A Red House of Cards

2nd September, 2023
Ny’Mkborg, East Atlalandr

(This rp like others are written with Cowlass)

“Do you need something to drink, Mister President?” Gørn heard someone asking, though it took him a moment for him to process it. Just nodding his head.

“J-Just glass of water darling.” He said, giving a weak pained smile as he reached into his bag, pulling out medecine. Nodding his head towards the nurse as she gave him a glass of water. Taking his pills into his mouth and taking a sip of the glass to swallow it down.

“Just call for me whenever you need anything. Alright?” He once more heard the nurse say, only nodding his head towards her in response. Barely noticing her walking away.

The East Atlalandian president leaned his head against the train’s window, feeling its cold surface against his forehead. He looked longley towards his side, even though it has been over six years, he still misses her. “Happy anniversary, Annette.” He said with a weak chuckle imagining his wife leaning against his shoulder. It has been over ten years since she died, and not a day went by that he didn’t think about it. He knows for certainty that she’d be there to give tips on talking with Brewmasters, he remembered the days before the civil war on how Annette would read about Akuan cultures. Specifically about Mkænian culture. He remembered seeing how angry she was when the Våldist dictatorship decided to burn records and archives about Mkænian culture, all in a paranoid action to get rid of ‘counterrevolutionaries’. Made further worse by Våld having promoted state atheism, forcing Akuanists to stop following their own religion. To this day he does not understand why so many among his old party defended such policies. Nor why the Einarists in parliament want the repeat of the dictatorship.

“Mister President, we have arrived at the destination. Do you want me to carry your bag, sir?” The nurse asked, giving a concerned look towards him. Ørn took a moment to answer, taking a moment to look over the nurse. The nurse was a light gray skinned tiefling with dark eyes, with horns of that of a goat. With a necklace that had the symbol of the Sun next to a half moon. With her looking to be around her 20s.

“It is good that you’re not afraid of showing your faith, kid.” Gørn said as he stood up, keeping a hand on his cane. He had a smile on his face though one that while not in pain showed the tiredness behind his eyes. “If you could be a darling and grab my bag it would be wonderful.”

The nurse just nodded her head as she took hold of a bag putting the strap over her right shoulder to carry it better. “I remember my parents talking about how it was before you took over, on how the Atlalandian Religious Uprisings had to be done.” She said in a nervous tone as she followed the aging president.

“Oh? Was your family in the Darwalac?” Gørn asked curiously as he walked towards the train’s exist.

“W-Well, um…” The nurse started to stutter, not sure if she really should talk with the president about her parent’s involvement in a religious group that used to violently oppose the government.

Gørn chuckled at her nervousness before letting out a series of harsh coughing fits. “I-It is quite alright, kid. There’s a reason why I wanted to have peace with them, Våld didn’t give you much option.” He said in a weak tone as the two exited the train, in which upon immediately leaving it there were dozens of cameras taking pictures of them. Reporters and journalists being held back by security guards.

An old looking kemonomimi holding onto a cane, was there to greet his fellow old man. Giving a half-body bow of respect, having to be held up by a strangely intimidating fellow. Pulling him upwards, and giving a pat on his back. “Greetings, President. I hope you don’t mind my assistant here, they were rather insistent on having a few assistants with me.” He gave a warm smile, “I’m Brewmaster Ny’Zekkial.”

The President gave the kemonomimi a bow though having to be helped in keeping himself up as he did so with the nurse ensuring to have an arm around his own. “It is quite alright I have my own assistent.” He said, giving a warm smile on his own, though a clearly weaker one. “It is a pleasure to meet you brewmaster, I thought it would be wise to give your Republic a visit before the election campaign starts.” Ørn let out a chuckle at the notion of needing an election campaign, though one broken by another series of pain coughing.

“Ah, yes elections. I have heard the federal Government has those sometimes.” Brewmaster gave a small laugh before coughing himself, the assistant padding him on the back. “Mr. Gørn, Brewmaster Ny’Zekkial, lets make our way to the car.” The other kemonomimi spoke with an aura of authority.

“Lead the way.” Gørn gestured with his free hand towards the black SUV waiting for them, one that had some small level of armor on it as all high government offical’s cars had.

They get into the seat, the ‘assistant’ of the brewmaster being the last one to enter into the SUV. Inside of the SUV, there was two more kemonomimi with the same disposition as the assistant. “Like I said, a few assistants.” The Brewmaster gave a chuckle, “I hope you can understand why.”

The President sat next to the Brewmaster while his nurse sat next to the rather intimidating assistants, with the nurse trying not to focus on said assistant scars. It went quite against her perception of Akuanists. Gørn shook his head in amusement. “I do, don’t you worry.”

The SUV pulled into a small rural forest. There was no parking here, only a footpath. It was a shrine, an old one to an old spirit of the woods and mountains. Vengeful spirit that wouldn’t think twice about smiting a foolish introlooper which did not pay its respects. Yet, the shrine seems peaceful and quiet. Birds chirping away, and the little woodland creatures roaming the woods. One could assume industrial revolution or war has never happened here and yet, it only took a keen eye to see bullet holes and burn marks on the woods. In particular, an old rope in the fashion of a noose is still hanging at the entrance. The government would claim that it was used for religious extremists but the people who tend to the shrine know the truth.

The truth being a commander who was ordered to burn the shrine to the ground, was found next day naked and filled with stones jammed into his mouth, tree branches piercing through their body. No Ny’Sænuri clan nor foot soldier has ever claimed to kill the commander, not under pain of torture or under the influence of the drink. It was simple to the Akuanists of the land. The spirit of the woods and mountains will not tolerate such imprudence in its home.

The president took notice of the old noose but decided to not say anything as his nurse helped him out of the car. Taking a small moment to get a good footing, as they walked towards the shrine entrance. Though stopping for a moment to let out another series of coughing fits. “Sorry, just a small cough.” He said bowing his head towards the brewmaster as an apology.

Brewmaster gave a pat on the old president’s back. “That’s alright, I been there and still am.” He remarked, one of his assistants handing a reusable water bottle to the president. “Take a drink, it helps you. If you want, I can ask for a wheelchair to be brought but you find the trail to be quite rough.”

The president weakly grabbed the water bottle taking a sip from it before giving it to his nurse. “I’ll be alright, just give me a small moment.” He said with a weak smile on his face as he slowly followed after his fellow old man.

“There is a bench near us, just after the entrance. Do you believe you can make it?” The brewmaster waves away the assistant taking out a wheelchair in the back of the SUV. Speaking briefly in Nys’tat’en towards the man. Another assistant took a moment to check the entrance to the shrine just in case.

“I think so, let’s rest there when we get there.” He gave a nod towards the Brewmaster as he took another sip from the water bottle.

The old people, and their assistants made their way past the gates. The Brewmaster takes a moment to bow before the entrance, having to be helped back up by a scary assistant he ever-so often traveled with. Then taking a seat at a bench crafted out of fine wood. “There is enough for three if you wish child.” The brewmaster spoke to the nurse, being helped down by his assistant.

The nurse just nodded as she helped the president down into the bench, sitting down next to him. “I used to have a far easier time walking this path.” Gørn said in a joking tone as he let out a tired sigh. “How the times have changed.”

The brewmaster started to have a coughing fit himself, two assistants jogging over to him. “Spirits be kind to me, so have I. Didn’t need ‘assistants’ and nurses back then. No offense to my child.” He accepts a reusable water bottle from the assistant, drinking it down after taking a few pills.

“As much as time hasn’t been kind to us, I do genuinely think it has been kinder towards the people.” Gørn said a weak smile. “Young folk have an actual future to look to now, one they hadn’t had for a long while.” He lets out a weak chuckle. “Well I guess the reforms were over 20 years ago, but still.”

“Young folk don’t have to hide in the woods or the mountains, having to hold your breath everytime a car passes the Drek pass.” He takes a drink of his water, “Don’t have to worry about seeing your family again.” He gives a warm smile, “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“I only wish I could have done it earlier.” Gørn said, letting out a sigh as he shook his head. “But I’m glad I was able to do it, you all deserve the right to practice your religion. No more secret police to hinder your practice.” For a moment almost a small bit of youth came back to the president as he spoke as he straightened his back, though he was quick to slouch over again.

“There is an old story, about a boy and a tree. The boy planted a sapling, watering it and caring for it. As the tree grew old, and its trunks grew stout the boy failed in love with a girl. Yet he cared for the tree regardless. Everyday, the boy thought about planting another sapling, yet never did he have to work for his family and when he became a man. He had to provide for his wife and children. Yet, the thought never stops coming in his mind about planting more trees in the forest. When he was old, children cared for him. He asked the tree he planted all so long ago for forgiveness that he didn’t plant more trees so the tree wouldn’t be lonely. Yet, the tree waivered spoke to him in the tongue of the spirits, then have your children plant them, I can wait.” The old man gave a smile, “I always like thinking about that old story.”

“It at least has a good message.” The president nodded a long, his smile being a bit warmer now. “Thank you, oh before I forget. I had a gift for you.” He gestured to his nurse to give him his bag, so he could look through it to find the gift for the Brewmaster.

“Oh a gift? It’s not even my birthday.” The elder kemonomimi gives a chuckle.

Gørn chuckled alongside the Brewmaster as he took out a small book. One with the title of ‘Early Mkænian Forest Spirits’, written in Nys’tat’en. “Found this when I looked through my wife’s old belongings. Should have given it earlier but well, my wife’s death was a hard thing to deal with.” He said with a sigh. “My wife studied Mkænian culture a lot when she was young, even learned Nys’tat’en. Though from what I’ve heard she had issues with pronunciation.” He let out another weak chuckle as he gave the book to the Brewmaster. “I think my wife would have liked you to have it, a lot of these books were erased by Våld.”

The old man held the book closely to him, his fingers feeling across the edges and the title. His fingers flipping it open, checking a few pages. Quickly closing it, handing it to his assistant. Speaking something in Nys’tat’en when he tried to put it into a bag. Requiring the assistant to place it in a plastic bag that would cover it properly. Trying to hold back a few tears, but a few of the salt droplets crawled down his face. “That… Might be one of the best gifts my people have received in a longtime…”

The president placed a hand on the Brewmaster’s shoulder, patting it. “I’m glad I could give it back to the people who deserve it.” He said with a warm tone. “Shall we continue on into the shrine?”

“Just… Give me a moment, that was… Quite a gift, not even the Grand Shrine of Lilith held it in its vast libraries. We won’t make that mistake again.” He said in a shaken tone, simply looking at the forest, at all the small squirrels roaming the grounds.

“We can wait here for as long as you need to, my legs certainly won’t be complaining.” Ørn said in a joking tone, keeping a hand on the brewmaster’s shoulder as the two sat there in silence.

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5th September, 2023
MIP Meeting, Ny’Mkborg, East Atlalandr

“We cannot be hasty.” Ny’Zekkial said in a tired tone as he stood up from his chair having to place a hand on the chair to keep himself standing. “If we are to be successful in granting the independence of Mkæniszna then we must establish the necessary trust and promise from government officials. At the current moment we have our biggest supporter within the president himself, through him the prime minister will feel compelled to allow it.”

Ny’Isnzki shook his head, “We can pray to the spirits for their blessing of peace. However we must be prepared for conflict, the president doesn’t rule alone and the imperialists will not allow us to go.” Ny’Sænuri was fit kemonomimi, tall by kemonomimi standards and strong frame. His face was stereotypical for a member of the Ny’Sænuri, cold and emotionless. Where Akuanists were warm and loving the Ny’Sænuri was cold and uncaring. Ready to fight within moments in defense of the spirits and their estranged kin.

“Nor can we try to restart an uprising that had limited success.” Ny’Zekkial replied trying to raise his voice but was limited by his own old age. “Look, when the moment for its need be rises I will call upon Ny’Akide Brigade to safeguard our independence, to ensure our people is heard. But until then stay and train in Kaldrbuth.”

“We gather strength everyday, when you call for us. We will be there though we should be here already, just in case.” The strong man crossed his arms. “I saw the president, he is frail and will soon pass. What are to-do if he dies before independence is secured?”

The Brewmaster let out a sigh as he sat down rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was not the same young man he used to be. One who could stand on a stage to motivate his fellow Akuanists to protest against an authoritarian government. One who stood proud when negotiations came to give his people autonomy. He looked up at the Ny’Sænuri general, then towards the rest of the party who was waiting in anticipation. “We will ask for a referendum after the presidential election.” He said in a tired voice, not wanting this discussion to go on for several hours. “Once President Gerjikdal is re-elected I will personally request an audience with him in which I will require his support for the referendum. If we ask before the election then his approval might cost him the vote, we cannot risk Erik Tårnet, of all people, in winning the election. A presidency led by the National Bloc would be a disaster for us.”

“In that case, if National Bloc wins the election. I would like to motion, we don’t ask for additional autonomy nor independence. We start moving our forces in the country right away before nationalists can send their forces to beat us down. If we ask, then we end up at a disadvantage and losing the element of surprise. We need a plan if and when it goes wrong.’ The clan leader spoke with a clear aura of authority. “If he does get reelected, I would like to be there for it.”

“I remind that legally the Ny’Akide is under the command of the Kaldrbuthian Armed Forces. Any movement of troops into Mkæniszna will be seen as a military intervention into the region by Kaldrbuth.” Ny’Zekkial immediately re-asserted his authority, not wanting this military commander challenge his leadership in the party. “If you can get the Kaldrbuthian Queen to approve and support us then I will support the motion.”

“It will happen now or later, the only difference is when do we lose our advantage. We both saw the president as not in any condition to fight for us. As for the queen, my brother’s roommate is the servant to her husband, if you wish this to be done quietly.” The strong kemonomimi stared at the aging brewmaster, he respects him of course but history has shown what happens to Akuanists when they trust in others and he won’t let it happen again.

“All that I am urging is patience. We must be careful to increase the opposition against us. For the current moment the president and prime minister would support our right for independence, with polls showing growing sympathy and understanding towards our movement among the Atlalandian public. If we were to invite the Ny’Akide into Mkæniszna right now we only anger that public, who more likely turn towards the nationalists and Einarists. If worse was to come and Tårn gets the presidency then we will immediately declare our right for independence.” The Brewmaster could feel his shoulders relax as he heard other members voicing their approval of it. “Actions we do prior to the election will affect the sympathy we have earned.”

“We don’t announce it, we can do such things quietly. To be frank, how good is sympathy when the other side won’t care about using tanks to end a protest, the public doesn’t care about us only what we give them. Where was the public out crying during their genocidal campaign to end us? It was the president who ended that, not the people feeling as if there was an injustice towards us, it was a side-effect of a minor benefit to them liberalizing. The current president has some power, yes, but can he trust his successors when he dies? What’s to stop them from turning around if he grants our requests.” The clan leader took a sip of his water, “Nothing, absolutely nothing other than us and our will.”

“Times have passed, Ny’Isnzki. The people now have access to information and knowledge about us. Before that they had nothing, the Einarists used to have complete control on the media. The people were fed nothing but propaganda.” The Brewmaster took a sip from his water, letting out a cough before continuing on. “I am taking your ideas into mind, it is wise to prepare. All I’m saying is to avoid provoking this, we need support both internally and externally, pushing away those who can help us legitimize ourselves to not just the Atlalandian public, but internationally as well.”

“It is as you say, then it is your order. We will wait but let us pray to the spirits we will not be too late.” The kemonomimi reached over on the table, lifting up the water jar to pour into brewmaster’s glass. Keeping it full for the old man.

“Then I shall pray that the spirits be kind and help us in our ways in gathering allies.” The Brewmaster said in a simple nod as he took a sip from the water. He would also be praying for having more party meetings without the Akuan Socialists being with them during it.

10th September, 2023
Presidential Palace, Veridal, East Atlalandr

Gørn took a sip from his glass of water as he sat in his office waiting for the prime minister to arrive. Taking his moment to look at the various photos in it. Some of it was of him and old wife Annette, many of said pictures were them in their youth being part of the original Socialist Republican Party. Young ambitious, in the belief of a better tomorrow. He didn’t think it was possible at first, to establish a republic in Atlalandr. Though Annette was always an optimist, they were even among the 150 MPs who voted in favor of the establishment of the Republic. He remembered quite fondly that day, they went home to celebrate with a bottle of wine. He remembered the private speech his wife made that day, though one she was quite drunk during said speech, proclaiming the vote an beginning for a bright future. He remembered believing so too… Unfortunately they were quite wrong.

He looked at a picture of his wife as a medic for the Republican Army, having a bright smile despite it all. Despite all the slaughter that was the civil war. Couldn’t have a peaceful republic, greater powers had to involve itself in their affairs. He remembered being enraged at the Royalists who rose up in the west, conservatives who refused to let the monarchy be abolished. His wife however was not like him at all. He remembered the stories he heard from his wife’s colleagues of her treating the POWs kindly and how she intervened when others tried to kill or torture them out of revenge. Oh how he wished he was like his wife in that. But he wasn’t, far from it actually. He remembered those days too well. How he would beat POWs, shoot them out of anger. More so when it was Norgsveltians that they had captured. It disgusted him now of course, how much he let himself be controlled by rage. He remembered justifying to himself that he was ridding the world of imperialists… How can any man look at the eyes of a terrified 19 year old boy, bleeding out and proclaim them as imperialist?

He let out a sigh before he moved to look at another picture, this time of him and his wife joining the Atlalandian Einarist Party. Taken back in 1973, three years after Veri Våld was elected. He looked oh so proud in the picture, wearing the party’s arm band and the party. His wife was smiling in the picture, but he knew very well that she genuinely didn’t want to join. He remembered them having arguments at their 25th anniversary about Våld, Annette being adamant about how Våld was turning this country for the worse. He remembered having swallowed up all the propaganda about how great their country was, and how they needed to crush ‘counterrevolutionaries’. How his wife kept staying by his side he has no idea, but he was forever grateful for it. After a while, well, the veil was lifted. One which wouldn’t happen if his wife didn’t lift it for him. Showing him pictures of secret police burning archives and historical records about Mkænian and Soportisk cultures. Of the brutality enacted by security forces. It made him question Våld’s war against religion, and with it almost everything he thought Våld stood for.

“I was such a fool…” He said to himself looking down at the desk. He would forever be thankful that he had such an amazing wife. By no means was he a man to believe in religious superstition, yet he genuinely started to believe there must be someone that ensured his fate was tied with his wife. His thoughts about his past were however interrupted when he heard a knock on his door. He took a pair of some strong painkillers and swallowed it with a sip of his glass of water. “Come in, come in!”

A blonde woman around her late 40s in a dark gray suit walked in giving a respectful nod towards her president. “President Gerjikdal, thank you for having me today.” She had hands behind her back as she walked closer.

“Oh no worries, Comrade Vakrela! It is always a pleasure to know I can do some real work.” He said with a warm almost grandfatherly smile as he took hold of the kettle to pour themselves two cups of coffee. His hand shook for a moment before stabilizing it with the use of both his hands. Putting down the kettle he then clapped his hands together letting out a small chuckle. “I forgot about the cheese and cookies! Give me a small moment.” He stood up from his chair and leaned himself on a walking frame as he went to the other end of the room to a closet where he had kept some snacks.

“Mister President that really is not needed-” The prime minister said, speaking up being a bit concerned about the president’s health. Almost about to stand up to go get it for him.

"Nonsense, lass! A bit of snacks with some coffee is always needed when talking about the dreary topic of foreign policy!” He joked before letting out a small laughter as he got the cheese and cookies on a plate. Before walking over back to the desk.

The prime minister let out a sigh and took a small cookie from the plate taking a bite out of it. “Well I guess the most important aspect would be the matter about our current ice cold relations with the Kaldrbuthian government.” She said in a serious yet also hesitancy in it.

“Not surprising, your government is partially responsible for the terrorist attack at Ishindale.” Ørn said not really showing any specific emotion as he took a sip from his coffee cup.

“Well that is not entirely correct, it was a rogue general who-” Sanna started saying before being interrupted by the president.

“Who is meant to be under your control. It is a job of the civilian government to keep the military under check is it not?” He raised an eyebrow at the prime minister.

“Well I mean yes, but-”

“No excuses. Your government’s lack of control of our generals has led to the deaths of hundreds in our neighbors.” He took another sip from his coffee, before standing up and relying on the walking frame. “Hmmm, I should go get some cream.”

“Look I’m not here to make excuses, but you know just as well as me that the military is hardly neutral in our politics.” The prime minister spoke up, taking a sip of her coffee cup, being a little bit annoyed at the president’s attitude. “Our military is filled with Einarists who want to go back to the one party state. To abandon the democracy you helped to rebuild.”

“Perhaps so, but I still expect a better response from you. You should put a major focus on ensuring the relations calm down. We must ensure that a second Cold War doesn’t start up again.” He walked back to the desk with a carton of cream, placing it gently on the desk again.

“That I would agree with, though that might become quite a bit harder.” She said with a sigh as she pushed a document towards the aging president. Which he grabbed slowly, having to readjust his glasses to get a better read. “In recent days the negotiations between the Federation and UCCS have been completely frozen. With even consultants between the two being closed. This is not to mention other diplomatic spats between the two powers.”

Ørn let out a sigh reading through the document, it being different reports and rumors about the two powers diplomatic relations. Including accusations of the Federation’s support to militant separatists within UCCS’s territory. “That is… going to be hard to deal with. Both are currently our largest investors and trade partners if I remember correctly?” Ørn asked, looking up from the document and towards the prime minister.

“Quite so, the Federation has also been quite important in terms of economic aid. While the UCCS has been vital in terms of military aid and equipment. Only reason we are able to keep such a large military is because of the UCCS.” Sanna finished her cookie before taking a sip of her cup.

“Hopefully we don’t have to pick sides…” Ørn said adding a bit of cream to his coffee so it wasn’t as dark anymore.

“Hopefully not. In matters that are at least in a more positive direction.” Sanna took out another document which the president once more would have to read through. “We have increased our trade output this year, and the suggestion for an Concordian Conference to lower militarisation on the continent is being openly discussed within many countries.”

The president grinned happily at that with him clapping his hands together. “That is indeed wonderful to hear! If we win through on that then maybe there may still be hope.” He said, taking a sip from his cup before holding it up. “For peace on Concord!”

The prime minister let out a small chuckle as she herself also lifted up her cup. She wasn’t as optimistic as the president but it couldn’t hurt to have hope. “For peace on Concord.”

The Chantilly; Twenty-First Pepin Street; C.D.; Federation of the Southern Coast

Akuan Socialism, something most considered to be an oxymoron. Given how many people think Akuanists are already by default. Even stranger is how other Akuanists treat them which is something that could only be described as they all were diseased monsters. They didn’t quite trust Brewmasters, viewing them as too reserved and even Borean Akuanists wouldn’t consider them kin given the inheritable violence Akuan Socialists. They are not like the Ny’Sænuri with their code of conduct or honor. Their only ‘code’ is how hard the Federation pulls on their leash. Where Akuanists were accepting of newcomers and shared their community openly. Akuan socialists would sooner beat the foreigner to death with a brick. Where traditional and progressive Akuanists open themselves to the committee, allowing all to come and join them in their shrines. The Akuan socialists would slam the door closed for anyone coming from a non-Akuan ethnic group, assuming they’re being polite about it.

Yet Akuan socialists had one thing going for them above the Ny’Sænuri and that was cold pragmatism. Yes they are more akin to national syndicalists than any other theo-socialist, but they could be reasoned with. Despite their bastardization of the faith, they could be molded into a fine dagger to cut and bleed imperialists. They could work with others, provided they get their little Akuan ethnicities state. Frankly for a low price from a military budget wise, you equip them, train them and they will grow in number with fanatic pacing given the right environment. Where the Ny’Sænuri require years, if not a life-time of training and moral coding, a handful of Akuan socialists in the right environment can raise a small army, and teach the lessons they learned from the Federation without too much trouble.

They weren’t the favorite tool of ‘liberation movements’ in the arsenal, given how quickly they will butcher people in what they see as their ‘rightful’ borders. Yet for the madam Federal Prime Minister, it was the perfect weapon to continue the growing proxy conflicts between Corporate States of Concord and the Federation. Not to mention how Mkæniszna is covered in mountains and the remoteness of it would make it hard to dig out a training camp there.

Jeanne’s wired phone rang, she already knew who was on the other side and was rather annoyed by her assistance on calling her rather than through the established channels. She raised the phone up to her ear, “Bonjour-hei Mrs. Ny’Mkæn.” She wanted to roll her eyes at the name, but the socialist leader renamed herself after the country and demanded to be called by it.

“Madam Pierre, I always wondered what your voice sounded like when it’s not from a screen.” Ny’Mkæn gave a cheerful tone, “I wanted to speak to you about when we can finally enter our homeland and take it back from the imperialists.”

“When the East Atlandr President dies, then you are authorized to enter into your occupied country.” Pierre stressed East Atlandr, spirits know she will get into enough hot water with Norgsveldet as is by supporting them. Even more so given the recent fortune events happening in CSC.

“Yes, the red imperialists first. Other only when provoked or our siblings vote for it.” Pierre could hear Ny’Mkæn tone of upsetness at being held back. “Our hosts have been watching us heavily, though at least they gave us a decent temporary base here, despite the leaky pipes.”

“That was expected and discussed, but I understand if you and your troops are getting stir crazy.” Pierre kept her ‘normal’ tone.

“Well, we’re stacked like tuna and a little too close even by our standards.” Ny’Mkæn gave a chilling chuckle. “At least we have plenty of space to drill and train, can’t let my troops get weak. Though our ‘kind’ hosts refuse to let us practice with live rounds. So all that additional ammo you’ve been sending has just been stockpiling.”

Pierre thinks about it for a moment, then speaks up. “I will have a talk with the hosts, see if they’re willing to allow firearm exercise. Have you made contact with the Ny’Sænuri clan leader and the Brewmaster in charge?”

“Yes, the brewmaster looks just like the president in all due honesty. He most certainly made the president pass, and probably after the liberation war however after that. Well his health is uncertain.” Ny’Mkæn gave a matter of fact tone.

“No harm will come to the Brewmaster, understood?” The FPM gave an authoritative tone.

“Understood sister. The Ny’Sænuri clan leader, is… Well he’s a bitch to be honest, too much talk about honor and not enough about strategy to remove the settlers from our lands.” Ny’Mkæn gave a chuckle, “I seen what our hosts have been equipping them with, it is pretty good but still dated. Someone of them are handy-me-downs unlike our fantastic equipment, which again thank you for your generous gifts and training sister.”

“How are the drones?” Pierre read over some papers.

“Quite well honestly, we have been putting our pilots through their paces in training and using rocks as payloads. Our kind hosts supplied us with some civilian models for us to remold and keep up our practice.” Ny’Mkæn gave a prideful tone, “They can put a thread through a needle’s eye with their eyes closed.”

“Good, we’re interested to see how they operate in the field.” Drones have been a small personal project of the Federation military, while legally they can’t create their own military aircraft. Drones however, didn’t exist back in that kind of scale when that damnable treaty was signed. With the recent plethora of civilian drones and the growing hobby, the Federation took a keen interest in how to adapt it into a more militaristic weapon. Norgsveldet of course, had their own interest in it as well, despite it originating from a treaty they helped create. Though they focused more on strict military drones rather than being able to adapt civilian drones into tools of war.

“I bet you are sister.” Ny’Mkæn gave another chuckle, “Gotta say, I can’t wait to drop explosives onto those bastard heads.”

Pierre spoke up again, “How is the tourist?”

“He’s doing well enough, still a grouchy bastard but he’s just as ready as we are to move in for the reclamation of our homeland.”

“He is your contact, anything you say to him, you say to me.” Pierre didn’t want another call with the woman, there is an order to such things.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted a personal call between me and you. I have nothing else Madam Pierre.” Jeanne could feel Ny’Mkæn roll her eyes. “For a free Mkæniszna, a socialist tomorrow and an Akuan future.”

“For a free Mkæniszna, a socialist tomorrow and an Akuan future.” Jeanne repeated.

15th September, 2023
Presidential Palace, Veridal, East Atlalandr

[CW: Violence and death]

Gørn let out a yawn, he had decided to stay up later than usual to write a few letters. Nothing of grave importance, rather it was simply a reply to kids that had sent him drawings and letters for this year’s Hel’s Day. Though East Atlalandr was not a religious country, there were still some who celebrated the holiday. Even if mostly for cultural reasons. He couldn’t help but smile as he wrote the letters, even if an occasional harsh cough came up. After closing one envelope, he was prepared to write up another letter. Though his hand was extremely shaky as he started to write on the paper with his fountain pen. Even when trying to steady his hand with his other he couldn’t. With a deep sigh he placed the pen down. Though his hand still shook.

‘Perhaps I should get some rest, I can finish writing this all tomorrow.’ He thought to himself as his hand grabbed some pain killers, swallowing it all after taking a sip of water. Not that it has been that effective for him recently. He’ll have to go to the hospital soon, he’d hate to admit it but his doctor was likely right that he should retire soon. Once he won the presidential election, and found a suitable impartial successor he will step down. ‘Annette always wanted to go on a vacation to the Federation…’ He thought to himself once again as he stood up from his chair and leaned on his walking frame, walking towards the door. All the while thinking about what he would do once he retires. He had spent over 26 years as a leader, not including having spent over 30 years as a politician in the AEP, and almost a decade as an MP for the SRP. Before serving as a soldier for two years when the civil war started. As he exited the office he walked down the hall towards his bedroom. If it was one thing he regretted was that he and Annette never adopted a kid once they found out she couldn’t bear any. Perhaps it was why he felt the need to reply to those letters, well he always had tomorrow. First thing in the morning actually, he would immediately start writing back to them! With a wide smile he reached out to the door handle to his bedroom, before being interrupted with a harsh coughing fit. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief, trying to muffle it.

But the coughing just continued and continued and continued. Much to the concern of the guards at the end of the hall. “Mister President? Do you need help?” One of them spoke up walking towards him.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a small cou-” He started to say before he started to cough again, hunching over as tried to muffle his cough again. Trying his best to keep himself steady on the walking frame, but his legs were becoming weaker and weaker. Eventually collapsing on the floor pulling the walking frame with him. Coughing in pain so much that when the guard ran towards him, yelling towards their other guard to get a doctor. He could barely hear it. “I’ll be fine… I-I just need some rest.”

Kaldrbuthian-East Atlalandian Border, Autonomous Republic of Mkæniszna

“Dragons take me, the stupid truck is stuck in the mud.” Birgitte stepped more on the gas, the wheels on the truck only getting dug deeper into the mud.

“Stop doing that, you’re only going to dig us deeper into it.” Her sergeant Roald spoke with a tired sigh. He accidentally spills one glass of wine on the Côtois ambassador and now he’s stuck on border garrison duty. “Call the outpost, let them know we’re stuck and we will be late to meet with the rest of the convoy. Hugo and I will start pushing from behind the truck and then you slowly let on the gas.”

“Yes sir.” Birgitte reached over to the radio, picking up the mic. The two men stepped out of the truck into the stormy weather. “Come on, why does it always have to rain down here. Why can’t it not be sunshine and rainbows for once.” Hugos, the squad’s self appointed joker of the group, pulled down his helmet.

“Because if that was true, then we won’t love our job. Now quit your whine and help me push.” Olaf, the sergeant replied sharply, having to yell over the thunderous rain. “Alright! One! Two! Three! Push!” The two soldiers started to push forward the car, “Birgitte are you even pushing on the gas?!” Olaf yelled out, looking over the side of the truck as he was pressing his shoulder against the tailgate.

He noticed the wheels weren’t turning. “For fuck sake Birgitte! Step on the gas!” He yelled out towards the driver. After a few more pushes against the truck, and still no response from the driver. Olaf slammed his fist against the back of the truck and walked forward towards the driver side of the truck. “Lass, if you don’t get this truck moving!”

Each step his boots sinked into the mud. “Are you listening private?!” His voice filled with annoyance of having to be out in this storm, and that his private not listening to his very simple instructions. The truck’s window isn’t even rolled down for goodness sake. He aggressively opened the driver’s side door. “Birgitte for the love of al-”

The old sergeant’s eyes widened at the sight. He wasn’t gone for longer than a few moments. The youngest member of their team, barely old enough to write their name in his eyes and only just been constipated. Her throat was slit, her blood splattering across the dash and down her uniform. “Fuck!” Was the only words he could manage to say, he reached for his sidearm, “Hugos! Get the fuck over here!”

“What the fuck!” Hugos yelled out for himself, drawing out his own side arm. As his eyes look over the woman’s corpse. “W-what the fuck!” The joker of the squad repeated himself as if it was the only words he could say. He thought being on border duty in Mkæniszna would be a safe place, on any side of the border it was Akuanists folks besides the Kaldrbuthian border guards.

“Get your shit together, I try to radi-” The sergeant’s words were cut off as he cursed again, noticing the radio in the truck was destroyed. “Shit! Fuck!” He swore again and again, grabbing hold of Olaf’s shoulder. “It is a thirty minute walk to the outpost, we will make it there, grab your rifle. They have to know the Kaldrbuthians are marching on us.”

Hugos snapped out of his shock, grabbing his rifle from the truck. His heart was pounding, his eyes widened looking around at his surroundings. The sergeant grabbed his own rifle, taking a moment to close the eyelids of Birgitte. Her look of pure terror went away, as it was covered.

“Hugos! Let’s get a move on!” He made sure to grab the shoulder of his soldier. “I will lead, keep your hand on my shoulder, it’s darker than Tielfing’s ass out here!” He turned the safety of his rifle off. “Keep your rifle ready, those zealots are still around!”

They started hiking towards the outpost, rifles ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Due to the rain, they made poor time and took them almost an hour of stumbling around the dark on the road. Being greeted with the worst form of lights to see at the outpost.

The fires of the outpost couldn’t be stopped by the flood of rain pouring down onto it. A brief moment of relaxation was stolen away by the flames across the outpost. The two survivors took a moment to just watch the fires rage across the place they called home for their stay at the border.

Hugos spoke up, “We’re fucked. So completely fucked.” He almost dropped his rifle.

“Get your shit together Hugos, they’re might be survivors.” Olaf raises his rifle, stepping toward the outpost, his eyes scanning around. Hugos following suit, his rifle swaying around and his heart speeding back up.

Entering through the gate, they saw bodies perfectly line up in row in the courtyard. The high ranking soldiers are on the top row, and lower ranks filling out the bottom. Notably, very few of the bodies had bullet holes, so many of them had stab wounds or holes that didn’t match bullet marks in them.

“W-what the fuck?” Hugos gave a terrified tone. He couldn’t stop looking at the bodies, “I-I don’t think the Kaldrbuthians left survivors.” His hands were shaking, seeing the petrified eyes on the bodies. “H-how the hell could this happen!”

Olaf took a note of the radio placed squarely above the outpost commander’s head. “Radio, we will call up command and call whatever the fuck this is in.” He kept his eyes scanning the burning wreckage of the buildings. “Hugos, cover me.”

Hugos didn’t at first hear his squad leader, but after a quick shaking by Olaf he snapped out of it. “S-shit sorry, I’m on you.” He raised his rifle again, looking across the wreckage and the entrance.

Olaf picked up the radio, it was already set to the frequency for command. “At least the bastards were kind enough to set it correctly.” He muttered under his breath. He flicked it on, radioing in, “Command, this is Outpost Eclipse, Sergeant Tvedt speaking.”

“This is Command, good to hear you Eclipse. How many survivors are there?” The voice on the other end was completely professional.

“H-how the fuck, no what the fuck you mean by survivors?! Is their a fucking invasion going on?!” Olaf yelled into the radio.

“We are being attacked by Unknown forces Eclipse, at this time we do not believe it is a Kaldrbuthian invasion. Standby.” The voice on the radio was perfectly calm.

“Standby? I’m looking at a dozen corpses here and that’s not including my rifleperson! How in the seven realms am I supposed to standby!” Olaf yelled again, starting to panic in the light of everything.

"Reinforcements are in route, ETA 45 minutes hold on, the calvary is coming….” There was a long pause. Olaf could hear a swear word coming from the radio, “Elipse, dig in reinforcement will arrive but it is unknown how long it will take over.”

Olaf gave a stressed look towards Hugos, he stopped swaying his rifle around like an idiot after hearing the yelling. “Roger that Command, Eclipse out.”

“They’re coming Hugos, we just got to hold tight.”

1 Like

25th September, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

The late president’s casket was covered by the dark red flag of what was the nation at which Atlalandian Republicanism stood tall, with dozens of the white roses laid on top of it as the casket sank to the ground below. Despite this being watched by millions, large crowds of people standing outside the mausoleum. People that came from different ethnic, cultural, religious and species backgrounds. The streets were silent as it seemed like the entire city of Veridal was there to witness the event, even if only a few were to see Gerjikdal’s actual burial. Not a normal one, despite the man’s wishes to be buried next to his wife. Away from the public eye. Instead he was buried in the Mausoleum of Atlalandian Republican Heros, next to Veri Våld. Many would have found it ironic, if melancholy was not the thing that covered the air. As his casket hit the ground below, soon a large stone slab was pushed over it. The stone was of dark slate that was carved locally. On the slab was written in golden letters: “Here lay Gørn Gerjikdal, President of the Social Republic of Atlalandr (01/09/2001-16/09/2023). Bringer of democracy, bringer of hope. He will forever be missed.”

The few who were allowed into the Mausoleum bowed their heads respectfully. It had every single MP, every foreign attendee and every personal friend the late president had left, bowed their heads. Not even East Atlalandr’s most polarizing of figures, Erik Tårnet, was going to not treat what the country viewed as its greatest hero with disrespect. After a few minutes of silence, a crowd of people quietly started to leave the room. Slowly exiting out the doors of the Mausoleum, with the crowd splitting into two going one different ends of it to allow Mrs. Vakrela to take center stage. She let out a quiet sigh as she looked towards the large crowds of people waiting for her speech. She had a solemn look as she spoke.

“Countrymen, this day we say goodbye to the greatest patriot we as a nation could ever ask for. Today we say goodbye to a figure that all of Concord will miss. Today we say goodbye to a man who acted on his own accord to bring back that democracy we had lost. His reforms, everything he has built shall never be forgotten. Mr. Gerjikdal looked over our country, like a father looking over his child. He was like a grandfather to many of us, one who gave wise advice and a witty joke. He was a soldier for the republic, fought for everything he believed in. Socialism, in republicanism. That Atlalandr would be fully free from the reigns of crowns and capitalism. Yet despite that he chose peaceful co-existence over violence, detente rather than harsher rhetoric. He chose cooperation, above power. We owe him the largest of thanks. As such I can only say one thing. Goodbye, Mr. President. no one can really replace you.” Vakrele said, bowing her head towards the direction of the Mausoleum before taking a few steps back, gesturing to Ny’Zekkial to step towards the small platform. Every major figure would be able to say their last goodbyes to the late president before things could go back to normal.

The old kemonomimi man stepped to the mic, having to be assisted by a nearby man as he stood up. “Mr. Gerjikdal, a name every Duarist, Akuanist, and Ulvriktruar knows by heart. A humble man, who came from a life of conflict through love, learned to not only tolerate but accept others. It was his actions, and his actions alone that brought an end to the religious persecution of those who believe in higher powers. He did that, as an atheist, a lesson I can only hope we can all take to heart. That no matter how different we all are, no matter the culture, the religion and who we are as a ethnicity, that we all have a place within Atlalandr. Mr. Gerjikdal gave us Akuanists and our Duarists friends a region of our own in this republic. A place where we can contribute to society in our own special way, in our own way through our own culture. May the next leaders of Atlalandr take this to heart, that the way to end violence is not with midnight raids in the den of night, but through understanding and allowing freedom to those who are different. Love, instead of hatred. Acceptance, not bigotry will allow all peoples of Atlalandr to grow.” He paused for a moment, letting people in front of him clap before he spoke again.

“Thanks to Mr. Gerjikdal, and I do mean only Gerjikdal the genocide against my people, the Mkænians was put to a end. It wa-” The old brewmaster was shouted down by a rather unfriendly voice from behind him.

“Lies! Lies! Lies!” Erik Tårnet yelled behind him, walking closer to confront the brewmaster glaring down at him standing a few heads taller than the old kemonomimi before two guards started to drag him away. “How dare you weaponize his death to tell lies about a genocide that never happened!? You do not get to use the death of our hero for your political stunt, old man!”

“Cut the damn mic now.” Vakrele said to a nearby guard who quickly called up to the ones in charge of the audio.

The old man turned around to face Erik. “You can take a drive down to our autonomous region, and see the marks of it yourself. One simply has to read the census data themself to see the decline in our population. How can you say it never happened, when you were alive during it? We both were alive during the horrificness of that era. More importantly, why do you want to steal away his greatest act?” Ny’Zekkial prepared this speech long before the old president was dead, and it was accept that this would inevitably happen. “Unless one is scared to admit one’s own sins of course.”

“What’s taking them so damn long to cut the gods damn mic!?” Vakrele said, gritting her teeth at the guard.

“You have a traitor’s tongue!” Erik continued to yell as the two guards tried to pull him back. “While you separatists seek independence with the backing of our traitorous government, you not only want to break away from the country he protected and reformed! You also want to use this day of mourning to push your agenda! Against our people! You should be ashamed!”

“You say against our people, does that include or exclude us?” Ny’Zekkial began to speak again until the mic was finally cut off.

Erik was finally pulled away from rest, with many of the National Bloc’s MPs being escorted away as well, with the prime minister having called in extra guards to do so. Though by this point it was already too late as the crowd yelled out towards the Brewmaster. Telling him to be ashamed for his actions. Though not all. Some were trying their best to calm their fellow citizens, Vakrela saw there were attempts. Yet some were met fists rather than words, and before she knew it there was a large degree of fighting with the crowds. Huge majority dispersed, but there was enough that the prime minister knew it would be difficult for the guards and police to stop it all.

‘As direct answer as any’ Ny’Zekkial thought to himself, escorted by people he could trust rather than by the government. He held a small hope, a candle that would be inspired by Gerjikdal and his actions, only to witness it being smoldered out by a vicious crowd of hatred who yet learned their dead president’s lessons. Spirits may only weep for the future, for the Mkænians will not be the victims again.

_ _

30th September, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

“Election night is here, according to the most recent development the SRP presidential candidate, Daniel Draskt, is having a two percent lead over that National Bloc’s candidate, Erik Tårnet. In a campaign speech in front of his supporters he has attacked the Mr. Draskt’s campaign slogan of ‘Keep his legacy safe’. Accusing the SRP for weaponizing national tragedy for political gain.”

Vakrela had to let out a deep sigh as she heard that, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had warned Draskt’s campaign managers against using that slogan, but they used it anyway. Now the National Bloc has turned it against them in miraculous speed. She was even surprised they were able to hold elections with the amount of rioting and protests staged by the National Bloc not so many days ago.

“You don’t seem that confident about your party’s chances.” Sanna’s wife said behind her, with her wrapping her arms around her. Giving a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I guess I’m not.” Sanna said, placing her own hands on her wife’s, squeezing it. “I fear what might come if Tårnet wins.”

“Well you’re still the prime minister in the end, you’re the one with actual power.” Her wife said placing her head on top of Sanna’s. Having to lean a bit more down being a head taller than her. “So he only upgraded from being a pain in the ass with an important job to a pain in the ass with a very important job.”

Sanna let out a giggle at that as she rolled her eyes. It was far more complicated than that but she was happy to have her wife to go make her laugh. “Sweetie, my dear Olivia. He is going to go from an demagogue within the Assembly to a demagogue in one of our highest offices. Which means he becomes a demagogue I’m forced to hear far more off.” She pulled one of Olivia’s hands up to her lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

“Well he isn’t leading, that’s a good sign right?” Olivia said, climbing over the sofa to sit next to her dear wife.

“They haven’t finished counting Veridal. His main support is right here, where anti-separatist sentiments run high.” Sanna said with another sigh, wrapping an arm around Olivia’s waist pulling her close. “It’s effectively a guaranteed win for him at this rate.”

“Well, I hope you give him hel during meetings from me.” Olivia said, giving Sanna a kiss on the cheek before she purred against her. Her black wolf tail lay against her wife’s side. As the two watched the TV, seeing the votes being counted, eventually as each hour went by, Sanna felt her wife fall asleep. Watching it alone before falling asleep as well, closing her eyes as the election ends.

48,91% to Daniel Draskt (SRP)

51,89% to Erik Tårnet (NB)

Over 71% of Veridal’s voters had voted for Tårnet and his anti-seperatist platform.

1st October, 2023
Unknown Location; Autonomous Republic of Mkæniszna

Mountain ranges of Mkæniszna at first glance looked silent, devoid of sound or movement but within the caves. It was alive, tunnels that started to be dug untold ages ago are well in use. Bring in assets and personnel from Kaldrbuth to Atlalandr all under the cover of tons of rocks above them. Ventilation, electricity wiring, cooling and heating in the main route. The side passages only need ventilation and electricity. Of course there are drawbacks to the movement, hallway space is limited meaning anything too big like vehicles or such is not feasible.

It was only supposed to be for transportation, and link to a few buildings in the nearby town. Main building, the center for the coming militant operations for liberations. For the sake of everyone else involved, the socialists were to be the tip of the spear so to speak. One for their special forces nature, having been prepared for just this sort of war and second… Kaldrbuth government wanting to be rid of them to put it bluntly. It made them uncomfortable to have Akuan socialists around in their borders even if it was in their Mkæniszna region.

The old soap factory made for good cover, for shipments coming from and to it on heavy trucks. Daily travels, coming and going of people disguised as employees. No soap of course is actually being made, but sounds of machinery can still be heard. Chemicals being imported, fabricated into explosives. Machinery turning children toys and consumer electronics into weapons of war.

Deep within the factory, near where the manager office that once held a dastardly elven gentleman from the capital. Now holds the self-proclaimed future liberator of Mkæniszna, colonel Ny’Mkæn a name not doubly inspired by the mad woman that rule Nystatiszna so many decades ago. She remodeled her temporary office, in a strict fashion. Akuan charms and wards lining the walls, alongside her maps of the region located on the table.

“Colonel!” A short, even by kemonomimi standards, gave a salute as they slipped through the office’s door. Shutting it behind them. “We have additional word about the patrols moving in. They’re mostly depending on helicopters and drones, but our spies heard word about them moving in more trucks.”

The colonel stood up, folding her arms behind her. “Have they returned to any of the outposts or checkpoints?” Looking down at the map in front of her.

“No colonel, they haven’t returned to a single one of them. I suspect they don’t want to risk another attack like before and they are operating as the region is occupied despite their words stating otherwise. They have sent patrols, but they have been tentative about going too deep.” The man placed his arms behind his back, puffing out his chest.

“They’re preparing for a proper invasion, but they need the president’s approval for it to send down the tanks. How are the police forces?” Colonel spoke with a flat tone, looking over at three main highways on the map.

“Police are too scared to leave their buildings and cars. All we needed was a few dead cops and they’re hiding for their lives.” The soldier gave a smirk, taking their seat as directed by the colonel’s hand gesture.

“They’re used to dealing with our weaker kin, pacifist weaklings.” Ny’Mkæn gave a sneer at the mention of it. “They still believe it’s terrorist from Kaldrbuth, not the liberators killing their oppressors. They will pay for their mistake, and their transgressions.” She prepared to give another, long winded rant raising her hand to prepare to slam it against the desk.

“Cut the rant, we got business to discuss.” A very, very tired looking kemonomimi wearing a tracksuit spoke up away in a corner. “Alright, we’re waiting for the presidential election results. Some insiders let me know the vote beforehand.” The spoke in a fluent, unaccented Mkænian Nys’tat’en. “Have your people prepare on the highways. Landmines, rockslides, and all the other things we planned for.”

Ny’Mkæn gave a roll of their eyes. “Yes yes, keep to the training and plan but at least we can have a bit of fun while we are here. No shooting down aircraft and drones until tanks arrive.” She gave a bored, annoyed tone as she spoke. “I organized meetings between myself and some local leaders. Brewmasters, mayors and village elders. Ones I already spoke too are less than happy about us socialists moving in and would like to speak to other players in our table. Few of them however.” The colonel gave a smile, “They are more than interested in us taking over, plenty of young people too. Got them training, won’t be ready for the first round of fireworks.”

“You will win over them eventually, focus on the youth and the working class as planned. Petite bourgeoisie, capital owners and the rest of their ilk won’t ever accept it. Have you made contact with the unions?” The tracksuit kemonomimi looked over towards the young officer, giving them a motion to get out and their services were not required. The young officer left the room just as quickly, shutting the door behind them.

“Yes yes, I have.” Another eye roll from Ny’Mkæn. Who sat back down in their chair. “Unions of the mining organizations around here are ready for a change and would side with us but we have to kill the older leadership first. The oldies are all from the imperialists up north, and the unions they do actually have here are in name only. I sent a team to go string them up, not sure where to place the bodies. I was thinking the Einarist fuckers headquarters, right outside. Let them see their future.”

“Not the worst place for them, but you need to win the population over. Just make them disappear and dump the bodies in the woods.” The tracksuit man opened up a small suitcase. “How many bodies are needed?”

“Including their family, fifteen.” The colonel adjusted their peaked cap. “Any problems with killing the children?”

“Why would I? Just make sure no one knows it’s you. Keep it quiet.” The suit track wearing kemonomimi removed a phone from the suitcase and closed it. “No witness either, so do it at night. Only them, keep the body low and only those in the game.”

“Oh you people and ‘keeping it in the game.’ Games are supposed to be a bit fun, you know? Why don’t you just call it keeping to the guidelines or the rules. At least then it sounds more accurate then.” The colonel looked over towards the phone. “Who are you calling?”

“Getting confirmation on the new president and pushing start on the game.” Tracksuit man gave a smirk, standing up. “Actually hide the bodies, don’t leave them out to rot again. You’re giving too much information. Burn them if you can, as much damage to their corpses as possible.”

“Okay dad, okay dad. I actually put the trash bags in the can this time.”

_ _

Veridal, East Atlalandr

Erik almost had to put his hands over his ears with how thunderously loud the applause and yells was in the room. Yet despite the pain it brought to his ear drums he had a broad smile and a hearty chuckle. With his friends clapping his back. Yelling: “You fucking did it!” Before yelling out a loud scream. He could hear the entire room yelling for a speech. Over and over again. He gave a look towards the young dark haired woman sitting next to him, giving her a smirk.

“What do you say, Mrs. Våld? Shall I give a speech about our glorious Einarist victory?” He placed an arm around her shoulders. “Your grandmother would be very proud.”

“Put that arm away If you wanna keep it.” She glared at him, placing her hand on his wrist gripping it so tightly that he let out a yelp. “You have charisma in charming the crowds, but that’s your only use, Mr. Tårnet.” She said before grabbing a wine glass taking a sip from it.

“Capturing the attention of the crowds yet no women, what are we gonna do with you mate?” One of Erik’s friends joked, placing an arm around his shoulder before pulling the new president up from his seat.

“Oh shut up you.” Erik grumbled as he jokingly pushed his friend away before walking up the platform. Giving the crowds a charming smile as he grabbed a mic, behind him there was a dark red banner with a black sword and hammer symbol on it. “Comrades! Patriots! The people have spoken!” He was met with loud applause and yells of approval that he had to signal to his supporters to calm down. “Come on, you all wanted a speech, can’t speak over me if you want it.” He taunted earning a chuckle from the crowd before he continued on. “As said, the people have spoken! They do not want a president that uses the great Gerjikdal’s death as a campaign slogan, that uses his death as an excuse to give away our lands to separatists!” Yells of encouragement, as his supporters voiced their hatred of separatists. “The government, the SRP and their parliamentary allies time and again sell our nation out to foreign powers and separatists. All in the name of a political favor here and there. They talk about their economic successes, while we get humiliated abroad. The Kaldrbuthian and their bitch of a queen as their armies placed on our border, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike! And the prime minister urges calm… Isn’t that ridiculous?”

He earned himself a loud yell of approval, yelling “Yes!”.

“Yet Mrs. Vakrela does it anyway. As the blood thirsty traitors in the west prepare, our army is poorly maintained. Despite our enemies working together, the establishment has refused to request EA membership. Saying such a thing could: ‘Cause unnecessary tensions’. What absolute nonsense. While my powers will inherently be limited by the constitution, I will make it clear. This election is the first clear example of one thing, the people want change! They want a secure nation, a proud nation! I will work tirelessly together with my great friend Mrs. Våld, to ensure that the National Bloc represents the values of the Einarist Revolution! We say no to separatists! We say no to imperialists! We will defend the republic, we will defend socialism. No amount of government censorship will keep us down!” He held a fist up into the sky, yelling East Atlalandr’s national slogan:

“For Folket! For Nasjon! For Sosialisme!”
(For the People! For the Nation! For Socialism!)

Elisa Våld couldn’t help but smile seeing how easy her ally captured the crowds with his speech. With them yelling together with their new president. She found it humorous that she found the perfect person able to use populism to their advantage. Proclaiming a defense of populist democracy when in reality she and him was going to bring back the True Democracy her grandmother was making. Where a strong leadership was at hand, yet acted with the best interest of workers and the nation in mind.

Though this was only the beginning, a lot still needed to be done.

(To clarify, Norgs wanted this. Not Cowlass, this is all on him. Don’t blame me, blame him. I wanted to write about something happy for once. <3 - Cowlass)

(CW: Speciesm and implied violence)

15:35, 8th October, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

He could feel the sneers as he walked down the street, keeping his head low and hoodie over his head. All in an attempt to hide black wolf ears, though not it mattered much as one could still see the tail. Not much way for the young man to hide that. Everywhere he looked around he couldn’t help but just see several folks giving him suspicious looks. Some more hostile ones whispering something to their friend, before giving a glare towards him from simply looking their way. Unconsciously he started walking faster.

“I bet he is one of those separatists.”

He heard from an old lady talking to her husband and shaking her head in disappointment. He couldn’t help but sigh at the accusation. He has never been a supporter of the Mkænian Independence Party, he wasn’t even ethnically Mkænian! He was born and raised in Veridal, and he was proud to be so. Or was. Veridal used to be a beacon for the SRP’s ideals, or Gerjikdal’s ideals. Now the beautiful city was the center for bitter authoritarians and Tårnet’s nationalistic ideals.

“Somebody should teach him a lesson.”

He heard the voice clearly, but he didn’t look back to check who it was. He immediately started to hurry off from there, he did not want to stay longer outside than he needed to. He had to get home, as such going as fast as possible. Turning the corner and towards the apartment complex, an old one from the 50s. Looking over his shoulder in which he let out a sigh of relief as he saw no one had followed him. Walking up the stairs to the second floor, walking a bit further before stopping at his apartment. Smile on his lips pulling his hoodie back as he opened the door seeing his wife whistling to herself in the kitchen cooking something for the both of them. “What are we having for dinner sweetie?” He closed the door behind him as his shoulders relaxed, finally being able to be a place safe.

“Oh, I’m making some curry… Did you lock the door?” The woman quickly turned her head around to face her husband. Her hand resting on her stomach, rubbing her yet-to-be born child. “I’m sorry if it is dark in here, but I wanted to keep the curtains closed and stuff…” Her voice is trying to sound upbeat despite the dire situation brewing.

“Oh sorry!” He quickly turned around as he turned the lock and put the lock chain as well. Recent addition to feel more secure after the riots. They had spent part of the little savings they had on it. “It’s alright, I’m just glad to finally be back home to my amazing sweet wife.” He walked up to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Rubbing her stomach as he gently purred against her.

She gave a warm pur back, rubbing her head against his. “How was work sweetie?” She wrapped her arms around him to give a short hug back before remembering she was cooking. Having to turn around to face the cooking pot, though her husband refuses to let go of his hug. “Did you have any trouble getting back?”

“It was… Alright. Though I couldn’t help feeling very alone. Only Ny’Janra sat together with me at lunch time. The other workers were completely ignoring us, and refused to work with us when we were on the same floor. Or at least until they got ordered to by the boss.” He let out a sigh hugging her tighter, his voice was weak as he spoke. “I, well. No one harassed me at least, but… I was afraid I was being followed. I kept being glared and sneered at.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “That must have been rough at work, Ny’Kelie and I had similar issues at work.” Then perking up, “At least when it rains, there is a rainbow after and that rainbow is this curry. It’s your favorite, I even picked up some fish on my way home.” She gave a smile, turning her head partly to look somewhat at her husband’s face.

“Ayay!” He had a wide and warm smile clapping his hands together as he said that loudly. Giving her a kiss on the back of her neck. “I’ll go set the table then.” He finally let go of her waist as he reached into the cabinet picking up two bowls, which he had to stand on his toes to get it. Putting them down on the table, then getting the utensils from the drawer.

“Figured that would brighten your mood darling.” She gave a bright smile, finishing up making the curry. Bring the ‘kemonomimi sized’ steel pot and placing it onto the middle of the table. Having to wobble her way to it, then slowly walk back to grab the serving spoon. “Ny’Kelie told me her sister and family was moving to over to West Atlalandr, so I suppose that couple less bowls to fill at the next cookout.”

“I do not blame them. Just hope they are able to cross the border with how militarized it has gotten.” He sat down in his chair waiting for his wife to sit down as well before digging in. “Been thinking that it would be wise for us to just take our car and go to Mkæniszna. At least now there is still the possibility to do so.”

She sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Are you sure that is wise? I mean… I saw on TV that people are going missing there and all those checkpoints are lined up.”

“…Do we even have a choice?” He looked down at her, speaking in a solemn tone. “I want our dear girl to be raised in a society that would accept her, one where she and we can be who we are. I’m afraid we at the very least can’t stay in Veridal.” He let out a small sigh wanting to continue on with his thoughts before shaking his head. “Let’s eat before the food becomes cold, hmm?” He gave her a wide smile.

“If you think so honey, but maybe we can go to West Atatlandr and from there Norgsveldet…” She quietly spoke in a hush tone. “Can you pour my bowl for me?” She gestures towards the large pot in the middle of the table, with the serving spoon already in it. “My legs have been hurting lately.”

He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek as he stood up pouring curry into both of their bowls, placing them down again. “I fear it might be too difficult going west, we could go into Tilmeria? Border crossing is quite relaxed with them. At least until we able to get enough to then go to Norgsveldet.” He spoke feeling a bit more optimistic, he didn’t want to leave his home behind but he doesn’t want to risk staying here until the situation becomes even worse.

“Is Tilmeria any better? It feels like the whole world is turning against us.” She starts to rub her stomach. “Maybe we should move to an Akuan country, like Ma Moku or Aikthudr’zhur. I don’t think we can go to Vakrestrender but maybe we could even go to Federation to live in Miqo’te republic or something.” She plants another kiss onto his cheek, taking a small bite of her curry. “We can apply for the Akuan migrant thingie, um, that thing the Akuan Development Bank has to help us pay to move. We can go through Tilmeria and into the USSC.”

“Tilmeria is well. Not the best, their secularist laws are very strict… But it is the easiest border crossing after Nisserige. Finding somewhere to move to and then go to a better place with help from the ADB sounds like our best bet.” He took a bite from his own curry in which he let out a loud “mhmm!” as he ate it. He always loved his wife’s cooking but even more so when it’s his favorite variant of curry. Immediately switching his mood as his black wolf tail swayed side to side happily.

She gave a warm giggle, taking in the delight of her husband’s pleasure in the dish. Her own gray wolf’s tail swishing around. “I love you honey.” She spoke with an upbeat tone, taking a spoonful of her food and eating it. Giving a low warm pur.

“I love you too, and your amazing cooking.” He gave her a long kiss on the cheek before returning to eating from his curry. Having to calm himself from eating too quickly. Almost completely forgetting about their situation, rather letting himself focus just on this moment.

She gave another warm giggle, feeling warm and protected in their own home. Something is being stolen from them every minute in the past days but now. They’re home, they’re safe and they will have full bellies. Her being more full than others. Taking another spoonful of curry into her mouth.

“So how have you-” He started saying before he heard sounds of several people outside, yelling about something but the group must be outside on the ground below. “That’s strange. There aren’t many people around here.” He couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

“Y-you locked the door right?” His wife started to get concerned, standing up from her chair. “S-should we hide in the bathroom?” Her eyes wide as dinner plates, already thinking of the worst case situation. “D-don’t open the door anyway, j-just let um… Turn the lights off.”

“The door is locked, I’ll look through the window to see If I see anything.” He stood up from his chair walking quietly towards the window, slowly lifting up the curtain a little bit so he could see outside without making it too obvious. He couldn’t see exactly what was happening below as the walkway was in the way, but he could see hints of people gathering on the ground below as more people walked towards the apartment complex.

“D-don’t look for too long and be careful p-please.” His wife started talking towards the bathroom. “We should call the police honey o-or someone responsible.” She started to hug her stomach in a protective stance. At least at some way, trying to protect their unborn daughter.

He saw some of the men walking towards the direction where they had their car, with spray cans and baseball bats in their hands. With the men wearing dark sweaters with hoodies over them, some choosing to wear red masks that covered their jaws. He was happy that at the very least Våld’s legacy on East Atlalandr also meant very strict gun laws, who knows how it would be if it was relaxed. “Go to the bathroom, sweetie.” He said as he took out his phone typing up the number to the police, still keeping an eye out in case the group started walking up the stairs to their floor.

“Come to the bathroom with me please honey, I don’t want to lock the door without you next to me please.” She gave a begging, fearful tone. Standing in the archway of the bathroom. Looking towards her husband. “Please.”

He couldn’t help but winch the moment he heard the car alarm go off, soon followed up with clear sounds of their car windows being smashed open. As the group of men started to slam their bats against their car, with folks cheering them on instead of telling them to stop. He hurriedly walked towards the bathroom as his wife hugged him the moment he entered, closing the door behind him. He called up the police, his hand shaking though he tried to keep himself calm for his wife. Waiting for them to answer. “Please. Please answer.” He muttered to himself, trying to not let fear get to him.

With the bathroom door lock, she wrapped her hands around her husband. Giving a fearful, but still warm pur. “D-did you call the emergency line?” She looked up at her husband. “They’re suppose to always answer the emergency line.”

“I-I did I-” Before he could speak any further the call was picked up.

“Republican Police Force, what’s your emergency?” A stoic feminine voice was heard on the other side of the call.

“M-Me and my wife need help immediately, t-there is a crowd of people outside. With bats and spray cans, I-I heard them destroying our car.” He said in a shaky tone trying to steady himself.

“And where are you and your wife?”

“Hiding in our bathroom within our apartment.” He spoke in a more steady voice, feeling calmer. “We live on the second floor at the Birger Complex, East Side.”

"Dispatching officers to your area, stay hidden. Can you describe ones outside?”

“T-They were mainly male humans and wore dark clothing, miss. Often with black hoodies over their head or red masks.” He explained as he sat down on the floor next to his wife. As he explained the situation to the dispatcher, despite her coldness she was good at ensuring if they were alright. He breathed in and out calming himself. “B-Both me and my wife are kemonomimi, w-”

He heard sudden sounds of banging at their door, they were right outside their apartment. With muffled yelling demanding them to “Come out, your dirty separatist!”

His wife started crying, covering her mouth trying to keep quiet. Leaning down, climbing into the bathtub in a better effort to keep quiet. Still having a hand over her stomach, protecting her daughter. Her eyes, despite the tears looking up at her husband still on the phone call with the police.

“T-They outside and.” He was interrupted with the sounds of whoever was outside trying to slam through the door, the door creaking loudly with each slam.

“I’m gonna bash your traitorous head in!” They could hear the muffled yell, filled with hate and anger.

“Stay hidden, the police will be there any second.” Their dispatcher said, trying to comfort them, but he wasn’t sure he believed her dropping his phone as he wrapped his arms around his wife hugging him tightly.

‘Thank the spirits we got the apartment with a former Ursine tenant, or both of us couldn’t fit into the tub.’ The wife tried to calm herself down with a small joke in her head, resting her head against her husband. Giving a soft pur against him.

He prayed to himself closing his eyes begging that they stay protected, that the man currently trying to bash in the outside door failed. That the police would be there soon. That they won’t be forgotten, and luckily they weren’t as soon enough he heard sirens in the background. With an audible “Fuck!” coming outside, though he didn’t hear the sounds of the man running away yet. Instead for a small moment he heard the sound of spraying for a good minute before he heard running.

“L-Lets stay here until we get clearance from the police.” He spoke up, looking down at his wife.

She nuzzled deeper into his neck, quietly purring. Not wanting to say anything and honestly not sure what she could say after this. Well besides one thing. “I-I think the curry is going to get cold….”

“We still do have a microwave.” He joked in a weak tone before kissing her forehead. Their plan to use the car to leave the country was certainly not on the table anymore.

23:58, 18th October, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

Sanna could not help but let out a sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking over the series of letters and reports given to her, all being complaints levied against her government. Not from everyday citizens, she didn’t have time for those. No, these were from parliamentarians, the president and even military officials. All with the simple one major complaint.

Block the Mkænian referendum.

She won’t lie and say it wasn’t tempting to just block the referendum, to allow the military to just send its forces down to stop all the campaigning. To threaten the MIP leadership with arrests and be done with it all. Yet, she couldn’t find herself to do it. Even with her own minister of public security urging her too she couldn’t. Her party had stood firmly behind the values Gerjikdal had pushed for afterall, she couldn’t ignore Mkæniszna’s right to self determination.

“More trash being thrown at you from the National Bloc? Or is it Tårnet?” She looked up from her desk to see her wife leaning against the door frame to her office, a small smile on her lips raising an eyebrow at her. Her wife was wearing a dark red nightgown, one that Sanna certainly appreciated looking at.

“Not just them. The military is concerned too.” Sanna shook her head as she stood up from her chair walking up to her wife, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll go to bed soon, sweetie.”

“You better, you’ve been staying up even later than normal.” Olivia complained, crossing her arms giving an annoyed look towards her taller wife, though her black wolf tail swayed side to side. Happy to finally get some attention from her wife.

“Well, someone has to run the country now.” Sanna teased Olivia, giving her a kiss on the lips and wrapping an arm around her waist. “How about we spend some time together tomorrow? After my meeting with the president that is. I would love to have you brighten my day after dealing with him.”

“I’d love that.” Olivia said in a warm tone, wrapping her arm around Sanna as well kissing her back passionately. Though only for a small moment, before she had to pull away to go to bed. Leaving her wife alone in the office. Once more.


10:30, 19th October, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

Sanna took a sip from her coffee cup as she waited for the president to enter the meeting room. Being partially annoyed at his tardiness, with her having been told that the president had been delayed as a result of being in a ‘festive’ yesterday. No matter, she can confront him about it when he enters. Which soon enough he did as the door opened revealing the messy haired president fixing his tie.

“My apologies, Mrs. Vakrela. Being late is usually not my thing.” He said with a small smirk as he walked up to the prime minister, reaching out to shake her hand.

“It’s forgiven. Though expect better punctuality for meetings that you called for.” She said, giving his hand a tight shake before gesturing for the president to sit down.

“Well I expect officials to follow their patriotic duties but here we are.” He gave her hand tight squeeze back as the smug look from him early was for a moment replaced with one of annoyance. Sitting down on his chair adjusting his National Bloc pin that was on his dark red tie. A pin that was a symbol of a black sword and hammer that was placed across each other.

“I prefer to follow the duties of democracy and self determination, rather than the duties and values of those opposing it.” Sanna took another sip of her coffee as she sat down dusting off the small but dust she saw on her pencil skirt. “Now tell me. What are your security concerns, Mr. Tårnet.”

“Well, I have recently found out a major security flaw in our country and I realized I had to tell you as quickly as possible.” His voice sounded serious, one filled with hints of concern he let out a solemn sigh.

“Oh? What is it.” She put down her cup meeting the president’s gaze.

“Look, I think it might be best if I show you it on my phone.” Tårnet shook his head somberly as he pulled out his phone. Tapping on something for a second. For a brief moment Sanna thought that he might be genuine, that he had some information about the terrorist attack that happened a month ago. So many soldiers died and there was no information that she could give to their mothers and fathers about who did it. If he had information about those who were guilty about the attacks she could react swiftly. Unfortunately when she saw what was on the phone she could just let out an irritated groan while the president had a smug smile. “I found our biggest national security threat, I should be rewarded in all honesty.” His tone was taunting as the screen being the camera directed at her and focusing on her face.

“Mr. Tårne-” She began speaking as she gave a harsh glare towards the president. Though soon enough she was interrupted by the bastard.

“Oh let me take a quick picture of it just to ensure it’s well documented.” He spoke in a continuously smug tone as he quickly took a picture of Sanna before he turned his phone back to himself before putting it back into his pocket. “Now I should be compensated for dealing with such a threa-”

“That is enough, Mr. Tårnet.” Sanna sneered, wanting nothing more than shew him out. “Now do you have any real complaints, or are just looking to make a fool of yourself.”

“Oh well I was being serious already, but let’s have it your way.” Erik said with a chuckle his smile stayed there for a small moment before turning colder. “I’m here to talk about Mkæniszna.”

“Oh come on.” She said in an frustrated tone as she stood up only for the bastard to grab her hand harshly.

“Sit down.” It was his turn to glare as he looked up at her, his voice fully cold. “I’m not letting you walk away from a real discussion about this. If you’re gonna let those separatist win, then the least you can do is to convince me of why.”

“And what does that win me exactly? I’ve already approved the referendum. It’s gonna happen.” Sanna pulled her hand away from the president but she did not walk away.

“My silence.” The president gestured to her to sit down which she hesitantly did. “If you expect your little concession to those separatists to not cause issues, then you’re terribly mistaken. But if you convince me, I won’t stoke the flames.”

“If it makes you stop your rhetoric then I’ll take it.” Sanna let out a sigh as she poured herself another cup of coffee. “Fact of the matter is, I don’t think we have much choice.” She saw the president raise an eyebrow at her, gesturing to her to continue. “Think about it, during the cold war the Mkænian Insurgency was a brutal and expensive affair. Unnecessary amount of death occurred and our nation was drying up a lot of our wealth to keep it down. The Mkænians weren’t powerful of their own but through the backing of Kaldrbuth and Norgsveldet Mkænian resistance had guns that were even more modern than our army. I do not want to risk another chance of an armed insurgency with an even angrier Kaldrbuth at our doorstep.”

“So what? We were still successful in keeping them down, we enforced our rule on them and we had economic support from the UCCS. We are a nation built on Einarist ideals, we should not cower from a possible fight just because of the Royalist Imperialists in the west.” Erik’s tone was filled with irritation and anger as he spoke, seeming almost offended by what she said.

“Mr. Tårnet, the insurgency only ended because Gerjikdal negotiated with them and extreme secularist laws of Våld. Our late president went against the Einarist values you support because he wanted to build a truly democratic and prosperous republic.” Sanna took a sip from her coffee before continuing on. “Mkæniszna has the right to succeed as decreed by the constitution and my government’s position is to support the values of Gerjikdal not Våld’s.”

“So that’s it? You will give away our territorial integrity for those values.”


“Does our nation mean nothing to you?” The president was gritting his teeth, causing the prime minister to sigh.

“I care more about it than you do, you may say you love our nation but your rhetoric is turning people against each other.” She took another sip from her coffee, finding it to calm her nerves more.

Erik let out a deep frustrated sigh, being quiet before speaking again. “Well I cannot agree, I just can’t. Not without a shift in our security policies.” He gave a firm look towards the prime minister. “If you state your willingness to join the Ellsvisse Accords and boost our defense spending I could see myself holding back in my criticism.”

“Not gonna happen. I want to decrease tensions on the continent, not increase. Do you not think that would send the wrong message after what happened in Ishindale?” She raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a curious look.

Though the president just rolled his eyes. “You not gonna get any tears from me, Mrs. Vakrela. I do not feel sadness when royalists die.” He sneered at her, earning only a glare as he did. With her replying in a cold tone.

“Children died, Mr. Tårnet.”

“Which they wouldn’t If the Kaldrbuthian bitch-queen listened to the KRF.” He stood up from his chair, glaring down at her. “Or does the prime minister want to turn her back on republican allies?”

“They’re terrorists-”

“They are freedom fighters fighting against a corrupt monarchy, are you even a socialist anymore? Or has your Mkænian Akuan separatist wife made you soft?” He continued to sneer at her.

“She isn’t Mkænian or even an Akuanist for damned sake.” Sanna finally stood up from her chair angry that he was bringing her wife into this. “I advise you to leave. Mr. President.”

“Perhaps I should.” He turned around with a small smirk on his face as he turned around walking towards the door. “I do not want to talk further with a traitor like you.” With that the president opened the door leaving before harshly closing it with a loud slam.

12:15, 25th October, 2023
Hrafnheimr, Kaldrbuth

The Kaldrbuthian Queen was a tall attractive elven woman dressed in dark gray robes and a tiara made of pure Atlalandian gold as she fell on her knees to pray. The queen had long white hair and deep blue eyes as she held her hands together. ‘May the Allmother give me wisdom to guide my nation, may she give me strength to ensure our victory. May our daughters arrive at he-‘ Her prayer was interrupted by a knock on the door to her room. “Who is it?” She asked, still having her eyes closed hoping whoever it was could wait.

“It me, mom.” Her daughter’s voice spoke through awkwardly. “The prime minister is here, she arrived earlier to the meeting than expected.”

Astrid let out a deep sigh before rising on her feet as she walked towards the door opening it. Revealing her quite a bit shorter daughter, an darked haired woman with deep blue eyes like her. Though unlike her she had two pairs of ears one elven kind like her than two black nekomimi ears like that of her father. “Tell Mrs. Ysverdatur to meet me upstairs. She and I have much to discuss.” The Queen’s voice sounded a lot like commands she would give most people, rather than that of a mother asking their daughter to do a favor for them.

“Right away, mom.” Her daughter nodded her head at that as immediately walked down the hall before stopping half way. “Mom, If it is not too much to ask. Would you be willing to join me and husband’s trip the ski trip at our mountain resort next month?”

Astrid let out a small chuckle. “I would have thought you and your husband would have wanted to be alone?” She gave her daughter a tiny teasing smile. “I do have to decline, I will be very busy soon enough. You will likely be too, just so you know.”

“And I’ll do my duties diligently, mother.” She heard her daughter let out a heavy sigh.

“Good, now fetch the prime minister.” Astrid held a warmer smile than before as she walked into the meeting room moving towards the mahogany table prepared, with coffee having already been prepared for the meeting. She poured herself a cup of it before sitting down at the table, patiently waiting for the prime minister. Soon enough the elven woman was accompanied by a fellow elf as a brown haired elven woman dressed in a black and white suit with a blue tie. “Mrs. Ysverdatur, please take a seat.”

The prime minister gave a deep headbow towards the queen. “Thank you, your majesty.” She sat down on the other side of the table taking out a few papers from her suitcase looking over them before sliding them over to the Queen. Neither being much for small talk. “I’ve been informed by Mrs. Danidatur that there is a possibility that officers from the East Atlalandian army might plan a coup against their own government.”

Astrid read through some of the papers, her eyes carefully scanning over its contents before looking up at her prime minister. Gesturing for her to continue.

“The director stated that they will attempt first and foremost to stop the referendum in Mkæniszna. If that was to occur…” The prime minister trailed off for a moment.

“Then we will intervene.” The Queen’s voice was cold as she spoke. “We must ensure that the referendum gets passed, more so if a pro-terrorist government is established in East Atlalandr.”

“Your majesty, it would have major ramifications. Are you su-”

“51.” Astrid interrupted her prime minister, her tone keeping the same ice cold tone from earlier. “51 children died because of them, 211 died in total. We must secure a buffer between us and those bastards.”

“Your majesty, please understand that-”

“You know I can replace you, right?” The Queen interrupted her prime minister once more, raising an eyebrow towards her. “I let you govern. I let you be one making policies. But your authority comes from me. As such I will make it clear. The moment you hear about those socialists sending its army to stop the referendum.” She took a sip from her coffee as she let the prime minister wait in anticipation and nervousness after having her position threatened. “I want you to bomb them. Immediately. Protect that referendum.”

Ysverdatur was quiet for a moment, she wasn’t going to oppose her own queen. But she was fearful of how a war could affect her political position.

“Am I made clear?” Astrid glared at her, causing the prime minister to just slowly nod.

“Yes. Your majesty. I will… ensure that the referendum will go as planned.” She let out a small sigh before turning her focus to another report. Sliding it over towards the queen. Letting her carefully read over. “The defense minister stated that the Ny’Akide is fully prepared to cross the border If the need was to arise. They have been fully armed with our most modern tanks and IFVs. She suggested that If we are to seriously let them cross then they will need reinforcement from our core army and immediate air support.”

“And that they will get, and more.” The Queen took a sip from her coffee cup.

“Now, on another topic. What are we to do with the… Akuan Socialist group that’s within Mkæniszna?” The prime minister raised an eyebrow at Astrid. “The moment a conflict was to arise, well. They wouldn’t be easy to control.”

“They are the Federation’s proxy, It is their problem not ours.” The Queen let out a small sigh, as she stayed quiet for a moment. “For now they are useful for the Feds and ensure their support to our cause, but I refuse to let some radicals tarnish our image internationally.”

“I can certainly agree with that.” Ysverdatur nodded along as she handed the Queen more reports. “They’ve already done attacks against East Atlalandian border garrisons, I think they are getting a bit antsy. To say the least.”

Astrid let out a sigh shaking her head as her eyes carefully read through the report. “We will deny having ever supported them, but we will tackle that issue later.” She finished her cup, knowing full well that this was going to be a long meeting.


23:17, 29th October, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

Dasker Marertitar was an elven general of well known status within East Atlalandr, and an Einarist to a fault. Having previously threatened previous president Gerjikdal with a coup back in the 90s at the height of the reforms. Though unfortunately for the old general the people had lost faith in Einarism, and he had few friends in Concord willing to support him back then. So his ideas of reversing those reforms and ensuring the AEP control of the country was dashed before he could even enact it. Worst yet he was demoted soon after by Gerjikdal, no longer the commanding general of one of Concord’s largest armies. He was now ‘just’ a lieutenant general. Obviously for many that was a major achievement, he was not going to deny that. Yet he couldn’t help but find himself tonight looking down at the bottom of his bottle, as he took off his vodka.

All the while he was watching the news, frowning as he saw the prime minister defending the ‘rights’ of separatists once more. “What a bunch of horse shit.” He mumbled to himself, taking a massive swing from his bottle. He took hold of the remote and changed the channel, he didn’t need a politician to make him regret still being sober despite it all. Switching it to a sports channel, perhaps becoming angry at his hockey team’s performance would bury the anger he was having towards the system. If not it certainly was more entertaining. Though those thoughts were broken by the blaring ringing from his phone.

“Bloody, fucks sake.” He grumbled as he angrily grabbed the phone. “What the fuck you want?” He growled out as he squeezed his phone tighter. “I swear If this is a scammer again than I will personally bomb your ho-”

“Well good evening to you as well, Mr. Marertitar.” The voice was a cold, taunting and feminine one that the general recognised immediately.

“Mrs. Våld, my apologies for the anger. Just rather… frustrated.” His shoulders immediately relaxed as he leaned back against the sofa.

“Well I have an offer for you, If you want to grab an opportunity instead of a bottle.” Her voice let out a small taunting chuckle as she spoke. Though despite it he couldn’t help but listen.

“I’m all open ears.” Dasker grabbed the bottle and took a small sip of it. “Though it better be good. It is late.”

“The details of this can be discussed tomorrow morning, but I first must ask. How much do you want your old job back?” The general could not see her, though he was certain that she was smiling. The red princess certainly seemed to have inherited her grandmother’s cunning.

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11:38, 1st November, 2023
Veridal, East Atlalandr

Sanna took a sip of her coffee cup calming her nerves as she watched the reports. Of large crowds made up of the president’s supporters gathered outside the parliament. With Tårnet egging the crowds on, calling for a ‘national’ revolution. Luckily she has been informed by her party that the MPs and staff have been evacuated out of the building. With the police and national guard keeping the rioters at bay, with reports of some of the thugs having been shot. She could let out a sigh of relief that it was being handled. Though she was going to have the president be arrested for treason because of this. She then heard her phone ring, quickly grabbing it in case new reports came from her party. Though instead she saw it was her wife Olivia that was calling. She smiled as she answered it.

“You okay?! I heard news of what was happening, is everything okay with you?!” Her wife’s worried and panicked voice yelled out from her phone.

“I’m alright, Olivia. The crowds are only at the parliament building, not at the prime minister building.” Sanna said in a warm comforting tone as she stood up from her chair and walked up the window.

“Are you sure everything is alright? This is worrisome, this feels like it’s bigger than
this. Don’t you think you should come home just in case?” Olivia’s voice was still panicking.

“I’m gonna be alright, sweetie. While most of the national guard is at the parliament, there are still some here protecting me. I’m safe.” She could hear the footsteps of her wife pacing around the room. “I’m gonna be okay. I promise.” She said in a warm tone as she looked out the window, looking over to the street as a couple guards stood guarding the gate entrance. Dressed in their black and red uniforms, with clear Einarist imagery on their back. Part of her wish was changed but many were still in love with the aesthetic of the Våldist years. “If something happens I’ll call you, alright?”

“Alright. But you better do, okay?!” Olivia ordered her wife, causing the prime minister to let out a small giggle.

“I promise. Love you, darling.”

“Love you too.” With that Sanna ended the call, looking down at her phone with a fond smile before putting it down into her pocket. She knew her wife was going to worry over her when she came home, but that only made her smile more. The prime minister was about to sit down and focus on her work but a glance out the window again made her stop in her tracks. Raising an eyebrow as she noticed an army truck stopping in front of the gates. She does not remember being told that more reinforcement was coming. Part of her told her to just let the guards handle it, but the other told her to keep watching.

One of the guards walked up to the truck talking with the driver, though being too far away she had no idea what was being said. But she noticed that the guard was grabbing his rifle tightly as he talked with whoever was behind the wheel. Noticing small hints of nervousness from the guard, she did not see the driver other than the arm that was making gestures outside the door’s window. The guard took a few steps back before pointing the rifle at the driver visibly yelling as he did so. She could hear very muffled and distant words of “Get out of the vehicle now!”. Though the guard’s yelling was soon silenced as a loud gun shot rang through, with the guard collapsing dead on the ground soon after. Clear shot through the head. Sanna had to place a hand over her mouth in shock and fear that she would puke after seeing it. She noticed the man who had shot the young guard being a brown haired elven man dressed in a highly decorated general uniform, his hand gun held up. With the elf standing near the back of the truck accompanied by two soldiers next to him, it was clear other soldiers were coming off the truck as well.

Sanna turned around and immediately ran out of the office as she heard sounds of gunfire from down below as her guards started fighting the intruders. As she entered the hall she immediately saw several of the guards running down the stairs to deal with the attacks, their captain yelling at them to secure the area before turning his attention towards her.

“Mrs. Prime Minister, we need to get you out of here. Now.” The captain was an older man around his 50s, with him pushing her away with another guard accompanying them as they hurried along.

“Captain Gråtiskar, explain what is happening.” Sanna said in a firm though wavering tone as she tried to seem more calm.

“We do not know what they want but rogue armed soldiers are trying to take control of the building. We must get you to the back door.” The captain kept leading the way with a pistol in his hand while the personal guard behind her watched the back rifle at the ready. Their footsteps made loud thuds as they jogged towards the second pair of stairs, behind an emergency door. Wasting no time the captain opened the door with harsh force holding it open as he gestured to the two to hurry up. Though the moment they entered Sanna noticed the dark haired elf from earlier with his gun aimed towards them. With the elven general being accompanied by three people, two soldiers with their rifles raised standing in front of him. With the third being none other than Elisa Våld, a tiny smirk on her face as she looked up towards them as she straightened her tie. Before speaking up with a cold and taunting tone.

“Mrs. Prime Minister, are you open for some negotiations?”

1 Like

12:33, 2nd November, 2023
Hrafnheimr, Kaldrbuth

The Kaldrbuthian Queen stood in front of the Royal Palace, with both her daughter and prime minister standing next to her. In front of them was an ocean of journalists and cameras waiting in deep anticipation of what she was about to announce. She could see that the press had come from around the Ulvrikian World. Including some from outside that origin as well. That despite the heavy rain that was falling upon them. Though she was spared from it by standing under the roof of her palace. She held her hand up to signify that she was about to speak.

The elven queen was cloaked in dark gray robe, with her golden tiara on top of her head. Putting on a stern and angry persona as she looked into the cameras. “Yesterday the entirety of Concord, no. The entire world was shocked by the scenes we saw in Veridal. Yesterday a group of armed men and opportunistic politicians decided to coup the democratically elected government of Mrs. Vakrela. Who is now held captive by the extremists in Veridal.” Her voice was cold, holding back an anger that only her daughter knew was held back to the most difficult of degree. “What was Vakrela’s crime for her arrest? Her belief in cultural self determination. She refused to abandon the Mkænian people’s right to decide their own fate.” She looked once more across the crowd, while gripping the edges of her podium harshly as she spoke into the mic.

“Today. The self-proclaimed protectors in Veridal decided to announce the release of the butcher Darit Hevner. I call her a butcher because that is what she is. She is guilty of butchering our children in Ishindale. Causing the largest terrorist attack in our nation’s history. All because she gave terrorists the means to attack us. And she was released. Today. By Mrs. Våld and her thugs in the military and presidency. And today this new government of thugs and radicals announced their wishes to butcher the dream of the Mkænian people.” The queen had to take a small moment to breath, calming herself before she could finish off the speech.

“As such. I have my own announcement. That being one simple thing. We will stand by the Mkænian people, not in words but with arms. As I am speaking, soldiers from our army are marching alongside Mkænian resistance fighters across the border. We will not let terrorist sympathizers cause more suffering. Not through their continued support to terrorists in our country, nor through terrorizing the Mkænian people. If the coupers want to fight. Then they will get their fight.” With that the queen pushed the mic away as she gestured to our prime minister to step forward, as a hurry of words and yells from journalists asking questions. Though she would not stay behind to answer them. As the doors of the palace opened, with her walking right in with her daughter following right behind her. Giving a concerned look towards her mother yet she kept herself quiet as the two let the prime minister deal with the fall out.

With the doors closing harshly behind them.

“Bang.” The ‘colonel’ Ny’Mkæn held out a finger gun from her position in the mountains, pointing towards the waiting border checkpoint below her. While she can’t be at every single border passing herself, she wanted to personally be at the biggest and therefore most essential one around. “I said bang.”

“The attack doesn’t start when you say bang, it starts in five minutes.” Her advisor spoke with an annoyed tone, sipping their cup of pure black coffee. The advisor wore their typical tracksuit, zipped up fully and wore a heavy fur coat around his shoulders.

“You have absolutely no flair for the dramatic do you?” The colonel turned away from the edge and back into the cave. Standing across from the adviser, crossing her arms. “It’s the flair of dramatics and drama that get the people motivated and interested.”

“It’s the military hardware meets training and experience that win the day. Not your endless desire to be acting out your Valkyr dramas.” The adviser rolled his eyes. “I question how and why we trained you sometimes.”

“For my flair of drama, entertainment value and sheer amount of righteous justice I will dispense onto the fascists fucks below.” Ny’Mkæn looked towards the coffee cup the man was drinking out of. “Did you bring one for me?” She gestures towards the cup.

“Nope.” The man responded, taking an annoyingly long sip from his drink. “Gotta go get one from the canteen or have your assistant bring you one.” He takes his thumb to point back toward the labyrinth cave network they established.

“Canteen is bloody ages away, how are you keeping that coffee hot?” The colonel spoke in a curious tone, watching the steam flow out of the container.

“Spite and hatred.” He takes another sip. “I checked with your officers, they’re all ready for the fireworks.” He looked down at his watch, checking the time before looking back up at her.

“Oh now you are using some actual colorful language in your speech. About time you loosen up for once and have some fun.” Ny’Mkæn gave a small laugh. “Here I thought I would be stuck with a robot.” She entered into the cave, standing across from her advisor.

“Just to check, you know we’re killing people right?” He raised an eyebrow, finishing his coffee cup and tossed it into the nearby garbage bag nearby further into their tunnel network.

“Hey pretty sure that’s ten points in basketball but yeah, no shit I know we’re killing people. I dreamed about this day, liberation of my homeland and driving these colonizer fucks out.” The colonel leaned against the cave’s wall. Looking out of the exit towards the mountains that made up their rocky native lands.

“Just checking.” The adviser leaned against the wall himself looking at the colonel. Complete and utter awkward silence filling the air. Not that he cared much to fill it himself.

The colonel gave an awkward cough, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “So, what do you do for fun? Watch hockey? Duels? Read books about whales?” Despite all the time they spend together, the good advisor of hers never gave the tiniest droplet about their personal lives.

“I watch construction timeline videos. Sometimes I watch construction in person if I have enough free time.” The adviser responded, looking outside of the cave. The howling wind blowing in cold air.

“That’s an actual thing? I thought that was one of those stereotypes. Unless you actually have a sense of humor.” Ny’Mkæn raised an eyebrow. Turning their attention back towards the kemonomimi man.

“I have a sense of humor.” He spoke in a tone that only someone with a complete lack of humor could ever provide. Checking his watch for a final time.

Ny’Mkæn shook her head. “Bullshit. I never heard you once make a joke nor have I seen you actually smile. It’s always business and ‘the game’ with you.”

“I’ve been called a comedian on more than one occasion.” Ny’Mkæn stepped forward, brushing off the dust from his tracksuit. Walking towards the cave’s exists.

“Oh shit it’s been five minutes already?” Ny’Mkæn sounded downright excited at the mention of that. “Finally.” Quite a bit excited to get out of this discussion with someone of the personality of stale bread.

“No, I just want some fresh air.” He raised his pair of binoculars scanning the parts of the mountain where the socialists will fire down from.

“Really?” In an almost disappointed voice, Ny’Mkæn started to walk back towards the cave.

“No, the attack is about to happen.” Her adviser spoke up, this time with an actual joke. The spirits must be pulling a fast one on her.

Ny’Mkæn blinked for a few seconds before following after. Shaking her head in disbelief. “Huh, a comedian.” If they weren’t about to start the largest assault in recent memory on Concord perhaps she would have pressed further.

The pair walked towards the exit of the cave together. The two of them took out their binoculars from their pouches to look down at the large base below them.

The base itself was the only real major military base on the border. Biggest in size and in manpower. All of their vehicles perfectly parked in place, since the fascists fucks have standing orders no to go out on patrols anymore. Not after they have been repeatedly having those patrol convoys go ‘missing’ and ‘disappear’ at the hands of the MSLF. Regardless of their distance, they can see the anxiety in the soldiers in them.

“Bang.” Ny’Mkæn spoke with an authoritative voice.

“Not yet.” He responded in a calm, yet annoyed voice. Similar to how a teacher deals with an overly excitable student.

She repeated her words, “Bang.”

“Not yet.” Once more, he responded back to her. “Now.”

“Bang.” Finally given the word, she gives a shout.

The base was burst to life with explosions freshly delivered from the mountains along all the sides. Machine gun fire poured lines of light into the base. The makeshift drones drive into the base, pouring out of the hiding spots in the bushes and small holes covered with leaves. Sniper fire, picking off various officers as they attempted to gain some sort of organization and response. The once perfectly parked vehicles turned into burning piles of steel and rubber.

“There is your bang.” The tracksuit wearing kemonomimi gave a flat tone. “The spearhead of the force should be arriving any second now from the roads.”

“Spirits guide my lance, this is the most beautiful shit I ever saw in my life.” Ny’Mkæn gave a wide smile. “How in the spirits were they not prepared for an assault like this? They know we have been targeting their patrols.”

“They have been, but most of their soldiers are conscripts not professionals like yours.” The adviser lowered his binoculars. Listening to the orchestra of death pouring into, witnessing the flames of war with his own naked eyes. “It is disappointing, but we have real soldiers soon arriving soon enough with the counter attack.”

“You are negative, can’t you just enjoy the band? They are playing your favorite song.” She lowered her own pair of binoculars. Raising her hands up into the air. “And I’m the conductor of this music.”

“Our reinforcements have arrived.” As the adviser spoke, the mountain path was rocked by sounds of a tank firing into the base. “Never liked close quarters combat like this, I would rather bomb and shell this base. However I suppose mountain combat leads to situations like this.”

“Drone strike this, bomb that. Can’t you enjoy a good old direct assault and overrun?” The colonel looked over towards the turning road to see the tanks leading the charge against the base. Infantry followed behind them using the tanks as cover.

“No, the goal of any operation is to maximize enem-” He was cut off by the colonel.

“Maximize enemy combatants losses, and minimize our losses. Yeah yeah, I know. However, where is the glory in that? What would you tell your children about this glorious conflict? That you ordered a bomb that took our a base?” The colonel looked towards her advisor.

“Depends, if we lose then of course I would. If we won, then what actually happens doesn’t matter. We can rewrite the narrative. If they claim we’re lying, it doesn’t matter as long as people believe us more than the truth.” The adviser looked towards the base again, watching as the soldiers of East Atlalandr desperately tried to hold the base’s walls and static defenses.

“That is lying. Lying bad don’t you know.” The woman turned her attention towards a particular building of the base. Watching as a rocket round from the mountains slams against it. “I won’t lie, it’s against what I believe in and everything my people believe in.”

“Then that’s your prerogative.” The man kept his focus on a tank moving closer towards the base, firing a round directly towards the main gate. “Looks like the Atlalandians lost control of the gates, I don’t see any of their machine guns firing anymore.”

“Probably because they’re dead. Oh shit look towards the armory. I think they’re making their last stand there.” She gave a tap with the back of her hand onto his stomach. Pointing towards the large building at the heart of the base. Lifting up her binoculars to look towards it closely.

“As they are, their base is overrun. Help is too far away, even if it was just jets. Armory is most certainly reinforced to take on direct fire. Though that doesn’t mean too much after another few rounds to it.” The man took his binoculars to look towards the armory.

“Maybe they realized we’re not hitting it but I guess that is probably not running through their mind.” The colonel gave a creeping smile, watching as the armory was surrounded by infantry and a tank barrel facing towards the entrance. The windows of the building are sealed shut from the inside.

The dam burst as the other divisions drove right through the base. Leaving a small handful to occupy the base and to deal with the holdouts in the armory. Tanks, APCs and trucks pushing right through the gates, and heading towards the next objective. The tip of the spear of the assault, staying behind to hold the base proper and begin to organize patrols to catch any stragglers. The mountains fell silent, their own soldiers the Akuan Socialists returning to the caves and hideouts. Preparing for the next ambush and moving into positions.

“That’s that. We need reports from other assaults.” The adviser lowered their binoculars, and turned around towards the cave. The colonel gave a small chuckle, following shortly after.

“Pretty good show, surprised everything went to plan. Surprised they folded so quickly still, I expect this to take hours not minutes” She spoke up, stretching out her arms. “Well, mostly still gotta go do our reading session.”

“Again, they’re conscripts and they weren’t ready for this scale of attack despite the clandestine activities. Their officer core was subpar, lacked quality leadership and up until now incredibly peaceful given the Akuan majority nature. As a result they became laxed, in terms of duty and in leadership. Additionally, debriefs and reading reports are not a ‘reading session.’ It is a core par-” His words drone on, giving instruction or something other.

“Just when I thought you were loosening up.” She muttered under her breath.

12:33, 4th November, 2023
Ny’Mkænby, Mkæniszna

In the office of the factory that the Akuan socialists turn into their headquarters. Now out in the open, guards openly carry flags on full display and more than a fair-share of military hardware out in the open. They don’t have to fear the threat of aerial or artillery bombardments, not when they are so deep into the righteous free hands of the people. Also with only a little bit of help from the Kaldrbuthian air force maintaining control of the sky in the mountainous region. Though one shouldn’t bring that little fact to the colonel.

In time of success, or doubt and any other manner of emotions. Ny’Mkæn loses herself in her literature, more specifically Akuan Socialism literature written by her most certainly not a crush, Naylorbrookiszna the immortal spirit of Socialism. The only true and real socialism. Bust of the human dictator behind her, next to her portrait painting, which is of course, right beside her silly little figures of Naylorbrookisza she bought when undercover in Vakrestrender.

Flipping the page to another chapter. Her kemonomimi ears perked, hearing a rough sounding knock at her door. “I swear, if you’re complaining about me losing your damn tracksuits again. Come in.” She gave a stern, aggressive tone.

A dark haired elven woman dressed in a camouflaged military uniform and a dark purple beret with a golden symbol of a raven head on it. While having a tiny Kaldrbuthian flag pinned on her right shoulder. “I assume you’re the commander of the MSLF?” She said, raising an eyebrow at Ny’Mkæn walking into the office and closing the door behind her. Giving a respectful nod towards the kemonomimi woman as she did so. Her tone being rather sharp, and her looks like that of most elves did not give real hint of how old she actually was.

She muttered underneath her breath. “Oh fuck sake its one of you.” It wasn’t clear if she meant elf or she meant Kaldrbuthian. She stood up, giving a half-body bow in return before returning to her seat. Thumb pressed down into her book, holding her page down. “My apologies for my response, thought you were the tourist. Please take a seat.” She gave a gesture towards the chair across from her. The elf could see how much the colonel took ‘inspiration’ from the colonel, wearing an extremely similar outfit as the one in the portrait of the dictator.

“Apologies accepted.” The elf’s tone didn’t give much away if she even cared to begin with as she took off her beret and held it towards her chest before giving a half bow in return. “I’m Colonel Elisa Plustner, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” She gave a small glance towards the portrait before taking a seat.

“Yeah, yeah we don’t have to do the pleasantries with each other. What do you need? If it was just a report, you could have just read them.” Ny’Mkæn kept a firm stare towards the elven woman.

"Simple coordination. My nation’s forces and your forces in the end must coordinate together.” Elisa held her eye contact with the commander. “Most of Mkæniszna is already secured, but there are still East Atlalandian troops holding on near the tunnels. If we coordinate a strike between your troops and mine we can cut off one few access points the enemy has with your nation.”

Thinking for a moment, the dictator spoke again. “We already collapsed a few smaller tunnels and valleys. Can’t do it to the big one though. It would cause too much damage to the Moaterian, and I would rather not have one of our largest cities ruined in such a way after we were able to secure it without much struggle.” She reached over to take a sip from her ‘26 Hour’ energy drink. “I would say flood the fucker with drones but we don’t quite have enough drones for it. Direct assault is costly.” She thought out loud. “In times like these, I like to take some inspiration from Naylorbrookiza.” She spoke in an excitable tone.

“I can talk with higher command to do an airstrike at the other end of the tunnel. The air force would have to go deeper into East Atlalandian territory but If the other end of the tunnel was to collapse then the remainder of their forces will either be inside the tunnel or forced to face our troops.” The elven colonel chose to ignore the topic of the past weird Akuan dictator and rather focus on the matter at hand. “Though that be dependent on how effective East Atlalandian air defenses are, so far they have not.”

"Fascists when cornered will always fight like rabid dogs when faced with the sword of the righteous socialists on behalf of the spirits.” She responded with a quote from Naylorbrookiszna’s ‘list of 100 quotes to memorize.’ She closed her book she was reading. “It’s better we don’t press our luck, here their air defenses were overwhelmed and captured because they were not expecting it. Now, we would break the imperialist’s homeground when they’re properly ready for it. Direct assault is costly, but if we wait for too long then they will be able to reinforce and we will lose our advantage. I have a new solution, one directly from the history books. If we’re looking at this practically, they’re going to push any of their defenses from the other end of the tunnel onto our side.” She stands up, walking up towards the map of the country and borders of East Atlalandr. “These mountains over here, it will be difficult to cross at the best of times. However if we cross it, we will be right above the tunnel on the Atlalandian side and we can overwhelm their defenses there. Collapse the tunnel, and then return back through our mountain path. They won’t be able to follow us through it, they don’t know the routes and they’re not trained nor equipped for it like mine is.”

Elisa nodded along with the plan as she thought it over. “It is rather high up in latitude, are you certain your troops have the logistical ability to do it? It certainly takes a while to get up there.” She raised an eyebrow at the kemonomimi commander.

“My people’s benefactors didn’t just train us to look pretty and win a war. The only difference with crossing this mountain and attacking vs when they’re training us for mountain combat was this time we’re not being chased down by our trainers. That and red imperialist bastards are actively trying to kill us.” The woman gave a strong look towards the elf. “This is perfectly do-able, but we have to start right away.” She starts walking towards her desk, looking for her radio.

“Then let’s draw up a plan for it at once.” The elven colonel said as she stood from her chair and walked up next to the kemonomimi commander as the two planned out the next attack.

24rd January, 2024
Ny’Mkænby, Mkæniszna

Ny’Mkænby, before the liberation war it was capital of the autonomous republic and now with liberation at hand. It is the seat of the provisional government of Mkæniszna, and out of all battles fought for the liberation. It was the one that the East Atalandians fought the least for surprisingly, despite it being the former headquarters of the garrison and border security in the once autonomous republic. Unlike the earlier cities and towns of the Mkænian Liberation Alliance, they took time to take their equipment as they fled.

The city itself was the largest one in the region. It was built twice over, and plans for for a third time now on the mind. It wasn’t the most wealthy looking city, and looked like one of those Côtois mass-produced cities but without any of the bits that made it less depressing. Any attempts by the local Akuanists to infuse their own flair into the construction was… Violently refused to say it politely. Resulting the city being a boring, bland concrete mess of depressive architecture, public transport that could be best explained as red bricks on wheels from the 1960s and heavy use of statues of historical figures whose best interaction with the Mkænian people was with tear gas and mass arrests.

The parliament, well the parliament of the autonomous republic, converted over to the headquarters of the Mkænian Liberation Alliance. It was a four stories tall concrete brick with steel and glass. Giant red star was installed in front of the building, the statue of various socialists laying on the ground after being torn down by the MLA and the flag of the free Mkænian state was raised high. Within the former office of the region’s chairperson, three kemonomimi sit across from each other.

The dark trench coat wearing one spoke up first. “You both look like shit.” She reached over on the table, picking up her cup of coffee. Her officer’s cap leaning towards one side.

“Ever the polite one.” The aging brewmaster and now prime minister said with a sigh as he shook his head. Ny’Zekkial was wearing a dark gray robes, similar to design of kimonos in Nystatiszna though with Mkænian style in it. Which meant it took inspiration from the robes of the Ulvrikian Gothirs. He had a thick gray beard with his black hair grabbing as well.

“I’d chastise you for your lack of politeness to our elders, but we have much work to do.” Ny’Isznki spoke up next, who was a kitsune man that simply towered over the other two in the room. Wearing a camouflage uniform from the Kaldrbuthian army. Though instead of a dark purple beret with a golden raven symbol on it, it instead was a dark blue beret with a silver symbol of a mountain. “While the red imperialists are fully kicked out of our country they are still relentlessly bombarding us with missiles. Our allies have helped ensure that the large majority of said missiles is downed, some inevitably gets through.” He took out a few reports placing them on the desk, despite having been placed into a ministry position he sounds and acts much like the military commander he always has been. “Some border towns have been hit so we will need to focus on helping those affected.”

“It’s a good opportunity for PR and getting an early lead whenever the election starts happening.” Ny’Mkæn removed her black officer’s cap, placing it on the table. “Not to mention having a bunch of those victimized folks on camera can do some good numbers online, start turning people in that capitalist shit hole of a nation UCCS and Raven worshiping religious nutjobs over in Norgsveldet more towards our cause. After all, no one likes seeing innocent people being hurt and killed. It would be wise if we sent some media specialists to them with the assistance, maybe we can get a few children crying on camera while we’re at it. Really get the people radicalized and see the truth.”

The prime minister could not help but give a worried look towards the youngest figure in the room. Though before he could voice his… concern over her reaction to the reports, his minister of defense spoke up instead.

“While not a priority. She is correct that it is a good way to win the hearts and minds of the international community.” Ny’Isznki said in a more solemn tone. “Local army and police units are already at the scene to help the affected, it will be easy to send media special as we send them more aid.”

“I would like to remind you that we are already getting support from Norgsveldet. They are on our side and have proactively defended our cause internationally.” Ny’Zekkial spoke up giving still bit stern looks towards the two military commanders.

“Then let’s put our focus on convincing the UCCS then. The more the Concordians feel sympathy to our cause the more likely they put pressure on the reds and the Tilmerians to end this.” Ny’Isznki was not faced by the look. “We can hold out on this war, all we need to ensure is to get international sympathy is on us. Sooner or later East Atlalandr and Tilmeria will run out of missiles, we just need to ensure that countries like Norgsveldet pressures other countries to not supply them with more.”

“If you want the pigs to squeal, I can have a few of my officers take photos of children lining up to get their rations, and edit the photo a little. Nothing too much, just add some cold lighting and boom. Sad kids standing in a sad line to get sad food. Can do it all on a Jotun, with very little effort. Parents love seeing sad kids in foreign countries, makes them feel horrid and puts pressure on their government to make the kids not sad. Oh shit! Idea.” Ny’Mkæn’s claps her hands together, rubbing them. “We get an orphan to identify one of their parent’s bodies. Record the whole thing, add in some sad music. Boom, instant hits online and spreads everywhere.”

Ny’Zekkial glanced towards his minister of defense, who in return just shrugged his shoulders. With the prime minister just letting out a sigh. “It is important to tell their stories. You two have my approval on ensuring the attacks get well documented and shared internationally.” He didn’t like using the pain of others as a simple tool of propaganda as his ministers seem fine with doing. But at the same time, sharing the stories of the victims is important. It is how their culture survived the brutal persecution of the Våldist era. Through spreading the awareness that was happening.

“More stuff like that gets shared, the easier it is for our allies to make a case for a cease fire internationally. I can easily imagine Norgsveldet focusing the IF’s attention towards a ceasefire resolution. Instead of Tilmerian and Reds attempt of trying to make the IF condemn Kaldrbuth.” Ny’Isznki would normally feel weirded out being in the same wavelength as a damn Akuan Socialist. But right now the radical lunatic had a point.

“They’re not the ‘Reds.’ MSLF is the ‘Red.’ Those murderous fucks hiding behind the mountains are brown shirts dyed red and class traitors.” Ny’Mkæn gave a harsh stare towards Ny’Isznki. "Anyway. crying sad kids, sad orphan crying over their parents’ corpses and what else was on the agenda?”

Ny’Zekkial let out a heavy sigh, he was not in the mood to deal with her insane ramblings. “We have a few things, another issue that brought to my attention is the matter of the mining industry. Specifically of the Federation’s worker cooperatives that are involved here.” He brought up a few documents of his own, ones that showed in detail the lack of tax revenue that should be coming from the cooperatives. “They have been paying the municipality taxes, but not the national tax. While we have circumvented this by simply having the individual municipalities to give said share to our government. It has been a matter of bureaucratic difficulty compared to if the cooperatives just paid directly to our government.”

“Than lets force them.” Ny’Isznki said, crossing his strong arms hearing the news. “If they want to keep operating in our country they should pay directly to us or face nationalization, simple as.”

“Let’s skip the pony show and directly nationalize them then deport their citizens out of our country.” Ny’Mkæn leaned back into her chair. “Actually let’s go a step further, we should seize whatever wealth their citizens were robbing out of our country then deport them. To make up for back taxes.”

“That could place the ire of the Federation on us. If we are to get the international community on our side than forcefully deporting foreigners will not help.” Ny’Zekkial said, giving a stern look towards the Akuan Socialist leader.

“Small issue then.” Ny’Mkæn sipped her coffee. “My forces have been deporting some Atlalandians and seizing their wealth. Also a food truck. At least within the regions where my forces operate.”

“We have tried stopping them sir.” Ny’Isznki said wanting to clarify that he had tried to stop them.

Ny’Zekkial once more let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “The point being, is that we cannot rush this matter. I’m not against nationalizing cooperatives in theory. But I would want to discuss the matter with Mrs. Pierre.”

“I would like to note that the Federation has not recognised us as a state, It’s just as likely that she might reject any talks before you even get to ask.” Ny’Isznki said in a stoic tone, he hardly had the most positive view of the country.

Ny’Mkæn gave a snarl at the mention of the Federation. “Spirits be with us. I pity you old man if you have to sit in a room with that apostate.” Giving a shake of her head. “Don’t you have a brother’s roommate, who is friends with the servant of that species traitor who married their allnothing bloodline damned princess? Can’t the Kaldrbuths put some pressure on them?”

“I would like you to have some respect for the people who are currently ensuring we are not being blown to bits.” Ny’Zekkial said in an irritated tone before calming himself. Anger was not good for his old heart. “If Pierre is not willing to meet with me for a cup of tea and diplomatic talks, then I’ll bring the matter directly to the Kaldrbuthian queen. I’ve already been in talks with her before about the matter and she stated she would support us if we decide to create a state owned company from any assets we seize. Though I told her I wanted to solve the issues diplomatically first.”

“Hey, I’m respectful to their faces.” Ny’Mkæn replied in an aggressively smug tone. “Speaking of state owned companies, and I would of course like to remind everyone at the table MSLF is still agreeing and holding to the agreement we have. I would like to bring forward that we nationalize all businesses not owned by Mkænians. First starting with the banks and farmland.” She would bring up that they should start working towards building a planned economy but if she pushed anymore buttons, the old brewmaster might end up having a heart attack and she would be stuck with the killjoy with his endless whining about rules of war.

“I would be in favor of nationalizing those businesses, but we would need a plan on what to do with it after.” Ny’Isznki said in a clear tone, he was in favor of a heavy state interventionist model. They needed to be heavy handed after all If they were going to recover economically after the war. “I would push for distributing agricultural lands seized from Atlalandians to Mkænian farmers.”

“These are matters that will need to be discussed with Mrs. Sandnes, it is not a matter of this current meeting.” The old brewmaster said, crossing his arms giving a stern look towards the both of them. “That not to even mention the financial compensations we would have to give.”

“We could just not compensate them.” Ny’Isznki said, shrugging his shoulders.

Ny’Mkæn spoke up in agreement. “They never compensated us when they stole it from us.”

“Enough. Enough.” Ny’Zekkial placed his hand up to signal the two to quiet down. “It is not the topic of today’s meeting.” He took out another document, this one about the plans for the integration and eventual unification of South Mkæniszna to their Mkæniszna. “I’ve had a long conversation with the Kaldrbuthian Queen about the much awaited unification with our southern siblings. We now have a time frame, on the 20th March the Queendom of Kaldrbuth will relinquish control of South Mkæniszna.” He gave a warm smile at the news. “It will be a small boost to our population but economically that should almost double our nation’s current level of gdp.”

“So I take it that nationalizing any Kaldrbuthian businesses is off the table?” Ny’Mkæn cracked a joke, getting a rather rude look from Ny’Zekkial. “I’m just joking. Spirits around us. On a more serious note, I would be concerned that because the south is so much more developed, it will have more influence over the center. Though I have a perfect plan to make the center catch up to the south.” She raises her hands up, clapping them together before spreading them apart speaking as she did so. “Planned Economy, the solution to most of our economic problems.”

“I already told you the financial talks can wait until we have an actual meeting with the minister of finance.” Ny’Zekkial said, giving a look towards Ny’Mkæn before letting out a sigh. “Though the heavy wealth of the south will be a matter that shall be discussed. For now, I think it is a matter we can wait until after the ceremony.”

Ny’Isznki raised an eyebrow at that. “Ceremony?”

The brewmaster gave a quick nod. “The unification ceremony. To mark the day for its major importance, we shall uphold a cultural ceremony together with the Kaldrbuthian Crown Princess and her husband.”

“We?” Ny’Mkæn raised an eyebrow at that, tilting her head curiously. She was currently sitting somewhere between one to two million SHD bounty on any information leading to her arrest or death. For some alleged war crimes and few cases of high profile assassinations. she gave a look over towards Ny’Isznki, perhaps the brewmaster just means the buzzkill in the room.

“All of us.” Ny’Zekkial said, still having a smile on his face. “It is an important matter of unity afterall, can’t have unity without having all of us there.”

“Well, I’d be happy to be a part of such an grand ceremony.” Ny’Isznki said, giving a small bow of his head, being glad to be part of a ceremony with the Crown Princess. Knowing that she had been a big proponent for their people for a while now. Though part of him knows very much that he will be needing to keep a further eye on Ny’Mkæn.

“Seriously? I am pretty sure I saw my face on NNN with big flashing red letters ‘Terrorist’ and several reporters stating that people shouldn’t judge our movement just because my army are in it.” Ny’Mkæn was genuinely confused by the whole situation. Perhaps it was just a way to keep her away from homeland and try to seize power while they’re gone.

“You can reject the invitation if you want to, Ny’Mkæn.” Ny’Zekkial said keeping a smile on his face while internally really hoping she rejects being part of the ceremony.

“So you fuckers can scheme behind my back to get rid of me with the Kaldrbuthian Queen? Not a chance.” Ny’Mkæn crosses her arms together. “You two are up to something. I know it.”

“Stop complaining and be happy you’re gonna even be part of the ceremony.” Ny’Isznki said, rolling his eyes.

“Never.” Ny’Mkæn replied.

20th March, 2024
Mkænborg, South Mkæniszna

Mkænborg, in contrast to its twin city of Ny’Mkænby, was one of much wealth and culture. Having become a place in which Mkænian culture got to flourish, at least compared to in its northern siblings. Large Akuan shrines were built, with statues of Mkænian cultural legends having also been made. Much of the city’s buildings was of old Mkænian design, instead of the dreary concrete buildings of Ny’Mkænby it was instead much more colorful. With many buildings being from the 1700s or older. Though the city obviously had its more modern side, often near the city’s mining industry. In which much of the buildings was made of Ulvrikian housing style from the 1970s, back when the city took in many refugees from the rest of Mkæniszna. In which the city grew from a small town, to a large city with over 150k inhabitants. While it was still far smaller than other cities in Kaldrbuth, it was still an achievement many of the city’s residents were proud of.

And Ny’Andriz was among one of them as he smiled broadly out the window, towards home town. Towards the city he was ever so proud of his. His brown kitsune tail swayed excitedly as he looked on to the large ceremony being prepared down below. With him seeing staff doing last minute preparations as podiums were being made, tables were being set and with the Mkænian flag being nearby, not yet raised but will soon enough.

“You know, I don’t think you were even this excited when we had our wedding.” He heard his wife tease behind him, with her being none other than the Crown Princess of Kaldrbuth, Astrid Astriddatur. She had a small teasing smile on her lips. She was dressed in a dark purple royal uniform, with a golden symbol of raven head as a pin on her right chest. With her combing her short black hair for a moment before finally walking up behind her husband. Easily towering over him, with the elven part of her still ensuring she easily stood above most kemonomimi. She wrapped her arms around his waist hugging him tightly. “I know this is a big day, but try not to push over furniture with how much you wag your tail, hmm?”

He warmly hugged her back, giving a warm pur in response. “My apologies but… I can’t tell you how much I dreamt of this day.” He gave a dream-like tone before remembering he married a Hjordist and quickly corrected himself. “Not as much as I have dreamed of you of course.” He let go of the hug. “The flags are soon to be raised, and I just can’t help but just be a little bit excited.”

The Crown Princess just let out a small giggle at that. “You are just adorable.” She gave him a peck on the forehead. "It’s all fine, just don’t use up all your energy, sweetie. You’re gonna need it later.” She placed a hand on his head scratching it as she looked down at him, a warm smile on her face.

“Ah all the dancing and partying we must attend. How dreadful.” He gave a cheeky grin up at her, locking his arm with hers. “Shall we meet Prime Minister and the heroic Ny’Akide leader?” He couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at all of this happening.

“We still have to wait for my brother, he always take such a long t-” Astrid started saying before being interrupted by the voice of her younger brother.

“I’ve been here for a while, you were just too busy flirting.” Askil’s voice rang out in a small taunting tone, the prince having been standing in the corner of the room leaning against a wall. With him wearing a dark purple uniform, not much different from his sister’s. Though his being far less decorative and with more silver than gold. To signal his lower rank. “Lead the way.” He gestured towards the door with a smile on his lips. Being kelf much like his sister, though taking more from their mother side with him having long silver hair like their mothers with him having it tied up into a ponytail. Showing off his elven ears more, though his white nekomimi ears will always be eye catcher.

Astrid just let out a sigh shaking her head at her brother’s taunting but just decided to walk ahead with her husband at her. “You really need to find someone to settle down with.” She said towards her brother with an only mildly annoyed attitude as the two walked past him.

“Yeah Yeah. I’ll try to find myself a good honorable girlfriend and all that. Blah blah.” Askil said, rolling his eyes before walking after the two, much like Kaldrbuthian Royal procedure would have it. To follow the female members of the family, never beside them unless one is betrothed to them

“Short legs sweetie, short legs.” The unfortunate kemonomimi husband of the princess was tripping over themself in an effort to keep up with his wife.

_ _

The ever lovely and pleasant to be around colonel and leader of the MSLF was to put it politely. Watched like a hawk by armed soldiers following her around at a respectful distance. In her respectful opinion the whole ceremony missed several key aspects, such as a statue of herself or the increased use of the color red. Ny’Mkæn sipped from the wine bottle, a bottle that she picked up from a servant’s tray that was supposed to be poured into glass but she seized the means of drinking directly. Politely requested by the old man and the buzzkill, to keep herself away from anyone important or news reporters. Thus she stays in her respectful corner in the ceremony hall.

Soon enough new individuals would appear into the ceremony hall as Crown Princess Astrid and her husband entered it, with the two soon being met with the two main faces of Mkæniszna. As far as Kaldrbuthian were told at least. With the two talking with the Mkænian prime minister and the Ny’Akide leader, quite a bit away from the Akuan Socialist. Much to her boredom. Though before she could take another sip from her bottle, her eyes landed on the third individual to join the hall. A rather handsome individual.

The third pompous royal crossed breed peaked her interest. She placed down the bottle on a nearby shelf, walking towards him with a dangerous look in her eyes. Her long black trench coat, with the lovely addition of a fur cap on her back swaying as well as hiding black fox tail. The polite escort of guards following her gave a strange look to one another, unsure if they’re supposed to stop her from speaking with the prince or not. She walked directly in front of him, her green eyes digging into his own. She gave a polite half-body bow, at least trying to be somewhat polite to him. “Good afternoon.” She was completely unsure what to say next.

The prince stopped for a moment as he saw her approach him, being slightly surprised at first as he looked her up and down. He will admit that he was quite unknowledgeable about political matters, as his father said that was more a matter for women to deal with. Yet he was not completely ignorant about politics, he was not expecting to meet an actual Akuan Socialist. “Good afternoon to you as well. Mrs. Jernhjerte, right? I was not expecting you to be here.” He gave her a deep bow, no matter the issues that might come from her. Which there is a lot. He was raised in a culture that always meant placing women above him and for them to be treated with highest respect.

The strange woman looked at him curiously, looking around awkwardly then back up at him. She didn’t think this far ahead clearly, but an idea formed in her head. “Follow me, I have a gift.” Without even waiting, she turned on her heel to start walking out the side exit of the hall. Her hands resting behind her back and under her cape to hide the fact she is unsure what to do with them.

The prince looked behind him, seeing his sister and brother-in-law still being preoccupied with the two other Mkænian leaders. Scratching the back of his head he finally followed after the MSLF leader, guards still keeping an eye where he was just in case she did something stupid.

Quick opening of the door, and a very awkward long silence. Well at least no voice, the heavy boots of the Ny’Mkæn was most certainly heard as she stepped across the concrete and the reinforcement of guards following them. The guards were curious if she would be doing something stupid. As they walked across the path, going through the park and various buildings around them. Finally reaching a special parking lot for VIP, one made where no reporter could possibly get a photo in from the outside and security was at it most heightened. The door to the interior parking lot was opened, by another of the Kaldrbuthian guards and followed them in. Now with seven heavily armed, well trained royal guards following the Kelf prince and the kitsune socialist.

Her car was actually quite lovely, being a Gyllir hybrid sports car she privately collectivized from a former Atalandian officer. Two kemonomimi soldiers gave a salute to her as she approached them. For the first time in several, very painfully long moments she spoke up. “I was planning on giving this to your mother as a gift, but I will give it to you instead in light of our new friendship.”

‘Friendship?’ The prince thought to himself confused with the guards behind him looking at each other with equal confusion.

With that, the two socialists soldiers looked at each other weirdly but accepted her order. Opened up the back of the truck to the car, dragging out a badly beaten elven man. Stripped down to his underwear and covered in all matter of wounds. Brand across his chest, stating his name ‘William Hovland’ and his sin ‘Kaldrbuthian Republican Front’s Acting-President.’ She stepped next to Hovland, cupping his chin and forcing the barely breathing man to look up at the prince.

One of her soldiers spoke up, “We got ‘em good boss.”

She easily replied. “That we did.” She gave a wide smile towards the prince, either looking approvingly or looking for approval from him.

Askil was utterly shocked seeing the KRF leader, hardly able to even speak a word. “I-” He began to speak before being pulled away from her by one of his guards, as the other guard immediately stepped forward separating the two. Before he could even make a statement he was dragged back into the hall, and for the MSLF leader’s disappointment away from her.

She looked towards one of her soldiers. “Should I have put a bow on him?”

The other soldier gave a shrug. “I can run down to the store and buy some ribbons boss. Maybe some balloons?”

“Nah, not balloons. We would have to tie those onto him and it would just be a hassle to have to do that while tying a bow on him.” The other soldier commented back.

The colonel spoke up finally. “Ribbon yes, and maybe some wrapping paper. So he could open it up like a gift? No, no wrapping paper would be just as annoying. Just the ribbon.”

The soldier gave a salute. “Yes Ma’am, I can go get the ribbon… Maybe I should also get like one of those fancy umm… What are those things they put on their faces.”

“A mask?” The other man questioned.

“No, I know they’re masks but don’t they have a special name for them?”

“That is enough. We are taking him under custody.” One of the royal guards said, stepping forward and forcefully pulling the KRF leader up to his feet, being far from gentle in her treatment of him. Though for the leader, seeing the royal guards felt like a gods sent compared to what they had to deal with earlier. The other guards stood in between the MSLF soldiers and the leader, as two royal guards dragged Hovland out of view. With silence soon following as a slight bit of tension grew.

Only one of the guards spoke up. “…You know I usually just buy a boy wine bottle If I want to impress them with a gift.”

“Ny’Roe-” Ny’Mkæn couldn’t even finish the order before he spoke up.

“Right away boss!” He shouted, already full blown running out of the parking lot building passing the royal guards.

The other soldier gave a salute to the colonel. “I will clean up the car boss!”

Ny’Mkæn gave a proud smile towards them, placing her hands behind her back as she started to walk back towards the hall.

A red haired kitsune lady dressed in a black and white dress uniform looked over at the large crowd gathered in front of her, she had a bright smile on her lips as she stood on top of her podium. She was currently alone on the large lectern that had been prepared for this occasion, but soon enough she was joined by several others. “Today, is gonna mark a big day for this city. As your mayor, as someone who for years fought to promote our people’s culture and way of life. I can finally say that the day we finally have been waiting for is here.” She spoke with a clear, loud and excited tone as she spoke into her microphone. “Soon, the blue and gold flag of South Mkæniszna will be lowered. In its place we will host a unified Mkæniszna flag, one of the darkest blues and grays. Soon we’ll be united.” A loud applause came from the crowds, almost deafening the poor mayor. Who had to signal with her hands that the crowds had to relax. “But before we do that, it is only right that we mark this day by thanking the folks that made this possible to begin with.” With that she signaled once more with her hands, this time for the guards to bring in the guests they brought for the ceremony.

Soon enough the guests of honor walked up the stairs to the lectern, with a large applause given to the six guests as they did. With the old Mkænian prime minister dressed in his gray brewmaster kimono walking up first. With him needing help from a guard as he walked up the stairs. Right behind him was none other than Crown Princess Astrid, who gave a wave to the audience and a polite smile. Right behind her was the famous and heroic Ny’Akide leader, dressed still in his camouflage uniform though this time with no beret to cover his short dark brown hair. His large stature with a long scar on his right cheek gave him an intimidating presence even in spite of his attempt to look more friendly as he gave a small wave to the crowd. In heavy contrast to him there was Prince Ny’Andriz, the Crown Princess’s husband who was ever the darling of Mkænborg. The Prince was almost jumping with each step he took, his brown kitsune tail swaying wildly side to side as he followed after the rest. Giving an enthusiastic wave to the crowd as he got on the top. Behind him was the Crown Princess’s brother, Prince Askil, who like his sister gave a polite wave to the crowd smiling as he did so. While he tried to ignore the far more controversial figure among them six who was just staring at the back of his head. Making him believe she must hate his ponytail. The last person to walk up the stairs, who immediately drew silence from the crowds and a few gasps as they saw her was of course Ny’Mkæn. Leader of the very controversial MSLF. If the controversial leader even noticed or cared about the shocked looks from the crowds she did not show it. Instead her focus seemed continuously to be on the Royal Family.

The Mayor gave a small cough into her fist as she gestured to both the kelf prince and the Akuan Socialist leader to take steps to the further back of the lectern. To allow the Prime Minister and Crown Princess to take center stage. With her gesturing to the Ny’Zekkial to step forward. After a half minute the aging prime minister finally stepped forward with help from a guard. “It is good to finally be allowed to visit this wonderful city.” He looked over the crowd with a warm smile as he spoke into the microphone. “The city where many of our brave resistance fighters trained and lived in. The city in which our culture prospered in spite of the oppression we faced elsewhere. It would be foolish for us to not have this city and this region with us as we establish our nation. Our dreams started here, and with your help we finally achieved our dreams.” He got a large applause from the crowd, with the crowd yelling out in agreement and yelling out praises. “We couldn’t done it without this city, but we also couldn’t have done it without the help from our great allies in Kaldrbuth and their Crown.” He looked over his shoulder towards the Crown Princess giving her a wide smile. “With the permission and support from the Kaldrbuthian Crown, our nation can finally be free. Thanks to them we ensured we no longer are under Einarist oppression.” He gestured with his hand for the Crown Princess to get closer, with her now standing next to him. “As such this day does not only mark our full liberation, it marks the start of the fraternal relationship between our two people. Therefore I would like to announce that as a result of the Crown Princess’s never ending effort to push for our interests in the halls of power. That she will be known as the Royal Guardian of Mkæniszna!” He gave Astrid a pat on the shoulder squeezing it as he kept his warm smile. He was gonna make a small personal comment of thanks towards the Crown Princess, but the large applause and cheers from the audience interrupted him. Instead the old brewmaster just signaled with his head for her to get on the podium. With him getting help from a guard to get off.

Astrid was not surprised by the announcement, it was something that the prime minister had told her and the rest before the speech. Yet one could not help but feel taken aback by the large scale of approval from the audience. It took a good few minutes for them to relax after she got on the podium. “If it is a role that the Mkænian people seem me worthy to fit, then it is one I will be determined to fulfill to my fullest.” She looked back towards her husband, who just gave her a big thumbs up before clapping his hands. All with the wide excited smile on his face that she just loved. “As long as I hold my breath, I will ensure that my country will support Mkæniszna to the fullest of its capacity.” She put her attention back towards the crowd, straightening her back as she took a stronger hold on the podium. “We have been condemned, we have been told to withdraw by several nations. But let me make this clear. The Concordian President can demand our withdrawal until her throat hurts. We are not leaving. Not until the dream of a free Mkæniszna is accepted in Veridal. Until East Atlalandr ends its bombings, we will stay here. With ever improving air defences, with ever more funding to Mkæniszna’s rebuilding. Even If the entire world turns their back on us, you have my promise, my oath that we will not turn our back on you.” Her voice was clear, filled with pure confidence and determination. “We are with you to the very end.”

Soon enough the entire audience exploded into a cheer and applause. With all the people on top of the lectern raising a fist in the sky in support of Mkæniszna. With the mayor signaling to a royal guard to host the flag of Mkæniszna.

And like that, the dark blue and gray flag of Mkæniszna was now flying from Ny’Mkænby to Mkænborg. Mkæniszna now had both central and its southern parts unified into a free and independent state. Though for some, it was not fully unified. It still lacked its northern and eastern parts. Though even Ny’Mkæn couldn’t help but smile.

It was a good start for true unification after all.