---

---

Holtism was a plague. At least, that was what officer Oak Williamson thought. It seemed that every damn day there was another one standing up and waving about a red flag, and every time it happened it just lead to more suffering and misery. The guild system worked, it had been tried and tested, and look how well it provided for the average man and woman on the street. He carried a guild-made revolver at his hip, wore a guild-made uniform and walked about with guild-made boots. Holtism wished to throw all of that to the wind, and that was why Holtists had no place in Vyissland. Well, that, and their insistence in overthrowing the monarchy. Just expressing Holtist beliefs wasn’t a crime in and of itself, but speaking of overthrowing the monarchy? Now, that was conspiracy to commit treason, and there was only one way that traitors ended up in Vyissland.

Snap. The noose behind the officer went taut, and by turning back to the hooded figure, he could tell that it hadn’t been the rope that had just made that snap. The executioner turned down to the officer, before offering a small shrug. The broad-shouldered figure would stomp across the gallows and loosen it, the body falling through the trapdoor and hitting the ground with a muffled thump. Not many had turned out to see this execution, which was to be expected, it wasn’t a very ‘juicy’ one. The crowds didn’t get riled up unless there was someone seriously heinous up on the gallows. Like that woman, what had her name been? Mary Barrow? Something like that. Murdered her husband and her three kids, then had taken an axe to the head of the police officer who had investigated the noise. Nasty piece of work she had been, and the crowds had been baying for her blood. No quick snap for her either- that had been long, drawn out and nasty.

He may have seen a lot of executions in his time, but that didn’t make them particularly easy when the poor sod on the other end squirmed and kicked, ragged breaths upon ragged breaths until finally they stilled. Sometimes he wanted to just pull the silly bugger’s legs himself, end it, but the crowd always got riled up when that happened, and he normally had his hands full.
Bah, what had the world come to. Anarchists and traitors, the Zengrav up in arms and shooting each other like they hadn’t done before, Belzarov was up in arms… It was far too crazy for a normal man to live his life, and here these fellows were that wanted to ruin the prosperity that they had in Vyissland just so the workers didn’t have to work. Madness.

---

One of the many duties that Crown Prince Marshal had was to periodically make a showing at the Bridge Cities- which one wasn’t entirely important as long as he went to one of them. Here, he was to spend a day walking about, inspecting the soldiers and machines that guarded the bridge between Vyiss and Bravsaara, shake the hands of a few generals and officers and have his picture taken so that the newspapers could have their daily dose of gossip about the royal family. Although normally he would have taken his wife with him, she had decided quite suddenly that she was feeling unwell, and that the rocking and bouncing of the train as it made its way towards the western coast was quite unbefitting of her and would only exacerbate her maladies.

In a way, it was a blessing, as it meant that he could have a proper meeting with a new guild leader… And if what he had heard was right, one of the youngest as well. Quite a figure too- where Marshal was broad-shouldered and had a respectably-grown beard, this new guild leader was slimmer, shorter and only had a set of still-growing sideburns. Nonetheless, it was not the appearance that made the man, and already Marshal had realised that Leon’s intelligence was quite beyond what his appearance would suggest.
“I must admit, when I learned that the guild of mechanised engineers had gotten themselves a new leader, I had expected almost everything but you.” The prince kept one hand on the table between them to keep himself grounded as the train rattled across a sweeping field. “But, I cannot say that I disagree, now that I have had the chance to talk with you. I believe that you’ll bring us great things, Mr Leon. Great things indeed.”

---

---

The monkey picked up his sugary fruites directly from the hands of the emperor himself, in a way that always amused the little boy. Giggling with joy, he watched the animal scuttle away from him, before chewing on the red meat of berry, carefully eyeing the son of heaven, as he sat on the marble floor. "You want some more, my little friend?" Reaching below his silk robes, he produced another berry, before holding it towards the monkey. With a cry of joy, the animal reached out, but this time, the emperor was fast enough. Pulling the berry back, he broke out into laughter over the angry face that the small monkey made, rolling onto his back, before slowly sitting back up. The monkey still stared at him, now with a face that looked sadly at him.

For a few moments, the emperor looked at the monkey, before he was reminded of the chain around his neck. The animal was a prisoner in this room, chained to his own amusement, a gift from the wise uncle Sukh, to keep him company in his own cage, that were the royal quaters inside the palace. "I am sorry, little friend. I didnt mean to hurt you by my thoughtless actions." The emperor slowly reached out, this time truly giving the berry to the animal. Seeing him devour the fruit once more filled the young boy with a strange happiness. "Uncle Sukh says, that the war soon will be won. Then, i can show you my empire. The servants told me so much about it. First i am going to visit the sea. Did you knew that there are cities that have a hundred multiplied by a hundred people in them? Even more! Millions of people. I cant wait to see them all." The emperor slowly moved his hand, trying to reach for the monkeys head, but the animal screamed at him, before quickly rushing back onto the crude imitation of a tree, made from wood, jade and gold. A sad sigh left the mouth of the monarch, as he slowly rose from the ground, before bowing before the animal. "Good night, dear friend. I hope, i can bring you more sweets tomorrow."

---

---

"To uphold the law, does not simply require submission to its demands. True obedience to the law, means the total acceptance of a new truth, which is the eternal authority of the almighty law. And if the law states a falsehood, its nature, shall make its a truth!"

_{Baskya Hana "Ethics of Enlightened Legalism"}

---

Even in the freezing cold of the water, Han knew that it was a body that his feet were stepping on. The water was around his chest, roaring and furious. The river had become a beast awoken, a monster of ancient days, eager to sate its hunger on the small ships that had dared to try to cross it in the middle of the night. But there was no darkness, for fire and fury had brought the day back onto the world, as shells from the other bank ignited in the sky, falling down like meteors, basking the world into a yellow dim, that mixed with the red of the fire, the white of the snow and the burning fires of the flamethrowers.

Han did not know, how he did not drown, in his attempt to reach the bank. Cold water, mixed with mud and blood filled his throat, as his hand digged into the wet clay of the other side, he himself remaining blind, deaf and disoriented. Stronger hands then his own grabbed him, tugging him out of the water, into an ice-cold day, before he felt a hot breath onto his face. His hands burned from the cold, as he tried to clean his face of the mud and blood, his belly emptying the cold water he had swallowed. Rolling he pressed his hands against his ears, slamming his fists against them, trying to regain some sense of hearing. Somewhere, very close to him, something terrible hot was shot from the water, onto the bank near him. Slowly, his ears regained their capability of hearing, only to hear the screams of the burning royalists, louder than anything else. Han was sure, that he once had a gun with him, but as he reached over his shoulder, he found nothing. Then, there were the hands again, pushing him down, but this time, Han could see a face with them. A Lavanki, shouting words that he did not understand, before dragging him forward. Han had no choice but to stumble forwards, pulled on by the still shouting soldier.

It was an eternity, that Han felt he half-stumbled, half was dragged onto the bank. Then, finally he was pushed down a small slope, into what looked like the remains of a trench. Once more, he spat out water, before finally being able to raise his head. Turning, he looked back onto the river, in awe of the spectacle that unfolded on it. The other side was bleeding men onto small boats, rafts and all kinds of vehicles, attempting to cross the roaring river. What had planned to be a well organized surprise attack, was unfolding as pure chaos, as shells and machinegun fire was still being poured from the other side, the side Han and his Lavankian companion were now on. The whole scene unfolded strangely distantly and Han was almost unable to take his eyes from it. Turning, he saw the Lavanki leaning against the wall, trying to reload his rifle with shivering fingers. "Where are the rest? I am Whiteshirt Han from the 23th company of glorious liberation! Where is the combat line?" The Lavanki tilted his head, before croaking out another swarm of words, which Han could make no sense off. Cursing his luck, the White-Shirt looked around, before realizing, that the two must have already made it into the enemy lines. A lucky shell, must have cleared off this section of the trench, allowing the two of them to slip into it. It seemed like the Lavanki had reached the same conclusion, as the two suddenly heard shouts coming from the side. In turning, they could see the royalists coming their way. Without a second thought, Han turned to the side. Gesturing to the Lavanki to follow him, the first resounded loudly in the narrow trench, as the Lavanki´s shoulder was turned into a red mist. Dropping his rifle, Han reached for it, yet the high-pitched scream of a woman made him look up, as he saw her charge at him with a lowered bayonet.
He picked up the gun, no time to put a bullet in, but instead he used it like a club, to meet the charging woman. The Minga was upon him in seconds, stabbing at his chest with a blade that glittered sharply in the light of the trail of the artillery shells and the flamethrowers. For the second time, in less than ten minutes, Han was fighting for his life, evading the sharp steel, while the woman shouted blue murder from the top of her lungs.

An explosion near the trench tossed both from their feet, yet Han lacked the strength to get up in time. Coughing and shivering, he stared up at the Minga woman, her long braid hanging down the back of her head, while the rifle was pointed right at him. Swallowing, Han felt his heart exploding in his chest, as he let out an groaning plea. "Wait...please..wait." Then, a flash of light, the sound of an automatic weapon being unloaded at close range. The Minga fell in a way, that reminded Han of a crude parody of a dance. "You, get that rifle and get up! You are attached to this combat unit, whiteshirt." Han stumbled back onto his feet, as he looked at the group of whiteshirts jumping down into the opening of the trench. Finally, he was able to collect his breath, before picking up the rifle from the dying hands of the minga. "Unity above all! Onwards Brothers!"

---

Southwest Sentra, area of Planegrund. 3 days ago.
touropia.com/gfx/d/small-towns-in-swi…

Walking through the village of his birth and upbringing flodded him with emotions, how he used to play ball with his friends, how said ball rolled down the slope and jumped over that fence and they had to climb for an hour to get it back, how he felt when he enlisted in the army, graduated school and how the sun always warmed his face in the summers.
Now he was carrying a simple pack, filled with towels and bottles and heading outside town.

He reached the old arch marking the edge of town and stood for a while waiting. They had planned on meeting here midday and it sure was midday now, but he could see no sign of the others.
Without warning a wool blanket was tossed over him followed by a roar of laughter and four guys slapping the blanket as ferociosly as they could.
-"Danie boy! Little army man can't even see us coming, no wonder you aren't a ranger!" Danie recognized the voice of Jacky, one of his childhood friends and whom always teased him and the others for all sorts of things.
-"Who'd want to be a ranger anyway, i'm proud infantry!" Danie retorted while getting the blanket off, knowing full well Jacky always bragged of his father who was a retired ranger. Jacky took his revenge with giving Danie's nose a slap with the finger.
-"Let's go slowpoke, last one there carries Jonn back!" Jacky blurted out while setting off.
-"Hey, you know i'm always last!" Jonn was a bit fat and the tone of his voice was an obvious fake hurt.

They climbed the mountain, as they had done many times before. There was a path hewn from the stone in the middle ages and they had helped put up new rope lines when they were kids on one of the sections.
After some time they left the trodden path and went along the cliff side. It was a winding break in the rock and there was a precarious drop below the half metre ledge they were trodding along, often going sideways with their backs to the wall.
-"One, two, three... FOUR HUPP!!!..." On four Danie jumped the gap leading to the small plateu on the side of the mountain. He finished with.
-"... five."
They were setting up their stuff, some blankets and a pillow and sat down and looked over the amazing view.
Far down in the valley one could see the little stream, all around the majestic broad mountains could be seen and to the northeast one could see parts of Logusû, mainly the royal palace in its splendour.
In the distance the sun was setting and this spot was among the best to see it. The clouds were coloured in oranges, pink and purple. In truth the display was beautiful.
The clinks of bottles broke the silence and Jacky was handing out beers and the signature plops of the corks being undone filled the scene followed by Jacky giving a great exhale and looking at his bottle and saying.
-"This is some nice stuff, you can afford this Danie boy?" The doubt colouring his words.
-"I got an advanced paycheck, to help me prepare for the service, so i have plenty to spare. I'm a fortress-suit operator after all, among the best paid in the military."Danie plopped open his beer, gave a small cheer and took a mouthful letting the taste fill his mouth, the others were gawking at him.
-"Fortress-duty? No way! The only ones with more pay are the royal guards! No wonder you got the best stuff." The others were jealous but honestly happy for their friend, not that they would admit that. Danie just shook his head and looked at his bottle.
Steelbrew, made locally and flavored with Toppler-herb flowers, to say it's the fine stuff is like saying an iron pot is the fine stuff since it isn't clay, or no pot at all. But they had been poor farmer boys all of them their whole lives, Steelbrew was just one of those things that weren't viable for them most of the time.
Danie looked at the others, smiled and just let out a bawling groan that was Svediran throat singing, popular with young boys like himself.
Jacky took a gulp, helped Jonn up and they simultaneously started a real bassy low tone, followed with Bill taking a high note, which Danie followed with the lyrics.

They sang and laughed and drank for hours, truly enjoying themselves and made so much noise they woke up some of the neighbours, but they didn't care.
It was tradition to send their friend off with a party like this, it had been in Svedira for generations. Soon Danie would do his service in the military, a great honor but tough work.
Tough work indeed.

The first Svediran international railway. Present day.
It was the grand opening of the first international railway of Svedira, it went southeast into the lowlands of the Corax Dominion, an old enemy of Svedira who in latter years have pushed hard for a railway connection.
Through hard toils, hundreds of political meetings and rallies and speeches, the railway was finally built, partially funded by Corax but to their great miscontent not the same width as their railways.
The Svediran logic was that should this experiment be fruitfull, the rail will be widened to allow for Corax locomotion, but for now it will be like this.
In truth it was a pathetic railway, it went for eight kilometers into Corax and stopped at a trainstation there. On the opposite side of the yard compared to the Coraxian line. From where cargo would be unloaded and then the train would reverse back to Svedira.
For this reason, the train had two locomotives, both armoured behemoths of steel. Sure they were nothing like the castle trains of Corax, but compared to other nations they were machines of war.
Spewing black coal smoke and slow, but such were the trains of Svedira.

Hundreds had gathered for the great inauguration and even the royal family was there.
Banners fluttering in the wind, flowers made into all manners of decorations and the sun was high. The cheers of the people almost drowning out the orchestra playing marching songs.
With a fanfare, the royal soldiers of the Svediran army came marching in practiced line and file, putting up a show by raising their knees high with each step, at least those in light armour.
Danie Hopps was second to the left on the first row of five Fortress Warsuit troopers of three, behind a whole lot of rangers and a whole lot more Mountainside infantry behind him.
He risked looking on the gathered populace and they were cheering louder as his squad came into view. Fortress warsuits were a pride of the nation and being part of its corps was seen as a great honor and they were showing it.
He thought he glanced his mum in the crowd, he wanted to wave but resisted the urge to do so, especially as his eyes wandered to a stand, where he could see the stoic forms of the royal guards, guarding the king himself.
Wearing a beautiful black jacket with gold buttons and red lining, he wore his steel crown and had a positively regal attitude and stance.
Danie immediately straightened his walk a bit more and concentrated hard on showing his absolute best side.
The king himself was here, the good king of the mountain.

King Vasil Svediri I looked upon one thousand of his loyal troops, looking impressive and competent as always. He tried his best to look regal and in charge while in truth all he wanted to do was to get to some shade because of the warmth.
Used to the cold windy mountaintops of Logusû the lowlands was hotter than he remembered, or perhaps today was just awfully good weather.
He cursed his choice of attire, dreaming of another jacket, white with imported pearls.
Without looking at him, he ordered one of his servants to fetch water and give it to him on signal, the sharply dressed servant made a hasty bow and scampered off at speed.

Soon the procession of troops stopped, near a tarp covered thing on the rail which was obviously a train but the inauguration planners at least tried to keep it as much of a surprise as possible.
Stepping up to a stone pew, the king adjusted his sleeve and checked the microphone.
-"Dear populace of Svedira and all others gathered here today, today we witness a great moment in our history. The inauguration of the first international railway of Svedira!" He put on a smile for the cheering populace, the mood was at the top and many, including the king felt a great sense of pride.
-"Through the hard work of our miners, mill workers, soldiers and many others we've finally gotten to this moment, the moment where we officially connect to another country for the first time. Let this be a pillar, symbolising our prophesised future, a future of peace, joy and abundance."
The people were now listening with great interest, silent nods and joyful smiles.
-"So gaze now upon this pillar of our future!" Raising his arm palm up towards the train, the people all turned to see the tarp being removed, massive cheers erupted as the machine beneath was revealed.
With a hidden gesture the king motioned for his water and drank, upholding his image as the stoic man people thought he was.
The train was a massive steel armoured steam train with a stocky look, a rounded top and front with a massive grilled prow several meters tall and wide.
The entire train was massive, compared to the castle trains of Corax it wasn't that much to be sure, but this train was still a hulking behemoth unlike most others. Clearly inspired by the trains of their southern neighbours but with a distinct Svediran look to it.
The king now strode towards the train, with his entourage of royal guards forming a perimeter around the king, whom some even threw flowers towards.
The railway chief gave a deep bow and presented a wooden bowl to the king, filled with gosser goat milk.
He now held the bowl up high, a man struggled to get the microphone cable to the king so he could speak into it.
-"I will now welcome this beast into the family that is Svedira. We will take care of it as it will provide for us. I name thee..... 'Behemoth's stride. Pillar of the future'." With a massive cheer the populace threw hundreds of flowers into the air as the king tossed the goat milk all over the grilled prow of the train.
With that the king waved and took his leave, he was boiling alive and wanted to get to shade as quickly as possible. He had planned to go to a nice balkony on a nearby house, to enjoy some shade and to see the train take its virgin voyage from a vantage point.

A brass horn signal followed and the soldiers began to march as the music began anew. They began to board the train and take their positions.
From his vantage point the king could see how massive the train was. Armour plated carriages, a train locomotive on each end of the train, both equally massive. Behind the coal wagons a turreted citadel with anti-mech cannons to fend off any threats.
A thousand troops to protect the Svediran interests, it was a sign of power, and a sign of paranoia to the citizens of Corax who were present on this side of the border to hear the kings speech.

Within twenty minutes, the train was up to heat and gave off a massive signal from its twin steam whistles, who gave off an unexpectedly growling whistle before the train began to chug and move.
Massive cheers and the band playing the Svediran anthem, which people soon joined in and sang to their hearts content.
A song singing of pride, the vileness of Svediras foes and protecting your homes. Forming battallions and defending what was rightfully Svediran.
A song that often made others sceptical, especially the part with letting the mountains drizzle with the blood of their foes to make the Toppler herbs grow vibrant and strong.

The Behemoth's stride soon left the station, to go to the border and into the Corax dominion to one of their border stations to sell its coal.
Danie felt paranoid, he was sitting in one of the troop wagons on standby, going into the corax dominion, who were formed of several old enemies of Svedira. But in truth it wasn't the Corax that made him feel paranoid, it was the fact that ten Svediran royal guards were on the train.
Sleek bright steel armour, imposing longswords and beautiful rifles and pistols, standing with a royal grace and deadly presence even he, wearing a fortress warsuit, the heaviest armour in the known world felt like he wouldn't be able to take one of them on should they feel the need to.

He wasn't actually afraid they would do anything like that, but their deadly presence still sent chills down his spine, and also the fact his nation felt the need to put royal guards on the train meant that this was a very serious operation.
He hoped nothing would go wrong. That the corax would not try anything funny.

Hours later, the area of Planegrund, finest hotel in the area.
The king never like going with zeppelin, they moved to much in the wind, he preferred cable cars or lifts. Sturdy reliable and grounded transports.
King Vasil and his sister, Karina were sitting on another balcony and looking over the beautiful village of Planegrund.
They had sat there for a while, exchanging a courtly hug befit of siblings and enjoyed some small talk over tea.
-"It is always a pleasure talking with you Karina, but sadly i'm not meeting you simply for pleasure. How goes the mooring post project?" King Vasil kept stirring his tea, but his tone was in aserious business tone.
-"How i missed simply talking to you brother." She slightly shook her head before answering.
-"The mooring post is coming along somewhat well, we've had some issues with wind and a delay of a section of the mast. Apparently the transport tram fell over and the whole thing got stuck in a tunnel. Luckily no wounded." The king nodded his response.
-"So Vasil, how goes the diplomacy side of things? I know you've had issues with setting up meetings with Vercingetorix." Karina's voice was optimistic and regal, but one could notice a hint of tiredness in it and her eyes.
-"Well unlike in the past it's not on the side of the empire the problems lie, sometimes i curse fathers propaganda and the loyalty of the populace. I'd love to go to the empire for a political visit, but my 'dear' loyal troops wouldn't let me leave with less than a battallion of bodyguards and probably half the army...." He was overreacting and venting his frustrations, but he was correct.
-"I know of their love for you, i know how frustrating it can be." She smiled a broad smile, Vasil met her eyes with his and sighed.
-"Do you now? Regardless of that i've sent a political envoy with a small group of ten bodyguards in my stead, they will speak to the envoy of the empire and go over the details of the air traffic agreement, hopefully we can continue our good progress from the last meeting." Vasil's answer was filled with apathy.
-"Yes. I read the reports and i agree it is coming along nicely. I will work on my final proposition to the empire and send it to you for evaluation." She finished off with a sip of tea, her voice filled with little emotion since both of them knew it was basically her dealing with the empire and Vasil just nodding and sending it along.
-"Perhaps something else will cheer you up. How goes that aid package you planned?" Karina asked with a clear curiosity to her, the king lost some of his apathy and responded.
-"Ah yes, the Gaellician aid package. I've worked on how to best route the transport and speaking with the governments involved." Vasil sipped his tea before he continued.
-"The transport vehicle itself is also soon finished, it should be able to bring along all the things it will need."
-"What was your response to your advisors idea of sending them military supplies as well?" Karina asked.
-"I told him that was not my intention. This package is for the populace, not for the war. Despite i don't want to anger the Volsinii." The kings answer had little emotion, Karina simply made a small shrug and agreed.
-"Oh did you hear of dear sisters new painting, she'll be showcasing it in the capitol tomorrow? Should we go?" Karina was now changing the subject completely, trying her best to be cheery.
-"I don't know, there is a lot of planning and...." Vasil began with trying to excuse himself but changed his mind.
-"No, i will... NO, we will go, all three of us will go and watch the unveiling of dear Veroniq's art exhibition. I've worked far too much lately and she deserves the attention." Vasil put down his cup with a clatter, emoting his feelings, he really felt like doing this, mostly for Veroniq's sake but also since he felt the three of them spent far to little time together.
Karina smiled and the two of them started planning the day and phoned Veroniq.

[Volsinii-Imperial palace]

It was days like Messor understood the phrase "Heavy lies the crown." As he looked upon the map of the world that was layed before him. His eyes looked over the old rival of Volsinii, Vercingetorix. The old foe of the empire more than likely enjoy Volsinii fall from its position. Furthermore, shaking up the balance of power that keep order in the north. Thus, giving them a free hand to implement whatever our plans they had. Moving onto ruins of Zengrav empire. It was a mess of different factions battling for control but Messor had decide to send supplies and 'Volunteers' to aid the monarchist factions. Hopefully giving the empire a measure of influence over Zengrav.

The Emperor soon turn his attention to the biggest torn in his side was Gaellicia itself. A rebellious province has done more to damage Volsinii prestige than another nation had done. Even with the signing of the peace deal had only led to more trouble. In Colwyn there is consistence attacks upon various imperial and their allies’ forces. But he was brought back to the conversation by his grand marshal Valerian.

"My Emperor, Legatus legionis Diocletius is requesting two additional legions to better police Colwyn and to deter further rebellious action from the local population." Messor consider the request for a few minutes before responding.

"There are already four legions in Cowlyn. If we send more, we would run the risk of the other nations assuming it is a build up for an invasion. Inform Diocletius he will have to make due and if he cannot I am sure there are many Legates who could," Messor answers as the council moved onto other matters.

=====================================================================
[Colwyn- Checkpoint VII, 4th Legion]

Centurion Sidonius sat in the covered dug out that serve as his command post for the past couple of weeks. The checkpoint was located on the main highway that ran the length of Cowlyn. They were using it to screen for contraband that were being smuggled up the main roads. With his Centuria on checkpoints duty. Meaning that all his men were scattered among different positions along several of the other main walls. Which was not that bad it was better than the patrols that the other Centuria had to do.
Suddenly one of the cars being checked exploded throwing him to the ground.

"Casualties!?" He shouted to his men as they recover from the blast.

"Private Sanctus was killed along with a couple of the bystander. A dozen more are wounded!" One of the legionaries responded to him.

"Start treating them!" Sidonius ordered as he checked the radio to see if it survive the blast. Finding it is he tuned to the correct channel.

"This is checkpoint VII we just had a bombing here. We have suffered casualties need medical assistance," he spoke into the radio. Reciving an affirmation on the set he looked at the smoldering ruins of the car and the wounded being treated. It was another day in Colwyn.

Across the desert, a small convoy mournfully walked. White robes adorned them as they moved, camels plodding their way across the sandy and rocky formations. Behind the main body of the mourners came two more camels, behind them a firmly secured sled, designed to be dragged across the sands without hindering the movement of the beast that carried it. Up a dune, down the other wise, and there it was. Bleached, scuffed and almost buried by the sands, the burial grounds of the Dalahem Sayyid families. Descending off the camels and tying them to the few structures that still stood- dilapidation from the desert was considered right and proper for these burial grounds, a way for the desert to reclaim the dust that it had lost.

The new Sayidd- Ahid bin Mayel, watched as his father was removed from the sled and placed down on the sands. Then, shovels would be brought out. Digging a pit in the desert was difficult, sweltering and dangerous work, with the real threat of dehydration, but luckily it didn't need to be deep. Once the desert had taken the body, it would only bury it deeper and deeper. Taking one of the shovels, Ahid would take the symbolic first load of sand, and then step back as gravediggers did the rest of the work. They were efficient and quick, supplied by an excess of water from some of the mourining women.

Once it was done, it was his job to move the sled into the hole. The shroud stopped him from seeing his father's face as he lowered the corpse into the pit, looking down at it. No words were spoken. The funeral had already occured- only family, the gravediggers and one close friend was here to watch the once great Sayidd be entombed within the sands. Holding the spade in his hand, Ahid once again made a symbolic first gesture by shovelling the sand into the hole, before letting the gravediggers do the rest.

Then, it was done. From the sands had the man come, and now to the sands he had returned. Placing his hands on his mother's wrists, Ahid would gently lead her back to their beasts and place a few minted disks in the hands of the gravediggers, their sweat clear even with the many layers of loose clothing they wore. The convoy would clamber back onto their camels again and slowly leave, plodding back the way they had came.

---

Flint Debenham felt deeply out of place in this strange and very, very hot land. The Dinnin peoples, he had learned through their studies, were not the bunch that normally took to strangers warmly, and although he could see that from the many looks he had recieved, yet the diplomat that had escorted him had seemed nothing but polite. After an initial meeting over tea, the pair had emerged into the streets of Yisslam. To the young Vyiss noble, it was another world. Coloured facewraps, women arguing with vendors underneath canvas canopies, sand beneath his feet... It was all quite different to even how he had arrived in this city.

The train ride across the bridges, then through Bravsaara had already been long enough. Belzarov train services were atrocious- the government couldn't do anything right in that country, so he had taken a car through to Zengrav, where he had then had to procure another car to reach the eastern boarder of the deserts that the Conclave called home.

Finally he had arrived here... And had been promptly informed that they wished to take him further into the country to the city of Dalahem. He was exhausted, but now that he was here a strange sort of energy had infected him, and he had spent no small amount of time in deep conversation with the bearded man that was guiding him to the other end of the city, where they were to experience one of the marvels of the Conclave- regular airflight.

The Royal Air Force was a new beast in Vyissland, so to see planes being used to carry passengers, rather than just the military? Why, it was something truly extraordinary. He had herard that the tickets for such a flight went for almost thirty pounds in Vyissland, so he felt no surprise when he was told that it was normally used only by nobles and businessmen.

"Here we are now." The diplomat would indicate to the airstrip. Around them were proper military planes, but there was only one that they cared about here- the one and only passenger plane in the city at the moment. It was not exactly a beautiful thing, but it was the transportation of the future. A trip that took hours or even days by driving over the sands took much less in a plane. "We're actually slightly late, so we should be boarding now." There was only room for five passengers, which meant that this was where his journey ended. "Another man will meet you on the other end, dressed much like I am, make sure to talk to him, and he will take you to meet Sayidd Ahid."

"Understood, thank you sir." The man would offer a nod to his desert counterpart, before clambering over the side of the plane and into one of the seats. He was then instructed to put on the heavy coat there- swealtering on the ground, but not so much in the air, and strap himself in well. With that done, the rotors would turn, first slowly, but then faster and faster, until at last they had taken off, the wind and sand whipping by them as they ascended off the ground and into the air.

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"Socialism and democracy are two sides of the same coin. Let it be known, all over Zengrav, that our republic is build upon three legs. Wellfare, Education and Internationalism"

_{Cheng Wan "Socialist Party of Zengrav / Rally on the 12th anniversary of the Haidan University Massacre"}

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"Nationalist forces have crossed the Laugan at multiple points, and established beachheads. Royalist lines are broken, their fifth and seventh army is in fully retreat south, most likely to form a defensive line in the Lauhan Hills." Sipping his tea, the young general looked at the map in front of him, as his officers moved figures and blocks over it. "They wont be able to keep this up. The nationalist are exhausted and overstretched." Nodding to the words of his adviser, Wangs eyes moved slowly to the eastern part, and the looming red blocks, amassed at the royalist border. "Any Intel from the east?" A servant entered, fresh tea and dumpling on a plate, soon to be placed on the crowded map in front of the general. "Bloody reds still deny any planned offensive, while they bring more and more material to the border, sir. They know, that the royalist tigers neck has been broken by Yesui´s forces. Its all about the race to Zur-Han and who gets the emperor first." Turning his back from the map, Wang walked towards the grand wall of windows, that gave a view over what was left of Kaifang. Where once had been a city, now was a camp. Houses, burned out and shelled for weeks, now had been turned into barracks for the soldiers of the 3rd, while halls now harbored the tanks and trucks of the army. All in between, huddled and dirty, the last civilians of Kaifang endured. Children running errants or selling black market goods to the soldiers, while their mothers sold their bodies. The were hardly any father left. Most had been drafted by the royalists to defend the city, after Bede Sukh had retaken it from the weak leadership that had been Deputy Governors General Ma Auroit folly. He paid with the wire jacket for it, his dying extended for weeks.

It had his first task, to reclaim the city from the royalists, just half a year ago. Hao Lin had taken the city during the first siege masterfully and with surprisingly little bloodshed, but Wangs conquest had not been so lucky. The iron Duke was not one to leave much to chance and had made him bleed deeply for every inch of ground. With the nationalist offensive in the north, Sukh had traded the lives of the civilian population for time. It was an irony, that he, one of the last to leave the city, would be heavily wounded by an artillery shell. With him wounded, the Royalists were easy prey, and for the second time, the blue banner of the republic flew high above the ducal palace. Still there was no order for the 3rd to advance, or do anything, besides holding its position.

Wang knew why this was the case. The royalists were at an end, their manpower drained, their armies crushed and their industry spend. But this war, was far from other. To the east, the reds, allies of the republic, would soon move on-mass, pouncing onto the dry-bleed royalist territory, racing the nationalists to the imperial capital of ancient days. There, it would be, where the dreaded next phase of the war would begin. For neither nationalists nor the Socalists had any intention of negotiation. When the white and red tide would meet, blood would be spilled.