05-14-2022, 05:16 PM
Outside the town of Jōlceda, Northern Auria, driving southwest on Regional Highway 24
May 11th, 5:02 AM
The long convoy of large military transport trucks took up much of Private Sofija Eglite’s rear view mirror as she drove down the thin county road, vainly fighting off the growing symptoms of exhaustion. The dark sky of the early morning was only slightly starting to lighten, a comforting sign an hour into their long journey to Côte-Verte. Luckily, they were told they wouldn’t be fighting, so Eglite didn’t have to worry about accidentally falling asleep in a trench.
Eglite’s partner, Robert Petersons, was fast asleep in the passenger’s seat, snoring louder than a lawnmower running over broken glass. Eglite was half-tempted to push him out the window before she got a migraine, but wisely decided against it. She pondered their current assignment, holding a miniature conversation with herself to keep herself awake. The higher ups think we need “every distant soldier we can get” for these supply runs. You’d think they’d assign us to Côte-Verte, where we’re actually needed. I guess they need supplies more than anything. But still, do we really need this many soldiers for a supply convoy? They’re not going to attack us out here.
I mean, what are the odds?
She noted the rusted town sign on the side of the road that read “Lienav a Jōlceda. Popūlācōn: 5,286”. Wow, small town. Nice view though. I wonder if the people in “Nice town” are really as nice as the town name claims. She looked through the windows of the small businesses, furrowing her eyebrows when she didn’t see many people. Where is everyone? The few people walking on the street ducked inside storefronts and houses awhen the convoy passed them, covering their faces with whatever they had on hand. Are we really that frightening? We’re carrying supplies, for God’s sake.
Two loud bangs rang out in quick succession, causing Eglite to look around frantically. “Is someone shooting? Where a-”
The driver’s side window suddenly shattered, a quick moving projectile narrowly brushing past the Private’s head. It was so close, she could feel the bullet flying through her hair. She ducked down in the driver's seat, reaching for her sidearm…
And seeing Robert next to her, a bullet in his temple and blood streaming down his cheek.
Oh, metdi, no. She frantically unbuckled her seatbelt, stumbling out of her car with her sidearm in hand, heart racing. More gunshots rang out along the town's main street, echoing from either side of Eglite. Dieuv, I’m trapped. She contemplated hiding in the back of her truck, but decided against it after spotting a small alleyway between two businesses. Okay, that seems the safest. She took a deep breath. Three, two, one.
She bolted across the street, ducking behind a tree and a thin bench temporarily for cover, before making the last sprint into the alleyway. Oh, thank the angels. I might be free. She thought about heading back to help her company try to resist whomever was attacking them, but for some indescribable reason, she kept running away from the battlefield. Okay, I can either make it back to the nearest base and report this, or I could hide away somewhere, and be just another soldier deemed missing in action. What should I-”
She felt a heavy object hit the side of her head like a freight train. She tripped and fell forward, all of the wind knocked out of her in her unceremonious fall. She reached up for her head, realizing that she hadn’t been shot. [i]The hell?! Slowly, a hooded figure came into her blurred vision, a long bat or baton in their hand. “N- No… Please...” She weakly coughed, vainly trying to get up as the figure raised the bat.
She felt another hit on the other side of her head, and the world faded to black.
—
First Minister’s House, Lumiere
May 11th, 2022, 6:13 AM
“A week?! What do you mean, you can’t get supplies to them for a whole week?!”
Minister Sarah Berenstein’s angry shouts reverberated off of the tall ceiling of her living room, no doubt scaring the neighbors on either side of her luxurious townhome. She glared daggers at the shiny granite flooring, waiting for a reply from General Michelin on the other side of the phone.
“With the destruction of our Desmarais depot, our supply in western Auria is crippled. Fort Taska was the closest base with enough supplies to feed and equip the large force surrounding Auria for however long it’ll take to besiege Côte-Verte. They sent most of what they had on that convoy that was attacked an hour ago. Closer bases have some resources, but if we try to send supplies from there, we risk the trucks getting attacked again. A secure convoy from Fort Kalēna is our best bet, but will take a few days at least. It may be cutting it close, but the Garda and CSSC forces should be able to survive until then, if the circumstances remain as they are.”
Berenstein, while slightly less angry, was still incredulous. “And if they don’t? This is a fight we cannot afford to lose. I’ve trusted your judgment thus far. You insisted supply wouldn’t be an issue. And now you may have just locked us in a war of attrition when we already have plummeting morale and increased desertions. Get this situation under control, General, otherwise Andrew will offer his opinions. And he will be much less rational than I am.”
“...Of course.” The line disconnected abruptly, and Berenstein resisted the strong urge to chuck her mobile phone at the granite floor. "That man…" She forced herself to turn her anger into motivation, taking a mental step back to examine the situation. Andrew's gonna be pissed, and then we'll all have to deal with it. A thought crossed her mind. Wait. Andrew's gonna be pissed, and Michelin's in the crossfire. We can use this.
She unlocked her phone and dialed the number for the Royal Palace secure line, giving a slight sigh when a secretary picked up the phone. "This is First Minister Berenstein, I need to talk with the King."
The poor secretary seemed to be caught off guard, likely not expecting this kind of pressing call while working the night shift. "Uh… ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't put you through. His highness is sleeping at the moment, and-"
"Well that's not my problem, is it? This is an emergency, and I will not let a secretary endanger Aurian lives because she thinks His Highness needs his beauty sleep! Now, please wake him and put him on now, or I'll have to drive over there myself. And believe me, given the circumstances and my current mood, that would prove most unfortunate for you, me, and the poor drivers who are unlucky enough to be on the road this early in the morning. So, shall I get my keys?"
"No! No ma'am. I'll… I'll get him right away." The phone switched to a dial tone, and Berenstein gave herself a slight smile. No contest. Nothing can stop me from getting things done.
The dial tone faded, revealing the voice of a very drowsy and irritated King Andrew. "What… What in God's name do you want? This better be good. Do enlighten me, Miss Berenstein, as to why the hell you've called me at this obscene hour?"
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news sir, but this could not wait." Her tone was carefully crafted to sound genuine and concerned, hiding the cunning anger that was truly behind her statements. "I was just informed by General Michelin that the supposedly secure supply convoy heading for Côte-Verte was attacked as it passed through a town called Jōlceda. We don't have an exact casualty count yet, but we lost contact with all but two soldiers, a Corporal Gauthier and a Private Richards, who escaped the town and established contact. It's believed that the entire convoy of supplies was lost to insurgents of some kind."
The several seconds of silence that followed set Berenstein on edge. "Those damn 'freedom fighters'. They're all pathetic barbarians, who will never know true loyalty." The King spoke through gritted teeth. "Michelin assured us that there was no issue, that the convoy would be safe and "seal the fate of those rebels." That bastard is making us all pay for his mistakes."
"I just don't understand why he didn't play it safer. I mean, we have… had the resources to be a little more cautious. But he just… didn't." Berenstein included a short, deliberate pause. "But I don't know. Anyways, sorry, sir, for disturbing you. Michelin had just called me, and I wanted to inform you of the situation."
More silence emanated from the King's side of the call, and Berenstein's heart soared as she realized Cordonnier had picked up on the small fact she had weaved into her words. "He… he called you before me. That bastard called you, and didn't even bother to inform me." He cleared his throat, regaining some semblance of composure. "Don't get me wrong, madam Minister, you are a crucial member of this government. But I am his commanding officer, as it were. And he tried to hide this from me. It'd astounding." His tone grew cold. "Thank you for informing me of this. I'll keep you posted on the happenings of the near future."
The line went dead abruptly, and Berenstein's angry mood had turned to great elation. It's time to cut out the remains of the past, and start Auria anew. She scrolled through here contacts list before finding the page "Jonathan Gerand" and clicking the "call" button. Come on Jon, wake up. We've got a lot of work to do.
May 11th, 5:02 AM
The long convoy of large military transport trucks took up much of Private Sofija Eglite’s rear view mirror as she drove down the thin county road, vainly fighting off the growing symptoms of exhaustion. The dark sky of the early morning was only slightly starting to lighten, a comforting sign an hour into their long journey to Côte-Verte. Luckily, they were told they wouldn’t be fighting, so Eglite didn’t have to worry about accidentally falling asleep in a trench.
Eglite’s partner, Robert Petersons, was fast asleep in the passenger’s seat, snoring louder than a lawnmower running over broken glass. Eglite was half-tempted to push him out the window before she got a migraine, but wisely decided against it. She pondered their current assignment, holding a miniature conversation with herself to keep herself awake. The higher ups think we need “every distant soldier we can get” for these supply runs. You’d think they’d assign us to Côte-Verte, where we’re actually needed. I guess they need supplies more than anything. But still, do we really need this many soldiers for a supply convoy? They’re not going to attack us out here.
I mean, what are the odds?
She noted the rusted town sign on the side of the road that read “Lienav a Jōlceda. Popūlācōn: 5,286”. Wow, small town. Nice view though. I wonder if the people in “Nice town” are really as nice as the town name claims. She looked through the windows of the small businesses, furrowing her eyebrows when she didn’t see many people. Where is everyone? The few people walking on the street ducked inside storefronts and houses awhen the convoy passed them, covering their faces with whatever they had on hand. Are we really that frightening? We’re carrying supplies, for God’s sake.
Two loud bangs rang out in quick succession, causing Eglite to look around frantically. “Is someone shooting? Where a-”
The driver’s side window suddenly shattered, a quick moving projectile narrowly brushing past the Private’s head. It was so close, she could feel the bullet flying through her hair. She ducked down in the driver's seat, reaching for her sidearm…
And seeing Robert next to her, a bullet in his temple and blood streaming down his cheek.
Oh, metdi, no. She frantically unbuckled her seatbelt, stumbling out of her car with her sidearm in hand, heart racing. More gunshots rang out along the town's main street, echoing from either side of Eglite. Dieuv, I’m trapped. She contemplated hiding in the back of her truck, but decided against it after spotting a small alleyway between two businesses. Okay, that seems the safest. She took a deep breath. Three, two, one.
She bolted across the street, ducking behind a tree and a thin bench temporarily for cover, before making the last sprint into the alleyway. Oh, thank the angels. I might be free. She thought about heading back to help her company try to resist whomever was attacking them, but for some indescribable reason, she kept running away from the battlefield. Okay, I can either make it back to the nearest base and report this, or I could hide away somewhere, and be just another soldier deemed missing in action. What should I-”
She felt a heavy object hit the side of her head like a freight train. She tripped and fell forward, all of the wind knocked out of her in her unceremonious fall. She reached up for her head, realizing that she hadn’t been shot. [i]The hell?! Slowly, a hooded figure came into her blurred vision, a long bat or baton in their hand. “N- No… Please...” She weakly coughed, vainly trying to get up as the figure raised the bat.
She felt another hit on the other side of her head, and the world faded to black.
—
First Minister’s House, Lumiere
May 11th, 2022, 6:13 AM
“A week?! What do you mean, you can’t get supplies to them for a whole week?!”
Minister Sarah Berenstein’s angry shouts reverberated off of the tall ceiling of her living room, no doubt scaring the neighbors on either side of her luxurious townhome. She glared daggers at the shiny granite flooring, waiting for a reply from General Michelin on the other side of the phone.
“With the destruction of our Desmarais depot, our supply in western Auria is crippled. Fort Taska was the closest base with enough supplies to feed and equip the large force surrounding Auria for however long it’ll take to besiege Côte-Verte. They sent most of what they had on that convoy that was attacked an hour ago. Closer bases have some resources, but if we try to send supplies from there, we risk the trucks getting attacked again. A secure convoy from Fort Kalēna is our best bet, but will take a few days at least. It may be cutting it close, but the Garda and CSSC forces should be able to survive until then, if the circumstances remain as they are.”
Berenstein, while slightly less angry, was still incredulous. “And if they don’t? This is a fight we cannot afford to lose. I’ve trusted your judgment thus far. You insisted supply wouldn’t be an issue. And now you may have just locked us in a war of attrition when we already have plummeting morale and increased desertions. Get this situation under control, General, otherwise Andrew will offer his opinions. And he will be much less rational than I am.”
“...Of course.” The line disconnected abruptly, and Berenstein resisted the strong urge to chuck her mobile phone at the granite floor. "That man…" She forced herself to turn her anger into motivation, taking a mental step back to examine the situation. Andrew's gonna be pissed, and then we'll all have to deal with it. A thought crossed her mind. Wait. Andrew's gonna be pissed, and Michelin's in the crossfire. We can use this.
She unlocked her phone and dialed the number for the Royal Palace secure line, giving a slight sigh when a secretary picked up the phone. "This is First Minister Berenstein, I need to talk with the King."
The poor secretary seemed to be caught off guard, likely not expecting this kind of pressing call while working the night shift. "Uh… ma'am, I'm sorry, but I can't put you through. His highness is sleeping at the moment, and-"
"Well that's not my problem, is it? This is an emergency, and I will not let a secretary endanger Aurian lives because she thinks His Highness needs his beauty sleep! Now, please wake him and put him on now, or I'll have to drive over there myself. And believe me, given the circumstances and my current mood, that would prove most unfortunate for you, me, and the poor drivers who are unlucky enough to be on the road this early in the morning. So, shall I get my keys?"
"No! No ma'am. I'll… I'll get him right away." The phone switched to a dial tone, and Berenstein gave herself a slight smile. No contest. Nothing can stop me from getting things done.
The dial tone faded, revealing the voice of a very drowsy and irritated King Andrew. "What… What in God's name do you want? This better be good. Do enlighten me, Miss Berenstein, as to why the hell you've called me at this obscene hour?"
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news sir, but this could not wait." Her tone was carefully crafted to sound genuine and concerned, hiding the cunning anger that was truly behind her statements. "I was just informed by General Michelin that the supposedly secure supply convoy heading for Côte-Verte was attacked as it passed through a town called Jōlceda. We don't have an exact casualty count yet, but we lost contact with all but two soldiers, a Corporal Gauthier and a Private Richards, who escaped the town and established contact. It's believed that the entire convoy of supplies was lost to insurgents of some kind."
The several seconds of silence that followed set Berenstein on edge. "Those damn 'freedom fighters'. They're all pathetic barbarians, who will never know true loyalty." The King spoke through gritted teeth. "Michelin assured us that there was no issue, that the convoy would be safe and "seal the fate of those rebels." That bastard is making us all pay for his mistakes."
"I just don't understand why he didn't play it safer. I mean, we have… had the resources to be a little more cautious. But he just… didn't." Berenstein included a short, deliberate pause. "But I don't know. Anyways, sorry, sir, for disturbing you. Michelin had just called me, and I wanted to inform you of the situation."
More silence emanated from the King's side of the call, and Berenstein's heart soared as she realized Cordonnier had picked up on the small fact she had weaved into her words. "He… he called you before me. That bastard called you, and didn't even bother to inform me." He cleared his throat, regaining some semblance of composure. "Don't get me wrong, madam Minister, you are a crucial member of this government. But I am his commanding officer, as it were. And he tried to hide this from me. It'd astounding." His tone grew cold. "Thank you for informing me of this. I'll keep you posted on the happenings of the near future."
The line went dead abruptly, and Berenstein's angry mood had turned to great elation. It's time to cut out the remains of the past, and start Auria anew. She scrolled through here contacts list before finding the page "Jonathan Gerand" and clicking the "call" button. Come on Jon, wake up. We've got a lot of work to do.
<t></t>