Lambertus VII sat on his throne, slugged slightly backwards whilst reading a stack of documents regarding the fall and legitimacy of what was once the large nation of Veymar, which he’d decide to read over instead of studying the UIRF movements. He looked up and glanced around the throne room, which was empty of people besides himself and four ceremonial guards at the entrance.
“Mr Seron.” Lambertus VII lightly shouted. Derek Seron is a high ranking Emperors Guard, who has been assigned with the personal protection of the King. The man looked at the monarch and walked towards the throne where he sat and bowed. He looked back at Lambertus VII.
“Yes, your Majesty?” He commented.
“Please have the phone room contact Nickolas Frost immediately. I need to hold a meeting today.” The sovereign stated.
“Yes! Majesty!” Seron straightened up and bowed. He exited the throne room.
[hr]An hour past. Nickolas Frost was on his way to the palace. He was returning home from a long job in Fort Staynes. He was looking out the window. He glanced inwards to see his assistant on his phone.
“I wonder what Lambertus is thinking.” He said, forcing his assistant to take his eyes off the screen.
“Oh. Er. I don’t know.”
“It has been a while since he has called me. It must be important.” Nick noted.
[hr]Four hours later. Nick had been summoned to the Cabinet room.
“Hello Nick. Please take a seat.” A pause. “What I have discovered can be beneficial to the welfare of Staynes. Veymar was a country on the southern tip of Arcturia as you will know. It broke down towards the end of last year and there seems to be no efforts to kick start the country. There is no controlling government and quite frankly what’s left of it is a mess. The north area of the unorganised lands could be of use to us. A large area of Horales is uninhabitable due to its altitude and extremity and with an ever increasing population it is hard to find space. I would like you to gather a few units to expand west and southwards. The northern area of the unorganised lands are virtually uninhabited because it was far from the capital. With luck, we can see development of land for agriculture and the building of communities.”
“Expansion. Yep.” A two second pause (whilst writing). “I’ll see to it.” Nick finished writing it all in his notes. “Anything else sir?”
“Yes. I’ll email you the specifications of the designated border that would best suit us tonight. That will be all. Thank you.” Lambertus VII concluded.
“Thanks sir.” Nick walked out, carefully closing the door behind him.
Later that evening, Nick’s phone buzzed whilst he was speaking to a colleague.
“Excuse me.” He said, walking out of the room and into a corridor.
“Hmm.” Nick unlocked his phone to the delight that he had received his assignment.
The assignment wrote:
"Frost,
I was meant to deliver this a few hours ago and I apologise for the delay. Find below a picture showing labelled areas of unorganised land that I plan to annex to Horales under numbers 1 to 4. They represent each month. I expect you to complete this task within the four months labelled. There isn’t an extensive amount of locals in the area, only a few thousand. They’re who we hope to incooperate into Staynish society by funding them to start into the farming business. Building them proper houses, allocating them tools and land. That is why this project is going to take a while.
If there is any problem, ping a message directly to me.
Yours,
Lambertus VII Constantine"
“OK. That’s a lot of land. I hope he knows what he is doing.” Nick stated to himself. He walked back into the room and continued his meeting.
“I apologise.”
“Accepted. Now lets get back to work.”
A few days later.
Nickolas had just finished a meeting with Thadeus. The plan was set in stone. He would rally squadrons to wander into the unknown and set new boundaries. He thought to himself whether he was suited for the job, as it was a little tedious; unlike some of his previous operations. He shrugged off his thoughts and got to work, sending phone calls to high army officials.
(OOC: He is Chief Overseer of the Royal Staynish Armed Forces but he still needs to get them on board)
Nick wiped the building sweat from his hairline, sat back and huffed.
“That’s the last of them.” He was referring to assigning squadrons to the project.
“Right. Time to get some rest.” He finished his things on his laptop and paperwork and shut down for the night. He took a taxi home.
[hr]A week later, Nickolas found himself standing on a raised platform, addressing a brigade of 1,000 men and 1,000 women.
“Today. Marks the day that we bring more territory to the Staynish acquisition! Today we rise more powerful! These lands have been ravaged by thieves and famine and today we liberate them and bring them all to peace. TODAY MARKS THE DAY WE START THE END THE RULE OF HUNGER IN ONE OF THE WORSE DECADES FOR HORALES. YOU ALL KNOW WHAT YOU’VE BEEN TASKED WITH. Et in futuro! Goodluck gentlemen.” Nick finished, breathing more heavily than he started. He was greeted with the Staynish war cry, a tradition. The troops went their way, knowing what they’re doing. A few moments later the first truck pulled away, and then a few more.
“Officer Maepeed.” Nick shouted over the noise.
“Sir!”
“You’re coming with me.”
“Oh. Uh sir?” Maepeed muttered.
“Yes. I’ve decided to assign you to my personal squadron.” Nick smiled.
“Pleasure sir!” He saluted.
“At ease.” The two walked off and discussed their route.
Maepeed was in thick jungle. The landscape was incredibly dense and the squad had been on foot for several days, starting their expedition over a week ago. Their pace was sluggish, walking in single line rather than spread out over a mile.
“What’s the point.” Private Jahan said, frustrated and very tired.
“Snap it up Private. We’ll be doing this until the boundaries have been met.” He coughed. “Then we can go home.” Maepeed insisted, trying to sound convincing.
Several groans passed.
“With all due respect, Sir. We’re going at the pace of snails!” Private Crow snapped, huffing in disbelief.
“Don’t disrespect the mission! We must go on with this. It is our duty.” Sergeant Dogma enforced, glancing reassuringly at Lieutenant Maepeed. Maepeed nodded.
[hr]An hour later.
Dogma had spent four minutes trying to pinpoint their exact location.
“Boys it seems that the map says we are close to the first marker, we have been making good time! Four sixths of a mile west north west and we can make camp. That’s the first boundary.” He sighed in relief.
“Thank the lord!” Private Nevale sarcastically cried.
“Shut up, Private.” Private Crow scowled.
“Snap it up, Crow!” Dogma shouted.
Private Velam who had been silent the whole time whispered to his mate, “He sounds like the Lieutenant.”
Dogma packed the map and walked over to the Lieutenant. “Sir, our men are getting rather weary. Can I request that we make camp here?”
“No Dogma this is not the place. We need to push forward.”
Dogma glanced at Crow who had been listening the whole time to his disappointment.
“Forward men.” Dogma lazily cried, himself exhausted.
Four days later.
It was night time and the team was on their last legs. Four of the 15 men had been airlifted out, and one died. The mission, a success, was considered a wholly disaster by all. The troops sat on logs around a makeshift bonfire, that was coughing up smoke more than heat. Sarcastic ghost stories and stories of personal sex lives were rampant, attempting to smog the thought of old Nevale’s passing. The day before, when he was still alive, the teams first medic has been assigned onto the dying man. He had diagnosed him with an undiscovered virus, later named Yama after Mount Yama, close to Nevale’s death, which had jellied his heart until it was no longer supportive of him.
The medic was sat in his tent, avoiding the ‘party’. He was in deep thought, shrugging off the idea that whatever Nevale had, wouldn’t turn on him. After all, Nevale hadn’t been in contact with any of the team besides the medic. He sat backwards and sighed. He took a small container from his suitcase which held a sample of Nevale’s blood inside. It hadn’t struck his mind to tell the leader of the group, as it was his duty to report the sample to base.
Lets hope it’s not airborne. He thought, relaying the events in his mind over the evening.
Yama had taken little over 30 hours to kill its suspect, leaving the medic to ponder what the private was doing all that time before his death.
I’ll inform the group tomorrow. It’s too late now. He walked over to his bed, where he put his head down.
[hr]The next morning.
A few of the privates had been taking rotational shifts through the night, guarding the perimeter. Nothing had happened besides a visit from the local wildlife.
“Gav, what you got there?” Crow shouted over the misty air. Gav rubbed his fingers through it.
“Looks like something shit on my bag! Fucking animals.” He wiped the contents onto a nearby tree where he lightly cut his finger.
“Fuck, get me the medic, I’ve got shit in my cut!” Gav cried, holding his finger as if he lost it.
“Got it.” Crow chuckled, amused. He staggered through the camp, greeting waking men on the way. He unzipped the medics tent, and walked inside.
Great, he always is asleep.
Crow turned the face down medic onto his front, and was about to slap his cheeks, thinking it’d be funny.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” He staggered backwards, falling on his bum and turning to run outwards. He screamed, “He’s dead! He’s dead! Osvald is dead!” Crow stumbled to a knee, wiping a tear from his face. A flurry of cries and movement as the group that were awake made their way to the tent. The second medic, Barnes made his way inside. The scene was horrible. His chest was sunk and he was foaming with blood, which had clotted, indicating he had been dead for a while. His eyes were like stones, wide open and staring at the second medic. Barnes backed out, and zipped the tent up, picking the sample from Nevale up on the way, being the only other person who knew about it. He slid it into his pocket and threw up over the tent cover that he had just tampered with.
“Nobody goes in there.” A pause. “It’s a repeat of Nevale.”
“We’re all doomed.” whispered Dogma.
Barnes was forced to call an emergency Bio-hazard team through satellite communications.
“State your emergency?” A muffled voice with a thick Bursil accent asked.
“I’m the second medic officer performing an expansion operation under the name of the King, I request immediate assistance from a bio hazard team.”
“OK. State your location and intent.” The man on the other side hesitated.
“Approximately 15 miles directly south of Yalhalanieri.” Barnes hinted.
“Yalhanlan… What… Where is that?” The officer asked, confused.
“On the southern border of Spoontuis, a little village. Type it up on your computer you’ll find it straight away.” Several seconds of pause. Barnes heard the faint noise of keys being pressed. A mouse click followed. A minute later the officer finally broke the silence.
“I have found your location via intel from a satellite.” A bio hazard emergency team has been forwarded to your location. Do not move. It will take a day for arrival…"
“A day?! That’s too long! Sir, we don’t know how many people have been infected with this… virus. It’s extremely dangerous and it has already been identified as the killer of two of our men in the space of a few days.” Barnes shouted, gathering the attention of the camp who were all upset.
“I’m sorry. I can radio the team to go as fast as they can. I’ll also need a briefing of this virus.” The man calmly pushed.
“Uh.” Barnes huffed. “It effects the blood. It targets the heart.” He wiped his forehead, searching records documented by the previous medic. “It liquefies the heart until it the heart doesn’t have the strength to continue.” He sighed heavily. “There is no knowledge whether it is airborne or not, we don’t have sufficient knowledge. It kills within 30-40 hours. We don’t know how it is caused. Is there anything else you need to know sir?” Barnes replied.
“No, that is all. Thank you. Expect the team in a day. Don’t change your location.” The communications fell short.
“Well that went well.” Barnes nodded to Dogma. Barnes had instructed the team to quarantine themselves in each part of camp, fairly distributed around the camp.
Nick Huesban and Christian Hesselburg were flying with a team of bio hazard agents to the scene in a Mi-8AMTSh. Nick was holding a map of the hardly charted area, gained from Staynish intelligence in old Veymar.
“Ah. According to my judgement they’re in a depression. We’ll need to be dropped in open land half a klick west.” He said, addressing the whole team.
“Is there… Any questions?” Christian asked.
“Obviously not, I did a good enough job informing everyone about everything.” Nick hissed, to the chuckle of Christian.
“Ha ha. OK mate.” Christian laughed.
[hr]
Five minutes later.
“We’re approaching the drop off zone. I will inform you when you need to make the exit.” The pilot noted down the radio.
“Thanks Jubliak.” Christian said.
“Christian, when we are down there, shall we separate the group and take everyone’s sample?” Justin said, speaking out after reading a news article.
“Yes. Today we have got all the time in the world. Dannike has got a specialised portable tent, which we will need to use if we are to need more than a day down there.”
Dannike nodded.
A few minutes later.
"OK Christian, Nick. You’re ready to go. The doors opened and everyone was ready. Nick was the first one to jump, undermining Christian.
“For hell sake, always doing stuff like that.” Christian sighed, making the jump himself. The crew followed.
At this point they had all equipped their suits.
“Thanks Jub.” Christian saluted. (Like Luke Skywalker in Star Wars.)
“Pleasure.” Jubliak took off and before they knew it he was gone.
“Lets go team.” Christian commanded.