Office of the RSI Spokesperson, People's Proletarian University, Brouges Gerald Veron thought about what he wanted from the RSI. The deployment of RSI soldiers would be an open war against Ereatia and their allies. It would drag many countries into a war of proportions never seen before. "We should avoid deploying any formal troops of the RSI or any affiliated states. It would only drag many more nations into a conflict that could potentially mean the death of millions. Not to mention I have my doubts that the RSI could land troops on the Colongo shores when you take both the Ereatian and Malassakian navies into account." Gerald pauzed. An armed rebellion was the next step but victory on the battlefield would not be a necessity. Gerald Veron continued. "We need funding, weapons and trainers in order to start a full scale armed rebellion. The UCF has over 50.000 members and many more supporters. We could smuggle weapons and supplies into the country through the harbors. The dockworkers are all trustworthy comrades. Also it might be possible to smuggle weapons in through Alleghany. But starting the rebellion is only the first phase. We must fight the Ereatians to at least a stand still. Create a strong position for negotiations. You need to mobilize the international community to put pressure on the Ereatians in order to force them to negotiate. Economic sanctions and trade embargo's will be convincing arguments for them"

"The International is not a state," Spokesperson Jaurès corrected. "I concede that some of the imperialists may present us this way in order to paint us as a 'foreign' threat, but we still have a range of action impossible for a nation." The professor-politician listened to the rest of Veron's remarks attentively, mentally noting all of his suggestions. "We can certainly arrange for weapons and supplies. And though you are right to warn against a military landing, there is no reason we can't funnel experienced soldiers and agents into your ranks. After all, the RSI will need a line of communication in order to respond appropriately to the evolving reality on the ground. And I am sure the UFC, lacking in combat experience as it is, could benefit from some guidance and training by veteran comrades. In fact, we may be able to call upon our member-unions in Alleghany to send entire volunteer brigades, disguised as Alleghany pan-nationalists of course. "As for applying global pressure onto the imperialists, if you would present your case to the Revolutionary Workers' Congress, we may be able to declare the Ereatian Empire an Enemy of the People. All the unions of the International outside of Ereatia would boycott the Empire's goods, while those inside would do everything in their power to slow and stall production: Slowdowns, strikes, road blockades, port shutdowns, you name it. Would that be enough, do you think?"

Office of the RSI Spokesperson, People Proletarian University, Brouges Gerald Veron though deeply about the subject. Going to war means that people will lose their lives. What good is freedom when not everyone could enjoy it? Being a country is not about borders, resources or cities. What truly matters is those who live in it. "We'll be needing small arms such as rifles, hand grenades, explosives and man portable anti tank weapons. Weapons that are easy hidden and transported. Also light anti-aircraft weapons will be a necessity. Furthermore we'll be needing trainers who can teach us how to handle the weaponry." Gerald Veron grabbed a piece of paper and started to write down some numbers. 25.000 rifles 15.000 submachine guns 40.000 pistols 1.000 mortars 5.000 anti-tank rifles/rockets 4.000 machineguns 2.000 light anti-aircraft weapons "Can you supply these weapons next month? They can be smuggled across the border with Alleghany or through the port of Colongo City. I would also like to present the Usonian case to the revolutionary workers congress." Telegram to Tsar Voltus Ventus of the Tsardom of Ventium, Emperor Axaium Uldra of the Irodian Empire, Archon Antiogus Soter of The Malassakian Republic, Grand General of the Army Krux Wilheilm Mirz of THe Great Westhurst Union. Greetings, As you have all been aware, a new treat to the peace and stability of Kervan has risen over the past decades known as the Revolutionary Syndicalist Internatiol. This terrorist organization has overthrown many governments of the great nations in the past and will not stop until all of Kervan has been remodeled to their ideals. Recently they have started a terror campaign in Colongo and their revolution will not stop until all of Kervan has become Syndicalist. In the lights of thi rising treat The Ereatian Empire is looking to strengthen in bonds with your nations. We strongly believe that nations that persue a different path than this Syndicalism should stand united in facing the challenges these terrorists will bring to our countries. Therefor we would like to invite you or a representative of your nation to an upcoming meeting where we should discuss all the diplomatic challenges we face in todays world. The meeting will be held at The Ventian Skyship Overwatch that will be stationed in Colongo next week. I hope to that all the nations will attend. Yours sincerely, Prime Minister Steven Wilde The Ereatian Empire

Deleted. Wrong topic

**THE PRESENT DAY, BORDER PATROL UNIT G-9, COLONGO-ALLEGHANY FRONTIER BORDER** The group waded through the dry tall grass that made up most of the frontier land between Alleghany and Colongo, you would be able to cross the border unknown to even yourself if there hadn't been mile upon mile of rusted barbed wire and tank traps from wars past. They were a 16 troop team, split into two eights and walking side by side a few yards apart, in four rows of two per eight. They were lead by Optio Jenene Forest, a hardass officer with a no nonsense attitude. They were all dressed in the expeditionary forces uniform, desert camouflage fatigues and black Alice packs, each one carrying the weapon that corresponded to their position, for the Optio it was a rifle. They had been assigned to this section of the border for a week now and it's been all quiet, the only time they had discharged their weapons was at some local carnivores that got too close, looking down at her map she guessed that they were half a mile out from an old derelict border-crossing checkpoint, and from the sounds of distant trucks she was right. She furrowed her brows, 'distant trucks?' she ordered her troops to get down, gesturing for them to crouch, they remained crouched for the next half mile until they crested a hill overlooking the dilapidated check point. There were 12 identical trucks, six on one side of the border and six on the other and between them were people, civilians, transferring crates from the trucks on the  Alleghany  side of the border to the ones one the Ereatian side, it looked suspicious enough but it turned dangerous when one of the pairs handling a longer crate dropped it, spilling it's contense. What must have been a dozen submachineguns poured out of the tipped wooden box and the group around them produced weapons from their clothes in alarm.  "Shit," mumbled the Optio in shock, as she watched the scene through a pair of field-glasses, "Radio Overwatch, report that six trucks carrying weapons are entering Ereatian land from Alleghany and that we need a an airship to HA [military terminology: High Altitude] tail them." the radio operator nodded and relayed the message, but as she scanned the sight further, her heart sank into her stomach as she saw one if the smugglers looking back at her from another pair of binoculars. The next thing the group knew was that they were underfire and the radio operator was screaming their coordinates into the radio and calling for back-up, however once the numbers left his mouth they were all dead but he got the message across, right before a bullet got him in the neck. **OVERWATCH** "Deploy two moon shadows to D-9, they're coming under fire!" yelled the radio operator on the other side, into another radio set next to him, the message was carried across the Elektrum cables that snaked the massive Zeppelin to the ship bay where two armed ships were deployed, one flying HA and the other low to the ground, to get more speed. It was the low altitude ship that found the bodies first but it was the HA that found the trucks and tracked them to a sugar cane farm 60 miles from the border. The radio operator relayed and a strike team was on it's way.  The Tsar was in the war room when he was informed, he took the task of escorting the bodies back to Ventium, he would be back in time for the meeting. **VERVEAUX, VENTAIN CAPITAL, AN ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE BY THE THE TSAR** *"People of Ventium, today our blood has been spilt in the name of peace! The blood of OUR children has come forth from their wounds by the bullets of an enemy force, an evil force! They were culled by people who do not fear the punishment of all might god, but there will be retribution! Yes, there will be retribution, for with the grace of god we shall bring forth upon them the wrath of the people of the book. We shall fight them in the savannas, we shall fight them in the jungles and on the streets and on the roof tops. We will give then no quarter, no respite, so when they die by our punishment they will stand in front of the majesty that is the LORD and they will accept his punishment with nary an objection because they will know they have done evil after the fury we will bring unto them, they will know they have done wrong when the wronged return for justice!"

It was early in the morning at the Port of Brizen. It was a small naval dock, located at one of the southern most shores where the land wasn't as dramatic in elevation. The air was clear and the sun shining brightly as the towns people went about their day. Recently, one of the few Arkillia merchant ships had arrived only two days earlier. Aboard were some peculiar outsiders, dressed and sharp black uniforms. They had remained in the town's more finer tavern before today, but now they were being escorted towards the Airship docks. A luxury version of an Arkillian Merchant Airship had arrived only an hour earlier, and now the sharply dressed stranger and his intimidating guards boarded the ship. They were taken to a lounge like room with couches and tables, well lit by the natural sunlight flowing in through the large observation windows. The room was silent as it was empty, except the two Arkillian guards standing at the opposite door. As the men took their seats the door open revealing a Valkyerian man dressed in a high ranking Airborne fleet uniform. "Ahh Gentlemen! Glad to see the trip by sea was uneventful. I do hope the journey was not too bad. Welcome aboard the E.M.S. Alkeria, I am Major Varkos Thont and I will be escorting you during your stay in the Empire." he sat across from them and pulled out a map, flattening it on the table. "We will be arriving in the capital, Vaalermoor, in only an hour or so as the winds are in our favor today." They passed over the various farmlands and towns that dotted the rolling, uneven landscape. as they approached the capital, airships from all over the nation were buzzing about in the air, many landing in preparation for the opening ceremony. Their arrival was just in time as it was the day all Arkillians celebrate across the nation. They day the Liberian Wars finally ended and Valkyerians across the nation were freed. The capital below them bustled with energy and activity as people hastily moved about to get a good view of the parade. The airship the group road in finally began to descended towards a massive complex. Large runways, hangars, and one mega structure covered the area with all sorts of military and civilian flying machines moving around it. They docked in the large mega complexes that housed countless airships and finally made their way to the capital building. They were ushered through the room to a large open balcony that overlooked a massive square, filled to the brim with citizens. They were seated among other high ranking military members as the members of the Senate sat on the other side. In the middle stood the Chancellor, a strong looking women with strikingly intense orange eyes and pure white hair trimmed with black. "My fellow people of Arkillia... I stand here before you, humbled to see this great gathering. My position, your support, the fact that we can stand here is all the evidence I need that there is no such thing as "fate". WE can decide our own destiny! WE can chisel out our own history! And most of all WE are FREE!" a small pause as the ground cheered loudly before settling down. "SO here I am! A proud person of the Valkyeria! And here we live in this time! This time were we not only broke the shackles of slavery but the shackles of gravity! We, the people of the sky! Have finally returned to our home!" One that, the roar of engines was heard. Large flights of Arkillian fighters, attackers, and bombers flew in beautiful formations throughout the sky. The bombays on the bombers opened, dropping confetti out over the sky. Following them were the 1st Fleet. The major flying force consisting of numerous airships including a Fortress Class. It caste a massive shadow over the crowd as it passed over, firing its minor guns off in succession while lowering banners along its hull. "Now let us begin the celebration of liberation!" The crowd cheered and with that, the Chancellor stepped down and walked back into the building, followed by the rest of the attendants. Moments later, the men were ushered into a well lit conference room. In there sat an aged man with a high ranking uniform and a much younger woman wearing a different, yet similar uniform. Finally, the Chancellor entered and everyone took their seat. Outside the windows, the airships and aircraft still flew overheard, putting on a show for the people below. "Welcome, representatives of the Great Westhurst Union. I am Chancellor Helena Vortzeria. This is HandelWind Kommandant Walt Hoffmesser, he is head of our Airborne Fleet." the aged man nodded to them. "...and this is Katherine Avonsta, our top Strike Witch and specialist in air combat."

Throught the hours, through the days, people had somehow, someway managed to keep their activities from the authority which controlls, and the authority which protects the wellbeing of the union. Selfishness had spoiled the minds of the people of a remote, distant, farm town of Helingrain, Heingrid. What factor, which mischevious entity that might've caused this uproar stood unknown in the eyes and minds of every turmwächter member, officer, soldier, and commanding Ubermeisters, no one had any signs or indications. All which had to be done was deal the blow which would end the calamity which was now. For the town had ceased it's functions in revolt against the Stratocracy of Westhurst, against High Command. The question only remained how long they'd live their ignorance of self loathing, their selfishness. Unknown to Hubert Claud, the event organizer, and a very devote believer in the R.S.I. there was now a locomotive, a powerful, bod powered armored train equal to the combined wrath of thunder and it's fury. Rolling onwards on the tight and enduring train tracks was carried an iron behemoth, on its side were inscribed the words Rapeun Festnung: Eisen Blitz II. Within it were the might of over two hundred riot specialized Turmwächter and ten men, above all others, ten men of the Schwere Garde. At the helm of the Eisen Blitz II stood Ubermeisterleit Gerd Aisenhow, a man standing on the brink of entering the High Command outer council. ''Herr Ubermeisterleit Aisenhow, we're 45 minutes from Helingrain. We're able to fire our Welt Schüttlers in 15 minutes, they're primed and ready.'' The helm of the train looked much like the command bridge of a battleship, these landcruisers, bound by the rails, were much like them in that regard, powerful machinations of death and destruction. ''Good. We'll call in assistance from Gebein Gultz VI in a combined bechuss of the traitiorous workers, they're probably being funded by some backwater nation to slow down our military supplylines.'' A black uniformed officer stated, standing at the very center of the command bridge, it was Aisenhow. A uniform decored by numerous medals and the typical incorperation of steel into the uniform that seemed unique of the Ubermeisters of the Westhurst Union. ''Herr Ubermeisterleit, one of the Schwere Garde kaiserkriegern requested for some of your finest liquids.'' a young man, pointy ears, and covered in an armour made of the strongest of steel, yet perfected with the use of aquitium, on his chin were the words Armizch Conscripch engraved, seemingly burned into the flesh. A long silence was heard, in the visors of the bridge the landscape quickly flew past and mounds of snow were driven beyond field of vision. All men of the bridge were working in absolute silence and with one hand lying on the opposite shoulder, Ubermeisterleit Aisenhow was becoming exceedingly anxious about that little boy and what he spoke. Certainly, the Schwere Garde had exclusive access to all pieces of edibles and liquids onboard any military and civilian train, for free, but that didn't make him happy about it. With a slight irritation in his throat he spoke after a whiles silence. ''Bring them the Köninglich 1924.'' With a growing frown on his lips the pointy eared soldier knew it was time to report back to those who had sent him and report what he'd heard, and in the mean while Aisenhow was getting exceedingly angered by the overly prideful Schwere Garde, the elite warriors of High Command itself. ''How long until we can commence bombardierung?'' The journey had certainly been an exclusive and special event for Ubermeisterung Creutz Kleiner and his two personal guards, men of the Kreuzfahrer corps. They would seem quite alien as they stepped beyond the iron cage of a simple transport vessel on the docks of a port beknown as Brizen. He gazed at every nook and cranny and was far too surprised by the lack of any single piece of well equipped and maintained military vessel, whilst he had seen and heard the focus of the nation which he now moves in was in the skies, but to this extent? Even his own Vaterland had access to a fleet, even if it was small. But he had no time for such thoughts, he had a very strict schedule up until the meeting inside the confines of the capitol of this supposedly great Empire driven from the history of endless slavery, to think that such spirit would drive them into the literal heavens was far too surreal for Creutz to believe before and he would be hard to convince otherwise. Accompanied by the two armor clad men, armed with simple side arms for the regular matter of adjusting to the culture of another nation. ''Herr Ubermeisterung, a man is approaching you from the north-north-west, ...'' Spoke one of the guards, his voice distorted and contorted by the filtrationdevice of his helmet. ''No matter, he's our guide for this visit, or well, the initial one, or so my information states.'' Creutz quickly walked forwards, discipline in his paces and upon this action the two guards followed well in suit with equal discipline, their trained nature was clear the instance they'd be seen, even by the numerous civilians and children mixed amongst the people wandering the port, some sort of minor festivities and tents scattered about. Upon the greeting and meeting with his guide he was quickly taken to one of the famed flying machines of these Walküren, people of the heavens. Upon the travel there Creutz asked about the tents earlier and he had been informed that it was some sort of festivity, a celebration of their liberation from slavery and them taking their stand in the worlds play, Creutz could see some resemblance, his own coalition of nations, the Westhurst Union, was also once part of a greater nation, but they'd fought themselves to liberty from such fates. Approximately 4 days later, after countless minutes preparing and investigating information from both Westhurst and Arkilla in a small, yet luxorious tavern in the center of the port of Brizen, they were onboard E.M.S. Alkeria. Once more escorted by their guide, which had now become a daily occurence, mainly because of her insistance on them seeing what the nation has to offer in terms of culture, and other things of interest to the Union. Creutz had made sure to note all and everything of importance, walking ot the edge of town every day to see, in the distance, flying dots in the skies. It was a large contrast from his cold and nostalgic vaterland where even crows questioned whether they should fly in the sky or not. But now Creutz was onboard one such machine, a military aerovessel nontheless, it was aweinspiring. However his typical Westhurstian mind would not be swayed so easily and he quickly began to pick at any possible flawed idea and theory of the appearance and technicallity of the vessel. Being greeted with a military face was no surprise onboard such a fine vessel, it was clear instantly to both Creutz and his guards that this was no vessel of simple qualities. Once guided to a room by both the guide and the local guards, Creutz was finally able to greet a man of similar status. ''I am Herr Ubermeisterung Adolf Creutz Kleiner, however, I go by Creutz Kleiner.'' With a small yet rough smile Creutz continued as he glanced towards the guide. ''Whilst it's nice to have such a nice, feminine face showing us the way, I much prefer someone who knows the trouble of setting up supplylines.'' Creutz laughed, exchanging handshakes with the Major. After learning their destination for the visit he was inclind towards letting go to his habit of saying anything he might think badly about and as they flew towards the capitol Creutz would engage in deep and intellectual conversation with the Major, exchanging and sharing ideas and debating formations, everything along those lines. Not much happened after, except their departure from the airship and contact with the capitol which seemed very special. It gave the same feeling that the great cities of Westhurst gave him when he first arrived there, it was truly a sight to be behold, a wonder of the modern world. The moment he left the deck of the vessel and took his first step on solid ground for many hours he was met instantly by a wall of people, the festival which he had seen prepared a couple days later was now in full swing and it was more obvious here than anywhere else. Time would be lost for Creutz here in the capital because time seemed to never tick, everything remained the same no matter how many hours or minutes seemed to have passed, people were celebrating without any limitations. Before Creutz knew he was sitting at the front row amongst the brightest, greatest military minds of the Arkillian Empire, and he took witness to a speach made by the Chancellor of the nation. It was a very interesting sight to behold, much unlike the unifying taunts and rallyings of Westhurst this was a more calmer, more disorganized approach to it, but it still hold fruit. He was met with interestingly conflicting ideas upon the observation. Just before the speech had begone Creutz had found himself talking with a Walküren officer, quite bright and intellectual, how he'd come to that he was unsure, but one thing he was sure of was the rapidity of the happenings of this gathering was incredibly new to him. In the end he found himself in a room, a conference room, well lit and well clad with good seats and an information board ready to be used should the situation call for it. In front of him stood one man and one woman by their respective seats, both of military status, it was noticable on their uniforms, and another seat inbetween them which was most likely for the Chancellor. Upon his arrival all of them sat down, excluding the guards who stood at each side of Creutz at utmost alert, yet they stood with an uncertain ease. ''Thank you, I am Herr Ubermeisterung Adolf Creutz Kleiner, Kaisermann of the Wolfeguard-Hylche division, it is an utmost pleasure to meet such high esteemed military officers and pilots, I have heard much of your accomplishments.'' Creutz said, a surprisingly noticable smirk running across his lips. He leaned back slightly in his chair, however he still remained his disciplined demeanor, not even a single fault could be found in the sharpness of his uniform, even. The Iron, steel and Aquitium cross, the Heiberngaizer Kross, glossing against the sunlight which flies through the window. ''Quite the beautiful celebration you have, a well made, rallying, empowering speech Lady Chancellor.''

Irodein Empire- capital city Iro- Imperial palace Emperor Uldra paced back and forth in his throne room reading the telegram he just received from the Ereatian Empire earlier that day. When he received it he called for a meeting of the his high commanders. "My lord your generals have arrived," a servant reported to the emperor with a bow. The Emperor nodded in acknowledgement and walked past him to the council room. When he arrived at the room waiting for him were several lord commanders and the Governor- Militant Tybal. "I must thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Uldra said as he enter the room "I have received a telegram from the Ereatian Empire earlier today. They wish to invite members of several different nations to possibly form an anti-Syndicalist alliance. It would be in the best interest of the empire that a representative go to the meeting." the emperor said to the gather people. "I volunteer to travel to the meeting," Field Marshal Elva stood up when he said it. "Very well you will be transported on the newest battleship to the meeting. Now if any one has anything else to add the meeting is over." the Emperor said after a couple of minutes the he and his commanders left.

There was a brief moment, so powerful that it felt eternal, during which the whole Universe seemed to be holding its breath, waiting. There had to be something more, something grand and unforgettable that would give this war a satisfying end, that would ring down the curtain on the tragic past three years with an iconic image, or a sound that would become the motto of a generation. Perhaps a white flag being raised from atop the palace, or a final heroic shot destroying the last remnants of the old order, or joyous cheers surging from the masses below... In the end, though, there were only a few soft footsteps on the ash-and-blood-covered cobblestones, and muffled sobs coming from behind the last barricade. No one loudly proclaimed their victory; no one shouted their surrender. Tired eyes met, words were whispered, weapons were laid down among the ruins, and so it ended. Later, there was a kiss, pressed upon rosy lips with a tenderness that belied an underlying passion, one that threatened to consume the two lovers, amongst the overgrown grass and bushes of what had been a botanical garden. The broken glass of its walls and ceiling reflected the orange glow of dusk most beautifully, though the air remained cold. The woman shivered, her bare shoulders and arms covered in goosebumps, and deepened the kiss. She wanted... nay, needed to drown herself in it, so that the world beyond them would melt away. She did not feel victorious. Her insides were not warm with joy, and she felt no desire to shout in celebration. She had seen too many ruins and too many corpses on the streets, in what had once been wondrous cities teeming with life. But had her eyes lingered, she would have despaired, and apostles could not despair in front of those who needed faith to comfort them. So, she had pressed on, said what needed to be said, showed the emotions that needed to be shown, and kept everything else within her. A soft thumb caressed her cheekbone as their lips parted, and she smiled at the face before hers. It was a small smile, a fickle thing that managed to escape the present numbness and the looming grief. It vanished quickly, and her grey eyes hid beneath her eyelids. "Don't." Those smiling lips commanded, the sound of the voice soothing. "It's over. We are home, and it's almost tomorrow." There was another kiss, as fiery as the orange sky, and then life began anew. They were home, and tomorrow was just around the corner. A million cogs ticked and tocked the dawn away below, some loudlier than others, while another storm gathered above, ready to continue its endless siege upon the tower. The wheather had been mercilessly cold, wet and windy this season, and it showed no signs of improving anywhere in the near future. The Moonlands had always been warm and filled with light when he was a boy, as Félix recalled, but that had changed. It would have been a disquieting thought for most, but he had always loved the rains and the cool air of autumn as a child. He had never been happier than while dancing on puddles of water and mud, his wet golden hair sticking to his cheeks, so the idea of perpetual rain was a pleasant one. Today, the roar of thunder accompanied the first drops of cool water that fell on his face, and the sky turned a deep grey. The sea beyond the walls would reflect the darkness of the clouds and the rage of the wind, he knew, and both water and air would be deprived of ships to guard them for the rest of the day, if not the entire week. Still, he relished the sting of the water on his skin as he walked past the shops and manors of the old aristocracy. The city might have changed its name, but Venka continued to be their bastion. Some of the noblemen and tycoons had remained here, too stubborn to give up their opulent sanctuaries, and too craven to die fighting for the rest of their property, but you barely saw them in the streets by day. They were certainly there, either enjoying a life of leisure or waiting for the fall of the Commune, safe from the radicals below under the Basilica's protection. Félix was soaked to the skin long before he reached the imposing temple, the downpour unrelenting as the ticks and tocks continued. Ludovika would either laugh or scowl when she saw him; at least before offering him a kiss, a towel and a cup of tea. He would probably find her in her solar by the Basilica's eastern gardens, as always, having a modest breakfast while garbed in a modest dress, reading a little book of poetry sent to her by her most recent admirer, or looking at Adorján's latest artistic photographs on the back of the Verda Voĉo. Ludovika's apartment in the Basilica was, much like everything else about her, modest. Better than what many people on the lower levels had, but not ostentatious. Félix had criticised her residence of choice at first. He had wanted to live with Adorján and her in a cottage, far away from the smoke and the anarchists and the aristocrats. A fool's idea, that had been. Both Ludovika and Adorján were anarchists to the core, and loved their ideals more than they loved the prospect of a peaceful life with each other, or with him. He had lost Lázára in the wastelands, and in her place he had received a pious woman, too wise for her age, too altruistic for her own good, and most likely doomed. He entered without knocking, but was instantly received with a greeting as sweet and courteous as he had come to expect from the girl... nay, woman... that sat on an iron chair, a blue book and a plate with bread and cheese on the iron table before her, and the gardens to her right, their greens and browns and blues distorted by the water running down the window. The most famous missionary of the Celestial Ocean seemed as content as always, visibly satisfied with her life but never gloating about it. Her restraint hurt him the most. His half-sister kissed him on the lips when he approached, as always. It was a chaste gesture, which he had come to expect of her. In the mornings, she was a woman of the Celestial Ocean, devoted to anyone and everyone other than herself, temperate like the Moonlands of old. For anything else, Félix and Adorján would have to wait until dusk, when the tower no longer needed a prophet to approve of its motions, and even then she would be holding back. They shared some tea, then kissed again, then chatted. Just like the morning before, and the morning before that one, and every other morning for the past two years. It was pleasant, more pleasant than her morning prayers, which Félix carefully avoided. He loved her voice as much as the sounds of the storms raging outside, but he could not stomach the sound of her voice praising an imaginary entity, thanking it for deeds that were hers and hers alone, and begging it for guidance and aid that she could easily find in her fellow human beings. He loved her for her devotion, but also feared for her. As the tea grew cold between them, they spoke about their little world, and the changes that were looming on the horizon. The New Alchemists' Guild wanted to develop a new chemical weapon. The air defense squadrons wanted to build more airships. Maraĵa wanted to build more submarines. The Sons of the Moon wanted to build a great wall around the tower, filled to the brim with heavy artillery. They were all constantly hearing whispers about invasions and conspiracies, but had not faced a single foe since the end of the civil war. They were growing anxious, and wanted material things to cling onto and comfort them, and to keep them active. Many of them did not share Ludovika's unwavering faith in the Celestial Ocean, nor were as optimistic about the Commune's future as the activists and intellectuals of the upper levels. Many doubted, just as Félix did. When the clocks of the tower all struck nine, the two children of Boldizsár Zamenhof left the solar, the Basilica, and Venka. The lower levels awaited their spiritual leader, and wherever she went, Félix would go as well. The journey to Mirinda took three hours by elevator, and it took another half hour in a car provided and guarded by the Sons of the Moon for them to reach their destination: a dark, downtrodden corner of the city's old industrial district, that the sunlight barely reached. In the heavy rain, it looked like a crumbling castle, the likes of which Félix had seen in their exile. Hundreds of people had gathered on the streets, huddled together under umbrellas and half-burnt roofs. Félix saw a handful of photographers at the front, but no sign of Adorján, with his yellow eyes, brown hair and soothing smile. It struck a cord in Félix, and most likely in Ludovika as well, but it was hardly unexpected. Adorján had left the tower the week before to take photographs of the cottages that were being built in the countryside, far away from the rust and smoke. Or, at least, so he had claimed. Thus far, they had received no news from him. The orphanage they were visiting had been a textile factory before the war. In the midst of it all, some faction had decided to bombard it until it collapsed, and left behind a ruin covered in ash and soot, the smell of burnt fabric lingering to this day. Rooms had been built in between the burnt pillars and piles of bricks, with wood and iron beams from neighbouring ruins, to house the children. An ugly sight, Félix thought, for an ugly reality. There had already been many orphanages in the tower before the war, but there had not been that many orphans back then. This one was blatantly overpopulated, thanks to far too many textile workers thinking that they could defeat the military with only their tools, and it would probably stay that way. There was no shortage of people who wanted to adopt orphans from the war, but few were interested in children from this district. Even in the classless, moneyless Esperi, there were undesirables. These children had lived through the war by eating rats, cats and the occasional human corpse. Many had killed, most were illiterate, and some had been so malnourished that the odds were stacked against them no matter what they did. Broken children attracted very few, and many of those they attracted were not interested in raising them. The end of the ancient regime had not removed all evil in the tower. There was clapping when his sister climbed down from the car, and the flashes of cameras blinded them. Beyond the light and the cacophony, however, Félix saw the filthy rags, the ribs poking through sickly skin, and the scars from a dozen diseases. These people had good reason to so joyous for Ludovika's soothing presence. The underlying desperation was unmistakable. Ludovika drove the crowd to silence as she spoke. She promised to listen to their requests, led them in prayer, and recited a beautiful poem about the beauty of the rain. It was an inspired speech, spoken with wisdom and warmth, but ultimately empty, at least for Félix. All her speeches had been empty and pointless since the end of the war. All those present knew what she stood for, and there was no direction for her to lead them to. There were no battles to fight, no grand ideals to be advocated for. The revolution had succeeded, and all its principles now ruled the tower. Still, the poem had been beautiful to hear, and for that Félix was grateful. Clapping filled the air again, and continued as she walked among them, towards the orphanage, Félix staying close behind her with a spokesperson from the Sons of the Moon. The spokesperson was a man who had clearly been a soldier of the principality before the war, with his hair cut short and his posture as straight as an iron beam. His manner of speak was cool and methodical, clearly better suited for private tidings than public speeches. "We Sons of the Moon are concerned about recent events beyond the Moonlands. We wonder if, perhaps, our beloved Ludovika could provide us with her insight on these matters." The spokesperson said, not turning to look at Félix. "She will most likely tell you that what happens beyond our little world is the Celestial Ocean's concern, not ours." Félix answered without looking either. "If you want to hear my own opinion, I say that the Sons of the Moon should take it upon themselves to have agents abroad, agents that would report the latest happenings to me and our beloved Ludovika." There was a pause, and Ludovika entered the orphanage before them as they two men stood on the threshold. "We will discuss it." The spokesperson nodded. "Good. Now, keep your eyes on my sister. I don't trust this crowd, and it only takes one bullet." The children were all beautiful in her eyes, specially the ones who had been scarred the most by the war. And they were loud, full of life, and curious about this young woman whose picture they had seen on papers. Two of them held her hands as they guided her to the center of this sanctuary, their own fingers filthy, their nails cracked, but she did not mind. Her hands had been the same at some point. They all sat in a circle, a girl no older than three sitting on her lap, eagerly telling her about their toys and games. Most toys were made out of small pieces of debris, and most games involved the larger pieces. The other children talked about the good volunteers and the bad volunteers. Some begged her for the Celestial Ocean's blessing, which she gladly gave them. Some recited her their prayers, most of which involved their lost parents and siblings, and she joined them. Some said nothing, and did nothing more than stare, listen, and hold her close when she hugged them. Those, she spent the most time with when the circle broke. They would not speak about the years of the war, but their bodies and faces told her enough. They were small, and they trembled, and became irritated or afraid easily. Her war, had broken them. The volunteers said they only needed more food, toys and clothing, and maybe books as well. They did not ask her to seek parents for the children, but she promised to do it all the same. When a boy of seven asked her to be his mother, though, she made no promises. She made excuses, albeit ones that filled him with hope. She did not tell him she was afraid of the idea of raising a child with Félix and Adorján. That was not something she was willing to admit to anybody, let alone an innocent child. One child, a girl nearing her teenage years, came to her as Ludovika was about to leave, having said her goodbyes to all the children while barely containing tears. She had hair as golden as hers, and her green eyes were filled with emotions, foremost amongst them hate. "Esperantists killed my mother for feeding the Prince's soldiers. They called her a whore and hung her body from my bedroom window. The missionaries didn't do anything." She spewed coldly, her face expressionless as she stood before Ludovika. "I hate you, and I hope you die." A part of Ludovika almost said something, but before she knew what that something was, it was gone, and she was speechless. The girl was gone now, and her brother was waiting outside. Swans had returned to the lake near the old cottage, and there were fish swimming beneath the silvery surface. The dark clouds reflected on the water, but the rain had yet to come. Adorján could barely see the tower beyond the bare trees, distant in rain. Fog was most likely covering the villages around it. A lovely sight, to be sure, but the air was too cold for the photographer's comfort. Still, he took his last pictures with relish and care, even as his fingers became numb. He photographed the swans, the fish, the cottage, the airships that passed by, and the tanks and trucks that were parked outside the cottage, his grip sure and his aim true. Some of the photographs would please his lovers and editors, although some he would keep to himself. Namely, the tanks and trucks. "It may be a long while before my brothers and sisters reach the Black Moonland, and if the rest encounter occupiers from Irodein in the Green Moonland, we will have to tread carefully... Still, it needs to be done. The Moonlands should be safe from foreign occupation." The spokesperson from the Brava Squadron was a friendly and reliable man, but he was not an anarchist, however, and that had the potential become a problem. He was more enamored with the memory of the Moonlands than with the idea of the Commune. Granted, it was an understandable sentiment, given how the Brava Squadron spent most of the time watching over the ruins of their ancestors. Still, it worried Adorján that the rest of the Brava and Fiera Squadrons might be like this, specially when they were going on an expedition to recolonize parts of the Moonlands beyond the wastelands and build a defensive line near the borders of the Irodein Empire. Adorján had not decided to join the eastern part of the expedition as soon as he had heard of it, but it had not taken much to convince him once he had reached the cottage where hundreds of members of the Brava and Fiera Squadrons had gathered to prepare. If Ludovika and Félix knew about this expedition, Adorján never heard of it, but he would send them telegrams before they parted, and try to keep sending them as they moved forward. He had waited for an opportunity to see the world beyond the tower and the wasteland for a long time, after his return to Esperi. As much as he loved Félix and Ludovika, the little world of brass and steam did not feel like home any longer, and as proud as he was of having helped in the creation of the Commune, he did not feel a part of it. The world was moving forward, ticking and tocking its way through dawns and dusks, and the Commune seemed to still be holding its breath, keeping to itself, unwilling to risk any more than what it had already lost.

''Thank you, I am Herr Ubermeisterung Adolf Creutz Kleiner, Kaisermann of the Wolfeguard-Hylche division, it is an utmost pleasure to meet such high esteemed military officers and pilots, I have heard much of your accomplishments.'' Creutz said, a surprisingly noticeable smirk running across his lips. He leaned back slightly in his chair, however he still remained his disciplined demeanor, not even a single fault could be found in the sharpness of his uniform, even. The Iron, steel and Aquitium cross, the Heiberngaizer Kross, glossing against the sunlight which flies through the window. ''Quite the beautiful celebration you have, a well made, rallying, empowering speech Lady Chancellor.'' "Thank you Mr. Kleiner, we always try to make each year's celebration more spectacular than the one before. Not an easy task to say the least. Now then! Down to business." Helena opened a file containing some documents and motioned to then. "Your nation has expressed interest in our sale of airships, but according to this, you are particularly interested in watching how a modern airborne infantry unit operates, yes?" she then nodded to the HandelWind Kommandant, Walt Hoffmesser. "During this year's celebration, we are having various mock battles and... military exercises around the country. nearby we have a distinguished airborne unit 75th Airborne Division or better known as the "Bastards of Barkove" preparing for a some training exercises at Fort Markzer. Tomorrow you and your security detail will meet with their commander and he'll take you through some of the tips and tricks of having such a force." he then motioned to Katherine across the table. "However, Major Avonsta here will be showing you how literal airborne infantry can be an effective resource on the battlefield." Katherine nodded to Kleiner. Her face was covered in various small scars and one of her eyes was slightly discolored, most likely the result of dodging flak blasts and surviving many crash landings in her years. "Yes sir, the Empire has proven that highly nimble airborne units can be quite effective when dealing with an overwhelming enemy air force. As it is so common during this age, nations will usually just mass produce one or two types of aircraft and send massive waves of them to fight. If you have a specialized force with superb equipment, the ratio will dramatically flip as I'm sure you understand." She motioned to the large windows that covered the west facing side of the room. Outside the confetti had settled, but the air was still filled with the 1st Fleet, particularly the Fortress Class. "Having big, highly mobile artillery is a huge advantage on the battlefield, but they are very vulnerable if you know where to hit em. Having a skilled light flying unit can make a world of difference."

Present day, Field 5 miles south of Colongo City The sun was high above the grassy field, not far from reaching the crest of it's long journy across the sky. The Tsar was leaned against the side of a hornet Gyrokopter, three more were in a row besides the one Voltus was commandeering. He had sent telegrams for the leaders to meet him in that field and had arranged for hornets to ferry them up to overwatch, as the ship would descend and compromise it's security. Looking down at his watch occasionally to see if any of the guests would be coming, he hoped it would be enough hornets, he was expecting four delegates excluding himself, so it would be one hornet per person, as the hornets only had a two person maximum. The other pilots were inspecting their Gyrokopters and making sure they were looking good for their guests of honor, they also checked their weapons systems, wanting to be able to retaliate against an attack as soon as it was launched against them, though on a day like this, with security high in Colongo City for this occasion, he doubted anything would happen. The Tsar was in deep thought, the death of the fire team leaf by the young Optio was weighing heavy on his mind, and after a raid on the sugar Cain farm where the weapons were being stashed he had lost 4 more troops. However the raid wasn't fruitless, it had taken out 28 insergants and captured an arsenal of weapons that were heading to Colongo City. Pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket he read the stock of captured weapons to himself. '600 rifles, 550 submachineguns, 1500 pistols and 120 machine-guns.' not to mention a stockpile of ammunition but somehow Vomtus felt that there was more where that came from.

The clanks of the steel clashing against the railway is powerful, almost deafening for those who stood beyond the safe confines of the Equitium armor, no one man could seemingly stand against its might. Suddenly, the ground quaked, the sky soared and the sound of immesurable power, deafening thunder, divine righteousness echoed the heavens, fifty kilometers in every direction it would still roar dominant. The cannons of the Eisen Mammoth roared, and some twenty kilometers to the west rolled the Eisen Blitz II. Treacherous silence then emerged, an uneasy silence of fear and despair. Sudden like the thunder crashing down towards the earth from the heavens, many times interprented as the punishment from the Gods, the shells of hellish power crashed down upon a small village and everywhere in the surrounding vicinity. An entire village was reduced to ash within the duration of a couple minutes, festivals in approval to their disagreement to the ways of the union. People cheering and rallying on the streets. Even a couple being married in the local church. All of these things were reduced to ash within an instant. All which once was is now turned to ash, red ash, colored by the peoples blood, and their unwanted beliefs. Many kilometers away, inside the confines of the Eisen Blitz II, stood its commander, drinking a casual piece of coffee to the sound of classic, majestic, and classic Strauz composition, fourth verse. The train was on its way to the closest section, then it would unbark its troops and the grounds would be searched. No one would be allowed to spread unwanted conspiracies. Cheers, laughter, and joy. No one would be happier than the people of Helingrad. They finally took their resolve against the Men of Iron and their hellish methods. Finally they had taken a stand. No longer would they follow along the ways of the military, no longer would they have to stay silent and give all they had just so that they may survive! Claura Claud is one of the celebrators. Daughter of Hubert Claud, the event organizer, Claura was a very priviliged girl, she had access to the finest education and was even accepted into the Königliche Akademie der Westhurst, and was quite a promising student, however she had forsaken all her future for the simple freedom of her hometown. She had experienced the military of Westhurst first hand and no matter how brutal, and efficient they were, their lack of humanity, no human would be able to simply dissolve this gathering through brutal means. 'No matter who you are, it is simply not something a human would be able to do', she believed. ''Ha! Ha! Claura! We're finally free!'' A man shouted, in his hand was a cup of some fine, homemade bear. ''May Hubert live forever! Ha!'' A woman screamed. ''Hubert! Hubert! Hubert!'' The chanting, the cheering, and the joy could just not stop, an unending feeling of freedom echoed the village. For minutes on end, for hours untold, there was cheering and festivities until the night fall and 'til the dawn's rise. Endless joys spreading the village, all unknowing of the terror which lies ahead of them. Soaring in the skies, suddenly thunder broke out. ''I didn't think I'd have to say it, and even less that I'd have to say it again! We will never ally the Irodein Empire!'' The voice echoed the large halls of the Strategic Supreme Command of Military and Diplomatic Affairs. Albert Midledurf roared, recieving the attention of all men of rank inside the hall of absolute command. ''Sir Uberadmiral, this alliance would grant us a united front against possible invaders, we could use these people to expand our influence as well-'' Ubermeisterlyt Greiz Flux tried to persuade Albert, however the Supreme Admiral of the Fleet Albert Midledurfs' hate for the Irodeins was unpresidented, he could not let down the past which had once been. For once, Krux Wilheilm Milze, Supreme General of the Army stood in agreement to the traditionalistic natures of the Westhurst Union. ''We have never been on good terms with the Irodein Empire, that which had once been has since passed, but it will never disappear. As the Supreme General I can't simply let my troops, the great Iron Men of the North, come to the aid of the Irodein Empire. If the other memebers seek our aid, then they will contact us.'' Greiz Flux sighed, sat down and admitted defeat against the incredibly unforgiving nature of the rest of the Union High Command. ''Then I conclude this gathering over, our resolves are set in stone, we will not contribute to this alliance.'' All the remaining men stood up from their seats in agreement. ''To your posts, gentlemen. Long live Westhurst.'' Creutz remained silent, listening in to the pride of their empire. Personally Creutz was very skeptical of the idea that utilizing flying fortresses they'd be able to overpower their enemies, after all, something that falls will be destroyed, there is no other way. Albert Midledurf was, however, quite interested in the idea. ''I am here to investigate and observe in the place of Albert Midledurf, the Supreme Admiral, I'm sure we both understand that he is quite busy, so I am here to do his work.'' Creutz grinned slightly. ''I, myself, am not quite fond of the idea, so I am partly here to let you enlighten me in the way of your arts.'' Creutz was on the opposing side to Albert when the proposition of Sturmsoldaten were made, Albert believed that this visit would change his, and most other Ubermeisters of the Unions' opinions. ''No matter, it will always be interesting to observe the training and excercises of other nations' military, I am honored for this moment, Major Avonsta.'' He spoke, a smile making its way across his lips. He followed her words and directions, to observe the hulking machination somehow suspended in the heavens, whilst it was impressive, Creutx was skeptical to its practicality, how easy was it to sink? Only the greatest was fit for the Union. ''Well, Major, I am in your care. Guide me to your hearts content and show me the world of the heavens you are so fond of, and maybe I can show you why I am so fond of the ground.''

Six months ago Zhoa hurled herself over the wire fence. The pebbled under her feet shifted with an audible crunch. She raced forward, slamming her shoulder into the door ahead of her. It gave with a loud *bang* and she was in. Down the hall, turn left, *ratatatatat* She swept her SMG in a wide arc as the bewildered Irodians tried to move or sit up in their beds. She missed one; he tried to duck behind the bed but caught another salvo in the temple. Six occupiers dead, the walls and sheets stained with blood. No time to stop, he turned and dashed forward. Around the corner was another Irodian; he went down with a tight burst to the stomach. Down the hall, sweep the rooms. One room, two rooms. Her hair stuck to the side of her face, sweat saturated her uniform. No time to stop. Keep going, kill as many as possible before they reacted. The next door was locked. She riddled it with fire then kicked it open. The room on the other side was small, barely bigger than a closet. A radio set was purched on the heavy wooden desk, now shattered by bullets and stained with blood. The operator lay face-down on the table bleeding from half a dozen bullet wounds. The next door lead outside again. Three Irodian tanks sat in a row with no one to drive them – she had just killed the operators. The bitter clip of gunfire and the cries of men and women were all around her now. Zhoa ejected the magazine from her SMG and reached for a new one. She stumbled and dropped the clip as the earth shook. A deafening roar sent her ears whining for a moment. A magazine must have gone up - yes, there was a billowing cloud of black smoke barely two blocks away. A squad of revolutionaries ran by. Zhoa joined them. Some Irodians were trying to blockade the street, hiding behind a delivery truck. She laid down covering fire from behind a piece of debris while one of the others threw a grenade. The streets were full of bodies, the smell of blood and gunpowder in the air. The squad slowed to a stop. She wondered why, briefly. Shouldn’t they be moving? “Up there.” One of the others pointed. The imperial palace was unmistakable. It was a magnificent building adorned with vibrant colors and art, a testament to ancient Xulao architecture still standing amid the concrete-filled city of Irodian design. Several tanks painted green and yellow – revolutionary colors – were parked in front of it. A flag with the crest of the Cyzin was flying from the highest stories, visible across the entire city. Xingyi belonged to the Cyzin once again. Two Weeks Ago Fen Zhoa’s face as she suppressed the frantic itchiness of her new uniform. It wasn’t just new, it was fresh out of a sweatshop, the starchy stiffness and fresh creases still rubbing against her newly washed skin. Zhoa didn’t think she’d ever been this clean in her life. The grime of war and combat was washed away, replaced by a trim uniform, a jade hair decoration and a medal she couldn’t remember earning, but which her superiors had made very clear she was to wear to the ceremony. Her entire unit stood side by side, one of many that now filled the palace courtyard in neat, uniformed rows. Somewhere a drum beat started. Many great drums began to beat in unison. Then the sound of flutes joined in with fast, haunting trills, totally unlike the music of the foreigners. The great, bronze gates at the entrance to the palace plaza opened. The doors moaned as if the moulded dragon relief upon the doors were alive, creaking open to permit the Empress procession. First came the drummers themselves; tall, strong men carrying great drums that they beat themselves. Behind them came the flutists with silver instruments. Then there were dancers in the old style, waving beautiful cloth around as they spun. Then, finally, there was the royal palanquin. The Empress could barely be seen within it, but the ornate wood was beautifully carved and gilded with gold. It took twelve strong men to carry the thing – Zhoa had heard it was armored. Following around it were the royal guard and the Empress’ handmaidens, dressed in elaborate dresses of fine silk dyed in green and yellow. Lastly were the new ministers of the court. Zhoa recognized most of them; she had fought under both Zhan Arika and Lon Fen. There probably wasn’t a person there who didn’t recognize the leaders of the revolution. Music playing and dancers dancing, the procession reached the stairs of the palace. The palanquin turned and stopped at the foot of the steps. The drumming ceased. Out stepped the last remaining Cyzin on the planet, heir to a dynasty spanning centuries, the pride and joy of an entire nation. The little girl was clothed in royal robes of gold, green and red, adorned in jewels any one of which would have made a thief rich. With poise astonishing for one so young she exited the carriage and ascended, followed only by Lon Fen. The girl knelt before the altar at the top of the steps. Lon Fen stepped past her, praying in his whispy voice to Zhao Cek, god of order, as he lit candles at the altar where the jade statue of a great dragon stood. Before it was a golden crown. “Great Zhao Cek, today we coronate your heir. By your design the Cyzin were sent to bring order to your realm, you granted them the eyes of spirit and the crown of order. That agreement was broken by idolaters who cared not for your sacred plan. Today, we restore our bond!” He stepped back and clapped his hands, bowing again to the god. The empress stood. She stepped forward and seized the crown in both hands. “I am Cyzin, as my mother before me and her mother before her. With the blessing of my ancestors I take the throne.” She placed the crown upon her head and turned. “Behold Cyzin Ao!” Lon Fen declared. “Voice of Zhao Cek! Head of the House of Cyzin! And Empress of Xulao!” Then, without prompting or instruction, the entire courtyard kowtowed. Zhoa fell to her knees and touched her head to the hard stone in front of her, as her ancestors had done for centuries before the Cyzin, and as her children would do in their time. As she lifted her head she could hear the Empress speak. “Seventy years ago my family was slaughtered and the Irodeins took control of our lands. They rejected our gods and traditions and tried to force us to accept their own, selfish ways. They plundered our homeland, interested only in taking what they could. "But I am here to tell you that just as the Irodeins could not destroy the Cyzin, they could not break Xulao. We have stood by our traditions and fought for our land. When the conquerors thought us broken we persevered. When they thought us defeated we made them pay in blood. People of Xulao, we have won. "The House of Cyzin is restored; the foreigners are defeated. Never again will we allow another to supplant our traditions in favor of our own. We have regained our land, our pride, and now our place within the world. We are no longer a colony of Irodia, we are the Federation of Xulao!” Present The Hall of Supreme Wisdom, as it was called, had once been the meeting hall for the Cyzin and their advisors. The Cyzin throne here was a miniature version of the enormous stone one that sat in the audience chamber. At one time the Cyzin would have sat in the throne while the retainers knelt on the floor, speaking up to their sovereign. Now a triangular wooden table had been installed and the Empress sat above it, immaculate in posture but somewhat removed from the conversation that was happening below. “Right. I’ve called you all here because, as Ms. Cerzak is so very fond of reminding me, we have a money problem.” “Ignoring it isn’t going to make it go away, I was just…” “I get it.” Zhan Arika snapped at the younger woman. “You’re right, Xingyi’s port doesn’t have the capacity to export all our rice, even if we had buyers for it. And now that the civil war in Irodia is over taking the other port cities is going to be so very much harder.” “You already have a plan, madame Zhan, or you wouldn’t have called us here.” Lon Fen said. “Out with it.” “Right. We need allies badly. If our independence is going to stick we need international recognition and someone to keep the Irodein navy off our back when we move for the rest of Xulao.” “We also need foreign capital if we’re going to follow your ten-year plan for developing our own civil industry.” “That too, thank you Cerzak.” “And who do you have in mind?” Zhan Arika tapped her fingers along the table. She was a powerful, strongly built woman in stature as well as will. The others could see her brow furrow as she considered. She glanced up at the Empress, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Fen, I want you to send that girl of yours to the NFRU. Have her see what she can squeeze out of them. We want official recognition as a state, military aid, industrial capital, open markets, and if we’re really lucky an alliance against Irodia.” “Czinya? She’s one of the empress’ handmaidens now, not ‘mine’.” “That means she’s officially one of the Empress’ representatives. Tell her she can offer them raw resources, investment opportunities, and perhaps a port for their ships. And see if she can’t send out a few feelers about a betrothal to one of the old monarchies up there.” “A betrothal? The Empress is twelve, isn’t this a bit early?” One of the lower generals asked, with some incredulity. “I don’t mind.” The small voice caught the councilors off guard. The general made a hasty apology as they all bowed towards the throne. “No.” Lon Fen replied afterward. “Her Blessed Highness understands the precariousness of her line. We need a Cyzin heir as soon as possible. By ancient tradition the age of majority is 15, and I believe it would be best if she were married as soon after that as possible.” The general grumbled something about a “hard sell” to the other nations, but withered under Zhan Arika’s glare. “Now that that tangent is done.” She moved right on. “I want you to go to Oussia and Ventium. Aside from the NFRU they’re the most likely to aid us. We’ll fish around for the best offers and see what comes up.” “I’ll pack my bags.” Lon Fen said, not without a hint of sarcasm. Six days later Lon Fen was riding north to Oussia. It would be a long, difficult trip overland, but he knew the back roads and temples along the way. A letter of introduction had been sent ahead by ship. His former apprentice Czinya would travel to the NFRU on the Federation’s only warship – a captured Irodein vessel that had been in port when they took the city.

Present Day (2 days ago?), Overwatch. Voltus was sat in the meeting room, looking through some documents when a young airman knocked on the door and proceeded to enter. "Pardon my intrusion Your Majesty, but the new charts have been drawn up and the cartographers would like to enquire if they are to your liking." Voltus raised an eyebrow, pushing his papers a side, he ushered for the airman to come closer and over the rolled up chart, taking it from his gloved hand, the Tsar unrolled it and looked through it. The scale looked suitable, the paper seemed it was hardy and the ink was easily visible, however he furrowed his brows when he saw something new to him, "This wasn't in the old charts," he said pointing at the map, "that's part of Irodia." the airman leaned in and gave the same confused look. "well we have been locked away for a very long time, send for more information on this Cyzin Federation."  The soldier had returned with a pile of paper and put it on the conference table, leaving the Tsar to his studying he left the room. Sighing Voltus began with the first paper, "here we go." he muttered. Telegram to The Cyzin Federation of Xuloa. To Her Exalted Empress Ao Cyzan,  I humbly send you this message, your highness, on behalf of myself and the Ventian people and wish to extended the hand of friendship,  in the hopes that it will yield a long fruitful relationship between our two nations.  Recently I have read of your struggles and tribulations, and have seen in your nation a young Ventium, a fledgling nation teetering on the edge and I cannot stand by and watch another nation topple. I believe that it is in Ventium's interests to support our monarchist brothers and sisters in their time of need and to protect them from forces that would otherwise like to see them come to harm. So we the people of the Tsardom and I, their Tsar would like to humbly extend our support to your nation. Yours, H.I.M., S.C. Tsar Voltus Ventus [enclosed along with the telegram] The offer of the Ventian government. - Direct investment into infrastructure: •Construction and repair of roads. •Construction and repair of bridges. •Construstion of tidal power plants. •Errection of power pylons. •Construction of electrical sub-stations. •Construction of transnational rail lines. •Construction of hydro-electric dams. •Re-building of sewage and plumbing systems. •Constriction of water treatment plants and storage lakes. - Economic Subsudies: •Decreased prices for Ventium goods. •Removal of trade tariffs. •Fairer prices for your goods. •We will Pay back any loans you may have. •Subsudize Treasury. -Investments into Health and Education: •Construction, Staffing and training of clinics, hospitals and first aid centers. •As above but with preschools, primary schools, secondary schools, collages, universities, apprenticeship. •Inviting Cyzin Students to come to university in Ventium under scholarships. -Rearming and Retraining the army: •Supply the army with arms and ammunition. •Give the nation capabilities to produce arms and ammunition. •Donation of 330 pieces of artillery. •12 ships of both Ventian classes. •Supplying of Ventian military consultants. •Retraining armed forces for modern warfare. •Donation if 200 aircraft. -Creation of sustainable Industries and job growth: •More farms. •More mines. •More artisans and craftsmen. •More factories. •Repair and rebuild all of the above mentioned. •Train and prepare population for the above mentioned. -Cultural and Social furtherment:  •Building of Theatres, Cinemas and Libraries. •Building of radio pylons and set up of a broadcasting service.  •Building of temples and any other religious buildings required. -Political Position:  •Promote The Cyzin Federation of Xuloa's cause to gain international recognition as a sovereign state. •Help stabalise relationship with the Irodian Empire. What Ventium requires: - For The Federation to be a firm ally to Ventium. -For us to have a military alliance. -For Ventium to have priorty when it comes to trade. -Once the Empress is of age a royal marriage. -When Cyzin is capable, full repayment or repayment in installments.

Alleghany capital, Office of president N'Athaniel Adamns - Three weeks ago Johnny DeWane, leader of the Usonian liberation front had been waiting for almost two weeks for an audience with an Alleghany government official since the Colongo riots. Ever since that eventful day his mission was to get the support of the Federated States of Alleghany for his struggle for Usonian independence. "Thank you for meeting with me president Adamns. I am glad you found the time to meet up with one of your brother Usonians. I assume you are aware of what happened two weeks ago in Colongo and how the Ereatians oppressed peaceful demonstrators with extreme violence. Thousands have perished by Ereatian gun fire. I urge you to take a stand against such oppression against your brothers." President Adamns thought deeply about the subject. It was true that the Ereatian response to the riots was disproportionate and that was deeply concerning. "We of the Alleghany government are deeply struc by the tragic fate of our brothers on the other side of the border. We will do what is in our power to apply diplomatic and economic pressure on the Ereatians but we do not believe that this matter can be settled through Alleghany's involvement in an armed conflict, mister DeWane." Johnny DeWane smilled. This was exactly the answer he expected. "I already anticipated on your reluctantness to move without any good incentive. As we speak the UCF is trying to get support from the Revolutionary Syndicalist International, an organization that will jump on any bandwagon to spread their revolution. You and I both know that a Syndicalist neighbor will destabilize Alleghany's internally as your workers class are presented with an alternative up close. You might risk revolts in Alleghany if you allow the UCF to win in Colongo. We from the Usonian Liberation Front offer an alternative that would be very friendly towards Alleghany and its free market economy. We simply look for liberation from the Ereatians and not the elevation of the workers class." N'Athaniel Adamns looked annoyed at the Usonian in front of him. "You'll have to do better than scare us with syndicalist revolution mister DeWane. I will make you a counter offer. Alleghany will supply the ULF with the means to take control of Usonia. In return, Usonia will join the Federation of Alleghany as one of its member states." The leader of the Usonian Liberation Front reached out and shook the presidents hand. "We have a deal mister president" Over the course of three weeks secret training camps where build in Alleghany near the border with Colongo and ULF fighters started to receive training and weapons from Alleghany. Colongo, bordertown of Ulan near the border with Alleghany - Day of the meeting Ulan is one of the cities at the border with Alleghany and offers an important border crossing between the Federated states of Alleghany and the Ereatian Empire's colony of Colongo. Usually around 15.000 Ereatian soldiers and security forces are station in or near the city of 150.000 souls but today many of the soldiers had been transferred to the capital in order to provide security for the meeting between representatives of the Empire of Ereatia, the Tsardom of Ventium, The Malassakian Republic, The Irodian Empire and maybe even the Westhurst Union. With all eyes focussed on this meeting and the treat of Syndicalist involvement in Colongo, this was the perfect moment for the ULF to launch an armed rebellion. It was early in the morning as a messenger entered the room where all leaders of the ULF had gathered to coordinate the rise of the Usonians. The messenger walked straight up to Johnny DeWane and spoke. "All our forces are in position and are ready to commence operation Dawn of Victory, Johnny." Johnny DeWane nodded. "Good. We'll siege control of Ulan today. Commence operation Dawn of Victory. Death to Ereatia!" Jesper Stormcloud looked at the large lighted clock tower near the city center. When the lights would go out to early it would mean a go and Jespers squad would storm the Ereatian military command and communications center. Normally 1.500 Ereatian soldiers would be stationed inside but intelligence showed that that number has dropped with at least 2/3's today. Considering it was mostly office jobs Jespers unit of 100 men would have no problems taking control of the building. Especially when you take into consideration that 30 men where in fact Alleghany special forces that happened to be on vacation in the region. The clocktowers lights faded and Jesper gave the order. 100 well armed Usonians blew up the gate and stormed the building from three different sides. At the same time all police stations and most of the military checkpoints in the city where stormed. As Jesper entered the building he spotted two Ereatian soldiers. The Usonian's finger squeezed around the trigger and his submachine gun roared as bullets left the barrel. The Ereatians screamed in agony as the lead pierced their bodies before falling down to the ground. As Jesper made his way down the corridor and into the next room any doubt of not being able to secure the building flowed from his mind. It would only be a matter of time before the Usonian flag would fly over Ulon. The first liberated city. Colongo - Field 5 miles out of Colongo city A convoy of military vehicles drove down the road towards the majestic airship in the distance. In between two armored halftracks a luxurious car was carrying Prime Minister Wilde, Minister of the Army General Roger McRagear and the newly appointed governor of Colongo, General Stevenson. All three men were headed towards the meeting there they would discuss the possibility of an alliance with the representatives of Ventium, The Irodian Empire, The Malassakian Republic and hopefully also the Westhurst Union would join the talks. Prime minister Wilde hoped he could convince these nations to overcome their fundamental differences and work together against a common threat known as the Revolutionary Syndicalist International. The Ereatian Empire had already good relations with the Malassakian Republic and also a formal alliance with the Tsardom of Ventium. The prime minister had good hopes that he could expand the alliance even further. As the convoy came to a halt the three men left the car. "Look at that airship. It is even more massive then I thought" Commented Roger McRaear as he closely observed the Ventian airship known as Overwatch. "Maybe we should order some of those for our military prime minister Wilde" Continued the minster of the army who could not hide his adoration of the giant airship. As the Ereatian delegation approached Tsar Voltus Ventus an Ereatian officer rushed towards General Steverson, the new governor of Colongo. "General governor, Sir" Started the young officer as he angtiously saluted. "There has been news of heavy fighting in the city of Ulan at the border with Alleghany, sir. We don't have much information as we've lost contact with most military and police checkpoints and facilities. At the moment we're unsure of what the situation is or who these rebels are. The number of casualties is unclear but it could be in the hundreds. What are your orders, sir?" Both prime minister Wilde and his minister of the army looked surprised at the news but the governor remained deadly calm. General Stevenson was a seasoned veteran of the Ereatian army and was carefully selected for this post. Ereatia needed a man who could act with caution and determination at the same time and General Stevenson seemed to be just that man. "Lieutenant, relay the following orders to the 3th armored division and 32th mechanized division. They must advance towards the outskirts of Ulan immediately and surround the city. Seal it off from the rest of Colongo. Recon units must enter the city in order to investigate the situation. Also make sure to get into contact with the rebel leaders so that we can start negotiations. Civilian casualties must be avoided at all cost. For now" After issuing the commands govenor Stevenson turned towards Both the prime minister and the Tsar of Ventium. "I have to excuse myself as it seems that a situation has arose that urgently needs my attention. It is a shame I will not be able to attend the meeting and get personally introduced to the Tsar. My apologies. Lieutenant, please keep the prime minister informed of the situation" Governor General Stevenson turned around and boarded one of the jeeps. Prime minister Wilde approached the Tsar and reached out his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, your Excellency. I would like to personally thank you for your hospitality and your support in these difficult times."

Office of the RSI Spokesperson, People Proletarian University, Brouges Gerald Veron though deeply about the subject. Going to war means that people will lose their lives. What good is freedom when not everyone could enjoy it? Being a country is not about borders, resources or cities. What truly matters is those who live in it. "We'll be needing small arms such as rifles, hand grenades, explosives and man portable anti tank weapons. Weapons that are easy hidden and transported. Also light anti-aircraft weapons will be a necessity. Furthermore we'll be needing trainers who can teach us how to handle the weaponry." Gerald Veron grabbed a piece of paper and started to write down some numbers. 25.000 rifles 15.000 submachine guns 40.000 pistols 1.000 mortars 5.000 anti-tank rifles/rockets 4.000 machineguns 2.000 light anti-aircraft weapons "Can you supply these weapons next month? They can be smuggled across the border with Alleghany or through the port of Colongo City. I would also like to present the Usonian case to the revolutionary workers congress."

"Brouges has plenty of weapons stores waiting for export. The Revolutionary Guard could fill that order by the end of the week, if you can help arrange the transportation. My most recent report from Marshal Quin Caradec suggests that we can send around ninety veteran trainers and advisors along with the weapons and ammunition. "We also have a Volunteer Militia Regiment of eight-hundred Usonian expatriates living in Brouges who have requested to be notified in the event that they can feasibly deploy in Colongo. They have their own armaments and supplies. Shall I relay the message to them? "And as for the Congress, I will call for the delegates to assemble an Emergency Session in the name of the Usonian Revolutionary plight. They should be able to congregate the day after tomorrow."

The Tsar received The Priminster with a smile and a firm hand, "Good Afternoon Sir," he said, "And the pleasure is all mine," looking behind him to see if the rest of the delegations had arrived he furrowed his eyebrows, instead of dwelling ok that though he went to shake the hand of the other official that had accompanied the Priminister, "You must be the Minister of the armed forces, it's an honor to meet you." turning around to look at the other pilots he ordered two to stay on the ground to receive the other delegations and to call for more hornets if they brought guests with them. The airmen nodded to their Tsar and continued to check their birds, "care for a flight, Priminister Wilde?" asked Voltus, "Minister McRagear, if you would not mind, could you join airman Feniker in his hornet." the Tsar pointed to the Gyrokopter to the right of his. Walking around he climbed into his cockpit and did the system checks before turning on the motors, they spun to life instantly, the electric motors not needing nearly as much time to start up as a conventional engine. Slipping his headphones on he called overwatch, "Overwatch, this is Blue-gold, do you copy over?" "Blue-gold, this is Overwatch, e copy and you are clear to be recieved up here." said a radio operator from the other side of the transmittion, turning around Voltus yelled over the sound of the chopping blades, "Priminister Wilde, if you would please board the back seat and put on the headphones, I'd appreciate it!" as he finished yelling the other hornet thrummed to life and both were primed for take off.

Irodein Empire- capital city Iro- Imperial palace 1 weeks ago Glaring at the map of there former colony Xulao, Emperor Uldra looked up at his commanders. "Six months ago a blow was done to Irodein prestige when a group of back water rebels. Defeated an Imperial legion and drove it back to the coast. We can't lose our foot hold there." he said pointing to the area still under there control. "First off who has rallied the troops and took command?" "A colonel named Schal apparently he has earn the nickname of 'the butcher' by the locals," one of the generals read of the report he was given. "Give him a promotion to over command, mobilize two divisions to reinforce what holdings we have, and have the imperial navy start harassing there ships." the Emperor order. With the generals saluted and left to carry out the Emperor's orders. 5th Irodien naval squadron- 14 miles off the cost of Colongo City Taking another drag of his cigarette Field Marshal Elva lent on the rails of the bridge of the fleet carrier the IMS.Thebes. Taking one last drag of his cigarette he crushed it under his boot before it walked into the bridge "how close to Colongo city are we?" Elva asked as he enter into the room. "We are 14 miles out sir. I have contacted the Ereatian about our purpose here. They have sent a Gyrokopter to pick you up it will be here whiten the hour," the captian told the field marshal. "Very well then I'll freshen up some before the Gyrokopter. Inform me when it arrives," with the captain salute Elva left to make him self look presentable.

Naarden, Naarden Peninsula, NFRU Word had come in to the port authorities not but several days prior that the arrival of a warship from the south of Irodein design baring the flags of the newly risen Cyzin Kingdom on the southernmost peninsula of the Middle Sea. As luck would have it several military vessels of comparable tonage had recently left port leaving plenty of space for the battleship to come into dock: a fact that the foreman of the port's docking detail was most thankful for. Although several days was hardly enough to plan extensive tours and similar pleasantries that painted the image often expected by foreign dignitaries it was more than enough to brief and prepare the Lieutenant Proletariat-General for the meeting. As such, Lieutenant Proletariat-General Erhard Brandt was found waiting at the grey, breezy docks in a thick grey long-coat and a heavy linen and fur cap to keep his head warm. His short, well trimmed beard barely registered the movement of the wind as his brown eyes stared patiently at the warship as it pulled into harbor. Flanking him were several other dignitaries, most notably the Inspector General Marceline Lara Favreua, head of the Assembly for Social Harmony. The Inspector General wore a femine frock coat and a long woolen dress under that, so thick and heavy it seemingly drooped to the ground and then some. A thin pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose, just partially in the way of her eyes: the mark of an avid reader cursed with vision problems. Behind the pair stood a whole flock of similarly dressed individuals, no doubt the numerous lackeys of the two. As was common in most diplomatic sessions held by the NFRU, and in much contrast to many other governments, not a single soldier could be seen accompanying the throng of diplomats. Indeed, it seemed the only Federal soldiers were those on their ships and frequenting the harbor who were far more interested in the warship or their own tasks than the people disembarking. As soon as the Cyzin dignitaries had made landfall they were greeted with the best traditional Cyzin bow the northmen could muster. "Welcome friend-revolutionaries, I am Lieutenant Proletariat-General Erhard Brandt," intoned Erhard as he raised his hand in a welcoming gesture upon returning upright, a smile creasing his visage and revealing his pearly-white teeth that practically lit up the foggy surroundings. "If the fish speak truly, as I have found they usually do, then your revolution goes well. No doubt this vessel is proof of that enough. As a former revolutionary myself, though for a different cause, I can't help but feel respect for your people's struggle. If you would be your desire, a car awaits to take us to more comfortable lodgings far removed from this blanket of fog."

"Well then, ladies and gentleman, I have a busy day ahead of me. So I must bid you a good day, Mr. Kleiner." The Chancellor rose from her seat as well as her two officers. They saluted as she walked out. Once the door had closed, the HandelWind Kommandant gathered his things and made his way out the door as Katherine approached Kleiner. "Right this way sir." They walked out of the building to the garage where a car waited for them as well Major Thont. "Ahh! Glad to see our very own "Hell's Angel" is going to be showing our esteemed guest what it means to be a sui-" "Major Thont! Glad to see your still expectantly a Major as you were ten years ago when I first met you. Still drinking yourself to sleep at night? Is that, perhaps, why they put you on baby sitting duty instead of a real post on the frontier?" Katherine said, cutting him off. Thont simply held out his hands and shrugged. "What's wrong with being comfortable with your position in life, Hell's Angel?" He said. Katherine shook her head, her annoyed frown turning into a smile. "How have you been Varkos?" She said, shaking Varkos's hand. "Been better, been worse my dear. Where we off to with our guest?" "Take us to Foxtrot Air Field. I want to give him a taste of what's like with an air combat unit." Katherine. Varkos raised an eyebrow and stared at Katherine for a second. Sighing, he shrugged and walked over the car and got in the driver's seat. Katherine then turned to Kleiner. "Right this way sir. " With the group loaded into the vehicle, they drove for some time out of the city. First the roads were paved, crossing the open green fields of the surrounding land on the clear day, the mountains off in the distance. They turned onto a bumpy dirt path until they arrived at a military airfield. The sound of propeller aircraft drifting in an out, yet, oddly enough, there were only one or two aircraft in sight. Both sat silently alone in their hangars. "Here we are ma'am. I guess I leave you to give him the 'tour'." Katherine lead Kleiner into a barracks looking building. It was generally empty and instead of a living quarters it was a briefing room of sorts, with a map wall, chalk board, projector, and seating. It was entirely empty and Katherine nodded to Kleiner. "This is the Pre Flight area. Here Witches and pilots would all gather here on a moment's notice, on any day of the year, to plan out and launch a mission within minutes of the alarm being sounded. Here is a realistic example and how we're going to fly today..." She walked over to a red latch on the wall. She yanked it down and suddenly a loud alarm sounded. As if someone had kicked an ant's nest, the base suddenly came to life. Witches suddenly darting in from all entrances, filing into the room and taking their seats as fast as possible. All the were in uniform, though it varied based on where they were in the base. Some were preparing for a formal night out and were dressed for the best while others wore more casual/standard uniforms for what they thought to be a lazy day of festivities. Now all, regardless of what they had been doing, stood at attention before them in front of their seats, ready for the emergency. Finally, after only five minutes, the commander of Foxtrot squadron came charging in. "WHO THE FUCK PULLED THE AL-.......... Lieu, Lieu, Lieu, ma'am! Lieutenant Colonel Avonsta! Ma'am!" the commander immediately came to attention and saluted. Katherine nodded and returned the salute. "At ease Major Kleinst. I must say, you have drilled your witches quite well for them to be all assembled like this so quickly. I knew I could count on you. We have a special guest today from across the world. This is Ubermeisterung Creutz Kleiner and his security detail from the Great Westhurst Union in the north. We are here today to show him what the Strike Witches can really do and... give him a tour of the skies. May give the briefing to the girls?" "Of, of course ma'am! It would be my honor ma'am!" "Right then.... Alright ladies! Listen up! As you may all know I am Lieutenant Colonel Avonsta, Leading commander of the 133rd Striker Squadron AKA "Hell's Angels", however, today I will be leading you. Our flight plan is simple, just conventional maneuvers, formations, and combat drills, but! You will preform as if the enemy was about to siege the capital and you were all that stands in their way! As you may have been wondering, the two scary lookin fella's and the guy in the rigid dress uniform are foreign observers. These men do not know what it is like to dominate the sky. Today you will show him and me why our Strike Witches are the greatest bunch of pilots the world has ever seen! You have ten minutes to be on that runway and ready for take off! Dismissed!" With that, the Witches rushed out of the building towards the hangars. "Alright, we better move. If I say ten they will probably do it in seven." The group made their way over to a hangar, not a observation tour, oddly enough. There a two seater trainer aircraft sat waiting to go. "We shall be observing their practice from the air. I shall be your pilot for today, Mr. Kleiner, but I'm afraid you must leave your guards behind as it only sits two. That won't be a problem I presume?" she said, almost challenging the man, daring the man to be a coward. They boarded the aircraft and took off into the sky......

REPORT ON THE WEAPONS OF GLOBAL REVOLUTION AUTHOR: Revolutionary Guard General Yvonne Floch TO: The Gezamenlijke Speciale Tactiek Opleidingsschool / L'Ecole Conjointe Speciale d'Entrainement Tactique / Joint Special Tactics Training School This report concerns the specifications, production, diffusion, uses, and track records of the most common weapons employed by comrade-soldiers of the Revolution, in both Liberated Territory and Occupied Territory. This is to serve the educational facilities of the JSTTS, for the purposes of familiarizing soldiers with armaments that they may or may not not have assigned to them, but that they should expect to encounter among comrades in action. As a secondary objective, this report may serve as an easy reference for commanders and logisticians. CATEGORY: SIDEARMS Charcutier series combat/utility knife: Employed as both tools and weapons, these knives are derived from the knife-bayonets employed by the Royal Army of Vallonia-Picardie during the Northern Revolution. Larger, serated versions were originally produced and deployed in Brouges for close combat. The Charcutier is ubiquitous in the Syndicalist world, but the CQC versions in particular mostly serve in urban, jungle, and trench combat. Type-0 series sidearms: The Type-0 series constitutes a number of sidearms originally produced in Naarden. Regardless of variant all Type-0 series sidearms chamber an 8x12mm Parabellum cartridge. The sidearm is characterized by it's eight round box magazine, a toggle-lock action, and it's semi-automatic firing. Weapon specifications for the Type-02 and it's variants state the effective range to be sixty meters. Salière V-8 Machine Pistol: A sidearm originally produced in post-Revolution Brouges, but employing the Naardener 8x12mm Parabellum cartridge in a 25-round box magazine. Firing at 500 rounds/min, its weighted foregrip provides a measure of stability to the compact weapon. Because it is lighter and easier to conceal than full SMGs, it is popular among clandestine agents and rebels in Occupied Territory. It is also issued as a backup weapon to Revolutionary Guard squad support (snipers, machine-gunners, pocket artillerists, etc). CATEGORY: RIFLES Type-3 series bolt-action rifles: The Type-3 series of bolt action rifles consist of a single model of rifle, the Type-35, that has been refined for use by infantryman with any level of training. The rifle itself chambers a 7.92x57 Naarden rifle round fed into the weapon through stripper clip with a ten round capacity. It's design incorporates mainly wooden parts with simple metal mechanisms easy to service and repair. The weapon's effective range is considered 500 meters and an unmodified rifle weighs in at 3.7kg. The Type-35 is commonly seen in the hands of both militiamen and trained infantry and can often be seen with sniper scopes mounted in place of ironsights for use in long range engagements. It is the standard rifle of the Revolutionary Guard Mountain Divisions. Type-4 series semi-automatic rifles: The Type-4 series of semi-automatic rifles were thought up during a Syndintern-wide research and developement program with the goal stated as the invention and production of an easily manufactured semi-automatic weapon that was both robust and simple enough to be used by the wide spread, multi-environmental forces that fought wherever Syndintern member-unions could be found. The rifle series, the Type-4, won for it's simple, rugged design and ease of manufacture. The first model to reach full production was the Type-44, which suffered from a weight issue caused by the weapon's thick barrel to compensate for the powerful round. This was addressed with the production of a carbine variant, the Type-45. This has been by far one of the most popular RSI weapons in the last decade, particularly in the Revolutionary Guard and the Legermacht van de Bondsrepubliek. More recently, the Revolutionary Guard replaced the Type-45 with a newer Type-45a "trench" version complete with a heat shield, a bayonet lug, and an even shorter barrel. This modernized version is the standard rifle of the Revolutionary Guard General Infantry and Airborne Divisions. All versions of the rifle use an 8-round detachable box magazine with 8.7x57 Hanzhan rounds. CATEGORY: AUTOMATIC WEAPONS Type-1 series submachine guns: The Type-1 series of submachine guns are models of submachine guns converted from the widely popular and effective Type-4 semi-automatic rifle series. In order to account for the weapon's increased fire-rate the cartridge chambered has been modified, the weapon now chambering shorter 8.7x20 Hanzhan rounds. Due to it's obvious similarities to the Type-4, the weapon series is easily used by veterans who have had little training with the weapon as long as they have seen extensive service with any of the Type-4 variants. The standard model used most frequently is the Type-12 with one other variant commonly produced, the Type-12a. The latter has a modified air-cooled barrel, an altered muzzle to compensate for high recoil, and proper iron sights. It is the standard SMG of the Revolutionary Guard. Both variants fire at Type-2 series automatic rifles: The development of an automatic rifle was the first of many joint projects between the Revolutionary Guard and the Federal Army. The first version that entered mass production was the Type 26, and this remains the most popular variant by sheer weight of production and distribution. People's Militias, the Republican Landwehr, and rebels across the world value the Type 26 for bringing the power of a light machine-gun to the field in a compact and easy-to-use form. The Type 26a brought some improvements with a heat shield and an integrated bipod, but its longer barrel did not prove especially popular. Despite greater power and accuracy, the version's weight and size prompted many to claim that it offered no advantages over a full LMG. This notwithstanding, it saw a fair amount of distribution because it remained simpler to maintain than the Type 59 (see below). The latest version, the Type 27, is considered a major improvement: It is sturdier, more stable when firing, and has reduced weight without significantly shortening the barrel. One of its unique features is a side-handle, allowing the user to reduce the effects of recoil on accuracy. It has been readily adopted by the Revolutionary Guard and the Dereham Republic Army, but it has yet to see the sheer scale of distribution of the Type 26. All versions chamber 8.7x57 Hanzhan rounds and fire at 500 rounds per minute. They can be equipped with 20 or 30 round box magazines or, less commonly, 50-round drums. Type-5 general-purpose machinegun: The Type-5 series of GPMGs represents an intentional step in the opposite direction of standard weapon doctrines made by the firearm designers in the Haldyr Republics of the NFRU. The weapon's design incorporates a number of modern advancements not seen in any other firearm series currently produced by Syndicalist nations. The current produced model, the Type-59, is the last in a long line of attempts at producing a machinegun light enough and versatile enough to be deployed in the hands of infantry, as a defensive weapons on vehicles, or as an offensive weapon on aircraft and light armor. The Type-59 chambers the 7.92x57mm Naarden cartridge and has been clocked at firing up to 1,200 rounds per minute. The weapon has mainly seen service with the Federal Infantry of the NFRU, now forming the basis of a fireteam, though the weapon is beginning to see deployment with numerous other militaries. Type-7 series heavy machineguns: The Type-7 machinegun is the most widely used machinegun in the entirety of the Syndicalist world, it's numerous variants filling multiple roles in multiple warzones. All of the weapons chamber the deadly .50 Cournaille, a heavy round used for both anti-personnel and anti-armor purposes. The Type-71 and it's long-barreled variant, the Type-71a, both feature water cooled casings around their heavy barrels whilst further variants saw a change to lighter, air cooled systems. Both of the Type-1 variants saw extensive use in recent decades, especially during the Syndicalist revolutions in Cournaille, Vallonia-Picardie, and Flamardie. More modern Type-73 and Type-73a variants see more use as of recent years, the Type-73 deployed on vehicles for point defense while the Type-73a is seen in use as heavy machinegun support for infantry. The Type-74, most modern of all the Type-7 series, appears mostly on vehicles as either point defense, offensive armaments, or frequently quad-linked for anti-aircraft purposes. Type-10 series autocannons: Originally a somewhat obscure design of the Naarden Royal Army, the Type-10 found its popularity in Brouges as a premier urban combat weapon. The gun and its 30mm ammunition is quite heavy, but its sheer power against infantry, cover, and light armor proved indispensable in repelling the Duke of Brouges' early attacks. It also served admirably in battery defense, protecting Revolutionary artillery from Royal Vallard flank raids. The original Type-10 could only fire in 3-round bursts, because fully automatic fire would have destroyed the barrel. However, the upgraded Type-10a has a more resilient build that allows for fully automatic fire at 400 rounds/min. Nevertheless, it is still usually fired in bursts of 3-5 rounds. Although not especially common in Occupied Territory, the Type-10 can be found in staggering numbers in Liberated Territory. One of the International's official military policy goals is to equip every field and factory in RSI-affiliated territory with at least one autocannon for self-defense, and this has essentially been achieved in Brouges and the NFRU. CATEGORY: SUPPORT Type-6 series trenchgun: A Naardener model designed and produced shortly after the end of the Northern Revolutions. The only mass production variant, the Type 62, has founds great popularity as a close-quarters weapon and a "utility" for door breaching. It chambers 12-gauge shot or slug munitions, and it can hold six at a time (one in the chamber, five in the tube). One recent innovation, draakasem ("dragon's breath") ammunition, consists of magnesium pellets that, when fired from the Type 62, shoots sparks and flames up to 100 feet out from the barrel. Though impressive, draakasem ammunition is more a utility than a weapon, used for lighting fires and for short-duration flare signaling. When used in combat, the flash and heat have proven effective at disabling or hindering enemy combat effectiveness, but the flame is not especially lethal except at very close range. Type-8 series AT rifles: Another relatively obscure Naardener design taken up by revolutionaries in Brouges, the Type-8 is perhaps the most widespread anti-tank rifle in the entire world. The weapon, which chambers a 14.5mm armor-piercing round, is remarkably easy to produce, maintain, and operate. Thus, it has been exported to every corner of the earth for use by rebels of any stripe weapons cooperatives have seen fit to support. The original Type 81 chambers only a single round, but the more recent Type 82 uses a 3-round magazine and remains very efficient to produce. Within Liberated Territory practically all Type 81s have been replaced or converted into Type 82s. Type-9 series AT rifles: (94, 94a, 98) - This weapon is a heavier, more complex cousin of the Type-8 series. The first full production model, manufactured in Naarden after the establishment of the NFRU, was the Type 94. The rifle saw mixed performance and was considered by many to be too cumbersome to justify its high production costs. It gained popularity only in the Federal Army, where its heavy 20mm round meshed well with the doctrine of Implacable Advance. The 94a, with a modified muzzle and an integrated scope, was considered enough of an improvement to replace its predecessor and make its way into a few Revolutionary Guard units, but otherwise remained confined to the NFRU. It was only many versions later, with the Type 98, that the series finally gained traction elsewhere. This was the first variant to include a magazine, which was capable of holding 3 rounds. At the same time, the experience of the Revolutionary Guard and volunteer brigades in Dereham proved that Syndintern forces needed a response to improvements in enemy armor. The Type 98 fit this role perfectly, and has since found a place in the Revolutionary Guard and the Dereham Republic Army. Nonetheless, because of its complexity and production costs, it has seen only limited distribution outside of Liberated Territory. Salut V-6 Recoilless Rifle: Perhaps the most famous and widespread weapon to come directly out of Brouges. Designed and produced in the second decade after the Brouges Revolution, the Salut (meaning "salute" or, more informally, "hello") fires a 55mm shell. Because of a system of vents in the rear chamber, the weapon can fire such large ammunition without dangerous levels of recoil. It can be used either as pocket artillery or as an anti-tank weapon, usually mounted on a tripod or bipod but useable as a shoulder-mounted weapon as well. The Salut is standard fare in the Revolutionary Guard and the People's Militias, and its versatility has made it quite popular in Occupied Territory where rebels cannot access normal artillery.