A Red House of Cards

Teplar System Urth
21

6th January, 2025
Veridal, East Atlalandr

“You’ve looked better.” Elisa said in a cold tone as she glanced up from her desk, as she held out a document to her puppet president. She was dressed in her typical black and white suit, with a striking red tie that matched her dark eyes. Her long black hair behind her back. Showing off her face, a young face but one that seemed to have aged rapidly. Her eyes showed how tired she was even if her posture and voice did not.

Said puppet president did not respond to her comment, instead simply grabbing the document. His blue eyes looked over each line, before looking down on the picture that was accompanying it. Immediately his legs wavered, as he sat down with a heavy thump on the small couch that Elisa had in the office. Like her he wore a suit, but said suit was a mess, same with the man in question. Lost seems the energetic candidate she knew in the presidential campaign. Instead in front of her was a man with a red brown tie that wasn’t fully on, with a white shirt that while clean was just messily put on him. His brown hair being a mess as well, no longer well groomed. Instead sticking all around. He was completely quiet as he sat there, looking down on the floor carpet below. His face was somber and frustrated, quiet muttering coming from him. His foot tapped rapidly on the floor below. His hand holding tightly to a document.

“Mr. Tårnet, I understand you need a moment too grief. So I won’t hold you fo-”

“Grief?” He sneered out in a quiet tone as he glanced towards her direction. “That terrorist bitch killed my sister, I don’t need to grieve, I want to make all Mkæniszna into a crater.” He put to the side the document, as he began rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Elisa let out a sigh as she heard him speak. “MSLF didn’t do it, the AFA had claimed responsibility for it and we executed those who were involved.” She kept her eyes focused on the president, her tone not losing its stoicism and coldness. “You know we don’t have the ability to fight another war, Tårnet. Our forces stretch thin dealing with the Darwalacs in Soport. That does not even mention all the minor bombings done by White Ravens and the AFA. Mayors have been assassinated, Tårnet. We cannot afford a war.”

“They are getting supplied by the MSLF, Våld!” The president stood up for a moment, glaring down at her. His rageful blue eyes meet her cold red ones. “We are basically already at war with them! If we convince Mrs. Tod-”

“The UCCS not gonna help us, Tårnet. Be real.” She spoke sharply, as she kept eye contact. Her lips turning to a small frown, her eyes judging almost the very spirit of the man in front of her. As a moment they just glared at each other until eventually he would sit down. Him looking away in annoyance. “Our position is precarious, we cannot be driven by emotion alone.”

“Wasn’t this entire coup driven by pure emotion…” The man muttered under his breath, his frown still clear on his lips. “Out of our ambitions, fear and anger. It’s all become such a massive mistake.”

“Be careful with what you saying, Mr. President.” Her tone became even colder as she said that, her arms placed on top of her desk as she leaned her head against one of her hands. Her red eyes kept its chilling stare at him. “The last thing we need is our government breaking ranks. You are useful, do not misunderstand me, Tårnet. But you are not irreplaceable.”

While Elisa could not read his thoughts, she did notice the small shaking of his hands as they became fists. His eyes glancing up from the floor and towards her, clear anger in his eyes. For a moment she had to wonder if she had to call in guards and deal with him at once. But instead he let out a heavy sigh, the tenseness that was in his shoulders relaxed and slumped. Gone were the fists as his fingers stretched out. “I… understand, Mrs. Våld.” He spoke up in an exhausted tone, clear that whatever energy he had to argue with her must be gone.

Elisa for her part just gave him a nod as she pulled one of the documents on her table closer to her, paying her attention towards that instead. Specifically about a military report of a shootout between suspected AFA members and the army in Sortborg. Though she stopped reading her report when she heard the president stand up from the couch and began stepping away. But her eyes didn’t move from the paper. “It may not mean much, but I am sorry for what happened to your sister. Erik.” Her tone was still stoic, she didn’t necessarily mean what she said. But she knew it was the right thing to say.

“…Thank you, Elisa. But… unless you’re planning to kill the bitch who did it. It’s just words.” She recognised that his voice was growling, a rage that was well hidden all things considered. The slight growl that was in it being low enough, almost hard to catch but she did so. With soon enough clear hard footsteps following, and harsh closing of her door. Not a slam, he paid enough respect to her to not do that, but one that still had a bit of force in it.

She let out her own heavy sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, as she thought back to her conversation with Pierre. As the damn Côtois leader had predicted things did become worse. Not full uprising just yet, more just spordiacic ones. After the protests were crushed, that is. Still it was… concerning. More so with the fact her own president had called their coup a mistake.

She couldn’t help but look up from her desk and towards the door, narrowing her eyes for a moment. Was she the only one who got Pierre’s offer? Or were there others who were reached out to?

_

12th January, 2025
Veridal, East Atlalandr

“General Marertitar, what’s your analysis of the situation?” Elisa said as she leaned over the wooden table, she was in a disclosed meeting together with the leading generals of her country and the head of the Atlalandian Republicanist Intelligence (ARI). The wooden table is a long one with her at the end, with General Dasker Marertitar on her left and Intelligence Director Sylva Pærla on her right.

“It’s bad but not unmanageable. While a lot of those AFA terrorists are veterans, they are usually ones who served as militia and national guard members.” The brown hair elven general spoke with a confident though serious tone, dressed in black ceremonial uniform with red highlights. With a golden hammer and axe pin on his right chest, the very symbol of Einarism. Specifically the Våldist kind. “While they know how to use a gun, most have never seen real combat until now. They are easy to deal with once they face an enemy who knows what they are doing.”

Elisa was almost about to let out a small sigh of relief at that but before she could speak up her intelligence director had to do so beforehand to add an ‘but’ element to that analysis.

“Though this has meant the army has moved our most well trained troops guarding our western border to deal with these internal threats. Leaving us exposed to an attack from the West.” Sylva gave a glance towards the general, her green eyes narrowing for a moment. The intelligence director being an elderly woman, around her late 60s which was quite old for East Atlalandian standards. Wearing a suit similar to Elisa. “Should Tilmerian intelligence be correct, the Western Royalists have mobilised some of their reserves. They have over 100k troops gathered around our borders. If they were to invade-”

“They won’t.” Dasker spoke up in a dismissive tone, leaning back into his chair taking a sip from his coffee cup. “They may be stronger than us militarily, but they will face almost over half a million men the moment mobilisation is declared. They do not have the capabilities to occupy all of us.”

“Nor would any such invasion be looked kindly upon by Tilmeria. Combined we easily out number them.” Elisa spoke up in support of the general, her red eyes looking over towards the older woman as she leaned over on the table.

“May I remind you two that our last fight ended up with a huge majority of our air force destroyed? Tilmeria didn’t come out of it nicely either.” Sylva spoke in a harsh tone. “We are exposed right now, If we are to continue using our most professional troops to deal with our insurgents. Then we need to contact our allies.”

Elisa let out a small sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. She didn’t disagree, but last time her talks with few nations she could genuinely call allies to her government didn’t go fully well. She thought she could rely on Minerva Todd’s government in the UCCS, but… that seemed to have been a mistake on her part. Especially with Todd withdrawing her military from Báslan now as well…

“I’ll contact Mrs. Todd and Mr. Northern. If we get the Ellsvisse Accords to fully back us, we might finally get in.”

Dasker rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Do not hold your breath, Mrs. Våld. Todd doesn’t seem to have the same backbone as her processors had.”

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30th January, 2025
Atlaborg, West Atlalandr

The office of the West Atlalandian prime minister has in the past always been a room treated with respect and honour. It was afterall an office filled with history, one where many of the Kingdom’s most respectable statesmen had called their place of work. The building had been built in 1707, and had remarkably survived the civil strife and wars the Atlalandian nation had been unfortunate victims of. Sure the building itself has been renovated and maintained to modern stances making it far from exactly the same as it was all the way back then. But the main architectural substance has remained the same. With the office’s dark yet well decorated walls with symbology of tree branches and plants all around it. Even having a chandelier hanging from above. With the office’s mahogany desk having golden handles for the drawers, gold that has been mined from the country’s mountain ranges. Though the prime minister knew that much similarly how it was now, back then most that gold often found itself sent elsewhere to then become melted into something usable. The Kingdom having to rely on others for metal work.

Which unfortunately for prime minister Nikkolas Bjarnvikdal was part reason why his coalition partner was not treating this room with the respect it deserved. By ignoring the dependencies their Kingdom relied on.

“This is our chance damn it!” Nikkolas’s desk had a strong fist slammed against it, causing much of his pens to topple over. He couldn’t help but let out a sigh as he looked at the large man in front of him. An burly man with short bit messy blonde hair, and a thick beard. Wearing a thick black sweater that even then couldn’t hide the broad shoulders of said man. Frankly he was a military man, not a politician and far from a diplomat. But unfortunately Nikkolas was pressured to make this mountainous man into his foreign minister.

“I have already agreed to the mobilisation of more troops along our Eastern border, Mr. Henriksøn.” Nikkolas said with a sigh as he got out of his office chair, crouching down to pick up some of the pens that fell down to the floor. In almost stark contrast to his foreign minister, Nikkolas was a much lighter man. Tall, but slim. Groomed hair and clean shaved face. A man who looked older than he was with wrinkles and grayness that took more of his once dark brown hair. Arguably lacking the same energy as the man in front of him despite the fact said man was a few years his senior. With Nikkolas being dressed with a gray dress jacket and light blue buttoned shirt underneath.

“What’s the point of mobilising our men If we’re not gonna use them, Bjarnvikdal?” Henriksøn said, crossing his arms as he glared down at the shorter man. Raising an eyebrow as his tone turned to one of further annoyance.

“Same thing as always. To posture, and also to actually ensure said instability in the East does not spill over to the West.” Nikkolas let out another tired as he spoke again, standing now up straight as he put the pens in place. “I’ve already gotten enough concerned phone calls from Varg over the fact we have mobilised 50k men from our reserves, having an active duty force of 200k men at our exposal right now. The majority of which mobilised at the border with the Eastern Socialists.”

“Yes and with said force we can easily overwhelm them right now.” Much to Nikkolas annoyance his foreign minister was not taking the phone calls as seriously as he likely should have, as he instead grabbed his kettle to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Plus lets not forget Varg is in an coalition with the Rosia Sannadatur. I’m certain you’ve heard some legislation she pushed for, I hardly think we need to be concerned about losing support from Osfjord. They are all happy that we are finally dealing with those socialists.”

“We are talking about the same country who is allied with Durakia and the Federation, Mr. Henriksøn.” Nikkolas spoke up as he crossed his arms, giving a slightly annoyed look towards his foreign minister.

Which for a moment was quiet as Henriksøn just took a small sip from his cup as he thought about what to say next. “In fairness. We are also allied to Durakia.”

“Then that even better reason to not go militarily adventuring into the East you numbskull.” Nikkolas muttered under his breath as he rubbed the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “We cannot risk alienating our most important ally. As much as I agree that a successful military operation could help us in the election, a major diplomatic setback can also ruin us. If you want my support, than I suggest you at least convince Mrs. Sannadatur to be on our side.”

For a moment he had thought he might almost dissuade the nationalist minister away from his military plans. To recognise the folly of it. But instead he just got a strong nod as Henriksøn finished the rest of his coffee. “Understood, I do have a meeting with her next week anyways over getting more grants from the NCEF. So I can bring up the idea to her then.”

Nikkolas could only sigh at that as he sat back into his chair, shaking his head. “Do not make me regret this, Henriksøn.”

_

6th February, 2025
Osfjord, Norgsvelset

“While our budget is a little bit restrained, the strength of West Atlalandr’s economy is of natural great importance to the interests of Norgsveldet.” Rosia explained in a calm tone as she looked over some of the financial reports that the West Atlalandian foreign minister had just given. Giving a small nod as she pushed the papers back to him. She was wearing an expensive outfit, as well typical for her, wearing designer black dress pants with an white buttoned top that was in contrast. With a green brown party logo of a tree being pinned to the collar. “If I remember correctly you said there was another matter you wanted to discuss, no?”

“Quite.” Henriksøn cleared his throat as he took hold of the papers. The large man was now wearing a typical dress suit, though instead of black and white, it was black and purple to fit his party’s colours. His blonde hair has also been groomed back. While it was typical formality he also wanted to look wealthier than he was, even ensuring his silver Witcain wrist watch was a bit more display by pulling his sleeves up more. At least he wanted to impress her, hoping it would help make this all easier. He took a moment to find a way to bring this all up. “As you likely have been informed during your own government’s cabinet meetings, the current situation in East Atlalandr is deteriorating. With both separatists like the Darwalac group doing active insurgency in most Northern part there, all while the White Ravens doing their minor militant attacks in several cities. This not mentioning the AFA d-”

“I’ve been informed.” The elven woman simply held her hand up to quiet the foreign minister, her blue eyes coldly analysing him for a moment before speaking again. “All that seems more matter to bring up to the foreign minister or to Varg himself. I’m not certain why you brought this up to me. If this needs to be discussed then I can call them up to arrange a meeting over this.”

“Well. My government is currently discussing how to react to the current chaos in the East. With my party promoting a limited military incursion into it to stabilise most volatile bordering territories, mainly the Northern part of the border.” He took out another folder handing it over to her, giving her a moment to read it through. “While this all be more matter for foreign and defence ministries to look through, it is in belief of both me and Mr. Bjarnvikdal that your coalition partners would not be as enthusiastic to this operation as your party could be.” Rosia did not speak up at that, her cold blue eyes still analysing the contents of the folder. As such Henriksøn took a moment to continue. “It is, with this in mind, that I was hoping that when this military operation begins, you’d have our back and try to convince Varg and the rest of the cabinet to… not necessarily back us.”

“But simply look the other way, no?” Rosia said in a cold tone as she looked up from the folder putting one leg over the other as she looked at him with almost the same level of analysistic attitude.

Henriksøn gave a nod as confirmation as he leaned over. “I was also hoping that you’d help keeping this secret in the meantime as well. We do not want any leaks about our plans.”

Rosia gave a nod of her own, though a smaller one as she kept analysing him. “I can agree with that, though I think you’d need to have me contemplate the actual plan itself. Depends if you are actually there to restore order or not.” She gave back the folder as she leaned into her chair.

“Well… we still have an hour left for our meeting. I’m glad to look over the details.” Henriksøn couldn’t help but smile as he felt relief going over him. Feeling confident that he may actually get the war he has wanted for a long long while.

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2nd March, 2025
Osfjord, Norgsveldet

Bjørn Varg let out a heavy sigh as he took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he leaned into his office chair. “Thank you two, for the update… You can both leave for now. Though Mr. Månberg keeps threatening the Tilmerians to not directly intervene, and keeps being in contact with our allies. Our priority remains deescalation. Use everything we can to end this without burning bridges.” He looked up from his office desks towards his minister of defence and his minister of foreign affairs. The two being a pair of raven haired elven men with golden eyes, could almost be mistaken as brothers despite not being so.

“Agreed. Though I must say I’m not exactly looking forward to having another conversation with that Henriksøn fellow. The Atlalandians chose a thug rather than a diplomat to represent them in international affairs.” Jern Månberg said as he shook his head, the foreign minister’s long black hair was almost as a complete contrast to his extremely pale skin that almost looked like snow. With his black and white suit helping make that contrast look even clearer.

“Then in all due honesty he should be treated as one. They went in expecting us to support them, let them fight this on their own.” The second elf spoke up, an older looking elven man with dark braided hair and a thick beard with a small scar near his eye. Being of more tanner skin than the foreign minister next to him. “Though I made my opinion clear earlier, Mr. Varg.”

“That you did. Do not worry I will take consideration of cutting intelligence support. Though for now it remains off the table, Trør.” Varg put his glasses back on as he read through a joint diplomatic statement made by several nations on the Lapérousian peninsula. From Eyjaria, Helslandr, Nacresia, Pledonia and most importantly, the Federation. All urging him to do more to stop Atlalandr. With Pierre having gone as far to threaten sending aid to the East, and Bardsen being pushing for canceling the NCEF grants and investments meant for Atlalandr. That not to even mention Colasunu has also made his opposition to the military operation clear. “Before you go Månberg. How optional is the idea of having North Concordian Bank freeze grants and investments meant to Atlalandr?”

The two ministers were about to leave the office but stopped in their tracks, with the foreign minister raising an eyebrow at his prime minister before tilting his head thinking about it. “While you’d have to talk with Mrs. Sannadatur about the details of the financial packages the NCEF has been meaning to give them. One very much could do it, though it would be a rather drastic decision and would be a clear contradiction of our official policy of neutrality in this conflict. At least if we publicly state that the freezing of these packages is a result of Atlalandian actions.”

Varg tapped his fingers on the table being quiet as he thought over the possibility, thinking of ways to implement it without contradicting their official stance. “Would it be possible to push such a policy without contradicting our neutrality?” He raised an eyebrow at his foreign minister.

“There are always ways to find loopholes over these things, Varg. It’s just a matter of finding the ones that are convincing.” Månberg held the door of the office open enough to let the defence minister out. “I will advice getting in contact with Mrs. Sannadatur to find out a way of halting those financial packages.”

The Prime Minister gave a nod at that. “Thank you, that is all.” He grabbed hold of his coffee cup as the two ministers left his office. Taking a sip from it before he grabbed hold of his phone.

_

“I cannot say I agree with the idea, Varg. It’s hardly in our interests.” The Prime Minister had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes as he heard her say that. Taking off his glasses to clean them as the red haired elven woman in front of him looked down at him.

“Perhaps not financially, Rosia. But it is in our interest to keep this conflict from expanding.” Varg put on his glasses again as he looked up at her, his elbows on top of his desk as he matched the finance minister’s cold calculating look. “With every town and village the Atlalandians occupy-”

“Liberating.”

“…Liberating from the Einarists, the chances of Tilmeria joining increases as well. If they were to join we will have to begin to make assessments to join as well. And if we do, then chances are that the UCCS will be considering the same.” He let out a small sigh but kept his eye contact with her. “We are talking about the real possibility of a wider continental war, Rosia. It becomes only a matter of time until Tilmeria begins questioning if we are bluffing or not.”

“And what signal do we send our allies If we turn our back against the Atlalandians?” Rosia put a hand on top of the Prime Minister’s desk leaning on it as she kept looking downwards at him.

“That we’re holding them accountable. Something many of them expect us to.” Varg turned the dossier he had on his desk around, letting her read it over as he continued on. “There is a growing number of allies calling for Atlalandian withdrawal. My suggestion is hardly my own, it was Mr. Bardsen’s idea. Though he wanted to cancel those packages.”

The elven woman’s eyes would carefully look through the dossier, reading through the joint statement made between those five Lapérousian nations. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before a small sigh left her. Not saying a word for several good seconds before she finally spoke. “We are talking about investments and grants valued in the tens of billions krone, Varg.” She spoke up in a more professional tone. “Money invested into industries and resources tightly integrated with our own.”

“And as I said. It may not be financially in our interest, but it is politically.” Varg leaned back into his chair, taking a more relaxed stance as he noticed Rosia’s own stance being one of professionality rather than opposition. “We have a duty to hold them accountable when they break international law, and threaten the peace.”

“In all fairness Prime Minister the Atlalandian Civil War technically never ended.”

This time Varg couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes it was just a cease fire, but that does not give the Atlalandians the right to start it up again. Especially not over any supposed justification for a military or security ‘stabilisation’ mission.”

Rosia tapped her fingers at his desk as she was quiet for a moment. “Well, If we are to withhold these NCEF investments and grants to them. Then it becomes matter to word it in a way that lends this to a still more neutral position on the conflict itself.” She turned around to pace slightly back and forth, before turning to face him again. “We could always argue the necessity of ensuring the grants and investments aren’t being wasted. A good enough excuse to indefinitely delay it.”

“Would that excuse work?” Varg raised an eyebrow at her, giving her a questionable look.

“Investments and grants get revaluated all the time over concerns about the potentiality of waste. As long as we are able to get the council on our side we find ways to withhold it for now.” Rosia’s tone kept to its cold hearted professionality, though the Prime Minister could sense there being a hint of a smile on the very corners of her lips. “And the argument of financial responsibility might be enough to get some of our more monetary focused partners to back it.”

Varg let out a heavy sigh at that as he gave a small nod. “I certainly hope you’re correct on the later part, Rosia. I certainly do.” He said in a tired tone, already preparing himself to be mentally exhausted in dealing with the council once more.

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(OOC: Join post with Norgs!)

10th March, 2025
Vanith, South Hills

One would think the President of South Hills had more power, but the opposite was true. Enshrined in the nation’s foundational texts read, “The President shall be advisory to the Commander-in-Chief of the Forces charged with Concordian defense.” Such a description had been met with legal challenge after legal challenge from Presidents past, Minerva Todd the most recent to attempt to expand her office’s scope. Allio Hansen, a trusted comrade to Minerva, was nominated by her for his shared values and beliefs, but most importantly his willingness to align with her decisions regarding military force. Tiervan was not one of these cases. Allio ardently considered Tiervan’s existence, and the military base found within it, as vital to the security of South Hills. Todd knew better. The cost of propping up this friendly yet ideologically opposed nation was beyond its uses. It was time to let go.

“Tiervan has become a nuisance, Allio. We can’t keep investing billions into it.”

“That base is a cornerstone of our security framework. A [i]key[i] cornerstone, Minerva. What you’re suggesting is to collapse that framework.”

“Realign that framework. We once had a period of long peace on Concord, and it certainly had nothing to do with Tiervan. It had everything to do with diplomacy and a shared commitment between us and Norgsveldet. Cooperation is in our best interest, Allio.”

“I’m not convinced, Minerva. I’m not ordering that base to be removed.”

Heavy silence enveloped the room.

“Alright, then. I’ll stop asking you.”

“It’s settled, then?” Allio pressed.

“Settled as the thousand-year house.”

Later…

Todd would let out a sigh as she grabbed her phone, contemplating for a few moments before calling someone putting her phone on speaker as she leaned into her office chair. Few seconds, then minutes of silence passed by before finally someone spoke from the other end.

“Mrs. Todd, once more I have the pleasure to be speaking with you.” Varg’s tired low voice would speak from the other end, it being clear that the Norgsveltian Prime Minister in question must have been rather busy as of late. “I will naturally assume this about the border conflict in Atlalandr, no?”

“Well, Mr. Varg, I must say that it’s regarding a much more contentious matter that’s been simmering under the surface.”

Small chuckle would leave the Prime Minister at that comment. “It is hard to imagine a more contentious topic than the largest conflict on Concord since the 60s, but I am glad to discuss this other matter.”

“Touché, Mr. Varg. Though I’m certain you’d agree, Tiervan is almost equally as contentious. As you likely know Tiervan has been a thorn in my diplomatic side since I’ve had the honor of serving as President. Domestically unpopular, diplomatically hypocritical, immensely expensive on the taxpayer, and certainly difficult for my administration to reverse course on due to the economic involvement of South Hills corporations. I need an out, Varg, and I believe you can help me in that.”

For a moment there was a long pause, with the Prime Minister not immediately responding. Almost causing the President to wonder if the call had accidently ended, until Varg finally spoke again. “Well, you will equally know that I loathe the Tieresh government from the bottom of my heart. And has made that sentiment clear. So trust me, I will gladly help you if it means that draconic administration longer gets any support.” His voice was very much stern as it spoke.

Minerva spent a moment mustering up the words. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine. A deal of a diplomatic nature that satisfies certain ongoing disputes and controversies. Tiervan for Atlalandr.”

“I think we have to talk in more precise ways in this case.” Varg was quick to reply back this time. “I’m going to assume that you’re suggesting that your military will withdraw its support to Tiervan, and let’s say… give my nation more freeway to enforce the compliance to the past treaties. And in return, you’d want me to do all that I can to force the Atlalandians to not just stop advancing but fully withdraw from East Atlalandr?”

“You hit the nail on the head, Varg. Such an agreement is not in the interest of my military leadership. He’s brought up many points, but I believe this quid pro quo will help ease tensions and give us a chance to start anew. Old administrations sought out to expand the economic might of the Concordian people, but lost sight of their values in the process. My nation is growing stronger, Varg, and we need to hold true to values if we are to become a tone-setter in the international community. We need to be partners in Concord, not rivals.”

“…I do believe there is more of a benefit if we do more to increase the cooperation on our continent, and avoid any further instability. With the rise of conflicts and instability involving East Atlalandr, to the Báslan Crisis. We are heading towards a new Cold War Mrs. Todd.” Varg’s tone was, while stern and professional, seemed to have a bit of comfort there. “Especially as I have a wish to solidify and strengthen NCEF for the rising hostility we’re facing from Packilvania.” There was a small sigh that left the Prime Minister before he spoke up again. “Though I cannot fully promise I will be successful in making my allies in Atlaborg to withdraw. Their government has shown to be rather… foolishly stubborn. But if given the time, I think we both can pressure them to back down.”

“I can certainly muster up some diplomatic support to assist in the matter of Atlalandr if you have the need. Favors and concessions are where true peace is earned.”

“If Bjarnvikdal’s government turns out to be too stubborn, I will call you for your help.” Varg’s voice was calm as it spoke up calm, less stern and more friendlier. “We both get rid of these diplomatic thorns through this deal.”

“Then I believe we have ourselves a deal. Let’s turn this new leaf and hope for a better Concord.”

“For a better Concord, Mrs. Todd.”

With that, the phone went dead. Her Norgsveltian counterpart was surprisingly willing to accept the exchange. Perhaps peace truly could return to Concord after all.

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14th March, 2025
Atlaborg, West Atlalandr

Nikkolas was sitting in his office in utter silence, his head in his hands as he thought about the situation he had now pushed his country in. And to be frank he couldn’t call the situation anything other than shit. Certainly his coalition partners and his generals tried to convince him otherwise, with all the reports about the successes the army was having on the ground with Sortborg already captured with minimum casualties and the Einarist forces retreating all alongside the Northern border it was not difficult to understand why. Even the public has been quite behind it, at least as long as they keep being successful, some because of the claimed reason of security. Others backed the war out of genuine belief that they may secure reunification. For a good few moments he was wrapped up behind that idea as well, even if in part because much such talk had been pushed by some of his ministers and generals. Afterall, hasn’t every single government prior to him also been hawkish about the need for reunification? To finally uniting the country that has been divided for almost six decades? To finally say the civil war that divided their nation was now finally over. He could be the one to finally fulfill that wish, that goal. He’d be a national hero for doing so. Yet…

Even he realized there were limits. Sure his people were behind him, his generals were behind him, his party was behind him in this. Yet the closest allies he had internationally weren’t. He knew they wouldn’t prior to the conflict itself, its exactly what he had told Henriksøn. That they’d risk alienating Norgsveldet, and now they had. With it tens billions of investments and grants had been held back. Which after pressure from his own and Henriksøn’s party forced them to withdraw their own support to aid programs. Which angered Norgsveldet even further. His phone call with Varg the day after the announcement of them no longer participating in financial and sapiant aid to Helslandr was less than pleasant to say the least.

Accusation of breaking NCEF cohesion and dividing it with his supposedly ‘foolish’ actions and the like. The phone call was a typical back and forth in that sense. He didn’t take the accusations lying down however. Afterall what legs could Varg stand on when it comes to NCEF unify when Norgsveldet was completely behind Kaldrbuth on Mkæniszna? Integral Atlalandian land was occupied not by godless Einarists and Republicanists this time, but by Akuan Socialists of all people. Yet Mkæniszna got recognised by their allies, much to their chagrin.

Yet didn’t make his country’s current diplomatic situation any matter, no matter how often he could point out the hypocrisy of others on this. He had been prime minister for almost eight years now, he wasn’t unused to it. Just frankly frustrated about the situation, feeling almost like he had aged by several years these last two weeks. He hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest in any of the recent days as a result. Day in and day out he dealt with new demands, new calls to withdraw. New threats of countries intervening on the behalf of the enemy, from Tilmeria to the Federation.

During the first week he rested well knowing Varg was holding them back, assuring things did not escalate. Even though that wasn’t an endorsement of their action, it at least gave somewhat the feeling their biggest ally would help them escape consequences. Now? He wasn’t as sure. Afterall if just one of them got involved they would be forced to withdraw and Varg has told him directly that any attempt to force reunification would force Norgsveldet to take an even harsher stance. Though his Norgsveltian counterpart was annoyingly vague about it. Nikkolas could at least make some assumptions that it could mean the leash on the Federation might be loosened even more. That was not something he wanted to find out about.

Though Nikkolas would not be too distracted with his own melancholic thoughts too much as the door to his office opened once more. Though this time it was not the hulking man that was his foreign minister, no this it wasn’t Henriksøn, instead it was an lean elven dark haired elven man with striking golden eyes that he knew held much wisdom. Though with the elf wearing a dark blue ceremonial army uniform, with golden buttons on it and with a ceremonial saber attached to his hilt, Nikkolas knew very much that a lot of the elf’s old wisdom was really on just one particular field. He let out a heavy sigh as he lifted his head from his hands to directly look towards the elven man in question.

“I’m assuming you here to give me another report about our stunning successes from the front, Mr. Branndalin?” He asked in an exhausted tone as he took a sip from his coffee cup as he raised an eyebrow towards the elven man. “You at least dressed like you’ve directly come from having a conversation with the general staff.”

“Well as Minister of War, I should likely be dressed to the part. No?” Branndalin said in a slightly playful tone as he took off his army cap to give the prime minister a bow out of respect. Before walking up to the desk. “But actually, I am here for another matter.”

“Minister of Defence, and I know you know that since that was changed even prior to your birth.” Despite having heard that joke from his defence minister a thousand times, Nikkolas couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle nonetheless. He took another sip from his cup before putting it down. “Another matter?”

“Yes, you see most of our reports seem to signify that the Einarists are even weaker than we thought they were.” Branndalin put his cap back on standing at attention with a hand behind his back. “They can’t fully mobilise their army, they’re paralyzed by such instability that if we expand our operations right now we could finally unify our country. They would not be able to stop us, sir.”

“Expanding it… you mean starting a new offensive down south?” Nikkolas felt bit unease at the idea, one which his defence minister seemingly noticed as he took the moment to grab a chair from the side room pulling it in front desk so he could sit down.

“If we mobilise even more of our reserves, and strike south right now. We can capture Frontborg at the same speed we have been going at right now. If not quicker.” The elf leaned forward looking directly into the prime minister’s eyes. “Nikkolas, we have a shot at finally unifying our country. If we capture Frontborg, Veridal will be open as well.”

“Which will force Tilmeria to intervene.”

“If they wanted to fight us, they would’ve done so already.” The elf did not let up on his determined look, his gold eyes not leaving Nikkolas for even a moment. “I know we are being condemned, I know we are facing push back diplomatically. But this is currently our only chance of unification. No one gone in on behalf of East Atlalandr, we are stronger than them on every metric and they are unstable. If we do not go further, we may risk the possibility of forever losing the chance to unify our country.”

Nikkolas let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, as he looked down at the desk. “I don’t know Jakop. We are already in hot water, Norgsveldet is turning more against this all. Our NCEF funding has been halted… how can I convince our people that this is all worth it?” He spoke in a exhausted tone.

“Unification was never going to be an easy process, Nikkolas. It was always going to have a price.”

There was a moment of silence as the prime minister sat there contemplating what his choices were. Was it all truly worth it? The threats from allies and partners in cutting support, to freeze their participation in crucial NCEF institutions. Institutions that have been the life line for Atlalandian prosperity, the reason behind their wealth and growth. The reason why their eastern brothers and sisters move west, in spite of all the socialist and republicanist propaganda. That not to even mention, how could he trust Jakop’s words to be true? Is this truly their only chance for unification, or is it just rhetoric to ease him into this. Ho-

“Nikkolas.”

His eyes blinked for a moment as he was shaken away from his thoughts, looking up towards the elven man. Though no longer was the elf sitting instead standing next to him with a hand on his shoulder, gone was the determined and serious look. Instead replaced with a smile with his golden eyes being much kinder.

“Friend, I fought during the civil war. I fought during those brutal years, years which only ended up with our nation divided. And for the first time in my life there is now an truly strong leadership, who has the opportunity to reunify our country. To unite the Atlalandian nation once more.” His tone though strong was respectful and warm. Much to the surprise of Nikkolas rarely having seen such genuinity from the elf. “You’ll be remembered forever if we succeed.”

The prime minister let out a sigh once more as he looked down at the desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought over it for a good minute. Before speaking up again. “…How many men do we need to mobilize?”

Though Nikkolas would not see it as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, his elven minister would have a small smirk curl up on his lips as a reaction to his words. As another stage has now been set.

26

20th March, 2025
Côtois Fleet - Outside of East Atatlandian’s Waters

The Norgsveltian Prime Minister’s helicopter was well insight of the marines below, being ready at a moment’s notice for a fantastic chance to recreate their ancestors’ moment in history, well moments in history. Despite the firm stance the federal government holds that it is not the Queendom of old color anew, either in culture or in its slightly politically convenient view of their history. The people onboard, particularly with the marines rather than the sailors hold true to some of the old legacies, one of which was burning Atatlandian capital to the ground no more than six times and by the gods or by Pepin they hope they can burn both Atatlandian’s capitals down again.

It was to some controversy that the Côtoise memes from Un Appli leaked onto the more world wide social media platforms. It was in good fun of course, but NNN reported here about Côtois humor breach contentment results and quite a few more eyes than normal looking towards the fleet threatening towards the subject of the memes. Rather popular one being pictures of rabbits overlaid on recent photos of ruins coming out of East Atatlandr with translated text reading ‘oops, did it again’ which did make sense to most of the world outside of the Ulvrikian world. Among other more tasteless forms of crude humor.

As the helicopter landed on the carrier, the marines in a display of unity, humor and future careers scrubbing latrines for the next six months began to hum a small tone. Though the officers quickly put a stop to it before the helicopter door opened up. Trying to at least make some impression that the Côtois didn’t just want to burn down as many Atatlandian capitals as if it was a professional sport.

Young Kemonomimi woman, wearing her own combat uniform, greeted the leader at the door. With the occasional glance behind her staring down a certain row of marines who looked a bit too cheerful when they stared at the Atatlandian coast.

“Gods I have forgotten how much I hated flying on helicopters.” Varg muttered in a mildly frustrated tone as he got off the helicopter, holding onto his bowler hat so it wasn’t blown away by the wind from the blades. The Prime Minister is dressed in a typical black and white suit, with a thick black coat over it. His dark blue tie swayed around as he already began walking past the kemonomimi woman. “Come on, show me where she is.” His voice was filled with frustration, not wanting to spend time with pleasantries at the current moment.

The woman gave a raised eyebrow, before turning about on her heel and catching up to him. Walking in front of him without saying a word. Though a small murmur and this brief silence was all that was required as a few of the marines, then a few more started to give an old Laperousian marching song. Their energy being plentiful in the assuming controlled chaos much to the ire of the young woman.

“Burn it down! Burn it Down!
Light the flaming crown to the traitors’ town!
Raise the pyres, strike the bells!
Send the Atalandians straight to Hel!”

The naval and marine officers quickly restored order after they got their chorus out of their system, Varg could only guess what sort of fun punishments awaited those chanters as soon he was out of ear shot.

The woman in front of him acted; she wasn’t greatly annoyed but the quiver on her eyebrow staring at the row of suspect marines showed more than enough. Speaking muttering under her breath. “Oh Odin’s fucking eye, now they learn to speak half-decent Norgsveltian.” She opened the door to enter the ship. Letting the minister go through first before stepping in soon after, closing the door behind her.

Varg took a final look behind his shoulder towards the marines before shaking his head and letting out a sigh, as he entered the ship. Finally being able to no longer have to hold his bowler hat as tightly. “Having met several marines during my time in Meremaa, they only learned it because they knew I’d come here.” He spoke up, his Nyveldian accent being quite noticeable.

“Unfortunately you would be very correct on that.” Her own accent blared as she spoke in Norgsveltian. “At least if they only did the chorus, their normal singing is far worse.” The officer cracked a smile, as they ascended up towards the Vice Director Chair’s office onboard the carrier. Giving a quick nod to the guards and the male secretary, opening the door to the office.

Mrs. Blanchet’s office for this whole lovely adventure was originally the admiral’s personal one as seen with pictures of a large family adoring the walls. As well a harpoon gun and a ship in the bottle, Blanchet having no-need of such personal affections. Having only brought her personal chair with her.

The old Kemonomimi admiral and political official sat at the other end of a large wooden desk. Her white hair outpacing her formally natural black roots, yet her face reminded as smooth as ever despite the hardships of the sea. Her blue eyes raised to meet the prime minister’s own pair. She spoke in flawless Norgsveltian, no trace of an accent in her words. “Forgive me if I don’t stand, but I just got out of surgery a few weeks ago and the doctors said I should be taking it easy for a short while.” She certainly didn’t look like a feeble old woman as her words mentioned. Her black fur cape wrapping around her shoulders, covering up her black and red uniform. “Take a seat and we can begin.”

“Makes me almost question your decision to be on a warship that is currently leading a large fleet that is outside Atlalandian waters.” The Prime Minister spoke still in an strained annoyed tone as he took off his black coat and hung it over the chair. Though despite his annoyance a small smile would creep on his lips. “Though it is hardly surprising knowing how you Côtois are, so it a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Blanchet, I have gotten quite a bit informed about you.” He would finally sit down at his seat, taking off his bowler hat revealing his short black hair as he put his hat on his lap. His face has a strong look to it, with his thick black mustache adding to his more serious expression. Despite the milder attempt to act friendly.

“We are on a mission of peace and securing, at least that is what Madame Pierre and I agreed to after all. Might as well go on a whale spotting tour while I’m recovering.” Mrs. Blanchet gave a smirk back to him, pouring herself a cup of tea. “Would you like some tea? As far as you heard things about me, I assure you everything that you heard about me that was good is completely true. Anything bad is simply a misunderstanding or slander.”

“Of course of course.” He said in mild amusement to the last part of her statement, giving a small eye roll as well. “I’m more of a coffee man myself, but I will hardly say no to a cup of tea.” He let out a small chuckle for a moment before speaking up again. “As much as I understand the need of making clear how serious the Federation is with its ultimatum, I must once more reiterate restraint.”

“We are nothing but restraining ourselves, we don’t need to add more fuel to the already destabilizing actions the West Atatlandians are taking. After all, there is a movement to restore democracy in East Atatlandr that the Western Atatlandians are threatening to destroy with their invasion. That movement very well will result in the people siding with the military coup and already justifying their paranoia of invasion.” Mrs. Blanchet poured a cup of tea before siding it over towards the prime minister. “If they don’t stand down, then we will unfortunately be forced to take drastic actions to assure democracy is restored in the east.”

“Which why I am asking for further restraint.” He grabbed his cup taking a small sip from it before putting it down again. His eyes being trained on the cup for a moment before looking up at her, his eyes narrowing for a moment. “The Tilmerians are already on the border with East Atlalandr troops ready to intervene on behalf of the Veridal regime. A Côtois intervention will only add extra fuel to the possibility of a larger continental war on Concord.” His voice was a bit slower to clarify the importance of the topic. “It is in best interest for all to avoid escalation, I welcome the Federation’s rather… unique of sending that point across to West Atlalandr, but I urge you to give us time to solve this with other avenues rather than force.”

“There are many things that are uniquely way to send a point, consider our whale watching tour to be one of them.” She raised her tea cup to her lips taking a sip from it before setting it back down. “As for Tilmeria they’re quite an interesting piece of this, are they not? I just spoke with their foreign minister and they’re just as concerned we are about this whole mess. No one wants to start a continental war but they have highlighted some valid concerns that have to be taken into consideration. It has been a real nasty year after all, their neighbor is currently in the process of a coup, revolution, secessionist crisis, election and all sorts of nonsense. Truly dreadful.” She kept her lighthearted tone and expression, not being phased by the whole seriousness of possible massive conflict brewing in their mists.

“Tilmeria’s concerns are noted but they are secondary to the larger concern of a co-”

“Noted is rather dismissive. I hope you don’t say that in front of the cameras now.” She kept up her coy attitude, as she took a longer sip from her cup. “Oh forgive me for interrupting you, please continue.”

There was a few seconds of silence before a sigh left his lips. “Look. As we speak there are already several diplomatic efforts to restrain West Atlalandr.” He took a small sip of his own cup before continuing on. “You likely already heard some of Eyjaria’s efforts to gather more Western Yasterian response to this. Their NCEF representative is pushing for suspending West Atlalandr’s voting privileges, and on my end I’ve discussed ways with Mrs. Todd on how to bring the matter to the IF. I simply just want to avoid these…” He took a moment to find the right term. “Showing the promise of your word.”

“Promise of our word, I’m not the sender. Just a humble messenger of the Côtoise people to West Atlalandr. As for the NCEF discussion, I have certainly heard some passing whispers of it including the Valoasans trying to defend them.” She refilled her cup, setting the kettle back onto its hot plate. “As for diplomatic efforts, well there is an old Laperousian phrase. Spilled blood cannot be repaid in words, only in silver or a pair of eyes.” Mrs. Blanchet looked towards the hanging map on the wall. “Which comes first is not up to me of course, but.” Her coy attention returned to her fellow old person. “I am happy to be of service, to be the deliverer of either forms of payment. Though it may exchange a few hands before it arrives.”

“Yet at some point the spilling of blood has to end, and one side has to accept they cannot pay up from what has been spilled.” He put down the cup with a noticeable thud as he did so. “Shall it come to the moment in which the West Atlalandian leadership has lost all sense of rationality and in its place preferring madness instead, then we will on our end make clear they are alone in it. Until then. Wait.” He narrowed his eyes for a moment on her. “I know you Côtois can be rather zealous in defending what you think may be right. Some that many may find admirable, but in this instance. Do keep your hand away from the holster.”

Mrs. Blanchet leaned her elbow on the table, leaning towards the prime minister. Keeping up her playful attitude regardless of this tense situation. “Mr. Varg, it is just a phrase. I didn’t mean much more than what was written on the tin. Thanks for the compliment but again I just have to assure you. My hand is nowhere near my holster, but who knows where my pistol has gone.” She leaned back into her chair, tilting her head to the side. “Besides, I love waiting around. That’s why I joined the service.” She gave a small laugh at her own joke, resulting in a bit of awkward silence that she simply didn’t care about.

He just kept his eye contact with her, the prime minister not saying a word as he sat there. Being stoic not showing much hint his emotions on the matter. Until a heavy sigh left him. “Well I served my time, and what I remembered during it was holding dying men’s hands during prayer. So I hope my concerns over this matter are understood.” He reached into his coat to take out a document placing it on top of her desk as he stood up from his seat. “As a messenger I hope you can give that over to Pierre, it has confidential information that may be useful in dealing with Atlalandr. Both of them.”

“A gift? It’s not even ending of the year festivals.” She pulled over the documents to her side of the table. Looking it over herself, flipping through the pages as she skimmed it. “This is an interesting weather report, I dare say it will delay certain deliveries. Those in the East of course will still receive it on time but those western folks will have an extra month-long delay.” She looked up to the prime minister. “One month delay sounds suitable for the West?”

“If this situation continues like this even a month from now, then they have only themselves to blame.” He grabbed hold of the cup taking a final sip from it before putting it down, turning around to grab his coat putting it on again. “Thank you for the tea, I know this meeting was rather sudden.”

“Oh I love to host Norgsveltians, I even have one that lives under my roof back home.” Mrs. Blanchet smirk turned more into a cheeky smile. “These reports look fragile, and my fax machine has a nasty habit of eating fragile things but I’m sure these papers will do fine when it is scanned in.” She gave another look at the top page of the documents before looking up at him. “In a few hours of course, but you don’t need to send another weather report. This filled in a few gaps in our monitoring, lucky it confirms no storms hitting the coast in the west but high chance of ice in the east.” She placed the documents back down onto her desk. “Pleasure meeting you Mr. Varg, have a safe flight and don’t let the bumbles in the air make you lose your tea.”

Varg let out an actual genuine chuckle as he pulled his black coat closer to himself as he began walking towards the exit of the office. “They are fragile indeed, Mrs. Blanchet. Quite fragile.” He said before finally exiting the office only the smallest of smiles being visible on his lips as he left.

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27

27th March, 2025
Atlaborg, West Atlalandr

You’re bringing a disaster upon Atlalandr, upon all of Concord.

Have you become mad? Or have you always been mad? You should resign.

For now you are doing the bombings but trust me Prime Minister, that won’t last.

We are your friends, your partners, your allies. But that does not mean you are beyond criticism.

We are not saving you from yourself. You’ve dug your grave, Nikkolas. Only you can avoid resting in it.

“Mr. Prime Minister, you alright?”

Nikkolas’ eyes blinked for a moment as he heard a voice that broke him out of his thoughts, some rather stressful thoughts in all seriousness. He looked to the side to see his chauffeur, a young tiefling man of reddish skin dressed in a typical black and white suit. Holding up the door for the Prime Minister in question. “Yes. Nothing to worry about.” He said with a smile as he adjusted his own tie as he stepped out of the car. His eyes looked up towards the Atlalandian Royal Palace, a small sigh leaving him.

“Nervous to meet with his majesty, sir?” The tiefling asked, tilting his head giving a sympathetic smile. As he pointed towards his own forehead.

Nikkolas gave a bit confused look at that towards the boy as he reached up to his own forehead and felt the small drops of sweat that had gathered on it. “Oh, well. I guess I am a little bit.” He lied with a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Thank you for asking, Tarton.” He gave the tiefling a pat on the shoulder as he walked forward, having a false confident smile on his lips.

He was nervous and stressed out for certainty. But not over meeting his majesty. No, nothing like that. Rather his mind was clouded by anxiousness of the mess he himself has created. He wasn’t sure how he was going to tackle the IF resolution, his coalition partners and even many of his own party are convinced all they need to do is weather the storm. That it only be two more weeks and they’d have secured the unification of their country once and for all.

Yet… he felt dread. As he remembered a warning that Varg gave him not so long ago.

We have become tired of holding the Federation back.

_

“The answer is no, son.” The Atlalandian King spoke in a stern tone as he walked down the stairs of the Royal Palace, the King dressed in his white royal uniform with a golden sash covering him, several medals placed around his chest. A ceremonial saber with a golden hilt strapped to his left hip. Ragnar’s brown hair was groomed back and he had a lightly trimmed beard. Right behind him was a younger man, in his early 20s, one who looked much like the king. Though blonde instead of brown and a face that was cleanly shaven. Though both had similar features with same stern jaws and narrow eyes. The younger man was wearing a pair black dress pants and a purple dress shirt.

“Father it is not right that I-” He began speaking before being interrupted by his father, as the king stopped in the middle of the staircase to turn around to face him.

“That what? That I won’t allow you to risk your life on a whim?” Ragnar looked up at his son, narrowing his eyes as he did so. His voice is none surprisingly authorative and clearly disapproval.

“That I stay in this palace, while others die in our name!” The Prince matched his father’s gaze, his eyes narrowing as well as he stared down at his father from his position. His hands clenched together into fists. “Let me serve! I did once before! I was in a logistics company five years ago, remember? L-”

“I said no!” Once more the Prince was interrupted as his father spoke up, no not spoke up, but rather yelled. The King’s words echoing around the large palace, the Prince’s blue eyes widening as a result bit taken aback. The Prince was leaning away from his own father as well. Ragnar just let out a sigh, his hand moving up to his face rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Go up to your study, Raskar.”

“Fath-”

“Now.” Ragnar’s voice was much colder this time, it was still one filled with anger, but much milder and calmer. His green eyes looking into his son’s blue ones, they were stern but not as cold as his voice. They stayed in silence for a few minutes before his son, his heir, finally gave a firm nod before turning around and walking up the stairs.

With another heavy sigh leaving Ragnar’s lips he’d turn around to look towards the entrance, though he noticed some looks given by some of his staff and guards. Though they quickly continued on with their work the moment they saw his eyes on them. He shook his head at that before completely walking down the stairs and walked up to the entrance, taking a moment to gather himself as his hands took hold of the door handles. Putting a friendly smile on his lips as he pushed the white doors of the Royal Palace, walking out of the palace as he gave a wave to his Prime Minister who was walking up towards him.

“It has been a moment, your majesty.” Nikkolas said politely as he gave a big bow with his head before reaching out to shake his hand. Having a small smile as he did so. His voice was one of professionalism as expected.

“It sure has been a while, Prime Minister.” Ragnar said with a small chuckle as he tried his best to not let his smile falter, giving a firm shake to the Prime Minister’s hand before gesturing for them to enter the palace. Gods did the king hope the meeting would be a short one.

_

The King’s hopes were quickly dashed as he poured himself another cup of coffee, his eyes carefully studying the Prime Minister as he continued on with his obligatory report to him. The two men were in the palace’s parlor room, an white coloured well decorative table in between them as gentle rain began hitting the windows. With the table having a coffee kettle and some plates with cookies on them. Though Ragnar’s eyes never left his Prime Minister’s form. “As you likely understand your majesty, our government has vastly improved our nation’s economic standing. According to estimates by several economists from Osfjord we are easily looking towards a 4% gdp growth this year, highest growth in well over a decade.” The King had a polite smile as he listened to Nikkolas, the Prime Minister having a confident firm tone. “And with the Trøyer Initiative written with Hvaloaszna we are already on our way to move our economy to a Norgsveltian style one. The times of overly dependent on our mineral industry is going to be well and truly behind u-”

“Was this before or after our NCEF grants and investments were frozen?” Ragnar spoke up for practically the first time since they began the meeting, his smile kept on his lips.

Nikkolas’s eyes blinked slightly at that being caught bit by surprise before giving an understanding nod. “It was before but do not worry, Mrs. Ardak is already working heavily on ensuring that it gets resumed as quickly as possible.” He kept a polite tone as he grabbed hold of his own coffee cup taking a sip from it.

“Hmm.” The King hummed at that, glancing out the window as he took a sip from his cup. “It was Mrs. Ardak who also negotiated the Trøyer Initiative as well, was it not?”

“Indeed she did, your majesty. Rest assured our nation’s economy is in safe hands with her experience.” Nikkolas spoke in a confident tone his head held high as he put down his cup.

“I’m sure it is.” Ragnar looked back towards his Prime Minister, keeping his polite smile as his lips tightened bit more. As if to keep words that he wants to say but fundamentally is better to keep unsaid. “An Hvaloaszna they use a more planned economy right? I hope it’s more the Akuan kind and not the Einarist kind.”

Nikkolas let out a small chuckle at that, shaking his head. “That is an understandable worry, your majesty, but one you don’t need to hold. They are of the Akuan kind in terms of economics, as always we do not do business with Einarists.” The Prime Minister had a warm tone, glancing down at his cup.

“That is more than obvious.” The King said in a tone that was in a far colder one than Nikkolas’s, a clear clank coming as he put down his cup. Catching the man’s eyes as the Prime Minister looked up at him again.

“Your majesty?” Nikkolas asked as he raised an eyebrow at the King, tilting his slightly. While the King still had a polite smile on his lips, it was obvious that the mood had shifted as there was a very quick moment of silence.

“…How’s the war going?” Ragnar asked as he leaned back into his chair, his hands on his lap as he kept his polite smile. His eyes never leaving the Prime Minister, his eyes not matching his smile at all.

“Well the Stabilisation Mission is going wonderful, our army has advanced in such rapid succession that we are now just a day or two until we are knocking on Veridal itself. In practically every major city Einarist resistance has been dealt with, and the East’s Air Force has been decisively crushed.” Nikkolas said in a strong and decisive tone, one which masked his own anxiety. Hoping the king won’t ask about the diplomatic situation. “Honestly I’m certain we’ve made Kaldrbuth jealous, we did more damage to their air force than they did during their war with those Einarists.” He gave a small chuckle as he joked in hopes that the King would join him.

But instead the King was quiet, a smile still on his lips but there was certainly no chuckle to be left. “I think we have more reasons to be jealous of the Kaldrbuthians rather than the reverse.” His tone had that clear type of warmness that they both knew were fake.

For a moment it was the Prime Minister’s time to be quiet, as he took a sip from his coffee cup, a longer one until he put it down again. Smiling as he looked towards the King. “And what makes you say that, your majesty?” He asked as he tilted his head.

“Well for starters, Prime Minister.” Ragnar grabbed hold of a newspaper that was laying against his arm chair before placing it on the table between them. The headline being ‘The IFSC Condemns West Atlalandr’. “Kaldrbuth never had to deal with this, in fact attempts to do so failed to gain traction seemingly in large part because of Norgsveltian involvement.”

“It is… an regrettable development diplomatically. But one I will reassure the Crown we are ready to deal with.” Nikkolas’s smile slightly began to falter as the unfortunate topic was brought up, his eyes looking down at the headline.

“So the government has a plan then?” The King asked his smile not once having gone away as he raised an eyebrow at him. His tone was only slightly less cold.

“We are… at the beginning stages of a plan to handle this matter. Our diplomats are working over time.” The Prime Minister said with another small chuckle, his eyes glancing up towards the King, their eyes meeting.

“Oh that I am certain about, Prime Minister.” He replied back to him with a chuckle as well, though one extra fake as the King’s eyes narrowed more even if only for a moment.

“Though as bad as it might sound, your majesty. I reassure you that these things are not as bad as they sound.” Nikkolas said in a more determined tone now, matching the King’s gaze. He was gonna ensure he had the King’s approval.

For a moment Ragnar’s eyes blinked at that, leaning forward for a moment. “If that is the case, do you care to explain to me how?” He tilted his head giving his Prime Minister a curious look.

“Of course, your majesty.” Nikkolas could internally let out a sigh of relief as he gave a serious nod and a confident smile to the King. “While the condemnation is naturally bad and we have been requested to withdraw. No sanctions have been placed yet, and as much our partners in Norgsveldet and Tretrid might support this resolution. They cannot place sanctions on us without it breaking the core point of the NCEF. Which means that IFSC easiest ability to enforce such a resolution will lack teeths.” He took a moment to study the King’s language, seeing his more relaxed shoulders as proof that his words were convincing. “It might look bad, but we can genuinely ignore their resolution. I can reassure you, your majesty. With how close we are in taking over all of East Atlalandr, with how close we are to reunification. We still have the ability to continue on!” He spoke in an almost courageous and strong tone, his hand up to hold it in a fist having a strong smile.

The King was quiet, his shoulders relaxed still as he reached out to grab his coffee cup. Taking it up to his lips as he took a sip from it. His eyes glanced out of the room, out the window. His polite smile slowly went away. “…And what reassurances can you give me about those Côtois warships that are outside our waters?” He asked in a tired tone.

“Well, it is simple postering, you majes-”

“Postering?” He quickly interrupted his Prime Minister, putting down his cup bit harsher than he meant to. Almost causing a spill over. “With all due respect, Mr. Bjarnvikdal. This is the Lapérousians we are talking about, it is hardly ever just postering.”

A cold bit of silence was left in the air at that, as both men’s eyes met and the clear emotions were on both their eyes. One of pure cold judgement, and one of just ever growing anxiety. After another minute of that aching silence, it was soon after broken as the Prime Minister stood up from his chair. “Well… It seems our time is up. I will bring the concern of the potentiality of Côtois involvement, at tomorrow’s emergency cabinet meeting.” He said, trying to keep polite smile on his lips.

Ragnar let out a heavy sigh at that, looking down at his cup before standing up himself and reaching out to shake his hand. Shaking his head in half amusement.

“Mr. Prime Minister, you really gotta stop calling them emergency meetings, when it starts becoming a regular occurrence.”

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29th March, 2025
Tarskby, East Atlalandr

To say that things have been looking rather bleak for the RAFA is to state the biggest understatement of the century. With the Republican Army in rather rapid retreat on both Southern and Northern Fronts, taking beatings after beatings, the Republican Air Force being almost completely destroyed. Frankly the only branch of the Republican Military that not been hit hard is the navy, that has been in dock the entire conflict and barely was existent to begin with. All while Elisa Våld and her Einarist clique had to flee Veridal as the RDFA advanced towards it, as an army unit of hundred thousand men was concentrated in the region to delay them as long as possible. With the government now being relocated to a small, rather unimportant town a few hundred kms North from the capital.

With all this going on, one would easily expect the morale to have plummeted for the troops and officers stationed in the city. Or for practically anyone there, civilian or military. And if you had asked anyone in the city only a few hours prior, that would be very much the case. But instead there were loud cheers in the city as several soldiers held up their phones, turning it up on full volume as they waved it around as their news broadcaster Revolutionary Media reported on a very recent development.

“Bjarnvikdal announces complete withdrawal from Republican territory! Reports of the Tilmerian Army marching westward to reinforce the rightful government!”

Within moments of those words being uttered there are immediate opening of beer cans by the rank and file, to bottles of wine and champagne by the higher command. Not a celebration for victory mind you, more a celebration of basic survival. That one wouldn’t find one self trying to desperately keep off an tank battalion with a few rifles and grenades that seemingly commanders had expected from the soldiers, or that the one wouldn’t be at the end of precise missile hundreds of kms away from the front line as many of East Atlalandian officers had found themselves in. Even Grete Hundredrag, one of the supposed ‘top’ generals of East Atlalandr found herself at the other end of such an attack. As such hearing an end of the conflict? That West Atlalandr was willingly withdrawing and they didn’t have to desperately fight anymore? It made even the most high ranking military official, Dasker Marertitar, let out a sigh of relief as he made his way to the Prime Director’s office. The elven general was dressed in a camouflage uniform having just finished briefing his subordinates about the situation and to not let celebrations get in the way of the military’s readiness… What remained of it that is.

Though as the General entered the Prime Director’s office, previously the Mayor’s until she took it for herself, he would see that Mrs. Våld was in an… less than ideal state. As the General would see her letting out a loud scream in frustration as she slammed her fist against her desk, holding her phone so tightly he was certain he saw the glass begin to break. Her long black hair was a mess, red eyes twitching as she was looking down at the desk under her. Her black and white suit was not much better, with her red tie being loosened as well. Sweat gathered on her forehead as she breathed in and out, all while muttering under her breath. Though the General did not hear it well, he swore he heard at least one word from her.

“Loyalty…”

Dasker let out a small cough into his gloved fist to catch her attention as he stood in the doorway. The Prime Director slowly lifted her head up towards him, before a small sight left her.

“Mr. Marertitar. You’re here.” She straightened her back in an attempt to be more in control, her hands moving up to fix her tie.

“Well, yes you wanted the report of our nation’s military capability right?” He walked up to the desk while he held out a binder that had the Einarist symbols of an axe and sledge hammer on it.

“Thank you, general. I won’t hold you too long, there is much reason to celebrate after all.” She said giving him an weak smile as she took the binder from him, opening it as she looked through it.

The general in question couldn’t help but glance down towards the phone on the desk, the clear cracks on its screen from how tightly she had been squeezing it. “If it’s not too much to ask, Madam. What was that earlier?” He glanced over towards her, her not at all looking away from the binder.

“What was what?” She said in a simple tone acting as if she had no idea what he was asking about.

“You seemed rather… angry about s-”

“Oh it was not anger, hardly.” She waved her hand dismissively at him, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she did so. “It was mild frustration at best.”

The general once more looked at the cracked phone screen on the desk, with him wanting to make a remark about the supposed mildness of it but he was wiser than that. “Right, still I would like to know what caused the frustration.” He had his hands behind his back politely as he stood at attention.

It was only then he saw her look up from her binder, her dark red eyes giving a mild cold look towards him though she kept a smile on her lips. “Well it is really not too much of your concern, but you can help me relax by answering a question of my own.”

“Of course, ask away Mrs. Våld.” He gave her a strong nod, his mind already telling him to be careful with any answers he gives.

“What are your thoughts on the President?” She asked in a stoic tone, tilting her head ever so slightly.

“I’m an military man first and foremost madam, my expertise lay in those matters not poli-”

“You couped Vakrela together with me, general. Do not try to avoid the question.” She spoke in a sharp cold tone, her smile going away for that moment as her eyes narrowed.

“…Well. My opinion is that he was useful for the coup, but ever since his use has diminished. And while it is not official knowledge among the public, his decision to use alcohol as a substitute for dealing with the sorrow of his sister’s death has made some question his position.” The general’s tone was as matter of fact as he could make it, though seeing he was met with silence he quickly had to clear his throat before continuing on. “Though to make it clear, no one questioned your decision to keep him as president. He gives us a semblance of legitimacy.”

Upon saying that the Prime Director let out a small quiet chuckle as she smiled, laying the binder she was reading on flat on the desk revealing the page about Tilmerian reinforcement. “Well General, I was thinking about making things far more simpler. I need loyalty and competence afterall, not legitimacy.”

She smiled once more, though the General couldn’t help but feel something was… deeply wrong with that smile.