04-16-2023, 10:28 PM
April, 1934
On the Fleuran border - no, it was the Lauchenoiria-Kerlile border now - rows of soldiers stood staring at each other warily. To the south, the gathered men were clearly freaked out by the sight that awaited them. To the north, the gathered women stared at their would-be opponents with determination. In the middle, on the actual border, a man and a woman sat on horseback, conversing. No roads crossed the old Fleuran border; before the advent of Kerlile, the two Fleuras had consistently been at war. It was terrain still more suited to horseback.
“If your men cross our border,” the woman was saying, “we will defend ourselves. If you believe we have spent the last ten years sitting on our hands, you are mistaken. Our women are just as trained as your men. You may not believe me, but you ought to consider the evidence of your eyes.”
The man glanced at the line of Kerlian soldiers. Certainly, they appeared to have a well-trained, fully functional army consisting solely of women. His eyes told him such. Yet he found it rather difficult to believe. Sure, he had fought the Aelurians twelve years earlier, and they’d had women on the battlefield, but only their ruler, and she held back, shouting orders. At least, until they’d shot her dead. Then her little daughter freaked out and surrendered. These Kerlians, as they called themselves, did not look like they’d do the same.
“We do not wish to hurt you ladies-” he began, only for the woman to immediately hold up a hand to halt him.
“Do not insult us, Colonel,” she said sharply. “I will remind you that we have more claim to the land you stand upon than you have on ours; yet we choose not to initiate hostilities. We are content for this border to remain as it is. Contact Buttercity and withdraw your troops. You have fourteen days.”
She turned and spurred her horse on, riding back to the Kerlian lines. As she departed, he smirked at how familiar she looked. How convenient that she, of all people, had come. He turned, trudging back to his own lines. “Is the General in the village?” he asked one of his subordinates who answered in the affirmative. He rode on, ignoring the line of cars where the road abruptly ended, riding down it to the nearest village where the soldiers had set up an encampment.
“Where’s General Ibanez?” he asked some of the gathered soldiers, who pointed him towards the village hall where he spotted the General arguing with a group of men from the telecoms company.
“... this line working by now! We must establish real-time communication with Buttercity as soon as possible! I don’t trust these so-called Kerlians as… ah, colonel, how’s the border?” the General spotted him and left the relieved telecoms workers to sneak inside.
“You’ll never guess who they sent to negotiate.”
*
Martina Viallamando rode away from the Lauchenoirian border cursing the fools who thought invasion was the answer to every problem. This had not been her first experience with Lauchenoirian men who believed they had the right to impose their will on their neighbours. She had, after all, been born on Aeluria. She’d recognised the man who stood before her, though she hadn’t let on. He was one of the butchers who’d murdered Leimomi and betrayed Iekika.
He would not, however, be allowed another victory. Lauchenoirians could not be trusted; Kerlile would not cede one inch of territory. Kerlile would not negotiate with people who had proven themselves to be liars. If the Lauchenoirians wished to fight a war, they would get one; and they would lose.
“Ma’am, a letter for you,” one of the women back at their camp said as she rode up. The Kerlian roads ended much farther from the border than the Lauchenoirian ones. One day in the future, the father of the woman who would become Charissa Clarke would be shot dead around the same location Martina now stood, but that would be beyond Martina’s own lifetime. For now, she took the envelope, and retired into her tent to read.
The letter was in Aenian, the native language of Aelurians. A translator who was unfamiliar with the secret nuances of the language, would believe the letter was a discussion of religious worship. Not so; the letter was a call for help. Martina rubbed her temples. She wanted nothing more than to help the writer of the letter, but she could not. Kerlile had enough strength now to hold their own border; they did not have enough to launch their own invasion. Reading the letter, though, Martina hoped the Lauchenoirians would attack. She dearly wished for an excuse to shoot the man she’d spoken to earlier that day.
*
Iekika Anand paced back and forth in her cell. A mouse ran across the ground; but she did not care about the mice. They were far better company than the humans. She reached down, picking up the mouse, and saying a quick prayer for the wellbeing of nature to it, before placing it back down to continue on its way. The Lauchenoirians thought she was insane for speaking to the mice. She did not wish to explain her religion to the people trying to destroy it.
“Oi! Rat-girl! Food,” one of the guards sneered, dumping a tray of some kind of gruel into her cell. She ignored him. It had been twelve years of this; sometimes she barely remembered life before they had murdered her mother, betrayed her trust, and begun oppressing her people. She had been a fool to trust them. She would not make the same mistake twice.
“Hey, rat-girl, the Kerlians should have your letter by now!” the guard laughed.
Letter[i/]? Iekika thought. [i]Also, they're mice, not rats, idiot. She hadn’t sent any letter, certainly not to North Fleura, or whatever they called themselves these days. What was the guard talking about?
“Still ignoring me, rat-girl? You know, it was one of your own people who gave us the idea. Someone sick of rotting in here and smart enough to recognise an opportunity. But you probably like it here, huh, rat-girl? Anyway your little Kerlian friend should fall right into our trap soon enough, then you can have a little reunion!”
“What are you prattling on about?” she snapped eventually, turning to glare at her captor.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you don’t get much news here. Well, one of your late mother’s old pals, Martina Viawhatso, is now a problem to the north. Their little womens’ paradise is a threat to our security. But we can’t just invade them without cause, y’know? So, we’re gonna make a cause…” he trailed off, sneering.
“Viallamando,” she corrected. “You intend to invade North Fleura?”
“Once your friend attacks us to come rescue you, we’ll have our chance. And she thinks you’re in Melissa Province, so even if things go wrong she won’t find you, rat-girl. Once we have control of the so-called Kerlile, we’ll convince Zongongia to join us too, and our project will be complete.”
Iekika turned away again, to hide her face before her frustration showed on her face. Occasionally, they gave her newspapers, when the headlines benefitted them. The world believed the (relatively) new Lauchenoirian state was some beacon of democracy. This was the dark side they hid from the world. Voluntary union? Hardly.
They had promised mercy to the Aelurians and instead she and her fellow defenders of the island had rotted here for twelve long years. She didn’t blame whoever had turned on her; hope had long since faded. Her defiance was now motivated purely by spite. And an uncontrollable desire to stop Lauchenoirian expansion, for good. She didn’t know how, but she would find some way to stop this plan of theirs. Somehow.[/i]
On the Fleuran border - no, it was the Lauchenoiria-Kerlile border now - rows of soldiers stood staring at each other warily. To the south, the gathered men were clearly freaked out by the sight that awaited them. To the north, the gathered women stared at their would-be opponents with determination. In the middle, on the actual border, a man and a woman sat on horseback, conversing. No roads crossed the old Fleuran border; before the advent of Kerlile, the two Fleuras had consistently been at war. It was terrain still more suited to horseback.
“If your men cross our border,” the woman was saying, “we will defend ourselves. If you believe we have spent the last ten years sitting on our hands, you are mistaken. Our women are just as trained as your men. You may not believe me, but you ought to consider the evidence of your eyes.”
The man glanced at the line of Kerlian soldiers. Certainly, they appeared to have a well-trained, fully functional army consisting solely of women. His eyes told him such. Yet he found it rather difficult to believe. Sure, he had fought the Aelurians twelve years earlier, and they’d had women on the battlefield, but only their ruler, and she held back, shouting orders. At least, until they’d shot her dead. Then her little daughter freaked out and surrendered. These Kerlians, as they called themselves, did not look like they’d do the same.
“We do not wish to hurt you ladies-” he began, only for the woman to immediately hold up a hand to halt him.
“Do not insult us, Colonel,” she said sharply. “I will remind you that we have more claim to the land you stand upon than you have on ours; yet we choose not to initiate hostilities. We are content for this border to remain as it is. Contact Buttercity and withdraw your troops. You have fourteen days.”
She turned and spurred her horse on, riding back to the Kerlian lines. As she departed, he smirked at how familiar she looked. How convenient that she, of all people, had come. He turned, trudging back to his own lines. “Is the General in the village?” he asked one of his subordinates who answered in the affirmative. He rode on, ignoring the line of cars where the road abruptly ended, riding down it to the nearest village where the soldiers had set up an encampment.
“Where’s General Ibanez?” he asked some of the gathered soldiers, who pointed him towards the village hall where he spotted the General arguing with a group of men from the telecoms company.
“... this line working by now! We must establish real-time communication with Buttercity as soon as possible! I don’t trust these so-called Kerlians as… ah, colonel, how’s the border?” the General spotted him and left the relieved telecoms workers to sneak inside.
“You’ll never guess who they sent to negotiate.”
*
Martina Viallamando rode away from the Lauchenoirian border cursing the fools who thought invasion was the answer to every problem. This had not been her first experience with Lauchenoirian men who believed they had the right to impose their will on their neighbours. She had, after all, been born on Aeluria. She’d recognised the man who stood before her, though she hadn’t let on. He was one of the butchers who’d murdered Leimomi and betrayed Iekika.
He would not, however, be allowed another victory. Lauchenoirians could not be trusted; Kerlile would not cede one inch of territory. Kerlile would not negotiate with people who had proven themselves to be liars. If the Lauchenoirians wished to fight a war, they would get one; and they would lose.
“Ma’am, a letter for you,” one of the women back at their camp said as she rode up. The Kerlian roads ended much farther from the border than the Lauchenoirian ones. One day in the future, the father of the woman who would become Charissa Clarke would be shot dead around the same location Martina now stood, but that would be beyond Martina’s own lifetime. For now, she took the envelope, and retired into her tent to read.
The letter was in Aenian, the native language of Aelurians. A translator who was unfamiliar with the secret nuances of the language, would believe the letter was a discussion of religious worship. Not so; the letter was a call for help. Martina rubbed her temples. She wanted nothing more than to help the writer of the letter, but she could not. Kerlile had enough strength now to hold their own border; they did not have enough to launch their own invasion. Reading the letter, though, Martina hoped the Lauchenoirians would attack. She dearly wished for an excuse to shoot the man she’d spoken to earlier that day.
*
Iekika Anand paced back and forth in her cell. A mouse ran across the ground; but she did not care about the mice. They were far better company than the humans. She reached down, picking up the mouse, and saying a quick prayer for the wellbeing of nature to it, before placing it back down to continue on its way. The Lauchenoirians thought she was insane for speaking to the mice. She did not wish to explain her religion to the people trying to destroy it.
“Oi! Rat-girl! Food,” one of the guards sneered, dumping a tray of some kind of gruel into her cell. She ignored him. It had been twelve years of this; sometimes she barely remembered life before they had murdered her mother, betrayed her trust, and begun oppressing her people. She had been a fool to trust them. She would not make the same mistake twice.
“Hey, rat-girl, the Kerlians should have your letter by now!” the guard laughed.
Letter[i/]? Iekika thought. [i]Also, they're mice, not rats, idiot. She hadn’t sent any letter, certainly not to North Fleura, or whatever they called themselves these days. What was the guard talking about?
“Still ignoring me, rat-girl? You know, it was one of your own people who gave us the idea. Someone sick of rotting in here and smart enough to recognise an opportunity. But you probably like it here, huh, rat-girl? Anyway your little Kerlian friend should fall right into our trap soon enough, then you can have a little reunion!”
“What are you prattling on about?” she snapped eventually, turning to glare at her captor.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you don’t get much news here. Well, one of your late mother’s old pals, Martina Viawhatso, is now a problem to the north. Their little womens’ paradise is a threat to our security. But we can’t just invade them without cause, y’know? So, we’re gonna make a cause…” he trailed off, sneering.
“Viallamando,” she corrected. “You intend to invade North Fleura?”
“Once your friend attacks us to come rescue you, we’ll have our chance. And she thinks you’re in Melissa Province, so even if things go wrong she won’t find you, rat-girl. Once we have control of the so-called Kerlile, we’ll convince Zongongia to join us too, and our project will be complete.”
Iekika turned away again, to hide her face before her frustration showed on her face. Occasionally, they gave her newspapers, when the headlines benefitted them. The world believed the (relatively) new Lauchenoirian state was some beacon of democracy. This was the dark side they hid from the world. Voluntary union? Hardly.
They had promised mercy to the Aelurians and instead she and her fellow defenders of the island had rotted here for twelve long years. She didn’t blame whoever had turned on her; hope had long since faded. Her defiance was now motivated purely by spite. And an uncontrollable desire to stop Lauchenoirian expansion, for good. She didn’t know how, but she would find some way to stop this plan of theirs. Somehow.[/i]
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax