East Novaran Blues

Tretrid · July 15, 2023, 4:05am

Presidential Palace
Vesthavn, Hustreache
January 18, 2023
12:30 (UTC-5)

The Presidential Palace in Hustreache was in many ways a relic of the days when a king ruled over the country. It drew upon architectural styles that were popular once upon a time in places like Tretrid and Norgsveldet. A modern Hustrian observer would perhaps say that it was an icon of the monarchy’s delusions of grandeur.

The Presidential Palace also bore the scars of the monarchy’s violent overthrow. There were bullet holes embedded in the stone work here and there, from when forces of the Hustrian Republican Front stormed it. There were paintings slashed, frescos with parts of the plaster pried off to systematically eliminate every image of the Hustrian kings of the past.

It was perhaps a peculiar place to house the seat of government, but a lot of those signs of destruction were somewhat of a sign of national pride within Hustreache. It was a symbol of the tyrants of days past, and their avarice, and of their eventual overthrow. The government that followed had taken pride in essentially sitting on a throne built on the rubble of the House of Fuglestad.

For all its flaws over its nearly 100 years of existence, and even as it started to liberalize, Hustreache continued to take pride in the destruction of the monarchy. Even at its most authoritarian, the Republic had always been a step up above the monarchy.

Ambassador Eohgifu Engelwulfsdohter looked around at the rather peculiar sense of Hustrian decor as she walked through the palace’s hallways. She had come to the conclusion that leaving the remnants of the symbols of the monarchy up was meant to remind people of what had come before the Republic and of the extreme violence in which the Republic had been forged.

She finally reached her destination, opened a door, and walked inside. There was a table with a few seats set around it. One of the chairs was occupied.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador. Please take a seat,” President Felix Fredriksen said.

Felix poured some coffee into a mug, and put a bit of milk and sugar in it. He sipped the drink before looking up at Eohgifu. “Coffee?”

Eohgifu shook her head.

“Alright. Feel free to help yourself if you change your mind.” The friendly smile on Felix’s face faded, replaced with a more serious expression. “Now, do you know why you were summoned here?”

“There’ll be a summit held in Kyinster soon, between Tretrid, Ymirland, and the Federation, to discuss matters of security within East Novaris.”

Felix nodded. “I don’t think Cynebury will be surprised to find out that we in Vesthavn have significant reservations that we would like to express about this matter. There are a lot of threats to Hustrian national security out there, which unfortunately include nearly all of our neighbors. We worry that the summit will embolden those who wish to do harm against Hustreache and its people.”

“I would be remiss to not remind you that Hustreache has many allies as well,” Eohgifu said.

“Ambassador, those allies may stand as a deterrent against conventional threats like Norgsveldet, but do you think that will dissuade groups like the Akuan Liberation Front? The Sons of Odin? They don’t care how much Great Morstaybishlia says they back us.”

“We are doing this because we believe this is within the best interests for the stability of the region, President. Does Hustreache not stand to benefit from peace? It remains the primary economic hub in the region. We have come to a conclusion that Federation involvement in Northeast Novaris, between Ymirland and Kuduk, is unlikely to end soon. Is it not more practical to integrate them into the system of affairs in Northeast Novaris, instead of attempting a long and protracted campaign of trying to dislodge them?”

“Ymirland thinks as poorly of us as they do of Jarisven, and given the high level of Federation involvement in Ymirland, it is impossible to conclude that the Federation does not think poorly of us as well. I would argue that it is not within the Tretridian interest to invite further involvement by the Federation. You will simply embolden them, and then you will find a situation in northeast Novaris that is beyond your control.”

“It is clear that we will not come to an agreement on this matter here,” Eohgifu said. “It remains our position that this summit will serve the best interests of everyone in the region. Your reservations are noted and will be relayed back to the government of Tretrid. Is there anything more you wish to discuss?”

Felix shook his head. “Nothing at this time. Good day to you, Ambassador.”

The skies above Novaris
January 18, 2023
11:45 AM (UTC-7)

Beorhtsige Wulfricsunu was perhaps the most well known for his work as the Permanent Representative to the League of Novaris, but his duties also included that of the Ambassador-at-Large to Novaris. The two offices has always overlapped with each other since the inception of the League of Novaris under the office’s previous occupant.

He set the briefings he was reading on a table and looked across it at none other than Prime Minister Eoforwine Æthelstansunu, who was contemplatively staring at a map of northeast Novaris.

Eoforwine looked up from the map. “I wonder what your impression of the Federation is, Mr. Wulfricsunu.”

“I would be cautious at the very least. They’re a power that we haven’t previously factored for, and with the RCEU and their recent outreach, they’re certainly planning to extend their reach even further.”

Eoforwine nodded. “We certainly have reasons to be wary of them. Our interactions with them certainly have not been that great within the last few years.”

Beorhtsige recalled the hubbub around the Federation’s acquisition of nuclear weapons. That was certainly one way to put it. “Relations certainly could be better. Especially since it’s clear that they’re here to stay.”

“The Federation may have gotten involved in Novaris only relatively recently, but at the very least we need to establish better relations with it,” Eoforwine said. “It always pays to maintain goodwill with other countries, and to improve poor relations where possible. And here, we have certain things over which we may have common interests.”

He looked back at the map of northeast Novaris. “There’s been something that has been bothering me for a while about this map, Mr. Wulfricsunu. I think I know what it is.”

Eoforwine pointed at a certain country on the map. The name Jarisven was printed neatly on it in serif letters.

“You see this, right?”

Beorhtsige nodded.

“I don’t want to anymore.”

Cowlass · August 15, 2023, 7:22pm

Ernest Féret Memorial Airport
January 18, 2023

It was always a strange feeling when one visits a place named after a fallen Côtois soldier, even more so when you are the indirect cause of the memorial. In Akuanism, naming a place after a person means their spirit is alive, it roams the unfamiliar land, in a land where their body has fallen in the name of fighting against oppression. Ernest wasn’t an Akuanist, he was Côtois, a citizen of the Federation and he would be honored for his ultimate sacrifice to protect Ymirland.

The plane landed but some final security checks have to be completed first, all according to protocol when visiting trouble land or places rather hostile to the Federation. Of course Ymirland has calmed down long since the violence of the war in Ymirland, though the risk of Sons of Odin trying something again kept the Ymir and Côtois security on their toes.

“Madam Pierre, we are ready to disembark.” A large ursine informed the Federal Prime Minister, arms resting behind them.

“Thank you for your service Comrade.” Jeanne Pierre stands up, fidgeting with her tie. Thankfully there was not a planned photo op, she could head directly to the hotel and rest for a few moments. The meeting between Tretrid and Ymirland wasn’t until the next day. She stood up from her seat, picking up her briefcase.

Walking towards the airlock of the plane, she took a quiet moment to send a message to her wife that her plane landed.

–
Defense Ministry
Kuoväszna
January 18, 2023

The office of the chief of defense was simplistic in design, modest by all means save for a handful of paintings along the walls of the room. Paintings of the Ny’Sænuri liberation of the northern lands from the fascists of Jarisven, the bold Ny’Sænuri riding on horseback armed with bolt action rifles driving away a so-called ‘superior’ force.

In addition to the paintings of glory, news articles framed in small wooden boxes about various dead Hustrian and Jarisvi soldiers or government officials killed in ‘terrorist’ attacks. Car bombings, lone wolf attacks and the odd coordinated assault on patrols and outposts. The chief held pride in the work of his most loyal of Ny’Sænuri, those who gave up comforts of civilized society and accepted the risk to become a fighter for the liberation of the Akuanists held in the unjust and cruel hands.

The career military man heard the door knock. He cleared his voice and spoke up, “Come in.” Another kemonomimi stepped into the room, fixing their tie. The Ymir ambassador sat down across from General Ny’Välsen.

“I suppose it is not another missing shipment of fertilizer and radio parts?” The general replied with a flat tone, sipping his coffee.

“No, this is about something different than just the usual missing shipments. There is a meeting between my government, Tretrid and the Federation. My government would like to extend our hand to bring Kuoväszna into it, to discuss security arrangements within our little corner of Novaris.” Ymir’s ambassador relaxed into their chair.

“I don’t believe the Côtois government would be very accepting of my government being at such a meeting. Given their rather pompous attitude.” The old general replied, pouring the ambassador a cup of coffee.

“Not very accepting but tolerant, given Jarsiven recent actions reigniting tensions within the region with their terrorist groups. The Federation is reconsidering the situation with your government. Perhaps with the both of us, we can push for… More direct assistance from them than just missing shipments of mislabeled things.” Ymir ambassador warmly accepted their coffee, taking a long sip. “No matter what, we need to show a unified front towards the matter. I’m sure the Federation will see the wisdom in our words and perhaps motivate Tretrid to join in our endeavor.”

The general stayed silent for a few more moments, “I will be there, as will the president for appearances. For a free Nykuzniszna.”

Tretrid · September 21, 2023, 5:59am

Embassy of Tretrid, Kyinster
Kyinster, Ymirland
January 18, 2023

Eoforwine’s motorcade arrived at the Tretridian embassy about half an hour after his plane touched down in Ernest Féret Memorial Airport. He and Beorhtsige stepped out of their vehicle once they had been let through the gate of the complex.

The Tretridian Ambassador to Ymirland, Stiðwyn Cuðheresdohter, was there to greet the two once they were outside.

She shook their hands. “Good afternoon, Mr. Æthelstansunu, Mr. Wulfricsunu. Have you found Kyinster to your liking, so far?”

“As much as I’ve seen it only from behind tinted windows thus far, perhaps,” Eoforwine said.

“There’s a few things we should discuss, but after we’re done, do you wish to tour the embassy?”

It was a tradition for Tretridian Prime Ministers visiting the capitals of other countries for diplomatic summits to tour the Tretridian embassy and meet the diplomatic rank and file.

“Of course.”

The three moved into the Ambassador’s office to discuss last-minute preparations for the summit.

“The Government of Ymirland sent me notification that Kuoväszna has accepted their invitation to attend the conference,” Stiðwyn said.

“Interesting,” Beorhtsige said. “We weren’t sure whether they’d show up, given that relations between Tretrid and Kuoväszna are… not great.”

Eoforwine considered the matter for a moment. “Kuoväszna has an interest in, at the very least, minimizing the threat that Jarisven poses to their security, especially when you account for terrorist organizations in the region like the Sons of Odin. If they have any particular demands for us, however, I suspect it would have something to do with relations between Tretrid and Hustreache.”

“It’s worth noting that the Government of Hustreache lodged a diplomatic complaint with us over this summit,” Beorhtsige said. “I suspect that in response to the summit, they’ll probably reach out to their Morstaybishlian allies for security assistance. Now, Great Morstaybishlia might be an ally, but I’d be wary of drawing them further into Northeast Novaris, given that their involvement there might spark conflict between them and other powers like the Federation, which would not be great.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Eoforwine said.

“In my professional opinion as Ambassador, I’d also suggest considering current bilateral relations between Kuoväszna and Ymirland,” Stiðwyn added. “The two countries work together on a number of issues, not so much because they actually like each other so much as they have certain interests in common and, of course, certain enemies in common as well.”

Beorhtsige nodded. “I would of course be remiss not to mention that the Federation’s behavior would probably be considered peculiar at best if examined through the typical lenses of Tretridian policy analysts. It’s a matter of that they have chosen to reject certain values and uphold others in a way that makes their modes of interstate interaction seemingly eschew certain global norms.”

“The acquisition of nuclear weapons by the Federation comes to mind, especially so soon after the International Forum attempted to institute non-proliferation measures,” Eoforwine said. “What does that mean for what we can expect from Pierre and company tomorrow?”

“Pierre seems, by all accounts, genuine in her interest in spreading socialism globally, as well as countering imperialism worldwide. I suspect that may cause slight difficulties, given Tretrid’s past with Gondwana, though in the case of Northeast Novaris there’s a clear cause for Tretrid and the Federation to cooperate on—the security of the region. Where that is concerned, though, they’d probably have more than a few concerns about Hustreache, given how closely linked Hustreache is to Hirdism.”

“The Federation is heavily involved in Ymirland, and Kuduk to a lesser degree, and so they’d naturally be concerned with the security of the region,” Stiðwyn said. “From their perspective, it’s easy to conclude that Jarisven and Hustreache are threats, given their support of the Sons of Odin and the Ny Ulvrikia National Army respectively.”

“Fredriksen would probably lodge another protest if we openly said that Hustreache were supporting them,” Beorhtsige said in a slightly teasing tone.

“Perhaps, though it’s impossible to deny that there are still links between the HRF (R) and the NUNA. Nonetheless, at the very least Tretrid and the Federation share a common adversary in Jarisven, though Hustreache will remain a significant challenge to reaching any breakthrough in relations in the region.”

“As for bilateral ties between the Federation and Tretrid themselves, those lie outside my domain, since my office is specifically for Novaran affairs.”

Eoforwine nodded. “I did consult with Foreign Minister Wealdmundson and the Ambassador-at-Large to Yasteria on that particular matter. I’m aware that information within the Royal Diplomatic Service is compartmentalized on a need-to-know basis, but I’ve decided that this is the kind of situation where you’d need to know.

“There are goals other than those pertaining to Northeast Novaran security that Tretrid and the Federation may have in common. It may be best to try to improve bilateral relations between Tretrid and the Federation in pursuit of potential future cooperation regarding these goals. If the Federation is to be further involved in Novaris, then it is better to have it be a Federation with stronger diplomatic ties to Tretrid. I would like to raise the possibility that the Federation’s general policy goal of opposing imperialism may be a basis on which Tretrid and the Federation can perhaps cooperate to limit, say, Mirhamian influence abroad.”

“Well, in the case of Mirhaime, it’d wrap around to being under my purview again.” Beorhtsige said dryly. “However, I’d like to note that we’re currently allied with Tavaris, which… does not enjoy friendly bilateral relations with the Federation. Was that discussed?”

“The issue was brought up. There is, strictly speaking, not much Tavaris can do in response, as Tavaris needs its alliance with us as much as we need our alliance with them. We did conclude that we should expect a very significant level of fallout on that end if we achieve a breakthrough with the Federation, but I decided that it was an acceptable risk. If the result of this summit leads to us cooperating on certain common goals that could potentially drastically alter geopolitics, the true extent that we will be doing so will be hidden from view. I’m not sure Tavaris needs to know that we might be getting the Federation further embedded into Novaris.” Eoforwine paused. “Is that everything you need to know? If so, I suppose the embassy tour can begin.”

Norgsveldet · September 21, 2023, 7:49pm

(Joint post with Cowlass)

Ovijrin, Jarisven
High Minister’s Palace
January 19, 2023

The half elven man who had found himself in charge of what likely was the most hated regime in East Novaris could not help but let out a groan in annoyance as he looked at the reports given to him by the High Assembly. One would think a one party state would find itself having easier time making decisions, but the PGP finds itself far too divided on a plethora of issues that any attempts to reform the worst aspects of his nation’s governance has been lacking in successes. Economically they were doing far better with his privatization reforms having brought some new investments into the country, still quite lacking but he was able to secure some deals with Mirhaime and Blåskog. Being mainly the latter after Blåskog’s unfortunate suspension from the NCEF. It has also ensured that he had allies among the bureaucrats and oligarchs who were aligned with his Reformist Faction, the only reason why the Orthodox Faction hasn’t tried to coup him is thanks to that backing. Geopolitical wise Jarisven was almost in the same bad position as it was 20 years ago when he took over. Sure he was able to secure some level of detente and co-existence in East Novaris, but unfortunately the Sons of Odin’s involvement in the Ymirland Civil War has put him in square one. He was hoping he could lower the grotesque large military spending but with the interventions nations like Norgsveldet and Federation have been doing against other regimes similar to his? He couldn’t afford that, at least without the militarists couping him. There being a sudden summit in Kyinster does not improve things either.

He took a sip from his coffee cup as he turned the page on the reports given to him. The budget being slightly larger than that of last year, his attempts to decrease the amount of corruption within the military have played a small part in that. It didn’t exactly make the militarists happy of course but the last they needed was another general getting a yacht instead of money being spent on securing maintenance equipment for their old HK-22s. Having been able to buy it from Blåskog, though they didn’t exactly get it in the well maintained level that the damn king promised. His eye twitched when he thought back to his meeting with the Blåskovian king. He swore he could smell the damn debauchery coming from the elven king when he was there. The way the Blåskovian eyed up on kemonomimi servants made his skin crawl. It basically was raw proof of the Great Seduction taking place. But he had to keep his disgust to himself when he was around Carl. They were arguably the closest thing his country had for partners at the current moment. His thoughts about that damnable meeting were broken however with a knock on his office door.

“Come in.” Tarvan said with a sigh, taking a sip from his coffee cup once more.

A young looking elven man steps into the room, well young by elven standards. His uniform being freshly pressed, buttoned polish and his dozens of medals he ‘earned’ being freshly made for his outfit. In his hand, some fancy latte drink and a Witcain on his wrist. Looking extremely smug as he walked towards the desk, taking a seat in front of Tarvan. Before he even spoke, Tarvan could hear the raw arrogance forming from him. “Mr. High Minister Jonis, you called?”

“Quite so, give me an update on the condition our military is in.” Tarvan poured more coffee into his cup before he continued on. Giving the younger elf a clear stern look. Himself wearing dark gray Gothiric robes with ceremonial chainmail armor underneath. “And don’t try to cover up the issues, you know just as well that other generals have been discharged for being yesmen. If you want to keep your fancy watch and your medals then be frank.”

He only rolled his eyes at the High Minister. “Well, half of our military oil reserves have been sold off. Rain kept into ceiling of the armory down in the capital and rusted a few hundred rifles. Still got a problem with quartermasters selling off military equipment to tourists. Oh, and the majority of our tanks are missing parts from them.” He takes another sip from his drink, “Also majority of the middle rank officers, the colonels absolutely hate you after you cut their bonuses to pay for those jets.”

“Well if they want any access to our nation’s mineral wealth and any say within our bureaucracy then they need to shut the hels up.” Tarvan said in an almost spiteful voice. “Tell them that they will get a wage increase and a bonus If they prove successful in getting our tank fleet in order. We have a large army that needs to be in top shape.”

“Well, if only we had spare money to buy parts for our tanks and provide ‘motivation’ to colonels. Not to mention that a tank without oil is just a fancy paperweight.” He keeps speaking in the damn smug tone, but at least this young blood is being direct with him.

Tarvan groaned in annoyance, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine, the wage increases first and extra funding will be placed to get new parts. I will be contacting the Blåskovian king, he be needing more importers of their oil after Norgsveldet ditched them afterall…” He had to curse himself knowing that he had to talk with Carl again.

Finishing his overly sugary coffee, tossing it into the trash can next to the desk. “Another topic is the generals’ secretaries. Now it seems silly getting them all a gift, however if you like knowing what they’re doing and saying. The secretaries are the eyes and ears for you.” He takes out a small piece of paper, “I took the liberty to get them all flowers and various gifts, you will comp the cost no?”

The High Minister internally sighed as he signed the bill that was over 100,000 JKN worth (10,000 SHD). Giving the young elf a small glare as he handed the bill back to him. It was a smart decision to promote Henrrow Moringson, giving Tarvan a valuable ally within the military, but by the gods he was smug. “Done. Before you go I have one final request.”

“Don’t worry, I already promised myself to stay away from your wife.” He gives that damnable look again to him.

“I’d punch you if you weren’t so damn useful.” The High Minister rolled his eyes at the damnable fool’s joke. “I need you to help prepare plans for resistance groups in case our nation gets invaded. The Northern Region is our best bet for a good insurgency.” He let out a small sigh, before holding his hand up to ensure Moringson did not speak up just yet. “I will increase your wages and help you get out of trouble next time you anger someone if you do this for me.”

“Consider it done, my girlfriend needs new earrings anyway. Well, one of my girlfriends.” He gives a chuckle to himself, and much to the annoyance of the High Minister. He stands up, offering to shake the older elf’s hand.

“Just avoid flirting with Mr. Råtson’s wife this time around. I anger the Orthodoxs enough by simply existing.” Tarvan took hold of Moringson’s hand, shaking it.

“Don’t worry, I took your advice and took his daughter out for a nice time around the capital.” He smiles widely at him, with that stupid, damnable boyish charm of his.

The High Minister took note of that to keep in mind to ensure his daughters were as far away from this man as possible. “Have a good day, Mr Moringson. Glory for Darzisa.”

“Yes, yes Glory for Darzisa and all that.” He let go of the High Minister’s hand. Placing nonchalantly into his pockets and leaving Tarvan’s office. Though not closing the door behind him, letting the High Minister see the little shit flirting with his secretary.

Tarvan walked towards the door, closing it harshly, hopefully giving the young boy a small jump as he did so. “Almost as bad as Carl…” He said, shaking his head as he once more sat down behind his desk as he called up the Blåskovian King.

Cowlass · November 30, 2023, 3:37am

Base Mordred, Kyinster
Kyinster, Ymirland
January 18, 2023

Base Mordred, the center for Federation power projection across Novaris. Being the command center for not just themselves, but for the RCEU and the Norgsveltian Crown Realm. The sprawling base was technically outside of Kyinster, but the sheer size of it reached the capital of the melancholia country. It is a hub of activity, endless military transportation craft and it was a common sight to see naval ships stationed here. While they’re was many flags here, the one that flew above them all was the white, red and yellow colors of the Federation.

The massive base is named after an ancient Hjørdist tale of a dragon-knight borned a bastard twice, unwedded mother and a half-kemonomimi half-elf. Her father was one of many of Thor’s offspring, and mother dragon-whisper. When Mordred came of age, she led a crusade of flames until she was put to the blade and casted out of the nine realms until Ragnarök arrives. Tale has many interpretations, but the modern view of the old tale was of a child casted out of paradise returned for revenge only to be casted out again and to rise again in the final war to strike down the family that refused her thrice.

It wasn’t a tale or an interpretation of Norgsveltian’s (or any other Ulvriktru majority nation) particularly liked but for Côtois’ view. It is a tale that was deeply entrenched into their mind. Story that fused with the collective culture mindset. The tale felt as if it became part of them as much as it did their own actual history. It was only fitting for them to name the base after such an iconic tale for them.

–

Admiral Raphaëlle Blanchet, the woman who won the conflict in Ymirland against the Concordian Corporatocracy, led Federation forces in the intervention in West Borea and a handful of other conflicts. Now in command of all Federation forces in Novaris, and now holds the fate of Jarsiven in her hands. Well it would be more correct in her folders, it wouldn’t be the Federation if they didn’t already planned on invading or at least being at war with any country on Urth. It’s just good practice.

Her office was in standard fashion of a Côtois’ military fashion. Simplicate mixture of concrete, wood and glass. Photos of her family, including her daughter-in-law Alexandra with her son Thierry. A Federation flag hanging behind her, next the portrait of the current FPM Madam Pierre.

Admiral of the Federation, plays two roles one was the military role and second was playing diplomat. There, of course, was the diplomatic corps but she was head of operations and the lead unofficial diplomat. Meaning when it comes to talks with Tretrid and Kuoväszna, she has to be there.

“Ah, Madam Pierre, a pleasure as always!” The kitsune gave a smile as the woman stepped into her office. She stood up and gave a salute towards her.

“Admiral Blanchet, I trust you’ve been keeping busy.” Pierre took her seat across from the admiral. Blanchet walked towards the coffee pot, pouring two cups for both of them. “I take it you are here for a more personal report of our situation in Novaris.” The admiral placed down the coffee cups in front of them.

“Merci.” Jeanne took a sip from her coffee, “Indeed, I know our continued involvement isn’t well received by other Novaran nations here. Could you give your personal opinion on the potential threats the other nations pose?”

Blanchet took her seat again, “Tretrid, has historically always played defensively unless they have a strong hand at the table and doesn’t bluff often. If I was playing their hand, I would say they’re bringing us more involved into Novaris affairs to control our impact within Novaris.”

“They always have been cautious when it came to placing sanctions on the Federation throughout the decades.” Pierre sipped her coffee, “I’m curious, legitimizing our involvement within Novaris certainly wouldn’t do them any favors diplomatically. Jarisven, in its current form, should be eradicated. I don’t believe the Tretrid government would have the spirit in them to do anything more than what they have previously done-so in the past.”

“If I was to take their perspective, they’re placing Jarisven on the altar as a means to keep our forces occupied for years. Occupation and rebuilding of the country alone will take quite a bit of Federation attention in Novaris.” Blanchet replied in a calm tone, “Not to mention the nation building projects in the separatist republics off of Jarsiven.”

“You believe they’re willing to go to war?” Pierre raised an eyebrow, not quite believing it.

“It’s not a secret the Federation wants to remove Jarsiven and that was before the RCEU was formed. If I was the Tretrid government, with their heavy focus on stability within Novaris. Then I would look at Federation as one views a wildfire. To control a wildfire, you need to have controlled burns to limit the spread. They most certainly are concerned with the less flashy methods the Federation spreads democracy through the International Socialist Endowment Fund, Radio-Labor and all other manner of organizations. I’m certain it would be brought up, even more so as we further entrench ourselves into Novaran politics.”

“I will keep it in mind, what about Hustreache?”

“To say as briefly as possible, they’re concerned and wished to turn back the time to before the renewed tensions. They almost certainly are or will be seeking closer military ties with their benefactors such as the Concordian and Morst Imperialists. That being said, I don’t believe they will interfere with operations here unless the Federation does something first. They have a working relationship with our ally Ymirland and for all purposes, only nation in the region they will have a dialogue with.”

“Any suggestions with Hustreache?”

“Our allies, both Ymirland and Kuduk want stability in the region but only Ymirland wants the removal of the Jarsiven threat. No one wants another cold war and frankly I believe it would be unnecessary for covert operations with Hustreache. They’re becoming tolerable, and most importantly opening up. While they’re not going to accept our role here, they won’t actively object to involvement if given reassurances.”

“Norgsveldet would object to becoming friendly with Hustreache, at any level. Not to mention, they’re a repugnant state, and a Hiridist driven government. While I can understand the concerns of our allies, I believe Kuduk out of all nations understand our morals must guide us in all things including foreign policy.” Pierre finished her coffee cup, standing up to go over to the pot and refill it.

“I’m not saying we shake hands but we play nice for now until the region is stabilized and integrated into the RCEU. Everyone knows about the Federation’s stick but we need to show them the poison carrot. Once we soothe their paranoia, we start using R-L, ISEF and other organizations we have in our hand to promote our values and socialism. After which we can start operations to establish a democracy a few years if not decades down the line. First however, we must get them drawn into our influence and economic output. After we’re finished with Jarisven, they will be surrounded by RCEU members or aligned to the RCEU states. The potential for trade and economic benefit would undoubtedly seem attractive to the capitalists in Hustreache.”

“I see, what is your opinion on Kuoväszna?” Pierre returned to her seat with a fresh cup of coffee.

“It is a military dictatorship that justifies its existence through the Jarsiven threat. When the Jarsiven threat is handled, they will either shift gears towards Hustreache as the threat or they will return to democratic state. If they return to democracy, it provides a unique opportunity to influence them and establish a proper democracy there. They’re a majority Akuan state, which frankly brings them more in line with socialist values than potentially Jarisven could and their current economic isolation brings opportunity. Once we secure the region, RCEU will become the majority trade partner by default assuming they are not joining the Union. They will be relying on our socialist investments into the country, which can further expand the socialist base there along with the other operations at play in the country.”

“Seems you’ve been planning for the downfall of Jarsiven for quite some time now, and making quite a bit of assumptions.”

“You wouldn’t have been in charge of Novaran Command if I wasn’t” Blanchet gave a smirk. “I firmly believe, with the exception of Hushreache and Kuduk, we can turn the East Novaris region into Democratic-Socialist stronghold within a decade. In two decades, our future allies will be able to spread socialism on their own across Novaris. Once Jarsiven has been destroyed, our influence within the region won’t be able to be matched and then once it is stabilized properly during and after occupation of Jarsiven. Provided with economic investment, from RCEU and your friends in Rochefort street, we can create a strong integrated economy among neighbors to further promote democratic ways of things, creation of a whole region that produces the worker-exploitive free goods and services. Which, as long it is successful, proves that socialism doesn’t just make countries like Durakia but more nations like the Federation. Able to have socialism but with a high living standard of living.”

Pierre sipped her coffee, “Sometimes, I do wonder when you are going into politics Blanchet.”

“I would rather remove my tail than be a politician. I like dealing with real mud more than I like to deal with metaphoric mud. Besides, if I was a politician, who else are you going to call up to do your dirty work?” Blanchet gives a laugh.

“Speaking of dirty work, have you found anyone within the Jarsiven government both in exile and in office that would fit into our plans?”

“No one with the charisma for a leadership role, but within the exile there are few individuals that would be swayed to the side of democracy. In the Jarisven itself, we won’t know until we get there but I believe the bureaucrats would always enjoy having job security.”

“Reassuring but what can you tell me about the imperialists in Mirhaime.”

“They should be destroyed”

“Besides that.”

“The Neo-Imperialists have been rubbing Tretrid, and anyone else with a half-decent sense of morality the wrong way. They’re making moves in Gondwana is nothing less than renewed colonist fever, and their actions clearly have shown they must be countered with greater force. As I understand it, Tretrid has been long looking for a partner to counter them.”

“You say partner Blanchet, but I think you mean outsourcing.”

Blanchet gave a shrug, and gave a small nod. “That fair point, but I don’t believe Tretrid would want to purely outsource their Mirhaime problem, if they did well. It gives us a lot of lee-way within Novaris politics and I can safely say that the Tretridian state wouldn’t enjoy the Federation method of handling issues even without direct conflicts. Our ability in influence and plan in North-Eastern Novaris is purely based on our allies, to which they will have a much tougher time curtailing. With the rest of Novaris, then it became more complex and Tretrid long established itself as a power here with diplomatic influence.”

“As well the Federation being the newcomers to the region, and not having the greatest of reputations when it comes to the capitalist swine. Factoring in our plans within the region, we won’t have diplomatic support here outside of our allies. We should consider ourselves to be in hostile territory diplomatically. Though our support organizations should win some of the Novaran proletariat over to our righteous cause.” Pierre finished her cup again, leaning back to relax in her chair.

“I would like to bring u-” Blanchet stopped speaking as a kemonomimi in a suit knocked on the office door. “Come in.” The kitsune pushed her paperwork back into its folder.

A kemonomimi man stepped in, wearing a suit. “Madam Pierre, there is a phone call from High Jarlyia Alexandra. She requests your assistance in a government meeting.”

Pierre stood up, dusting herself off. “We cut it short here, but it’s good to see you in person again, Raphaëlle.”

The admiral stood up and gave a salute towards Jeanne. “We have plenty of time to talk Jeanne, now go wipe the royal’s nose before they start to cry.” They gave a small smirk.

“Watch it now, Raphaëlle or else I have you on dish duty for the next royal cat race.” Jeanne forced her lips upwards to make a smile back. Fighting through her medical condition that always made it difficult to express her honest emotions.

Tretrid · December 20, 2023, 5:19am

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Eoforwine Æthelstansunu stood in the conference room in front of a row of Tretridian and Côtois flags standing in a row. It was time for the obligatory photo op with Federal Prime Minister Jeanne Pierre.

Eoforwine never really considered himself truly a natural at the performative parts of governance, but by now he certainly had become good at acting through all of it. It certainly made him seem like a person fit to govern.

He waited. And waited.

And nothing happened.

Eoforwine looked around him. Where was everyone, anyway? The press wasn’t here, despite this being a photo op. He was the only person here, in fact.

He walked to the center of the room, facing the side that Pierre was supposed to walk from. He then turned around and nearly jumped out of surprise.

Now at the spot where he had been was his oncetime friend, Æthelwine Heardsunu. The lapel of his suit jacket was adorned with a pin depicting the flag of the League of Novaris, its distinct bright gold popping out against the dark, muted backdrop of the jacket fabric.

“This isn’t real,” Eoforwine said.

Æthelwine simply shook his head. “No, this isn’t.” He approached Eoforwine, and stopped once the two were arm’s reach away from each other.

“You’re not him.”

“No, I am not, either. But why is it that I appear so, nonetheless?” The former Secretary-General paused for a moment. “Do you remember the accident, nearly fourteen years ago? What you had said was the choice that faced me after it happened? I chose one way, and you chose the other path, or should I say, you continued on the path you already were on. Why did you take the same path you wouldn’t let me consider?”

Because far more people would have been hurt in that case. Yet Æthelwine, as well as this simulacrum of him, already knew that.

“Were you trying to spare me from making the sacrifices you’ve made, Eoforwine? We’re fundamentally not too different. I think that was why we were drawn towards each other in the first place.”

Æthelwine turned and walked towards the flags. He held up a Côtois flag and examined the fleur-de-lis at the center. “You envy Pierre, don’t you? You wish you could try painting the map red with socialism like she seeks to. You wish you could have Tretrid react to sapient rights abuses the way the Federation does.” He turned to look back at Eoforwine. “Isn’t that what you tried in Balistria? Using military brutality to make an example of them?”

Eoforwine did not bother answering. He knew this echo of his former friend already knew.

“You know you’re taking a gamble. You know that you may not be able to stem the red tide, and it can easily wash away Tretrid. Are you really sure that you are in control of this situation?” The voice of doubt paused. “No, you don’t. I wouldn’t be asking you if you didn’t. You know this.”

“The destruction of Jarisven is simply the right thing to do.”

“Perhaps. I won’t dispute that the end of the regime there would decrease the amount of sapient suffering in this world of ours. Yet you know, as do I, that in these affairs we must consider what must come after. The war will no doubt be won, but what about the peace? A botched peace could easily make the situation far worse. And don’t forget that, whatever happens, you have to look the Tretridian people in the eyes and tell them that it was for their sake. Remember that it is their mandate with which you occupy your office. While our respective paths have led the two of us to far different destinies, you still must carry out your duty to Tretrid specifically, just like mine is to the League above all else. In the end, will history and the Tretridian people look back on your actions and find them justified?”

In the end, history will find such actions justified. If there was one quotation that underpinned everything Eoforwine did, it was that. “They will.”

“Perhaps.”

There was a long, ponderous pause after that.

“You know, Eoforwine, I’ve been thinking about something. When I served in the cabinet, I became close friends with a fellow cabinet minister,” Æthelwine said, now looking at one of the Tretridian flags. “I wonder what became of him. Is he still around, or has his work entirely consumed him and left behind an empty shell giving empty smiles and empty promises?” He looked at Eoforwine again. “Eoforwine, what are you now? Are you proud of what you have made yourself? Where is the person I once called a friend? He certainly would never have ordered that Correvan ship sunk.”

That question did not merit answering.

“Are you just here to mock me?” Eoforwine asked, instead.

Æthelwine shook his head. “I wouldn’t be telling these things to you if you didn’t already actively harbor such thoughts. After all, I’m not him.” That last sentence was, in fact, said in a mocking tone. “There is no one in this wide world of ours that hates you more than you hate yourself.”

“Then I have nothing more to say to you,” Eoforwine said.

“And yet I am here because you always have more to say to yourself. I am ultimately a projection created by your own mind. Æthelwine reminds you of what you could have been like, had things gone differently. That’s why you’ve given me the form that I currently inhabit, though my thoughts and words are yours. Unlike him, you know exactly everything you’ve done in the name of your office and the Kingdom of Tretrid.

“I tire of this. Begone.”

“Then I shall take my leave of you. Remember, however, that the voice of doubt that I speak with has always been with you, and always will be with you.” Æthelwine raised a hand in a farewell gesture. “Adieu, Prime Minister.”

And the world dissolved as Eoforwine Æthelstansunu, Prime Minister of Tretrid, woke up.

Cowlass · April 2, 2024, 5:14am

Palace of Tolvstat, Kyinster
Kyinster, Ymirland
January 19, 2023

Always with diplomatic circles they demand photos of everything, a photo here and a photo there. A minor annoyance at most, and always full of tradition, diplomatic protocol and a dozen other things tied to it.

The meeting palace was place of the Jarlnja, a standard palace that bared the marks of the war they won ever so long ago. Checkpoints and barbed wire aside, the palace was reimagined in gothic designs after the bombings of the north. Gothic in design, and features to boot. Meeting place itself was a simple one, a conference room designed in such a way to meet the Côtoise preference that meant the most basic of designs, chairs for the press and a flags at either position side of the given entrance for the two leaders.

Frankly it was the most neutral of grounds between Tretrid and the newcomers of the region, regardless how much more ‘regional focus’ powers complained. The Federation was here and they always played for keeps ever since their failure in Bana in the 80s. By special order from the powers that be, the Tretrid PM will enter first and then madame Pierre will enter, in some small respect given to Tretrid authority over in Novaris.

Prime Minister Æthelstanesunu walked in as per the predetermined script for this event. He played his part to the fullest, as befitting the country he stood for. Tretrid was, fundamentally, the power of the Novaran status quo, after all, and by the accounts of many, Eoforwine was the most powerful person in Novaris. Yet it certainly did not feel that way to him.

Federal Prime Minister Pierre stormed into the room, hands resting behind her back and she stepped forward. It was perhaps the first time the Tretridian actually fully saw just… How massively short she was, perhaps barely to his elbow. Yet she walked as if she was the most powerful person in the room, without a second thought in utter confidence. To be fair, her medical condition, Duval Syndrome most certainly helped with that. Jeanne Pierre reached out her hand up towards him, her angry looking purple eyes drilling into his own. She spoke in a tone that would send a shiver to any sane person. “Mister Æthelstanesunu, it is a pleasure.” She spoke in perfect unaccented Frakanic, the translators in their earpieces will do the needed work.

Eoforwine took Pierre’s hand and shook it. If he had been fazed by Pierre’s apparent demeanor, he did not show it. “Mrs. Pierre, the pleasure is all mine,” he said. The two leaders turned to the cameras so the press could take their pictures. There always had to be room for pageantry in meetings such as these.

Jeanne’s face didn’t even remotely change, her fiery, angry looking expression didn’t slip up once. Her eyes looked towards the flashing cameras and other assorted expressions. It wasn’t uncommon for various world leaders and important figures to be caught off-guard by her medical condition. She learned from experience its best not to bring it up to them or say anything about it to them. She pulled out her chair to the table, without a second glance. Breaking off her strong hold of his handshake to sit down, as it is all was all practice to her. Still facing towards the eager press.

Eoforwine adjusted his chair and sat down in turn. To him, too, this was just yet another long-rehearsed move in the oft-performed dance of high-profile summits. He, too, kept his face on the cameras.

Pierre spoke up first, opening up with a joke. Well she thinks it’s a joke, at least. “As in my nation, the sapient brain stops when the bullet hits on them.” While its a common joke in the Federation given their rather dark sense of humor it might not carry well with people of Novaris. Her wife always said she should try to use more humor in her speech though, but just incase she spoke up again. “It is a pleasure to be here in Novaris, and I thank the Ymir government for hosting this meeting.”

“It is good to finally meet you as well. This has been a long time coming,” Eoforwine said. He did not react to Pierre’s joke.

The complete dead silence from the audience proved that humor in the Federation wasn’t quite at international level as one would think. “Indeed it has, before we begin. I believe a small number in the audience might have a misunderstanding about the Federation present here in Novaris. I would like to be clear, the Federation is here to act as purely a benefactor and a defender of truly democratic states. We’re not interested in reigniting a cold war, or a hot one for that, regardless of what some say in the media.” Jeanne kept her aggressive, angry sounding tone. “We’re here for the benefit of all sapients on Urth, both in economic and political.”

“Indeed,” Eoforwine said. “Tretrid and the Federation have had a number of unfortunate misunderstandings in recent memory, but the facts on the ground remain that we are both committed to the advancement of sapient rights and democracy across Urth.”

“There is a minitory, a loud minority that have expressed their concerns about the Federation’s involvement in Novaris. Especially after the expulsion of Concordian Corporatocracy forces from Ymirland. Let me make it clear, the Federation is not here to start conflicts or bring a violent red revolution across East Novaris. The Federation’s foremost goal is stability and peaceful growth. The Armed Forces of the Federation and RCEU will only ever act in defense.” Pierre took a sip from her water, looking into the crowd of seated reporters. She noticed a few familiar faces in the crowd, and mentally prepared herself if those reporters decided to start yelling out questions. Though she couldn’t say the same for her counterpart. Reporters from the Federation tend to be a rather aggressive sort.

“Tretrid, for its own part, is doing this in the hopes of bringing East Novaris to a new, prosperous future,” Eoforwine said. “Tretrid also wishes to turn the page on relations with the Federation and believes that they may make for a good strategic partner given where our interests overlap.”

“To that we are in agreement on, East Novaris for too long has suffered from instability and border conflicts. The RCEU and Tretridian assistance in East Novaris, it will become a beacon of democratic values and stability on the continent.” Pierre gave a look towards the crowd, staring one reporter in particular down. “Strategic partnership between our two nations, and the RCEU as a whole would be beneficial in reinforcing democratic states within Novaris, rather than oppose them.” The reporter in question kept his mouth sealed, Jeanne remembering him from the Vorvick Dinner event and his creative methods of asking questions.

“The only people with cause to fear this meeting are those who oppose a free and democratic Novaris. East Novaris will be an example to not just Novaris, but all of Urth of what we can achieve if we all come together in support of prosperity and freedom.”

“As my counterpart put it, there is no reason to be concerned about Federation involvement, nor about our partnership unless the person or nation in question is anti-democratic or benefiting from another nation’s suffering. It’s why at this conference, we openly invited everyone in North-Eastern Novaris to have a seat at the table, out of those nations only two nations rejected our invitation. Jarsiven and Hustereache, the biggest opponents to our growing partnership and the democratic values we hold.”

“Time will tell if they come around to our initiative or whether they will be caught up by the ever-blowing winds of change and be left behind in the past,” Eoforwine said. “For my part, I will say that the door remains open for those who wish to be a part of this new Northeast Novaris, and that I believe everyone involved will find it in their long-term interest to make use of it.”

“The door will remain open, but our minds will-not less we allow our minds to fall out. Anyone can come into our new North-Eastern Novaris, but let me be clear, democracy is a non-negotiable factor in this. We’re not making a new Novaris that is a safe haven for terrorists, fascists and those ilk as it has been in the past. We plan, with our partners, to make a safe, stable and democratic region.” Jeanne partly was surprised by her Tretridan counterpart’s comments, it almost sounded threatening. Perhaps he read up a bit on the cultural aspects of Jarsiven public speaking or maybe he wanted them dead as much as she does.

With another round of flashing cameras, the stage performance they put on came to a close. Pierre standing up first, offering a hand towards the Tretridan PM. Gesture of strength in more religious Ulvriktru minded countries than Tretrid. After this pony show, it was time to finally for some actual policy discussion.

Tretrid · June 2, 2024, 4:48am

Interior of the Palace
Kyinster, Ymirland
January 19, 2023

The room they were led into was a specialized built by Côtoise engineers. Walls being reinforced with steel, then filled with sound damping foam and wrapped around with special materials to blockout radio and cell signals. It was windowless, and located in the center of the palace, far away from the front gate to the frozen land.

The furniture itself was simplistic, a round circle table at the center with chairs around it. Two land-line phones at the far end of the room, being connected to their respective embassies. The room was built circular as well, having no corners. The chairs were pre-pulled out for everyone, as well as a small snack-cart off to the side wall. Next to the snack-cart, was a small table with a metal cylinder on top of it, ready to dispense coffee as needed. Côtoise marines held positions at either side of the door.

Madame Pierre took a seat, facing towards the door. A nearby assistant handing her a coffee, small silent dialogue between them to exchange pleasantries. Turn back to face the door, waiting for the Tretridian delegation to arrive. Files stacked in front of her, giving the pageantry of importance and knowledge.

The Tretridian delegation walked in shortly afterwards. Eoforwine took the seat across from her and silently sat down. He was joined by his side by Ambassador Beorhtsige Wulfricesunu, who gestured at the assistant for coffee, though the Prime Minister did no such thing. The ambassador laid a folder of his own filled with a few papers in front of him.

Pierre opened the top folder, taking a quick look at the contents. “Mister Eoforwine, I believe we’re both of the same mind when it comes to Jarsiven, but I think it would be wise to get the less exciting aspects of the meeting out of the way first.” She spoke in Frakanic, her translator next to her performing their duty without a moment missed. Relying her words in Tretridian tongue. “We’re here to stay, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to start shaping the whole of the continent. Not now at least.” She wanted to get the reassurances out of the way first, Federation not having the best of reputation when it comes to key capitalistic nations. Her purple eyes rising up from the folder to look at Eoforwine, trying to shift through any potential body movements that might give something away.

“I don’t think either of us would be here if anybody here thought the Federation would not be here to stay,” Eoforwine said simply. He let his own interpreter relay his words in Frakanic before continuing. “Given the current way things appear to be going for Novaris at large, and especially in Northwest Novaris in particular, I think that it is a good time to reevaluate relations between our two countries.” He paused briefly, again. “I doubt that it will be surprising to hear that whatever new order ends up shaping in Northeast Novaris, Tretrid will seek to find a major place in it in one way or another. Within that, I can see plenty of opportunity for cooperation regarding this region.”

“Of course the Tretridian government wouldn’t actively try to… Overrule and try to dominate the native Northeast Novari people.” Pierre took a sip of her coffee. “Of course, there is always room for mutual benefit and growth as long as it acknowledges the upfront necessities of any endeavors.” She opened the file to her right, sliding it over towards the Tretridian prime minister. “My government in partnership with our allies in the region has planned for a mutually beneficial international organization within the area. Upholding democracy, worker rights and so forth, as well defense.” The folder has some small details about the ‘organization’ including formation of the governing body, economic aspects and so forth. “I believe this would be of interest for your government.”

Eoforwine took the file and read through it, and once he was done he passed it over to Beorhtsige. “This is certainly an ambitious endeavor. I believe we can support such an organization, especially as we would seek to help support it in upholding sapient rights and establishing peace and prosperity as has not been seen in the region since the Ulvriktruar Wars of Religion.” He paused. “There’s always the question of what place Hustreache will have in this new Northeast Novaris. If this organization is formed, we would seek to encourage Hustreache to, quite bluntly, play nicely with its neighbors. It certainly will have much more to fear from what would happen if it refused to do so.”

“It’s ambitious but as according to Côtois O.I.I.I.A. operations, we have identity the groups that hold keys to power for long-lasting stability. Jarisvi and Kuoväinne farmers, Ymir industrial class, as well Hustrian mineral wealth. I would like to highlight for you, that everyone in the region is just as rich if not richer than Hustreache in mineral resources. Only Ymirland and Hustreache have made the leap to the international markets for their minerals. When the commonwealth organization is formed, those minerals are going to be quite far more accessible, and far cheaper than what Hustreache can offer. If they don’t play ‘nice’ as you put it, then they will not only be a military set-back but they will economically suffer for it.” Pierre pushed over another opened folder, showing various mineral reports of high-likelihood untapped resources in the future organization. “Kuovälsna reports, while suspect, have some validity and can easily reach its full potential within a decade.”

“It ought to be in their best interest to participate. Whether there is currently significant political will to do so right now may be a different question altogether.” Eoforwine turned to Beorhtsige, who handed him a file from his folder. “I think we need to discuss the current direct bilateral relations between Tretrid and the Federation as they stand in general, outside of the context of Northeast Novaris. There have been a few incidents and misunderstandings that need to be cleared up to form a basis for further cooperation.”

“Relations have best been strained between our nations, however in the interest of our cooperation. It’s best to leave such misgivings and incidents to the lay side of history. I can agree a baseline is required between our nations.” Taking another sip from her coffee, she spoke with an aggressive tone as due to her medical condition. “The Federation doesn’t current interest in Novaris outside of our allies and Northeast Novaris. As for other factors, I believe we have agreement on a certain nations within Novaris that has unjust morally and anti-socialist control in Gondwana.”

“I’m glad to see that we agree on that. I believe that we should make steps here that will help forestall any future breakdowns in communication, especially if Tretrid and the Federation are to work together for the betterment of Northeast Novaris. In that line, I would like to propose an increased mutual diplomatic presence in each of our countries and, in case times call for such, a direct line of communication between Cynebury and République C.D.”

“That can be done without issue, I believe in addition to having a more clear cut line of communication between our respective capitals. I think it would be wise to further our bond between us, both in the public eye and within our own respective population. Series of some cultural programs, some between Tretrid and Federation alone, others with the greater Northeastern Novaris region.” She waited a moment before speaking again. “Perhaps a limited targeted immigration campaign as well, the Federation had done such programs in the past with other nations.”

“We would be receptive to those ideas, though in the case of immigration programs it would be best if it were started relatively narrow in scope. The details will no doubt have to be hashed out for some time after this summit. Perhaps there could also be something to encourage university exchange programs as well.”

“I believe such things can be arranged on my own end. On behalf of several of my government’s allies, we would like to formally invite Tretridian into our research projects in the Rotantic ocean. Ymir in particular having an interest in this endeavor, I might include. Other than that, I believe we could move to the twenty hundred alligators in the room.” Pierre tried to raise an eyebrow but it maintained its stance as a frown.

“We would gladly accept the invitation. There will no doubt be quite a few academics back at home who will be excited at the opportunity to have a hand in these research projects.” Eoforwine paused. “So, since that seems to be everything else, it is time to discuss the aberration on the map that calls itself Jarisven.”

Pierre leaned back in her chair. “Jarisven has been a blight on Urth for too long. It’s been a long goal for my country to remove the fascist state. Now we have the best conditions for social and political upheaval in Jarisven, even more-so it comes at a Sou on the Krone. We won’t even to deploy too much militarial forces.” She reaches over to grab a folder from a left-hand pile. “First thing however, I will need Tretridian’s full commitment for this and cone of silence.” She held the file close to her heart.

“I assure you that our first priority in the region will be the eradication of the Jarisvi state. We would never do anything that would work to prolong its existence.”

“I require a clear answer, full commitment and what we discuss here about Jarisven doesn’t leave this room.”

“As far as the outside world will be concerned, this part of the discussion will not have happened. The only other person who may have a need to know may be the RIS Chairman, but whatever we discuss now will never reach the outside world. In that capacity we would be willing to fully commit to the results of our discussion here.”

Pierre layed out the folder, sliding it over to them. “We have made contact with a very high level military figure in the Jarisvi government who is more than happy to join us in the side of the righteous. He has been feeding us intelligence about their military capabilities, important key figures in government who didn’t come-up at first in our studies of them and certain money-laundering schemes.” The folder showing various military reports, Jarisvi government reports on the current state of their military and the corruption issues they have. Pierre took out another folder, opening it. “We also discover certain elements within their minority Akuan and Duarist regions, that we believe we soon result in them attempt to gain independence from Jarsiven which of course, the other factions in government strongly dislike however we have it on good authority from our contact that the tyrant in chief, Mr. Jonis will likely approve of it because he believes the military primary supports him.” She slides it over, folder containing various policing reports about civil uprising and closed-door discussion within the Jarisvi government itself about such things. “This of course doesn’t include the recent totally surprising issues with their crop yields within the last five years. Suffering from… Diseases and pests that have drastically been hurting their farmers.” She raised her fingers to provide air quotes about the ‘totally surprising issues.’ “There are of course other elements we have been made aware of thanks to our contact, which can be provided to your office at the highest of secrecy less we risk our contact.”

Eoforwine took the documents and skimmed through them. “It’s promising that the Federation already has an intelligence source from within the government itself. Has he given any indication whether there are like-minded people in the government that could possibly form the basis of a coup against the current regime?”

“They have indeed, a nice list of various administrators, crypto-secularists, military staff, some oligarchs who want to retire and not in the dead way. Of course, they all want something in return for it but it can be arranged easily enough. Another highlight of their offerings is they provided a nice list of individuals within government and industry who can be bribed or blackmailed into going along with it.” Pierre slid over a list of names. “All of these people are in Rikevaarland, that has either connection to them or are themselves. Most trust-fund and oligarch children. To be honest, the contact we have handed the government over on a golden plate and didn’t want too much in return in the grand scale of things.”

“Excellent. When we pull the trigger, there will be a new government in place afterwards, instead of one that we will have to build from scratch. Has your government developed a plan for when and how the current government will be removed from power?”

“They have a government-in-exile, who have already agreed to our terms and made peace with it. Ymir and my own government have worked with them to create a plan for the transition process, working alongside our contract. We have arranged a series of protests and civil disruption events with them, though to be honest. It will primarily be with a more older generation than the younger ones, but the farmers and others in the agricultural sector according to our projections will be greatly disrupted thus begin to rebel against the fascist government as well. As for when the bullet is fired, it all depends on when Mr. Jonis makes his move, when it happens. The ball is in his court so-to-speak, all we can do right not is provide diplomatic support to the exile government, provide military equipment to our Kuoväinne allies and perform less-than publicly known actions against Jarsiven oligarchs to worsen their situation.”

Cowlass · November 16, 2024, 5:59pm

Floating City; Ward 8
Neo-Fantøm; Rikevaari Maritime Control;
January 26, 2023

The so-called floating city of Neo-Fantøm was limited to more than a series of boats tied together with anchors weighed into the ocean depths. Hodgepodge of ships, wooden and steel sharing chains together to keep each other stable. Cargo vessels make up the mainshare of space, acting as an all-in-one administration, utilities and commerce zones. The fleet of stationary ships was unsightly to say the least, but it served a purpose of keeping the most extreme riff raff away from the more wealthy (and therefore more important) people. No one truly claims these areas despite government claims, rather it was a network of ethnic councils, gangs and neighborhood assemblies that keep guard over the area. Ethnic tensions in these areas were always high, and politically its best left unsaid less you find yourself at the wrong end of a knife.

Despite the chaos of the fleet, it was a key part of the Neo-Fantøm ecosystem. The refused, the damned, the trash and forgotten of society will end up here to offer their services. Services usually reserved for those either in the system or the rich, at a low cost and risk of infections or failures. Firearms, medical attention, drugs, services, you name it the floating haven will have it. At far more affordable rates than the Western Andies or the Rikevaari elves could offer. Even better when dealers in the city on the water have a nasty habit of accidentally scratching and pouring acid on serial numbers on firearms.

It was a place to get lost and never found in, a perfect place for certain government backed groups to hide and agencies that had more black ink covering it than not. Truthfully though no one wants to admit it, the city belonged to the NIB more than anyone else did. They didn’t administrate it or directly control it, but one could feel their presence in every step. Even if no agents were on the ship, the fear of them was held by every crew member or citizen in the city. Everyone eager to snitch their neighbor or bunkmate out if so-much was suspected of working against the bureau despite the claims of reforms being made. Their legacy of terror always made itself welcome when it became of use. Physically they controlled very little in the floating stationary flotilla. Gangs didn’t bend the knee to the bureau, but they did stay clear of the trench coats when they stepped aboard. When Rikevaari corporate security steps aboard the ships, gangs raise eyebrows and crowbars until they offer them a suitable toll fee to cross their territory. Currency, particularly United Krone is language de facto here, though Red Krone and Aszar Russ can still cross a few planks here.

–

A slim yet firm elven man leaned against the ship’s hall, covering their mouth with their elbow as they gave a cough. Giving an annoyed look towards a trio of kemonomimi sitting at a table playing with some sort of Akuan nonsense board game. The largest kemonomimi, a kitsune taking a drag of their cigarette. Blowing the smoke into the air, staining the makeshift wooden ceiling above them. The short and fat kemonomimi, a nekomimi with a pierced ear smacking their gums as they chewed far too damn loudly, placed a play tile onto the table before standing up. Placing their hands into the hoodie’s pocket, before disappearing up the stairs.

The elven man finally spoke up in a deeply annoyed tone. “Where is he going?” Folding their arms over their chest, giving a look towards the stairs.

“Probably checking on the lookout.” The large kitsune took another drag from their cigarette, leaning back against the seat. “Probably ‘round that time anyhow.” He placed a tile onto the board before leaning their arm on the seat, turning their head to face the elf. “Who are we suppose to be guardin’ anyway?”

The elf gave a sign giving a long sigh, taking out another copy of the photo from their jacket’s pocket. Walking over towards the table, placing the photograph a bit too hard onto it. “This is Mr. Delensrik, he wants a tour around… This lovely ward.” He slid the photo over towards the kitsune, tapping it with his finger. “Show him around your territory, give him a small scare but don’t do any harm to him. Show him a good time, whatever that is here. Hopefully that will be enough to keep him out of this nonsense of slumming it with the poor.” The elven man spoke with a posh tone, with a particular accent that the kitsune couldn’t put a finger on.

The gangster picked up the photo, giving it a long look. “He looks rich.” He passed the photo to the other kemonomimi at the table. Then the kitsune looked back at the elf, tilting his head. “Shouldn’t be a problem in our parts, but we make the trip short for safety.” His eyes lowered towards the elf’s pockets. “So you got the Krone?”

“As we negotiated with your boss. The money will be paid out after the trip.” The elf sharply replied, stepping back away from the gangster. Keeping a firm grip on his wallet. His eyes were drawn towards the stairs as the short nekomimi walked down the stairs. “Report?”

“I’m sorry brewma-” The nekomimi cut themself off, shaking their head as they continued walking down the steps to the table. “Reports are for schooling, we ain’t in school.” They pulled out their chairs to sit down not completely sure why the elf was asking for a book report.

“No they ain’t asking about a book report, they askin’ about what goin’ on topside.” The kitsune shifted his gaze towards the nekomimi. Lifting up his lit cigarette, taking a drag from it.

“Fuck didn’t they just say that? It’s going right as the seas. Ain’t nothin’ but storms brewing outside but figur’ that rich boy wouldn’ mind bit of water.” At least the short nekomimi stopped chewing on whatever they were chewing on. “Four-eyes says ain’t nothin’ out of sight, Knifecrew is out of sight ‘cause ya know. The rain.”

Suppressing his sigh, the elven man gave an accepting nod. “I suppose he has his jacket on, water wouldn’t be too bad for him.” The elf still notices the kitsune casting a glance over towards him. Took out a few bills from his wallet, placing it on the table. “Call it a dangerous weather fee.”

The kitsune took the bills, spreading it out and then dividing it up in four ways before handing it out to the other two kemonomimi. Keeping one small pile for himself, and another pile going inside of an envelope for the boss to collect. “Thanks for your understandin” He then promptly slid his pile into the gambling pot. Playing another tile to the game they were playing.

The nekomimi took his cut, counting it before stuffing the bills in his pocket. “Ay’ boss you thinks we can make stop at the noodles stand on the trip? Got en’ here need to drop off sum stuff.” The neko played a tile for themself, waiting for the kemonomimi that hasn’t spoken yet to play their tile.

The elven man spoke up before the kitsune did. “Is it an actual noodle stand or is that some sort of term for drug den? There are clear instructions that Mr. Bergquist is not to be near any form of illegal substances on his slumming trip.” Gods know that little shite causes enough problems without getting drugs involved.

“Just noodles an’ beers, sometimes juice.” The kitsune replied playing his tile after the quiet kemonomimi pushed a tile in. “Eh spooks, you ain’t said nothin’ all day. What gives?”

The kemonomimi pulled their hood over them, keeping their ears hidden. Shockingly speaking in proper grammar. “Not a lot to say.”

The kitsune gave a hardy laugh. “Dats why they call ya’ spooks!” He took a sip from his cup, drinking it down before speaking again. Followed shortly by standing up, then promptly failing over flat. The fat nekomimi gave a laugh, standing up out of his seat after taking a drink.

“Can’t hold ya liquor boss?” The neko hovered over the kitsune before tipping over himself, collapsing on the kitsune. Leaving the ‘Spooks’ as the last one standing. Who got up out of his chair, taking the money from the table and shoving it into his pocket. Walking up the steps as quickly as physically possible. Leaving the elven man alone with two collapsed kemonomimi.

“Fucking kemonomimi.” The elven man sighed, walking over towards the collapsed pile of gangsters, giving a nudge with his foot to wake them up. “Come on get up, my employer is not paying for you to take a nap.” He lowered himself to push awake the nekomimi first, only to find him unresponsive. Giving further push to the gangster. “Get up.” His voice started to sound far more worried, they was his escort out of this mess of a floating city too. He took his hand to feel the pulse on the neko, thankfully they were still breathing and hopefully only drunk too much.

The elven man raised his head, looking over towards the stairs. Another blasted Kemonomimi, but his eyes widened seeing the dark black trench coat she wore. “They’re alive, didn’t need to accidentally start a gang war now. However, we need to talk knife-ear.” The agent’s tone was flat and monotone.

–

Kivard, Jarisven

A raven haired elven man dressed in an overly expensive black and white suit, a metal pin of a hammer on the collar of his dress jacket. Symbol of loyalty to the PGP. He looked out the window of his office towards factory workers leaving the building for today, being near closing time. All while the winter’s wind blew wildly against the window. He could see his breath against the surface of the window. He pulled up his whiskey glass towards his lips taking a small sip of it. The whiskey not being one his company produced, no, he had imported the better quality whiskey that was produced in Blåskog. His ears perked up as he heard his work phone ring from the desk. Walking over towards it he answered it, putting it on speaker.

“Teir Delensrik, CEO of Kirvard Liquor. How may I help you?” He spoke in a carefree tone. While his Secretary didn’t tell him about having a phone call this late, he suspected whoever this was must be important for them to get his actual number.

“Afternoon, I’m senior agent Ny’Kala, I’m calling about your son.” The agent’s flat monotone gave no sort of edge or information about the agent, not even the gender could be figured.

The elf stopped up for a moment, being almost about to take a sip from his glass. An agent? Going by the name… this could be no Bevekter. “What about my son?” He spoke in a careful tone, his eyebrow raised. His mind wondered if this was some Akuan prankster who just wanted to scare PGP officials. Though it didn’t explain how they got his number.

“Your child is currently in custody for drug possession, assault, containing illegal materials on his person and false transit reports.” The agent continued after a brief period of silence. “As such they have been charged, arrested and trialed by the Bureau. The Nystatinne Intelligence Bureau, my apologies about the confusion, I’m more used to dealing with Rikevaari.”

“…Fuck sake.” Teir muttered out as he shook his head in annoyance as he walked behind his desk, sitting down as he placed his whiskey glass down. “Of course that mistake got him into custody. I told him not to leave the Rikevaari side, damn it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m willing to pay for the trouble he created. Say the amount and I’ll pay up. I’ll discipline him, trust me on that.”

“Your in charge of a few things in Jarsiven do you not? Just noting a few things down for our records.” He heard sounds of a pen writing on paper over the phone. “Kivard Liquor? Is that it or anything else that requires noting.”

“Kivard Liquor and Jarisven Steelways.” Teir could at least also let out a sigh of relief that he could keep this hidden. “The wife is the Minister of Energy, so money won’t be the problem if that’s why you’re asking.”

“I’m assuming this is a secure line?” The agent gave a simple question, yet one that felt a heavy weight over the phone.

The elven oligarch raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from his glass, a big one. He certainly needed the alcohol now. “Yes, I don’t exactly let people call this number if not.”

“Good.” He heard more writing over the phone. “Money will not be necessary, our mutual benefactors have a list of future investments into your future we would like you to do. Your son will stay in our custody, depending on our negotiations.”

“What.” Teir put down his glass harshly at that. “Mutual benefactors? What are you getting at? What…” He fell quiet for a moment, a small grumble leaving him. “What do you want?”

“Yes mutual benefactor, they have several very simple yet important tasks only you and your wife can do. Relating to your party affiliations with the current regime. As long as you two finish these very easy tasks, then your boy will stay in good health.”

“…I’m assuming If we do not agree then we won’t ever see him again?”

“After we announce publicly his arrest and charges. You will see pieces of him in the mail.”

A low irritated growl left the elven oligarch at that threat. Having to breath in to calm himself before speaking up again. “Fine, you win. What are the tasks in question?”

“You will receive the tasks on a per need to know bias, our mutual benefactors will use this phone. However I do have your first task at hand, just to insure your acceptance of the deal. Our mutual benefactors require delivery of the Darzisa Memorial Hydroelectric Dam blueprints. The delivery location will be texted to you in one hour, and you have until this Friday to bring the blueprints. When you have the blueprints, text the number that sent you the address.”

Teir was quiet for a moment. It was treason, but well. His wife would kill him if he didn’t try to save their son. He is a dead man anyways. “Before I accept. I want confirmation about my boy’s condition. I want confirmation that he is in one piece.” He grumbled out in annoyance.

“He passed out drunk in his prison cot. I can send you a photo of him…” The agent paused for a moment, “We have his man-servant as well, if you would like to speak to him instead?”

“Just… send me a photo of him. As long as me and my wife get consistent confirmation about his condition, then we will do the tasks.” He looked down at his now empty glass, though his mind was considering pouring whiskey into it again. He decided against it.

“Understood, any further questions?”

“No further questions. But I do want to say one thing.” He gritted his teeth as he pushed away his glass to the side. “Fuck you.” He started to end the call, only to find the call ended right after he said he didn’t have any more questions. With a grumble he stood up from his chair as he walked towards the corner of his room grabbing his dark gray long coat from the coat hanger. “Bastards, every single one of them.” He muttered to himself. Not just speaking about his son, but also about every kemonomimi out there. No shock that his hedonistic son was fond of them.

Cowlass · November 20, 2024, 9:36pm

Rural Jarisven,
February 5th, 2023

The local farmers’ cooperative was a meeting place for those who tended to the land, the beating heart of any rural community. It was in these places where the ideology of Darzism and all of its hate drew its support, at least in the beginning when the popular belief was young. Nowadays, they are forgotten in exchange for those damnable urbanites and their own fanaticism. Giving up the sunlight and calm pastures in exchange for busy skylines and smog clouds. The main cooperative building itself was built in boring bland brutalism style, and itself was falling apart as the endless enemy of time waged its war on it. Weather and all of its elements sieged the gray brick of a building.

It was a so-called unified agriculture center, servicing multiple purposes but most importantly was the meeting hall, with a upside-down Jarisven flag on the far backside of the room where the speaking stage is located. The smell of cigarettes stained the air as the crowd gathered inside, both young and old taking their seats in front of the stage while a handful stood at the back walls leaning against it. Keeping guard over the doors and a close watch over the windows. The small grouping of Gothirs having their own reserved seating on the stage, while a young looking elven man with scarred hands stood in front of everyone on the platform. Holding onto the mic with one hand and a small booklet in the other raising it into the air.

He spoke with utter righteous anger at the crowd of farmers. “Brothers and Sisters! Are we not yet tired of the government? Are we not tired of the lies they feed us to feed some bullshit theoretical war?! The only casualties I see here are us! We who spend our lives working in the fields, working to put food on the table of the country and bleed for the soil.” The young elven man pumped his fist into the air again before letting it fall to his side. Granting a moment to give the crowd let out their cheers. “We don’t need bullets, we don’t need some rich bastard telling us that we can make do with scraps! We need real change! We need the government who listens to the people who built this country! People who fought their wars and bleed for their politics! Did Odin drive a fancy new hybrid? Did Thor buy a second mansion to keep their mistress in? What Gods wear designer clothes and have Witcain on their wrists?!”

The crowd cheered on, the Gothirs sitting behind the speaker nodding their head along as he spoke. “When we rose up in peaceful protest last year? What did the government do for us?! No solutions to worries! No they” He gave a dramatic point clenching his fist around the booklet. “They shot anyone who might be involved with the protests last year and stole their homes away from their loved ones! They killed our neighbors! Our brothers and sisters! Our community! They locked down the cities oh yes when they protest, but when it comes to the people who feed them? Only bullet for the poor will do! We all know someone who died or disappeared because the government is so strong they can’t handle even the slightest voices against them!”

Bringing his fist back towards his chest, giving a long look towards the crowd. Letting the dead speak for themselves before letting his hand fall to his side. “They demand higher and higher yields, ignoring our worries of the soil being exhausted. They can’t refuse to get us new tools to tend our fields, they are incapable of getting better seeds and it shows. Ymirland farmers are out growing us! Their fields grow strong while ours withers more and more per season. Our crops keep getting sick! What is the government’s solution? Just burn the field! They can’t afford to get medicine but they can buy more tank parts!” He raised his hand back into the air as the crowd let out an aggressive agreement, yelling out with their heart. “They want more while giving us less!”

“Oh but they tell us who the fuck to blame don’t they! They tell us to blame our neighbors! They tell us to blame the Akuanists and Duarists living in their own regions! Minding their own business! Let me tell you, I have been to those regions and you know what I see? I see hard working people like me and you! Working their hands to bone to feed their families! I have been to the capital and you know what I saw? Fat fucks sitting on their asses behind desks with soft hands doing fuck all! Then tell us that we need to just work harder! They are happy to break the law and smuggle in luxury shit for themselves! However when Oliver, Sverre or Julie say they need replacement parts for their tractors? They tell us it’s not possible while they watch videos on their damn Jotuns!” He finished off his latest barrage by pointing at the crowd.

“Let me tell you about someone who actually worked for a living. Aimée Pierlot, now she is unfortunately a Côtois but we’re going to let it slide this time.” He waited for the crowd to give a small chuckle before continuing on. “She was a farmer, like me and you. Let me tell you something, she was the real deal when it came down to it. She didn’t just tend the fields but she unlike those fat princes and princesses in the capital. She sought to improve the lives of people like us, people who work for a damn living! She called for fair wages for fair day work! To take back our land from the princes and princesses in the capital draining of our nation’s lifeblood! Reverse the drain of our sweat, our tears and our blood back from the oligarchs!”

The young elven man basked in the energy of the crowd, waiting for another moment. “I’m not some godless heathen, I’m a damn farmer who had enough! We all had enough! We need to get organized! We need to get armed! There can be no ballot when they only ever offered us a bullet! I call for a revolution, revolution led by, and for the farmers!” The speaker stomped his boot. “Revolution for the miners toiling in the dark! Revolution for all in the heartland! Revolution for the mountains! Revolution for all of us who spend our days putting food on the table and shelter over our families heads!” As he finished his speech, the crowd went ecstatic, screaming and cheering with hands raised high above their heads.

Taking a moment as the crowd’s energy was brought back down. “I encourage everyone here to grab one of the booklets, take time to read it but make sure to keep it hidden in your homes. Take more than one if you know someone else who will join us. I don’t need to tell any of you this needs to be kept quiet, but we have many friends and both of us. Gothirs standing behind us are an example of that, these holy men and women. Real Gothirs, not like the greedy bastards up in the capital. They’re with us, they’re helping us. Some of you might be asked to do something by them, but take their word as my own. Together we will take back our land for the people! For all People!”

–
Kyivster, Ymirland
Côtois Embassy

Sylvi Milinete was an elven woman in her early 60s, she was dressed in an black and white dress suit with a yellow tie. Her long blonde hair was tied into a ponytail. Though most noticeably was perhaps the wrinkle under her golden eyes. Most elves didn’t really begin to show age until much later but for Milinete? Well having spent two decades now in exile from her home and trying desperately to revitalize an almost dying exile movement had brought the years down on her faster. It has been exactly 20 years since the first ‘open’ election was done by that damnable High Minister Tarvan Jonis. 20 years since she helped organize the opposition. 20 years since she had to flee once the rigging was clear, and protests were crushed. 20 years ago since her husband was shot.

She couldn’t help but sigh as she thought back to those times. She was young back then, she had optimism back then. Now all that is gone. She is ‘officially’ recognised as the President of Jarisven by many countries sympathetic to her, with people recognising hers ‘Fifth Gothiric Republic’ but that doesn’t exactly matter as long the status quo is kept. She may shake hands with different Kings, Jarls, Presidents and Prime Ministers. But reality was that for her? She was never gonna return back home again. No matter what she pleads.

Even as she knocked on the door to the Côtois embassy, she tried to keep a small polite smile on her lips. Her mind was buried deep in pessimism and negativity. In many ways she could even joke that Ymirland’s own culture has affected her. But she felt like she could warrant herself the pessimism, her role was more like a tool to justify Jarisven’s isolation than much role to affect Jarisven itself. Any role she could do to try to gather connections within Jarisven itself was thoroughly dependent on the Côtois, which meant her personal beliefs had to put more aside.

She was let into the embassy, though one easily could confuse it to be a fortress from the old colonial days. Be escorted by the much shorter kemonomimi guards, into the main center of the concrete and steel building. The beating heart of Côtois influence in the region so to speak, she didn’t have time to read the nameplate on the door before she was ushered into the office.

The office itself is sparsely decorated aside from a few photos lining the walls and Côtois flag hanging in the back. No windows to the outside world, feeling of isolation creeping into the old president’s heart. Though when her head turned to the southernmost wall, to the left of the door she saw a wall of symbols and historical artifacts though she couldn’t quite name them all. The elven woman did recognize a few pieces of the first Jarisven republic being on display. However what was important was the old kemonomimi woman sitting behind the disk, the Vice Chair of the Federation a Mrs. Blanchet.

The old admiral spoke with a strong tone that hid her age well. “Take a seat Mrs. Milinete, I have some coffee brought in shortly.” The woman didn’t bother with giving a bow of respect or handshake, preferring going straight to business.

Milinete simply gave a nod at that as she stepped forwards and sat down on the seat prepared for her as she placed her hands on her lap. “Straight to business as usual.” She said in a half amused tone though it lacked warmth. “Has there been any changing developments or reports coming from my country?”

“Indeed it has.” Blanchet gave a sharp tone, taking out a few documents from her desk. “Apologies for the spare decor, they’re being transported back to my new office back in the homeland.” She placed a single document on the table, laying a photo on top of it. “It appears the farmers of Jarsiven have finally been pushed enough and of course, provide a… Perspective on how to view the High Minister’s government so to speak.” She tapped her finger on the photo of a young elven man speaking on a stage. “The man you suggested proved to be quite the little revolutionary and very good at getting our message across.”

“I just hope a Bevekter doesn’t get to him…” Milinete muttered to herself as she looked down at the picture, studying it for a moment. “I’m certain the Agrarian wing of us exiles will be ecstatic at least from this even if many of them are rather conservative. How about urban areas? Still filled with fanatics?” Part of her really hoped that they could rely on a broader political base.

The old kemonomimi thought for a moment before speaking. “They are apathetic or fanatic, but still smeltable if provided the right sort of heat and pressure. The autonomous regions, of course as expected, will be happy to see the fascists be removed.” She scratched her chin, “I have been assured by our person on the inside that our revolutionary will be most safe from any Bevekter. If that was a concern of yours.”

“It was perhaps a more mild concern from the grander scope we are talking about. Just, well. I have spoken with many of the Jarisveni diaspora populations both here and elsewhere. It is always heartbreaking to hear stories of mothers and fathers telling their children being arrested back home. Or worse.” The elf let out a sigh as she shook her head. “No matter, it is good to hear that there is a growing dissent at least, makes sense that it would be farmers who feel most betrayed by Jonis’s recent reforms. What is the next step from here? Merely observing how this dissent will grow?”

“If any of those heartbroken Jarisveni would be willing to fight, inform my secretary and they can take part in the next few stages.” Blanchet was utterly unphased by the elven woman’s feelings on the matter, her mind keenly focused on the objective at hand. “Threefold, our allies in the ALF are going to be assisting us in arming and training those who are willing to in Jarisven. We have secured a few quiet locations out of sight of their security apparatus thanks to our friend in the government. Second is to gather more of the… Let’s say ambitiously minded Gothirs to sign on. Gothirs in rural areas are of course siding more with us by the day, however we would like a face more-well known to the population altogether to take our side. We have a few identified that would take the necessary risk to take part in important elements of our operation. Third is… a bit more strange.” She leaned back in her chair, “Our friend requested a delivery of brand name golfing equipment and several bottles of fine wine. As well a.” The woman picked up a document, “Copy of that dress the Queen of Norgsveldet worn at her official portrait.” She lowered the piece of paper, looking up towards the elf completely unphased by the request. “I believe it’s for bribes, either for themself or for others.”

“The diaspora is filled with veterans, though I cannot promise you quality as they would not serve for over twenty years. I can offer you a few thousand personnel.” She gave a nod at the idea, it had been something discussed within her cabinet before. Though many of the exiles have been rather pacifistic during the early years, many of them have swung around for more drastic solutions. “Getting more Gothirs with us is going to be vital, it gives legitimacy to my government by gaining their support.” She took a moment to process the last parts that the aging kemonomimi said. “…Did they ever explain why?” She raised an eyebrow at the admiral. She has little knowledge about the supposed insider they say they have in Jarisven, and with every bit of information she gets from these meetings she can’t help but feel the insider must be… rather unprofessional.

“No, they haven’t but they have been the biggest asset we ever had in Jasriven and provided critical information. Information that has proven to be useful in securing important figures in the government.” Blanchet spoke with a stoic tone. “If they request it, then it will be fulfilled. As far as I am concerned, they can ask for a trip to space and I will personally arrange the rocket launch.”

“Understood.” Milinete said in a stoic tone in return, she was not going to argue about it. If they are a useful asset now then perhaps they can be a useful asset later in government. If they succeed that is. Though it did make her wonder for a moment. “I hope I may ask a question that might be a bit sudden.” After getting a nod to continue she took a moment to find the right words. “Is there any reason why the Federation doesn’t do the easier solution of invasion? I do not want to seem ungrateful but I have spent twenty years in exile and for the longest time I have begun to wonder if foreign invasion was the only way to topple the fascists in my home. I can’t help but wonder why you haven’t decided to do it? Knowing your history of such actions in the past.”

“Hearts and minds, no matter what you see in the media. Invasions are a great way to build public support around nearly any government and people have short sighted memories. The first Côtois boots on the ground and our revolution will turn against us or lose steam as people rally around the fascist flag.” The woman leaned forward. “It takes special cases to have any public to support foreign soldiers in their country, even more so when those boots attend to overthrow your government with plans on permanently disrupting your way of life that you become accustomed too. While we can overthrow the current government, the Federation has learned its lesson in regime changes past. Regime changes are best done when the citizens of the country think they’re the ones doing it. The Federation just provides the narrative for them to follow among other things with it.”

“Understood, and I am glad to have the Federation’s support in toppling fascists in my home. Asked mainly because it has been a question running around by some of my cabinet ministers having seen Federation’s past interventions.” The elven exile took a moment to grab the coffee cup that has now been given to her, taking a sip from it. “I guess it does build well to my second question, what is the time frame we look towards for the possibility of me and my government to return home?”

“I understand your restlessness. You have been waiting a long time, however you can’t rush a dance.” For the first time in this conversation the old woman gave some show of emotion as she gave a smirk. “It will be sooner rather than later; however, we have to be careful about these things. Revolution can’t spark if the fuse is not even placed in the gunpowder barrel yet.”

“Well, I am an elf. As long as the PGP is toppled before I turn a century years old I will be satisfied.” Milinete said with a quiet but surprisingly genuine chuckle.

“Oh I’m not waiting that long. Speaking of which, the Federation does have a few more small things to request of your government.” The old looking yet, still younger out of the two them women returned to her serious expression. Taking out another small folder of papers, “Few things, there is some extra paper in here. Don’t worry too much about the size.” She placed it on the desk, sliding it over. “We can go over it with our coffee.”

The exile president internally sighed at that, requests was rarely ever just requests. Still she gave a polite smile as she bowed her head to show respect. “Of course, and I thank you once more for your support.” The tone was calm and kind and fake. But she wasn’t as pessimistic anymore- She may actually return home.

Tretrid · December 13, 2024, 8:30am

Presidential Palace
Vesthavn, Hustreache
January 27, 2023

“Do you know why I have called you here?”

Felix Fredriksen looked at the four ministers in front of him. They were Prime Minister Lucas Nygård, Foreign Minister Leo Paulsen, Defense Minister Astrid Kristoffersen, and Interior Minister Markus Strand. The latter three were the three ministers whose portfolios were most related to national security and maintaining the continued existence of the Hustrian state, while Nygård was here as the head of government.

They nodded. They had all been briefed enough to know the proposal that had been sent to them.

“Yesterday, the Tretridian ambassador notified me that the Tretridian government would like to establish a Côtois interests section in its embassy, essentially establishing Côtois diplomatic representation to Hustreache,” Felix said. “I think we should decide on our response to this matter before we tackle the larger one at hand. I for one believe that this is a rather inoffensive proposal, since it will establish a line of communication to the Chantilly and help us better understand their designs for the region while not overtly signaling an overt change in attitudes. Does anyone have any objections to this?”

They all shook their heads.

“Alright. Now for the matter of the Côtois proposal. You were all sent a copy of it in advance of this meeting, so I trust that you have all studied it.” Everyone else nodded. “Mr. Paulsen, what do you make of it?”

“I’d advise caution, personally,” Paulsen said. “A possible rapprochement with Ymirland would be a diplomatic coup for us, considering all the bad blood from the past and the continued activities of the ALF and NUNA, but on the other hand is the Federation of the Southern Coast a country we can trust will treat fairly with us? Their modus operandi is to use salami slicer tactics to leverage their way into essentially having the final say in the affairs of a region. If we let them gain that sort of status in Northeast Novaris, what would that mean for the continued security of Hustreache? It doesn’t take an expert to know what the general opinion of us is in the Chantilly.”

“Do we not have the Morstayblishlians to back us up?” Kristoffersen said. “They have traditionally been the main guarantors of Hustrian security in the past.”

“The political turmoil in Great Morstayblishlia over the past few years, between the terrorism and the matter with Marsilia and the chaos of the Karmer ministry, ought to be a wake-up call to us. They make good allies, yes, but we cannot always depend on them. It may be worthwhile to contact them, but we cannot assume that they will always be able to back us up.”

“What about the UCCS? They’ve been fairly generous with their dealings with us so far as well, and partnering with them would not require any major shift in alignment.”

“That may prove fruitful, I think, though again we would have to be cautious. It may attract attention from Norgsveldet, given the current state of relations between them and the UCCS, and the less thoughts Osfjord spares towards us the better. Perhaps it may be prudent to wait and see if relations improve. We do not want to be another front of a new Concordian Cold War, if that ends up happening. Again, caution is the key word here.”

“I understand that Tretrid is also backing the Côtois proposal,” Nygård said. “Cynebury is arguably the most accommodating to us out of everyone in the Ulvrikian world. How does this affect the favorability of the proposal?”

“In the ideal case, Tretridian involvement will help keep the Côtois in check,” Paulsen said. “Cynebury no doubt wants to retain its influence over Northeast Novaris, and more likely than not it will do so through us. But on the other hand, if the Côtois has offered them a better piece of the action than we can, then they won’t hesitate to leave us out to dry. So they too cannot provide a certain way out.”

“Mr. Paulsen, considering these advantages and disadvantages, what would you advise the way forward should be?” Felix asked.

“I do think some at least cursory diplomatic engagement with Great Morstayblishlia and the UCCS may be in order in case engaging with the Côtois goes poorly with us. But nothing that would make headlines unless we become absolutely certain that this proposed organization would be a bad deal for us. Our first priority, however, ought to be to engage with the Côtois and determine if they are reaching out to us in good faith. If they are, we may see Northeast Novaris become more stable than it has in centuries.”

“Thank you, Mr. Paulsen.” Felix let out a sigh. He suspected he knew the answer to the next question he was going to ask, and he did not like it at all, but it still needed saying. “Mr. Nygård, do you have the base of political support needed to get Hustreache to make concrete commitments to either Tretrid or the Federation if it proves beneficial for national security?”

Nygård visibly deflated. “…no, we don’t. This was not a good time for us to have to deal with these things.”

The most recent Hustrian legislative elections had very nondecisive results. Nygård’s coalition was somewhat cobbled together and only just barely held a majority in the Folktinget. It had been the cause of many headaches in recent months.

Nygård himself was a reformist, and was largely representative of his party, the HRF (L). But to get into power, not only did he have to treat with parties to his left that were wary of the HRF’s history, but he had to do so with parties to his right as well. Parties that would certainly leave the coalition if the government began suddenly acting friendly with the Federation.

“What would be the best way to secure the base of support needed to allow the necessary actions to be taken?”

The Prime Minister seemed to take an interest in his glass of water. “I fear that the only thing that will be able to do so is elections.”

Silence.

“…so be it, then,” Felix said. There was a certain resignation in his voice. He wasn’t sure whether he knew this was going to happen or not. “We will be having elections fairly soon, then. I recognize that it’s a gamble, but if this is the only way we can get things done, we will have to do it.” He paused for a while, thinking. “We ought to do what we can in the meantime to ensure that these offers are still open to us by the time we are capable of accepting them. Mr. Nygård, do try what you can to keep the government together in the meantime.”

Nygård nodded.

“Mr. Paulsen, you may reach out to Great Morstayblishlia and the UCCS in a limited capacity as you advised. Ensure that this does not attract unwanted attention from Osfjord or the Chantilly. Express to the Tretridians and the Côtois our interest in the current proposition, but that it will take time for us to be able to properly respond to it.”

“I will have the necessary cables drafted and on your desk by Tuesday.”

“Mrs. Kristoffersen, review the readiness of our military. Our hard power is one bargaining chip out of many on the table, and it may prove useful. Do this in a way that does not signal aggression towards Ymirland or Kuovälsna.”

“It will be done.”

“And Mr. Strand? Do what it takes to keep the NUNA quiet. I’m aware the HRF (R) will not appreciate it, but the continued security of the Hustrian state must come first.”

Strand nodded.

“Alright, then. We all have things we must do, so I’m going to adjourn this meeting here,” Felix said. “I hope we may secure a place for Hustreache in a better future for East Novaris, but it will be hard work to get there. Good day, everyone.”

And with that everyone began to silently file out, the weight of the task ahead clearly weighing on them.

Cowlass · March 31, 2025, 8:45pm

Southern Jarsvien;
Fort Darzisa;
March 8th, 2023

The Jarisvi military base, bearing the name of the late theocratic fascist dictator, was a victim of last century logistics and bureaucratic mismanagement. It might have been built in the 1970s, but strategic planners were focusing on an event of a civil war like back in the 1850s. Viewing the river access it was close to those troubled ethnic regions that caused such a headache for the republic, despite the fact there are railways to them now making this base at least logistically speaking worthless. Being located in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sheep and the only reason why it keeps from being shut down is purely political in nature. It’s name, you can’t change the name or else the clergy will have a fit, you can’t shut it down or both the clergy and the low ranking officers in military there will throw a riot. Military being resistant to anything that might look like a budget cut, downsizing or in other words that might reduce their influence.

The fort was built in a classical sense, meaning that it has large stone walls around the base and instead of easily maintained wooden watchtowers. It held stone keeps, with dark red clay tiling with holes all over it, roughly patched with wooden planks or cloth rags. Main office itself was a cobblestone estate, more fitting some aristocratic estate rather than a military base built in the 70s. The motor pool was the only decently modern thing in the base, being built out of concrete but idiotically attached to the stone wall. The helicopter pad was outside of the fortress, adding more stupidity to the whole ordeal of the base. The wasteful and idiotic construction did have one use of course, it was the perfect place to send politically inconvenient soldiers to. Out-of-Wedlock children, homosexuals, and anything else that might fall into that category. Rather ironic then the clergy fight so hard to keep it when it is full of people they believe should be killed.

All in all, it was a fantastic place to be if one was plotting against the government.

–

The Jarisvi patrol convoy, composed of a ‘military’ truck that was most certainly not an imported Gyllir-Comstar that was somehow smuggled into the country in the 90s and two horses. Given the other vehicles supposedly stationed at the base, being in need of replacement parts, the requisition order was filled out back in the early 2000s. The convoy pulled through the southern and only gate, with the horses being led to the makeshift hitching post made by the most northern wall. Horses themselves are valued far higher than the vehicles. At least they could get new horses when they died from the ranch nearby, in exchange for the odd rifle or overlooking something illegal being done. The truck pulled aside to the ‘estate’ with a handful of elven men and women got out of the back of the bed. Including one out of military uniform, a young handsome elven man wearing a simple pair of jeans, steel toe boots with a brown wool button up jacket. His undershirt was a dark green matching his eyes and clashing against his black hair.

He looked unassuming, despite his outfit making him look like a farmhand. He was the most wanted man in all of Jarsvien, his firebrand speeches at farmers’ cooperative and temples was making waves in ways those in power are rather frightened by. Branding him as a heretic, a traitor, Norgsveltian-Côtois agent, and transman crypto-Akuanist. He was only one of those things of course, well half of one at least and it wasn’t a damn Akuanist. While he might push back on being called a Côtois agent, he would prefer being called an agent of the true government of Jarsvien. One could even see that the Côtois was cooperating with the government in exile, they would technically be right of course. Which has been commonly agreed is the best form of being correct. Just have to ignore the whole aspect that the Côtois have virtually taken over the government and given it new life.

The ruralist-agriculturalist-theodemocist-socialist and a whole host of other -ists or -isms stepped into this run-down relic of a base. Soldiers in uniform to his left, and cover operatives to his right. Walking into the building as if he owned the damn place and had the swagger to match. He walked straight into the colonel’s office, it was obvious which room it was. The office had the only door that didn’t look like it was replaced with something looted. It even had the decency matched the rest of the door frame. He opened it and stepped forth, to a surprised colonel not expecting such an introduction.

“Colonel Granbogerson, I presume?” The revolutionary spoke with fever, manifesto in one hand and the Sagas in the other. He stepped forward despite the surprise of the soldiers and the colonel at his boldness. Looking down at the colonel with that look is selling so well to the rural people of the country.

“Fuck sake, I thought I was about to get shot by the secret police ya asshole.” The colonel clutched his heart, being out of uniform. Wearing a decent polo shirt with his rank pinned to his collar. As he stood up to offer a handshake to the young elf. His light brown cargo shorts were on display and one could just barely make it out that he was wearing house slippers. “Mr. Laugostla, you got some serious guts or actually batshit to come onto a military base.”

Laugostla put down both his books, reaching out to shake the colonel’s hand. Giving a strong grip with his shake. “Real change needs serious guts, and that should be something you’re more than just aware of now isn’t it.” He let go of the officer’s hand as he took his seat in front of the desk. Keeping his hands on his lap, and his green eyes directly into his blue ones.

“If you’re talking about bring in a heretical terrorist onto my base. I like to say it is less about having guts, and more just taking a leap out of my own senses.” Granbogerson gave a small chuckle, sitting down in his comfortable looking chair.

“Colonel Granbogerson, is it not written in the Sagas to be honest with one another? We’re not Hjørdists now, neither one of us is a heretic so in either case it is not applicable. You didn’t take a leave of your senses. You agree with me and my manifesto.” Laugostla spoke with fever and strength, no doubts in his mind or voice.

“Good Gods brother, you could sell a dragon as a wife to Thor.” The colonel gave a laugh, pulled out a bottle of Ymir-branded vodka from his desk as well as two drinking glasses. Pouring into the glasses before he spoke up. “I might believe in a few things here and there on your paper of yours, not all of it now. Lot of that stuff is some dribbling bullshit.” Granbogerson pushed forward a vodka glass to Laugostla.

“Oh you agree to some of these things. Which is it? Wealth and land distribution? Economic change? Temple reform? Or is it legalizing gay marriage and equality?” The revolutionary gave a small smirk, taking a sip from his glass after bowing his head in thanks.

Granbogerson initially was lackadaisical as he listed out various reforms. However gay marriage, or more important to some of his troops at least equality. Nearly spitting out his drink as the topic was brought up. “I don’t know what slander my rivals are saying bu-” He stopped his defense, as the revolutionary raised his hand.

“Honesty my brother, remember the Sagas true teachings now.” Laugostla gave a playful smile. Lowering his hand back down to his lap. “You don’t need to lie, Nori only ever said two adults should marry for love. How is your husband?” He took a sip from his glass, leaning back in the chair.

The colonel gave a sigh. “You’re probably wondering why I’m out of my uniform. I was just having lunch on the hill with him before my second informed me you were coming.” Granbogerson shook his head, his heart beat racing.

“Your second is the kelf right?” The revolutionary changed his tone again, speaking with a softer and far more kind voice. “I know what it looks like, the ‘kemonomimi removal’ sort of so-called surgeries. It’s butchery, one I fully intend to fix.”

“I don’t know if you’re actually an operative for the Côtois and Norgsveltians or just that perceptive.” Granbogerson took a sip from his drink, softly actually considering if he was speaking to a traitor or not. “But you are correct, he’s a kelf. He is a good man, with a terrible sense of balance and hearing though.”

“I spent time in the autonomous regions, among the Nykuzn and the Egsto. That sort of barbarism is awfully common, your friend looks like he had a doctor perform it at least. I have seen too many find themselves with nothing but a pair of scissors and a disgruntled father.” He leaned over, onto the desk as he looked eye-to-eye with the colonel. “Most don’t make it to adulthood infection, blood loss, or worse…” He leaned back in his low, yet sympathetic tone.

The colonel stared blankly into his vodka glass, stirring it for a moment. He wasn’t alone in his thoughts for long as Laugostla pressed his advantage. “They are willing to spill the blood of children for nothing less than looking different from them. They sent you to a place to be forgotten because you love someone they don’t want you too. This so-called government does atrocity after atrocity so often they don’t care to hide it anymore. They don’t need to lie to the people, they just need them to be scared. I’m telling you now, we don’t need to be scared anymore. They are weak, and they’re terrified of anyone knowing that.”

“Gods help me.” Granbogerson spoke softly before lifting his head up to look back at the revolutionary. Drinking his glass until it was dry again and placed back on the table. “Fuck it, at least we have you to give a decent final words for all of us when we hang together.”

Laugostla gave a laugh, taking it in good stride as he chugged his own glass. “We won’t hang if we all work together. Will your soldiers stand with your orders?”

“They will, if I speak with them but as long as we’re not alone in this. They support you. We are not alone in this right? I’m not talking about having a rally now but we need more soldiers, equipment and all the things you need to overthrow a government.” The colonel poured another round for both of them.

“I have the manpower, not just in the autonomous regions but in our breadbasket lands and elsewhere the places the government neglects. What I need is the ability to move in equipment from the border with Kuovälsna, and a distribution hub. Which this fine river we are by will be rather helpful in that endeavor for smuggling.” Revolutionary spoke with his usual fiery tone again.

“Farmers and minorities with small arms is a nice start but how about actual soldiers? Outside of my base of course.” The colonel thought for a moment, taking a look at the manifesto laying on the desk. “I can give you a few sympathizers, they’re mainly around here in the south. Government hopes the ALF will deal with them instead. They are not going to be big on socialist nonsense you spew but they’re how the Norgsveltians say, Friends of Bjørn.”

“I have support of veterans within and without Jarsiven.” Best leave out the ALF alliance he has. “What do you say about getting us a route from the border? Do you know anyone there?”

“You’re asking for the impossible there, the border is locked up tight. Only the suicidal, fanatics and most loyal people guard the borders. Same with Ymirland if that is your next suggestion.” The colonel looked over toward the map on his wall. Standing up with his glass in hand. “If you want to smuggle in something, you have to do it by sea. Anything else is just not going to be feasible.”

“Bring stuff down from the north down to the south has more checkpoints than I would like to have.” He stood up after the colonel looking at the map. “What about here, there are no bases around this area along the border.”

“With good reason, it’s a massive minefield and no one has the maps to where those mines are planted anymore.” The colonel gestured towards the spot, tapping it with his finger. “It’s densely packed for certain as well, but there aren’t patrols often in the area. Sometimes air patrols but that once a month if at all. Ground patrols don’t bother unless they get directly ordered too by the capital and even then, they just are not going to follow it. No one is certain how big the actual minefield is.”

“Could a pathway, just large enough for trucks to go through. It takes time but if there are no patrols that often.” While the young firebrand might not be the best in terms of military mind but damn if he didn’t sound confident in his arrogance.

“I like where your mind is heading but all it would take is maybe just one explosion to send the military come running to check it out. Bringing in supplies from the coast and convincing others in the military to join us is our best bet.” The colonel looked over to one of the bases along the border with their troublesome southern neighbors. “Whenever the bullet is fired, we can seize the bases. While most are going to be too fanatic to surrender. There will be a few who see the writing on the wall and join us, provided we have the numbers for it.”

“What if we replace one of the base commanders on the border with our own loyalist?” Laugostla raised an eyebrow.

“Still their soldiers, they’re all from the north and all from the cities. Bunch of overly zealous kids with guns would be happy to off their commander if they weren’t with the program.” The colonel shook their head as they tapped on one of the bases. “No way to quietly smuggle in from the south, coasts is still our best bet.”

“Our cause isn’t strong in the north, but if there is no way to get our supplies from the south.” The revolutionary stopped speaking for a moment, then gave a small smile. Pointing at the minefield area again. “Actually, I have an idea to clear that minefield while having it look like it’s natural. What are the chances they would actually replace the minefield?”

“Not likely, probably will set up a small outpost there until money can get gathered up for a proper base. Which is not going to be likely for a while. However they would be able to tell if it was messed with.” The colonel gave a side-eye to the rurally dressed man.

“What if we had a herd of animals, heavy ones like cattle or some such thing stampede across it. There would be quite a bit of chaos and certainly would end up clearing the field all at once in the confusion.” Laugostla smirk turned into a proper smile. “I can talk the ranchers into it, some from here, some from there but we would be able to have enough to run through the field and clear a way to bring support in without risking traitors in the north.”

“That sounds incredib-” Granbogerson stopped himself before insulting the plan, turning to look at the map. “Well it could work I suppose, they’re having enough but I mean, it’s cattle. This would be rather strange to say the least you know.” He looks over towards the young revolutionary. “It can be worked on at least, while I talk with some of my friends. Let me see if I can shake any trees up north, perhaps I can make sure we can get a secure line for our supplies from… You didn’t say where they’re coming from.”

“No I didn’t.” Laugostla gave a pat on the back to Granbogerson. “We have friends everyone, not just with the true government of Jarisven now. Turns out everyone wants Tarvan Jonis’ head. He made a whole lot of enemies and not enough friends. Particularly with Ymirland.” The socialist turned to look towards the doorway, taking something out of his pocket. “This is a phone, a special one that can’t be listened to or recorded on cell towers. It has my number on it by default, I can have some friends bring more like it when you bring in more allies.”

The colonel picked up the phone, looking at it for a moment before breaking out into laughter to the surprise of Laugostla. “Fucking Hel, this is really happening.” He gave a nod, patting the revolutionary on the back. “I call you when I make connections with my folks.”

Cowlass · April 4, 2025, 7:02pm

Jarsvien; Ovijrin
March 12th, 2023

The capital of Jarsvien, Ovijrin, was burned down almost as many times as Atatlandian’s capital has been. Though with nowhere as much joyful memory in the cultural zeitgeist in the Côtois customs. Atatlandians for Côtois, was a historic rival and worthy opponent. Jarisven was more of a simplistic job, a duty to be burned down every now and then to secure borders for the glory of the Norgsveltian-Lapérousian empire. In modern terms, Côtois students spent less than a paragraph on the Lapérousian colonial adventures in Novaris and burning of Jarsvien was only a footnote or a sentence. For the Jarisvi, it was a national embarrassment to bring up in history class how many times they were beaten, bombed, burnt and pushed around by the perpetual angry kems from across the ocean with their stoic Norgsveltien allies.

City itself reflected the violent history in some quiet ways, with buildings newer than what they should have been for their old country and in louder ways as daily prayers for the martyred dead. Paranoia is seeping into every aspect of the urbanized life here and it wasn’t just the prayer parades as informants watch from the windows. Militarized police, armed political youth wings, frighten elders hiding curtains and traitors behind every corner. Everyone is a potential spy, everyone could be a heretic and no one should be trusted. Not your parents, not your children and most certainly not your neighbors are above suspicion. Every person could turn you in for a potential crime or treasonous line of thinking.

Between the prayer parades and ration queues, there has been improvement in life since the older generations. No more black outs, and the government accurately changes the schedules to have the trains run on time. Tarvan Jonis gave political reform but in due honesty, the youth turned into his fans when he expanded public transport and healthcare. While the military would have preferred if he showed off the latest barely working garbage rolling off the tracks from military factories. Him announcing that he was lowering the monthly ticket price and showing off a new fleet of barely working buses received a far larger cry of support. When Jonis’ closest ally Moringson somehow managed to smuggle in a fleet of old Gyllir buses, well it certainly helped the young general’s standing with the high minister. Perhaps the Côtois was onto something when it came to public transport.

The chief of the army’s home away from home in the city was a tall and wide complex tower, with a red brick wall. Though the brick was just to hide the gray concrete behind it and blast resistant formulas. It had around the clock armed guards, hand picked by Moringson and that’s not to mention being paid by him. There was a nice roof greenhouse-garden that he had his staff manage for him, given he couldn’t possibly get out of bed early enough in the morning to take care of it himself while also doing military politicking. Yet it was his second favorite, no third favorite room in his home. His second favorite room was his office, he finally got the decoration to where he likes it. His favorite room was no surprise to anyone aware of his promiscuous reputation.

The young elven man sat in his lounge chair, cigar in one hand and the other resting on his thigh. He wore a pair of black shorts from yesterday, and shirtless of course after this morning pleasantries. Though a small ring from his phone, a text message rather than a phone call on his table next to his lounge chair. Lazily he reached over to inspect the message, taking a drag from his cigar as his servant brought over his morning coffee and papers. His eyes didn’t widen, but the message raised his eyebrow. Placing his phone back down on the table as he took a sip from his coffee. Sitting up, as his heart began to beat faster. “Prepare my uniform and get the car ready.” He spoke in a stern tone to his servant. He was still going to finish his coffee and his reports, no sense in rushing into something.

His car pulled into his personal parking space at the social club with no name, none to be spoken out loud. It is supposed to be a secret sort of society founded decades ago, only for the elite of the elite of Jarsiven society. However it just became a poker chip, a token to exchange, barter or offer in exchange in closed door negotiations. Membership levels become status symbols, parking spots closer to the door being worth more and all the other minor things to be exchanged. This social club with no name, being an obsessive goal of the Jarsiven elitists. Climbing the ladder of the ranks of membership becomes a form of hierarchy of worth in the club.

Not that Moringson cared for any of that, but yet he was part of the game and to win at it, one needs to play at the table with everyone else. He wore a different sort of uniform, still military one in nature but this one was purely for show but not ceremonial. Dark green suit, white undershirt with the more important medals on his jacket. It was regs, but he is the chief and what good is being in charge of the army if you can’t bend the rules for a little bit. Oh and if anyone cared or was watching, he was parked closest to the door instead of letting the staff take his car to the society’s parking lot.

Social club once looked like any other building, hidden in plain sight but nowadays. It was a massive complex that took up the whole of the city block with various forms of entertainment. Entertainment was for everyone, membership levels meant literally nothing. All services and assorted things are free. Yet everyone holds value to their status in the club for whatever reason, even the late dictator in all his popularity played the game with having a whole new class of membership just for him and his most hardened loyalists.

The young general gave a respectful nod to the doorman, before walking inside. He didn’t even take the time to speak with the receptionist, which normally always did even in a rush. Always being a good idea on knowing the help when spying on their bosses. Though technically speaking no one is supposed to be spying on each other here despite everyone doing it regardless. He has to send her a nice new set of earrings to make up for his rudeness, turning to walk straight into the elevator. Much to her small surprise in the matter. Heading straight to the top floor, where he then has to take the stairs to the floor below where the not so secret meetings happen.

“Custom handles or off the rack?” He spoke up as he entered the room, a elderly elven man relaxing in a solid oak chair casting a glance towards him then back at the TV above the mantle place.

“Custom, handcrafted job and imported straight from Vakrestender. No brand name on it either other than their own. It wasn’t a rush job either, not with those parts.” The old man spoke with a groggy tone. “Three sets too, all of them arrived without even noticing my boys at the yards. In a plane as well, whoever ordered the gifts must have gone through a whole lot of trouble to get them here. Not one kickback or fee to me either.” He shook his head. “Kids these days have no respect for the proper chain of command or their elders.”

Moringson sat down next to him, pouring himself a cup of coffee on the table. “Three sets, custom made and you said they went to the base commanders? Which ones?”

“I didn’t say base commanders, they went further than that. They went to all the people who have a personal vendetta against you.” The elderly man sipped his coffee before placing it on the table between them. Looking the young general in the eye as he leaned over. “The three who could actually do something about it.”

“Great, fantastic even.” Moringson gave an annoyed tone. Not annoyed at the old crime boss but rather this would be greatly inconvenient for him that the three idiots might be forming a alliance to fuck him specifically over. “Any idea who bought their golf clubs? Any clues?”

“No, but general Grådston did receive something special. A dress for his wife, and I don’t know if the others received anything like this but. He got an additional briefcase full of United Krone bills, don’t know how much but it is quite a large suitcase.” The old man gave a small sigh, leaning back into his chair. “Maybe I’m slipping, the old me would have proper answers to your questions.”

“Former general and you’re not slipping, but whoever is backing them right now or forming whatever scheme is certainly crafty.” Moringson held his chin, thinking for a moment before turning his head towards the old man. “If you ever do want to retire, I can arrange for you to be at one of those retirement villages in the Federation. Quick forging of passports and your a Norgsveltian logistics engineer moving your pension to Côtois one.”

“Ha.” He gave a laugh before shaking his head. “Well I keep that in mind. Beats anything we got in Jarisven. Though I’m surprised you are not the one seeing this coming. You always have been quick to see if you’re about to get attacked after all. You didn’t think those three might team up to push you out? Perhaps you’re slipping as well.” The elderly man scratched his chin before coughing.

“No, I figured they might be making moves at some point but never all three. Maybe two of them working together at some point but all three have a whole lot of ego to be in the same room. They could still be in the courting stages, with whoever is trying to win them over.” He stopped to think for a moment. “It would have to be someone in government in order to bypass both you and any government restrictions. Not to mention being flown in directly from Vakrestender. The Valkyr companies love money but I think they wouldn’t even risk upsetting Norgsveltian politicians enough to do this. So maybe Norgsveldet is in on this too.”

“You’re overreaching based on very little information. It could just be they had a plane and a pilot willing to turn off their tracking software. It’s not uncommon in my line of work, you know.” The old man raised an eyebrow. “Though you are probably right they’re still being courted by whoever brought them their new toys. As much as it pains me to say, it could be one of my own rivals contracted to bring this stuff over under my nose.”

“So you think it could be another smuggler maybe then? Giving gifts to let them keep operating and not sell them out?” Moringson pondered for a moment. “No can’t be, it is targeted against me specifically. Why would a smuggler want to target me? That’s just bad business making a new enemy.”

“No idea, but you got the High Minister’s ear. Just go have them arrested and shot.” The old man gave a shrug.

“I have to make it look like he is being targeted as well… Which I don’t know if he is or isn’t being targeted now.” Moringson gave a smirk, straightening his jacket out as he stood up. “Well if nothing else, I’m going to keep an eye on them.”