07-08-2020, 06:32 PM
Laeralsford, Laeral
Even though Delegate Bernard Errante (Conservative from Meridoc) was Defense Minister, he’d never served in the military. But he didn’t need to have been a soldier to realize the perils of being surrounded and forced into an un-ideal course of action by a superior foe. The foe who had him outgunned and surrounded at the moment sat two seats to his right at cabinet meetings-- Representative Gwendoline Schneider, the Conservative Minister of Education.
She’d stolen a march on him, getting her hands on a bombshell video of Shuellian mercenaries attacking civilians at a political protest in Xiomera. In an interview with TV1, she’d spoken passionately about the necessity of ending the killings in Xiomera and bringing democracy and freedom to the far-flung nation. Worst of all, she’d made herself out to be representing the official coalition government stance, forcing Errante and the other members of the government to put themselves on the record as agreeing with her position.
“The murder of protesters, the arbitrary detention of civilians, the use of torture-- these actions violate every principle of international law,” Errante had said to the media, acting as if this strident message had been what he’d been intending to say all along. “If Xochiuche and his regime do not back down, their actions will warrant a decisive and forceful international response.”
With that, the Liu government’s prior cautious stance with regards to Xiomera took a swift turn towards the belligerent-- all due to pressure from one Education Minister who was far too good at using the media to her advantage. There would be a reckoning for Gwendoline Schneider someday. Liu and her backers were too strong-willed to let Schneider’s blatant breach of discipline go unpunished. But day by day, Errante was growing more convinced that he would not be around to see it.
[/hr]
Gwendoline Schneider was working in her office at Assembly Hall- as head of the Conservative caucus, she rated a decent-sized office within the legislative building- when she heard a knock at the door. As expected. She stood up to open the door, greeting the man standing there with the customary kisses on the cheek.
“Victor! It’s a pleasure to see you!”
“And you as well, Gwen,” said Victor Bailly, a balding, brown-haired man in his fifties who was a representative under her in the Conservative caucus. “So what is it you’d like to discuss today?”
“I was hoping I might have your thoughts on some...broader questions than we typically consider here in the Commons. Thoughts on the future of the party.”
“I might need a cup of coffee to talk about that sort of thing so early in the morning!” Victor said, with a smile.
Gwendoline passed him a sealed cup of takeout coffee, still warm. “One of the interns stopped by just twenty minutes ago,” she said. Victor sipped it appreciatively- he wasn’t a snob about coffee, just as long as it warmed him up and put a kick in his step.
“So,” Gwendoline said. “You’ve been following the news regarding Xiomera, haven't you? The military government there is losing its allies on all fronts, and facing a popular uprising in the streets. But like a cornered rat, Xochiuche and his followers are lashing out, rather than seeking to negotiate. Mercenaries running wild on the streets, killing with impunity. Civilians thrown into brutal prison camps for daring to raise their voices against the regime. The people of Xiomera will rise up against their mistreatment soon, but without foreign assistance, it will be a bloodbath.”
“That’s my perspective as well,” Victor said. “It’s been good to see so many voices here in the party and in government coming together to denounce these crimes.”
“Exactly,” Gwendoline said. “You know, Victor, I’ve been seeing the effort that you and the others have been putting into the Xiomera Working Group. You’ve got a lot to be proud of there. Thanks to your sterling efforts in raising awareness, the atrocities in Xiomera, and what we must do to put an end to them, are at the top of the public conscious and the legislative agenda.”
“Thank you,” Victor said. “It’s satisfying to be doing such good work. Knowing that we’re standing up for those unable to stand up for themselves.”
“Precisely,” Gwendoline said. “In fact, I think the efforts of the working group you lead played a key role in getting President Liu to sign the targeted sanctions last week. Why, if I’d had the authority, I would’ve made sure that you and your colleagues in the Xiomera Working Group would’ve been there at the signing.”
“Well, knowing that we’re making an impact is reward enough,” Victor said. “But I appreciate the thought.”
“Of course,” Gwendoline said. “Good work deserves to be recognized. And that brings me to my next point…” she let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I’ve been speaking with Bernard, and he’s been coming under a lot of stress lately. Being Defense Minister at a time like this, and being Party President, and serving in the General Assembly-- it’s a lot of stress for anyone, and I don’t know how much longer he can bear it. You know he started his political career back in 1966? That’s longer than you or I have been alive.”
Victor nodded, and Gwendoline forged ahead. “Don’t tell him I said this-”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Good, good. Now please don’t tell him I said this, but I think he’s planning to announce his retirement soon. Defense Minister and leader of the party makes a fine end to a distinguished career, don’t you think?”
Victor nodded. “He’s been good in Defense, but I’d been thinking for a while that he’s getting up there in years. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s thinking about settling down in retirement.”
“Exactly,” Gwendoline said. “That said, it’s essential that we avoid a damaging battle for the party president position. After our poor showing in 2018, we simply can’t afford it going into the midterms in December. So...I’m asking for your support in my bid for the party presidency.”
She didn’t mention that she was the obvious candidate, because it would be better if he came to understand that on his own. His sequence of thought would be that she was the leader in the Commons, the Education Minister, the architect of the Conservative victory in the Meilinis provincial elections...it was unthinkable that anyone else could take up the position.
Besides, the only other Conservative ministers were Antoine Lambert in Agriculture and Elise Pernot in Transportation-- hardly leadership material. There was a vacuum of leaders at the top of the party, as beyond Schneider and Errante, there were no other Conservatives with a national profile.
“You’re the only possible contender who would be fit for the position,” Victor said. “Yes, I will support you. Assuming Delegate Errante retires or resigns his position, of course.”
“Of course,” Gwendoline said. “Thank you for your support. If it comes to pass that I take up the leadership of the party, we’ll need good leaders to take over leadership in the Commons. And with the good work you’ve been doing lately, I thought of you. I think you’d be good for Chief Whip at the least. Perhaps even something higher.” She leaned back in her seat to gauge Victor’s reaction.
He seemed surprised. “I-- I’m flattered, but I don’t have the seniority. Lambert, or Fabre...both of them would be next in line for those positions.”
“Traditionally, yes,” Gwendoline said. “Those two you mentioned would typically ascend to leadership roles in the parliamentary group. But frankly, Victor, we’re at 38 seats in the Assembly of Commons. We can’t afford to name our leaders on anything besides merit. And I know that you’ve been showing plenty of merit lately. I want your voice in leadership.”
“Yes, thank you very much for thinking of me,” Victor said. “I sincerely appreciate it. And I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
“Thank you, Victor,” Gwendoline said. “Now let’s just get on out there and make change, shall we?”
[/hr]
Château de Clamur, Neidong, Laeral
The Xiomeran loyalist government was headquartered at a centuries-old château that had been kept on display as a historic house before being leased to Crown Prince Texōccoatl and his followers. It made a suitable home for a government in exile, Bernard Errante thought as he walked along the gravel path through the gardens to reach the entrance. The grand yet antiquated facade of the manor house was imposing yet also had a strong sense of faded glory. The château and its residents had been mighty and powerful once, but now they languished in a world that had changed dramatically since their glory days. Perhaps a suitable analogy for himself, he thought. Doing his best to banish such morose thoughts from his mind, he stepped into the foyer of the manor house and followed the uniformed aide there to his appointment with the Xiomeran loyalist defense secretary.
The Xiomeran military aide opened the door to the room where Brigadier General Tlanexchel was waiting. Tlanexchel was a muscular man in full Jaguar Warrior military uniform, who looked as if he could have stepped right off of a military recruitment poster. Errante stepped forward to shake his hand. "General! It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I've heard nothing but good things about you and the forces under your command."
"Minister Errante, thank you for coming. It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Tlanexchel said politely, shaking Errante's hand firmly. The Jaguar Warrior was beginning to master the formalities of diplomatic conduct that came with being a defense secretary, even if he had drawn the line at wearing a suit instead of his uniform. The formal uniform should be formal enough. That's why it's called a formal uniform, he had told his advisors bluntly, and no one was inclined to argue with him. "Please have a seat. Would you like some coffee, or perhaps tea?" Xiomerans always offered their guests refreshments; it was considered rude otherwise.
"A cup of coffee would do me good," Errante said. He'd been drinking a lot of the stuff lately. He made small talk with the general while the coffee arrived, and he sipped it appreciatively. It wasn't bad. Evidently someone in the Xiomeran government-in-exile had taken care in sourcing their caffeinated drinks. "My government," he said, "has spent plenty of time lately discussing the possibilities when it comes to a coming military invasion- er, liberation- of Xiomera, and I'm here to let you know what assistance we can provide when it comes to toppling the Xochiuhue regime. That is, assuming your government still sees a military conflict as inevitable?" He raised an eyebrow.
Tlanexchel sighed slightly. "I've been a military man my whole life, Minister. I'm not afraid to die - or to kill. But I will admit, I never thought I would have to fight my own people." The Jaguar Warrior rolled his coffee cup speculatively in his hands. "If it were up to us, we would be willing to negotiate with the junta and their fake Emperor. But as Xochiuhue makes clear with every brutal act he commits, he's not really giving us that option."
“Every death in war is a tragedy," Errante said. "But the reports of the terrors that Xochiuhue and his regime are committing within Xiomera are more tragic still. Over the course of the discussions within my government, we've decided to work alongside your forces in hopes of putting an end to the tragedy. Ending Xochiuhue's rule. We can't send our soldiers to fight alongside yours, because of the political barriers in the way. But we've made a plan to provide your troops with our support as they go into battle."
"Any support would be greatly appreciated. We understand that you cannot send your own troops - and I am honestly reluctant to ask other nations to commit their own people to fight and risk themselves for what is ultimately a Xiomeran fight, one we should wage and win ourselves. However, I certainly wouldn't say no to a few friendly airstrikes or a bit of naval support while we do that," Tlanexchel said with a slight smile. "But in all seriousness, even in a 'support' role, your people will be at risk."
"Every calculation, every plan that we've produced so far has taken that risk into account," Errante said. He opened his briefcase and opened it to produce a slate-grey policy folder, still standard for military documents, which he passed to the general. "These files contain the details of plans for coordination between our support forces and your troops. We envision Laeralian warships escorting your naval force on the way to the landing site. In particular, we have some frigate and corvette designs ideal for anti-submarine duties and capable of providing missile fire support for allied ground troops. According to the report, one of the enemy's chief advantages will be their superior logistics. Shorter supply lines, more medical facilities, that sort of thing. We have medical ships which can be anchored offshore to tend to your wounded, and medical teams that can go to the front line alongside your soldiers. We are trying to do everything short of sending Laeralian soldiers to fight with you." He nodded to the folder. "The details are all in there, along with instructions for how to contact our defense ministry and National Security Council to discuss the fine points."
Tlanexchel leafed through the folder, pausing every once in a while to make an appreciative noise at various details in the folder. "This is an excellent plan for support, and it actually dovetails very well with my plan for our eventual move to bring the junta down. I will go over the full details of that plan with your defense ministry and National Security Council, of course. But it won't hurt to give you a brief overview."
Tlanexchel tapped on a Cala tablet, eventually producing a map of the Xiomeran mainland. He turned the tablet around so that Errante could see it, one of his fingers pointing at a very unique geographic feature labeled as quechtli, with the city of Zapotlán at its center. "Quechtli - the Neck of Huenya. The narrow bit of land that connects western Huenya, the non-Xiomeran-ethnic area of the island, with the Xiomeran eastern half. The easiest way to launch our fight against the junta will be to take control of the Neck and strangle them there. If we cut off eastern Xiomera from the rest of the country, we can isolate them and use western Huenya as our base to eventually defeat them once and for all."
"Of course, they will know this is the weak spot in their defenses, and will try to prepare for it. But it doesn't take many men to hold off an attacking force once you get control of such a spot. My goal is simple: for Zapotlán, and the Neck, to be our Thermopylae - except this time, the Spartans win. I suppose since we're technically the invaders, we'd be more like the Persians. But I've always seen the Spartans as the good guys in that battle. So....we'll let the junta forces be the Persians in my little scenario. Xochiuhue does make a good Xerxes, after all."
Bernard Errante raised an eyebrow again, and stroked his chin. "Well," he said. "That's...daring. I'm no military man myself, but I can see the risks involved. And the potential pay-off." He gazed down at the tablet Tlanexchel had handed him. "It makes keeping your forces well-supplied all the more important. There would be enemy forces to the east and the west, making the safest resupply be by sea. Which, I suppose, makes it all the more important that the attacking fleet is protected from enemies, whether they're on the sea, under it, or by air."
"Indeed. Securing the initial landing site and fending off junta forces until we can secure the city of Zapotlán will be very challenging - and crucial for success. But I will add that the enemy forces to the west are far less of a threat than the ones to the east. Many of the units in the western half of Huenya, by our assessment, are far less loyal to the junta. Many of their soldiers are from the same ethnic groups that Xochiuhue is repressing. Those that are Xiomeran in ethnicity, having been raised from the West, often have ties to people from those ethnic groups - family, friends, and so on. Their loyalty to the regime will be far shakier than units raised in the east, in the Xiomeran homeland. We expect that once we launch our attack, many of those units will break and begin supporting us. Part of our plan is also to begin raising supplemental levies from the Necatli, Itotemoc and Tepiltzin once we can secure a bridgehead and get weapons to them. Once that happens, it will be much easier for us to implement the plan. We just have to hold initially and fend off the junta." Tlanexchel grinned. "It's an ambitious plan, but not an impossible one."
Errante had been nodding throughout as Tlanexchel outlined his plan. It was daring, certainly, but General Tlanexchel's clear confidence as he explained made its ambitious goals seem entirely achievable. "What is your staff's intended timeline for the initial attack?" he asked.
"Not for another several weeks, at a minimum. We don't want to rush into this; we want to increase the pressure on Xochiuhue, and also to make sure we do have enough potential support inside Xiomera for all of this to work. In addition, we need to be sure our initial assault forces are fully prepared for the attack. The timing of this will be crucial. We don't want to give the junta forces too much time to entrench themselves, but if we attack prematurely, we could lose our one chance to succeed."
"That makes sense. Several weeks will also hopefully give time for discontent within Xiomera itself to simmer, and for the sanctions to take further effect." He nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you very much, General. You've given myself, and our respective military policy staffs, plenty to think about. Don't hesitate to reach out to me should the need arise." He had almost said "me or whoever the Defense Minister is a month from now," and he was grateful he hadn't slipped up.
"I shall, and thank you again for stopping by, as well as for the assistance your country is providing. I'm sure you may have heard it already, but it bears repeating - we're quite grateful for the support you've shown us," the general replied, standing up and offering his hand once more. "Once this is all over, we will be very happy to return the favor."
Even though Delegate Bernard Errante (Conservative from Meridoc) was Defense Minister, he’d never served in the military. But he didn’t need to have been a soldier to realize the perils of being surrounded and forced into an un-ideal course of action by a superior foe. The foe who had him outgunned and surrounded at the moment sat two seats to his right at cabinet meetings-- Representative Gwendoline Schneider, the Conservative Minister of Education.
She’d stolen a march on him, getting her hands on a bombshell video of Shuellian mercenaries attacking civilians at a political protest in Xiomera. In an interview with TV1, she’d spoken passionately about the necessity of ending the killings in Xiomera and bringing democracy and freedom to the far-flung nation. Worst of all, she’d made herself out to be representing the official coalition government stance, forcing Errante and the other members of the government to put themselves on the record as agreeing with her position.
“The murder of protesters, the arbitrary detention of civilians, the use of torture-- these actions violate every principle of international law,” Errante had said to the media, acting as if this strident message had been what he’d been intending to say all along. “If Xochiuche and his regime do not back down, their actions will warrant a decisive and forceful international response.”
With that, the Liu government’s prior cautious stance with regards to Xiomera took a swift turn towards the belligerent-- all due to pressure from one Education Minister who was far too good at using the media to her advantage. There would be a reckoning for Gwendoline Schneider someday. Liu and her backers were too strong-willed to let Schneider’s blatant breach of discipline go unpunished. But day by day, Errante was growing more convinced that he would not be around to see it.
[/hr]
Gwendoline Schneider was working in her office at Assembly Hall- as head of the Conservative caucus, she rated a decent-sized office within the legislative building- when she heard a knock at the door. As expected. She stood up to open the door, greeting the man standing there with the customary kisses on the cheek.
“Victor! It’s a pleasure to see you!”
“And you as well, Gwen,” said Victor Bailly, a balding, brown-haired man in his fifties who was a representative under her in the Conservative caucus. “So what is it you’d like to discuss today?”
“I was hoping I might have your thoughts on some...broader questions than we typically consider here in the Commons. Thoughts on the future of the party.”
“I might need a cup of coffee to talk about that sort of thing so early in the morning!” Victor said, with a smile.
Gwendoline passed him a sealed cup of takeout coffee, still warm. “One of the interns stopped by just twenty minutes ago,” she said. Victor sipped it appreciatively- he wasn’t a snob about coffee, just as long as it warmed him up and put a kick in his step.
“So,” Gwendoline said. “You’ve been following the news regarding Xiomera, haven't you? The military government there is losing its allies on all fronts, and facing a popular uprising in the streets. But like a cornered rat, Xochiuche and his followers are lashing out, rather than seeking to negotiate. Mercenaries running wild on the streets, killing with impunity. Civilians thrown into brutal prison camps for daring to raise their voices against the regime. The people of Xiomera will rise up against their mistreatment soon, but without foreign assistance, it will be a bloodbath.”
“That’s my perspective as well,” Victor said. “It’s been good to see so many voices here in the party and in government coming together to denounce these crimes.”
“Exactly,” Gwendoline said. “You know, Victor, I’ve been seeing the effort that you and the others have been putting into the Xiomera Working Group. You’ve got a lot to be proud of there. Thanks to your sterling efforts in raising awareness, the atrocities in Xiomera, and what we must do to put an end to them, are at the top of the public conscious and the legislative agenda.”
“Thank you,” Victor said. “It’s satisfying to be doing such good work. Knowing that we’re standing up for those unable to stand up for themselves.”
“Precisely,” Gwendoline said. “In fact, I think the efforts of the working group you lead played a key role in getting President Liu to sign the targeted sanctions last week. Why, if I’d had the authority, I would’ve made sure that you and your colleagues in the Xiomera Working Group would’ve been there at the signing.”
“Well, knowing that we’re making an impact is reward enough,” Victor said. “But I appreciate the thought.”
“Of course,” Gwendoline said. “Good work deserves to be recognized. And that brings me to my next point…” she let the words hang in the air for a moment. “I’ve been speaking with Bernard, and he’s been coming under a lot of stress lately. Being Defense Minister at a time like this, and being Party President, and serving in the General Assembly-- it’s a lot of stress for anyone, and I don’t know how much longer he can bear it. You know he started his political career back in 1966? That’s longer than you or I have been alive.”
Victor nodded, and Gwendoline forged ahead. “Don’t tell him I said this-”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Good, good. Now please don’t tell him I said this, but I think he’s planning to announce his retirement soon. Defense Minister and leader of the party makes a fine end to a distinguished career, don’t you think?”
Victor nodded. “He’s been good in Defense, but I’d been thinking for a while that he’s getting up there in years. It doesn’t surprise me that he’s thinking about settling down in retirement.”
“Exactly,” Gwendoline said. “That said, it’s essential that we avoid a damaging battle for the party president position. After our poor showing in 2018, we simply can’t afford it going into the midterms in December. So...I’m asking for your support in my bid for the party presidency.”
She didn’t mention that she was the obvious candidate, because it would be better if he came to understand that on his own. His sequence of thought would be that she was the leader in the Commons, the Education Minister, the architect of the Conservative victory in the Meilinis provincial elections...it was unthinkable that anyone else could take up the position.
Besides, the only other Conservative ministers were Antoine Lambert in Agriculture and Elise Pernot in Transportation-- hardly leadership material. There was a vacuum of leaders at the top of the party, as beyond Schneider and Errante, there were no other Conservatives with a national profile.
“You’re the only possible contender who would be fit for the position,” Victor said. “Yes, I will support you. Assuming Delegate Errante retires or resigns his position, of course.”
“Of course,” Gwendoline said. “Thank you for your support. If it comes to pass that I take up the leadership of the party, we’ll need good leaders to take over leadership in the Commons. And with the good work you’ve been doing lately, I thought of you. I think you’d be good for Chief Whip at the least. Perhaps even something higher.” She leaned back in her seat to gauge Victor’s reaction.
He seemed surprised. “I-- I’m flattered, but I don’t have the seniority. Lambert, or Fabre...both of them would be next in line for those positions.”
“Traditionally, yes,” Gwendoline said. “Those two you mentioned would typically ascend to leadership roles in the parliamentary group. But frankly, Victor, we’re at 38 seats in the Assembly of Commons. We can’t afford to name our leaders on anything besides merit. And I know that you’ve been showing plenty of merit lately. I want your voice in leadership.”
“Yes, thank you very much for thinking of me,” Victor said. “I sincerely appreciate it. And I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”
“Thank you, Victor,” Gwendoline said. “Now let’s just get on out there and make change, shall we?”
[/hr]
Château de Clamur, Neidong, Laeral
The Xiomeran loyalist government was headquartered at a centuries-old château that had been kept on display as a historic house before being leased to Crown Prince Texōccoatl and his followers. It made a suitable home for a government in exile, Bernard Errante thought as he walked along the gravel path through the gardens to reach the entrance. The grand yet antiquated facade of the manor house was imposing yet also had a strong sense of faded glory. The château and its residents had been mighty and powerful once, but now they languished in a world that had changed dramatically since their glory days. Perhaps a suitable analogy for himself, he thought. Doing his best to banish such morose thoughts from his mind, he stepped into the foyer of the manor house and followed the uniformed aide there to his appointment with the Xiomeran loyalist defense secretary.
The Xiomeran military aide opened the door to the room where Brigadier General Tlanexchel was waiting. Tlanexchel was a muscular man in full Jaguar Warrior military uniform, who looked as if he could have stepped right off of a military recruitment poster. Errante stepped forward to shake his hand. "General! It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I've heard nothing but good things about you and the forces under your command."
"Minister Errante, thank you for coming. It's a pleasure to meet you as well," Tlanexchel said politely, shaking Errante's hand firmly. The Jaguar Warrior was beginning to master the formalities of diplomatic conduct that came with being a defense secretary, even if he had drawn the line at wearing a suit instead of his uniform. The formal uniform should be formal enough. That's why it's called a formal uniform, he had told his advisors bluntly, and no one was inclined to argue with him. "Please have a seat. Would you like some coffee, or perhaps tea?" Xiomerans always offered their guests refreshments; it was considered rude otherwise.
"A cup of coffee would do me good," Errante said. He'd been drinking a lot of the stuff lately. He made small talk with the general while the coffee arrived, and he sipped it appreciatively. It wasn't bad. Evidently someone in the Xiomeran government-in-exile had taken care in sourcing their caffeinated drinks. "My government," he said, "has spent plenty of time lately discussing the possibilities when it comes to a coming military invasion- er, liberation- of Xiomera, and I'm here to let you know what assistance we can provide when it comes to toppling the Xochiuhue regime. That is, assuming your government still sees a military conflict as inevitable?" He raised an eyebrow.
Tlanexchel sighed slightly. "I've been a military man my whole life, Minister. I'm not afraid to die - or to kill. But I will admit, I never thought I would have to fight my own people." The Jaguar Warrior rolled his coffee cup speculatively in his hands. "If it were up to us, we would be willing to negotiate with the junta and their fake Emperor. But as Xochiuhue makes clear with every brutal act he commits, he's not really giving us that option."
“Every death in war is a tragedy," Errante said. "But the reports of the terrors that Xochiuhue and his regime are committing within Xiomera are more tragic still. Over the course of the discussions within my government, we've decided to work alongside your forces in hopes of putting an end to the tragedy. Ending Xochiuhue's rule. We can't send our soldiers to fight alongside yours, because of the political barriers in the way. But we've made a plan to provide your troops with our support as they go into battle."
"Any support would be greatly appreciated. We understand that you cannot send your own troops - and I am honestly reluctant to ask other nations to commit their own people to fight and risk themselves for what is ultimately a Xiomeran fight, one we should wage and win ourselves. However, I certainly wouldn't say no to a few friendly airstrikes or a bit of naval support while we do that," Tlanexchel said with a slight smile. "But in all seriousness, even in a 'support' role, your people will be at risk."
"Every calculation, every plan that we've produced so far has taken that risk into account," Errante said. He opened his briefcase and opened it to produce a slate-grey policy folder, still standard for military documents, which he passed to the general. "These files contain the details of plans for coordination between our support forces and your troops. We envision Laeralian warships escorting your naval force on the way to the landing site. In particular, we have some frigate and corvette designs ideal for anti-submarine duties and capable of providing missile fire support for allied ground troops. According to the report, one of the enemy's chief advantages will be their superior logistics. Shorter supply lines, more medical facilities, that sort of thing. We have medical ships which can be anchored offshore to tend to your wounded, and medical teams that can go to the front line alongside your soldiers. We are trying to do everything short of sending Laeralian soldiers to fight with you." He nodded to the folder. "The details are all in there, along with instructions for how to contact our defense ministry and National Security Council to discuss the fine points."
Tlanexchel leafed through the folder, pausing every once in a while to make an appreciative noise at various details in the folder. "This is an excellent plan for support, and it actually dovetails very well with my plan for our eventual move to bring the junta down. I will go over the full details of that plan with your defense ministry and National Security Council, of course. But it won't hurt to give you a brief overview."
Tlanexchel tapped on a Cala tablet, eventually producing a map of the Xiomeran mainland. He turned the tablet around so that Errante could see it, one of his fingers pointing at a very unique geographic feature labeled as quechtli, with the city of Zapotlán at its center. "Quechtli - the Neck of Huenya. The narrow bit of land that connects western Huenya, the non-Xiomeran-ethnic area of the island, with the Xiomeran eastern half. The easiest way to launch our fight against the junta will be to take control of the Neck and strangle them there. If we cut off eastern Xiomera from the rest of the country, we can isolate them and use western Huenya as our base to eventually defeat them once and for all."
"Of course, they will know this is the weak spot in their defenses, and will try to prepare for it. But it doesn't take many men to hold off an attacking force once you get control of such a spot. My goal is simple: for Zapotlán, and the Neck, to be our Thermopylae - except this time, the Spartans win. I suppose since we're technically the invaders, we'd be more like the Persians. But I've always seen the Spartans as the good guys in that battle. So....we'll let the junta forces be the Persians in my little scenario. Xochiuhue does make a good Xerxes, after all."
Bernard Errante raised an eyebrow again, and stroked his chin. "Well," he said. "That's...daring. I'm no military man myself, but I can see the risks involved. And the potential pay-off." He gazed down at the tablet Tlanexchel had handed him. "It makes keeping your forces well-supplied all the more important. There would be enemy forces to the east and the west, making the safest resupply be by sea. Which, I suppose, makes it all the more important that the attacking fleet is protected from enemies, whether they're on the sea, under it, or by air."
"Indeed. Securing the initial landing site and fending off junta forces until we can secure the city of Zapotlán will be very challenging - and crucial for success. But I will add that the enemy forces to the west are far less of a threat than the ones to the east. Many of the units in the western half of Huenya, by our assessment, are far less loyal to the junta. Many of their soldiers are from the same ethnic groups that Xochiuhue is repressing. Those that are Xiomeran in ethnicity, having been raised from the West, often have ties to people from those ethnic groups - family, friends, and so on. Their loyalty to the regime will be far shakier than units raised in the east, in the Xiomeran homeland. We expect that once we launch our attack, many of those units will break and begin supporting us. Part of our plan is also to begin raising supplemental levies from the Necatli, Itotemoc and Tepiltzin once we can secure a bridgehead and get weapons to them. Once that happens, it will be much easier for us to implement the plan. We just have to hold initially and fend off the junta." Tlanexchel grinned. "It's an ambitious plan, but not an impossible one."
Errante had been nodding throughout as Tlanexchel outlined his plan. It was daring, certainly, but General Tlanexchel's clear confidence as he explained made its ambitious goals seem entirely achievable. "What is your staff's intended timeline for the initial attack?" he asked.
"Not for another several weeks, at a minimum. We don't want to rush into this; we want to increase the pressure on Xochiuhue, and also to make sure we do have enough potential support inside Xiomera for all of this to work. In addition, we need to be sure our initial assault forces are fully prepared for the attack. The timing of this will be crucial. We don't want to give the junta forces too much time to entrench themselves, but if we attack prematurely, we could lose our one chance to succeed."
"That makes sense. Several weeks will also hopefully give time for discontent within Xiomera itself to simmer, and for the sanctions to take further effect." He nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you very much, General. You've given myself, and our respective military policy staffs, plenty to think about. Don't hesitate to reach out to me should the need arise." He had almost said "me or whoever the Defense Minister is a month from now," and he was grateful he hadn't slipped up.
"I shall, and thank you again for stopping by, as well as for the assistance your country is providing. I'm sure you may have heard it already, but it bears repeating - we're quite grateful for the support you've shown us," the general replied, standing up and offering his hand once more. "Once this is all over, we will be very happy to return the favor."