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The Red Lotus hotel in Zang-Quin, was the most lavish Establishment of its kind in all of Zengrav. Bought by an Sairish company, it had made its name, by catering to the taste of the elite of the city, offering international luxuries in the war-torn country, as well as discretion for all kinds of affairs, bribery and other mischief. It was here, where the yearly New years eve Gala was taking place, and the rich and powerful of the republic would gather, be it for amusement or politics! For if one was looking, one could find both in exess among the people at this party.
Plantation-Owners walked next to captains of industry, who in turn shaked hands with politicians, diplomats and envoys, generals and Officers. Senators mingled with rising singers and moviestars, journalists with arms-dealers and shareholders. Even some of the most powerful bosses of the Uzra-Zagra in the Capital, had amassed enough goodwill among the powerful to be invited.
Among them, where those who they called the Dandy-Clique, due to their lavish clothing, expensive tastes and mostly beautiful companions. In their mid, was the Chancellor Heegon Wu ever present, always the one laughing the loudest, constanly having his glass refilled, while endlessly talking to the mass of sycophants surrounding him.

"No, i do believe that there is no chance that the nationalists ever will pose a threat again. Some border trouble, mayhaps, but nothing to worry about! Yes...yes, i am aware of Lavania but i got to ask, what do they wish to gain from it? No, my dear friend, i am most certain, that we will have nothing to fear from that regard anymore! The real enemy are the Royalists! And then later...well, i dont say that at some point we do have to deal with the damn red but...well, we all know it, dont we? I do hope for a diplomatic solution, but that red brother fella? He aint nothing but trouble i tell you!"

A whole army of valets and butlers was rushing among the many groups, always making sure that the glasses were full, while the big-band on the round stage in the middle was putting on a slower song, as a gorgeous beauty from the vershelleen Colony of Sarish was slowly walking on state, towards the microphone. Moments later, the dark skinned beauty would lure the room in, with a voice in the melodic accent of homeland. Nothing in this room would even hint at the fact, that this were the leaders of a nation at war...

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Yesui Olya´s nails were digging into the Scabbard of her sword, which she never put out of her hand, as she was sitting on the chair on the top of the long table. Her once fine face, had been painted with make-up, so thick that every movment of her muscle made parts of it crickle off. Her single cold eye was resting on the hall, where the leaders of the Nationalist army were buzzing around, like a swarm of angry hornets. Everyone could feel the tense knowledge of the coming battle in the air, yet it was also mixed with the sweetness of the promise of vengeance against the royalists who had once brought them to the bring of defeat.

"Wehh..cross...at dawn! There will be no...merchyyy" Her once powerful voice was just a whisper now, yet still it could be heard among the mass of people, as she stared at the map, speaking to nobody but herself. "We g..guttt them...burn...them...and bury...their ash with horse-shit.." Raising from her seat, her legs were shivering, as her nails digged deeper into the Scabbard. "YOU H...hhhear me...No...merchyy..." The room was silent for a moment, before a loud voice broke the silent. "WE WILL KILL THEM ALL, GREAT LEADER! UNITY ABOVE ALL!" Salutes and cheers followed, and for a moment, a grim grin moved on Yesui´s face, which took half her mouth, the part that was not just painted onto scared flesh, where once a lip had been. For just a moment, she kept standing, before sinking back into her chair.

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The air was stale in the room, as the discussions had raged on for hours without end. Syndicalist met with social-democrates, Totalists with anarchists and all argued with the wise old brother. He had defended his purges for the better part of the day, as a necessary step to saveguard the people of the new republic from the counter revolution and to punish the vile murder of the red father. An single accusation had been flung at him, by an anarchist, who had dragged out by the ever-present Revolutionary guards of the red Turbans.

The man on the stage, a slim student with big glasses, who´s voice was meek, as he read out loudly international letters of support, barley got any attention, as the congress already had went on for twenty hours, and most had already resorted to talk with others, as the seats were split up among the many factions, the frontlines clear cut by banners, armbands and sometimes even signs of protest. Above all, the wise older brother and his clique was sitting well protected in their own little corner, armed red turbans keeping all who had no offical buisness or the approval of the wise brother in some distance...

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"ALL KNEEL BEFORE THE SON OF HEAVEN, EMPEROR OF ZENGRAV AND ITS PEOPLE, KHAGAN OF ALL MINGA, KING OF THE QUIN , SCOURGE OF ALL BARBARIANS, PROTECTOR OF PEACE, GUARDIAN OF THE ANCESTRAL SHRINES, SOLE HEIR TO THE THRONE AND DEFENDER OF THE REALM! ALL KNEEL BEFORE HIS HEAVENLY MAJESTY OTGONBAYAR THE V."

The young boys steps were the only sound in the room, as he slowly made his way down from his throne, towards the kneeling mass of people. Holding onto the golden silk, he did his best to look like an emperor, yet those close enough could see his hands shiver, as he slowly made his way through the kneeling crowd.

"Bedtime for an emperor..."

The whisper spoke out what most people kneeling thought, yet it was silent enough, that nobody would raise a word about it. And so, the little emperor, slowly left the throne-room. Finally, the heavy doors fell shut, and the mass of people was allowed to rise again. The Lord Field Marshall Bede Sukh, was the first to make his way up the stairs, high enough that he could be seen by all in the room. "A TOAST TO THE EMPEROR AND TO VICTORY! THE HEAVENLY EMPIRE SHALL ENDURE EVER STRONGER! LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR! LONG LIVE THE HEAVENLY EMPIRE!" Cups of fermented horse-milk were quickly given out to the people in the hall, and voices were raised to join into the cheering. And as the people disbanded from the places they had kneeled, the Lord Field Marshall remained in place, looking down at the mass, a grin moving onto his old face.

The fire roared as Liu Shao fed more documents to the flames, each page to the naked eye would be an innocuous letter. But with the correct cipher, it would certainly be enough to have Liu Shao placed in front of a firing squad and shot. He did not intend to let that happen. Each message from his contacts within the Nationalist and Communists causes were carefully memorized before he destroyed them. His fellow Republicans had never understood the necessity of intelligence gathering, which is why the Republican’s found themselves still clinging to a strip of the coast instead of governing from the Royal Capital after a decade.

The news of the Nationalist offensive had not surprised Liu Shao, he had been hearing rumbles from his contacts for weeks now. Such a massive number of men and supplies could not go unnoticed for long. What had alarmed Liu Shao was the news of the impending Nationalist success. He had not thought it possible for the Nationalists to seize a bridgehead on the River so quickly, let alone overwhelm the Royalist forts on the riverbank.

It was an opportunity that the Republicans could not afford to miss.

A truce with the Communists and the Royalists distracted by a full-fledged Nationalist offensive meant that the warlords had to act.

Now was the time for the application of pressure on all fronts.

Of course, getting that moron Chancellor Heegon Wu to endorse any kind of major offensive would be a challenge. Not with the Commonwealth pulling the strings from behind the scenes. While the Commonwealth had recognized the Republic as the legal government of Zengrav, Liu Shao knew that they quite enjoyed the current situation in Zengrav. It was out of this maelstrom of chaos that they could exert the most influence. A united and industrialized Zengrav wasn't just a threat to the Commonwealth but to the balance of power of the entire world.

It didn’t mean the situation was hopeless. Liu Shao had spent years building allies within the Zengravian Republican Party and across Republican territory, having helped finance a number of them.

Money bought influence and he intended to use it like a club tonight.

Carefully worded messages by secure couriers had been sent across Zang – Quin, requesting private meetings during the gala at the Red Lotus Hotel.

One such message had been sent to his old friend and colleague, Governor Xiong. If there was anyone that Liu Shao could trust on the Republican side, it would be him.

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The city of Zang - Quin stretched out before Shao like a cancerous tumor. Everywhere one looked you could find the bright lights, the towering buildings financed by the Commonwealth, airships gliding through the sky, followed by the growl of motor cars.

It was also a place of crushing poverty if you lacked the money. The homeless lurked in the dark corners, moved on by hamfisted policeman. Prostitutes and hawkers alike beckoned, the hardened citizenry already so used to ignoring them.

Yet the building infront of him was the perfect metaphor for the state of the Republic.

The Red Lotus Hotel was opulent as it was decadent. Yet it was painted over rust, a sick man that didn't realize he was dying.

There was no specter of war here.

The only massive booms that lighted the night sky here wasn't from mortars and artillery shells but fireworks that projected an atmosphere of peace and prosperity.

Nothing could be further from the truth, it was a fantasy.

Liu Shao entered, a short pudgy herald announcing his presence. '' The Esteemed Governor - General of Haidan, His Excellency, Liu Shao. ''

A few turned to acknowledge his presence, lifting half filled champagne glasses. Liu Shao surveyed the crowd, trying to decide who would be the easiest ear to bend.

The army of valets, the constant flow of liquor, and the booming cackle of Chancellor Heegon Wu cut through the din of conversation like a knife through butter. Liu Shao had begun his rounds, working the room, quietly bending an ear here and there. While Heegon Wu boasted to his clique, Shao was lobbying to build an army of support from those warlords he could approach at the party.

Shao had always styled himself as a politician more than a soldier. He had spent his life going to parties such as this and building a web of information on the dirty secrets of the men who filled this room.

Intrigue was its own form of combat and Liu Shao was a master.

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With that the two soldiers marched off. They were dressed in communist garb, the red star and every other marker about their person. They wore balaclavas or bandanas with goggles, and dyed what little of their skin was exposed to view to be coloured more akin to typical Mingans and Quin. Their task was a complex one, but they were Khiberian riflemen and prepared for any sort of task. Their collective job here was to set up a false flag attack upon the republicans and communists for either to think that they were betrayed. They had gotten south on the Brass Engines and now they were doing their work. At similar times various villages, military outposts, and ordinary people passing on roads would be assaulted, dozens of silent shots preceding louder volleys, and ideological screams be they communist towards the republicans, or capitalist towards the reds. To finalize the action, a series of rockets - crude things that were little more than fireworks that would probably inflict little to no casualties but effective for their purpose - would be deployed on the closest approximation the Khaganate knew for both parties control of ideology. The missiles would fly to either side, the direction obvious. Combined with reports of various raids and attacks from the soon to be enemies, they had little uncertainty that hostilities would begin. In the new ideological struggle they were fully aware that thousands, maybe millions would die....

....But why should they care?

So they burned the last village in their allotted time frame, and ran north. Just as they stealthily returned back to their side's lines they would hear the first rockets flying side to side, igniting the sparks of a new war....

---

In the North, the Khagan himself was going to lead, unlike the South-front where he delegated the task to Lord-Militant and Lord-Intellectual. Long had his army been marching, but neither horse nor man tired fed a constant supply of what Lord-Scientific called "Perkozine." Yet another thing conjured up in the mad-labs of Kuorno, it was hastily tested on captured enemy foreigners, who after showing satisfactory results were slowly run across a sawmill's spinning blade over the span of hours.

With him, the Bronzen horde marched to the enemy.

Oziyltomor Simerk knelt silently before the altar, appreciating the heavy incense of smoke hanging in the air as he took the moment to empty his mind. He was not a Count, nor an officer of the Heavenly Imperial Army. At least not now. Now he was but a pious man observing his duties to his ancestors, as any other Minga worth his braid.

With easy movements he took the bowl of fermented horse milk and placed it upon the gilded altar, taking care not to spill the liquid upon the blue silk covering its top. Mouthing silent prayers as he placed a second bowl, this time filled with dried grain, besides the milk. His father's photograph watched imperiously from the center of the headboard, surrounded by photos and engravings of his mother and siblings. This was his own personal altar, confined to his own quarters and solely for his own use. But even then, the former Lady Simerk had raged when she learned that a concubine was being honored besides her husband in her own (former) bedroom. But there was nothing she could do. If the Count wanted to honor his parents then there was nothing to stop him from doing so. And if said mother happened to be a concubine instead of his own lawful wife, then maybe it was the Lady's own fault for not being cunning enough to get her own children to inherit the title despite all the advantages she got over the competition.

Sure, Oziyltomor's ascension wasn't entirely her fault. After all, it was only one of her sons that fell prey to foreign degeneracy. But the Count had enjoyed taunting his father's wife whenever she got too uppity for his tastes. Just a little payback for all that she had made him suffer through during his childhood. He was actually kinda disappointed she had chosen to return to her brother's estates in the west. Her growing despair had been so very pleasant to watch. But it was for the best, one less opponent to challenge his authority within his own lands. He had enough enemies outside of it as it were. Populist scum giving the masses ideas about rising against the rightful order of affairs while bending over to greedy foreigners, ossified old pricks claiming to have the Empire's best interest of the Empire in mind even as they led it to ruin and a sect of murderers hellbent on destroying the very identity of the nation to honor a cankerous, degenerate ideology from beyond the seas.

He shook the thoughts away. This was not the time for that. Oziyltomor returned to paying his respects, following protocol to the letter as he made his prayers and offered tribute to the altar. All said, that exercise took the better part of the morning and by the time the Count was done with his spiritual duties it was already time to meet his subordinates.

Sparing one last glance towards his mother's photograph, the Count strode off the small tent, putting on his coat and cap as he did so. The guards deployed outside saluted as the Count passed through them, heading for the command tent. The officers inside saluted in unison when Ozilytomor entered, taking his place along the central table holding the map.

"We've received more reports of Nationalist advances, Your Excellency." Colonel Tartu Zamir started. "Another couple of forts was overrun during the night. The Northern Army continues to prove itself unable to stand up to the rebels."

"As expected." The Count grumbled. "How far along has our vanguard advanced?"

"The advanced elements of the Windrider and Stormrider divisions have gotten a few miles from the river but the rebel forces were too strong to risk a confrontation." Zamir replied, pointing to the map. "The bulk of their strength is still out of position to risk a full engagement."

"Their orders remain the same." The Count spoke, toying with one of the army markers. "Attacking now would only give them the chance to fight our forces piecemeal. Make sure to remind them of that." He placed the marker back in position. "What about our aircraft? Are they in position?"

"We've had some hold ups with transport, Your Excellency." Another officer spoke up hesitantly, averting the Count's eyes. "But it has been dealt with. We should be launching the first flights in a few days...and the local airfields should be getting the new anti-aircraft artillery by the end of the week." She added, unprompted.

The Count snorted at that. Of course they would be getting it. The bastard of a Countess ruling this fief had been specially obstructive when it came to allowing the White Bird Host basing and marching rights. Even as the rebel forces approached from the north almost without opposition, Count Simerk had been forced to bribe that beady-eyed beast in bullion and materiel. The worst part was that he couldn't do anything about it. The Empire needed all its forces focused on the greater threat. But if she dared to withhold her own troops and let better men bleed in her own lands, there would be hell to pay.

"Have the Countess' troops started moving?" He asked, already dreading the answer.

"She claims that since her best troops marched with the Northern Army, Your Excellency. She has been stretched thin to protect her fief and that her new recruits aren't ready yet. Likewise, she continues to request more supplies" Zamir replied, frustrated tone making clear his opinion on the matter, passing his Lord a bundle of communiques. "That said, her conscripts have joined Windrider and Stormrider in the planned secondary and tertiary lines and have started entrenching work."

Of course, expecting something different had been too much to hope for. Still, the Count could accept that these excuses weren't entirely unfounded. And keeping green troops out of the way of the rebel hammer, while preparing their fallback positions would allow better trained units to focus on weathering the rebel storm and blunting their attack. Still, the Countess was holding out on them. Oziyltomor was sure of it. Woe to her, if so. These were her lands, and if the rebels forced them out of Deisal entirely, then the Count would make sure that blame would fall on the right shoulders.

"Any reports from the County that needs my immediate attention?" Oziyltomor asked as he pocketed the communiques.

"Nose so far, Your Excellency. Everything going as planned."

"And what about the 19th?" Oziyltomor prompted.

"No trouble either, Your Excellency. It seems the presence of soldiers, even the green recruits of the 19th, has been enough to dissuade our local allies from harassing our supply lines." Zamir declared proudly.

The Count nodded, running a mental checklist on other pressing issues that had yet to be discussed. That would be their last chance at doing so before moving closer to the frontlines and taking up the challenge of stopping the rebel advance and salvaging what was left of the Northern Army.

Yang Huojin stepped into the imperial throne room without a hair out of place. His formal uniform was immaculately pressed, and the short cape that hung from it had the sheen of pure silk. The brilliant yellows and reds of the cape stood out in stark contrast with the almost black green of the uniform, broken up only by the gold of the buttons and his rank insignia.

Major General Count Yang Huojin. How it must burn in the hearts of so many of the people present. They hated him, as he hated them. The generals who had conferred his new rank on him had done so with fury in their eyes and through all but clenched teeth. But they had no choice in the matter, lest they risk their own positions.

It was tradition in the army for the children of nobility to be gifted a promotion alongside their ascensions, and tradition was everything to the nobility. It was the foundation of their power, and they could not flaunt it. Not even for him. To do so would court ruin, as the peasants that favored him would ensure word got out, and that would start to create some very uncomfortable questions. Ones the nobles did not need to answer at so delicate a time.

And so they had bitten back their refusals, and handed him the Imperial Commision and the accoutrements of his new office. The silver handled sword inlaid with jade that hung at his hip as a symbol of his elevation by the emperor, and the small golden dragon pins at his throat that was the mark of his new rank. Huojin forced himself to hold back a vicious smile that wanted to break out at all the surly faces around him as the guards announced him and his guests.

Lian was as resplendent as ever, forgoing his military uniform for the flowing robes with short sleeves that were all the rage in court these days. Robes that were just coincidentally in Huojin’s colors. To remind everyone to whom his loyalty lay. His long hair was pulled up for the evening, fastened with a pin cunningly fashioned out of silver in the shape of an intertwined dragon and phoenix. A not so subtle show of loyalty to the imperial throne.

And on his other side walked Lady Yanshe Wai, her arm clasped in his own. She also was dressed in the fashion of the court, through in the style of the more conservative ladies of the court. A full length gown with a high neck swooping up into a collar that reached up to her ears. Her dress was in a more muted silver-green, as was her various accessories. All save one. The eyepatch she wore to hide the mutilation given her by her one time husband was a brilliant scarlett that stood out against the pale makeup she wore.

The three of them stepped into the room and the attendants went back to their conversations, only a few still occasionally turning to stare at the new party. Lian soon peeled off to go and talk with a few acquaintances and mingle. He would go and do what he did best. Talk, and laugh, and drink, and make merry. And by the time the night was over, a few more of these stuffy nobles and decrepit generals would begin to see things Huojin’s way.

Huojin himself strode carelessly forward, ignoring the crowds. When he reached the other end of the room he did not break stride when Wai released his arm, and instead climbed the first few stairs towards the throne, stopping when the young boy’s guards began to shift. Instead he turned to the boy’s steward that stood there, looking perplexed.

Huojin removed the package that had been held under his arm since he entered and handed it to the man as he spoke, his voice carrying through the hall that was once more quiet and focused on him.

“Steward Caijo, I present to you a gift for his Imperial Majesty, on the glorious occasion of his eighth birthday. I gift to him tokens of my victories in his name against the traitors to the south. The sword of an enemy general given to me in his surrender, and the banner of the army who attempted to invade the imperial province of Delraat which I crushed only thanks to the aid of the common people of those lands, moved to fight by their love for our Heavenly Emperor. It is from them also I bring these gifts.”

With his little speech done, he turned from the steward back up the stairs, to where the child emperor sat. So young, but clearly his ‘uncle’ had managed to get a few lessons to stick, because even this breach of tradition had not gotten him to show an emotion. Then Huojin lowered himself to his knees and placed his forehead against the stairs in a reverential bow to the throne. Then he stood, turned, and descended back to the floor, reclaiming Wei’s arm as he strolled back among the audience.

There were a lot more people who kept their eyes on him now, as the party resumed. He lightly pulled his partner with him towards where people were dancing, ignoring them. He stepped out onto the dancefloor and swept Wei with him as he joined the coordinated steps of the dance. The music would hide their conversation.

“So, do you think it will work?”

“I have no doubt the emperor will remember you. Beyond that I have no insight into how the child will act. As I have reportedly told you general.”

He chuckled light despite her icy tones. One did not work with Lady Yanshe Wai long if one was unable to deal with that voice. And he was prepared to deal with any voice for the best intelligence operative there was.

“Perhaps, but I think he is a young boy. And young boys enjoy making sport of war. Gifts from a real battlefield will undoubtedly be exciting to him. I have no doubt the old warhorse has been keeping him sheltered from it, so any contact will keep him interested.”

“If you say so general.”

“I do. Now, tell me what you see out of that eye of yours.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Aiyang is talking with Minister Sheng. The Minister oversees various aspects of the logistics network, so you will need his consent for your planned expansion in the south. It is likely ht will be able to gain the man’s friendship, it is widely rumored that he is fond of drink and men with long hair.”

“Good. What else.”

Generals Merin and Tsuywo are talking about you. They are likely to move up the timetable of their assassination attempt.”

“Make sure to inform Jun when we return so he can deal with it.”

“Yes general.”

The two lapsed into mostly silence after that, with Wei muttering insights into his ear as they danced. Eventually the song ended and they seperated. Wei walked off to meet up with several “friends”. Huojin knew them to be contacts in her network that had infiltrated the entire Imperial Court long before he had met the woman who would become his spymaster.

The Minga nobility were not on the whole bad to their wives. On the whole Minga women tended to be far more liberated than those of other ethnicities and nations. But they were rarely given equal standing with the men, and enough were mistreated by husbands, brothers, and fathers that a mind as sharp as Wei’s could peel them away and purchase their loyalty. And so a network was born. One that had saved his life twice so far.

Wei had come to him shortly before his ascension. It had been she who had warned him of assassins that had targeted his family, allowed him to save his sister’s life. She had warned of other attempts since then, on him. It had taken him months before he had learned why she had come forward and signed on with his movement.

She was possibly the only person in this room that hated the ruling nobility more than he did.

With a mind like hers, had she been born a man she could have had the nation eating out of the palm of her hand. Instead, she had been brutally mistreated by her father and then married off to a husband that proceed to be even worse. The damage to her eye was only the worst of the injuries he had given her before his ‘accident’. And even now, the lady of a modest estate not far from the Imperial Palace, the child of a family in good standing, and she was still looked down upon.

It was no wonder she had chosen to support a movement that aimed to tear down this order. And as she joined Lian in mingling he could almost see his web of allies grow, slowly pushing against the bulwark of those who hated him. This time, he didn’t bother to hide the grin that spread over his face.

~~~~

Huojin rode hard, his horse thundering along beneath him, the sound of it’s hooves drowned out in the roar of machines and the crash of all the other horses around him. This detachment had been riding since dawn, stopping only to change horses and allow vehicles to cool down before being refueled for the next leg of their journey.

A week ago, news had reached him that the Nationalists had managed the impossible. With the aid of their damned foreign allies they had broken the cordon at Saraat and swept up the Norther Army in a crushing retreat. By days end he had already begun to journey to reinforce them with the fastest of his forces. The light armored divisions, cavalry, and motorized forces had raced through the countryside to get here.

That morning they had received the latest dispatch. The army were trapped in the Delsai river region, bogged down by swampland and being shelled from their own fallen fortresses. Almost all of the warlords had suddenly found themselves busy elsewhere, unwilling to risk trying to save the men they had chosen to abandon. From the reports Wei had sent him, it was likely his only backup Count Simerk, who was closer to the battlefield. Simerk was thankfully among the number of reasonable warlords, and would likely not turn away Huojin’s help.

He had already sent off a message to the count informing him of presence and requesting permission to base his aircraft out of the airstrips he was constructing in exchange for several units of troops to help guard them.

He prayed to the ancestors the man said yes. He needed those strips so the planes would have somewhere near the battlefront to land and refuel when they got here along with the rest of his army. Colonel Cai had been left behind, to the man's consternation, and ordered to follow along behind once he had prepared the army, and given instructions to not rush so that it would arrive fresh and ready. Huojin would simply need to rely on his tired faster units to hold out till them.

He had poured over the maps and what reports on the enemy they had been able to get, and it was a grim situation. But hopefully his planning would not come to nothing, and he would be able to at least save some of this army. This disaster was bad enough without the deaths of so many loyal soldiers to go along with it.

I most certainly will not.

Laureate-General Hyeun Tae-Kyeung stood patiently among the roaring crowd, near to the back beside his Chief of Staff, his personal Adjutant and the Lavanian Tribune. Brigadier General Ngoi-Hui stood to his right with a frown and a furrowed brow marring his normal visage; it was clear that even his high spirits had trouble dealing with the current situation. Back to his left, Colonel Kesor remained placid and stern in face with a clipboard pinned tightly to his uniformed torso, ready for use.

The odd man out in multiple perspectives, Tribune Lucius Tibero grinned broadly. A sneer had formed across his aquiline features, no doubt taking a sick pleasure out of the ravings of the Nationalist High Command. He was no fascist, even if he thrived in the world, but the foreigner did have an undoubtedly sick sense of humor. A light chuckle escaped his lips as his gaze turned to read the emotions written across Hyeun's face.

"What's the matter, General? Something you ate?"

The Tribune snickered under his breath, flashing his smile towards Hyeun while his emerald green eyes bore deeply into him. They had enjoyed each other's company, for the most part, with the Tribune sharing many of the same interests and hobbies as Hyeun, but when it came to matters of Zengrav the Laureate-General found it difficult to urge his companion to sympathy. For Lucius, this was just more of the same he had experienced in his own country; manic leaders ranting about lopping off heads and killing all before them. It was just in a different country and a new language to spice it up.

"I swear, Lucius, these men would rather sate their desires than actually claim victory; the fools have forgotten how close we came to obliteration and that we stand here now only because of Lavania. It is short sighted and absentminded."

Lucius offered a poorly faked image of empathy across his face before his sneer returned. His lips were scarred, with circular marks running parallel to each other on either side of his mouth. It was a punishment in some Lavanian units, especially those from the coast, where troopers who spoke to often or in ways that displeased their commanding officers had their lips sewn shut. This would remain unchanged until such time as their voices were forgotten and further punishments came when they weren't responding to verbal commands with affirmatives. Lucius had imparted the story of his father, a Legatus at the time, punishing him in such a manner for the vainglorious act of referring to him as father; when at war he was Legatus or nothing and Lucius learned his lesson swiftly.

"I must agree with you, General," came the more quiet response of Ngoi-Hui, his distaste having tugged back his lip in an ugly grimace, "It is as if some of them are fighting the Royalists simply to replace them as the new nobility."

"Would that it would be so sooner," quipped Lucius as he cleaned nails gingerly, "so that we could simply handle them ourselves. The Primus Populare has no interest in fawning oligarchs who play at war. I admire their fervor though; I imagine I might only find a more humorous lot in the Imperial Throne Room. At least between the boy and his Iron Fa-"

"Enough."

Lucius snickered again, wolfishly smiling towards Hyeun before shrugging innocently, his face suddenly a mask of obliviousness. As the cheering finally began to die down Lucius prowled off into the crowd as he often did, excited to find some manner of pleasure to take from the gathering. Ngoi-Hui saluted his commander and walked his separate way as well, making a beeline for one particular officer he was often known to cajole with. The two had served alongside each other in an earlier posting and had only learned relatively recently, in Seraat just before the loss of the city, that they had both coincidentally joined the Nationalists in unrelated actions. Kesor, Hyeun's Adjutant, remained slightly off to the side as his General's second shadow. With his posse now dispersed Hyeun made his move towards the seat at which Yesui sat. He would have words with her and they HAD to happen now.

She looked the part of a dictatorial tyrant, he had to admit; the facepaint and makeup had done little or even the opposite of reducing her frightening appearance and her slumped position made her look brooding and ferocious. As he closed the distance to her position at the head of the ruined church he mused on the fitting chamber in which this sad company was found. Decrepit, ruined by war, and actively falling apart from poor construction and its faulty foundations; an unfortunate picture to paint but one no less accurate for its content.

Hyeun nodded to several officers and other Nationalist warlords he knew to be friendly or at least generally amenable to him and ignored those who scowled his way while muttering things under their breath. At last he closed to the slightly raised dias and bowed before rising and saluting in a clean but ultimately tired gesture.

"Great Leader," he intoned, echoing the title by which they had referred to her earlier, "I would speak with you in regards to our upcoming offensive. It is my desire to gain your approval and blessing for a change in tactical dispositions and general orders for all those commanders involved. Given even but a minute, Great Leader, and I assure you I could convince you of my plan's rectitude."



The rumble of the engines was deafening.

Wind whipped around the sun-baked airstrip outside of Daozhi kicking up dust devils and throwing about the refuse of an active military base. The airstrip was a massive undertaking that had taken much of the Winter Reconstruction to get fully up and running but it had been worth every moment of it. Multiple prefab hangars dotted the landscape in tight, compact rows and barracks for the innumerable crewmen and pilots sat in organized squares beside the hangars of their aircraft. The fields were lined with aircraft, the freshly upgraded Shengli monoplanes, and just above the swarm of Airships only increased in density.

In the command and control center of the base, standing inside the control tower directing all of the going-ons of the base, stood the Laureate-General with his arms crossed behind his back patiently. He watched with grim satisfaction as he saw the next set of Di-Vu airboats loaded with a platoon's worth of Raider Marines take to the sky. Off to the right, at the widened and thoroughly flattened edge of the airstrip, large logistical craft were loaded with light armor, entire companies of Aeromarine grunts, and all the ammunition they would need for this great undertaking.

The plan had been underway for months, partially devised by Hyeun, and now the fruits of all that labor could be seen ripe for harvest. By now the majority of the airships were underway with the very last vestiges of the force being prepped for the attack on Delsai being loaded. The last two days had been spent getting the craft loaded and into the air, ready and waiting for the attack. Now all that was left on the ground in considerable number were the fighters and dive-bombers that would herald the attack to come, ready to launch as soon as the order was given. A pleasing sight, to be sure, and one a long time coming. Many of these troops had been present at Seraat, having escaped due in large part to the Laureate-General's daring breakout, and the chance to give back to the Royalists who had killed many of their friends and comrades was a tantalizing opportunity. Soon the dead could be truly put to rest knowing they had been avenged.

"So, what do you think? Shall we find success?"

Hyeun turned to look towards his friend and confidante, Major General Tse Tak-Sohng, to adequately respond to him; one does not speak to respected friends without giving them ample attention. A moment of consideration passed quite visibly on his face before he nodded affirmation, his brow furrowed in determination. Tse and Hyeun had been kept busy by the Great Leader during the planning stages of the battle and now at last they would see their plan in action; ideally, as a success.

"We shall not fail. That I am sure," uttered Hyeun almost breathlessly, exhaustion tinging his voice, "And within the week the so-called Great Northern Army will have surrendered. Let us hope they see reason and surrender to us before our Great Leader's forces put them to the sword. Such a waste of life . . . "

"Aye."

The tone was somber for the moment as the two considered the possibility that the enemy would refuse such overtures; these were professional troops who, even when desperate, could prove more loyal to the Emperor than to their own common sense. Particularly the noble officers, Hyeun thought. Just as he was about to continue the clanging of metal-shod boots on the gantry caught his attention. Colonel Naraanbatar Batbayar stomped up the steps before performing a neat if quick salute before lowering his hand and placing his cap right back onto his head. His mustache bristled as if, by a mind of its own, it willed him to action; the Minga/Bingal man was not known for inaction and the fight in him burned brightly in his eyes.

"Generals. Sir, reporting as ordered, sir," he grunted, the edge of his lips hidden under his mustache starting to show a tinge of a smile, "Pleased to report that the Raiders are loaded and prepared; my boys are ready for anything you have for them, General."

"Good. Very good. See to it you are on the next airship out, I'll need you on the forefront of this attack. We undoubtedly expect heavy resistance from the enemy and your raiders may be necessary for what I aim to do. You have your orders, Colonel; I shall contact you over radio when the mission is ago."

"Aye sir; will there be anything else?"

Hyeun smiled then, a full smile without any hint of grimness or distaste. In this moment he would show his fellow Nationalists the righteousness of the Zhenxiang Jundui's methods and, hopefully, draw them towards his point of view. He could claim a victory here well beyond that of destroying armies. It would be here, in Delsai, that the Laureate-General intended to claim hearts and minds.

"Save them all, Colonel."

The cadre of the 12^th army stood at the back of the ruined temple. Subutai was dressed in plan battle fatigues of his army. It's only adornments were a larger than average unit patch on his left shoulder, a stylized roaring dragon holding a sword in its claws and patch of the flag of the 12^th over his heart. He wore no rank pins only the sword and pistol at his sides made it clear he wasn't a common foot soldier who'd wander in lost. Next to him Xiao struck a far more impressive figure. With half a foot of height on his commander, wearing the combat uniform of the Iron Dragons (minus of course the plate armor), his captain's pins polished and his greatsword across his back he simply draw the eye. Subutai preferred it that way. It was a ruse they had used often when they served in the imperial army. The large boisterous Xiao would be the focus of attention while Subutai would fix some trouble or another. That had covered a gambit of situations over the years. From putting back a major's seal after borrowing it make sure their 72 hour furloughs were in order to commandeering a rather fine bottle of brandy at a bar that had been far to expensive for mere sergeants. They had been summoned from the front lines tfor this strategy meeting and Subutai saw no reason to bring attention to him self without cause.

He had not seen Yusai since before the defeat at Saraat and what he saw now filled him with rage and pity. Their "Great Leader" seamed little more than a husk, painted and dressed up to look the part of a strong, vigorous warrior. Then she spoke, it was hard to tell if the slurring was due to the injuries received from her torture of from whatever drugs she was taking to dull the pain. The words she spoke held no surprises for Subutai he'd heard them before every offensive he'd taken part in. He clapped perfunctorily while the others hooted and hollered their crass, blinkered agreement. Xiao leaned over to him and muttered. "Are we to behead them as well?"

"The biggest pyramid wins." Subutai said wryly. During the minga's conquest they had often stacked the heads of those they killed in pyramids and then covered them in pitch to slow their decomposition as testiments to their might. "Some of these fools will make a game of it mark my words."
"We'll have to show them how well the White Dragon can play then." The large captain grinned.
"I think not."
"No? Ancestors, that means you've got something worse planned don't you."
"Possibly."
"You want to share with the rest of the class?"
"Not particularly."
"Why?"
"You'll object to it, and we're doing it anyway."
Xiao's shoulders slumped. "Fine. Then lets talk about something you won't like. You need an actual rank."
Subutai's eyes narrowed slightly, they'd had this fight 15 times in the last month. "I'm commander of the 12^th, that's the only rank I need."
"That's a title, not a rank. You lack teeth as long as your place in the command structure is fluid."
"We've been over this, I don't have the background to be an officer."
"And I do?"
"You went through that Lavanian officer course. I wasn't able to, too much to do getting the Dragons back on their feet." This was pretty much the way the argument had gone each time, minor name calling followed by huffy silence was next on the docket. But then Xiao through a curve ball.
"That's fine, I found a rank that doesn't need all that shite."
Subutai's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Really? And what rank might that be?"
"You could be a Warchief of the Bingal, there's not training required as far as I know." Xiao gave a smug smile when Subutai blanched.
"I can not simply proclaim myself a warcheif. That is a rank that that must be bestowed by clan elders."
The smile didn't falter. "We are home you do realize?, I've already sent messengers to most of the clans. If they confirm you as a Warchief recruiting will be much easier."
"You have no right." Subutai's voice was begining to rise.
Xiao shoved his pointer and index fingers into his friend's chest. "I have every right, I am blooded warrior of the Bingal, I can nominate whomever I wish as Warchief. I stand for you and so does every bingal in the white dragons. We singed the petition of our own free will."
"You fool, you gave them a complete list of targets. If any of the clans are working with the royalists they have our names and can going hunting for our families."
"shit."
"Indeed."

Subutai scanned the room needing to distract himself from the impending doom his friend may have inadvertently wrought. He saw the commander of the Aeromarine Corps sidling over towards Yusai. Whatever was about to be discussed would most likely be enlightening.

---

---

Fifth day of the week, fourth night spent without sleep. An aching leg and an aching mind kept the middle-aged man awake in the silent nights twisted embrace yet another time. Vehement to oppose the will of the medicine and its overwhelming Power over him, Jacob has refrained from using the pumps, the needles, and the pills for weeks, but it has made him none the wiser in return. It was a fruitless battle caked in vain glory of which only he, himself could acknowledge. To others, his battle against pain seemed trivial, in fact nonexisting, because they are incapable of sharing his sense of taste, his smell, and his ache.

The sun had risen for the fifth time this week, but its rays shot at his blood sprangled eyes. It would be another Vicious day to overcome, and the thought of it, made him cake in to his urges immediately. There was a war to win, a World to unite, and a people to rule! It is no easy task to act as the leader of a region, and Jacob was all too aware of its severe impacts and implications, having run it behind the scenes for a long while now.

The incompetent Count sits soullessly on the regal seat of his station merely as a visage, an illusion of authority to assure that the County of Zhaochen is actually an opponent to be reckoned with, as opposed to its divided reality. Factions vie for Control not only in the faction at large, but within every aspect of Life, there're not only royalists, but royalist zhaochen loyalists, and those who support Jacob's foreign involvement. Fortunately for him, those number the majority. Even if Jacob would not have the faith of the people behind his decisions, it is not unlikely that he'd retain the position so long as he was still breathing enough to do so, the Count is still competent enough to understand that his work needs to be done.

Jacob rose out of the far too comfortable bed, and slid his legs to the side of the bed, the sight of his stump taking the wind out of his soul each time he sees it. He edged over to the side of the bed table, and grabbed the prosthetic comfortably resting on the tableside. He attached it to his leg, and rose out of the bed, the entire process taking far too much meaningless time. He scooted over towards the medicine cabinet, and shot up on all the Essentials necessary to lead a comfortable Life for the rest of the day without fear of too much unnecessary implications, after which he clothed himself in his usual attire, one sprangled with the pride of which only the people of Geisel to attest to.

Once done, he proceeded downstairs, into the quarters of his general secretary, although now given the horrendous task of acting as defacto secretarian for all the County's business-related inquiries.

Jacob limped into the door, cane, as Always, by his trusty side. He loudly proclaimed, "Who does the nation want to kill now?", Before turning around to look at the strategic map fitted to the wall opposite of the secretary's work desk, the usual smugness tapered all over his face.

The Siege of Kaifeng began not with a direct attack on the city itself but Republican air raids on Northern railway lines and bridges that would cut Kaifeng off from the outside world. The low howl of dive bombers filled the air as Lieutenant Chen guided his bomber down at a steep angle. He could feel his breakfast threatening to secede from his stomach but he brought it under control – as he did with his aircraft.

The JL – 88 suddenly felt lighter as the five hundred pound bomb released from its underbelly went hurtling down towards the bridge. Chen saw little ant figures scrambling to get away but his real focus was on the trajectory of his bomb. The massive boom that followed and the sight of the bridge beginning to disintegrate as he pulled his aircraft up and away into the sky filled him with joy.

Six more JL – 88’s followed, pounding distant rail lines and strafing targets.

Another round of sorties would follow in a few hours to insure that no food or reinforcements got in or out of Kaifeng.

For Lieutenant Chen, one of the few ethnic Zengravian pilots flying in the Volunteer Wing, the sight of the Republicans finally beginning to advance was thrilling.

Chen tipped his wings to his squadron mates and then banked south for friendly territory to re-arm, re-fuel, and then continue the attack.

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As Republican planes pounded Royalist targets to the North, thousands of Republican troops had begun to stream towards Kaifeng. The rail lines were used to bring men, equipment, and supplies forward. Massive lumbering artillery guns had been brought up from factories in Haidan. The blue banners of the Taiyang movement flapped in the breeze hanging from the trains.

Colonel Cai Xi stepped off the rail car and took stock of the controlled chaos that was going on around him. He received the haphazard salutes of a half dozen officers that had been assembled to greet him. The troops of the 10th Infantry Division under the self-declared General Ma-Auroit after being sweetened by bribes and additional promises that Xi didn’t want to know of would be assisting in the advance.

Nevertheless, Xi found the man detestable.

Fat and slovenly with equal poor taste in women and curiously ice cream.

‘’ Colonel Xi, welcome to the front. ‘’ Auroit said with a wide sweep of his fat hands.

‘’ You’ll find that it is quite different from the restive south. Nothing but fighting men here! ‘’ The General boasted, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.

‘’ General Shao has ordered me to make an inspection of your men and report on your general state of readiness to advance. ‘’ Xi said, a subordinate stepping forward to light a cigarette for him.

He blew the resulting smoke in Auroit’s face if only to silence him for a moment.

After the fat man’s hacking cough had subsided, the pair began their tour.

Much to his shock, Xi was pleasantly surprised.

The troops were dirty as their commander but their rifles were clean, the bayonets contained no hint of rust, and the men behind the rifle knew how to use them.

Ma had made these soldiers grand promises and despite the General’s blubbering, Shao had probably come along at the right time to save this pencil pusher from a mutiny.

‘’ We start at once. ‘’

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The roar of heavy machine guns was enough to make Cai Xi’s ears bleed. Troops advanced, rifles cracking as they cleared buildings and houses. Smoke drifted in the breeze as the Royalists retreated back towards Kaifeng with the Republicans launching a slow pursuit.

Xi observed the advance from an overlooking hill.

It wasn’t just troops fleeing but civilians, some armed with little more than the clothes on their back.

As cruel as it was, it was part of the Colonel’s plan to put as much pressure on the Duke as possible.

He wanted Kaifeng hungry and cruelty was the only way to accomplish that goal.

The initial skirmishes had been a back and forth affair but when the Royalists had stiffened their resolved and fought, the Volunteer Air Wing appeared to strafe and hammer the formations on the ground.

‘’ They’re on the run. ‘’ Major Wei said smugly, raising a pair of field glasses.

‘’ For now. ‘’ Xi murmured.

The storming of Kaifeng would be much worse than these pin pricks they were inflicting on the enemy.

One Week Earlier:

"General, things are proceeding smoothly. Our troops have extended the siege lines to the west, and the Tao-The Younger, will be here within a week." Lieutenant General Hao Lin smiled as he spoke into the receiver. He actually enjoyed speaking to his commanding officer, even if through daily reports to Headquarters.

"Very well, Hao, I expect Kaifeng will fall within the next few weeks, yes?" General Zhou's voice came through the receiver deeper, and slightly crackly.

"Yes sir, we are on schedule. Truth be told, the Zengravi Democratic Front seems to be capable." He paused for a moment, "Apart from that unreliable, opportunistic, ruthless thug Ma Auriot. His men are hardly more than a rabble." He finished, making his displeasure at working with the freelance warlord of the 10th Volunteer Division known to his commander.

"Of course. I do not envy you friend, though I trust you will do your duty." The General said, and any further discussion of the matter was ended right there. Such a statement from the General was as much an order as an off-handed remark. Lieutenant General Hao Lin would do his duty, his men would do theirs, and if there is anything holy in the world Ma Auriot and his 'division' would do theirs.

"Of course, sir." Hao replied simply. "As for the upcoming days, men and supplies are expected to arrive, along with the 12th's tanks. We will put them to good use, you can rest assured of that sir. Was there anything else that needed to be discussed?" The Lieutenant General inquired professionally.

"Nothing major. I will allow you to return to your preparations. Contact me once the city has fallen, I will wish to make an inspection before we continue on the campaign. Carry on General" Zhou Jin said, hanging up the phone without a reply. Lin was not offended, this was simply how the General was, and as his second in command he could expect nothing other than for the general to be himself.

He did the same and replaced the receiver back into it's handle on the radio. Then he did as he had done all morning. He set about studying the maps of Kaifeng, and reading reports from regimental, and brigade commanders.

Earlier this week:

Bang, Bang, Bang.

Nearby pistol shots echoed through the regimental headquarters of the 4th Infantry Regiment, of the 24th Infantry Brigade. Troopers ran from cover to cover, firing off rifles, submachine guns, and shoulder mounted rocket launchers at their attackers.

"We've got Mechs attacking regimental HQ too, Major! But we're not giving an inch, and I expect you to hold your position too!" Colonel Yuan Xieufeng shouted into his radio receiver. The sounds of shoulder mounted rocket launches being fired could be heard nearby. More of the Duke-Mother's guards were assaulting his men nearby.

"Relax, Colonel, it is good for the men to be blooded before the assault." Brigadier General Chang Tian said, sauntering toward the Regimental commander. His standard issue pistol in hand. "Casualty report?" He asked casually, placing the pistol on the wooden table between the two officers.

"Yes sir, we've taken a couple dozen dead, hundred or so wounded. The real pain comes in the form of our lost vehicles. Replaceable losses, so far sir." The colonel replied, steadying himself under the eyes of his youthful commander. Brigadier General Tian was no more than 23 years old, and had already risen to prominence in the 8th RSA due to his courageous, calm, and bold actions under fire. The Colonel was nearly twice as old, but held the young man in high regard none-the-less.

"Very well, your men have things mostly under control here. I'd say we've hit them nearly as hard as they've hit us. Get word out to your company officers to reform the lines, and double watches from now on after sundown. The 17th is in position and with the support of the 27th Bomber Wing they managed to push the defenders off the outer-walls. I expect we shall do the same in the coming days once our lines are firmly established." He paused, thinking of the moments before the attack began. The roar of the mechs, the sound of rockets, and machine guns. It had all occurred at once.

"Sir?" The Colonel interrupted, noticing the thoughtful, almost detached look on his commanding officer's face. "Are you unwell?" He asked.

"No, no of course not. I was just thinking of earlier. The Duke-Mother's guards attacked using mechs." He paused for a moment as the Colonel took in the information before nodding. "But we didn't hear them." The General finished, and immediately the gears turned in the Colonel's head.

"They didn't advance out from the city!" The Colonel all but shouted, "That many mechs, we'd have heard them miles out! Well where did they come from, then?" He asked, not expecting a sure answer, as there is no way the General would be able to know that.

"No idea, but you're going to find out. Send your scouts forward to search for how they sallied that many mechs and men out of the city without going through their walls. Report to me when you find out, understood?" The general said matter-of-factly. He was all business now.

"Yes sir!" The Colonel said, giving the general a sharp salute.

The General returned his pistol to it's holster. Tian returned the salute before departing to inspect his own headquarters.

Wang Huifang grimaced and gritted her teeth as the “Wise Brother’s” lackeys dragged his accuser out of the Palace of the People. He has some nerve, throwing out the very comrades who fight and bleed for his Cause, rather than face the accusation like a grown man. Not that he hadn’t spent the better part of the day defending himself with his usual, utter incapacity for even the slightest self-criticism. She wanted to shout him down now. She wanted to punch him in his smug face. Or better yet, pick up one of the dozen Commune banners around her party and hope to wake him up to reality with a thwack from the pole. But now was not the time. Huifang would have some choice words for him, but not before she attended to more important work.

She took a deep breath, stood up from her chair, turned around, and put her hands on her hips. “Friends,” she spoke quietly but firmly. The murmurs in her party died down, and those holding the red-and-gold flags stopped waving them and shouting slogans. “We’re not going to get anywhere standing around here. There’s work to be done.”

About twenty pairs of eyes locked onto hers, but she was mostly interested in three. First, the slim, tall, clean-shaven older man in the suit and glasses. “Lifu. You’ve got to have some PAF and old Crow Society contacts around here. Not to mention I’m sure you know your way around any other Anarchist and Free Syndicalist circles. Go to their parties, one by one, and remind them what the Commune stands for. Remind them of our commitment to Internationalism, Worker Self-Management, and Union Power. See what they want and need from us, and also what they might be willing to commit to in return. They are our natural allies, after all.”

Second, the stocky, large-eyed woman in a fur coat and cap. “Sai’da. You speak more languages than any of us, and your ideas demonstrate the room we have to compromise with those who lean towards the Totalist end of the fence. I need you to reach out to the non-Quin here, especially the ones outside the circles Lifu can reach – Social Democrats, mainline Socialists, No-Labels, even National Syndicalists. Hear out their thoughts and concerns. No matter where they are, they’ve got some worry about Quin Chauvinism and probably prefer some sort of Federalism to Centralism. Make sure they understand we feel the same way. Remind them that Quin Chauvinism against the hated Minga can just as easily turn against any nationality if it’s deemed convenient “for the cause,” if not by one Party Chair then maybe by the next. That is, if we keep letting power centralize and purges go unchecked. Hell, if you think they’ll listen tell them all about the Tu’wa Autonomous Oblasts, what they’ve had to gain from Federalism and Socialist Democracy in Belzarov. I’m sure you know not to name any names or say anything that would sound incriminating, but still deliver the message.” The last part might have been unnecessary for the sharp Tu’wa Councilor, but some of the others listening could use the reminder.

Finally, the shorter man with the dark eyebrows and goatee, in similar fur garb to his wife. “Farid. You’ve already picked out any Belzarovians, and the bright-eyed students and Internationalism-Firsters who fawn over them. That’s your crowd, but you can also help your wife by taking point on anyone who would appreciate your calls to National Brotherhood among Tu’wa and other Mingalic Peoples. For some folks, your reputation for bringing out that special bond of language and culture and history that crosses national borders pulls a special chord. See if you can use it – without pandering to anything Mingalic Supremacist.” Huifang grinned, and everyone else chuckled, including Farid himself. There was, of course, no danger of anyone here endorsing that kind of thought, unless they wanted to attract an angry mob.

She let her grin settle into a natural smile. “Anyone else who feels up to it should help, if you feel up to it. I trust you all, friends. Just try to stick to what you know, listen and really hear what the other delegates have to say, and speak Truth always – but without giving our “brother” any more ammunition than he’s already got. Or at least, no more than we can’t avoid by being who we are.”

“And what about you, Foreman?” asked Sai’da with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Not like you to avoid the front line.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Huifang replied, her smile twisting wryly. “There’s a reason I’m sending you all go gather information and try to start making friends here and now, when we would do just as fine building alliances with meetings we call ourselves. While you're all making connections, I’ll be working out a proposal with the friends we already have. Something just uncontroversial enough that our Brother can’t shoot it down, just popular enough to get votes, and just enough of a challenge to make life a little more difficult for the Centralizers. A proposal on the Rights of Nationalities to Self-Determination…”

---

---

The grass was tall, its crevaces filled with mud long wetted by the blood and determination of the royalist forces. Aside from the tallest of grass, beyond the patches of forest and lakes, beyond the good of nature, war was waged. Trenches dug in the soil of the long lost dead stretched on for miles, from left to right, without end. An active front, it was declared, but had remained still for years on end. For a long time the efforts of the infamous Man of Iron, Jacob Hecke, had kept the reds in check, but now they declared that they had an answer to his multi-layered defense.

With deep blue sky, the heavens were clear, no rain or weather anomaly in sight. In the midst of the forests beyond the enemy line of trenches armoured with corpse and sand alike, there was one man who had to keep on going, whatever it took, for he had in his hands the troop movements of enemy forces, and they were not favorable. This man was Xiang Gaochen, a master amongst his people in the arts of scouting, personally acquisitioned by Jacob during a prideful mission along the riverbanks of Zengrav where he had proven vital on the conquest of regional capitals.

---

---

His breaths were heavy, long since tired out by the stampeding march he had forced himself to undertake for the betterment of his beloved nation; Zengrav stays strong, always in this mans mind. It proved a flaw and strenght both, that his beliefs remained blind, lacking sight to know the truth of the world, and the corruption within, Xiang continued his duties, never giving in. His sprint had slowed significantly when compared to the freshness of which he employed during the height of enemy activity.

It was the case, that the reds had moved their forces north, to a previously secret breaking point in Jacob Hecke's formulated defense wall. It had to be kept at low manning, to ensure the stability of the remainder of the frontline, but this proved its own weakness in time, as it would now come to prove a massive annoyance, at least if Xiang makes it to his master.

So he thought, but still he tried to keep calm. With his rifle drawn he carried on, never stopping, never resting; almost done, he could see the frontline from where he stood atop of a hill, covered in bushes and fauna.

However, he heard the rustling of enemies near. They must've seen him closing in, he thought, and hunkered down towards the ground. He clawed his way from bush to bush in silence and turtle-like speeds, so as to remained unnoticed. His suspicions proved themselves right when two reds came into sight. He instantly froze, and covered his mouth; silencing his breath. Luckily, these men were simply on a routined patrol, they never caught glimpse of his hurried motions crossing the now desolate farmlands during his journey to his present location.

He judged, correctly, that it would only take a few days travel more before he was safely across, and giving the information to his overlord.



Sitting comfortably in his chair, Jacob let loose on the syringe needle and shoved it into his arm. Pressing down on the holder, he could feel the adrenaline, joy, and actual comfort return into his system via his blood vessels. It is an addicting sensation, and one that Jacob has never let escape or flee. However, as he finished his business, turning back towards his desk with the monotone sounds of gunfire and artillery echoing and quaking their way into his bunker, it was all interrupted by the shouting words of a high ranking Geisel officer, his good friend Joachim Stahl, and his worrying words uttering themselves in the most unbelievable of fashions.

"General, important message from the Scout Corps and national spies have just been summarized! It is believed that Communist forces, headed by Qiao Gengxin, are making their way towards our fronts with severely increased military activity! He was last spotted roughly twelve days away from our stronghold at Xinan'yan."

Estimates? Jacob needed clear answers! It is impossible to prepare a proper defense unless the truth of the situation is revealed, either intentionally or not! Worried, albeit visually calm, Jacob retaliated with his own questions to the Lieutenant-General.

"Numbers? Vehicles? Troops? I need statistics, Joachim. Give me them."

"Jacob, there simply isn't enough information to give! One spy says 1200, whilst the other quadruples the amount, and that only counts for their own locations. Given population density, and given Qiao Gengxin's history, it could be anywhere from tens of thousands to a hundred thousand men; though their only advantage remains for now their secrecy."

"It would seem like the reds have come back for me to kick their stallions even further yonder. Alright. I believe I understand, you are dismissed."

"Yes, Gener-"

"Until coffee is ready."

It was time for Jacob to prepare his defenses.

---

---

---

The cheering mass of soldiers tore down the Royalist flag, before tossing in away onto the ground, violently stomping it into the blood soaked mud. Gailzri Levy stood shoulder to shoulder with Quin and Bingals, rifles still in hand, as under a loud cheering, the Twelve peoples flag was raised above the ruins of the river forts. "Oy! Lads, stand a bit closer together...yeah, just like that...one moment please..." The Lavanian journalist knees were vanishing in the mud, as he had to push away a body of a royalist soldier, to get a clear picture of the nationalist soldiers, raising the banner slowly into the sky, before it caught the first wind, proudly flying over the smoke and death below. More photos were made, as behind them, Lavanians and Gailzri worked on multiple ad-hoc bridges, while countless boats were bringing new men and supplies over the river.

They marching men, that were making their way up the steep side of the river, were passing countless bodies of slain royalists, some haven fallen in battle, yet most were captives. The order of the great leader had been clear in this regard: "Take no prisoners, show no mercy.." The Cameras of the lavanian Journalists did not record it, yet everyone could hear the screams, the shots and the sound of metal hitting flesh, before a heavy weight was tossed down the height into the water. An white shirt officer, the fabric by now deep red, would return from the side where they had gathered the remaining captives, before waving over some of the new arriving soldiers. "We need ten strong man, who can hold a blade and have no problem with blood...!" One year ago, the Nationalists had been crossing this river in fear and panic, hunted by the royalist army. The ones left behind were shown no mercy and they did remembered quite clearly..

---

---

The Duke-Mother sat like a stature in front of the microphone, her hands resting on the wooden table in front of her, as her calm voice spoke, the distant sound of artillery and explosions giving a backdrop of death and chaos.



Kurt Messar, the grim Geisel Exile with an metal plate in his cheek raised his head, as multiple of the other officals turned towards the Duke-Mother, who silenced them with a raising of her arm, calmly ordering them to sit back down. She had expected this reaction, and knew what to do..



Raising from her chair, the Duke-Mother took a deep breath, before reaching for the cup of water next to the microphone. "Tell me the truh, Messar, how long can we hold the city?" The Geisel Exile narrowed his eyes, as he scratched over the metal plate on his cheek, making a disgusting noise while doing so. "We wont be able to hold the walls, or what is left of it! Retreating into the streets will be our only option, where we will have the knowlage of the ground on our side, and the hope that they wont be able to use their firepower! The Guard and Garrison has been trained for this kind of fighting but...i cant speak for the Levy or the Milita, which we will have to raise first! All in all...without any outside help, we wont be able to hold the city for anything longer then a month..

The duke mother finished her glass, as she began to glare back at the microphone. "I see, you may leave now...all of you!" A few moments later, after the last of her advisers and personal aids had left the room, she reached for a piece of paper, preparing a message for the few that would be willing to hear it!

---

---

"..I must say i am quiet proud of you, my boy!" Patrador Milkner, the old missionary delegate of the district slowly walked along the neatly paved streets of the legation, followed the slim figure of his aid, the young Xangai. It was a sunny day, and in the humid heat of the early noon, the streets were calm, as few had gathered yet for meals or any other reasonable meetings in the buzzling heat of the capital. Half a mile away, the mighty Zang-Sea was resting in its deep blue beauty, connecting this very city to the rest of the world. "It means a lot to me, Patrador, yet i would once more ask...you have considered my offer?"

The old man grinned, as he pulled his head lower onto his face, shielding him from the sun, as the two stopped in front of a crossing, a single Arcanain Military Policeman keeping order over the minimal traffic of the few cars that were crossing through the district. "I have indeed, young Xangai, yet dont call it an offer, when in truth you are talking about an demand! You do have failed your exam to an missionary two times now, son...be honest with yourself, you wont make it a third time!" The old Patrador placed his hand onto the young Quins shoulder, before slowly shaking his head. "Maybe it is just not the path for you. The faith has many options for young men, and i am more then happy to keep you as my aid for the coming years. You are diligent, honest and most of all, able to endure my humor.." Xangais face had turned into stone, as he took the rejection with all the grace he could, trying to not let his disappointment overwhelm him. Raised in one of the many Orphanages of the Orthodox faith, he had just wished to serve the faith, yet he had lacked one thing, that made him fail the exams time and time again...the ability to speak in a way that could move people, and reach them.

Crossing another checkpoint on their way towards the Church of the rising sun, Xangai suddently stopped, as glared at the open door. "Patrador wait..." A sight left the old mans mouth, as he kept walking towards the white church, build from marble. "The decision is finale, you wont be granted another exam! I am sorry, but you have to..." Xangai rushed forward, trying to reach for the old mans robe, yet it was to late....

The first thing Xangai felt was the heat, that came towards him in the wake of the explosion that tore down the building into countless pieces of debris. Then, a wall of hot air hit him, tearing him from his feet, as he was ripped from his feet, flying backwards before colliding with something hard behind him. Gasping, Xangai glared up, staring into the sky, as the light surrounded him. "Calm...Calm my son..."

---

Screams and panic filled the district, as the Sirens roared loudly. More explosions followed, before they stormed onto the streets. They had hidden under the guise of waiter, cleaner and servants, a silver scarf now bound over their mouth and neck. "DEATH TO THE DEVILS OF THE COMMONWEALTH!" This had not been a riot sparking into little more then a massed massacre, this had been a planned and coordinated attack. All over the city checkpoints were attacked, yet no name was cried, no insignia was raised...did they fought for the emperor, the great leader or the wise older brother...or even for the republic?

Colonel Naranbaatar Batbayar strode down the gangplank and onto the battlements with the grim demeanor befitting the circumstances of his jaunt. His combat fatigues were flecked with oil from an engine that had been cracked open by small arms fire and dusted with sand and debris kicked up by the low flying air-boats. A thumbs up was all that was needed to send the Di-Vu lander up into the sky, the gunner on the deck offering a swift salute. The wind-blasted mustache of the Minga/Bingal officer twisted up at the ends in an unusual look, giving a sense of joviality that was not present at the moment. Batbayar scanned his surroundings as his troops, the ferocious Marine Raiders, scoured the battlements for the wounded to be carried to the now-erected Aid Station. To their credit the Aeromarines were not selective in whom they saved; unlike the lot of ground pounding infantry butchering the captives down in the river-valley, these men had full intent to save the men they had just been fighting.

“Colonel! What a lovely surprise!”

The heavily accented voice didn’t once catch Naranbaatar off guard and, with a slight scowl, the Colonel quickly turned to look at his new company. The Lavanian Tribune, Lucius Magnus Tibero, strode across the battlements like a prowling hyena with his pack of armored and ferocious Comintatus baying at his heels. Batbayar admitted to himself that they were the picture of intimidation, so armored that even their clanking lock-step march was more reminiscent of a light armor squadron than of an infantry platoon. Of course, he would never admit that to the Tribune.

“Tribune, I see you survived the assault,” said the Colonel with a wry smile who’s mirth was detracted from by his slight scowl, “We are all fortunate to have it be so.”

Lucius smiled broadly, as if a man entering a competition with a well-respected and highly pleasurable foe, before waggling one outstretched finger on his right hand at the side of his head in his typical fashion. It was his display, his little show that he was onto what was going on and found it evermore entertaining. As always he turned to the Comitatus on his right, the thoroughly armored foreigner completely immune to the prying eyes of others searching for his emotions, whom would always simply continue marching in a disinterested fashion. The Comitatus were not Lavanians but foreign troops under the employ of individual Lavanian officers (there was no better way to ensure loyalty of bodyguards within the Lavanian state apparatus) and they often did not share the Lavanian sense of humor with their ward. Despite this, Lucius acted as if raucous laughter followed his every word.

“Haha! Such a sardonic humor, Colonel! You and I both know that I was nowhere near the frontlines! No such reason to put a man of my stature on these battlements when there were enemies crawling about on them, is there?”
“No, certainly not,” responded Naranbaatar with a snide nose crinkle and a shake of his head, “Though your Comitatus certainly did work . . .”

Naranbaatar had seen from above while he observed the taking of the designated Fort 28. His Marine Raiders had hit a snag trying to enter the battlements with their complement of Assault Sappers having been redirected to a particularly fierce area of combat on Fort 25 just down the river. Even with the Raider’s skill and fortitude at close-quarters combat they had found the resistance at Fort 28 to be notably stubborn. The Comitatus commander, one Centurio Ulz Anzanang, had offered a contingent of his own forces to take the field. Accepting the offer, Naranbaatar had directed the heavily armored Lavanian troops to the fiercest fighting in the depths of the breached castle and the Iron Men of Lavania had proven their bloody reputation to be entirely factual. Resistant to most small arms fire and fragmentation grenades, the Comitatus had suffered no casualties and only partial damage to some of their suits while clearing the breach for the Raiders to pour in. Now, it seemed, Lucius was here to collect on the dues he did not earn.

“And it is no surprise they did; I selected them myself. Every single one of my men are born fighters, hand picked for the job.” There was a pause as a real sense of malice seemed to emanate from the Tribune as he considered one of the corpses at his feet before he looked up, his emerald green eyes flashing like reflective plates, “I am glad that they could be of assistance. You, of course, know my dedication to the Zhenxiang cause. It pleases me that even my small contingent can provide for the greater good of our most righteous campaign.”

“Of course…”



The Laureate-General peered out across the rolling hills, far-reaching steppe, and low-flowing rivers of Northern Delsai. It was open to him now, with full freedom of movement granted to him by the defeat of his most-despised Monarchist foes. The blacks had been crushed, though not in the way he had ideally wished for, and opportunities would provide themselves soon. He opened his eyes to reveal the map before him, showing off the unit dispositions across the highly stratified terrain of Northern Delsai. He was in the war-room aboard his personal craft, the corvette-turned command vessel known to by its newly christened Zengravi name, Zenlong. Staff officers went about their business to direct the growing needs of the Zhenxiang forces on the ground. Casualties needed to be removed from the frontline, deployed units needed requipping, aircraft needed refueling, and a load of prisoners needed to be hidden from view.

They had gone against the Great Leader’s direct orders. The Zhenxiang Army, along with their allies, had taken prisoners of those enemies who had surrendered to them. Nearly ten thousand men, professional troops of the Royalist enemy, had been captured and taken under Zhenxiang custody. It was not part of Kyeung’s dream for a reformed and better Zengrav to see every single one of those men who fought against him put to death and he certainly would sully his morals at the behest of any man or woman, even the Great Leader. They were supposed to be winning hearts and minds; how were they to do this if they took heads instead? His morale and ethical problems aside, it was also a waste of potential manpower. These men had fought for the Royalists and were subsequently abandoned to their fate; there were no better targets for the Jide than such men. They would be treated well, like all prisoners, and would be slowly moved to see the world as it truly was. Though nothing short of a long-term investment, it was one that the Laureate-General intended to recreate numerous times across Zengrav. What better a time than this to have a trial run?

“General, all logistics related endeavors are underway.” The voice was from Kesor Nimh-Kah, Hyeun’s personal adjutant, who waited patiently and silently off to his General’s right. “What are your orders?”

Hyeun steepled his fingers before his face in consideration, his eyes turning to slits as if to aid in his thought by keeping them from escaping. There was now much to do and much to consider. First and foremost, he would have to deal with the problem of his prisoners. The Great Leader would be incensed that he let them live and would likely seek them returned. Giving them up, of course, was out of the question; to hand them over would be even worse than putting them to death himself. He would need to find a way to obsfucate their presence has best he could from prying eyes and make it as difficult as possible to discover their identities.

“Colonel, I need you to do a service for the Zhenxiang Army and ALL of Zengrav. You shall take your staff and write up enlistment papers for all of the prisoners we took; note them down as volunteers, the lot of them. Give them Gailzri, Quin, or Jorguk names if you have to but make sure their identities are as difficult to determine as possible. I want them to appear in every way as volunteers for our glorious revolution, as they most certainly will be.”

“Aye General, I shall handle the matter personally, sir. What of the Zhenxiang? Where to next?”

“All of Zengrav.”

Western Delsai - Tenth day of Spring, 10th year after the assassination of the Emperor

---

Subutai and Xiao stood watching the clean up efforts in the wake of the recent battle. Earth movers had been brought in dig massive trenches for the royalist dead to be piled into. He'd "requistioned" 2,000 of the royalist prisoners for the task, having convinced high command that national soldiers had better things to do than clean up corpses. After three days they were nearly finished and now the chain-ganged workers were throwing the last of the remains into the pits.

As the last head bounced into the charnel trench, the royalists were ordered attention and Subutai stepped forward as if to address them. Instead he nodded to one of his sergeants and his troops sprung into action. Striking the bound prisoners with rifle butts and forcing them into the pits atop their dead. A deafening roar filled the air when the earth movers started up and began covering the screaming prisoners with dirt. The howls of the machines mixed eerily with the shrieks and wails of the damned soldiers. Subutai stood watching it all, void of expression as if the scene before him was no more interesting or moving than supervising a latrine trench being dug. Necessary but boring to behold. When the ground was once again level there was nothing left to indicate that anything of note had happened except for a half dozen stretches of freshly tilled earth.

Later that evening when Subutai sat in his tent, his dinner growing cold in front of him a voice called for permission to enter. "Come in Xiao." The big captain sat down heavily in the field chair opposite his commander. For a while they both sat there silently neither really looking at the other. Xiao would eventually break the quiet with a deep sigh. "You were right that was worse."
"It needed to happen."
"Really, why on earth did that need to happen?"
"It was a calculated display of fearsomeness. In the next few weeks word of what we did here will spread throughout the factions. They will hear that the commander of the 12^th army is cruel and brutal. An attack dog barely on the leash. I want our great leader to think the same. When she wants no no quarter given and no questions asked I want her to think of us."
Xiao started and growled at his friend. "Why do want that? We'll get picked for all the worst kind of murder missions then."
"Better us than someone who really gets off on it. We'll be able to keep it by the numbers that way. As for our enemies, I want them afraid when they hear we're coming. I want them to worry about what aweful things we might do to them. That way when we do offer them the chance to surrender they'll jump at it to avoid our ire." Subutai slumped in his chair and pulled his hands down his face in frustration. "We need this war over quickly."
Xiao shook his head slowly "I'm not sure that's possible."

The sounds of gunfire still echoed in the night air. The sky was bright with orange flashes from distance explosions. The smell of cordite filled General Chang Tian's nostrils as he strolled behind the lines at the edge of Kaifeng's western district.

"These night sorties have been effective enough lately." Colonel Xieufeng said. "Fewer plane losses this week than last, at the very least." The colonel said, pacing alongside his boss.

"For us, our dear allies have been having some trouble however." Brigadier General Tian said, stepping over the corpse of a fallen Royalist. "Half of Kaifeng is ours, mostly in tact as well. If we stay the course we can seize the rest as well." He said, no doubt thinking of the latest staff general staff meeting. The Pilots of the 27th had advised General Hao Lin to allow for indiscriminate bombing in the city center. Along with that worthless maniac Ma Auriot. Fortunately for the citizens of Kaifeng, and for the cities industry Lieutenant General Hao had turned them down in no uncertain terms.

"The Black pigs can't sustain these kinds of losses for long, sir." The Colonel said of the royalists, almost ignoring his commanding officer's comment. The Colonel had finished the estimates only a few hours before and delivered them personally. The 8th Army had suffered light casualties in all of it's engaged units. Zhan Tou's 17th Division took the brunt of the losses being at the front of the attack, and suffered nearly three-hundred men killed, wounded or captured. Included five Medium-Tank's from the 12th's Armoured's medium tank Battalion. But for every one Republican killed, a score of Royalists fell.

"Hm." Chang grunted. Preoccupied with the knowledge that the fallen royalists which scatter the rear of the now Republican lines, and the horde of captured defenders come from the untrained, and levied portions of the Royalist force. "The foreign dogs, and the real Royalist Army still lay ahead of us." The colonel nodded, true enough it was that the Royalists would let their poor, untrained, and ill-equipped citizens be the first line of defense against the two Republican Armies.

"Soon we'll find ourselves pushing into the city center, the Royalists will either toughen up or break then. I don't know about you colonel.." He paused as he jumped a top one of Mo Tao's tanks, and extended his hand down to the colonel who joined him. "But I don't expect they will break that easily." The head of a tanker popped out of the turret, no doubt wondering what idiot would disturb his few hours of sleep at this hour. He groggily noted that the two men far outranked him and begrudgingly popped back into his tank without being able to chastise the men who woke him.

"The only easy day was yesterday." The Colonel added conclusively. A prophetic statement if ever there was one.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few days earlier, near Kaifeng:

"General Zhou, news from Zang-Quin!" Shouted the orderly over the sound of the tank's roaring engines. Earlier this week Zhou had mobilized the 8th Armoured Division which had since been rushing to participate in the siege of Kaifeng. "You're going to want to read it, sir!"

"Hand it over, Soldier!" He grabbed the sheet of paper from the orderly and quickly read the newsprint words:

Zang-Quin Offensive!

Zhou Jin’s eye brows raised slightly, the news of the attack in the capital struck him as a surprise. Though, not an entirely welcome one. Zhou wished more than anyone for the foreign invaders to be removed from Zengravi soil, but the time was not right. His facial features twisted in a scowl as he finished reading the article.

“Rebellion in Zang-Quin.” He said finally, handing the paper over to another senior officer. “Some unknown elements seek to oust the Commonwealth forces from our fallen cities.” He sighed, brusquely. A goal that he surely could get behind, but the methods employed were less than savoury. “The Commonwealth will surely not like this new development.” He added. As much as he despised the Commonwealth invaders, and wanted nothing more than to see their corpses heaved into the sea after they seized the capital, he knew that until the Republic had defeated the Royalists, and established a firm hold of Zengrav, they stood no chance at removing the invader from their soil.

“General, will the Commonwealth retaliate?” A young officer on the Generals staff spoke over the engines of the idling tank.

“Of course, they will, they have to or they will appear weak. If not to show the attackers that they are the power here, they must show our neighbours as well. I expect that we shall receive news of their retaliatory efforts in the coming days.” The general shrugged as he said it. People would die, but it was not his attack that brought about their deaths. All who would read the news would know that the Commonwealth could not simply accept an attack that left their soldiers dead on foreign soil. All they simply needed to ask themselves is “Would Zengrav allow such an attack to go unpunished?” He shook his head at his own thought, “Of course not.” He whispered, though no one heard him.

He waved his hand forward in a gesture to advance, and gave the order over the Company radio for the division to continue its advance to Kaifeng. The dust clouds of the armoured vehicles, and their Armoured Infantry cohorts stretched for miles. They would link up with the rest of the 8th Army within the week, and set to finishing the siege of Kaifeng. He pushed away a pang of worry over what the Commonwealth’s next course of action may be, as for the time being Zhou and his men had more pressing concerns.

The Imperial Palace had been the jewel of Kaifeng.

Now it was little more than a smoldering ruin.

Its ornate façade crumbled under the constant barrage of heavy explosive shells and machine gun rounds, its garden’s trampled under jackboots, and hand carved furnishings used as makeshift barricades by the palace’s defenders.

Colonel Cai Xi ducked his head back, a cascade of rifle fire pounding the area where his head had just been. A Blue Guard answered with the bark of his submachine gun while a second shocktrooper stepped out from the corner to hurl a grenade down the hall and towards the drawing room. The grenade made it past an overturned table, the defenders had a moment to realize just what had clattered at their feet, a scream came before the sound of the roaring explosion cut them off.

Cai Xi moved slowly down the pockmarked hall, according to the plans he had of the palace, the throne room was coming up and resistance had been steadily growing to the final crescendo. Over the bodies the Zengravian’s advanced, bloodied but ready to continue. The brigade had taken nearly forty percent casualties between the bloody tunnel fighting and the storming of the Imperial Palace.

The Blue Blood that had been spilled had not been shed in vain, as Cai Xi stormed the Throne Room, a second company was raising the Republican flag over the palace’s battlements. Yet the prize of the Duke would continue to elude him. Cai Xi was disappointed to find naught but an empty chair defended to the death by a loyal cadre of doomed servants and life guards.

The bullet ridden bodies lay scattered throughout the room. Cai Xi stepped forward, mounting the dais to the Throne and sat.

For a moment, he allowed himself to dream.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If it was one thing that Liu Shao was good at, it was evaluating the worth of a potential investment. Kaifeng had been captured – or would be in complete Republican hands shortly. The outer districts had received damage but nothing that could not be fixed. The population had been spared and with that work force as its engine, Kaifeng could be a bastion for the Republic.

The bloom of explosions and pop of gunfire still hung in the air but the conclusion was foregone. The Republic had achieved its first victory in a decade but it hadn’t come without a caveat. Strange reports of riots in the capital had reached Shao. The President had expressly forbade him from returning, no doubt in order to ensure that the Governor General couldn’t start any trouble.

No matter who the culprit was, Shao had bigger problems. His army was tired and bloody, it would need to be re-equipped and consolidated. While the Nationalists fought the Royalists in the North, it did not mean that the Republicans would be immune to retaliation.

Perhaps the true battle for Kaifeng was just beginning.

Rinchen nodded politely as her compatriot droned on to her left - something about factories and the need for certain ores to produce some new explosive. The details of it were over her head, but she knew that this particular warlord had a penchant for wasting resources on new, experimental designs, each of which he swore would end the war in a day. She wanted no part in his next scheme, but gave him the courtesy of her attention. It didn’t do to make enemies, not in such uncertain times.

She glanced over at Wise Brother in between sentences. Whether he or one of his allies would approach her was the question of the day. She had always made clear the conditions of her support; perhaps uniquely among ideologies and cliques she was of a more mercenary mindset. Would he meet her conditions? She wasn’t sure she trusted him to. A man who would slaughter his allies once might do it again, when they were no longer of use to him.

“Madam?”

“Oh, my apologies.” She smiled at the man. “Please, do go on…”

As the man resumed his lecture, a small figure appeared in Rinchen’s field of vision, skillfully maneuvering towards her through the shifting crowds of larger and taller folk. A woman in drab military green, with no clear insignia of rank but for a single red star on her cap. In seconds, she was within feet of Rinchen.

“Comrade Fung,” Wang Huifang offered respectfully to the ever-droning warlord. She then turned to Rinchen and smiled. “Comrade Tsultrim.”

The man hesitated for a moment before replying with a perfunctory “Comrade Wang.” For another moment he seemed to contemplate resuming his lecture, but instead he turned away. “Remember! Aerial self-propelled heavy gas rocket batteries! Chemical attacks from above!” he shouted back like a parting shot, before melting back into the crowd.

A brief pause. “You arrived right in time, Comrade Wang. I was running out of excuses for why I did not want to reroute multiple trains of bitunum.”

“Huifang, please,” she replied with a smile. The Gonghui Guangtou wasn’t one for needless formality with those she considered friends, at least not once more uncertain characters had left the conversation. “And glad to be of service. I assume I didn’t miss out on Red Zengrav’s key to victory?”

“The details elude me, but it seems he wanted to construct a rocket capable of reaching Kaifeng. Choden would have a fit if I said yes.”

Huifang chuckled. “Projects for the next generation of Communists, perhaps? I do have to admire the man’s imagination…” her grin faded into a smile, and her tone grew a little more serious, “we’ll need that kind of thinking when we don’t all have to be soldiers and generals.” She sighed, “To be honest, I’m here with that time in mind. To talk about the society we are trying to build, and how to protect it from those who would rule by fear.” She didn’t need to name any names to make it clear who she was talking about. “To be fair, it’s to safeguard us here and now too.”

“You’re about to propose something risky.” Rinchen crossed her arms. “Well? Out with it.”

“A proposal on the Rights of Nationalities to Self-Determination,” Huifang answered, allowing her smile to return. “Something core to the Communist cause, and important to most of the delegates here. Not just us minority-nationals, but any Quin with minority constituents who isn’t an outright national-chauvinist or doctrinaire Holtist. But it hasn’t been put in writing yet, and I think we should change that today.”

At times like this Rinchen had to rely on her knowledge of people, as the minutiae of communist policy escaped her. What Huifang said was true, obvious even. But proposing it now? Here? She was up to something. Based on her personality, it was probably something that would annoy their dear Elder Brother. “And you want my support, I assume?” She pointed out. “I suppose it is a good policy, but not one that’s particularly urgent right now. Surely we should be focusing on pushing north, what with the blacks distracted.”

Huifang’s smile shrunk, and her eyes darted briefly into a corner before returning to Rinchen. “I wish things were that simple. I wish we could just focus on the campaign.” She paused and leaned forward. “Let me be blunt,” she spoke quietly. “You know the Brother’s views on questions of local autonomy, and on Minga national rights. You know he could turn those questions just as easily against you or me as anyone he’s already “purged,” or against any nationality that he decides is “reactionary by nature.” And you know as well as me that he hasn’t reached the limit of how low he’ll stoop to to impose those views.”

Huifang took a deep breath. “This may be the last Party Congress where we can even count on a majority in favor of our national rights. But even if it isn’t, we rebels and rabble-rousers know that if we don’t stick together today, we can’t count on having anyone to stick to tomorrow. I know you don’t feel the pressure now. But if we don’t build *some* kind of coalition now, however loose, in favor of a basic level of Autonomism - Who will you count on when the Quin Chauvinist Brother finally does start to chip away at Dhanga self-determination? Would you rather go guerilla again then, alone, against both the Reds and all our current enemies? Or would you rather have allies? Perhaps cut him off in the halls of Congress, and prevent the issue from coming to gunfire at all? Personally, between civil war, total obedience, or some kind of legal coalition while we can still make one I’m going with the third option.”

“You won’t have a legal coalition against a man like that. You’re drawing lines in the sand, and he’ll certainly take it as a challenge.” She glanced around at the other warlords and delegates. Some she knew personally, many by reputation, and a few not at all. “I don’t necessarily disagree with your goal, but you must not be hasty, Huifang. How much support do you have?”

Huifang gently moved her head from side to side, eyes shifting to scan for potential eavesdroppers. Then, she leaned in ever so slightly further towards Rinchen.

“The Commune can always depend on its share of influence in Congress, like your own party,” she whispered. “We are also in contact with other factions of importance. I’m convinced that we can redeem our cause” - the Society of Redemption, a strong and quickly-growing army under the Minga Hamutka Tzun, short only on exactly what the Commune had to offer: supplies and guarantees of ethnic self-determination - “and that our combined forces will darken the sky.” The Black Battalion of Zong, an anarchist city-state’s army brimming with eager foreign volunteers and directed by the brilliant tactician (and unfortunate opium addict) Do Hang. “I’m also very hopeful that, with dialogue and understanding, we will see tomorrow’s dawn*.” The Syndicalist Party of Tomorrow, a large and heavily-armed anti-Totalist splinter from the Red Turbans lead by Guo Yuhan, considered the Third Great Revolutionary (after the Red Father and Wise Brother). His opposition to current Red leadership and its ideology were no secret and went beyond even Wang’s open critiques of the Purges.

All the factions to which Huifang alluded had representation at the Congress, though among their leaders only Hamutka Tzun was personally present. Certainly, by now, all had been reached by Huifang’s associates.

But she wasn’t finished. “Outside of these halls, in the city and the towns and the villages - there are some friends and a dozen times their number in supporters who would join us when the Wise stops looking Strong.” That was to say, Huifang had contacts in Siban-Ta itself and other settlements in the region, an opposition that might go public given a moment of failure or weakness from Reg-Ahn.

A brief pause of consideration. “Very well. You’ll have my support as well. What is our plan of operation?”

“For now, the written proposal,” Huifang reiterated. “Something that even the Brother can’t condemn publicly without losing face, but also something that will limit his power. And something he will probably violate, as he has already, but after this -if we catch him- it will be a documented violation of a Party statute.” She smiled knowingly. “Like you said, a line in the sand.

“From there, we will have to focus on making friends. I’ve told you about my contacts, and I’m sure you have and can make more of your own. I still hope that, with enough support and the right conditions, we can work this out within the Party. But either way, we can’t go alone.”

“We mustn’t overcommit and tip our hand too soon.” Tsultrim decided. “Our Elder Brother is no fool. He will be expecting some move in congress; I suspect he is prepared for it. He will try to bait you into open defiance and watch for who aligns against him. Keep your aces off the table” - by which she meant, keep some of their important supporters off the proposal and in the background - “and avoid a confrontation.”

Wang Huifang considered her comrade’s words with eyes narrowed in thought. Personally, she was itching for a showdown. But Rinchen had a point. “Fair enough. My reputation’s already set and made, but no need to drag others into it before they’re ready. We’ll found our front in one moment, and reveal it in another.”

“I’ll sign as well. My ‘mercenary’ nature is already well known. No one will be surprised to see me pushing for ethnic autonomy.”

“I would hope no one would be surprised to see anyone push for national self-determination in a Party Congress. But that’s not where the Party’s at.” Huifang sighed. “Anyways, let’s draft this thing before Comrade Fung comes back with another mineral request.”

__

ON THE NATIONAL QUESTION IN THE P.R. ZENGRAV

Twice No to Reactionary Patriotism, Yes to Socialist Solidarity!
- NO, the People’s Republic is not a nation-state! The Nationalists, like their Lukanian masters, enforce one language and one tradition in public life, mandating physical or social eradication of all others. The Republicans do the same more “gently” in their schools and company towns. The People’s Republic recognizes the many-nation history of Zengrav!
- NO, the People’s Republic is not an Empire! The Royalists, like their Commonwealth idols, recognize many nations – one as Master and all others as Subjects. They sort us into ranks and pit us against one another. The People’s Republic recognizes the equality of nationalities!
- YES, the People’s Republic is a free union of peoples and settlements! We recognize and oppose national oppression. We recognize the right of nationalities to self-determination. We recognize that every nation has a proletarian element to win power and a bourgeois-feudal element to overthrow.

Nationalities in the P.R. Zengrav Affirm their Rights! - We may
- Organize, on the basis of nationality, specifically against national oppression during revolution and to defend these gains post-revolution.
- Organize among comrades of other nationalities on an equal basis in all Party organs not aimed at the two purposes above.
- Conduct life – public and private, community and individual – in our native languages.
- Freely practice customs and traditions that can be reconciled with Socialism.
- Maintain – in a socialist manner – traditional means of production and survival. These include nomadic and diasporic traditions – pastoral herds, boat communities, caravans, and ancestral homes among other nationalities.
- Enjoy the absolute guarantee of the People’s Republic against pogroms, forced deportation, and forced relocation on the basis of nationality.
- Form, to enforce the above rights, self-governing districts, settlements and territories as federal member units of the P.R. Zengrav. Such units need not be territorially contiguous and may be formed by association of a single nationality, or by a coalition of nationalities.

To these ends, the People’s Republic of Zengrav provisionally establishes a Congress of Nationalities, subordinate to the Party Congress, of two representatives elected by each indigenous nationality of Zengrav.
- Recognized nations include, but are not strictly limited to : Quin, Minga, Uzra, Gailziri, Zeh, Bashur, Bingal, Jorguk, Kāzé, Tu’wa, Yaar, and Dhanga.
- Each nationality shall elect its councilors by popular vote conducted in the liberated territories of the PR Zengrav. Election of representatives shall be administered by their respective national communities and organizations.
- Individually, the councilors shall be charged with representing the interests of their respective nationality and coordinating federal organs of national-cultural life.
- Collectively, the Congress of Nationalities will lead the socialist struggle for Internationalism within the People’s Republic, opposing national chauvinism, xenophobia, lingering forms of national oppression, and infiltration of colonizer-imperialist notions of race supremacy.

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(Collaboration between AspenIvan and Talis, follow up to Part 1: https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4678510)