Consul of Treason

Teplar System Urth
1

23rd, September, 2025

Soturikaup, Tiervan

The feeling around the streets of the Tieresh capital was one of nationalistic fever. Crowds the dark green and red flag of the national republic, with large lines of young men and women gathered outside recruitment posts for the Tieresh army. Despite all the sanctions, and loss of the partnership with the UCCS, Tiervan was rearming once more. Though the restricting of arms sales to the country had slowed down the military expansion by pure lack of procurement of the needed equipment, even countries like Rikevaarland were hesitant selling weapons to them by simple matters not wanting to be too blatant in opposing IF resolutions. Yet if there was one thing everyone could see with their own eyes, was the large amount of enthusiasm that it all created.

While many nations might struggle with recruitment numbers for their military, Tiervan was struggling to get equipment for them all. By some estimates that the Secret Police gathered, there were more than enough people to not just meet the 300k strong army that Twain had requested for the four year army plan but even beyond it. While some are the result of conscription, the vast majority are actual volunteers. Mainly by former military personnel who had lost their original jobs as a result of the past treaties. Already not yet a year the Tieresh dictator could be proud to admit that the army already expanded to 136k men. Even as he sat in his office chair, looking out the window of his presidential palace. His personal guard, the Blood Guard as was their nickname, marched in front of the palace. Dress in dark green uniforms, with dark red uniformed caps with their revolutionary phoenix symbol at the front of it.

“United through blood and spirit. Through that we will have victory over all our enemies.” He said to himself, as he was leaning forward simply admiring his own guard. Not even caring about the military officer behind him.

“With due respect, sir. One does not win wars by simply throwing troops at the problem.” An feminine voice said behind him, one that was professional yet almost sweet in tone. Though for Twain her tone did not matter as much the feeling of disrespect he felt with the words that was stated.

“Did I ask for your opinion, Mrs. Kylmät?” Twain’s voice sneered out as he turned his chair to look at the younger human woman in front of him. Himself being dressed in a typical suit, with a party logo of two green swords crossed together at his collar.

“No, sir. I just felt like it might be wise to give it.” The officer responded, having a smile on her lips as she bowed her head respectfully. She was dressed in an almost brownish green ceremonial officer uniform, with a black and blue cap, her short shoulder length blonde hair sticking out of it. Her blue eyes met his, a level of coldness there that contradicted her smile.

Twain adjusted his glasses as he looked her up and down, tapping his fingers against his desk. “You look to be on the younger side, lass. So I will not judge you for your mindset too much.” He said with a low chuckle shaking his head, a smile now forming on his own lips as he stood up from his chair. “As such, I’ll tell you a bit or two about my own soldiering days.” He pointed his thumb towards himself as he spoke fondly. “And let me tell you. Those colonialists might have had better equipment, they might have out gunned us. But by everything glorious on this Urth, they did *not* have our spirit!”

The president slammed his hand against the desk, not out of anger or even frustration but simply passion as he spoke. The officer did not even stop him, simply giving a raised eyebrow as she glanced down towards his hand before looking up at his face again. “We sacrificed blood and sweat for this country during that war, through our blood our nation was born. Through the blood of heroes fertilising our soil that it grows so well.” He spoke with a level of fondness to it all, taking the moment to turn around to look out the window as he walked up to it. “Those men and women out there? They will be fighting for their very last breath. They are *heroes*. Our enemies are imperialists, Mrs. Kylmät. They fight for nothing more than domination over others, for money. But no amount of money can replicate a national heroic struggle.”

Though Twain would not get to see it, the woman’s eyebrow would twitch at that. Her lips pressed tighter together, as she kept herself quiet. Holding her tongue. Simply giving a nod as she kept her smile on her lips, tilting her head. “I see. When you put it like that, then I completely understand. Sir.” She said professionally as she put down the report she was holding into his desk.

A hearty laugh left the dictator at that as he clapped his hands together turning around to face her again. “That is wonderful to hear!” Smiling wide as he did so, putting a hand on top of the report. “And do not worry, I am taking you and concerns many rest you officers may have over my plans.”

Kylmät gave another nod at that, being about to turn around to walk out of the room. But found herself stopping for a moment. As held her hand up to give a salute as she looked over her shoulder towards him. “If I may ask, what are you gonna do about the ultimatum?”

“Oh you mean the demands the Norgsveltians have pushed forward?” Twain raised an eyebrow at that as he sat back down again into his office chair. “I am doubtful they will be acted upon. Him together with Pierre may make threats of turning our country into graves and craters, but they are not above international law.” He rolled his eyes scoffing at the idea. “Plus there limits how many bombs they have, our nation will survive. It is far more imperative that we reject any chains put on us.”

The officer was quiet at that, once more keeping her professional smile on her lips at that. “Understood, sir. I’ll ensure my troops are at the ready, United through blood and spirit.” She held her hand in a fist before pressing it towards her chest as she gave this time the party salute.

“United through blood and spirit.” Twain said grinning as he answered the salute in kind, his mind at ease. Even as his eyes glanced merely over the report he was given as the army officer left his office. The report was part of several same type reports he got from lower ranking members in the army, mainly on matters of equipment shortages of more advanced military systems and the strength of their enemies. It all made him roll his eyes.

One day they will all learn what he learned over decades ago. War is a beautiful thing, and now that he dealt with his party rivals? He was certain that even if he was to be killed by those imperialists and socialists. It would be worth it.

His sacrifice will simply keep his people’s revolutionary spirit continuing on and on.

_

Joltana Kylmät couldn’t help but have a sneer on her lips the immediate moment she stepped out of Twain’s office, her heavy booted footsteps echoing down the hall as she walked. Each step having more anger with them than the other, so much so that the oh so feared Blood Guards that were in the halls made certain to step away from her. She could not believe all the bullshit she had heard from him, the same bullshit that she heard all the damn time. In the past she used to believe that Aukusti was a pragmatic dictator, one that knew the reality of the situation despite the propaganda pushed out. But with all the years she had served in the army and rising up the ranks? Even being captured during the last conflict they had. She found out one thing.

That bastard believed his own fanatical lies.

And because of that, more lives will be thrown away. Their nation, one that is already in economic ruin, will face utter ruin. Anyone who knows how the Federation behaves knows they make promises, not threats. And anyone wise would understand that only Norgsveldet could restrain it. Unfortunately that luxury doesn’t exist for them.

It had to end. Their nation was being ruined by this fanaticism, by its foolishness. Their enemy was internal, not external. And she knew there was only one way to ensure they could deal with that as she exited the palace, and looked towards her driver as she spoke a single cold command.

“Drive me to the ‘Theater’.”

2

Joltana lighted up her cigarette as her eyes glanced towards the other members in the cold dark room they were in. All five of them gathered around a large circular wooden table, ashtrays nearby for those who decided to smoke. The building they all decided to find themselves in being an old abandoned theater not too far away from the capital, it had been run down from years of lack of funding and fundamentally a lack of care. Joltana had remembered how her parents would take her here as a child, how colourful it all once was.

Now it had nothing of that. No colour, only coldness in it all. Cracks in the walls, posters run down and all other signs of decay. There are days she would come here to just… try to think back on it. To reminisce about it.

“I do not mean this disrespectfully, but could we change our meeting place to somewhere warmer? Rather than… this.”

…Though that was not today as her blue eyes glanced up to the young man who spoke. Mr. Vanha. He was a young dark haired military officer, one dressed in a uniform similar to hers but with a dark coat wrapped around his shoulders. The oh so poor boy apparently never handled cold before.

“Seeing how this may be our last meeting, hardly something we will need to be too concerned about.” Then right after him to speak was Mr. Meneikki, an older gentleman, both men dressed in the same ceremonial officer uniforms. Joltana didn’t exactly keep taps on their ages but if she had to make a guess, Meneikki must be at least in his early 50s. She remembered hearing him at least being a kid during the independence war.

“Are we doing it then?” Vanha spoke up, his eyes blinking for a moment. “I mean don’t take me, *wrong*, I am more than happy to kill Twa-”

“Twain is mine to kill, Vanha.” She finally spoke up, interrupting whatever long tandem or rant that the young officer was going to go on about. Much to his clear frustration as the officer frowned.

“The *point* being, Kylmät. That this isn’t exactly what we planned for, at least not this early.” Vanha was rolling his eyes at her, in spite of the stern look she gave him. With the young officer soon being backed up by another voice.

“He has a point.” Jade Manner. An older woman spoke up, a red head who looked to be in her 50s and one who had the highest rank out of all them. One of Twain’s main generals. “As said before, Joltana. I’m not exactly much in favour of this plan, and now you’re asking to push up this plan? Before we can even secure the loyalty of other parts of the army?” Her tone was cold, and harsh. One that made most flinch though Joltana barely even glanced towards her at that.

“Mrs. Manner, with all due respect have you looked at the news?” Joltana answered equally coldly back as she tapped her cigarette at the ashtray, slowly turning her head towards technically her commanding officer. “We have the Norgsveltians and Côtois stationing a large enough air force on this island to ensure every single army personnel is blown at least twice over. Yet despite that Twain wants us to fight anyway.”

“At least through this we will have a chance of survival, Twain trying to drag us in a war we cannot win.” Another voice spoke up in support of Joltana, one who was sitting next to her. A woman of a similar age to her though this one having long black hair in contrast to her blonde one, one which was tied into a pony tail. The woman being none other than Joltana’s second in command, Timitk Meriät. “Like get your heads checked, does it matter If we die with a bullet through our head or a bomb dropped on it instead? Either or, we are pretty damn dead.”

“I certainly prefer my family getting to bury my remains in one piece at least.” Vanha said with a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. “That being said. How do we even know Norgsveltians won’t bomb us anyways? They hardly trust us much, not to mention I have a feeling that Varg fella just wants an excuse to bomb us.”

“Do not worry about that, I’ve gotten clear reassurances.” Joltana spoke up in her still cold tone as she took a spoke from her cigarette again, not caring about the surprised look she got from the other officers in the room. Her cigarette kept her face lit up.

“…What is that supposed to mean?” Meneikki spoke up as he narrowed his eyes, the man slowly standing up from his seat. All of which Joltana could only roll her eyes at the older man’s attempt of intimidation.

“I thought it would be clear, I’ve been in contact with the NCIS.” Almost immediately upon those words exited her lips the older man was followed with the younger officer next to him also standing up, even Mrs. Manner began glaring at her after that.

“You’ve been in *actual* contact with the damn Norgsveltians?” Meneikki hissed out his voice filled with venom, the older officer backed up by the young one next to him.

“We agreed to join you on this because we *all* agree Twain must go. But nothing during this have we ever talked about being in league with *them*.” Vanha said, gritting his teeth, hand on the table grabbing it harshly.

“Joltana.” Before she could even speak up defence it was Mrs. Manner’s turn to speak up, her voice ice cold as she said her name as a warning. “You know just as well as me that working *with* the Norgsveltians are gonna be seen as the highest form of treason by, well, not just the army but everyone in our country!”

“Have you even thought this *through*?!” Meneikki spoke up again, his hands harshly pressed on the table leaning forward more as if his glare would somehow actually begin intimidating her. “We will be betraying the Oath that we swore, *everyone* will hate us a-”

“Then we must just be ready to slaughter everyone who thinks they can stop us then, no?” Joltana spoke up interrupting the older man, her tone cold but one bit more shaken as she held back her own frustration. Her lips tightly pressed into a frown, before a small quiet chuckle left her as a smirk began forming. “Lets be honest here, did you all really try to kid yourselves into thinking you weren’t committing high treason? That we wouldn’t have people *enraged* at us the moment we put a bullet right in between Twain’s sorry skull?”

Her words immediately silenced the officers, even if they didn’t exactly stop their glares and gritting teeths. The older officer especially still fiercely glaring at her. “That may be the case, but to *colloborate* wi-”

Once more Joltana spoke up to interrupt him, rolling her eyes as she put out her cigarette on the ashtray in front of her. “Give me a break Meneikki. If we planning on not just killing Twain, but *seizing* actual control we’re gonna need the tools to enforce our rule.” As she crushed the cigarette, her blue eyes glanced around the room landing on some empty dark corner narrowing for a moment. “And luckily for you, I can show you exactly what tools we get from this.”

Out of the dark corner, a shadowy form stepped out into the light. Based on the form, it was clear that the person was much shorter than every other treasonous man and woman there. Yet his wolf ears and matching tail, shown well enough the mysterious figure was certainly not from Tiervan. The more light that came onto his form, the greater the question as he held out a wallet while his other hand slipped inside of his pocket. The foreigner had a gentle expression across his face, though anyone who looked long enough into his brown eyes could tell a certain level of predatory instinct camouflaged with a disarming smile. He wore a plain black button up suit, something cheap and commonly found at flea markets rather than something custom made.

He flipped open his wallet, relieving a shiny yellow and black badge of an all-so familiar image straight from the movies. The Nystatiszna Intelligence Bureau, NIB. He cocked his head to the side in a lazyabout manner, “Afternoon, hope you don’t mind if I skipped the roll call. I’m not one for announcing myself.” His tone held a nonchalant care to it, as his eyes looked towards the group.

Though Joltana had already caught a hint of his presence long before the others, it was only the moment he spoke that the others did as well. With Meneikki and Vanha turning around as quickly as they could drawing their handguns from their holsters, having it immediately aimed at the agent, their eyes narrowed. With Manner having quickly stood up from her chair, causing it to fall to the ground as she placed a hand on her holster, not pulling it out yet. Meriät would likely have pulled her gun out as well if not for the hand Joltana had placed on her shoulder.

“How did you come in?” Meneikki growled out at him, a finger not yet on the trigger but one that was very quickly getting ready to do so.

“What is an *NIB* agent doing here?!” Vanha hissed out his finger very much on the trigger, ready to pull it the moment he felt the agent did anything that deserved a bullet through his skull.

“Vanha If you pull that trigger, I will assure you will come out of here in a body bag.” Joltana spoke up before letting out a sigh, as she stood up from her chair. “Everyone calm down, he’s with me.”

The moment she said that, practically everyone turned to look at her guns being lowered as they all looked wide eyed at her. Even her own second in command couldn’t help but stare at her in shock. With Vanha breaking the silence with a simple. “What?”

The agent flipped his wallet back closed, tucking it into his pocket. “Quick on the draw everyone, I’m proud of all of you.” He gave a lazily clap of his hands, keeping up that taunting smile of his. “The Bureau has been contracted to assist with delivery of a whole range of toys for you lucky kids.” His eyes scanned across the room before locking the contact with Joltana. “Some of which are more personal related than just a bit of fireworks.” He gave a wink to her.

The red headed general in the room with a hand still on the holster couldn’t help but glance behind her towards the blonde officer raising an eyebrow. “Personal?”

“Money.” Joltana said with no shame at all as she gave irritated looks towards the two other officers who still had not put their guns back in their holsters. “He’s not a threat, he is an ally so sit down.”

Vanha gritted his teeth still holding his gun tightly even if no longer having a finger on the trigger, looking over his shoulder to look at her. “He’s *NIB*, Kylmät. We cannot trust him.” He hissed.

“First NCIS, now NIB. How many foreign agencies have you been in contact with now?” Meneikki spoke up with venom though his body language was much more relaxed as the old officer finally lowered his gun much more down.

“In this case, you can thank the NCIS for my contact with this gentleman.” Joltana gave a lazy gesture towards the agent, her lips curled into a dismissive frown. “He will help supply us with Norgsveltian produced drones and other weaponry, aren’t you, agent?”

“I hope I’m the only agent Joltana is in touch with, otherwise I might end up getting jealous.” He gave a small laugh as he leaned back against a nearby wall. “Drones, guns, money and messages. I can even bring in a tank or two if you want, your benefactors are keen on seeing you succeed with your rapid and sudden transition of power.”

Vanha kept his glare at the agent, his gun slowly being about to be raised until Joltana spoke up again to stop the young officer from doing something stupid. “I was not bluffing when I said you come out of this in a body bag if you try to actually shoot him.” She had pulled out her own gun, placing it on the table with a clear thud. Causing the younger officer to look down at it. And with a few seconds he let out a heavy sigh as he finally put the gun back to his holster.

“To be clear, I still don’t trust you.” Vanha said with a mild glare towards the agent before he sat down in his chair again, the others in the room doing the same as well. With Joltana doing so at last, letting out a small sigh as they finally could come back to the point of the meeting.

“Now, as said agent Sjøn will be one helping us get the support needed that the NCIS will be providing us.” Joltana began explaining while gesturing for the NIB agent to get closer. “There will be much resistance, but with the right tools we can establish complete utter control and force the populous in line.”

The agent came close with a bit of swagger in his step, not at all phased by the cold and sharp glances directed towards him. Pushing a previously unseen box forward with his foot. “Sorry to the rest of you, but this little gift is for Joltana exclusively now.” The Kem gave her another one of those damn winks before turning his head to look at Vanha. “I don’t think you need to say that given how long you were holding your pistol towards me. It was rather hurtful you know? I came all the way from Borea to bring equipment over and now I get treated as if I was some sort of monster.” He clicked his tongue shaking his head in a sassy expression.

Joltana let out a sigh at the agent’s attitude, shaking her head lightly. “I need all of you to be on board with this if we’re gonna push through. If I have to try to kill Twain alone, I *will*. But I need to know if you’re with me or not.” Her eyes glanced over to each person in the room, narrowing on each of them. “I know you might not like the idea of working with the Norgsveltians…” She gave a look to the older officer, who while gritting his teeth slightly gave a small nod. “Nor want to work with NIB folks…” She gave a look to Vanha who was crossing his arms and glaring at the agent. “But to establish as much control as possible, it is very much a necessity."

The room was quiet for a very long time, before it was broken by Vanha who let out a heavy sigh and uncrossed his arms to rub the bridge of his nose. “Fine… Given circumstances…” He gave a look up towards the kem agent, distrust there but clear to all he relinquished his opposition. “It’s either this or death.”

“There is always the third option of fleeing to another country and becoming part of the Norgsveltian propaganda machine.” The Kem gave a small playful shrug of his shoulders before being glared at by Joltana. “Hey, giving options is part of my job.”

She let out a heavy sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose before looking over to the older officer, raising an eyebrow at him. “What about you, Mr. Meneikki? Are you with us or not?” Her tone was back to its icy coldness as she kept contact.

After a few seconds of silence the older office let out a small breath he was holding. “Twain has to go, If we have to betray everything to save this country. Then so be it.”

“Good, you can take your leave now Sjøn. I’ll talk with you later after we’ve gone through our plans. You can leave the shipment documents here.” Joltana said as she looked over towards the kem, her shoulders more relaxed now.

“It is all in here, along with the more personal gift from you truly.” He lifted up the box by his feet and handed it over to her. “See you tonight with some other gifts the Bureau had in stock.” He gave a bow of his head slowly walking back into the shadow before the whole of his body disappeared into the black.

Joltana’s second command couldn’t help but give a curious look towards her, raising a small eyebrow at the blonde woman leaning towards her to whisper quietly. “So… how close are you tw-”

“None. Now let’s get to planning the operation.” Joltana spoke in a cold tone quickly shutting her close confidant up even if she noticed a tiny smile on the woman’s lips. But soon enough she had everyone focused on the documents, and the tools they were to use to get all the leverages of power in the country.

3

30th, September, 2025

Soturikaup, Tiervan

Across the streets of the capital one could hear the voice of Twain as the fanatical dictator was holding his speech from the inside of his palace. His words broadcasted to radios and screens at his behest, and as Joltana’s car was driving on the city street she noticed much more disgusting than the lies being repeated on all ends…

The fact people were actually listening to his drivel. She couldn’t help but have sneer on her lips looking out the window to see different crowds smiling as they listened intently to Twain’s words. Her blue eyes glancing over towards one store, a small group of people standing outside with their heads glued to their phones. She even got a short glimpse of the shop owner as they drove past, the man seemingly caring more about news on the corner TV he had rather than his customers.

“You know as tough as you are, you do know your glares still can’t kill people, right?” Meriät spoke up next to her, the raven haired officer taking her eyes off the road for a small moment to give a glance towards her. Joltana couldn’t help but notice her fellow officer even gave her a small smirk.

Though she only let out a heavy sigh as she looked towards her driver, leaning her body against the door of the car. Her hand resting on her holster. “I’m assuming it would be too much to ask for you to drive some of them over…” She said in a small joking tone, or she was mostly joking. Her colleague did give a small chuckle at her comment at least.

“Well it isn’t *my* car afterall, so If you don’t mind dents in it…” Meriät said in a mildly taunting tone towards her, before shaking her head in amusement as she turned her focus back to the road.

“The car is armoured up, If it can handle gun fire it can handle hitting some dull skulls.” Joltana rolled her eyes, earning another laugh from Meriät. “You’ve gotten any updates from Vanha and Meneikki, yet?”

“They are all in position ma’am, the moment we have gotten inside the palace they’ll secure their respective positions.” Meriät’s tone changed away from its previous casual one to one far more stricter and professional. “With Twain having placed the army on full readiness, and establishing martial law here, no one questioned them.”

“As expected.” Joltana was stoic as she spoke, not needing to add any extra to it as she gave a simple nod as her eyes looked outside once more. Seeing them finally getting closer to the presidential palace, even if the traffic slowed them down a little bit they could see it in their eyesight. Though the few minutes of silence they had was broken by Meriät’s voice.

“You really think it’s going to be as easy as you planned it?” She asked her, looking away from the road and towards her raising an eyebrow. Most would likely mistake the officer’s question for worry, but Joltana noticed that with the slight tilt of her head and the small smile Meriät had. It wasn’t exactly worry, more just simple curiosity.

“Killing Twain will be easy.” Joltana said in a fully determined and confident tone, her eyes looking ahead now. Focusing completely on the ever closer palace building. “Everything that comes afterwards?” A small half laugh left her. “That is gonna be a bitch to deal with.”

-

As the car arrived at the gates of the palace, they were stopped by two soldiers from the Twain’s ‘Blood Guard’, two men dressed in dark green uniforms with overly decorative silver buttons and those damn dark red caps with the phoenix symbol on it. Their clothing was slightly wet from the mild rain outside. Though what Joltana noticed most notably was their age, rather how young they must be. Couldn’t be a year above 20, if that. She let out a small sigh as she rolled down her car window.

“Ma’am I must apologise, but no one can enter the Presidential gro-”

She didn’t let the guard who spoke even finish his sentence as she began speaking up in a clear authoritative tone. “Boy, do you have any idea who you are currently speaking to?”

The guard in question couldn’t help but blink a few times in confusion, looking at her through the front car window before glancing over towards his fellow guard for answers but was only given a nervous shrug and shake of the head. “No?” He said in an uncertain tone.

Joltana shook her head side to side, as she let out an acted heavy sigh as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The Supreme President is not gonna be happy about this…” She ‘muttered’ out but made it clear to have her voice be loud enough for the guard questioning her to hear her, causing the lad’s eyes to widen. “The name is Joltana Kylmät, Brigadier of the Metsäti Brigade. I’m here to inspect my troops that currently stationed to keep *our* glorious leader safe.” She narrowed her blue eyes at him, causing him to flinch slightly.

“W-Well, I-If that is the case you just have to give me a moment to verify with my commander that you mea-” Once more the guard was interrupted by her speaking up again, her voice clearly bit more angrier now.

“No need for that.” She then held up a piece of document, holding it against the front window. “Order from General Jade Manner, I would *hope* you at least know about her.”

The two guards, with some hesitancy, walked a bit closer to the car to get a good look at the paper. Only after that, with both giving a glance towards each other did they decide to step to the side. “Right, my apologies Ma’am… we didn’t mean to waste your time…”

“Its not my time you’re wasting, it’s the President.” She hissed out at him as the gates were opened for them, the guard in question standing at full complete attention his face bit fear as they drove past them and towards the palace grounds that had more of Twain’s guards stationed around but also several of other soldiers around as well.

As the car was parked, Joltana heard a chuckle leaving Meriät causing her to glance over towards her curiously. “Goodness, you almost made the poor boy wet himself with how much you were intimidating him.” The raven haired officer was able to proclaim out as she began laughing more.

“The boy should’ve picked a different profession than, now come on.” Joltana rolled her eyes, even if a small smirk formed on her lips as she shook her head. Though it soon went away as they made their way inside.

She could only hope the two boys out there are smart enough to run when the first gun shots are fired out.

4

Twain stood behind his office desk, dressed in his dark green ceremonial uniform similar to his personal guard. Though more detailed and expensive, with pure gold buttons holding the uniform jacket together and more phoenix symbology around it. An outfit far more militaristic than previous presidents of Tiervan ever had worn. With Twain having decided to replace the red and green presidential sash with a short black cape that covered one side of his body, with him having a hand on top of a golden hilt of a ceremonial saber at his side as well. His critics, the ones who are unfortunately out of reach for him to kill, have called his outfit that of a wannabe monarch which he took great offense to. In his eyes his outfit was not that of a cowardly man with a crown, but that of reflection of a modern warrior. Ones that safeguard his dear homeland.

“Countrymen! With the Norgsveltian imperialists and their socialist attack dog showing their true cowardly side, of not following upon their *empty* threats they showed us one thing. That despite the challenges to our nation, we *will* prevail!”

He said loudly as he leaned over his desk, smiling wide as he looked directly towards the camera filming his speech. His hands lay on top of the desk as he did so. Though he did quickly adjust his glasses for a moment before continuing on. The room was brightly lit as the camera crew filmed him, with rain hitting the glass window behind him.

“May the Norgsveltians know this one thing about our country, and that is despite our differences. We are uni-”

Then right middle of his soon to be closing comments to his, almost half an hour long speech, the lights all went dark at once. With even the camera filming him turning off, at least that was his assumption with the confused expression from the camera man. The rest of the crew were not feeling any better as they looked around. Much to his annoyance, the dictator.

“What just happened? I wasn’t finished.” He hissed out annoyed as his eyes narrowed as he turned towards the side, looking towards a red woman who was rapidly typing onto her phone. Giving a nervous smile towards him as she looked up.

“I-I don’t know, sir. It seems like all power went out? I’m trying to get into contact with the media station right now t-” The woman was interrupted by the door of the office being opened up harshly, as a female military officer with long dark hair entered the room with a serious expression. With her dressed in the uniform of his personal guard. With two soldiers accompanying her with their assault rifles at the ready.

“Supreme President, we need to escort you out immediately." Her voice spoke in a clear cold authoritative tone as she pushed forward the two soldiers standing at the ready by the door. The officer in question grabbed hold of his wrist already pulling him to follow her, much to the dictator’s annoyance.

“Ouch, w-what for!” Twain growled out as he fundamentally let himself be pulled along by his private guard. Glaring at the back of her head as he followed after her, pulling his wrist away from her harsh grip. “I prefer being informed by my troops of why I’m being suddenly escorted.”

His growling voice was echoing down the hall alongside their ever hurried heavy footsteps as they walked past several troops, Twain couldn’t help but note that there was a certain tension in the air with the increase of soldiers from the army stationed outside the palace but also indoors as well. The entire palace is out of light. Making him have a slight frown on his lips. “Whats going on?”

He heard a small sigh from the officer as she led him down stairs towards a new hall. Once far away enough from other soldiers did she speak up. “I’ve been ordered by Commander Voitto to escort you to the bombshelter for the time being. The commander claims there may be a rogue element in the army that is looking to assassinate you.” She gestured for him to stop up before crouching down to open a small hatch leading to the bombshelter, using her other hand to gesture to him to be quiet.

“I see, as such Voitto wants to ensure I’m in a place that only he knows.” Twain let out a sigh of relief at that, letting his shoulders relax before looking down the hatch, looking at the ladder as he got on it. Beginning to climb down but noticing the officer not following after. “You not coming along, Mrs…?”

“Meriät, and no. Someone has to guard the entrance. Stay safe President. United through blood and spirit.” She spoke up as she gave a nod towards him, and gave the party salute with her fist pressed against her chest. Earning her an approving nod from Twain as he spoke up.

“Through blood and spirit.”

With Twain climbing down the ladder with the hatch closed soon after him, cutting him from the view of the officer he just met and as such the small smirk that would form on her lips.

_

The shelter room was… cold. Cold and dark as Twain descended down the ladder, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dark. Though still only able to see the outline of the long meeting table in the middle of the room. With him not being able to see anybody else there, a small irritated sigh left him as he pushed the short black cape he had to the side as he took a seat at the down end of it.

“Tsk. Hope they get power started soon, If only it wouldn’t be as damn cold anymore.” He muttered out in an annoyed whine as he rubbed his hands more together. His eyes were still narrowing around the room, trying to see more outline but fundamentally couldn’t. Causing him to rely more on his other senses, resulting in him noticing a small… creak on the other end of the table.

“Somebody there? Voitto?” He asked in a confused tone as he leaned forward his eyes trying his best to look at the other end of the table. In which he saw something lit up, a cigarette at the very end revealing at least the lower part of what he assumed was the commander of his most loyal guards. At least going by the same dark green uniform.

“Ah it is you, had me worried there for a moment friend.” Twain began saying with a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement as he leaned into his chair. “You’ve always been the quiet type. Even back during the war. Could hardly get you to open up much, and frankly you’ve always been intimidating. I remember you telling me how you got reprimanded by those Durakan officers when you volunteered for the civil war in Meremaa.”

Twain took the moment to let himself chuckle for a bit, allowing a few seconds of silence before he looked towards the figure again. Seeing the cigarette resting against the ashtray, still lit and between his fingers. “Got any more cigs? I really need to smoke right now.” He smiled as he gave a tap towards the table, and soon enough a pack of cigarettes and a lighter was slid across towards him. “Thank you. But yeah as I was saying, you always been one hell of an intimidating man. I mean without you I couldn’t have taken over as quickly as I did.” He smiled warmly at the memory, keeping his back rested against the back of his chair as he took out a cigarette from the pack. “I mean the discipline and loyalty you trained into your troops is something else. Without hesitation, without a single bit of reluctance they were willing to enforce our will across the country. All that we need to do now is to finally reunify our country and then, friend. We can say we finally fulfilled our promise.”

Once more Twain spoke with utter and complete determination in his voice, filled with confidence. The cigarette lit up his face enough to show the wide smile on his face. Though the smile went into a frown when he heard a “Tsk” from the other side. Though it did sound a bit different, the mere fact his friend would make that noise annoyed him. “What do you mean ‘tsk’? Don’t you believe in our nation’s capabilities? Our people’s willingness to fight?” He grumbled out, taking an inhale from the cigarette before tapping it against an ashtray. “I know you have us here because that rogue part of the army, which is concerning. But we have hundreds of thousands people eagerly volunteering, we barely even needed to rely on conscription since we brought it back. Those imperialists are not gonna be able to have our lands occupied for long!”

He gave a laugh as he said that, not once did he doubt himself as he spoke. They won their independence through the willingness to sacrifice everything for the country. No matter how many bombs were dropped, no matter how poorly equipped they were. They won through will alone. After all, when your enemy flinches from losing a few hundred men, how could they ever be willing to fight an enemy willing to sacrifice ten times as much?

He has been called a monster before for such a thought process. But he wasn’t among some cowardly sapiantarian, he was with a fellow brother, a comrade, a fellow patriot. They had fought next to each other during their nation’s quest for freedom, and they were shoulder to shoulder during the quest for political power. Together both of them fought for a Tiervan without shackles or chains. He was certain they were gonna achieve that. Just one more war, one more conflict. They just needed time to rearm.

Twain took another inhale from his cigarette, once more giving it another tap on the ashtray in front of him. His eyes have adjusted ever more to the dark. Seeing the table more clearer… and seeing his friend much more clearer as well. Noticing, few oddities. For one his friend has not moved his hand at all in time they began speaking, the lit cigarette now being half way burned. Some ash falling lazily to the ashtray. But for a second… it looked rather limp.

Though the dictator of Tiervan would not get the luxury to question that for long, as he felt something pressed against the back of his head. Something cold and hard, even without turning his head he knew it had to be a pistol. His eyes wide, his cheeks pale with the realization. His face still facing forward towards his friend, as the lights now turned on. Revealing his friend completely.

His friend, a man in his late 60s. A graying beard, with long gray brown hair, dressed in the Blood Guard ceremonial uniform. Said man sitting lifelessly on a wooden chair, green eyes that were completely blank. All with a clear gun shot through his chest. The body was utterly lifeless as it was there limp.

For a moment Twain was there just utterly quiet, shock and fear being on every part of his face. Until a rage came under him, his head turning to face who this traitor was. Who had the audacity to do this to him. What kind of person would have shot and murder his friend, a man who did so much for their country!

But Twain would never get to see the traitor’s face. Nor hear their voice. Since the world went to black. All that he got to see was the side of the room and the sound of a gun shot. As his body fell limp into the table.

The mad dictator joined his friend in that final thing.

5

Joltana let out a small sigh as she looked down at Twain’s corpse, a tiny shake of her head as she holstered her gun. “If we didn’t have a schedule I’d perhaps take my time more.” She said quietly with a small scoff, being about to turn around until her eyes looked down at the black cape that Twain was wearing. The blast from the gun had ensured most of his blood wouldn’t land on it, most being sprayed all across the wooden table. Still bits of blood had ended up on it.

She tilted her head as she kept looking down on it before unattaching the cape from the corpse, putting it on with the bits of blood stains that was on it before she walked towards the ladder and climbed up towards what was the first floor of the presidential palace. Giving three rhythmic knocks towards the wooden hatch, then waiting another few seconds before doing it again.

The hatch opened up revealing her raven haired subordinate who was smiling wide, and had hand stretched out to help her up. “That was quick, I for sure thought you were gonna take time to torture him.” Meriät taunted as she pulled Joltana up.

“We don’t have time for that. If we want to succeed we need to do this quickly.” She said with a small roll of her eyes as she was about to immediately make her way back up to what was Twain’s office. Until Meriät grabbed her by the shoulder earning her a confused look.

“As much as I personally like the bloody look, others might not.” Meriät gave a small chuckle as she made that joke before holding up a handkerchief for her to take, her lips being more a smirk than anything else.

Joltana took a moment to reach up to her own face, and true enough it was covered with Twain’s blood. Not covering all of it of course, but there was a bit of blood on her pale cheeks and some on her chin. Not a large amount, and mainly having hit her right side of her face. She let out a sigh again before grabbing the handkerchief and began drying away some of the blood. Muttering a quiet. “Thank you.” Before she began walking down the hall, throwing the handkerchief over her shoulder towards the officer.

“You’re welcome. Not much we can do with the clothes with our schedule, but at least it somewhat helps with the presentability.” Meriät said while shrugging her shoulders as she easily caught the handkerchief putting it down her chest pocket as she followed in tow. “I do enjoy the new addition of the cape. I think it fits you better than him.”

Joltana couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle at that, her lips curling into a smirk. “That I will certainly agree with.” She looked over her shoulder towards Meriät keeping that same dark smirk on her lips. “Now lets out if the people agree with us or not, hmm?”

_

The streets of Soturikaup were utterly silent, people finding themselves hiding in their homes ever since the first gun shots around the city were heard. Not constant ones, not ones that one would assume one would hear if they were fully invaded. But enough to make people heed to warnings to head inside, and not go out to the streets where there were still troops patrolling around. Several were desperately hoping to hear news from their oh so dear leader on the radio or on the tv or even just a notification on their phones.

But instead there was nothing. No speech from Twain Aukusti to reassure them about the victory they were supposedly destined to win while he looked determinedly at the camera, at them. No nationalistic slogans being constantly spoken loudly out through radio to get people into a passionate frenzy. Not even a simple notification giving them a command.

Nothing.

Instead all the Tieresh people had at this moment was silent radio and tv stations that they were huddled next to. In such cases perhaps they could’ve found something online to distract themselves, but the internet has also been cut off. Leaving a capital, filled with millions of people, in utter silence.

Until finally a voice would ring out through radios and TVs. Though it was not of the Supreme President, the man they have all been used to listening to for two decades now. Instead of a passionate masculine and energetic voice calling out to them, it was instead a cold stoic and almost bored feminine voice doing so. Yet the words said voice carried was no less shocking.

“Twain Aukusti is dead.”

The words lingered in the air, people who might have been looking out at the streets were not firmly focused on whatever device they had that was delivering this news for them.

“I will reiterate this to any loyalist fools clinging to hope they are able to keep their positions. Twain Aukusti is *dead*. And I, Joltana Kylmät, personally killed him. For this I know there are many listening right now who will call me a traitor, and all I can say that to my fellow countrymen. Is that I am. But only as a traitor to a man who betrayed our country first. Me and my fellow comrades are only traitors in the sense we are loyal to our nation, not to a dictator.

We are the Officers for Tieresh Liberation. We have taken the reins, we have secured the Assembly, we are at the palace, we control the stations. We are freeing Tiervan from the stench of Hirdism. It will be *free*.”

There was a moment of silence as the woman they all heard allowed her words to linger, to let her short speech and all that it meant sink in to every single one of them before she continued on.

“Those who stand opposed to liberation, will be annihilated.”

Then as the speech ended… the sounds of gun shots around the streets became ever more frequent.