[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Ćorinne Boisćlair Memorial Hospital, Central Geminus, Eiria
2:38 AM

Emily Jansone suppressed a yawn as she sat in front of her computer, the white hospital lights making her squint. After two consecutive night shifts in the ICU, the overwhelming weight of exhaustion had faded to a dull, familiar throb. Luckily, this particular night's shift had been pretty uneventful thus far, not that she was going to say it out loud. Over halfway done. I just have to hold on a little bit longer, and then I can go back to the day shift. Just a few more hours…

Karlis Jakobs, a fellow nurse and night shift veteran, looked over from his station. "Hanging in there, Em?" After seeing her nod, he smiled jokingly. "I know, the ICU night shift isn't exactly the best assignment for a floater nurse, but hey, it beats Med-Surg any day of the week. Especially on nights like tonight."

Emily chuckled, her eyebrows raised. "Are you sure about that? And besides, please don't say that too loudly, Karlis. You know what happens if you do, and if you end up cursing us into a stressful night, you're getting your foot run over with a stretcher." She glanced over the monitor at the various patient vitals, making sure that none of them were out of the ordinary. "Besides, I'm getting reassigned to help out with the Emergency Department tomorrow, and they'll ease me back into day shifts, so I don't have to look like a zombie when I get home everyday."

"Hey, whatever floats your boat. Also, it's your turn to do visual rounds again. I'm still waiting to hear back from the on-call neurologist on the patient in bed six. It sounded like he was planning what insult he would hurl at me after he looked at the patient chart." Karlis spun around to check the unit phone, frowning at the lack of messages.

Emily sighed and stood up, slowly walking towards the first patient room. Suddenly, several loud alarms started going off at her desk, causing Karlis to slide over to her console. "Toi kašiet! Code Blue, Room Eight. Patient's in asystole."

Emily wasted no time, running down the hall to room eight, a number of her colleagues on her heels. Damn it. Angels help us, and help the patient. The group burst into the room and quickly got the tables and chairs out of the way to remove any potential obstacles, before beginning chest compressions.

However, the patient lying in the bed was no ordinary ICU patient. His name was Nićolas Laurent, and he was better known as Nićolas II, King of Auria.

And he no longer had a pulse.

[Lauchenoiria]

Captain Eugênio Quesada of the LFS Averforth was irritated to be given yet another supply run. The war in Auria had been dragging on much longer than anyone had expected when Lauchenoiria had chosen to get involved. The news of the death of the King Nićolas of Auria had led to a somber mood throughout the coalition forces. Everyone saw it as a bad omen - even the Lauchenoirians, who were among the earliest to get rid of their own monarchies. So they were distracted as they began the latest supply run.

This was unfortunate, given that CSSC had chosen to turn the waters around Auria into a minefield last year. Just because the mines had so far failed to actually blow up any of the coalition ships did not mean that they had disappeared. Today, the luck of these little explosive devices of doom was about to change. As the LFS Averforth approached the Aurian coast, they hit one and the ship rocked as water sprayed up to easily twice its height and dropped back down onto the deck.

“Mine!” someone yelled, too late.

“I know it was a damn mine!” growled the Captain. “Damage report!”

“Sir, the engine has taken damage, the hull is breached in multiple locations and we’ve already taken on a fair chunk of water. We might have to abandon ship.”

“Do you really think those Xiomeran mercs are gonna just let us get in lifeboats and row away?” the Captain snorted. “Get me actual information; no more maybes!”

The crew began to rush around, trying to get a handle on just how bad the situation was. As it transpired, the amount of water taken on and hull damage would have been survivable… but the engine was damaged beyond their ability to repair on-board. 

At that moment, the ship was rocked once again by another explosion, this one from the air. The LFS Averforth had become a sitting duck for any enemy missiles.

“Missile!” said the same person who’d pointed out the mine far too late.

“Gonna guess the systems set up to warn us about those are also damaged?” the Captain snapped angrily.

“Sir, we’re definitely gonna sink if those missiles keep hitting us.”

“Oh really?” he said sarcastically. “Get everyone to the lifeboats!”

As the crew began to evacuate, Captain Quesada waited to see if any more missiles would be forthcoming. Unfortunately for him, and 23 other members of the crew, a second missile did indeed arrive - destroying the command deck, and killing the Captain and 23 other members of the crew. Fourteen more sustained injuries but managed to be carried to lifeboats by survivors.

The survivors managed to get far enough away from the Averforth before a third missile hit the ship, cracking it in two, and hastening the sinking rather rapidly. They managed to contact the rest of the Lauchenoirian fleet, but assistance would not be fast enough. Before the Lauchenoirians could arrive to rescue the survivors of the Averforth, CSSC got there before them.

Ensign Vanessa Asturias was the first to notice the CSSC ship approach. She quickly informed Lieutenant Dina Moreno, the highest-ranking officer on board her specific lifeboat. Both Moreno and Asturias, alongside everyone else, knew there was no way their own people would get there in time, and there was no way they could outrun the enemy ship approaching.

One man jumped into the water and began trying to swim away, after shouting that he’d ‘rather be eaten by a shark’ than captured by Xiomerans. It was a sentiment that many of them shared in theory, but in practice the survival instinct was too strong. So by the time the mercenaries arrived, pointing their guns and demanding surrender, most of the surviving crew had little choice in the matter.

As a sneering mercenary grabbed Asturias, she started to fear that the dead would indeed be the lucky ones.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Kōt-Verte, Southwestern Auria

Queen Katherina of Auria sat in the old oak chair at her desk, examining the hairline cracks in the paint of her bedroom walls. The cottage the royal family had been assigned outside Kōt-Vert (Ćôte-Verte) was a bit run-down and dark, with dust and cobwebs in the corners. Still, it was one of the few larger estates that had escaped the bombing during the battles throughout Southwestern Auria, so the royals decided to take what they could get. Katherina's mother, the former Queen (now Queen Dowager) Sophie, had quickly tried to make the abandoned manor feel more homely, but there was only so much that she could do with the resources that they had.

She sighed and stood, unceremoniously falling over on her bed. Ever since she had been proclaimed Queen, her sleep had become restless, her mind plagued with endless thoughts and concerns. Not even when she was in exile in Eiria was her sleep this disturbed. I just wish I could be back in Lumiere, in my own bed, with our country safe and sound. I just want to go back…

A knock on her door caused her to jolt up, and she glanced at her reflection in a small mirror on the wall, making sure that she looked presentable. "Entriet." She said softly, standing up off of the bed. Her mother, the now Queen Dowager Sophie, walked through the door, her stride as even and regal as her title. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun, and the muted black Halar appeared suitable for both everyday use and the most formal of events.

"Sorry to disturb your rest, Kat. Just wanted to work out your outfit for tomorrow's Refugee Return Event. We have a few options, but you really should wear the royal purple. It sends a strong message, plus it compliments your hair." She rustled through a small closet on one side of the room until she pulled out a formal Halar that caught her eye. "You get that from your father. He always looked good in purple. I prefer greens and reds, in all honesty."

Katherina examined the outfit that had been selected for her. It wasn't terrible, but was too gaudy for her tastes, with a large embroidered Royal Seal on the chest and back. Her face must have revealed her displeasure, and her mother raised her eyebrow. "Hey, you should've seen the things they made your father and I wear. There's nothing like four layers of ceremonial outfits to make you roast alive. You should go try it on, and maybe you'll find that you like it more."

Without a word, Katherina took the robe from her mother and headed for the bathroom. As she put the outfit on, everything about it just felt wrong. The fabric was stifling, and every seam scratched and poked her skin. The collar was just slightly too tight, and the belt sash felt like it was slowly suffocating her. Worst of all, as she stared at herself in the mirror, Katherina felt like her outfit was made of lead, slowly pulling her down under its weight. She grit her teeth, took a moment to compose herself, and then went back out to face her mother.

Sophie smiled and clasped her hands as she saw her daughter walk out. "Aw, you look lovely in that. Come here, l'll braid your hair and then give you some jewelry to try on."

Katherina obliged, sitting down in her desk chair. Her mother's hands, while attempting to be delicate, still managed to hit every snarl and snag in her long hair, only adding to her annoyance. "Your hair has always been so long and beautiful. Long wavy hair runs in my side of the family. Your father, however, was either blessed or cursed with mildly curly hair, and for some reason, his mother demanded that he straighten it for years. Only she and the Angels know why on earth she demanded that. I always thought he was more dashing with his natural curls, but who knows what your grandmother was thinking."

As Katherina closed her eyes, memories of her father braiding her hair rushed back to her, and she slammed her hand on the table, her eyes filling with tears. Sophie stopped braiding as her daughter stood and walked towards the window. "How can you talk about him so casually?! He's been dead for three weeks, and I haven't seen you even remotely emotional once! No tears, nothing. The most mourning I've seen you do is wear black outfits. How can you be this detached?!"

Sophie, who was taken aback by this outburst, slowly turned and walked towards the door. "Answer me, please! Mom, why can't you at least cry for him?"

"Because I have no tears left!" Sophie shouted as she stood in the doorway, bracing one hand on the wall. "I have been crying for years. Since the accident. Since the coup, the assassinations, our exile. Eventually, I just… knew. I knew he wouldn't come back to us. I had done enough crying for several people at that point, and I still had people to lead, allies to gain, refugees to care for. I couldn't make them wait while I cried even more. I had to lead Auria." She looked her daughter in the eye, pain and sorrow on her face. "And now, you must learn the same lesson. Grieve for your father for however long you wish, but do not keep our people waiting. They're in your hands now."

The door slammed shut as the Queen Dowager left, leaving Katherina to ponder her words.

—
Lumiere, Auria

Prime Minister Sara Berenstein sat at the bar in the Palace's salon, swirling around the glass of Spēce in her hand. The salon was dim and dusty, with most of the support staff having gone home, fled the city, or been drafted or otherwise indisposed. I never noticed just how many staff worked in the palace before. The empty palace reflected the general state of the once-bustling capital city, as even the Aurians who remained in the capital rarely left home anymore. The waves of unrest had been briefly abated with the distribution of rations, but the Prime Minister knew that this calmness wouldn't last. Those damn Eirians and their puppets. They're starving us out and then making it look like it's our fault.

She downed the last of her drink and sneered, muttering insults under her breath. "Tut dei casei konadei vēles poivana kašet arvec kutōsei." Her tone was fraught with hatred and spite, and she slammed her fist on the bar out of frustration. "Kašēsei dei ezlišei, they think they can control us and we'll just accept it. The rest of the world may have fallen for their ruse, but I will never." Repeating the same propaganda slogan that she had used in her speeches countless times did little to make her feel better. We could lose this damn war.

A staffer peaked his head through the salon door, causing Berenstein to adopt a more neutral expression. "Excuse me, Kurena. The front line report just came in. Garda Command sent it over to the Intelligence Office, and they provided their notes on it."

She walked over and took the manilla envelope from him. "I take it that you looked through this?" At the staffer's nod, she asked another question. "And how does it say that we're doing on the front lines?"

The staffer's silence spoke volumes, and she tossed the envelope on the bar. "Of course it does. Brilliant." She rubbed her temples, trying to put her thoughts together. "This isn't working. We need to completely rethink our strategy here."

A thought occured to her, and she pursed her lips, getting close to a smile. "Tell the commanders to fall back to the most defendable positions they can find. Starting right now, I need a team of staffers to inventory every single item left in the Palace, in the treasury, and in the art galleries, museums, and banks around Lumiere. Every single asset that we can get should be documented and reported to me. I know that many museum and gallery pieces were either taken or hidden after the initial march on Lumiere, but still, write everything down."

The staffer nodded, then hesitated. "May I ask why, Prime Minister?"

"Because we need to talk with our Xiomeran benefactors. It does none of us any good to keep throwing troops at the front lines, so I'm going to negotiate a deal with the Empress about helping us evacuate and regroup." Berenstein sat down and opened up the military reports, before glancing back up at her aide. "Go on, hurry. If you want a seat on the boat out of here, you better make sure we have enough to bargain with the Xiomerans."

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Joint Post with Xiomera)

Lumiere, Auria

"And are you sure that this is the final list? This morning there were three vastly different lists floating around, all claiming to be the full consolidated list. Please tell me that you've done your job this time." Prime Minister Sarah Berenstein stared up from her desk at the poor staffer who had brought her a thick folder. The staffer quickly nodded her head, causing her boss to give her a small smile. "Good. This better not change."

Another aide knocked on the door to the study as the first one was leaving. "Come in, come in." Sarah Berenstein glanced through the folder as the staffer made his way to her desk, carrying an open laptop. "You've established a safe link, I assume?"

Her aide nodded. "The Intelligence agent said that it's not perfect, but it's the best that we can get on our end. Plus, I'm sure the Xiomerans have more security protocols in place on their end. All you need to do is press that call button there." He delicately placed the laptop down on the desk before standing straight, waiting for instructions.

"That'll be all. Leave, please." As he turned to leave, Berenstein exhaled, trying to compose herself. This call could decide the fate of my country. No pressure, though. She donned a neutral expression before clicking the call button, the obnoxious dial tone mildly annoying her.

At the other end of the line, at the Palace of Flowers, the Imperial Attendant to the Empress received the call. After a brief conversation and verification of the security of the call, Berenstein was patched through. "Good morning, Prime Minister. It is always a pleasure to speak with you, although I must admit I was not expecting a call." Calhualyana placed her coffee cup on the table next to her; a small dish of pastries clinked slightly as she laid it down. "How can I help you?"

"Good morning, Madam Empress. Unfortunately, this is not a social call." Berenstein paused, choosing her words carefully. "I take it you have seen the recent report from the front lines? Unfortunately, it seems that CSSC has had to bear the brunt of the cost of the fighting, given the Garda's recent... Shortcomings. And I'm not one to make my allies do my job for me. So, I have a bit of a proposition."

Calhualyana raised an eyebrow. "The situation on the ground has become a bit muddled, yes. What do you propose?"

"Well, simply throwing troops at the front lines won't get us any further than it has, and with the blockade in effect, so I propose that we take a step back to regroup and reassess. If you'd be willing to host an exile government, we could use remaining loyal Garda troops as a network of agents across the country. We could, essentially, force Queen Katherina and her allies to rebuild the nation while we work to find ways to exploit the unrest from abroad. They pay the price for rebuilding the country, and we can reap the benefits when the time is right."

Calhualyana pondered a moment, balancing a pastry in one hand idly while holding the phone with the other. "In truth, things have not gone as well as we had hoped. A step back to provide time for a new plan does seem prudent. We would need to transport you out by air, as their annoying naval blockade is still in place. However, arrangements can certainly be made to host you here in Xiomera. The only thing we would need to account for is the loss of the resources we currently have access to in Auria."

Berenstein nodded. "Of course. As we speak, a group of my staff is working tirelessly to catalogue and transport every resource that we have access to from the west to Lumiere. I can assure you, we'll be bringing everything that we can with us, in one way or another. I have arranged for a..." The Prime Minister trailed off. "I'm not sure how much you know about Lei Rekēsei dei Jur, so I'll just say that I've arranged for a smuggler to transport any additional resources once the blockade is down. You will only see a light interruption in shipments, not a total cessation. In addition, I will be bringing with me certain items of monetary and sentimental value, to present to you as a token of your friendship. They'll be in far better hands with you than they will be with that child Queen Katherina."

The Empress smiled, putting down her pastry and beginning to take notes on her nearby tablet. "That is most generous of you. When are you seeking to depart Auria?"

Berenstein gave the screen a slight smile, pleased to have gotten a positive reaction from Calhualyana. "As soon as the arrangements can be made. I'll gather my most valuable officers and staff to take with me, and I'll organize the rest into a network." A glint of humor came to her eyes. "My apologies, I will have to brush up on my Xiomeran. But I am glad that you are receptive to this... reset, of sorts. Your generosity truly knows no ends." The Prime Minister made sure not to make her tone too sweet. She knows I'm no pushover, so any attempt to prostrate myself isn't going to look genuine. I just need to walk the line of flattery.

Calhualyana had not exactly fallen for the flattery. She was more than smart and experienced enough to get the gist from the ongoing wave of intelligence reports coming back from Auria. The CSSC gambit simply hadn't paid off. It was indeed time for a reset. Berenstein was offering the best option remaining for Xiomera to extricate itself from the current fighting in Auria, while remaining poised to make a play for the country again in the future. But she knew how to play the game, so she would go along with Berenstein's soft touch. "It is nothing, don't trouble yourself about it. Xiomera remains committed to you and your cause, and we will continue to do whatever we can to assist."

"I appreciate that. I will let you get back to your day. I need to go supervise the plans for the strategic fallback that will allow our agents to safely get into position. Thank you for your time and hospitality, Your Majesty."

"Of course. We look forward to seeing you in Xiomera." With the call ended after a few more pleasantries, the Empress immediately shifted to damage control mode. Her ploy to use mercenaries in Auria hadn’t worked as planned. But with a pretender government in exile to wield, Xiomera wasn't dead in Auria just yet.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Sequel to https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?...1#pid22691 and https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?...9#pid22719)

Lieutenant Natalija Petrova had never felt so hopeless, so alone, so close to death. And after over a year in a prison run by Xiomeran mercenaries, that was saying something.

The uncomfortable and rickety transport truck that she and a number of fellow prisoners were shoved into hit a large bump in the road, causing Petrova to grip the metal bench. I swear, the driver must be aiming for every pothole, as some last torture before we're executed.

She looked around grimly at her fellow passengers, each of them in various stages of dejection. She could tell immediately which soldiers were newer captures versus the battered veterans. Some of the newest still had a glimmer of hope in their eyes, like this truck was taking them to their freedom. Unfortunately, Petrova knew better, having overheard a number of their prison guards joking about their true fate. As if they’d let us go. They can't sustain us anymore, and we can't give them information. They're gonna bury us in the Aurian countryside, and we'll be just another statistic. "Missing in Action," they'll label us.

Even though she had began to come to terms with her imminent death, the thought of her family still brought her to tears. Karlis, Ivan, Mom, Dad… they'll never know what happened to me for sure. They'll be stuck waiting, if they haven't given up hope already. Why did it have to be my plane that was struck down?

That question bothered her on multiple levels, and she shook her head, wiping a tear away from her eye. No. My last moments will not be filled with self-centered wallowing. I always knew that this was a possibility. I knew that from my first day in the service. I just wish I could've had more time.

The transport truck lurched to a stop suddenly, causing Natalija to slam into the bench in front of her. She groaned and clutched her bruised arm, mentally cursing the driver and his compatriots. [i[Cowards and sadists, all of them. I can’t wait until they’re forced to relive what they’ve done to us over and over again.[/i]*(1)

A number of soldiers in faded Orange filed onto the bus, unshackling and dragging prisoners off one by one. A tall, lanky one stood at the edge of Natalija’s bench and glared down at her. “Tei staviet,” he ordered, his Aurian accent making the command sound muddled to Petrova’s ears. Still, she complied, slowly standing and following the soldier out the back of the transport. Her heart was in her stomach, knowing what was about to happen, and her handcuffed hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The smell of a storm hit her nostrils as she exited, and raindrops quickly turned her dirty blond hair brown. Great. Executed in the middle of a rainstorm. She glanced around, noting her surroundings. The trucks had seemingly stopped in the middle of a forest which had been either bombed out or wrecked by a storm. Every other tree was damaged or uprooted, and even the trees that survived had bullet scars.

Natalija was put at the front of a line with a number of fellow prisoners. An Aurian officer approached her, his boots barely audible over the rain. His gaze was intense, but Petrova looked pointedly at the broken road beneath her feet. “Noms?” He asked. She remained silent.

“Kuois es jues noms, emprizanēta? Kuois tei zaunis?” His angry questioning got louder, but the Eirian pilot remained silent. She glanced up at him, and with the little energy she could muster, she spit in his face.

The infuriated officer wiped his face and gripped Petrova’s bruised arm, causing bolts of pain to shoot through her body. She winced and keeled over, looking back up at the officer with sheer hatred in her eyes. Why does he want to know my name? I already told that to the interrogators. Still, she couldn’t stand the pain any longer, and she reluctantly spoke in a faded, gravely voice. “Petrova. Natalija Petrova.”

The officer let go and gave her a satisfied grin. “Cas nē nasva kurš, eh?”*(2) He looked towards one of his subordinates, who handed his commander a small object. He turned back to Petrova, and she got a good look at the object: a set of rudimentary dog tags.

The officer got closer to the Eirian, and she could smell the stank of cigarettes on him. He wrapped the dog tag chain around her next, gave her one last glare, then moved on to the next soldier in line. Natalija breathed a sigh of relief, glancing down at her new tags. Why would they label us if they’re just going to execute us? Why would they care about that?

Once each prisoner had been given their dog tags, the officer returned to Petrova with a number of soldiers accompanying him, causing her heart to sink once again. “Keniet, nag.” Move, now. She followed that order, marching to a slow mental cadence. She could see that up ahead, the desolate woods surrounding the woods faded to a clearing. Along the edge of the forest, there were several barricades with figures stood behind them.

The Garda officer stopped and looked towards Petrova, and, to her shock, took off her handcuffs. He then gave her a rough shove forward. “Keep going. Don’t stop if I stop, or I’ll shoot you for your disobedience.” She began to march again, her confusion only growing. Why would they put barricades around where they execute prisoners? And why did he uncuff me? Each step of the hundred meter march towards the mysterious barricades felt like an eternity. As she inched closer, she noticed that a few of the figures behind the barricades were walking to meet her.

Wait.

Those aren’t Garda or Xiomeran uniforms.

She started walking faster, almost breaking into a full sprint at the sight of a familiar uniform silhouette. She could hear more feet behind her, but in that moment, she didn’t care if it was her fellow soldiers or her captors. Even though she stumbled and almost fell, she still kept going, and almost flew into the arms of the nearest figure, who was dressed like an Eirian army soldier. The soldier propped her up, bringing her behind the barricade and slowly easing her onto the ground. “Are you okay?” She asked, her accent very noticeably Central Eirian.

Petrova could only nod as the soldier examined her makeshift dog tags. “Well, Natalija, you’re safe now. We’ll bring you to a field hospital that’s not far from here, then you’ll be brought back home. There is a ceasefire currently in effect right now, and part of the deal was the return of all prisoners. I know you’ve been through a lot, but you’re safe with us. Can you stand?”

Natalija nodded, and shakily stood up. She saw a number of her fellow prisoners getting similar help from soldiers in a variety of different uniforms, from various Eirian uniforms to Lauchenoirian, Huenyan, and even Milintican ones. The soldier who was helping her put her arm around Petrova’s soldier, and the now-free pilot noticed that her name plate said “Astier,” and she was wearing the insignia of a Corporal. The pair slowly made their way over to an Eirian medic, who took one look at her before immediately going to fetch supplies.

Corporal Astier gave her a small smile. “What’s your rank, Kuren* Petrova?”

Natalija cleared her throat. “First Lieutenant, Corps of Naval Aviators. I am… or was… stationed on the EIS Arion.”

Astier raised her eyebrows. “You outrank me then, Lieutenant! Navy pilot, eh? Impressive.” The army soldier leaned against one of the barricades as the medic returned with some water, a small ration pack, and some medical supplies for Natalija. As the medic worked on Petrova’s arm, Astier squatted down. “Thank you for your service, Lieutenant Petrova. You have gone through more than anyone should have to go through. We’ll take care of you while you rest, okay? I’ll let him finish up, and then you can eat and drink while we drive back to base. I don’t exactly think you want to sleep on the front lines.”

The reality of her situation caught up to her, and Petrova’s eyes filled with tears (joyful ones, this time). The Corporal’s face filled with concern, but Natalija shook her head. “No, no. It’s a good thing. I just can’t believe…”

I’m going home.

________

*(1) Unitists believe in a recursive punishment after death; Before your soul can pass on to the afterlife, you must relive all of the harm you've done to others, from their perspective.
*(2) "That wasn't too hard, eh?"
*(3) Polite honorific, akin to "Sir/Ma'am"

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Joint Post with Xiomera)

Situated in the picturesque Amalin Hills in northwestern Eiria, the Davant Hydroelectric dam was certainly a sight to see. Built where the Serai river comes down from it's mountain source into the valley below, it was a key structure in the Eirian electrical grid, supplying power to many in Monterre, Nordjura, and Jurmala Provinces. In addition, the top observation level boasted one of the most beautiful views of the heartland valley and western mountain ranges.

It was a shame, then, that someone wanted to blow it up.

Raimonds Priede was that someone. The Imperial Intelligence agent had been assigned to operations against Eiria for several years. His most notable operation had been the poisoning of two asylum seekers from the Xiomeran Olympic team. That operation had brought him many rewards, including a meeting with the Empress herself. If Priede succeeded in taking down the Davant dam, he could count on many more rewards from the always-generous Empress. Calhualyana had decided on this strike as retaliation for a hack of the Tlalacuetztla traffic control system. She had not been able to prove Eiria was behind it, but she suspected it. And that was enough.

Priede had chosen a spot near the base of the dam to make his infiltration. The security perimeter at that point was weak, and he believed he could slip in and plant a lovely set of explosives at the base of the dam without being detected.

---

Janis Akers slowly took another bite of his breakfast sandwich, admiring the beautiful sunrise over the valley as he sat on the riverbank. The recently-transferred engineer had been hard-pressed to find a tranquil place for his breakfast break, with most of the other staff crowding the top observation deck or side entrances. Still, in this part of the country, beautiful views weren't exactly hard to come by, and he was quite satisfied with the spot that he had found.

A pair of footsteps caught his attention, and he whipped around, exhaling only when a familiar figure came into view. "Cēra. Are you here to disturb my breakfast once again?"

The guard smiled, wiping some dirt off of her uniform. "Maybe. I saw that Adam and Krikōrjevs stole your normal spot, so I started looking. You have a knack for picking spots that are a massive pain in the ass to get to. I nearly broke my ankle getting over here."

He smiled. "Gotta get away from all of the workplace politics, you know? The gossip up there is so toxic." He picked up his container of potato dumplings and held it out to her. "Want a Pelmes? I found a new place up the road that sells them. They reheat really well."

As Cēra took a bite of a dumpling, Janis saw it. A shadowy figure behind a group of trees. The figure disappeared as quickly as he had noticed them. "Um, Cēra? Someone's over there, through that group of trees. I just saw them move."

Cēra quickly stood, hand on her radio. "A tourist? Why would a tourist be this far down? The observation deck entrance isn't even close to here." She brought her radio up to her face. "Yeah, perimeter team? I need some help out on the lower bank. I think someone hopped the northern fence."

Unaware that he had been spotted, Priede moved quickly and silently through the trees. He was nearing the base of the dam now. He finally reached it, and ducked around a structural pillar out of sight.

Priede quickly assembled his bomb, setting the timer to four minutes. That should give me enough time to get away, he thought. The agent placed the bomb well-hidden inside a maintenance hatch, closing the door before peeking around the edge of the pillar to see if anyone was around.

Unfortunately for Priede, Cēra had made it up a small hill and had full view of him closing the maintenance door. She sprinted down the slope, unhooking her taser gun as she ran. "Arjiet! Rekuliet dei kur nag!" ("Stop! Back away from there now!").

Priede cursed in Eirian and rather than run away, he ran towards Cēra in a zigzag pattern to throw off her aim. He lashed out with a solid kick aimed at her head.

The blow glanced off the side, causing her to fall sideways into the dirt with a grunt. As she fell, she reached out and grabbed hold of her assailant's foot, preventing him from getting further up the hill. With her left arm, she grasped her taser and jammed it into Priede's calf, activating it.

Priede grimaced in pain, just barely managing to avoid shouting out as he fell to the ground. He struggled with being unable to move, several seconds ticking away.

Cēra stumbled while trying to stand upwards, holding the side of her head with one hand. Janis hustled down the hill towards her, grabbing the handcuffs from her belt. Together, they restrained the twitching Priede, putting the cuffs on him while he was facing the ground before flipping him.

Cēra nodded at the maintenance panel, trying to catch her breath. "He did something in there. You should check it out."

Janis nodded back and walked over to the hatch by the support beam, prying it open. Holy shit. Angels help us now! He stumbled away from the hatch, slurring his words. His face was ice white. "Metdi... It's a bomb. He put a fucking bomb in... It's ticking down... What the... Shit!"

Cēra blanched and instinctively took a step back. "Call the police and get up the hill." She turned to the restrained Priede, kneeling on one leg and grabbing him by the collar, a murderous look in her eye. "You're going to tell me how to disable that thing, or I'm keeping you here until it goes off. If you want to live, start talking."

Priede shrugged. "I'm not afraid to die. Are you? You'll have to stay here to hold me here, after all." He grinned at that, in a perverse glee.

Cēra pushed him back to the ground in disgust. Janis was pacing back and forth, on the phone. Suddenly, he raced up the hill, disappeared for ten seconds, then reappeared with his box of tools. "Okay. There's a timer, a few different sizes and types of wires, and three plastic-wrapped packages. The timer is just under two minutes. Each package has a wire connected to it via a metal connector at one end. It looks to be stuck in there around a white substance." His voice was shaky, and his natural Monterre accent was very prevalent as he spoke.

The bomb expert spoke in a steady, deep voice. "Alright. Sounds like a standard plastic explosive with a timed detonator. If it doesn't look like a powder, try touching one of the packages. Is the substance malleable?"

Janis sighed, closed his eyes, and pressed down on one of the packages. To his surprise, the bomb did not show up, and he could see an indentation that his finger had made. "Yes, it is. It's not a powder, but I can mold it."

"Okay. If you can't cut the wires, I'll need you to slowly pull the metal parts out of the substance. Don't worry, plastic explosives are incredibly stable to outside forces. Someone could shoot it and it wouldn't go off."

Janis laughed nervously. "Alright. I can do that." He slowly tugged on the first one, wincing as it inched out of the putty-like substance. "One down." He got to work on the second one, flinching once as he thought that he had pulled too hard. "Second one is down."

He glanced up at the timer and saw that there was only thirty seconds left. "Shit, okay. Working on the last one." Every millimeter of the blasting cap felt like it was glued in, and every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, Janis pulled the last metal connector free, removing the timer from the three plastic packages. "It's off. Holy shit, it's off. What do I do now?"

"Nice job. Now, take the timer with you and get as far away from the package as you can, okay? A bomb squad and the police have been dispatched to your location. Thank you for your help, sir. We'll take it from here."

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Southern Auria
October 26th, 2023, 12:17 AM

"How can an entire army disappear?!"

Captain Lira Marš looked around incredulously at the abandoned barricades and battlements, trying to find any trace of the Aurian and Xiomeran troops that built them. Her troops were gingerly tearing all of the structures apart, careful to avoid any potential booby traps or mines (despite the fact that Eirian mine robots had gone through the structure without finding any). All of the soldiers shared the same expression of confusion that Marš had as they pushed over sandbags and wooden barricades.

“There were trucks here a couple hours ago. Recon thought that they were bringing in reinforcements before the fighting began again. Apparently not.” Gaks Dukurs, one of Marš’ Lieutenants, spoke as he scanned the surrounding tree line. “Drone scans on either side of the road show no enemy combatants for at least four hundred meters, likely more. They just… left the front line abandoned.”

The Captain pursed her lips. “Shit.” She turned to a nearby Private. “Tell the signal officer to radio the Intelligence Battalion. We need to know where the hell those combatants went.” She raised her voice, addressing the members of her company that had gone further forward in the maze sandbags. “The rest of you, don’t exit the other side of the barricaded area. I don’t trust this disappearing act one bit. They could double back and start picking us off.”

She carefully made her way to the final stretch of obstacles, crouching and taking out her binoculars. The road ahead was relatively straight for almost a kilometer before it climbed a hull and disappeared, so Marš had a pretty clear view. And yet, the road was empty, save for the occasional hole or downed tree branch. They’re not on the road, and they’re not in the woods. They could be waiting up over that hill, but that’s still pretty shallow. Why would they abandon their fortifications for that?

Where are they?!

—

Downtown Lumiere

The man who called himself “Daniel Benar” stood on the balcony of his new apartment, admiring the few stars that shone over Lumiere. You know, for a government-issued apartment, this is actually quite nice. I guess there is a bright side to thousands of people fleeing the country.

He took one last mental picture of the sky before heading back inside, closing the door behind him. His living room wasn’t the most spacious, but still, it beat the military common areas that he had spent months in before moving here. He picked up a picture frame from the end table, admiring the faces of the family that had fled Lumiere soon after the coup. Weak traitors. They couldn’t stomach the growing pains of our nation. What cowards.

He took the photo out, and with a sick grin, tore it up into tiny shreds. After placing the scraps in the trash can, he walked through the bedroom, making a beeline for the closet. A number of dull orange uniforms hung there, slightly worse for wear. With a sigh, he took each one, gave them a regretful examination, and tossed them into a trash bag. What a waste. You’d think they’d be able to reuse these, instead of me having to burn them.

Once the final uniform was trashed, the man took a small box from his bedside drawer. Inside, his medals, insignias, and name plate sat, the last remaining evidence of his service in the Garda Nacōnals. He gingerly placed it in the trash bag before sealing it and placing it by the door.

With that last act, every trace of former Captain Henrē Duval was gone. Records had already been expunged, and any photo from his service had been scattered and burned. All that remained was the man who called himself "Daniel Benar," who lived in an abandoned apartment in Lumiere. With his forged records, no one would think twice about questioning his supposed identity.

And for the Coalition, that would prove to be a major oversight.

[Lauchenoiria]

Prime Minister Josephine Alvarez was furious. The audacity of the Xiomerans was truly beyond the pale. Sure, CSSC were mercenaries supposedly independent of the government, but nobody in Lauchenoiria believed that for a second. She doubted that mercenaries would have had any motivation to torture a Lauchenoirian citizen into talking nonsense about a Canal Zone plot in the first place. Calhualyana, on the other hand, most certainly did.

She was dead. Supposedly died of unfortunate “natural causes” while in custody in Auria. They’d given back the body, which Alvarez had immediately ordered an autopsy on. Indeed, she had ordered several different autopsies. Whatever the true cause of death was, it was bound to be well-hidden if they’d handed back the body. She needed several people searching. It was too convenient to be natural.

The other former prisoners of war had reported severe mistreatment. They had been subjected to sleep deprivation, beaten, and much worse. The autopsy so far had found clear evidence of mistreatment prior to death, undoubtedly how they’d forced her to make those absurd Canal Zone statements. Alvarez was incensed. This was not just a violation of all international norms regarding the treatment of prisoners of war. It was cruelty for cruelty’s sake; and probably a message.

Alvarez hated Calhualyana. And she kind of hated herself, for her reaction during the initial coup in Xiomera. She had been blinded by her hatred of Yauhmi, and it had led her to make poor decisions, the consequences of which were still unfolding. The Prime Minister was scared. Huenya was under attack. Eiria was under attack. It was only a matter of time before Calhualyana turned her attentions to Lauchenoiria, and Alvarez did not know what would happen.

Xiomera had already proved that they could snatch Lauchenoirians off the streets of Lauchenoiria, and nobody would do anything about it. The few condemnations of the kidnapping of Irene Ramos and Clay Moss had focused on the forced tattooing, rather than saying anything about the actual kidnapping. The world still seemed determined to punish Lauchenoiria for their civil war. As if they’d deliberately started the plague of them that seemed to be spreading across the world.

Something would happen, Alvarez was sure of it. Unbelievable Canal Zone rumours were hardly going to be the end of it. Nor would the systematic torture of every single Lauchenoirian prisoner of war in Auria. Calhualyana was clearly just warming up. The thought made Alvarez shiver. And the whole Aurian operation, for which her actions had angered Calhualyana in the first place, had been an absolute disaster.

It had shattered her coalition in government, leaving them hanging on by a thread. Only the determination of every party for Lauchenoiria to be seen as stable had staved off a vote of no confidence. It had cost almost four times the initial budget estimate. And they were still there, bogged down in a foreign war that was splitting into more and more factions with every passing minute. No, this not what she had planned.

Lauchenoiria had to get out of Auria, and soon. If she didn’t do it, then whatever happened after the election in April would undoubtedly force it. Their goal had been to show those behind the coup that it was an unacceptable way to try and seize power and change the government. Well, prolonged civil war had certainly done so; at least she hoped. One of the main plotters was dead, and three others were now the leaders of three different factions, at odds with each other. They had shattered apart. Surely none of them, and nobody watching, would find a coup an attractive proposition?

By that standard, mission accomplished. But it didn’t feel that way. This was the worst possible option for discouraging coups. The better option would have been to have managed to seize Lumiere and arrest Andrew, Berenstein, Michelin, Gerand and Lautrec while it was still 2021, put them on trial and swiftly resolve the situation. Instead, they got a multi-faction multi-year civil war – exactly what Lauchenoiria had been hoping to avoid.

“We have to get out of Auria,” Alvarez said aloud to nobody. “And soon.”

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Lumiere, Auria
November 5th, 2023, 9:45 AM

The day had finally come.

The Aurian Royal Palace was draped in purple banners, the royal crest emblazoned on each one. Crowd barriers divided the square into a secure area and a pen full of excited Aurians who were desperate to catch a glimpse of their new Queen. On either side of the palace steps, there were two stands of seats filled with Aurian officials, diplomats, and even foreign politicians, including Lauchenoirian President Emilia Obando and Eirian Minister of Diplomacy Alice Lancaster. A platform full of TV cameras and reporters was placed between the crowd and the steps, ready to broadcast the ceremony to thousands both in Auria and abroad. It seemed like the stage was set for a flawless coronation.

—

Queen Katherina stood in front of a large mirror, the hair and makeup stylists bustling around her. The makeup lighting was obscenely bright, and the queen had to fight all of her natural impulses not to blink or close her eyes as the stylists did her eye makeup. Is anyone even going to see my eyes from that far away? Would it really matter if I went without eyeliner?

Despite her grumbling about most of the makeup, she did have to give the stylists credit on one thing: Her prōtint tattoos. Her arms were lined with ornate images of flowers, jewels, swords, and other symbols, and the backs of her hands held the royal crest. These designs matched her outfit, which was a cut-sleeve (purple, of course) halarei with a long, embroidered train. The designers had certainly pulled out all the stops with the outfit, ensuring that it was truly fit for a queen.

As the stylists applied their final touches, Katherina heard a knock at the door. "Oh, mons kōr. You look so beautiful."

Sophie Laurent gingerly stepped over her daughter's train, standing next to her in the mirror. Her eyes were full of pride. "I am so happy that I am here to see this. You really look like a queen. Your father would've been so proud." She reached up and kissed her daughter's head, careful not to smear any makeup. "Your siblings are ready, although Tōmas grumbled a little bit about the makeup. He's always hated taking it off afterwards, though, so I wouldn't worry to much. He's still happy for you."

Sophie turned back towards the door. Katherina glanced downwards, before speaking up. "Mate?" *(Pronounced "Mah-teh," means "Mom")

The queen dowager stopped under the door frame. "Yes?"

"Tei nejem."

Sophie smiled. "I love you too. Now, come. A lot of people are waiting for you, my dear."

—

The man who called himself Daniel Benar glanced from his apartment window towards the ceremony in Theōdōsia Square, occasionally glancing towards the television to see how far the coronation had progressed. The priest performing the coronation was still reading, giving some sermon on "perseverance through hardship." The man gave a harsh laugh at that. If they only knew what's coming.

As the priest finished up his segment, he gestured towards a priestess, who brought out the Aurian High Crown from a protective case. "Bernar" took that as his cue, and he grabbed his sniper rifle from the couch, peering out the window at the tiny figures on the palace steps. I don't get another chance at this. I have to make this count.

With one eye closed, he stared through the gun's scope, trying not to put too much of his rifle's barrel out of the open window. As the priestess placed the state crown on Katherina's head, the man took a few deep, calming breaths, before exhaling fully, steadying the crosshairs on his target. Three, two, one..

BANG

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

-Karalēn, Karalēn,
Kuois vēs pasasva?-


Queen Katherina sat in her room, staring at the faded purple wall in silence. The Queen's dinner plate sat on her desk, completely untouched. Outside the window of bulletproof glass, Lumiere was quiet, almost as quiet as before the liberation. The city was recovering from a state of martial law, not that it would have mattered much. The country was in mourning, trying to get over the loss of one of the most resilient monarchs in Aurian history.

Katherina glanced through the windowpanes, noting the black banners draped from many of the windows, waving lightly in the wind. Every Aurian flag in sight had been lowered to half staff. And if the wind stayed silent for a moment, the Queen could've sworn that she heard the singing of an Aurian folk song. It was, by all accounts, a touching display.

But what use is a touching display if we still ended up losing something we held dear? The young monarch balled her fists, looking around to find something safe to punch or throw. That bastard knew he was going to die afterwards. He was disposable. Berenstein and that Xiomeran bitch traded his life for my mother's, because they want us to be weak. They think that they can cripple us permanently, so we aren't a major threat. Cowards, all of them!

She snatched the knife up from beside the plate of cold food and, in one fluid motion, planted it into the wall. Quickly grimacing at her rash action, she tried to pull it back out, only to find that it was solidly wedged in there. She let go of the handle with a sigh, slowly making a lap around the room. We might not be as strong as them, but we can still fight. We can still make their lives miserable. Katherina grabbed a black Halarei coat from her closet, putting it on and tying it tight. Let's give those two what's been coming to them.

She walked towards the door without a word, her wrath plain to see on her face.


-Lei Kronis es sere un plurē,
Nag kā mōs parterva.-


Former King Andrew Laurent-Ćordonnier stood in his makeshift war room in the basement of a restaurant in Kāp dei Rekēsei, pondering his next move. The Coalition’s forces had made their way up the northeastern peninsula, cutting off any method of escape that the disgraced noble might have had. His forces were dwindling, his supply lines were now non-existent, and the locals were starting to become even more discontent with his occupation of their city. The situation for Andrew was at its most dire.

The few high-ranking officers still with him stood around their battle map, watching the pieces that represented enemy divisions stood at the edges of the city. They hadn't made a proper push yet, but Andrew knew that when they did, it wouldn't be pretty. They're just waiting for reinforcements. Our days are numbered. He glanced at the officers. “Go oversee the fortification efforts. It’s not worth it just to stand here.”

The military leaders departed, leaving Andrew to his thoughts. There's no way we can withstand the combined forces of several nations. We’re even blocked from the ocean by an armada of Eirian ships. Loathe as I am to admit it, this is our last stand.


-Ain, mons Karalēn,
Rusiet ut mōs protegiet-


General Jean-Klaud Michelin sat in the back of an old transport truck, hidden behind a large pile of boxes. Every bump in the old, decayed road felt like a crater, and the General already had multiple bruises from particularly nasty potholes. Still, the truck had managed to sneak past Coalition roadblocks without a hitch, so all of the contusions were worth it in exchange for freedom.

He had left his northwest stronghold just before it fell, taking old back roads through the hills with a few decrepit transport trucks. Now, he knew that he couldn't go undetected for long on his own, and he didn't have enough troops with him to start a new occupation. However, that doesn't mean that he was without options. Before his evacuation, he happened to make a deal that would put all of his imported weapons to good use and that would guarantee him freedom (at least, temporarily).

The truck slowed down as it made a left turn, before stopping abruptly as the driver put it in park. Michelin got up on his feet, wincing slightly as he hit his leg on a crate of ammunition. He sidestepped piles of boxes as the back of the truck was opened, revealing a group of individuals dressed in all black. The man in front tossed him a makeshift rank badge, which Michelin quickly applied to his uniform.

“Good evening. What's your name, Major?” The general asked as he climbed down.

“Ričard, sir. Ričard Šenard.”

“Well, Ričard, call your soldiers over here and get these unloaded. These trucks are way too high-profile, and we don't want a battalion of Coalition soldiers and Aurian police at our door.”

“Yes sir.” Šenard extended his hand. “Welcome to the Commune, General.”


-Sakriat ser Krōnis, Karalēn
Nē toi voilam kaset…-

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Lumiere, Auria

“He's here, Your Majesty.”

The voice of her chief of staff Celēn Duprē caused Queen Katherina of Auria to look up from the reports scattered on her desk. She put an ink pen back in its holder and stood, her face filled with an unspeakable emotion.

“They captured him alive?”

“Yes, my Queen. During the siege, most of his remaining forces defected once they ran out of resources or saw the true size of our forces. He was found in a shop basement and was shot and injured before he could reach for his firearm.” Duprē glanced downwards. “Are you sure that you want to see him, face to face?”

“I'm positive.”

—

Andrew Laurent-Ćordonnier dragged his feet as the large group of soldiers “guided” (dragged) him through a plain hallway. He could feel the wound in his leg throbbing and the handcuffs digging into his wrists with every step that he took. Where in the world are we? This doesn't look like a prison. The exterior was far too old, and they brought me in through what looked like a service entrance. Where are we?

The soldier at the head of the pack opened a side door, forcing the prisoner in before he could read the sign by the door. In the room, there was very little furniture, only a chair and some harsh fluorescent lights. So it's a torture chamber. At least they'll let me sit down. “You sure this is the right room, soldier? Normally, prisoners at least get some sort of table or desk in their cell. Is that too much to ask?”

Without a word, two soldiers forced him down to his knees. A wave of red-hot pain ran through his thigh, causing him to groan. “Was that really necessary, you bastards? You'd think that spineless royalists like you would at least have a little respect for-” He trailed off as the door opened, revealing an unmistakable young woman. “Well.” That's where we are. We're in the service level of the Palace.

“Andrew.” The Queen stared her cousin down, a barely contained fury in her eyes. “You've fallen far.”

“And you've risen much farther up than you're ready for. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. If you see Berenstein, you should thank her.”

Katherina gritted her teeth. “You piece of shit. I can't wait to see what the Angels have in store for you.” She slowly paced back and forth, never once looking away from the prisoner. “Although, we might give them a run for their money.”

Laurent-Ćordonnier let out a bitter, breathless laugh. “You can't do anything. You pathetic liberals don't have the stomach for any punishment that would-”

With a nod from the Queen, two of the soldiers pushed Andrew on his face as he was speaking and bent his arms up as high as possible. The former royal could feel his tendons and muscles straining, until he felt his left shoulder shift out of its socket. He cried out in pain, vainly trying to pull his arms out of the grasp of his captors. After what felt like an eternity, the soldiers let go, and the former Aurian autocrat went limp on the ground.

“You don't know the first thing about me. Right now, I am in the position to do whatever I want to you, and the only protests that I would hear would be from people who would want to kill you themselves.” The Queen slowly walked around Andrew's limp body before, in one fluid motion, using the heel of her boot to stomp down hard on his injured leg, causing a new series of groans and cries. “Welcome to the new Auria, cousin. You have no one to blame but yourself.” She looked up to the soldiers, who had placed themselves in between her and the prisoner. “Get him to a medic for his shoulder, and then bring him back. We're not holding him in a prison. He's staying here.” She straightened her coat as she walked towards the door.

“It's about time that the ancient dungeons in the basement saw some use again.”

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Northern Auria, 7 Kilometers west of Juraceda
6:32 AM

The cool and tranquil Aurian morning was almost picturesque, with a beautiful orange sunrise peeking through the rows of apple trees. Local finches sang their songs without care, only occasionally disturbed by activity on the ground. The derelict orchard seemed peaceful, a free haven away from the urban bustle of nearby Juraceda.

Who knew that such an idyllic place could be the birthplace of a revolution?

Inside the estate’s dark manor house, Alain Bonnet sat at the head of a grand mahogany dining table as his fellow communist revolutionaries hurried around him, occasionally handing him sheets of paper or photos. In a matter of weeks, their formerly small movement had exploded into a full-blown militia as thousands of discontented Aurians with nothing left to lose volunteered to join the cause. The United Aurian Commune was no longer a fringe activist group practicing civil disobedience, but a force to be reckoned with.

Bonnet glanced over to the woman on his right, who was listening to an old signal radio intently. “Any updates from the west, Deana?”

The lieutenant shook her head. “Not very much. The West Division isn’t very chatty. I think the commanders over there are paranoid of being heard, especially as Coalition troops search for gang members and remaining regime officials. Last I heard was about twenty minutes ago, when the convoy of arms reached the town of Cēnos, which…” She took a look at a nearby map of the country, “...Is about forty-five minutes west of Juraceda. Taking into account all of the breaks and backroads that they’d have to take, I’d estimate that they’ll be here in around two hours.”

Bonnet nodded. “That sounds about right.” He took a look through a sheet of notes that detailed the reported cargo of the arms convoy. “These trucks should more than supply us, even with the newest wave of recruits from up north. We will be set up perfectly to occupy Juraceda and a lot of the nearby villages, should we need to.”

A teenager in all-black walked into the dining room, looking nervously between Bonnet and a few other UAC leaders. “Um, sir, the camera is prepared for you in the east bedroom on the second floor. My sergeant said to come and bring you up there…”

Bonnet smiled, stood up, and buttoned his black suit. “Of course. No worries, Private. I’m no snotty royal or grizzled drill officer. You can always ask me to do something, especially if it helps our cause.” The communist leader gave a shallow bow to the rest of his staff seated at the table. “Excuse me, everyone. I need to go record our big debut.”

—

Queen Katherina walked briskly down the hallway towards her secure intelligence room, her chief of staff and political advisor in tow. A group of royal guards formed lines in front of the group, a remnant of the heightened security measures from the weeks after the assassination of Queen Sophie.

The Royal Briefing Room was located deep within the heart of the palace, down in the basement. It was, by far, one of the most secure rooms in Lumiere. An army officer saluted and clicked a button on his desk as the monarch and her aides walked by, causing the locked door in front of them to swing open. Inside, two other officers were standing on either side of a table, a projector displaying the face of Alain Bonnet on the wall.

Katherina wasted no time, sitting at the head of the table. “Show me.”

Alain Bonnet, dressed in a surprisingly formal suit and tie, sat in a white-walled room, appearing well-kempt and respectable. “Good morning, my fellow Aurians. If you don’t already know me, my name is Alain Bonnet, and I represent… you. All of your frustration and sorrow, dedicated to a higher purpose: freeing you from our oppressors.”

“Over the past few years, we have all faced immense sorrow, pain, and fear at the hands of corrupt politicians and oppressive monarchs who have strangled our country and its citizens. We have been abused, neglected, and chained to an unchanging system so the rich and powerful can rob us blind and barely leave scraps for us. We have been taken advantage of by both the elites here at home and foreign powers who wish to use us as puppets and meat shields.”

“So we are no longer just asking for change. We will no longer blindly serve the powerful while they satisfy their own ambition. We will no longer be treated as something to be controlled, to be used and discarded, or to be held captive in our own nation. It’s time for us to take our own lives into our own hands and act. Queen Katherina and Prime Minister Arquette have delayed elections in order to suppress our voices. Let us show them just how loud we can be.”

“No matter if they hold elections or not, they cannot hold us back. All across the country, citizens are donning our black and red colors and taking to the streets, demanding change. I have personally spoken to a number of regional administrators who are just as sick of monarchist oppression as we are and who are ready to declare themselves loyal to our cause. We will not wait for them to tell us when we can act. The time for action is now.”

Bonnet stared at the camera lens dead-on. “If you are tired of them telling you what to do, stand up. If you are tired of them telling you what to think, speak up. If you are ready for a new era of Aurian governance, one based on trust and kindness rather than power and money, join us. The Commune will always welcome our siblings with open arms. Together, we can rebuild this nation anew, without ancient institutions and selfish leaders dictating what we can do. Together, we will heal our broken nation!”

The video went black, leaving the assembled officials to look at the Queen, who was barely disguising a sneer. “Get me Arquette, immediately. It’s time for us to designate the UAC as the terrorist organization that it really is. I will also need to speak with the Acting Minister of Justice and Acting Chief of the Gendarme.”

Celēn Duprē, her chief of staff, looked at her with concern. “But, your majesty, that will no doubt cause the Commune to escalate, maybe even to violence. What wi-”

“Then we’ll have to make sure that the Coalition forces stay around to take care of them!” The Queen’s tone was terse and hostile. “Get the Prime Minister on the phone, now. We don’t have time for idle chatter.”

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Juraceda, Auria
January 10th, 2024, 5:42 PM

In the early evening light, Juraceda’s Home Plaza was bustling with commuters, hawkers, and locals running errands in the nearby businesses, almost giving the impression that the quieter city was a thriving metropolis. Groups of students gathered on the plentiful benches around the central fountain, taking in the cool mist on the warm day. Except for a couple of boarded-up windows and some scraggly trees, it looked like the Civil War had barely touched the town. Nature’s balance had finally been restored to the peaceful northern port city.

The idyllic scene of coastal life was interrupted by the screeching brakes of trucks stopping by the end of the plaza that overlooked the Nereus Sea. Large groups of people clad in black and red jackets assembled quickly in the square, earning many suspicious stares from the locals. Murmurs wove through the crowds as the band of people marched forward, and those murmurs turned into full blown shouts when a familiar man emerged at the head of the pack. After all, Alain Bonnet’s face had been plastered all over televisions and phones for weeks as the government cracked down on members of the United Aurian Commune.

Bonnet climbed onto the granite ledge at the edge of the fountain, his compatriots gathering behind him. He gazed into the crowds of townspeople. “My friends, do not be afraid. We are not here to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. We are merely here to take a stand.” His voice echoed off of the storefronts. “They call us terrorists, they call us traitors. But what have we done to deserve those labels? We are just the messengers of the people, a voice of reason cutting through the fear and lies.”

“And that’s why the powerful ones in Lumiere don’t like us so much. We are the embodiment of everything that they ignore, all of their neglect and waste. They are so focused on their own decadence that they forget about our needs. Their rich tastes have blinded them to our struggles, the struggles of the true faces of Auria. How long have you gone with little food? With rationed medicine? Have you seen the outfits that the new Queen and her siblings wearing? It is plain to see that our nation’s precious resources are going directly to finance the royal family’s life of luxury.”

“So, we must stand up for ourselves. Now, if you don’t want to be a part of our new and righteous commune, I understand. You may leave the city whenever you like. No one will stop you. But if you actually care about your community, your lifestyle, and your future, join our ranks. Help us set up a truly equal state here in Juraceda, and you will see the benefits pour in. No more capital elitists. No more nobles in fancy clothes coming here and claiming to speak for us. We are one voice that will not bow down to the instructions of others. We will not start fights, but we will not remain powerless. There is no Queen here! There is no monarchy here!”

For one tense moment, the crowds of townspeople were deathly quiet. And then, group upon group began to cheer and applaud, while others remained in stunned silence. Then, a group of Bonnet’s uniformed supporters began a chant that spread like wildfire throughout the crowd: “Nē Krōnis Ič!.”

No crown here.

[Lauchenoiria]

The idea of two high-ranking government officials of two different countries who were at polar opposite ends of the spectrum of geopolitical factions sharing the same house, never mind the same bed, was highly implausible. And yet, this was somehow the situation in the Alvarez household; in spite of the myriad security concerns stated by the intelligence services of both countries.

In the morning, Prime Minister Josephine Alvarez would head off to work at the Federal Parliament while Councillor Jennifer Hale would get the four-year-old Amelia ready and drop her off at the private nursery they paid for her to attend. She would then continue on to the Kerlian Embassy, where she would log onto a video call in a private office and join Council meetings via that link.

This was the result of numerous compromises by both individuals, and both countries, since Hale’s return to Lauchenoiria in July. The Lauchenoirian security services had flat-out refused to allow a Kerlian Councillor to live in the Prime Minister’s official residence; and thus, Alvarez had firmly moved back to her private residence, much to their consternation. This was not, however, illegal and thus they could do nothing to counter the move. The Council of Kerlile had refused to allow Hale to join video meetings from a property crawling with Lauchenoirian security, hence they gave her an office in their embassy.

On the morning of January 11, 2024, by the time Hale had woken up, Alvarez was already gone, an orange token sitting on her pillow. This was their private system for alerting the other as to the reason for their night-time departure. They had developed it after they realised that one of the security personnel had taken to destroying notes; and none of them would admit which one. Orange meant, roughly, “emergency security meeting; but don’t worry because nobody has declared war or launched any missiles (yet)”. Red, naturally, removed the disclaimer.

Jennifer rolled over to pick up her stack of phones, flicking through them until she pulled out her official Kerlian Council one, checking for updates. Riots in Zongongia, protests in Taragai, whatever the hell was happening in Doatia… ah, Auria. Communists in Auria declaring independence. Yes, the likelihood of that being the source of the emergency was high, given current domestic Lauchenoirian politics.

Well, it was Sunday, and Kerlile was not having an emergency, which meant that Jennifer did not need to go to work. She did have several messages from her fellow Councillors asking her for Alvarez’s take on numerous subjects, to which she sent unintelligible strings of random emojis, as usual. This was her strategy for responding to such requests; send nonsense. Then she went to Amelia’s room to wake her for the day.

*

Alvarez, meanwhile, was very much working. Around half of the Lauchenoirian cabinet had assembled, minus a few of the clearly domestic-focused secretaries, who had declined to go into the office at 4am on a Sunday to discuss something that did not affect their departments. They had just finished listening to an overview of the situation from various intelligence and military chiefs, adding their views on how Lauchenoiria should proceed. The first to speak after the briefing was the defence secretary, Rodrigo Montaña.

“It is clear that something has to be done, before this escalates into a renewed civil war with different factions. The longer Juraceda is in the hands of these communists, the longer they will have to entrench their position and dupe Aurians into believing in their legitimacy. We ought to join the Aurian military in striking fast and hard; deal with the problem like an isolated terrorist incident.”

“They have a point, though,” Deputy Prime Minister Lucie Scott countered. “The humanitarian situation in Auria is dire and the new monarch is parading around in designer clothing? We have to understand how Aurians feel. And a military assault on the city will endanger civilians.”

“It is precisely because they have a point that it is vital we act quickly,” Alvarez sighed, clearly believing but disliking her own words. “Their rhetoric rings true; naturally, though, if they were given the chance to govern things would quickly go downhill as it always does. Revolutionaries make bad governors. But people don’t think of that at first. If the United Aurian Commune is given time, they will spread their propaganda and things will become worse in the long term. I am yet to be convinced a military assault is the way forward, however.”

“I am. And I see your objection, Lucie, to the humanitarian angle, but there are things we can do to lessen that impact. I’ve no objection to opening a humanitarian corridor to evacuate civilians, for example,” Montaña replied. “And we can certainly discuss increasing humanitarian aid to Auria at the same time. Additionally, I am not suggesting we go in guns blazing. My proposal is that we assist the Aurians in attempting to apprehend and arrest the militants. Only if they fire first would we use lethal force.”

“I’m with Rodrigo for the most part,” Foreign Secretary Juan Pablo Estevez piped up. “The United Aurian Commune is a prohibited violent militia group in Auria; their members ought to be arrested and brought to justice using the Aurian legal system. I do feel, however, that it is the Aurian authorities place to do so. However, given the high chance of violence, I believe our forces should head to the outskirts of the city as backup, should violence break out. If the Aurian authorities can peacefully arrest the perpetrators, that’s good. If they try shooting at the Aurians, though, we can step up to help. Make sure it goes our way.”

“Chances are it will go badly, if Auria tries to arrest them,” Alvarez pointed out. “Especially since they have supposedly declared independence. They no longer recognise the legitimacy of the Aurian government. It is certain the communists will resist.”

Juanita Ortiz, Secretary for Business and Economic Development, nodded. “I agree, but I do not see another option for Katherina. She cannot negotiate with terrorists; she should not use military force unless necessary. An attempt at arrests, no matter how futile, is politically necessary. And that will lead undoubtedly to the need for military force. I am usually reluctant to counsel for the use of force, but Auria’s woes will only increase if communists are allowed to exacerbate things with their usual restrictions.”

“It seems like there is some sort of consensus towards us directing our troops already in Auria towards Juraceda,” Montaña said. “Just not what to do once they get there. The Aurian military is already moving to surround the city; I propose we send our troops to back them up and then let them take the initiative. It’s their country, after all.”

“It is a clearly aggressive posture,” Nidia Belmonte, Environment Secretary, shook her head. “We want the war to be over, not continued.”

“Sadly, Nidia, I think that they may be right,” Lucie Scott, a fellow Green, replied. “Ignoring such groups has rarely worked out well in the recent past. It may be better to do something quickly. But we need to speak with the Aurians, see what they want us to do.”

“Right, I propose we direct our troops in that general direction and I’ll call Katherina; see what she’s saying,” Alvarez proposed. The gathered figures generally nodded, some with enthusiasm and some with reluctance. An initial course of action was set.

*

In Auria, several of the commanders of the Lauchenoirian forces were ordered to take their men and move to assist the Aurians in surrounding Juraceda. Most of them had been in the north-west of the country, engaging the remnants of General Michelin’s faction. While some remained, the bulk began to move east, towards Juraceda; while in Buttercity Alvarez sent a message requesting to speak to Queen Katherina.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Lumiere, Auria

Pens, Rula Lēbela (Five Dragonfly Road): a truly famous (and infamous) address within Aurian collective memories. The white stone house sat inside its own small park, largely clouded by old trees dotting the property. The small private driveway was lined with uniformed police officers, who had presumably been given the high honor (or the short straw) of being the first line of defense for the Prime Minister’s personal residence.

The shiny new security gate slowly slid open, revealing two black trucks with tinted windows. The officers immediately snapped to attention as the miniature motorcade passed, turning back to the gate as the trucks stopped in front of the house. Surrounded by a group of royal guards, Queen Katherina stepped out of the second van, her deep purple Halar matching the colors of the flag that waved on the nearby flagpole. Despite the beautiful weather of Auria's temperate summers, the Queen did not bask in the sun. She quickly made her way inside, moving with a purpose.

One of Prime Minister Arquette’s staffers was waiting for her in the open foyer, and she gave a bow as the Aurian head of state and her entourage made their ways inside. “Welcome, Your Majesty. He is expecting you upstairs, in his study. But he was quite concerned at the sudden need for a meeting, and frankly, so is his staff. Could you tell us what the issue is, so we can help and prepare him?”

Katherina shook her head and made her way up the stairs, passing a few paintings that had been recovered from the residences of coup conspirators. At the top of the grand staircase, she took a right, facing an ornate oak door. She cracked it open and peered through it, making sure that Arquette was alone in his lavish office. She entered quietly, shutting the door behind her.

Arquette stood at the sight of the young monarch, an indiscernible emotion on his face. “Your Majesty. What may I do to help you?”

Katherina’s gaze was cold and unyielding. “Well, nothing much, really. I was more wondering why our troop commanders in the North are saying that you ordered them to stand down from their pursuit of criminals. I was about to call Chancellor Stendē and talk about their interference, until I heard that you had already told the front commanders to stand down and stop preparing for a siege.” She tilted her head. “What game are you playing, Kuren Arquette?”

The politician sat, gesturing for his guest to do the same. “I don't play games with the lives of our citizens, whether they be soldiers, dissidents, or otherwise. Preventing a bloody struggle for Juraceda should be our utmost priority. The UAC aren't Andrew or Michelin. They are our own citizens. I'm not going to order them to be assaulted and killed if I can avoid it.” He cocked an eyebrow with a slight smile. “Speaking of playing games, what were you doing calling my commanders in the field?”

Katherina resisted the urge to snarl. Condescending bastard. “I just want to make sure that our nation is secure and that justice is served properly And neither of those things will happen if we roll over to militant communists. We will just look like weak cowards with no legitimacy. And you wonder why we're a joke on the international stage.”

“Massacring UAC members would only make us look worse on the international stage than we already do. Besides, I have been working with our allies on our next steps. As we speak, a Milintican negotiator is making his way into Juraceda to contact leaders of this band of the Commune. Once he comes back with an offer and a plan, we can start to move forward, ideally without fighting.”

The Queen was incredulous. “You trust an ambassador from a radical socialist nation to be a reliable negotiator for our interests?” She rubbed an eyebrow tiredly. “Sure, sure. I'm certain that that totally won't go wrong at all. You have to stop this, Kuren. If you don't want to siege the city, fine. Let the Lauchenoirians do it! They were more than eager to march the first time. Our hands would be cleaner and this whole situation would be over. We could finally be at peace.”

“And that peace means nothing if it costs even more Aurian lives. And, even though I don't agree with their methods, some of their requests are sound. The rest are incredibly naïve, of course, and I'm pretty sure that Bonnet is some type of narcissist. But regardless, they are a political group. And I will not let you interfere further to prevent a peaceful solution to this crisis, Katherina.”

Katherina's face contorted into a sneer. “You ‘will not let me’? I'm appalled at your sudden boldness. You never were this active and confrontational before…” She kept eye contact, practically staring into Arquette’s soul. “It’s because my mother is gone, isn't it? You had her do all of the heavy lifting in exile and all of the rebuilding once we came back. But now that we are more stable and secure, you want to take the responsibility and authority that you neglected, especially because you think that I'll just sit here and take it. Well, Jaques, I will not sit by as you hoard power and drive this country into the ground. You don't have what it takes to rule this country.”

The Queen stormed out of the office, and the slam of the door was so strong that it shook the nearby paintings and portraits on the wall.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Made in collaboration with Xiomera)

Outskirts of Juraceda, Auria

The loud ruckus of an Eirian transport truck driving down a dirt road seemed to echo through the usually peaceful Laklār Forest. The truck, a bit worse for wear after frequent use in the Aurian countryside. Sitting at the other end of the canvas-topped truck were a pair of Eirian army soldiers, their dark green fatigues sticking out a bit in a forest largely made up of birch trees.

The thick forest widened out into a small clearing, allowing the driver of the truck to see both a farm house nearby and the shadows of Juraceda further beyond. At this point, the truck had slowed to a halt, prompting the pair of soldiers in the back to stand and step out. One of them pulled a couple of large boxes out of the way, revealing a Milintican in a suit that was just a little dirty from sitting in the back of a truck for a while. The more senior of the soldiers extended his hand, helping his passenger down from the truck. "We'll be waiting here, Kuren. You can return once the first demands are made." He handed over a small device. "Here is your panic button... Just in case."

Aika Mete nodded politely and accepted the device from the Eirian soldier. With a quick brushing off of his suit and straightening of his tie, he began walking towards the farmhouse. The sunlight glinted brightly off the Milintican flag pinned to his lapel as he walked forward. He stopped about thirty feet from the farmhouse, waiting calmly for his hosts.

In the distance, an Aurian peeked through one of the windows of the farm house, examining the situation thoroughly. The Eirians had retreated towards the edge of the forest, cautiously watching Mete and the house. They didn't want to escalate any sort of tensions, but they also did not want to abandon an allied dignitary to a pack of unpredictable partisans.

The door to the attached garage creaked open, revealing a group of black-clad UAC members walking towards the Milintican while carrying a table and chairs, which they unceremoniously dropped in the grass. Alain Bonnet walked out with them, sitting down in one of the old chairs.

"Welcome, my friend. Please, sit." As the negotiator sat, the Aurian eyed him with a warm expression. "My lieutenants wanted me to ask you inside, but I do not wish to intimidate you. There's no point to it, I think." He glanced upwards, over Mete's shoulder. "Although I'm not too sure I like the look of that truck over there..."

"You needn't worry about them. They won't cause an incident while I am here. I am Aika Mete, special representative of the Milintican government. I can assure you the intent of everyone here is to seek a peaceful and acceptable resolution to your issues with the current Aurian government." Mete placed his briefcase on the table, opening it in view of the group. Inside, along with a bunch of papers and pens, was a bottle. He handed the bottle to Bonnet. "Kawhe pango roa, a traditional beverage of the Paora people. My people don't drink alcohol, but hopefully a nice strong coffee-based drink will help us celebrate if our discussions are successful. Either way, it is a gift in the spirit of openness and discussion."

Bonnet smiled widely. "How kind of you!" He glanced towards one of the other UAC members, who was standing just a few meters behind them. "Could you bring us some glasses, or at least cups, so we may enjoy this gift together? And I believe we have some local soup in the house, as we just prepared dinner for our camp. Could you bring us a few bowls please?"

Bonnet's subordinate nodded and walked back to the house as the communist leader turned back to face the Milintican representative. "There are some amazing cooks in town that made us some delicious green onion and potato soup. I hope you may partake in it as well? I could not live with myself if I left a guest without food at dinnertime."

"It would be my pleasure to try it," Mete smiled. "Hospitality is a high value among my people, so the kindness of others is always appreciated." As the two men waited for Bonnet's subordinate to return, Mete leaned back slightly in his chair. "So, before we begin with the nitpicky details of negotiation, why don't you tell me about yourself a bit? I like to get to know someone before getting down to business, as the capitalists say," he added with a slight laugh.

`Bonnet chuckled at the turn of phrase. "Well, there's not much to know, I'm afraid. I'm just a writer who has always dreamt of a better life for all of us, past vanity and greed. Unfortunately, there wasn't much use for dreamers under the old monarchy, and especially not under the Orange Crown*, so I was forced to put down my pen for a while. But I've always been... How do you say it in English? An ee-dealist." Bonnet's Aurian accent faded in and out as he spoke. "What about you, Kuren Mete? How can a person end up as a negotiator and diplomat in the middle of an impending siege?"

"I grew up as a very talkative child," Mete laughed. "I was told it would be best to turn that into an advantage and become a diplomat. I joined the MPP during high school, entered the diplomatic service after college, and that was how I ended up here. Not directly here, of course. I've represented Milintica in many places around the world. I'm semi-retired these days, but I still get asked to help out now and again if I can be useful. That's what drew me to this particular mission. I want to help the UAC survive, ideally without bloodshed. There are very few socialist places in the world nowadays, we Milinticans would hate to see one overrun."

"I'm glad that there are more like us who are willing to take action. And a diplomatic career is full of honor. I just wish that I thought that diplomacy would work very well in our case. It's a bit harder to represent our cause and negotiate when we are unfairly labeled terrorists by those who have stayed past their mandate." Bonnet grabbed a pen and tapped it against the table a few times. "I admit, I was surprised that the Aurian army and their Coalition didn't destroy the whole city as soon as we declared independence. May I ask why that is? The area has been cut off from cell service."

"The Coalition has no interest in letting the Queen simply blast you off the map and won't support that. I can promise you that Milintica, in particular, is not prepared to allow such an outcome. It is my understanding that the Eirians have also interceded to prevent a military operation. Both of our governments desire very much to ensure that Katherina restrains herself and acts in a civilized fashion in regards to this matter."

Bonnet smiled wryly. "We were saved from being killed by our own government by you all down south and our siblings across the strait? If that doesn't say something about the current state of Aurian governance, I don't know what does."

A pair of UAC devotees brought a pair of glasses, two mid-sized bowls of a thin, cream-based soup, and a pair of spoons. Bonnet bowed his head in thanks to his followers before gesturing to the soup."It won't stay warm for long, you know. And besides, between bites, we can hear each other's positions and concessions. Have you gone to the Aurian government with any deal, or am I the first visit you've made?"

"You are the first visit. I was hoping to be able to take your position back to the government as a neutral party in the dispute, who wants a good outcome for everyone involved. I will add, though, that should it come to it, you will have the full backing of the Milintican government." Mate paused to take a spoonful of the soup. "Ah, delicious."

"I appreciate that support. And I assume, if the Eirians stepped in so willingly, that they'd be willing to offer their assistance as well? I served with some Eirian soldiers last year, and they were less than happy to have to fight a war in strange woods." Bonnet took a sip of the kahwe pango roa, nodding his approval. "Very nice. We do not have much coffee here, so this is interesting." He put down his cup. "And as for our position, we would either like fast, tangible reform, or independence. We would be willing to settle for less than independence, perhaps, under the right circumstances."

"I am definitely willing to present your position to the government, but would suggest a third option. Perhaps substantial autonomy within the current state would be in order?" Mete removed his suit jacket to make himself more comfortable as talking began in earnest. "Along with some form of security guarantees and agreement to drop the terrorism charges?"

"That is perfectly acceptable, provided that the government in Lumiere honors these terms. I, sadly, do not have as much faith that they will." Bonnet sipped another spoonful of soup. "And, my question is, what would we have to give up in exchange? How much of our souls do we have to sell in order for us to gain basic security?"

"That would be depending on what the government in Lumiere expects in return," Mete replied. "I would, naturally, try to keep their demands as reasonable and as simple as possible. I do have to find out what they expect though. I will put it this way: without the Coalition, the government's support and even its very survival become debatable at best. That is a powerful bargaining chip I intend to draw upon if needed to ensure things go well."

"I see. Well, as long as we have a fair degree of autonomy, or at least a way to influence policy... I believe we could listen to the government demands. As much as we loathe their actions, sabotaging our own existence out of an ideological disagreement seems... Impractical."

"In that case, I will be happy to present your position to the powers that be. Given the situation, I am confident that I can make them see reason. Unlike some I could mention," Mete laughed.

Bonnet returned the laugh politely. "Thank you, kura. I do appreciate your willingness to help us. I do realize that the situation that we are in isn't exactly ideal." He took the last bite of his bowl of soup before flipping it over, an old Aurian superstition. "What else do you need of us?"

Mete smiled. "Nothing other than to be patient and let me try to work my magic with the representatives of the government. Eirian and Milintican forces will make sure you are safe until then. I hope to have promising news for you quickly." Mete mirrored the gesture with the soup bowl before nodding. "Is there anything specific you would like me to communicate to the government or to the Coalition forces other than what we have discussed?"

"Well, you can give my thanks to the Coalition forces for waiting and giving us some buffer space. As for the government, make it clear that unless elections are held as soon as possible, the United Aurian Commune will remain in Juraceda." Bonnet thought for a moment, seemingly weighing a decision. "And... Tell them that, in exchange for quick elections, we can tell them where to find one of their most hated fugitives."

Mete raised an eyebrow. "That last bit will certainly be an intriguing incentive to the government. Is the name something you can release at this time?"

"With respect, not at this time. We have to bait the hook, as my fisherman brother would say." Bonnet looked distant, his joking tone not meeting his eyes. "But I have a feeling the capital people will know what I mean. Or, at least, enough to suspect." The distant look now had an unsavory snarl to it, as if Bonnet had bit into a lemon.

"An understandable precaution. I am sure the government authorities will be sufficiently intrigued." Mete found himself very curious as to who the mystery fugitive was, but knew better than to press the issue. "I will convey all of this to the other side and negotiate from there, but this is my number." The Milintican passed a small card over to Bonnet. "You’re welcome to contact me with any concerns or requests as I proceed."

"Thank you." The Aurian stood and bowed, placing the card in the pocket of his suit. "I hope you make it back past the blockade safely. You've got a heavy weight in your hands, Kura. Please, for our sakes, don't drop it."

----

Mete found himself thinking about Bonnet's parting words on the long drive back from Juraceda. He indeed had a weighty responsibility on his hands now, to convince the Aurian government to listen to the UAC and be reasonable. Mete could only hope he was up to the task.

*A name for the regime of Andrew Laurent-Ćordonnier

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Outside Juraceda, Northern Auria

“Let's gather the rest of the boxes over here, against the wall.”

Alain Bonnet pointed at a small cluster of boxes in the corner of the barn, causing a few of his subordinates to gingerly put down the heavy wooden crates they were carrying at that location. Luckily for them, the hay on the barn's dusty floor provided some cushion, making their jobs easier. The UAC members began walking back towards the nearby farmhouse, leaving Bonnet to inspect the growing pile of crates in the corner. With a careful lift of a lid, he peered inside the nearest crate, examining the stacked pistols inside. Xiomeran-made pieces of shit. I don't know why we ever considered using such cursed things.

“Having second thoughts, Alain?”

A tall man stood at the barn door, his red armband sticking out against his dark and dirty clothes.

Bonnet resisted the urge to sneer, adopting an almost-joking smile instead. “You'd like that, wouldn't you, Gervej?”

The UAC officer jutted his chin out slightly. “There is still time, Kura.” The title sounded more like an insult than a courtesy. “Bring the council in here and announce that you changed your mind. They can take care of the rest. Please, you need to act before the horde arrives in town.” He gestured at the pile of crates. “Or, at least, hide some of the weapons. You are castrating us. You are dooming us and the nation to the same torture that we've suffered for decades.”

Bonnet raised an eyebrow, meeting Gervej’s tough gaze. “You know, begging doesn't really look good on you, my friend.” He wrung his hands. “And this deal saves us from the wrath of thousands of angry Lauchenoirian capitalists and others who would see us crushed at the first chance that they could. The Commune now has a future instead of a death sentence.”

“You have written our death warrants!” The taller man stormed towards Bonnet, getting right in his face. “You think the pigs in power are just going to let us have legitimacy in government? They will kill us while we are weak, and make sure no one even remembers what we stood for. You are a traitor, and you have doomed us all.”

Bonnet stood his ground, only looking down to wipe a bit of Gervej’s spit off of his shirt. “I am no traitor. After all, the Council agrees with me, not you. This deal saves us from the crushing fist of the rich and gives us a voice to speak to the Aurian people with. This deal gives us a chance, something we have never had before.” He walked around the Lieutenant, turning back once he reached the barn door. “We wouldn't have needed this deal if you would've just listened to me, you know. But no, you convinced them to make a big stand. And then, cooperate with that disgusting bastard Michelin. Don't get angry at us for trying to fix your mistakes, Gervej.” The Chairman of the UAC turned his back on his colleague, walking towards the farmhouse without another word.

—

Lumiere, Auria

Prime Minister Jaques Arquette sat behind his ornate desk, reading the most recent intelligence briefing from the northern front. The corners of his mouth slowly crept up in a smile as he read the report. Bonnet isn't as suicidal as I expected. The Aurian head of government had expected more of a pushback from the UAC on the terms of the deal, so when Bonnet accepted the first offer without question, Arquette was very suspicious. Still, coalition soldiers verified that the communist militia was actively disassembling their defenses around Juraceda and turning over their weapons and ammunition. At least Bonnet is a man of his word.

A knock at the door caused the Prime Minister to look up. “Come in,” he said, taking off his reading glasses.

One of his staffers, a young woman named Elena, peeked her head through the door. “Mister Prime Minister? Her Majesty wants to schedule a meeting as soon as possible.” She stepped into the office, closing the door quietly behind her. “It wasn't her chief of staff calling. It was her, herself. And she sounded… Well, I don't think she intends to have a civil meeting.”

Arquette nodded, setting the intelligence folder back on the table. “I knew she would call. Thank you, Elena. I'm sorry if she yelled at you or said anything hurtful.” He stood, tying his vidukjost tightly. “As for a meeting, I'm afraid that we will be very busy in the coming weeks, as we need to put together two conventions and schedule elections in every municipality in the country. Not to mention that we are still in the process of restoring essential utilities and services to much of the country. So no, I sadly do not have time to meet with her. If she calls back, please tell her that in no uncertain terms.”

“Of course, Mister Prime Minister. Is there anything else that you need?”

“No, thank you.” As Elena turned towards the door, Arquette spoke up again. “Actually, I need the phone numbers of any regional election officers who are in the nation and not implicated in any collusion or treason cases, please.”

Elena looked confused. “All of them, sir?”

“As many as you can find.” Arquette sighed. “After that mob of traitors stormed this house, our country was set on a new course. Nothing will be the same now. And I have a feeling that there will be some changes made to our electoral system at these two conventions. So, we have to plan an election that we don't know the exact details of, because if we don't, we'll face a potential communist revolution.” At that revelation, the Prime Minister sat back down again. “Let's get to work, shall we?”

[Lauchenoiria]

The Secretary-General of LIDUN was a sober-looking middle-aged woman from Butterfly Island, the wealthiest province of Lauchenoiria. She wore her hair in a butterfly-shaped claw clip the colour of the Lauchenoirian flag but otherwise dressed in neutral officewear shades. Her name was Marina Gonzalez. Gonzalez was no fan of communism, but very few high-level diplomatic staff from Lauchenoiria were (if any). Nevertheless, she believed - as did Josephine Alvarez - that this deal was perhaps a better option than further bloodshed. Bonus points that it would annoy Neina Arana.

Alvarez wanted out of Auria, because it seemed more and more like an unwinnable battle, politically if not militarily. Lauchenoirian public opinion contradicted itself. Communists should be crushed. We should support the Aurian Royal family (but only them: monarchy elsewhere is bad). Regional devolution is always good- but not for commies! Democracy and fair elections now! Except, Katherina thinks that's bad, so no.

It was better to get out now before it became even messier, hence declining Eiria's policing invitation. They were also still slightly salty about the halting of their army's advance. All this considered, Alvarez had publicly supported the deal and Gonzalez, aware now that her own government would not object, made her own statement and proposal.

"We are pleased that this latest development in Auria has led to dialogue and not violence. It is important in a democratic society to consider structures of government, and this office welcomes the use of constitutional conventions to aid in the democratic recovery process following the recent civil conflict. In light of this deal, I shall consider appointing a Special Representative to aid in the national dialogue due to take place in these conventions, after consulting with involved parties. LIDUN applauds efforts to engage in democratic improvement and open dialogue."

Privately, she did not fully trust the UAC. But if these conventions were done well, they could be a game-changer for Aurian politics. And one can hope.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Below the Royal Palace, Lumiere, Auria
March 13th, 2024

Despite its dark and dull appearance, the Crypt of the Crown was one of the most recognizable and sacred sights in all of Auria. Consisting of multiple octagonal towers full of carvings and tombs, the crypt sat below the Royal Palace, with strict visitation hours for tourists and even stricter security. Alas, those hours did not apply to certain visitors.

Prince Mathēu nodded at the guard posted at the start of the hall to the crypt, wrinkling his nose slightly at the ever-present smell of stone dust. Despite his bigger dress shoes, he took extra care to walk slowly on the stone favors, his footsteps barely making a sound. The dim entry hall had the names of hundreds of nobles, knights, magistrates, and parliamentarians who had been deemed worthy enough to have their name in the hall after their deaths.

The entry hall opened into a small antechamber, complete with banners of the House of Laurent on the walls and a statue of King Čarles I in the center. Instead of going to the right or left (to the graves of deceased princes, princesses, and consorts), the Prince continued on, darting around the statue. The hall gradually got larger, until Mathēu arrived at a huge room full of ornate tombs and effigies. The Prince’s pace slowed, until he stood before a pair of newer tombs placed side by side.

King Nićolas III the Beloved
1972-2023
A kind soul, Beloved by all, Taken too soon.

Queen Regent Sophie(Sofē) I the Brave
1973-2023
Walked through fire for her country, Paid the price for our freedom.

While the final resting places for most royal consorts were in the Chamber of Consorts, given both Queen Sophie’s status as a Queen Regent and the legacy that she left for the Aurian people, there had been no question that she deserved to rest with all of the other reigning monarchs in Aurian history. The 20 year old Prince bit his lip and lowered his head, choking back tears at the sight of the dedications on the bronze plaques. Very fitting dedications. They would’ve hated them, though. Mom would’ve called it “too dramatic,” and Dad would’ve quipped that they should’ve included something about his dashing looks. He cracked a small, sad smile to himself. Still, the designer did well.

The echoes of footsteps from the hall drew the Prince from his thoughts. However, no one came into view, causing Mathēu to sigh. “Come out, Tōmas. You are never stealthy, I’m sorry to say.”

Prince Tōmas of Lei Ternakōr, Mathēu’s older brother, crept out from the hall, looking a bit sheepish. “Sorry. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Mathēu shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that, Tōm. Besides, you have just as much right to be down here as I do. Perhaps even more so, as I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go down here.”

The elder prince looked at the floor. “It’s… difficult. This place never sat well with me, even when we were kids. And now, it…” His eyes darted about, as if searching for the missing words in the crypt. “It feels wrong.” He looked to Mathēu, who was still staring at the tombs of their parents. “Do you understand?”

“More than anyone, Tōm. Except for maybe Katherina, given the circumstances.” He fished a pair of small blue flowers from his pocket, placed one on each tomb, and then slowly walked towards the hall. He gave Tōmas a small pat on the shoulder as he went. “Spend all the time you need down here, okay? It helps.”

“Wait! I actually wanted to talk to you.”

Prince Mathēu turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Down here? Can’t we chat in some place more welcoming?”

“I want to talk down here. It’s much more private. No more cameras, nosy aides, or curious guards to listen to us.”

Mathēu tilted his head. “Okay. What do you want to talk about that requires secrecy?”

Tōmas glanced away, pacing his way towards the middle of the room. “It's about Katherina, Mat. She isn't herself. And she's taking the country with her.”

The younger brother pursed his lips. “I’m trying to help ease the load she carries. Really, I am. If you'd like to help out more, please feel free to do so. There are a few hundred construction projects to raise money for.” His brow furrowed as he thought back on his brother's statement. “‘Taking the country with her?’ What does that mean?”

“She's pissed with Arquette. She wanted Juraceda to burn, regardless if the UAC surrendered. She also reportedly sent conflicting orders to the front line, even after the deal was made. Plus, given your, uh… relationship with the palace guards, you should know of the rumors on what goes on in the basement. She's practically giving those conventions a reason to remove the monarchy.”

Mathēu’s gaze turned icy. “I don't like what you're implying about our sister or about my relationships. Stay out of my business, if you please.” He looked downwards. “And so what if I've heard something? What exactly are you saying, Tōmas?”

“I'm saying that we can't just stand by while Kat does this kind of shit. We have a responsibility to the Aurian people to reveal what we know and let the people decide what they think about it.” Tōmas took a step towards his brother. “Come on, Mat. You know it's true. We have to speak up, before it's too late.”

The younger Prince’s face turned into a sneer. “Don't pretend like you give a shit about everyday Aurians, Tōm. You just want the throne to yourself, and you see an opportunity to seize it while the conventions are going on. Well, I want no part of it.” He stormed towards the exit hall, before turning back one last time. “How dare you try to ask me to betray my sister here, of all places! You're sick, Tōmas. I may not agree with what Katherina is doing, but there is no way that I'm helping you betray her either. Leave me out of this.”

Mathēu stormed off, leaving Tōmas alone in the crypt.

Delēn Convention Center, Lumiere

An older, wiry gentleman stood behind a lectern on the stage of one of Auria’s biggest meeting halls, looking around as the assembled crowd took their seats. The grand hall was filled with some of the most influential Aurians from all walks of life (who hadn’t been indicted for treasonous activity): professors, business owners, politicians, journalists, lawyers, military officers. Nothing got done in Auria without the approval of at least one person in the hall. As such, it was only fitting that all of them get invited for one of the most important conventions in Aurian history.

The gentleman on stage cleared his throat into the mic. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you all for coming. We gather here today to discuss the very future of our nation, now that we have our nation back. Though the past two years put us through an indescribable struggle, we still persevere. Now, we are left painfully aware of the flaws and cracks in our historic institutions that we must repair if we ever dream of peace.”

“We come together from different walks of life, different political beliefs, different perspectives. But no matter who you are or where you are from, today, you are strictly an Aurian who needs to pick up the fragments of your embattled nation.” He paused for a moment, letting the rhetoric sink in. “Well, shall we get started?”

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Royal Palace, Lumiere
May 1st, 2024, 8:55 PM

What has our family become?

The sound of slowly rustling papers echoed through the salon, providing some noise in what would otherwise be unbearable silence. Katherina Laurent slowly adjusted a small stack of papers that sat on the polished bar next to an untouched glass of Spece that the Queen couldn’t bring herself to drink. A small, opened envelope sat atop a stack of security logs grainy screencaps of security camera footage.

Katherina stared vacantly at the mural of a berry field on the nearby wall, feeling almost completely numb. The recent spike of emotion from the past couple of hours had combined with her rising stress levels from the ongoing parliamentary debates, leaving the young monarch completely drained. However, unlike many monarchs before her, she found solace in neither local liquor nor imported luxuries. That particular night, for Katherina, all of the elegant trappings of the palace only highlighted the ironic reality that her family was falling apart at the seams.

A few knocks reverberated through the old oak door. The Queen didn’t answer, but the guard on the other side opened up the door anyways, revealing Prince Tōmas and his entourage of Golden Guards. “Mōs atstiet,” he said, dismissing his detail to the hallway. Katherina barely looked at him, instead continuing to examine the mural.

“You missed the fundraiser downtown. What happened, Kat?”

The Queen held back a sneer, electing to close her eyes instead. “I should be asking you the same question, Breima.” That term, usually used to convey familial endearment, now took on a more sinister tone.

“What? What do you mean? Kat, I-”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” The Queen still didn’t look at her brother. “I know about your spies on my staff. I know about your little meeting with monarchist holdouts in the Convention. And I know about the speeches that you keep on hand just in case I slip up.” She pointedly glanced over her shoulder. “Tell me, how long have you intended to overthrow me?”

Tōmas’s expression hardened. “Overthrow you? How dare you! You accuse me of trying to overthrow you while you let radicals strip away the Monarchy piece by piece? Your lack of consistent and decisive action has caused the people to lose all faith in us. It’s not me who you should be afraid of.”

“You think I’m afraid of you? You think I’m desperately trying to thwart your little games to keep control for myself?” Katherina looked away again as her eyes started to fill with tears. “I’m afraid of the damage that you would cause. That you have caused.”

The Prince’s face fell. “That I… what happened?”

Katherina grabbed the stack of papers and the glass from the bar, turning towards the door. “Why don’t you use your little network of spies and figure it out?” She briskly left the room, not stopping to breathe until she got to her private chambers. She carefully placed the papers on the bed, delicately opening the envelope once again to reveal a small note in a familiar handwriting.

I don’t want to be part of this anymore.
I’ll be safe. I don’t know if I’ll be back.
Don’t look for me.

The tears fell down in earnest now, staining the cream-colored stationary a shade of light grey.

With an unsteady sigh, the Queen reassembled the papers when a thought caused her to pause. She opened a drawer in her nightstand and removed a small metal object as well as the small trash can from the side of her bed. Walking over to the outer door, she waited for a nod from the supervising guard before stepping onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard. The crisp autumn air blew her hair back as she placed the trash can on the stone floor.

With one fluid motion, she tossed the screenshots and the letter in the bin before pouring out her glass of Spece on top of it. She fished the small lighter from her pocket and ignited it, tossing it in the bin before stepping back. The liquor caused the flames to spread quickly and burn brightly, quickly burning through the papers stacked within the bin.

As the smell of smoke drifted up to her nose, Katherina looked upwards towards the stars, saying a silent prayer.

May the Angels protect you, Matēu.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Lumiere, Auria

Kuren Gaks Laizane may have looked like your typical portly grandfather and/or butler type, with a portly belly and a head of stubbly white hair that had long since given way to baldness.

Despite this unremarkable appearance, he freely and confidently walked the ornate halls of the Aurian Royal Palace’s private household, with servants and guards stopping to give him a nod or bow as he proceeded through a maze of grandiose hallways.

With a left turn and a stroll down a brief flight of stairs, the palace’s large windows and gilded wood ornamentation gave way to grey stone and yellowed ceiling lights. Laizane nodded to the pair of guards who flanked the hall before making his way to a metal lined door, swiping his ID card and stepping back.

Beyond, instead of muted stone and faded carpets, the room literally glowed, with warm and soft lights causing shimmers throughout the room. A slight smile grew across his lips as he basked in the light. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.

Laizane himself may have looked unassuming, but he got to see things everyday that other Aurians could never dream of seeing once in their lifetimes.

After all, he was the Master of the Royal Jewels.

Glass-covered, temperature-controlled pedestals and cabinets lined the room, filled with some of the grandest treasures of the Aurian monarchy. Crowns, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and other jewelry shimmered softly, all of them testament to the natural resources and notable tradition of lapidary endemic to Auria and Eiria.

After drawing on a pair of white gloves and slowly inspecting the room’s contents with his discerning eyes, he turned to face the door, watching it carefully while adjusting his carefully-tailored black uniform Halar.

The heavy metal door swung open again, revealing the young Queen Katherina. In an unadorned red halar and casual boots, the young monarch was dressed much more informally than she would normally be seen out in public.

“Good morning, Gaks. How’s the family?” The queen asked with a friendly smile as the man bowed to her

“Good, your majesty. Lara just chose what university she wants to go to. Not that I needed another reason to feel old…”

Katherina chuckled. “Hey, as long as she comes back to visit, you’ll be fine.” She pulled out a folder from the pocket on the inside of her robe. “I have the schedule and outfit plan for the week, if you would like to go over them? I’d hate to keep you from your day.”

“Of course, kurena. But you don’t need to worry about taking up too much of my day,” Laizane said with a kind smile, pulling out a notepad. “You are my priority.”

Katherina gave a thankful nod before unfolding the pages she had stashed away. “Alright, firstly, Andrei had a light blue number planned for the meeting with the Eirian ambassador, so I was hoping to use the blue topaz-studded hairpins and comb set for that…”

As the Queen went down her list of outfits for each event on her calendar, footsteps echoed down the steps behind her. Gaks snapped to attention before giving a deep bow. “Your Highness.”

Princess Ana of Lei Laukjelasei strolled into the chamber, giving a nod to the older gentleman before giving a slight bow to her older sister. “I heard you were in here. Figured I’d stop by, as I was hoping to use the Theodosia garnet star earrings for the bridge ribbon cutting tonight.”

Laizane gave a glance to the Queen, replying only upon her nod of assent. “Of course, Your Highness. I’ll get those ready for you.” He grabbed a box from the solid oak shelf and paused, looking between the sisters. “If you would excuse me, I will bring these over to Andrei and Elain before they get forgotten.”

The two royals nodded their thanks to the man, who hurried out of the vault, leaving them alone.

“I hope you don’t mind me grabbing Grandmother’s earrings. The Marquis and Marquise of Tural will be there, and they are the only ones in the nation with a wardrobe to rival the Palace’s,” Ana said with a note of disdain. “I was hoping to at least match their glamor this time.”

Katherina smiled lightly. “It’s not a problem at all, An. Besides, red isn’t really my color anyways.”

“You’re the queen of Auria. You have a whole staff dedicated to customizing your wardrobe,” the princess remarked jokingly. “Every color is your color.”

“I wish that were true.” Katherina glanced around the room, moving from case to case and shelf to shelf with an unreadable expression. “I wish I knew what to do with half of this stuff. Mom and Dad knew the proper occasions to show each of these off, and I just…”

The monarch trailed off, a case towards the end of the room catching her eye. She drifted wordlessly towards it, the glimmer of other precious gems not distracting her for a moment.

A crown of silver metal and blue gems, called Prince Andreu’s Coronet after its original bearer or the “third-born’s crown” or Kāpnord Crown due to its current one, sat alone behind a sheet of polished glass.

The crown was sleeker than others in the royal collection, with thin silver detailing and a lack of full fabric cap reflecting the style of Aurian princely crowns. A large star sapphire cabochon sat in its center, surrounded by faceted gems of dark aquamarine that lined the entire crown.

Alas, the coronet had been stuck in its case for some time due to the absconding of its present bearer, Prince Matēu, leaving it without a head to sit upon.

The queen lightly placed her hand on the glass between her and her brother’s crown, closing her eyes while remaining silent.

“I don’t know if he is coming back, Kat.” Ana said, placing her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “He never got used to this life.”

With a soft sob, Katherina nodded. “I know. And I know that we have Tōm to thank for that in part.”

Ana sighed. “Our prick of a brother aside, we should consider announcing something about Mat stepping away from royal life. We can’t keep up the same public schedule that we had before. I barely have enough time for my own schedule as it is.”

“I know, I know. I just…” Katherina wiped her eyes and composed herself, her vulnerability quickly falling behind her practiced and measured mask. “I don’t want to drive him away for good.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall once again, and Laizane reentered the room. If he had noticed the Queen’s emotional state, he did not acknowledge it.

“Is there something I can take out for you, Your Majesty?” He asked politely.

Katherina stepped back from the case. “No, thank you Gaks.” She handed the manilla folder with outfit overviews over to the Master of the Royal Jewels. “I’ll leave the rest to you, if that’s alright. I trust your judgement.”

“Very good, Kurena.” Gaks gave a slight bow before examining the plans, donning his reading glasses as he worked.

Satisfied that everything was taken care of, the Queen turned to her sister and extended her arm, escorting her out of the Hall of Jewels.

But of all of the shimmering jewelry in the room behind them, the Queen only turned back to glance at the abandoned crown in the corner, its slight blue shine fading as the pair of royals left it alone amongst the other treasures of the Kingdom of Auria.