### Four weeks ago - Colongo riots Gerald Veron smiled as he watched how the workers gathered for the major protest march against Ereatian oppression. Through word of mouth and the Usonian Communist Front newspaper the UCF had rallied its supporters to march for equal rights and more political influence in the colony. The UCF believes that it is just a matter of time before the era of colonization comes to an end. Decolonization should be strived for through protests and strikes and not violent revolution like the Usonian Liberation Front predicts. As long as the oppressors don't commit gruesome atrocities, peaceful protesting is preferred. It is better for the future to part ways in peace then in bloodshed. As long as the protestors remained peacefull, the Ereatians would let them march. The number of protestors seemed unusual high this day. Normally around 10.000 workers would show up but now the crowd has already risen beyond 25.000 in the capital. For a moment Gerald wordered why but then he noticed Johnny DeWane approaching. DeWane was just like Gerald a native Usonian. The Usonians are the original inhabbitants of the colony and currently are second class citizens with limited rights under Ereatian rule. DeWane is the leader of the Usonian Liberation Front. A militant guerrillia faction that uses car bombs and violent attacks agains the Ereatians as their means to fight the oppression. Both Johnny DeWane and Gerald Veron shared a similar goal but their ways of achieving it are different. As DeWane approached Gerald Veron he began to speak. "I heard that you guys would be marching today. I rallied my supporters to participate in the march. If we march together, we stand much stronger" said Johnny DeWane with a smile. Gerald Veron shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this. With the militant ULF members in the march there was a chance the march would turn into a violent riot. But regardless of Gerald's concerns, it was too late to stop the march. That day 30.000 Usonians marched for their political freedom. The march started in the industrial area of Colongo City and would lead to town square where the colony's administration building was located. They would take the usual route and would be closely monitored by Ereatian police and military units along the way. Usually in front of the administration building there would be a couple of hundred soldiers in Riot Control Gear and some hundreds more would be in backup at strategic locations. Charles Rogers, commanding officer of the 32nd Marine battalion watched how the first protestors would come around the corner. He could hear their scanting from miles away but this seasoned veteran was used to it. He and his 400 subordinates had been stationed in Colongo for the past 5 months and had seen their fair share of protests and riots. With some quick shouts he ordered his forces to form a solid line and watched how the protestors approached. Looking into the crowd Charles Rogers could see the communist hardliners and even the militant ULF members make up the front row. Judging from that it would be a day of beating commies and other Usonians into submission. As the first bricks and bottles flew, the loud bang of a firearm filled the air. A stream of warm red blood came from underneath the helmet of commander Charles Rogers as he fel to the ground. One gunshot erupted an orgy of violence the colony had not seen since the Ereatian invasion 15 years ago. Soldier emptied their firearms into the crowd in panic as they did not know where the shots came from. What should have been a peaceful march for more freedom turned into a massive 5 day riot and bitter street fighting between fully armed soldiers and militant Usonians. As the blood flowed in the streets of Colongo, militant Usonians dragged Ereatian civilians out of their homes, beat them to death in the street and burn their shops. In return, Ereatian soldiers shot any Usonian who disobeyed their orders on sight. It took he Ereatian security forces 5 days to restore the order but it came at a high price. At the end of the riots, more than 5.000 people died in the violence including 103 Ereatian soldiers, 143 Ereatian civilians and thousands of Usonian protestors. ### Present day, Ereatian security Cabinet meeting General Roger McRagear, minister of the army took the word as he watched the note in his hand. "Gentlemen, according to governor Maenor, the situation in Colongo is tense but under control. Strick curfews have been put in place and are stricktly monitored by our security forces. Also many members of both the UCF and ULF have been arrested over the past weeks. However both Gerald Veron and Johnny DeWane have not been found yet. We've interrogated many of their closest followers but their stories seem to be inconsistent. Some say both men have died during the riots while others claim they are in hiding. Our intelligence service believes both men have fled the country and are most likely residing in Alleghany at the moment." The general paused a bit to give the others a chance to speak. Prime minister Steven Wilde stood up and looked concerned. "This outburst of violence will negatively influence our already fragile relations with Alleghany. When they learn that our soldiers used deadly violence against their kin the Alleghany government won't be pleased. Their public opinion might move in favor of any form of intervention. We will need to assure that Alleghany will stay out of our internal affairs" . "I agree" Answered Admiral Walter Seaventon. "If Johnny DeWane has fled to Alleghany then he will most likely try to gather support for his cause. He will tell the Alleghany government how our soldiers shot peaceful protestors in the street without mercy. He will tell such stories to whomever he has the opportunity to." Walter Seaventon paused and thought about what that other man might do. The communists of Gerald Veron had been mostly peaceful so far but after this violent outbreak it will be increasingly hard to get serious support for non-violent protests. "There is one more thing. We will have to consider the option that Gerald Veron will travel to Revolutionary Syndicalist International and try to gain support there. If the RSI gets involved things might get messy at home. It will strengthen the position of the left-winged opposition in the house of commons. We will have to act fast and strengthen our relations with the other major powers of the world." Emperor Henry Theodore Constantine had been silent throughout the discussion. He realized that the current political situation could deteriorate quickly. The violence in Colongo would turn into an international scandal without doubt. No country would sit and ignore how soldiers shot thousands of civilians during a civil uprising. The situation would become more difficult if men like Johnny DeWane and Gerald Veron could gather international support for the freedom of Colongo. Considering the economic significance of the colony, losing control was not an option. "Hmm. We better notify all our ambassadors across the world that they might be called to explain the situation. It will also be wise to Strengthen our bonds with our allies, The Malassakian Republic. If foreign powers try to influence the situation, a combined show of strength might put them on different thoughts." The ministers in the cabinet all bowed to the emperor and nodded. " We'll handle the situation with the utmost care my emperor" ### Present day, Alleghany Capital Johnny DeWane had spend the last few weeks in a shady hotel room of a cheap hotel on the outskirts of the city. For some time now he had tried to arrange a meeting with Alleghany government officials in order to discuss what happened in Colongo. Up until now, he has not yet been taken seriously. The Ereatian government did a good job on covering up the massacre. But Johnny knew that the Alleghany government could not remain silent for long. Some of his fellow ULF members had brought him picture's and a video reel of the riots and shootings on the other side of the border. Tomorrow it would be all over the Alleghany news papers that their colonizing neighbor had used its military forces against unarmed civilians. Johnny smiled as he looked at the telephone in the room. It would only be a matter of time before an Alleghany official would call. ### Present day, Revolutionary Syndicalist International capital When the violence erupted Gerald had tried to bring as much of the people into safety but it was already too late. The powder keg had exploded and no one could stop the rage of the oppressed Usonians for some time. He could only watch in horror how his kin fought in the streets with molotov cocktails and bricks while the Ereatians shot them with rifles, machineguns and grenades. On the second day of the rioting Ereatian tanks would roll into the city and guard the important roads and buildings. What government would use tanks against his own people. Gerald could only think about how foolish he was that he believed that he could fight for the Usonian freedom in a non-violent way. As he stood in front of the RSI's main office Gerald could only hope that RSI spoke's Jeanette Jaures would have time for him.

-accidentally deleted post instead of posting...-

### **Three Weeks Ago - Colongo Capital** “Okay, let's assess the situation.” The large woman speaking and three other people, all in grey trench coats, sat around a table in a blown-out bar. Two days earlier, an Usonian suicide bomber had set off his load inside the building at peak hour, ravaging the mostly Ereatian clientele. It had been considered “safe” by the foolish colonizers because of its distance from the working class neighborhoods: They hadn't suspected that a “good Usonian,” the kind who wore “proper” clothes and worked as a clerk for a kindly Ereatian journalist, could be an enemy in their midst. “The rest of the cell was caught in the last roundup,” replied a burly but elderly man holding a revolver close to his chest. “Police took our radio, our telegraph, and our truck. No way to get the message out unless we can hitch a ride or walk our way out. To be honest, we were surprised to find you still alive and well.” The two figures next to the old man nodded, two skinny twin teens who presented as men but, like many younger syndicalist revolutionaries (and some older as well), had a more complicated vision of their own gender. Everyone at the table was native Usonian by birth, but they spoke with a deliberate mish-mash of Usonian, Ereatian, and Flamard. “Do the police know who we are?” “I doubt it. You're our liason, the only one with a card. The rest of us are UCF as far as anyone knows.” “Weapons?” “Hunting rifle with eight rounds. Two grenades. My revolver with twenty-four rounds -six in the chamber-. One flare gun we stole from a dead pig, with five rounds. Knives all around. You?” “Type 12 SMG, two 48-round drums. That and my knife. Anything intact here we could use to make some cocktails?” The old man's expression grew puzzled. “So we're planning on using the weapons? The fighting's over and there's only four of us left. We -” “Forgive me if I disagree, comrade.” She gave a slight, wry smile, though her eyes remained stoic. “The fighting isn't over until we're dead or we've won.” “You can't be serious,” remarked one of the twins. The other nodded in agreement. “Do I look like I'm joking? Can't you see what's happening? The match was lit and the bomb went off. Here we are sitting on the proof. Just when the colonizer bastards think they've got things back under control, we can relight it. And we can keep doing that as many times as it takes.” “As it takes for what?” the old man asked skeptically. “For conditions to get intolerable. For general revolt. For this place to become so hellish for the colonizers and the bosses that they leave once and for all. That's the option we have: No way we're making it to liberated territory through the checkpoints, no way to contact the International, and no serious branch here we can depend on to keep us safe. We fight, we inspire others to fight, we join those who are already fighting. ULF, UCF, whoever. And when they won't fight, we make them by forcing them to make the same decision we have to: Total victory or total defeat.” There was a long silence, filled with uncomfortable gazes shooting every which way. Finally, the old man took a deep breath and spoke. “Well, I've lived a good long life. I'm with you. But what about the twins?” “We can fight,” one interjected. The statement wasn't proud or eager, but fatalistic. “Not much else to do. Victory or death...I suppose.” The rest of the day was long and painful. The four new guerillas burned the few shreds of evidence that they belonged to the RSI, checked and cleaned their weapons, and used a few intact bottles of liquor to prepare firebombs. Then they separated: The liason in one direction, the elder in another, and the twins together in yet another. Their targets would be anyone of the oppressor class: Soldiers and police on or off duty, bureaucratic offices, high-status establishments, suspected collaborators. Anything to show that the fight hadn't ended. Hopefully, that fact would strike fear into the colonizers and hope into whatever remained of the resistance. ### **Two Weeks Ago - International Radio Broadcast** *This is a broadcast from the Liberated Territories of the Revolutionary Syndicalist International. News of the workers and peasants of the world, which you will not hear from the bourgeois press or the state-tyrants' censors. Today we pass on a special announcement by RWC Chair Emma Goossens, speaking of a new directive by the Revolutionary Workers' Congress.* -A light crackle of static hums in the background- *“Fellow self-organized working folks of the International. Your representatives just made a historic commitment that deserves an announcement. Some of you, particularly my friends in the Anarcho-Syndicalist Front, have been waiting for this moment for years. We've come far in the last few decades, and our biggest danger now is sitting on our asses, falling into complacency. But I'm proud to say that my fellow congresspeople are still standing strong.* *“Henceforth, it will be the policy of the Revolutionary Syndicalist International that all member-unions set as a concrete objective the self-management of their every workplace. Workers councils are not a privilege reserved for liberated territory: They are the birthright of every worker, and now is the time to claim it! For every union that has an equilibrium with the owners and management, it is time to shatter it! You may have a good contract now, but there's no telling when you'll lose it. You may have good managers now, but there's no telling when they'll get replaced by thugs. As long as the bosses have power, you can never know when they'll stop playing nice and throw a punch that'll knock the wind out of you and your union.* *“Some of you already know this, because you have to fight management tooth and nail for every little concession. A whole lot of you have been fighting for self-management anyways, and I tip my hat to you and your courageous struggle. But for the others, like my craft unionist friends in Alleghany: Don't be fooled. Until you win the right to run the workplace democratically, until you kick the bosses out and pull the managers off their horses, until every one of your workshops and factories and farms is a self-managing worker-owned cooperative...there can be no lasting peace and no lasting justice.* *“We all know that different places will need different approaches to this goal. It's not Congress' job, thank goodness, to tell you how exactly to run your campaigns. Some of you will be able to win self-management without breaking the law, buying out your owners or using the courts to expel them. Some of you will have to take nonviolent direct action, seizing the means of production for yourselves and occupying your workplaces until the bosses cave in, maybe even setting up your councils and running production right then and there, legalities be damned. That's what we managed in Cournaille, after all. But some of you, at some point or another, may have to rely on force of arms. In that, rest assured that the Revolutionary Guard and your comrade People's Militias are ready to assist you.* *“It is up to each member-union to decide what tactics are necessary to achieve this next step towards World Syndicalism, but the goal is clear and we must go after it in Unity. No alliances with bosses, no settling for bullshit contracts, and no rest until we've taken authority over our work for ourselves!”* ### **Present Day - Office of the RSI Spokesperson, People's Proletarian University, Brouges** For a former academic and a syndicalist intellectual, the great People's Proletarian University was the natural location of RSI Spokesperson Jeannette Jaurès' office. Unlike many organizations, the International was loathe to concentrate its leadership in a palace of any sort: The old Ducal Palace had been converted into a complex of apartments and artisanal shops for the masses. Instead, every officer operated from a location of their choice, provided that meetings with one another and attendance at Congress could be arranged. Upon his arrival at the PPU, Gerald Veron had been treated to wine and bread and cheese as well as anything else that could be provided to help him recover from his long and doubtless treacherous journey from halfway across the world. Though he had seldom been much of a partner to the International, he was considered by the faculty at the University to be a naïve but well-meaning comrade in the worlwide revolutionary struggle. Gerald did not have to wait too long for a meeting with the Spokesperson. She was not the type to keep a guest waiting, especially one on such important business. Reports from RSI contacts in Colongo so far had been scattered and inconclusive, but it was clear that there was violence in the streets. Veron was the first reliable source Jaurès would be able to speak with at length. Once Gerald had taken a seat opposite Jeannette's modest desk, she began in somewhat broken but comprehensible Usonian, “It is a relief to see you in good health, Comrade Velon. You have traveled a long way to be here, and I can only imagine that this confirms our worst fears about the situation in Colongo.” Indeed, the UCF going to the RSI for help was one thing, but their most charismatic leader traveling all the way to Brouges was quite another. “I hope you understand, comrade, that we take the struggle against imperialism-colonialism in Colongo very seriously. “The last reliable news we had from fellow syndicalists in the territory was about preparing for a massive demonstration expected to be larger than any before it. Since then the reports have been scant and worrying: Fighting in the streets, tanks rolling over road-blockaders, massacres. So please speak freely: What exactly happened in your homeland, and what can we do to help?”

### 26 years prior The road had been long and bloody. They had slowly taken town by town, eventually cities. But the victories they had won were hard achieved. A mountain of corpses had piled because of the blood conflict both sides had suffered staggering losses. Before Goren had been entrusted with the command of the Rebellion he was a Sergeant for the Royal forces, up for execution for angering a nobleman above him, he was rescued by a surprise attack on the fortress he was held in. After being freed he pledged himself to the rebellion, and began to help train the newer recruits after stellar progress he was made an officer, and began to assist in the invasion. After a few years he’d gained favor and rank within the rebellion, while on his way to a meeting he was ambushed by two enemy squads, the few men he had managed to fend of the attackers. By the time he arrived to the meeting he discovered that they had been betrayed, all of the upper command had been slain, or mortally wounded. With his new promotion to Grand Counselor, it had left him to be the highest ranking person in the rebellion. The next few weeks were a mess and they had loss a few key battles. After regaining control they restarted their war effort with doubled fever. As the loss of the Rebellion leaders sank in the people began to fight harder wanting to avenge those who threw away their title, their lives to help free them from the oppression of the Royal family. Grand Commander Gorren rebuilt his Upper command from those who he had served with previously. All of them with plenty of years of military experience. The next year months were filled with victory, as the end of the war seemed in sight. They were approaching the Capital city from all sides, the troops were worn, but the loyalists seemed to be ready to end the fighting. Their troops were dwindling and as they lost cities they also lost conscripts they could draft. Even the conscripts they had were flakey frequently abandoning their post or defecting to the rebellion. With each victory they gained weapons, and ammunition. The Loyalist army’s supplies dwindled, and they slowly began to starve in their own cities. Gorren ordered food to be smuggled into sieged cities for the people. Gorren sought for every opportunity to help the masses of the enemy, to win them to his side. He was so effect at turning the people against the Royal family that sometimes they would arrive at a city which had been overthrown by those who lived within. They’d stop for the night to help celebrate the victory with their denizens. The morning of the final push was frost covered, the winter was losing its grasp on the land. It was eerily quiet for those who were standing watch on the city barricades, a dense fog had rolled in from the nearby lake. These were the days that everyone loathed. The rebels had been testing their defenses for days, small attacks, burning a check points. It was slowly wearing on the nerves of the defending army. The Guard on duty squinted into fog, trying to pierce its protective cover. Nearly at the same time he noticed the smoke trail headed towards him. When the rocket exploded, hundreds of men and women came running from the fog, brandishing rifles, spears, and other weapons which could be found. The first Gate was overwhelmed with little to no casualties. It was the street to street fighting which slowed down the assault. As the battle waged on, the loyalist perimeter fell slowly backwards towards the palace. Only twenty blocks away they began to stall the invaders. Their men had taken heavy losses but it seemed that both sides couldn’t push forwards. They both built makeshift barricades to keep the other either in or out. Mid afternoon the rebels began to push again throwing themselves against the sandbags of the loyalists, they fought tooth and nail knowing this could be the end of the oppression. Guard captain Yauls, stood behind his men. They had made a makeshift wall inwhich they were firing liberally at the rebels. They couldn’t seem to advance. He picked up the Radio transmitter and held the receiver to his ear._ “Headquarters, Guard Captain Yauls, we’ve slowed the enemy forces to a halt again, though we’re running low on ammo. I need reinforcements and supplies to keep them at bay any longer.”_ A moment later a dry and nasely voice replied _“Guard Captain Yauls, Quartermaster Tremeth. We can’t deliver you any supplies or reinforcements. We’re fortifying the Palace walls for the inevitable siege.”_ Yauls was dumbfounded as he waited for further orders, hoping to hear a retreat. _“Guard Captain Yauls, the king has ordered all of the defenders outside of the wall to sacrifice their lives in order to buy us time. God bless you Captain, make your king proud.”_ The worst possible news. He looked to his men who all seemed to be as pale as him. This was their end. In the distance the roar of an engine could be heard, and the soft plink sound. As the sound grew closer, the rebels began to pull their barricade apart opening a large hole. Revealing an old model tank, it had been months since the Kingdom had, had any armor support. _“They’ve got a God Damned tank”_ Was all he could get out. Its main cannon erupted sending a high explosive shell into their ranks. None of the men at the checkpoint survived. This is how the rest of the battle went. Advancing slowly behind the armor which had showed up from the rear. They took the Palace in a day with help from artillery they had captured. The next week the King was executed on crimes against his people, and Gorren was successfully placed in power. At first he had refused but was soon swayed by a vote of the upper command. In turn he elected three others to help govern the massive territory they had conquered. The rest of the royal family had been exiled. ### Present Day All Father Gorren, spent a majority of his day attending to public matters. He had two sons, a daughter and a beautiful wife. What little time he could spare he spent it with them. One son had enrolled in the military academy, and his daughter was going to school to become a doctor. He was more than enthused with their life choices. While his youngest was too young to strike out on his own he often attended meetings with his father. Gorren had invested his own money in several buisnesses which had boomed as the years ticked by. He used his own money from this to help pay the debt of the Rebellion. While using the imperiums money to help rebuild the country. On this particular day the main topic was of the recent broadcast sent by the RSI. The rules in the Oussian Imperium were very straight forwards. They believed in freedom, and looked to The all father as a guide, he made a few laws and removed many from the old kingdom. He allowed free trade, Freedom of speech, freedom to own weapons, and freedom to religion. He was seen as a father figure to almost all, and often times went out of his way to assist a city, or to assist a group of people. It mattered not who they were or what they stood for. If he could help he would. It was what the Oussian people had fought for many years ago and what they stood for. His council was staffed with people from almost every walk of life, rich, poor, middle class, people from every city and town almost. It was a total of 350, people. They sat in an assembly hall which they carried out their business. It was a semi complicated matter as at first everyone sat and listened to the All Father on national issues, on amendments to the laws, and on the state of the Imperium. Then one at a time in a slow fashion those with complaints would line up, after that was addressed it was then, those with ideas for the cities, towns, provinces or the imperium as a whole. Once it was all done, if they were not happy with the choice they could seek further council with the Grand Council, who then would voice it back to the All Father. And today there was only one topic it seemed. The RSI, should they bar these people from the land, should they allow them in? What were they to do. After an entire day of debate they had decided. If people wanted refuge they could seek it in The Oussian Imperium. They were allowed to enter the Country as long as they registered, and made the government officials aware of their presence. If they were to carry out acts of terror they would then be barred from the lands. It was put to a vote and 311 of the council voted for. All Father Gorren slowly stood, his eyes swept the room. _“People of the Oussian Imperium, I have given blood, money, and sweat to these lands to see them prosper as they have been. Many of us lost loved ones, and friends twenty years ago. I ask you that you do not encourage their actions, but only give people shelter. They will register with the Census, and then we will build temporary housing for the people so that they may live with a roof over their heads. There will be a small chunk of farmland included so they may grow their own food. I ask of you, who here has land enough for this and is willing to sell?”_ A moment of silence then several hands rose. _“Please see me afterwards. As of now, you are dismissed if you have complaints see me after.”_ He bartered for a while with the four men, and eventually came to a fair agreement. He bought their land with his personal money, then addressed the issues the others had. After he headed to the new Capitol building. He drafted a simple letter addressed to the RSI it read _**Giving refuge to those in their times of trouble.Would like to set up a meeting - The People of The Oussian Imperium.**_ He had it brought to the mailroom where it would be sent out the following day. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine as he thought about the radical message they had sent out. He would increase their military to its full strength tomorrow. This peace offering could also paint a target on the back of the Oussian Imperium.

### Two Weeks ago, aboard the FNS Voorbode, off the coast of the Naarden Peninsula "The Guard Regiments are in place, sir. We are prepared to make the landing." Spoke Commodore William Wright on the Bridge, addressing the senior officer of the joint Dereham Republic/NFRU Task Force, Admiral Daan Jaansen. The Admiral was chosen by the Joint Senior Military Command of the Dereham Republic Armed Forces, and the Federal Military Command of the NFRU to lead Task Force Liberty on it's training mission. He was a man of just over sixty years. He was a figure of pure authority aboard his vessel, his uniform, a solid grey coat, bore many medals decorating his left breast. "Give the order, Heer Wright. If the Sappers are not prepared than they are to be replaced immediately. Begin the operation." replied the decorated naval officer, as he fingered down a hair of his greying mustache. "Aye aye, Admiral." replied Commodore Wright picking up the inter-fleet telephone. "All units, this is the Voorbode, Operation Tidal Wave is a go." After giving the order, the Commodore lifted a notepad from a nearby console and scribbled "0302 Tidal Wave launched," before placing it back down at the console. The Admiral and Commodore walked together to the view port of the Voorbode's Bridge as they watched the Amphibious Landing Vehicles make way for land. The first wave of the training operation consisted of the 1st Guard Regiment, and the 1st Battalion of The Sapper Regiment. The plan for the assault was simple, first wave under the command of Colonel Edward Loren of the Dereham Republic Army. It's objective was to secure a beach-head and hold until the second wave arrived carrying the 2nd Guard Regiment, and the remaining two sapper battalions from The Sapper Regiment. From there, Colonel Loren would leave a single Guard Company to keep the beach-head open, and secure for the third and final wave. With the rest of his force, he would move inland 10 miles in-land eradicating any enemy resistance. The third wave of the assault would bring Light Armored Transport vehicles for the landing forces, as well as any extra necessary equipment. If any stiff resistance was encountered the joint Dereham Republic-NFRU naval task force was to remain on station to provide support. The task force consisted of twelve ships, and submarines. Three Emancipator Class Cruiser, two Type-48 "Draak" Onderzeeboot, three Type-42 "Dagvlieg" Onderzeeboot, two Amner Hall Class Transport ships, and one Revolution Class Aircraft Carrier and the Flagship, a refitted battle-cruiser of Naarden design. The task force was the first incarnation of an amphibious strike group, an idea that came from a mid-level officer in the Dereham Republic Navy. ### Three hours later, Nine and a half miles north of the tip of the Naarden Peninsula "Voorbode, this is Ground Element Headquarters, do you read?" Colonel Loren's radioman spoke into his telephone. It was not long before a reply in the affirmative came from a radio operator aboard the Voorbode. "Voorbode, standby for HQ." The young man spoke as he adjusted his helmet and handed the telephone to Loren. "Voorbode, this is HQ, Time: 0638 Local, all objectives completed. Standing by for further orders." Loren spoke the words calmly, and carefully, while surveying the defensive perimeter he and his men established. Confident that no imaginary enemy would be able to penetrate the position whilst he awaited instructions from the Voorbode. "Ground Headquarters, Voorbode." A new voice spoke into the radio, that of Admiral Daan Jaansen "All units are to egress South to primary ex-filtration point, and rendezvous with the Fleet. Voorbode Out." With everything proceeding exactly according to plan, Colonel Loren waved his hand, and in a moment's notice Officers and Non-commissioned officers began shouting orders. He returned the telephone to the radio operator, who repeated the orders to the other units of the Ground Combat Element. It was back to the Task Force, and then back home. ### Present Day, Joint Special Tactics Training School, Joint Senior Military Command meeting with the Federal Military Command Admiral Daan Jaansen and Commodore William Wright enter a large boardroom, in the center sits a large table seating all bar three members of the Senior Command of the Dereham Republic and all members of the Federal Military Command. After the final reports for Operation Tidal Wave were finished, and sent up their respective chain of commands, the presence of the two highest ranking officers involved was requested to make a personal report to the high command themselves. "Good morning, Admiral. Commodore." spoke an gentleman of 60 years seated at the end of the table. Both the Admiral and Commodore knew that this was Supreme General Morrison of the Dereham Republic Army, however he introduced himself all the same. "I am General Colin Morrison, Commander of the Dereham Republic Army. Please seat yourselves." Both of the men quietly seated themselves adjacent to the General at the far side of the table. "Reports indicate that Operation Tidal Wave was a success, and that together our capabilities to establish, maintain, and exploit an amphibious assault are otherwise far beyond what we had originally thought. This meeting has been sanctioned as I have a single question for you gentlemen." The two naval officers exchanged a glance from across the table before the General continued, "Is it practicable to do in a war zone?" The Commodore and Admiral both exchanged a final glance before answering, "Yes, sir."

Present Day, Verveaux, Ventian Capital The royal family all sat around the circular table, sipping coffee and reading newspapers, not wanting to start the meeting until they had shaken off waking up at 3AM. The Tsar however was waiting for them to finish, drumming his fingers on the table as he looked between them, not touching his coffee which had gone cold by now.  "Are we all suitably ready for the meeting?" Voltus said dryly, waiting for his children to finish off their morning drinks and put down their papers, "good," Looking through his notes one last time he began, "We've all heard of the aggression that have transpired in Colongo I'm sure, so this is why I've brought you here so early. We need a stance on this, Ventium has been quiet about international affairs of this manner for a long time and frankly, it's a bad habit." He looked between his children for a response, he got none, "Give me some opinions," he moaned, "I'm not asking you to write essays!" All his children were older then twenty-one, the elections were coming up and they didn't have the courage to talk to their father, Voltus was screaming on the inside. Until his daughter, Katarinda, spoke up. "This really isn't an issue where we can sit on the fence," she began, "so we are going to need a firm concise decision on which side we choose to side with and frankly there is nothing that could warrant us to join either." Voltus nodded slowly in agreement. "Good," he mumbled, "any more?" he continued clearly. Leopold spoke up. "going off of what Kat said, I believe that yes, we must pick a side but it must be the right side, so it has to be the side that didn't start the aggression first and as of yet we don't know which one is the innocent party. I say we launch an..." he dragged off, forgetting the word that he wanted to use. "Enquiry," his older brother, Ericlis said, "the word you are looking for is Enquiry and yes that would yield us some information that would be rather valuable but I really think we should side with the Ereatian government, we have little to no allies and a navel base in their territory would be quite useful." he spoke professionally as if he knew what he was talking about but then he looked around, "Where is Felicity?" "Still at her conference in the north, but don't worry, she will be informed of our agreement," answered the Tsar, "Now all in favor of launching an investigation raise your hands." everyone raised their hands and the Tsar smiled, *'finally, we're getting somewhere.'* **Telegraph to: Ereatia** *To whomever it may concern within the Ereatian Government, the Ventian government intends on launching an investigation into recent violence that has transgressed in Colongo. The Ventian government would greatly appreciate the full or at least partial support of the government and transparency to help ease the process. We shall also be questioning both sides and draw a verdict as to help us gauge our international stance and possibly help clarify the situation to nations who are yet to have full understanding of the issue.* Present Day, Frigerré, Northern Mining City Felicity, completely mirroring her father, was drumming her fingers on the conference table, however there was no one there as there was down south. She'd been pulled from the relatively warmer mountain top capital to oversee a convention up north, it about minerals and the mining industry, it probably would have been enjoyable if she were just a guest and not a solicitor, but alas her position was predetermined. The conference was 3 days of solid buying and selling of ores and tools, many contacts had been handed out but arguably the most important was to be handed out on the last day (the present day), a trade license with Ventium. A trade license had never been issued to a foreign country and therefore things in bulk couldn't be shipped back and forth, but with this license a whole new world of trade would be opened up for both sides and this prospect was tantalizing for the foreign delegations present in the frozen north. Looking outside the window, Felicity found that it was still pitch black, like someone had drawn blackouts out side, it was 3 in the morning and around her were empty cups of coffee, she was tired waiting for the delegations to arrive to start the meeting and was almost tempted to give the license to the next person who walked through those doors, but she knew to not do that and the decision weighed heavily on her mind. However soon she heard the sounds of distant auto-mobiles driving up to the conference center and true to their sound, headlights were lighting up the blackness a distance away.  Putting on her poker face and clearing away the mugs, she waited, waited for the immense croud of ambassadors and resource ministers to beg her for a contract only one would get. And this brought her a tingle of pleasure, this was her day, no one else's just hers. **Copy of Trade License** *In accordance with the trading laws of the state, the individual or organization that possesses this document has the soul proprietary rights to trade with The Tsardom of Ventium any amount of raw resouce that they so choose and without the impediment of tariffs, exchange rates, taxation on certain goods etc. However the Tsardom and the second party hold full rights to refuse a trade offer in accordance with the document, Nevertheless if a trade is initatited and payed for, may the payment be full or partial, the amount of resource must equate to the sum payed, if not then the party who sent in adequate resource will have to pay back excess value in money. ...Several Clauses Later... Signature one:  Signature two: Additional Signature:*

**Present Day, the Proletariat Assembly in Naarden "Absolutely outrageous!" The cry came out as a shrill shout from the opposition member now standing tall and proud, waving his fist about as if it was some sort of medieval flail with which he could bludgeon his counterpart with. The man couldn't be more than thirty years of age and looked all the part of a young revolutionary fresh from the fight, complete with the trappings of revolution to complete the illusion. All around him similarly dressed individuals shared their consent in the form of raucous applause and hollering, pointing fingers and banging tables. Each and every one of them bore the banner of the Naarden communist party in some form or fashion, either in the form of patches, buttons, or small flags they had brought with them to the Assembly. A quick, wry grin flashed across the face of the accuser, sure of his victory with a single shout and simple thrashing of his limbs. Despite the sheer volume of their outcries, however, the communists were outnumbered. Lining the walls of the simple chamber were scores of indviduals, from the Anarcho-Syndicalist party and the majority Socialist party who remained seated, sneering at their opponents. Although several of the minority Anarcho-Syndicalists had voiced similar opinions about the referendum they had done so much more calmly and in a manner more befitting elected representatives in a house of law making. The Socialists, however, seemed an implacable host of solid dissension, stern displeasure oozing from their frowns and furrowed brows. "How can we allow this ousted traitor of the people to simply return to his position! He is lucky to be alive, let alone living in such quality of life! It would be a disservice to all those who died in the revolutions around the world to allow this tyrant-dog his crown once more! He should remain a curiosity of the old order and nothing more! Or better: Dead!" The numerous agreements came in the form of an audible tidal wave of sound one more, the demagogue's oration sending his followers into a flurry of banging on tables and waving banners once more. One by one they stood, clapping their hands and hooting like apes in a zoo. Even several of the Anarcho-Syndicalists clapped their ascension though not without scornful gazes shared between them and their compatriots in their own party. Throughout it all Representative Anton Aanjes remained stoic, staring down his opponent as if attempting slit his throat with the sharpness of his gaze. Anton was a member of the Socialist Party of Naarden and indeed one of their greatest orators and most outspoken individuals. The man was aged at fifty five, having had his fifty fifth birthday not but three days ago before he had to return to this awful hellhole of sycophants and demagogues after a weekend of joy with his families on the southern beaches of Naarden. A low grumble escaped his lips before he finally stood, taking a moment of calm in the obnoxious cheering to mean it was his time to respond. Two hands slowly slid down from his breast pocket to where his breeches began to straighten out his clothing before he nodded towards the opposition with one hand twirling his majestic, greying moustache into proper position. The instant he had stood upright the members of the Anarcho-Syndicalist and Socialist parties went silent with the opposition grunting out mild, quiet grumbling to hold them over for their next tirade. "My fellow representatives of this fine Republic of Naarden," he intoned in his smokey, southern-accented tongue, "My counterpart has spoken as softly as he did wisely. I can only say that I agree with him wholeheartedly. This whole discussion is without a doubt **absolutely outrageous**. He shouts of revolutions and of ousted tyrants without an understanding of what it is to suffer under the weight of tyranny or fight to shatter said bindings. As all who know me will know, I was there when Prince Daamian abdicated; I was there when the Prince of Vallonia-Picardie shelled the peaceful protesters and I was there when that same Tyrant was arrested and sent to his new home in shackles. My opponent was not. He was ten at the time, no more a man at the time than I am a Prince as I stand before you. Prince Daamian, unlike every ruler within the lands that now constitute this Federal Republic, abdicated. He heard the desires of his people and chose to surrender it all. In a show of mutual benevolence we voted to let him keep a portion of his wealth and a single home in Naarden. Since then he has been nothing but kind to all peoples who have made his acquaintance and has become a beloved symbol of Naardener success: the Prince that served his people, rather than expected them to serve him. This proposed referendum is not to return him to position of Prince as a ruler of men and an arbitrator of laws: he is to be Prince of Naarden, a hallmark of our cultural history and a beloved icon of our victory. Let the world see that the Proletariat and the Monarchy can reach a place where one need not slay the other. I beseech you to see the will of the people as this Prince did. The votes are in, the signatures cast, the petitions clear; the people's desire for a referendum to reinstate the hereditary title of Prince of Naarden. You, as their appointed representatives, owe it to them to enact their will, not that of your own. This is not a decision to declare him Prince right here and now but to give the people the chance to make the choice for themselves. I know I shall enter that poling booth and vote just as any other citizen and I urge you all to do the same rather than bandy your words in the privacy of this assembly where the people cannot hear you. Do the right thing, Brothers and Sisters of the Revolution, and let them decide what's right for them." Applause filled the hall as two thirds of the room stood, clapping their hands and offering praises in the form of verbal support and ascension. The Communist party floundered, looking to themselves with worried glances as the idea of them being similar to the tyrannical monarchists in any way gave them great pause. With their party leaders blanching at keeping the democratic vote from the people they raised the white flag and called recess, with acceptance of the referendum being signed onto paper without a single face-to-face meeting between the parties. They may have lost but they sure wont going to show it. The referendum was set to take place one month from now, with a single speech by Prince Daamian to educate the population on his intentions.

## Three weeks ago:                   Archon Soter watched with rapt attention both to the news program and the weekly intelligence briefing going on in front of him about the specifics of the riots that had occurred. The juxtaposition of sensationalist reporting and the reading of testimonies with the dispassionate machinating of his security staff, Soter found striking. He learned that the suicide bombing was a terrorist operation conducted by Usonian terrorists, and that this may be a sort of macabre “advertisement”, meant to show foreign governments and bodies that the Usonian resistance was viable.                     He couldn’t help but sigh at the coverage coming out of Alleghany of a brutal crackdown by Eraetian soldiers. Events such as these gave the Syndicalist swine rhetorical arguments and made trouble at home. At the same time the Malassakian government needed to show the difference between the Eraetian system of government and the one exercised in Paurava, the largest colony of the Republic.                     In some ways, the difference was obvious. Control of Paurava was not recent, like the Eraetian control of Colongo, but medieval. People were accustomed to Malassakian rule and compared to the disparate princely states that formed up the Pauravan area 600 years ago, whose reign were marked by feudalism and perpetual war, the relative liberty brought by the Malassans was significantly greater. Compared with Eraetian rule, they had much greater liberty. They were given representation in the Epikrateis  (however, that most wealthy Pauravans were either Malassan or pro-malassan was no concern of the federal government). They had a great measure of local autonomy, (which justified no representation in the Foroglia). They had freedom of speech and press, although “Hate speech” against Malassans was tightly controlled. Time and experience had allowed the Malassans to perfect the art of ruling a people initially against their wishes while convincing them they wanted to stay, where Eraetia was acting like the young in their form of colonial government; brash, impulsive, violent.                     But they were ruled inequally from afar, and no matter how he and the Malassans tried to spin or assuage concerns, there was always a chance that they would rise against them and demand their own state. For the moment, the possibility seemed remote, but if Colongo became independent or waged a major rebellion, that possibility could increase. Soter thus had to face a dilemma of looking like he was for freedom while at the same time supporting a repressive regime.                     Malassa and Eraetia weren’t ideological allies, that was certain. The market liberal parties of Malassa differed greatly from the militaristic heads in Eraetia, but they had very common interests. Malassa needed Eraetian battalions in a war, just as much as Soter believed Eraetia, an archipelago, needed the preeminent sea power’s ships. They benefitted much more from cooperation than competition, and as allies they were a force to be reckoned with.   He prepared the following statement and had it released through the press secretary. “On behalf of the people of Malassa, I express the deepest sympathies for the people of Eraetia and total solidarity with them. Malassa stands with its ally in its time of need and reaffirms its commitments to defense and will actively assist in investigation and retribution should attribution be made to an external organization, pursuant to article 7 of the Malasso-Eraetian treaty.”   The private letter he wrote to Minister Wilde four weeks later (OOC: The present day) after all the intelligence had come in had a far different tone.   “Minister Wilde, I have received most troubling reports about a violent crackdown  conducted by your soldiers, and an excessive use of force. Worse still, I’ve received news that your government cooperated in a media blackout of any coverage of this. Is this so? If it is, minister, you must get your house in order. I can politically withstand the cries by the peaceniks, but I cannot look like I am involved in supporting a government willfully massacring its people. Was the decision to crackdown in this manner from your level of the administration, and if not, have you held the perpetrators to account?   Archon Antiochus Soter,”

### Present day - Office of the the RSI Spokesperson As Gerald puts a lump of bread in his mouth he could not help but to think back about the events of roughly 4 weeks ago and the gruesome journey that followed. When the shooting started panic struck the masses on the town square. As the chaos erupted Gerald Veron only real option was to run for safety. With the protest turning into a firefight he instantly knew the Ereatian government would start looking for in order to blame him for the tragedy. Fleeing Congolo was really the only option for any opposition leader that became a target of interest. Veron looked at the desk Jeanette Joures was sitting behind. He was looking for the right words. A way to start the conversation and tell the story from the start. "I am grateful you where able to receive me on such a short notice. The situation in Colonga has gone completely out of hand. Many people have died and the Governor has put up very strict curfews' and prohibited any gatherings in public places. The military arrests everybody who violates the regulations and put them into prison camps without any form of trial. Probably thousands have been arrested already. Also anyone suspected of being involved with opposition groups have been arrested, homes and workshops have been raided and heavily armed soldiers patrol the streets. The repression was never been this bad. Everything changed since the last demonstration" Gerald Veron paused a bit as he just realized that he started with the end of the story and not the beginning. He as he looked up to ms Joures he continued his story. " There has always been many forms of resistance against the Ereatian oppression of my country. Some groups use violence while UCF believed we could solve this matter in a peaceful way. I believed that there was a maximum lifespan to any colonial system and that we just had to raise our voice when a favorable government would come in control over the Ereatian Empire. In Ereatia itself is also a lot of opposition against their colonial adventures and with during the past 3 election round the hardcore imperialists lost ground in their parliament. I believed that through demonstrations and strikes we could pressure the Ereatian government into starting the decolonization but my believe has been shaken since the events." Gerald thought once more about the events. His mind went back to the start of the demonstration. " We always notify our comrades through our movements newspaper Red Rebel for any upcoming demonstration or strike. Four weeks ago was no different. The dockworkers, Factory workers, Oil workers and Iron workers all showed up but they weren't the only ones. Johnny DeWade, leader of the Usonian Liberation Front had gotten notice of our demonstration and rallied his supporters to join. The ULF never had joined our rallies before and generally discard us as communist cowards for our lack of violence. In the past I've asked them numerous times to join but they had always refused. The numbers of people marching doubled this demo and everything went fine. Usually we march to town square, where the governor's office is located and scant our discontent about the situation. Sometimes the disgruntled youth starts throwing rocks, bottles and molotiv cocktails and the demo turns into a riot. The security forces then respond with battons and shield until the youths have been chased away or arrested. Most get released after a week or two. But on the last demonstration in went all different. As we arrived at town square we marched towards the Governors' building and then shots were fired. First one, then quickly followed by more. I could not see who was hit or who was shooting but after the first few shots the Ereatian security forces went all out. Shooting with their side arms in the crowd until their magazines where empty. I saw the people fall on all sides of me" Gerald hesitated as he remembered how many of his friends died that day. Anger took over his previously tired face as the pictures flashed before his eyes. "Everybody panicked and ran for safety into the many small alleyways of Uson (the usonian name of Colongo's capital and largest city). As the crowd fled from the town square fights broke out all over the city. I watched how security forces drove in with truck and tanks. Arresting every Usonian they encountered, shooting anyone who resisted on sight. Many of my people fought with whatever they had but some also had rifles, pistols and hand grenades. I've never seen the Usonians so angry. I watched how a group of Usonian Youths dragged an Ereatian women out of her home and beat her to death with iron pipes. Manny Usonians went to target Ereatian immigrants and Ereatian hold possessions. In the next days the violence spread to other cities as word of the towns square massacre spread throughout Usonia. I saw hundreds of my fellow countrymen lie death in the streets. All butchered by Ereatian soldiers." Gerald clenched his hand into a fist as he tried to fight his anger. "I saw my friends, comrades and my son all lie death in the streets. All shot. Those bastards killed my son while he was unarmed and barely 18. They shot him, in the streets as he tried to flee from the violence. We raised our voice and the Ereatians used rifles to shut them" ### Ereatia, Government hall Prime minister Steven Wilde sat down at his desk after the meeting looking down at two diplomatic messages his government had received. One was from the Ventians and the other from his Malassakian allies. Both where about the recent events in Colongo. Slowly details about the severity of the violence were leaking into the world. The press blackout was clearly not effective enough. As he thought about the situation, a man in a tight suit entered the room without knocking. Prime minster Wilde looked up and quickly nodded "I hope you bring good news, Mr. Smith" Mister Smith is what people would call a trusty. Some would even consider him the prime ministers man. Mr Smith was not affiliated with any formal agency of the Ereatian empire and yet all doors opened up to him. The prime minister had personally instructed him to investigate the Colongo riots and the man was here to bring out his report. "Would you like to hear the most positive story or the actual facts, prime minister?" Asked the man. Steven WIlde pointed to one of the seats in front of his desk and nodded "Start with the actual facts. After that I will listen to what you believe would be the story we should tell" Mr Smith didn't move. "You know I prefer to stand, Steven. But I will tell you what I've learned. Soldiers from 32nd marine battalion all testified that they started shooting after their CO was shot. In fact, they all confirmed that the first victim was commander Rogers. All soldiers that died from shot wounds in the first 30 minutes where all officers of the 32nd marine battalion. During the autopsy on the officers the bullets where retrieved from the bodies. All officers have been shot with a large caliber long distant rifle" Steven Wilde looked up. "You're stating that someone deliberately targeted the chain of command of the security forces present at the square, Mr Smith?" "Yes, I have also confirmed that those shots were not fired from the crowd. A sniper has been firing from one of the apartments on the other side of the square. Somebody deliberately targeted the officers in order to create chaos. I have .....questioned the owners and renters of the apartment but they came out clean. I am positive that they were not involved in this case. Analysis of the bullets and cartridges found made me believe that the shooter used a sniper rifle produced in Alleghany. It is most likely bought on a black marked and smuggled into Colongo. As the shooter continued to target the battalions officers, the soldiers returned fire to where they believed the firing came from, the crowd of protestors. The shooting resulted in a massive panic from both the security forces and the crowd of protestors. Tens of thousands Usonians tried to flee the scene and many of them where simply overrun. Analasys of the retrieved bodies shown the following figures. 27 marines where shot with the same rifle. 23 of them where officers or non-commission officers. Another 15 marines where beaten to death by protestors when they got isolated from the rest. 247 Usonian were found on the square who had died gun fire produced by Ereatian firearms. 2785 Usonians where crushed to dead as the crowd panicked." Mr Smith paused and walked towards a cabinet containing various drinks of the Alcoholic kind and poured two glasses of whiskey. "This is going to be a long night prime minister and you look like you could use a drink" Spoke Mr Smith as he put the glass on the desk. "Somebody wanted to egnite the powder keg in Colongo and succeeded. What followed directly after the town square shooting was that many groups of angry Usonians targeted everything Ereatian in sight. They released their rage on women, children, shops, homes, churches and where met with brutal repression by the army. Some of the usonians believed that the revolution had started and grabbed their hidden weapons in order to fight. In the next 4 days there would be violent clashes between mobs of angry Usonians and your military throughout the colony. It is needless to say that the high civilian dead toll is bad publicity for the empire. Such violent oppression had not been seen for over a decade. No wonder the Ventians call for an investigation and the Malassakians are worried about how your administrations actions will reflect on them due to the alliance." Steven Wilde looked slightly worried. He could not risk the alliance with the Malassakian alliance nor did he want to put a strain on the relations with the Ventians. Not now there was a chance to get valueble trade agreements with that country. "You are as informed as always Mr. Smith. How did our security forces deal with the situation? Did they follow the protocols about the use of violence against civilians?" Mr Smith smiled. "Yes, Governor Richard Meanor had followed all the protocols to the letter for when the Usonians would get violent. Those protocols include a complete media blackout and coverup." "Who, wrote down those protocols?" Replied the prime minister "Have you forgotten Steven? You wrote them down 15 years ago. You are the architect of all the security protocols for stabilizing the then newly formed colony of Colongo. It was of course approved by a former administration, but can you imagine what the damage would be if the international public would learn that the current Ereatian prime minister designed protocols that would call for shooting civilians in case of massive civil disobedience ? I suggest we move on to the story part" Steven Wilde face became bleak as he listened to Mr Smith. It was true. 15 year ago Steven was working for the ministry of defense and was charged with writing and reviewing all security protocols for maintaining order. "What do you suggest, Mr. Smith?" "That depends on what your interest is Steven. Do you want to do what is best for your country or for you?" The prime minister knew that he was in a tight spot. All credibility of his country would be lost if the world found out that he was responsible for the security policies and could still be in office. The other side of the story would be that he had to step down, become subject of investigation and face trail for his role in this incident possibly under international law. That could well mean life in prison or worse. The government would fall and new elections would be held. His party would most likely lose the power but the Empire would save face internationally. The prime minister looked at the man in front of him with a determined look on his face. "Cover my involvement up and create a scrapegoat" Mr Smith bowed done slightly and spoke. "As you wish my prime minister". Later that night Prime Minister Steven Wilde appeared in a passionate radio speech. Explaining that terrible violence had erupted in Colongo and many Usonian and Ereatian lifes had been lost. He also told the public that the Governor and his administration violated all the protocols on how to handle and that the governor had ordered his forces to use a disproportionate amount of violence in order to restore order. Over 300 soldiers, officers and Governor, General Richard McMeanor had been arrested for their involvement in the incident. At the same time all evidence that current president Steven Wilde had written the protocols where erased from the face of the earth. ### Malassakian capital. Colonel Kensington Richards made his way from the Ereatian embassy towards the one of the Malassakian Republics government buildings. He had received orders to deliver the official investigation report on the Colongo crisis to Archon Antiochus Sotar as soon as possible. The report explained how a sniper targeted soldiers and officers who where policing the demonstration and that the soldiers believed they were shot at by the crowd. It also told that the governor ordered the use of excessive force against the demonstrators and insurgents and that he abused his power to order a media blackout and tried to cover the incident up. As Colonel Kensington entered the building he introduced himself to the lady at the desk. "Good afternoon, my name is Colonel Kensington Richards, ambassador of Ereatia. I have an appointment with Archon Antiochus Sotar" ### Telegram to the Tsardom fo Ventium To his majesty , Supreme Commander, Tsar Voltus Ventus, A great tragedy has befallen the citizens of Colongo. The loss of life is irreplaceable and our first thought go to the families who have lost their loved ones in the crises, regardless of their cultural or racial background. The string of events have been under thorough investigation and we are happy to share our findings with you. We can assure you that anyone who played a part in the incident will be persecuted and will be held accountable for his role. Justice will be served. Ereatia strives to be a transparent nation. Therefore we are willing to share our official investigation report to whomever desires to read it. I will make arrangements to have the report send to as fast as possible. Yours sincerely, Prime Minister Steven Wilde of the Ereatian Empire

**From the Journal of Lawrence Birch, Representative of the Federated States of Alleghany** Colongo twinkled in the sun as squawking gulls circled overhead, water slapped noisily at the harbour wall and the gang-board banged like a drum as we disembarked from the _Prudence_, weary and disorientated by nearly two weeks at sea but weak with happiness at finally reaching land. I stopped in my tracks as sailors from a neighbouring frigate rolled barrels across my path with a sound like distant thunder, and my gaze went from the glittering emerald ocean, where the masts of Ereatian warships, yachts and frigates rocked gently from side to side, to the dock, the wide stone steps that led from the piers and jetties to the harbour thronging with redcoats, traders and sailors, then up past the harbour to Colongo City itself, the church spires and distinctive red brick buildings seemingly resisting any attempts at arrangement, as though flung by some godly hand on to the side of the hill. And, everywhere, Ereatian flags that fluttered gently in the breeze, just to remind visitors—in case they had any doubts—that the region's oppressors were here. The passage from Axiom's (now Alleghian territory) southern coast to Colongo had been eventful, to say the least. I had made friends and discovered enemies, surviving an attempt on my life—by Ereatian vigilantes, no doubt—who wanted to take revenge for the killing of their kind's officers and to show their Colongoese who's boss. To the other passengers and crew of the ship I was a mystery. Some thought I was a scholar. I told my new acquaintance, an Alleghian journalist, that I “solved problems,” and that I was travelling to Colongo to see what life was like there; what had been retained from the Ereatian empire and what had been discarded; what changes Ereatian rule had wrought. Which were fibs, of course. But not outright lies. For though I came on specific political business, I was curious, too, to see this land I had heard so much about, which was apparently so vast, its people infused with a pioneering, indomitable spirit. There were those who said that spirit might one day be used against us, the Allgheians, and that our subjects, if they harnessed that determination, would be a formidable foe. And there were others who said Colongo was simply too big to be governed by the Ereatians; that it was a tinderbox, ready to go off; that its people would grow tired of the taxes imposed upon them so that a country thousands of miles away could fight wars with other countries thousands of miles away; and that when it did go off both they and us might not have the resources to protect our interests. All of this I hoped to be able to judge for myself. But only as an adjunct to my main mission, though, which . . . well, I think it’s fair to say that, for me, the mission has changed en route. I’d stepped on the _Prudence_ holding a particular set of beliefs and stepped off having had them first challenged, then shaken and, finally, changed, and all because of the book. The book that Vice President Reginald Stuart had given me: I’d spent much of my time aboard the ship poring over it; I must have read it no fewer than two dozen times, and still I’m not sure I have made sense of it. One thing I do know, though. Whereas before, I’d thought of the supposed power of the Colongoese with doubt, as would a sceptic, an unbeliever, and considered Reginald’s obsession with them to be at best an irritation, at worst a preoccupation that threatened to derail the very workings of Alleghany, I no longer did. I believed. The book seemed to have been written—or should I say written, illustrated, decorated, scrawled— by a man, or maybe several of them: several lunatics who had filled page after page with what, at first, I took to be wild and outlandish claims, fit only for scoffing at then ignoring. Yet, somehow, the more I read, the more I came to see the truth. Over the years, Reginald had told me (I used to say “bored me with”) his theories concerning the power of the Colongoese and their former kingdom. He’d always asserted that we were born of their struggles and thus obliged to serve them; that our ancestors had fought to secure their own freedom in a long and bloody war. What I discovered during my passage was that all of this originated from the book, which as I read it, was having what I can only describe as a profound effect upon me. Suddenly I knew why Reginald had become so obsessed with these people. I’d sneered at him, remember? But, reading the book, I felt no desire to sneer at all, just a sense of wonderment, a feeling of lightness inside me that at times made me feel almost giddy with an excitement and a sense of what I can describe as “insignificance,” of realizing my own place in the world. It was as though I had peered through a keyhole expecting to see another room on the other side but seen a whole new world instead. And what had become of that kingdom that had eventually branched off to become the Federated Staes? What had they left behind, and how could it benefit us? That I didn’t know. It was a mystery that had confounded Alleghany for centuries, a mystery I’d been asked to solve, a mystery that had brought me here, to Colongo City. “Master Birch! Master Birch!” I was being hailed by a young gentleman who appeared from within the throng. Going over to him, I said, carefully, “Yes? May I help you?” He held out his hand to be shaken. “Louie Johnson, sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’ve been asked to introduce you to the city. Help you settle in.” I had been told about Johnson. He was not an official of the Alleghian government but was keen to join us and, according to Reginald, would want to ingratiate himself with me in the hope of securing my sponsorship. Seeing him reminded me: I was the Alleghain representative of Colongo now. Charles had long, dark hair, thick sideburns, a prominent, hawk-like nose and purple skin typical of Usonians, and even though I liked him straight away, I noticed that, while he smiled when he spoke to me, he reserved a look of disdain for everybody else on the harbour. He indicated for me to leave my bags, and we began to thread our way through the crowds of the long pier, past dazed-looking passengers and crew still getting their bearings on dry land; through stevedores, traders and Ereatian soldiers, excited children and dogs scuttling underfoot. I tipped my hat to a pair of a giggling women then said to him, “Do you like it here, Johnson?” “There’s a certain charm to Colongo City, I suppose,” he called back over his shoulder. “To all of the colonies, really. Granted, their cities have none of Thearis’ (the Alleghian capital) sophistication or splendour, but the people are earnest and hardworking. They’ve a certain pioneer spirit that I find compelling.” I looked around. “It’s quite something, really—watching a place that’s finally found its feet.” “Feet awash in the blood of others, I’m afraid.” “Ah, that’s a story old as time itself, and one that’s not likely to change. We’re cruel and desperate creatures, set in our conquering ways. The whole of Kervan history's is but a series of subjugations.” “I pray one day we rise above it,” replied Louie earnestly. “While you pray, I’ll act. We’ll see who finds success first, hmm?” “It was an expression,” he said, with a wounded edge to his voice. “Aye. And a dangerous one. Words have power. Wield them wisely.” We lapsed into silence. “Your commission is with Edward Braddock, is it not?” I said, as we passed a cart laden with the kind of fruit you'd see in Corin Island. “Aye, but I figured I might . . . well . . . I thought . . .” I stepped nimbly to the side to avoid a small girl in pigtails. “Out with it,” I said. “Forgive me, sir. I had . . . I had hoped that I might study under you. If I am to serve Alleghany, I can imagine no better mentor than yourself.” I felt a small surge of satisfaction. “Kind of you to say, but I think you overestimate me.” “Impossible, sir.” Not far away, a red-faced newsboy wearing a cap yelled out news of a recent sighting of Dereham soldiers on the Naarden Peninsula: “Forces from a warship belonging to the Dereham Navy have landed in Naarden,” he bawled. “In response, the government of Naarden plans to pledge more troops to counter the foreign menace!” The foreign menace, I thought. The Dereham, in other words. This soon-to-be conflict many were calling the Northern War was set to escalate, if the rumours were to be believed. There was not an Alleghian alive who didn’t detest the militaristic Dereham, but I knew one Alleghian in particular who hated them with a vein-bulging passion, and that was Edward Williams. That’s where he would be, leaving me to go about my own business—or so I hoped. I waved away the newsboy when he tried to extort sixpence from me for the broadsheet. I had no desire to read about any more conflicts. Meanwhile, as we reached our cab and Charles told me that we were to ride for the renowned Red Horse Tavern, I wondered what the other men would be like. “Have you been told why it is I’ve come to Colongo?” I asked. “No. Master Stuart said I should know only as much as you saw fit to share. He sent me a list of names and bade me ensure you could find them.” “And have you had any luck with that?” “Aye. Edward Little waits for us at the Red Horse.” “How well do you know him?” “Not well. But he saw the Alleghian mark and did not hesitate to come.” “Prove yourself loyal to our cause and you may yet know our plans as well,” I said. He beamed. “I should like nothing more, sir.”