When first the Reiyk was birthed, in the year 1701, it had been a small regional power. One of many states to splinter off from the Great Empire of Sueben, in its infancy the Alfheiches Reiyk was notable only for the extreme society that quickly developed within it. A near fanatical devotion to the military and an obsession with war co-existed with a rigidly hierarchical culture. Soon, the military of the Reiyk swelled beyond what its size would have dictated for the time, and it began to annex its neighbors. In most of the world this was regarded as little more than an idle curiosity. The far continent, smaller and significantly less populous than its larger neighbor, had historically been divided and regarded as an undeveloped backwater. Only at its height did the Great Empire of Sueben amass enough power to be regarded as the hegemon of the continent. But its strength was fleeting, and it fell prey to the growing influence of the Aelban Empire in the south.

From its ashes the Reiyk rose in blood and flame. Before its armies fell successor state after successor state. It rose, triumphant, slowly engulfing almost the entire continent within its grasp. The Aelban Empire regarded them with contempt - they had laid low the Reiyk’s predecessor, and they would do so this upstart as well. Instead, the Aelban focused on their policy of aggressive colonization of the large subcontinent they had come to call Ehfragich. Though they never achieved the heights of power they had dreamed of, they humbled many powerful foes such as Jingguo and Akiya. At the head of formidable armies and a strong fleet, they seemed content to reign as a great power.

The armies of the Reiyk crossed the border of the large Aelban protectorate of Haneifen, seeking to complete . In response, the forces of the empire were marshalled for war. Early ironclads steamed into the coastal waters of the Reiyk. Armies of khaki clad soldiers marched in steady formation to undo the upstart.

In turn the armies of the Reiyk marched against them. Though not the equal of Aelban’s fleets, the budding navy of the Reiyk was strong enough to hold them at bay. On land - a century and a half of constant war and military conquest ensured their vast armies were well drilled and experienced. In a series of stunning military disasters, the armies of Aelban were eliminated one by one. A large swathe of the expeditionary fleet fell into the hands of the Reiyk, another of their armies marching ahead even of news of the battle. Panicked, Aelban withdrew its remaining forces, preparing to defend her more valued possessions from further aggression, and abandoning all protectorates on the continent.

So began the Reiyk’s true expansion.

In a series of battles and treaties, the armies and fleets of Aelban were pushed back inch by inch from their empire forged in blood. Many of these regions within the southern reaches of Ehfragich, though formally under the control of the Reiyk, seized this opportunity to assert their own freedom. Aelban tried to claw back its old prestige, striking out against opponents it saw as weaker, easy pickings. The Kingdom of Akiya and others fell prey to these efforts, losing its only colonies in doing so. But even so, these victories were short lived - for yet again, more of Aelban’s empire would be swallowed up. Smaller nations, too, felt the bite of the Reiyk. Though rarely did it escalate to the same level as with Aelban, more and more did the Reiyk begin to properly supplant Aelban as the preeminent power in the world. Buoyed more by sheer resources and a powerful economy than the alleged superiority of its people, the Reiyk began to style itself as the true, rightful ruler of the world. And subtly, their debates turned to what must be done with those outside of their home continent.

The Reiyk’s power grew further as industrial technology advanced further. Their population swelled further, and their conquests even more so. Soon, all of the Aelban Empire outside of their home islands had been swallowed up, or declared itself independent. In the year 1935, the stage was set, and the leadership of the Reiyk was ready.

In a move all had seen coming, yet none were truly prepared for, the armies of the Reiyk landed upon the home island of Aelban itself. Aelban, depleted, nevertheless offered fanatical resistance. War correspondents spoke of their dogged resistance in the face of impossible odds. As tank battalions rolled onwards, soldiers of Aelban would rush to bring improvised anti-tank` weapons to bear. Aid rolled in from abroad, some nations wishing to aid Aelban against this new, greater threat. Almost immediately, such aid would be exhausted in the struggle.

Aelban scored numerous bloody victories, scraping together forces of their own tanks, and captured models from the Reiyk. Though such victories only delayed the inevitable, it gave the diminished fleets of Aelban more time to evacuate as many souls from the island as possible. Knowing well what ill fate awaited those forced to live within lands occupied by the Reiyk, the forces of Aelban fought not for victory, but for the survival of their people. Vast fleets of converted merchant vessels and press ganged passenger liners were escorted by what remained of the once proud navy of Aelban. They fled to distant shores - Longguo,THINGS, and more. With them they brought tales of horrors inflicted, of mass rape and murder, villages burned to the ground. They begged and pleaded with those who would listen to take up arms and strike at the Reiyk as one. Many nations did arm themselves, preparing for the possibility of war - but few anticipated that the Reiyk would strike across the oceans in such strength. Surely, hegemony over their entire region of the world was sufficient?

Slowly but surely, Aelban fell back further and further. The convoys of refugees grew ever more desperate, every vessel more overcrowded than the last. The situation upon Aelban grew more and more dire with each passing day, and the world knew the victory of the Reiyk must be imminent. A final wave of vessels fled the doomed island, practically spilling over with refugees. world, sealing them into a shrinking enclave within their own lands came with the ferocity of a bolt of lightning. Battleships were captured with their crews still desperately attempting to prepare to sail. Ships laden with refugees were sunk with gunfire from newly captured coastal batteries. Attack planes soared out into the sea, sinking many more such vessels with torpedoes. Tens of thousands of civilians drowned at sea as their overloaded ships capsized beneath them, gaping holes torn in their hulls by the warplanes of the Reiyk.

---

Though they are not the true champions in any one field, the Reiyk is strong within all of them - and it is thus where their true strength lay. A large population, fertile lands, powerful fleets, vast armies, a booming economy, enormous industrial might, and more. Certainly, other nations are their betters in numerous fields - but only the Reiyk can claim to be such a strong contender within so many. Against such, no foe could hope to stand alone. And it was so that the August of the Reiyk, Magnus Erstus von Vilkstern, spoke from the Reiykspalatium in the capital city of Urbehr in 1939:

“Alfheichen people! Since time immemorial, when our ancestors descended from the cold worlds beyond to rule over this world, we have been the heirs to a proud and ancient heritage. Long have the devils of the world looked down upon us, knowing that they had diluted our people. Long have we strove for the heights of our ancestors. Long have we borne this injustice to our glorious race. When the Great Empire of Sueben fell to the ravages of the dogs of Aelban - who was it who seized the dead imperial mantle? The Reiyk! The Alfheichen people! True, blooded heirs of our noble ancestry. We took upon our shoulders the duty of unification - of subjugation! From our blessed lands we have swept the taint of the devils of this world. Our ancient heritage sullied no more by their touch.”

“And now? My friends - look around us. The Reiyk stands supreme within the world! The devils tremble before us, cowering before our might! They fear us! Our armies are the envy of the world! Our battleships rule the waves! Few can match our industry! What has the Reiyk to worry about, friends? We are the strongest nation of all!”

“I will tell you. The Devils - those beings of lesser blood that blight the earth around us. They and their spawn look upon us in fear and hatred! They know the threat we pose to their order and they will not stand for it! It is for this reason we must stand as strong as ever!”

“And of Aelban? What has become of them? What has become of their proud empire? What has become of their mighty armies and their fleets? What has become of their colonies in the east? What has become of everything they built? Ruination! And now they flee to all corners of the world! Beneath our boots they have been crushed like so many insects, and yet they beg and scream to all who will listen for aid against us! They flee to their kin, who before they had shunned. Little more than animals they scheme to destroy us from afar.”

“They fear us for they know the truth, my friends - that we, the Alfheicher, are destined to rule the world! This world is ours by right! It has been overrun by the devils and their half breed spawn! They seek to choke us out from it, and yet we persevere! Is there no stronger attestation to our inevitable dominance over the world than this? Can we know no peace? No! Not until we have brought the whole world to our heel, my countrymen. The Reiyk is powerful, prosperous, and beautiful. It is the nation I love more than anything - and the whole world must bask in our glory!

“But it is not only for the betterment of the world that we must bring it to heel. Against us the devils are aligned, my countrymen. Against us, they scheme and prepare for war. And it is so that we must bring war to them first! Before they can destroy us, we must destroy them! We are entering a war for our very existence, and it is one we shall win! The Alfheicher people are supreme throughout the world, superior to all others! Our victory is foretold within the universe itself, for against us the devils who seek our end must falter!”

“And what then, you ask? What then shall we do when the world is as it should be, when all the lands beneath the sun belong to their rightful rulers? Must we tolerate the devils within our midst? The half breeds and blood traitors who serve alongside them? I say no! They are beneath us! Animals to be done with as we see fit! We have purged their ilk from the shores of our home! Ensured only those of our pure stock remain! But the whole world belongs to us, the Alfheicher - would we allow these animals to defile our home, when the whole world is to be our home? There can be no tolerance of these savages, I say! We must not allow them to use resources needed to raise more Alfheicher families. It is our right - our imperative as Alfheichen to secure living space for our future generations! And it is equally our duty to ensure this land is free of the taint of the devils who would see them destroyed! The Alfheiches Reiyk will rule for eternity!”

---

Since 1938, the Reiyk had been engaged in low level conflict with numerous nations across the world.

In 1939, this conflict exploded into what would come to be called the Great World War, beginning with formal declarations of war following the speech from the August of the Reiyk in the early part of the year. Against the dire threat posed by the Reiyk, it was imperative that the nations of the world ally together to stem the tide against the enemy let loose upon them.

The last despairing wail of the air raid siren died away to nothing, leaving Lieutenant Adrias Wiyyan and the rest of the Rieyks garrison in Forward Base Delta staring out over an ocean of sand that still shimmered with the days heat. A final scout plane roared overhead, waggling its wings at the waving infantrymen below; that pilot was one lucky bastard. Already long shadows were beginning to creep over the sand as the tallest dunes hid the sinking sun. The night was growing cold and he knew that it would soon be time to find a jacket.

"Do you think they'll come tonight?" Wiyyans company sergeant, Licas Torenas, asked from where he stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back. A rifle was slung over his right shoulder and bandoliers of ammunition crisscrossed the chest of his khaki desert uniform.

How many times had someone asked that question in the past weeks? Wiyyan could have been rich if he had a coin for every time he had heard it. For the past three days the desert had been quiet, utterly still. That, he knew, was a trap if ever he had seen one. All his studies in the military academy had trained him to adopt tactics to an enemy who could be driven to ground, bombed from the air, sunk from beneath the waves. None of his instructors had talked about fighting an enemy ancient as the land it inhabited, whose cities were buried in caverns he could only imagine, and who fought with a savagery that brokered no prisoners.

The shadows marched steadily onward, reaching out like long fingers toward the concrete platforms that housed the garrison. He was still in awe of the complete darkness that seemed to lie beneath those ominous appendages of the drawing night. It always struck him as though the landscape was being painted black by some crazed artist, one piece at a time.

"I don't know," He said finally. "Aerial recon found nothing, as they always do, and even the supply column hasn't reported a single attack. Command thinks our show of force might have worked. Driving a desk must qualify them as experts." The sergeant snorted in laughter.

The sun sank so rapidly that even as they spoke the first of the shadows touched the edge of the garrison and seemed to ooze its way through the rows of barbed wire. The ranks of vehicles parked in the centre of the compound were next and he marvelled at the variety he could see. It was clear that high command wasn't entirely sure what they were facing out here, neither did he if he was honest, but that was nowhere better exemplified than in the motor pool. Several tanks, both medium and light, anti-aircraft guns, armoured cars, half-tracks, even a number of small staff cars that were utterly useless on anything but a packed roadway. A complete mishmash of equipment no one else wanted. He wasn’t even sure any of it was from this war.

"They're waiting." Torenas said, a bleak statement in the gathering gloom. "They're fucking waiting. They’ve fought this war for a lot longer than we have."

Wiyyan couldn't argue. The utter stillness was unnerving, especially when you knew that somewhere out there, an army was gathering. The Sahalia risen to meet every invader and he had no illusion that they had failed to note the presence of the Reiyk in the desert. He turned to look East and could see the very tops of the oil derricks, still clattering away, bathed for a brief moment in brilliant red sunshine before they to faded to black, just tall branchless trees against the rapidly darkening blue sky.

"Activate the perimeter." Wiyyan said, and Torenas echoed his order in a crashing bark across the garrison. Floodlights burst on, illuminating the ground all around the garrison while specialized sensors sunk into the sand listened for any sound of tunnelling beneath them. Soldiers everywhere checked their weapons and settled in for another long night of staring into the artificial daylight. None of them had seen the night sky in almost a month now.

In the darkness beyond the, the other forward bases and the oil drilling camps similarly lit the desert like glowing hives of activity among a land otherwise blanketed an inky blackness. Wiyyan waited until he was satisfied before turning and starting to walk back across the compound; his duty officer rotation was done and he was ready to get some sleep.

He was almost at the steps of the headquarters building, a fancy term for a series of metal shacks on a concrete platform, when he became aware of a sound he had not heard before. At first he thought it might be the wind but a glance at the flag slumped above his head told him that no breeze blew. Around him every face was turning toward the wire and the light drenched dunes beyond; faces pinched with worry and, for many, fear. Not a single man here was ignorant of the staggering numbers of dead that already lay beneath the shifting sands.

"It could be... maybe... someone, or something, is whispering..." Torenas, not far behind Wiyyan, was now in front of him and had cupped both hands around his ears like a parabolic sound mirror. "Oh Saints above... They must be coming."

Soldiers were already running from the huts that served as their barracks toward firing positions, sandbagged fortifications built on top of more concrete. Hard lessons had taught the Reiyk that digging down into the sand was a sure fire way to lose thousands of soldiers.

"Alarm!" Wiyyan roared and the air raid siren shattered the evening air, rising in a furious pitch until it screamed its sound all across the desert; beyond it the other installations took up the cry. Everyone not already at the firing line came tumbling out into the open and made for their assigned positions, rifles in hand. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as they did so. No soldier was going to die because he had failed to train them properly.

The siren died away, echoing back from the distant dunes and Ridgeback Mountains, and beneath it the whispering sound continued unabated. Nothing was moving that Wiyyan could see but all at once his seismic operators clapped hands to their ears. Eyes bulging from their heads as they frantically gestured at the machinery stacked neatly around them.

"Holy shit! We've got sign! It's fucking everywhere!" The whispering had grown slowly now until it was a rushing sound, like the wind through the leaves of a spring forest.

"Sign to the West!" More shouts, and then the cracks of rifles. Wiyyan turned toward the West and began to run, ripping his pistol from his belt as he did so.

More shouts, the clatter of a machine gun somewhere else in the garrison, it didn't matter now. His responsibility once the alarm had been sounded shrank to the Western perimeter only. He could see soldiers firing rapidly into the light beyond the barbed wire and then the heavy "thunk" of a mortar firing a parachute flare into the night sky.

It burst high above, illuminating the desert in a bizarre blue glow far beyond the edge of the floodlights. Wiyyan felt his blood go cold and he stopped dead in disbelief. The desert was moving, the surface of the sand look as if it were alive and it moving East, directly toward him.

An explosion shook the night and he risked a glance over his shoulder to see a distant oil derrick going up in flames. The flash of gunfire around it rapidly dwindled to nothing and the banks of floodlights went dark one by one. Firelight flickered across the sand now as the oil derrick collapsed, and black smoke billowed across the sand toward Wiyyan.

"Gas masks!" He shouted, pulling his own from his waist pouch and dragging it over his face. It wouldn't be much, but it might keep the men from inhaling the fumes; a man who couldn’t breath couldn’t fight and they needed every rifle they could get right now. He tugged the straps tight, took his pistol from beneath his legs, and hurried to his fighting position. The night had barely begun.

"Just a final verification." The recruitment officer pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced up from his desk at the young man standing in front of him. "Rodrigo Lagos, born in 1920 in Soría. Single, no children, two brothers and one sister. One recorded infraction for... 'disruption of the peace under the influence of alcohol'. Is that correct?"

"Yes mister, that's uh, that's correct." The farm boy nervously chewed his lip and fiddled with the fedora hat in his hands as the clerk scribbled on a sheet of paper. Rodrigo wore his nicest clothes, as did the other men who came to the vast city of Santania by the thousands, all of them for the same reason. His late father's grey wool jacket, waxed brogue shoes, black cotton pants and a striped shirt that his sister had sewn for him on his eighteenth birthday.

"Very well, Mr. Lagos. Medical exams are favorable, you seem to be in perfect health. You are approved for active duty." The clerk turned a file towards him along with a pen. "Please put your signature at the bottom of every paper." The officer handed a copy of the contract to Rodrigo after he was done. "This one is for you. Don't lose it. You will receive your enlistment notice at the post office in three days; in the meantime, I suggest you find somewhere to stay in town. And, that should go without saying, stay out of trouble. Congratulations, Mr. Lagos." The officer glanced towards the queue stretching well into the street and gave a tired sigh. "Next!"

Rodrigo stepped outside, clutching the precious piece of paper in his hand. He had never seen so many people before, Santiana was a busy enough place during peaceful times and now it was more active than ever. Trucks and trains flowed in and out, men wearing flat caps and shirts with rolled up sleeves patrolled the streets looking for potential workers for the naval yards, and Guardia Nacional personel on horseback did the same looking for troublemakers and drunkards. All the while, newspaper boys cried out the front page titles, suddenly hard-pressed to satisfy the Castillians' newfound hunger for world news.

Hotels all over the city were booked full, while a number of locals offered spare rooms and sofas to the gathering numbers flooding the city. Some had to sleep on the streets while they waited to be enlisted, given blankets and hot cups of tea, coffee and whatever comfort the city folk could provide them with.

---

Later

"Too slow! Again, second platoon!" The instructor's voice snapped like a whip, thick with a foreign accent. Rodrigo turned around and jumped into the meter-and-a-half-deep water-filled moat along with the rest of his thirty-five comrades in the second platoon, ninth company, fourth instruction regiment at the Torez Army School, fifteen kilometers away from Santiana. For two months now, he had been learning the myriad of things a soldier needs to know, things he never knew existed. Military jargon, ranks, types of ammunition, how and where to dig a foxhole, cleaning and operating weapons. The rifle he knew, thanks to the countless times he went hunting with his uncle and brother. Mines, machine guns, grenades, those were something else entirely.

It took two more laps of running, jumping, climbing and crawling through the obstacle course before the physical instruction corporal was satisfied and gave the soaked and exhausted recruits ten minutes to put on dry fatigues and hurry to their tactical instruction session. The classroom they sat in was not much different from the one in the small school back in Soría. Except instead of spelling and basic mathematics, they learned concepts such as spacing, suppressing fire and anti-tank combat.

And singing as well. Each company was expected to march and sing in unison wherever they went. Even as a fresh recruit, the steady rhythm of boots on the ground along with military songs gave Rodrigo pride, a feeling of belonging and brotherhood with his fellow recruits. Some were impatient to get in combat and bemoaned the government's decision to not declare war yet. Others boasted that they would personally put down any Alfheich stupid enough to set foot on Castillian soil. Some others wanted to be the first to take the white-and-blue banner to one of the Alfheichen cities.

---

Elsewhere

Marcos Lérida massaged his temple with two fingers, reclining in his leather armchair. The office of the 26th President of Castillia was occupied by a dozen officials for an extraordinary meeting. The Minister of Defense continued: "...In addition to the aforementioned ongoing naval refits, ammunition stockpiles are still too low to allow for large-scale operations for prolonged periods of time. Fuel stocks fare better, still inadequate. Small arms can be expected to be fully replaced in two years, whereas armored vehicles-"

"In short, Mr. President, we're not ready," the Chief of Staff of the Army interrupted. "And while the production reports are accurate, we have bigger issues. The Alfheiches Reiyk has been fighting in escalating conflicts for decades, while our most competent soldiers are hunters and mountain shepherds. We do not have a professional force, not anymore." The general leaned forward on the large dark oak table. "We need experienced troops. Otherwise, no matter how well equipped, we'll be fighting a war with armies of paper."

"And what do you propose we do then? Throw our men at the enemy and hope to salvage a handful of veterans among the survivors?" The Minister waved his hand broadly across the room. "You forget that we know full well what we need, thanks to reports from the front in Akiya and Longguo. We still have some time to prepare, and we surely can compensate or at least mitigate any experience deficiency with proper support, once the production of aircraft and heavy artillery..."

Lérida raised a hand. "So, you are saying that our greatest advantage is that we are fully aware of how weak we are?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence.

"General Abarquero is correct. We need experienced soldiers." The President rested his elbows on the table and joined hands. "But I will not have us engage in a foolish offensive while as unprepared as we are. We're not alone in this. Akiyans and Longguans are engaged on their own soil as we speak, and there's apparently heavy fighting going on in the Scorched Lands. That's where we need to go."

There was a pause as the various officials looked at one another, some pensive, others nodding in agreement.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "We will have to consult with the other governments, sort through the details et caetera... Given the circumstances, I assume we can expect a response shortly. But ultimately, the decision of where to send our troops will be yours, Mr. President."

Marcos Lérida nodded. "General Abarquero. You may begin preparations to organize an expeditionary force immediately."

The soft, woody fragrance of incense filled the halls of the Imperial Diet. Dim moonlight cast the slightest of shadows on the extravagantly carpeted floors, the only observers of the still sight being the two Imperial Guardsmen standing on either side of a plain and unassuming door. The day’s Diet meetings had ended long ago, and the two guardsmen had stood silently there since their adjournment. Not often did their wordless watch stretch so long into the night - indeed, both expected at any moment to see the sun’s light peek through the eastern windows of the building - but it hadn’t been unanticipated. The day’s debates had been of a weighty sort.

“Seiji, Matsuda, enter.”

The sacred voice of their Empress was sharp, cutting through the silence of the night, yet not so urgent as to provoke worry. Both guardsmen turned to stare at each other, shocked and confused by the order. Nevertheless, they obeyed their Empress, rested their rifles on their shoulders, and opened the door.

Beyond was a small room with religious heirlooms and relics strewn throughout the floor and the smoke of incense filling the air. So thick it was that both guardsmen could not help but cough as they entered. In the middle of the room, surrounded by bowls of incense draped in and atop a plain cushion, sat their Empress garbed in white. A black kimono, which she had been wearing throughout the day’s business, lay atop her lap.

“My Empress!” Said the guardsmen in unison, flattening their ears to their head and bowing as much as their rifles would allow.

“Thank you for your patience. I understand that my meditations have been extensive this night. I believe, though, that I have reached a conclusion. Please - give me your thoughts on the debates of the day.”

The two men looked at each other with hesitation, speaking silently with their eyes. Matsuda was the first to open his mouth.

“My Empress, it is not our place.”

“Who are you to decide what is and is not your place? That is up to me. If you had a vote today, what would it have been?”

“My Empress,” said Seiji, “You speak the truth. Please though, my Empress, tell us why your Majesty seeks our advice over that of another. You have consulted with many wise men and strategists - why does your Majesty need our judgement?”

“I ask you precisely because I have my advisors, and after consulting with all of them and the entire Diet there is still no consensus.”

“My Empress, you seek someone to break the tie?” Asked Matsuda.

“No, Matsuda, I do not. I believe I have already chosen what path we are to take - what I seek is assurance I have reached the proper conclusion.”

The men nodded in unison, “We understand, My Empress”

Matsuda was the first to give his answer. While Seiji weighed the choices against each other, Matsuda launched into a passionate speech; claiming that to vote against the proposal would be disgraceful to himself, his ancestors, and indeed Fuso as a whole. He spewed insults towards those who didn’t support the idea, calling them cowards and greedy pigs only out for their own interests. So furious he was that, at the end of his tirade, he was panting like an exhausted dog. Without words, the Empress took the black kimono on her lap and laid it on the floor - motioning at it. Matsuda sat upon it and caught his breath.

“Thank you Matsuda. As always, you are an honest man. Seiji, what are your thoughts?”

The Empress’ words seemed to pull Seiji back into reality, his glazed-over eyes suddenly fixating on her face.

“My Empress.. I believe it to be inevitable. All we can do is try to choose the right path.”

“What is that path, do you think?”

“I cannot say, my Empress. If we delay, then perhaps we shall fare better, but... well, my Empress, I have many close friends at the Imperial Institute of Naval Technology. Some of their theories are disturbing, to say the least. We are far from the most advanced nation and it may be best not to wait for us to be hopelessly outmatched.”

“If you had to make a choice, what would it be?”

“I prefer a certain risk to an uncertain one, my Empress. With what I can foresee, I think it best to act now.”

“Seiji, Matsuda, I thank you for your advice. I trust both of you with my life, and so I am glad to know that we are all of the same mind. Your conclusions reflect mine, and as such, unless you have any objections, I believe the matter is settled. Tomorrow morning I will announce my decision and my orders.”

The two men looked uneasy at the prospect that their opinions may have just doomed the Empire, but they did nothing but stand before the Empress and bow.

“Well then, I think it’s time for all of us to get some much deserved rest.” Said the Empress.

She carefully and deliberately extinguished the incense, but otherwise left the room as it was. Flanked by her guards, she walked into the hallway. As they drew further from the cloud of incense, the two men began to cough as if dreadfully ill, barely able to keep their backs straight. The Empress just chuckled slightly.

“Men do tend to get used to that particular incense. Don’t worry, the night air will help.”

---

A grand procession wove its way through the newly rebuilt streets of Laiguantzu. From its origin, the great battlecruiser Katsuragi, to its destination - the likewise newly refurbished Central Administrative Building. Within it lay the destination of Empress Atsuko, the personal office and chambers of High Priestess Daiyu Nuyiloc Xiaolong. Soldiers from both Fuso and Longguo marched in great columns beside each other, and the crowds of Longzhen and the other peoples of the Heavenly Kingdom gathered to wish the visiting Empress well. The twin banners of the Empire of Fuso and Heavenly Kingdom of Longguo flew side by side at the head of the procession, above the regal car in which sat the Empress herself.

The staccato rhythm of thousands of hobnailed boots upon the stone pavement of the central street echoed into the distance. Alongside the Empress rode dignitaries and ambassadorial officials from Fuso and Longguo alike, some waving to the crowds that surrounded them, while others looked serenely on towards the distance.

As the procession entered the fortified central hub of the capital, the din of the crowd died away, the brightly colored civilian populace replaced by endless dust grey parade uniforms of the central guard corps. Thousands upon thousands of stony, silent Longzhen soldiers stood at attention as the procession neared, snapping off crisp salutes as they passed by. The silence was almost eerie, the din of the vast capital city surrounding this hybrid of fortress and bureaucratic center choked off by the high walls surrounding it that ensured near total privacy from prying eyes without.

The procession finally came to a halt before a fortified building, almost plain in its construction. Another column of Longzhen soldiers merged with the Fusoan guard to escort the Empress into the building, marching in perfect formation.

The interior of High Priestess Daiyu’s home was largely devoid of the regal trappings one might have expected of the leader of such a nation. Instead it merely resembled the average dwelling of a citizen of the city outside, albeit built to an immensely higher standard. Though covered in decorative paneling and elaborate murals, each wall was of reinforced concrete, heavy armored steel plates within ensuring the building itself could withstand even direct artillery fire for a time. The empress and her guards descended below this building, entering a large elevator whose travel seemed to elapse for a small eternity before it opened once more. The room it revealed was far more elaborately furnished, a strange fusion of traditional Longguozhen interior decor and modernist aesthetic coexisting within. At a large mahogany desk sat Daiyu herself, a wide smile on her face as she rose to greet the Empress, her sightless eyes hidden behind a simple blindfold.

“Atsuko, my friend.” She said, walking towards the sound of their arrival and pulling the Empress into a tight embrace. “It is good to have you back once more. Please, sit!” She turned to the assembled escorts and dignitaries, nodding to them courteously. “You may leave us. I wish to speak with the Empress in private.”

Wordlessly, they left the room, save for Atsuko’s own guard, who remained - looking to his Empress for his orders.

"Wait outside Seiji. There's no safer place in the whole country. Perhaps you ought to give some of those wise words of yours to the other dignitaries."

"Of course, your Majesty. I do not deserve such kind words."

The guard bowed deeply to the two leaders, then left the room. As the door closed he could already be heard striking up a conversation with one of the Longzhen diplomats outside.

"It has been far too long, Daiyu." Said Atsuko, taking her seat, "Curses be upon this terrible war, if only I could so much as write you a letter without arousing the suspicions of the Reiyk."

Daiyu smiled even more brightly now as she turned towards the sound of Atsuko’s voice. “My dear Atsuko, it truly has been too long since I heard your voice in person.” She sighed, resting a callused hand on Atsuko’s shoulder. “This war truly is terrible. The losses against the enemy are horrendous.” She turned her blind gaze towards Atsuko, “I haven’t stopped working since the war began, Atsuko. You don’t…” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Already I have heard of millions of my people dead. Certainly - the battles are terrible. But the reports of what follows… had I not heard the stories from my own generals I might not have believed it. They have pictures they tell me - and I… I cannot help but be grateful for my blindness, so I may never glimpse such things.”

Her voice wavered as she spoke. “Atsuko, we need help. Please.”

Atsuko frowed at her words. She wished she could tell her of the debates in the Diet, of the decision the Empire had come to, but that was a secret that had to be kept from all ears. As much as she wanted to tell Daiyu, she knew that if it touched the ears of any other it could be the undoing of both of them.

"Daiyu, my Daiyu, you will have your answer soon. No later than dawn two days from now. We have chosen our course through this time, and I can tell you no else - lest others hear… there are pictures, you say? Photographs?"

Grimly, Daiyu nodded. She stood upright, making her way around her desk and opening the second drawer on the right. After a moment’s fumbling, she alighted upon the photographs she had been given, marked with a specific texture of rough tape for her to find it more easily. She sighed, before returning to Atsuko, sitting across from her as she handed her the photographs in question.

“Here, I think it’s these - though I obviously can’t er… check it myself.” She sighed. “I am glad, as I said. I have seen enough death for one lifetime.”

The pictures were, indeed, what had been described. Smuggled photographs from the occupied southern territories looked up at Atsuko. Emaciated prisoners staring out from trains packed so tightly they were forced to stand upright. Piles of Longzhen bodies, doused in kerosene and set alight to dispose of them. A ravine at whose bottom lay skeletons, hundreds of skeletons, thousands, tens of thousands of skeletons intermingled amongst each other. Atop them lay freshly killed bodies, stripped naked, some of them clearly showing the damage from the machine gun bullets that had torn them apart. The images went on and on, a row of captured Longzhen soldiers with their hands tied behind their backs, slumped over dead with bullet holes in the backs of their heads. Columns of starving prisoners, women, men, and children, shackled and marched along by Alfheicher guards to an unknown destination.

Daiyu waited silently for Atsuko to speak. The pictures were worth more than any report she could give, she was sure.

For a time, the only response which Daiyu received was silence. Then it was retching.

"T… This is… ugh, this is far worse than the rumors. Oh, by the heavens, how? Why? I don't understand, I can't understand…"

She had seen such horrid ways of killing before, indeed her own men had been rather ruthless during the purges, but the scale of the killings was simply unimaginable. Women and children too? And why would one ever have the need to murder tens of thousands of innocent civilians all at once? The Reiyk was not merely pillaging Longguo, no, for such a scale of murders they must have built factories of death.

If the stories from Longguo were true, Atsuko thought, then the stories from the other occupied lands must be as well. And if those were true, then the very same fate would befall Fuso if the Reiyk were to ever set foot upon her shores.

"You are blessed, Daiyu, truly blessed. I wish I too was blind, I-"

She retched again, soiling the room's wonderful rug, thinking of what she knew might come.

"Daiyu, I must tell you. Seeing this… I have to share my worries now. My guards are fine confidants, but they do not understand the burden of ruling. You do. Here, come close."

Atsuko wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, and pulled Daiyu close to her in an embrace. Delicately, she whispered in her ear.

"Is there anyone near whom may hear us?"

Daiyu shook her head, hugging Atsuko tightly. “This room is as silent as the void of space, Atsuko. None can hear us.”

"The Amaterasu and a fleet under her are on their way to the Reiyk's port at Emdavenn. They will strike at dawn the day after tomorrow. Once we have word of their victory our troops in Baishan will cross the border into the occupied lands. In a way I am glad to have seen these images - clearly the Reiyk does not deserve the honor of a proper declaration of war. I know you understand that none can know even that we spoke of this. After seeing those images I couldn't let you go to sleep tonight in uncertainty… but at the same time…"

She hugged Daiyu tighter.

"What if they reach Fuso too?"

Silence elapsed for a time, and the only measure of response available to Atsuko was a tightening of Daiyu’s embrace. At length, however, she let out a choking, gasping sob. “Thank you.” She forced out, resting her head on her shoulder. “Thank you. I and my entire people thank you. We have been almost alone against this… this existential threat. Only Fuso lent us aid, and now…” She looked up, wet patches now visible on the cloth obscuring her eyes.

She said nothing for a time, merely resting her head on Atsuko’s shoulder once more as she took deep, even breaths. “If such a tragedy occurs, Atsuko, then know that every inch of Fusoan soil they step foot upon will be paid for in the blood of ten of their own. Know that there are millions within this nation who will march to the aid of your people in this darkest hour of ours.” Her voice quieted, “And I pray that it may never come to pass. I remember Fuso, when I once visited it when I was young. It is a beautiful land. I pray this war never blights it or its people.”

“Thank you, Daiyu. Thank you. I know not what demons have possessed the Reiyk, but together I swear we will be able to exorcise them. I can see now that surrender simply is not an option. My people will be proud to fight until the very last for the sake of yours - of that I will make sure.”

Daiyu nodded. “I have heard from my reports of what has happened to those who surrendered to the Reiyk. Some have survived and escaped - but others speak of mass rape and execution following capture. It is barbaric. I was reading the reports shortly before your arrival.” She shook her head. “They are yours to read if you wish. I have them in regular writing, as well as my own.”

“That would be most useful. Our commissars ought to know just what the enemy will do to anyone who expects mercy. What is the outlook of things on the front? How rapidly is the Reiyk advancing?”

“Rapidly.” Daiyu replied grimly. “You know well how many vast tracts of land we have lost to them. I thought our armies well trained, equipped, and drilled - but our tactics are poorly implemented, we have trained to fight the wrong war, and we are paying dearly for this. I have ordered strategic consolidation around the city of Zhanghei - much of the southern industrial region has been lost, but if we can hold on to Zhanghei there remains some hope until our new factory projects in the north can come online. That all depends on our girls holding the line.” She stared unseeing at Atsuko, “And I am expecting heavy casualty reports in turn.”

She stood once more, pulling a stack of papers marked with a different abrasive tape on its corner and handing them to Atsuko. “It is… it is disgusting.”

Within the pages were documented firsthand accounts of the results of surrender to the Reiyk. Second Lieutenant Nyue reported rape and execution at the hands of Alfheicher soldiers, escaping this fate herself due to severe injury leading them to believe her dead. Trooper Aranyi reported experiencing gang rape at the hands of Alfheicher soldiers, with half of her platoon summarily executed by firing squad and the other half marched to a holding area. During her subsequent escape, all but herself and a male volunteer whose name went unrecorded were killed or recaptured and subsequently executed on the spot. The accounts went on and on, documenting similar atrocities against the civilian populace. Entire villages subject to these horrors en masse before the population was marched into labor camps or executed.

Daiyu nodded. “It matches with the pictures, I imagine.”

“Yes, indeed it does. Perhaps I ought to have our men change their attack plans - we were intending to only hit their port facilities, but I think these demons should learn what their terror is like.”

“Oh?” The curiosity in Daiyu’s voice was mixed with a strange combination of distaste and excitement. “What do you have in mind, dearest Atsuko? Would it not make most sense to target their port facilities and ships, first and foremost?”

“We are planning a rather experimental attack, focusing heavily on our naval air service and their torpedo bombers. We intend to destroy most of their northern fleet in port, and draw surviving vessels out to fight our combined fleet. As such, our battleships and battlecruisers will not actually be participating in the port attack itself if all goes well. However, if we were to move them within range of the coastal towns…”

“You wish to ensure any Alfheicher living within gun range on the coast lives in constant fear of bombardment from the Fusoan fleet.” Daiyu said in response, “You wish to deprive them of the security and confidence they have enjoyed for so long. To destroy their illusion of invincibility - that is your ultimate goal?”

Atsuko nodded, “They need to be made to understand that they will never be safe so long as they commit such atrocities.

Daiyu extended a hand. “Come, please - let us discuss this in my quarters.” She stood, extending her other hand towards a sturdy but simple looking door in the side of the room. “That office is no place for one such as you, Atsuko. Please, make yourself comfortable.” She said, gesturing towards the comfortable, homey looking room that now surrounded them.

A large bed dominated the center of it, thick, plush bedsheets were nevertheless almost unadorned - for few would ever see them, least of all their owner. Instead of visual decoration, the room was filled with the ambiance of a custom built record player of impeccable quality, playing a soft, soothing tune on loop.

Smiling, Daiyu reclined upon the bed, gesturing to the sound of Atsuko’s footsteps. “Come, let us discuss our plans for defeating this enemy in full in more comfortable surroundings.”

“Ah, you always did have good taste.” Said Atsuko, “Well, in addition to our naval attack we shall begin two simeutaneous land campaigns - one on the island of Kailuo and another in the mountains of Baishan. Hopefully the terrain in both areas will help mitigate the Reiyk’s armored forces. As you are well aware Fuso simply does not have the raw materials to split between warships and tanks.”

She sat on the side of the bed, closing her eyes and sighing.

“In honesty, Daiyu, the Empire isn’t ready for war. I had hoped to have more time to prepare, that’s why we signed the non-aggression pact, but the situation calls for immediate action. We may not be ready, but if we were to wait any longer to involve ourselves then it would already be too late.” Said Atsuko, who then clutched her magatama necklace, “At the very least my people have trained their will well. No matter what may come, the only way the Reiyk will conquer Fuso is if they kill every last one of us. Of that I am sure.”

“And should such come to pass, Fuso will not stand alone. The Reiyk is vast and terrible, Atsuko - but they are not infinite. They must pull troops from our shores for a full, proper invasion of Fuso. If they make that mistake, we shall punish them with all we have and stand behind you as you have stood behind us.” Daiyu smiled, “And should that day come the Fusoan armies will want not for tanks, I promise you that. At present, we are busy re-establishing new centers of manufacturing within and north of the Yachuanzi Basin. We have relocated much of our tooling from Zhanghei, to remove it from the threat posed by the Reiyk salients. All of our focus is on rebuilding our industrial capacity as quickly as possible.”

She reached out, taking Atsuko’s hand in hers. “The whole of Longguo is now devoted to the destruction of the Reiyk. Our envoys have been sent to Akiya and elsewhere to bring worthy comrades into our alliance. Against all of us, their defeat is inevitable!”

Atsuko smiled faintly at her words, “Akiya? I hope they will work closely with our nations. I spent much time in talks with their diplomats regarding the issue of Aelban… and when our armies clashed at the behest of those perfidious Aelbish our survivors spoke highly of their soldiers’ skill and honor. I would be proud to finally have my soldiers stand beside theirs, and more importantly they could be a great ally.”

Daiyu nodded. “It is my fervent hope that they can supply us with tanks, steel, and heavy weapons in the interim. We can recover, but we have suffered greatly.” She squeezed the Empress of Fuso’s hand tightly, her head still turned towards the sound of her voice. “Our cousins have great resources at their disposal. It is my hope that with their aid we will know ultimate victory.”

“With luck we can move the war away from our two nations. The planned Baishan offensive, if all goes well, will stretch the Reiyk’s supply lines thin. We’ve deployed our tank corps to the Yujin pass - the Baishan Army thinks it will be possible to push through the pass and cut the Reiyk’s invasion force in two. From there our mechanized divisions will have easy access through the lowlands the Reiyksmacht seems to have settled into. Tell me - you are far more familiar with fighting in that area. Do you think the strategy has merit?”

Silence elapsed for a moment, before Daiyu sat upright, frowning. “The army of the Reiyk has demonstrated their skill at such warfare, my love.” She said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We have begun to develop some tactics against them - but unless your forces have achieved parity in the quality of tactics and armor, and quantity of supply, I fear such a stratagem might be doomed to failure. We have conducted armored counterattacks ourselves - but the Type 39 has yet to enter full production, and as such our efforts have produced…” she trailed off, sighing heavily. “An assault with light tanks and limited air support against them proved to be nothing but a waste of lives and resources. If you believe your army has the ability to equal them in this, I can endorse it with caution.”

Atsuko nodded, “I am lucky to be able to say that our tank corps contains a number of heavier armored units… and that the officer who created it in the first place is so loyal. I’m sure the Baishan Army would have little luck on the northern front, but at the Yujin pass there may well be a chance. The pass widens on the Reiyk’s side of the border, so they can’t effectively set up static defenses… of course, our geographic advantage in that regard in truth only boils down to making the encirclement and destruction of our offensive force less strategically catastrophic.” She darkly chuckled for a moment, “At the very least I know that no defense the Reiyk can mount will stop the Imperial Army from bravely charging… if only we had a greater wealth of good officers. In truth the armored spearhead plan was chosen because we simply do not have the leadership for a large-front offensive.”

Daiyu frowned more deeply. “My dear - this is not encouraging.” She looked to Atsuko, slowly removing her blindfold and allowing her nearly sightless, mutilated eyes to look on her. She could discern only light, shadow, and the most basic of objects through one, and were the room not so dimly lit doing so would have been excruciating. “You have seen these wounds I have suffered during our civil war. You too have fought in battle. You know as well as I that bravery is no substitute for a properly supplied and lead attack. The soldiers of Longguo are brave to a fault, they have thrown themselves upon the tanks of the Reiyk armed with knives and grenades and destroyed many vehicles by strapping mines to their bodies and lying in ambush. And yet such bravery, such foolhardy bravery, has done little to slow them.” She returned the blindfold to its position, letting out a deep sigh. “Please, do not send your people into a slaughter. Are you sure it will work?”

“In honesty, Daiyu, it has to. If the Reiyk brought the full brunt of its army to bear on Fuso we would be sending children to the front with sticks and stones within a year. At the beginning we will have the element of surprise - our strategists think that we must seize it as best we can. But most importantly... after seeing those photographs, reading those reports… my soldiers must see what the Reiyk has done. Victory or defeat, the people of Fuso must be shocked and appalled by the atrocities of the Reiyk and at the same time they must become accustomed to them. My soldiers must see it all with their own eyes.”

“I see you are convinced, then.” Said Daiyu. “I pray to Tzaiyan-Amaterasu that your generals will find victory.” She took a deep breath, feeling the soft, plush cushions beneath her. “This will be a long war, Atsuko.” She said, “It will not be won through swift, decisive actions. Longguo is nowhere near finished, and the Reiyk has barely begun. I cannot say when it will end - but it will not be this year, the next, or the year after that.” She reclined in the bed, staring sightlessly into a distance only she could envision. “It will consume the world in its fire, or else all will be snuffed out.”

She sat up, sighing heavily. “Please, lay down. Let us take our minds off this war. Tomorrow I will show you our first production models of the Type 39. Let us take our minds off this war, this horror, at least for a while.”

---

0543 Hours, 12th June, RMS Venetan

The Reiyksmarine destroyer Venetan briefly fires on the periscope of an unidentified submersible off the coast of Emdavenn. It radios to Reiyksmarine Headquarters in Emdavenn to report the sighting and attempts to track the submarine beneath the ocean. Its initial report is delayed due to decoding troubles at Reiyksmarine HQ, and subsequent uncoded radio conversations lead the Reiyksmarine to believe that the so-called “sighting” was merely down to nerves as the Venetan identifies no traces of the alleged vessel. The Venetan is ordered to trade places with the RMS Gillia and return to port for the spotting crew and captain to be reprimanded for their hysteria.

0559 Hours, 12th June, Coast of Emdavenn

“Centurius! Centurius! I have something on scopes!”

The new radio locator tech’s panicked voice was the only one in the room. Indeed, of the small crew, he was perhaps the only one who was actually paying much attention to the scopes. Emdavenn was, after all, one of those sought-after posts for the Reiyk’s specialists. The only thing better than being behind the lines staring at a radar readout was to be in the homeland staring at a radar readout. Or, far more likely for mobile radar units such as this, flagrantly breaking military regulations while taking occasional glances at a radar readout.

“What is it, Gefreiter?” Said the crew’s Centurius, putting down his barely disguised flask of altbier and leaning in to see the scopes for himself. The tech could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Big signal, sir! Just look! Is that an airship or something?”

The Centurius checked his wristwatch and threw his eyes over to a crooked post on the wall which had pasted over identical ones plenty of times. The daily itinerary of the harbor and its airspace. He sighed and looked back at the Gefreiter.

“Patrol flight, kid. It’s a patrol flight. Some big bombers coming back from the colonies. Mark it in the report and calm down.”

A few moments passed, and the hesitant Gefreiter began to clumsily hammer out a summary on his typewriter.

“Listen kid, loosen up. It’s Emdavenn - nobody’s ever heard of something as ludicrous as an attack on Emdavenn! Here, have a sip, calm your nerves.”

0602 Hours, 12th June, IFN Amaterasu

RADAR spotters aboard the Amaterasu detect the destroyers RMS Venetan and RMS Gillia. It is determined that the Venetan is steaming for harbor and could possibly detect the first attack wave. Ordering the first wave to redirect is briefly considered, but following a debate on the subject, it is decided to maintain radio silence and have the first attack wave carry on as planned. The attack submarine A-070 is dispatched from the Combined Fleet to pursue the Venetan, unaware that it has already sighted an Imperial submarine.

0639 Hours, 12th June, Skies over Emdavenn



Dozens upon dozens of aircraft appeared over the horizon of Emdavenn Bay, storming forwards on a direct course to the harbor. The only ones who spotted the incoming swarm of warplanes were the confused citizens of the city of Emdavenn, who could only stare upwards at the planes emblazoned with the Imperial roundel and wonder why and how they’ve come so far. By the time the force reached the outskirts of the harbor district, it was already far, far too late.

Seeing that the Reiyk’s ships were in harbor and its forces were entirely unaware of the attack, Captain Nishikawa broke radio silence and spoke his eternal words with glee.

“Climb mount Tateyama! All flights, all flights, climb Mount Tateyama!”

At 0646 Hours on the 12th of June, the attack on Emdavenn Harbor began in earnest. Bombs and torpedoes fell like rain on the unsuspecting 2nd Northern Fleet as the Reiyk’s brass looked on in shock. It took almost half an hour for air raid sirens to sound, and the Reiyk’s fighters failed spectacularly to scramble in the confusion.

0658 Hours, 12th June, Cockpit of Kamikaze 1

“Princess! Princess, I beg of you!”

Nariko-Hime ignored the frantic cries of her gunner, pulling the stick back as far as she could and pulling her plane out of the haphazard dive with all the caution of a mad bull. Her gunner shrieked, gripping onto her machine gun for dear life.

“Steady!” Shouted her navigator, staring into her bombsight, “Steady! Steady!”

Bullets whizzed by the torpedo bomber’s cockpit, some of the Reiyk’s seamen having finally managed to get themselves to their battlestations. The gunner had calmed down after nearly blacking out in the Princess’ flashy maneuver - she wasn’t exactly the most experienced of Kamikaze squadron’s crew.

“Hah! That’s it, that’s the vab Gnieschen!” Yelled the Princess, “Good eye Sakiko!”

The merciful lack of the gunner’s babbling and screaming ended when she turned around to look at their target, which was far too close for comfort. A few coherent words managed to escape her mouth after her initial squeal.

“We’re gonna crash, we’re gonna crash! Princess! Pull up, pull up!”

“Now, Princess!”

The plane’s underslung torpedo fell from its mount, splashing into the water and barreling towards the monstrous enemy battleship. It was joined in the water by the rest of Kamikaze Squadron’s torpedoes, loosed at similarly perilous altitudes and speeds. The Princess’ gunner continued to babble uncontrollably as the Princess pulled back on the stick, narrowly missing the vab Gnieschen’s enormous and ornate masts. The screaming was silenced by the thunderous explosion of the squadron’s torpedoes hitting their mark. Her gunner was treated to the glorious view of the battleship’s magazines erupting, rapidly plunging it into the harbor’s waters.

Both coherent members of the plane’s crew broke out in silent cheers, briefly deafened by the immense blast. Despite it, the Princess barked orders into the radio, assigning new targets to the incoming bombers and reporting the sinking of the vab Gnieschen.

0709 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Field

Imperial planes carpet bomb the hangars and runways of Emdavenn Field, multiple Reiyk fighters being destroyed during takeoff and countless more finding themselves buried under collapsing hangars. The local aerial forces of the Reiyk are entirely neutered, and the Imperial planes may bomb the harbor with impunity. They reported this victory to the Combined fleet, which proceeded to move into an ambush position outside of Emdavenn Bay.

0712 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

The destroyer RMS Velkschtagt, zig-zagging in panic near the mouth of the harbor, spots and engages the Imperial submarine A-070. It damages the submarine slightly with gunfire, and a depth charge hit causes flooding in the engine room. The Captain of the A-070 orders the boat to flank speed and rams the Velkschtagt. Most or all torpedoes aboard the A-070 detonated, causing an explosion which sunk both vessels. It is believed the Captain or one of the boat’s weapons officers intentionally ordered the detonation as a suicide attack.

0734 Hours, 12th June, Imperial Combined Fleet

The attack continues as planned, and the second wave of aircraft depart the Imperial Combined Fleet. A number of remaining fighter aircraft are launched afterwards, in the absence of enemy air units, to scout for any unaccounted vessels of the 2nd Northern Fleet and any possible reinforcements. The Imperial Combined Fleet advances its cruiser submarines towards the harbor at periscope depth to intercept the few destroyers and corvettes attempting to flee the aerial assault.

0801 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

The Imperial submarine A-068 torpedoes the RMS Schengum, a heavy cruiser which the submarine’s spotters mistake for a Reiyk battleship. The Schengum fails to retaliate and a second volley of torpedoes founders the cruiser. Submarine A-068 reports the sinking of an enemy battleship to the Combined Fleet, but aerial spotters correctly identify the Schengum. The A-068 continues to advance into the harbor for a time, but turns back to meet the cruiser submarines as the waters become too shallow for it to operate effectively.

0821 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

An emergency order is given by the Reiyksmarine HQ for all ships to abandon the port and make for open waters. Headed by the flagship, August V Class RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen, and followed by the fleet’s aircraft carriers - many with the wreckage of their planes still burning on their runways - the battered Second Northeast Fleet steams at flank speed for the mouth of the bay and the Imperial fleet lying in wait. The carrier RMS Helene vab Norden humiliatingly runs aground and is damaged beyond recognition by glory-seeking dive bomber pilots.

0828 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

Reports are relayed by the second attack wave to the Combined Fleet that the Reiyk’s 2nd Northern Fleet is on the move. The Combined Fleet sails towards the harbor entrance to corner the retreating ships, and the first attack wave preys on the unscreened, slow-moving capital ships of the 2nd Northern. Many of the warships take serious damage from air-launched torpedoes and dive bombers. Another Reiyk carrier, the RMS Maria Erstus vab Gnieschen, is sunk by torpedoes.

0923 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

The second attack wave reaches the retreating ships and the harbor. Most aircraft continue on to their targets in the harbor - having been assigned to hit cruisers and the like - but a good number choose to harass the fleeing capitals in search of glory. The portion that continues on to the harbor sinks most remaining ships and heavily damages port facilities and drydocks.

1042 Hours, 12th June, Mouth of Emdavenn Harbor

The remnants of the Reiyk’s 2nd Northern Fleet finally reach open sea, and due to having sustained heavy damage, the RADAR systems of the fleet’s battleships and carriers are inoperable. Spotters aboard the RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen report scout floatplanes in the air, and the Admiral of the 2nd Northern Fleet realizes far too late the scope of the attack. The first salvo of twelve eighteen-inch shells from the IFN Amaterasu hits the water off the bow of the Reiyk’s flagship. The other battleships of the Combined Fleet follow suit - having laid in wait for the retreating ships, they are in the perfect position to strike.

1119 Hours, 12th June, Mouth of Emdavenn Harbor

Having repositioned itself to face its guns towards the Imperial fleet, the RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen fires her first salvo at the IFN Amaterasu. Hampered by the smokescreens laid by Imperial escort craft, the shots land far from their intended enemy - with the crews having instead mistakenly targeted the light cruiser IFN Suma. The first two salvos miss, with the third straddling the Suma. The final salvo strikes true, and the unfortunate cruiser is torn into pieces by the salvo of 16-inch shells.

1132 Hours, 12th June, Mouth of Emdavenn Harbor

A volley from the IFN Amaterasu straddles the RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen. Her next salvo squarely impacts the 2nd Northern Fleet’s flagship. The Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen sustains heavy damage to her superstructure but continues firing, finally sighting the Amaterasu and turning her guns on the ship. Having perfectly “Crossed the T” on the Reiyk’s fleet, the Fusoan battleship task force unloads the full complement of their guns upon the battered 2nd Northern Fleet.

1153 Hours, 12th June, Mouth of Emdavenn Harbor

The IFN Amaterasu scores another direct broadside on the RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen. Having sustained significant damage, the commander of the fleet orders the flagship and the rest of the fleet to return to port, where they can more safely scuttle and abandon their ships in the hopes of recovering them in the future. The Imperial fleet continues to hound the Reiyk’s ships, with repeated airstrikes by Fusoan aircraft destroying many of the coastal guns that could have covered the retreat of the 2nd Northern Fleet.

12:59 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

Sailing low in the water and listing badly, The RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen runs aground in the middle of the shallow and narrow passage to the harbor of Emdavenn, blocking the retreat of the rest of the 2nd Northern. Though the ship continues to sink, no order to abandon ship is given, and the crew continues to fire her guns in desperation against the Imperial fleet. At 13:13 hours, under relentless assault from the IFN Amaterasu and dive bombers from the carriers, an armor piercing 18 inch shell strikes the magazine of the RMS Wilhus Drittus vab Tirpen, destroying the ship in a massive explosion. The nearby destroyer, RMS Knessus, is severely damaged in the blast and shortly thereafter destroyed by Fusoan dive bombers.

13:49 Hours, 12th June, Emdavenn Harbor

Trapped between the blocked harbor and the Imperial fleet, the 2nd Northern Fleet descends into chaos as it is systematically destroyed by Imperial guns and the Combined Fleet’s bombers. At roughly 16:00 hours, the entire Reiyksmarine force is eliminated, and the Imperial Combined Fleet leisurely takes up positions in the harbor as civilians cower in fear and Reiyksmacht soldiers prepare to fend off an expected amphibious landing.

16:45 Hours, City of Emdavenn

A full broadside from the IFN Amaterasu turns Emdavenn Square into rubble and levels the surrounding buildings. The entire Imperial Combined Fleet opens fire on civilian targets in Emdavenn, able to bombard the coast with impunity. Carrier aircraft harass and disrupt civilian evacuation attempts, bombing and strafing any incoming or outgoing vehicles surrounding the city. Reiyk fighters slowly stream in from surrounding areas, but the fractured forces are only able to limit slightly the range of Imperial aerial operations.

~1920 Hours, 12th June, City of Emdavenn

It is estimated that the deck guns of the Imperial submarines and the artillery guns of some of the fleet’s older carriers have fully expended their ammunition at this time.

2400 Hours, 12th June, Harbor of Emdavenn



The clock strikes midnight, and the terror bombardment finally ceases. Gunnery crews collapse at their battlestations from exhaustion. Allegedly, thirteen torpedoes are thrown off the deck of the carrier IFN Ibutsuryu, their safeties having been sabotaged by overeager flight crews to allow the carrier’s torpedo bombers (which ran out of land munitions) to drop them on Emdavenn. The Combined Fleet steams for the ports of Fuso, having carried out to perfection the orders of Her Imperial Majesty the Empress.

---

(written by @Keyguyperson, course of the battle collaborated with me)

---

---

Tank Commander Chen Hinwu Saiyin’s felt her body shake and rattle with the vibrations of the Type 28 as the light tank rolled between stark karst hills of southern Longguo. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of the battle ahead. Memories of past encounters with the enemy flickered in her mind as the armored column trundled forward. The Type 28, lightly armed, even more lightly armored, and hopelessly obsolete, had been little more than cannon fodder for the newest tanks of the enemy. She had heard whispers in the grapevine of a new tank in development, intended to be put into mass production the next year.

But she remembered the burning tanks of her comrades. The smell of cooking flesh. The screaming, the horrible screaming, as her comrades burned alive within their metal coffins.

And yet the soldiers of the 4th Mechanized Army were throwing themselves once again into the white hot inferno of the Reiyk’s war machine. Not on some general’s fever dream. Not on the orders of the commissar whipping the soldiers into fever pitch. They, and hundreds of thousands more comrades, had organized into a relief force to lift the encirclement of the embattled soldiers and civilians trapped within Zhanghei. Daily, they heard the combat reports droned over the radio by an increasingly weary and tired radio operator. Almost a million soldiers and civilians were trapped within the city - and by the grace of the sun above, they would be delivered.

Overhead, the cacophony of howitzer shells impacting enemy positions was drowned out only by the roar of the engine of her tank, the squealing of its tracks, and the screaming in her head. She did not want to go. She did not want to die. She wished only to return home to her children and forget the awful things she had seen. The twisted, blackened, half-skeletal remnants of a tank crew. The horrible shriek of the sirens of enemy dive bombers as they brought death and destruction. The sound of twisting metal as a tank was destro-

The tank next to her burst into flames. An ugly hole torn in its front glacis. She stared, wide eyed, as it happened again in front of her. A crewwoman bailed out from the hatch, engulfed in flame, screaming incomprehensible things. She ran a few feet before collapsing to the ground as the flames engulfed her, writhing, writhing as if possessed by the flames that consumed her body. Chen scarcely realized her driver hurriedly driving away from the burning wreck as its ammunition stores detonated. The writhing woman fell still, red gashes now torn into her back.

She shouted orders to her gunner without realizing as she pressed her eyes to the tank’s viewing ports, scanning for the enemy. Dimly, she made out the silhouette of a Lansus III, the smoke still drifting from its barrel, calling out as if by instinct its coordinates to the gunner. The concussive blast of the 45mm gun firing out its armor-piercing payload followed soon. The enemy tank’s turret ceased moving, and she realized after a second that the shot had actually penetrated, leaving a small hole where the round had impacted. Soon after, four enemy crewmen clambered out, only to be cut down by a burst of another tank’s machine gun. Another round penetrated the tank’s side and she smiled as it burst into flame.

Another tank erupted in flames beside them, from which nobody escaped. “Left! Behind that hill!” She ordered her driver, frantically scanning as the gunner slammed another shell into the breach. “We’ll circle around and take them from the flank!”

As they turned, another enemy tank loomed into view - a second Lansus III, its turret turned towards them. “Quickly, Zihao!” She screamed, eyes wide in terror.

The thunder of the gun sounded in concert with that of the enemy. Chen’s world turned upside down. Every molecule of air within the tank exploded at once, and the world collapsed into a billion fractal particles of endless noise.

The tank had been hit. Miraculously, she was alive. She felt herself over, patting down her body in stunned silence. She felt no blood, no wounds - she was alive! Alive!

A glimpse through the viewing slits revealed another joy - the enemy tank burned before her eyes. Flames licked up around its chassis, and smoke drifted from the hole torn in its side armor.

The stench of blood filled her nose, now. She looked down, half expecting to see the red ichor oozing from a wound in her own body - but her eyes alighted on her driver, slumped in his seat. One of the first men to join the unit. She stared, in disbelief, at the hole that had been torn from his body, the sunlight peeking through the hole in the hull of her tank, where the enemy’s shot had bored through its armor. The angle had saved them, she realized. Had her tank been facing straight on, their armor would have offered no protection - and she would be burning. Burning like the Alfheicher trapped within their own tank.

The gunner was alive, she realized. Acting on instinct, she wrapped her arms around her, dragging the unconscious woman out of the tank and onto the grass below. She placed a finger on her neck, confirming a pulse, before clambering back inside. She quickly gathered up everything she could from the tank - documents, submachine guns, and the photograph of her son and daughter. Chen stared at their happy faces smiling at the camera, at her own expression, free of concern. They would be four and five now, she realized. She wondered if they were still attending school, away from this hell.

Chao was still there, she realized. The driver. As if in dream she pulled herself down beside the mutilated body of her comrade, and yanked the ID tags off of him. To the side, a small photograph caught her eye, and tears began to fall. Spared the impact of the tank shell, a similar family photo stared up at her, showing another happy, smiling family.

She heard shouting outside of the tank, and snapped back to reality. Instinct kicked in, and she readied her weapon, peeking outside of the tank for a brief second to see a squad of infantry - friendly infantry - coming up on the damaged tank. She waved at them as she pulled herself out of the turret, hurriedly tucking the photographs into one of the pockets on her person. She jumped down to her gunner and nodded to the infantry that rushed past her.

She shouldered her unconscious gunner, beginning to retreat back to safety as ordered. Trained tank crews were in short supply. The offensive was doomed, she realized. A doomed, suicidal attack by those who could not stand by as their comrades were slaughtered. Yet, just like those within the city, it was destined for nothing but catastrophe all the same.

May 29, 1939: For the past four days, the radios in the city have been host to a secondary war - one of propaganda and information. Broadcasts are played to every soul within the city of surrender appeals from captive Longzhen soldiers as well as the frantic exhortations of the recently promoted General Tao Ying Huan Du Loc as he attempts to piece together whatever forces available to make a final desperate relief attempt.

June 2, 1939: The Reiyk begins intensification of their shelling program of the city, targeting infrastructure and other facilities required for the habitation of the city. Tens of thousands of civilians are killed as traditional wooden homes ignite and a massive fire engulfs the older parts of the city.

June 5, 1939: Alfheicher troops begin to advance into the city proper. Brutal street warfare commences as, though the army is rapidly running short of food, the ammunition stores within the city ensure its defenders can continue to fight.

June 13, 1939: The Reiyk has begun to bog down in the intense urban fighting. Despite the smaller stature of their opponents, soldiers of the Reiyk report Longzhen civilians ambushing their soldiers with fire cocktails, swords, and personal firearms. Entire streets are mined with improvised explosives, and advancing tanks are destroyed with jury-rigged flamethrowers and sticks of dynamite intended for demolition shoved into the viewing slits of tanks.

“Let it be known that Lin’s second guards company sold their lives here.”

Zhuli Tsaoyin Huanloc crouched next to the writing scrawled on the wall. The bodies of those who had written it yesterday scattered around her. Beside her crouched the remnants of her unit, in the burned, bombed out ruin of what she remembered had once been a new hotel built to take advantage of the city’s booming economy.

Her submachine gun burned in her hands, the bakelite grip uncomfortably hot from continuous firing, and intense heat radiated off of the metal barrel shroud. Ammunition was running low. Food had already run out. It had been two days since she had last slept, and three since she had last eaten. The squad had used the last of their amphetamine tablets hours ago. But she didn’t feel tired - only fear and anger.

The attempt to regroup with the center of the city, wherein supplies and ammunition were held by the army desperately fighting a losing battle against overwhelming odds, had failed. Zhuli’s division had been ordered to spearhead one of the breakout attempts from the encirclement. The attempt had failed - and now they were cut off from both the bulk of the encircled troops and from friendly lines to the north. The division had fought its way back through rivers of blood to link back up with friendly forces, but had been steadily depleted in the savage street fighting that had developed.

The Alfheicher were huge. Strong. Well fed and with ample supplies and morale. In the close quarters fighting that now dominated, the Longzhen tried to keep as much distance between themselves and the enemy as possible, where their semi-automatic rifles held a distinct advantage over the enemy.

But there was the Alfheicher machine gun. Still spitting an endless stream of lead that slammed into the masonry around her. The sound was like a buzzsaw, rapid and relentless. The machine gun had held them pinned here for some time now, exchanging brief bursts of fire with her own squad’s machine gunner - until a lucky grenade had destroyed both gun and user.

Another member of her squad peeked around the corner, only to spasm and collapse to the ground as the enemy machine gun opened up again. Overcome by a sudden rage, she hurled a grenade over the wall, ducking back in the nick of time as a flurry of bullets followed, followed by a sudden halt to the shooting, and the concussive blast of the grenade. Zhuli seized her submachine gun and rounded the corner, catching sight of a stunned machine gunner next to the mangled bodies of his comrades. She squeezed the trigger, dumping the remaining ammunition in her weapon into his body. She ducked behind the wall once more, her breath coming in heavy gasps as she waited for the inevitable hail of bullets.

But none came.

She was not foolish enough to look back across to the enemy position. Instead she turned to her squad - only one other woman remaining, she realized. She was alone except for this one soul, trapped amidst a sea of the enemy. Reflexively, she pulled the ID tag from her dead comrade, shoving the metal tags into her pocket. As she did so, her eyes alighted on another grenade lying nearby - a smoke grenade, apparently unused.

Acting on instinct, she grabbed it and pulled the pin, waiting as the white smoke slowly began to grow to engulf the street. The Alfheichen soldiers across began to fire into the smoke - but tellingly, without the assistance of the machine gun.

They ran in the opposite direction of the smoke, towards another ruined building. Behind them, a grenade exploded in the same position they’d been crouched, shrapnel impacting around them as they made their mad dash to the next ruin.

They take cover in a nearby building only to come under fire from another direction as another Alfheicher squad homes in
Bullets began to impact around them once again. Frantically, Zhuli looked around for their source even as she hurled herself into cover within the ruined building. Another squad of the enemy had sighted them and were closing the distance, working the bolts on their rifles with practiced ease. Her comrade raised her own rifle, snapping off two shots in rapid succession. Zhuli raised her own weapon, sending a burst from her submachine gun into the enemy, and forcing them to scatter. She ducked behind a wall, waiting, until her ear caught the sound of crunching gravel nearby. Her breath caught in her throat, and her gun rose once more, pointing at the corner as the sound drew closer.

The Alfheicher rounded the corner, and she filled him with bullets - ten of them. The gun clicked as it ran out, and the enemy collapsed to the ground before her. She fumbled for a new magazine, but her hand came up empty. She groped for the pistol she had looted, and pulled it out - and realized it too had been depleted.

A lump rose in her throat. She drew her sword, and waited beside her comrade anxiously pushing her last clip into the rifle’s magazine.

A grenade landed at her feet. Reflexively, she kicked at it, sending it flying back to whence it had flown. A cloud of dust rose as it detonated, followed by the scurrying of feet.

Another one appeared before her, his rifle raised to fire at her - but she was faster. She rushed forward, swinging for the enemy. The blade cut through flesh and bone, and blood poured down from the foe as he collapsed forward onto her, rifle clattering to the ground. She heard a scream to the side, and saw her comrade wrestling with an Alfheicher who had grappled her from behind, another one lying dead at her feet in a slowly growing pool of blood. Great ugly rents were torn in his body where her bullets had exited. Her eyes were wide, and she spat innumerable curses towards her enemy as she groped for her knife. Zhuli moved to rush to her aid, but a set of arms wrapped around her, the foul breath of an Alfheicher soldier filling her nose. She swung wildly with her sword, only to have her hand grasped in the vice-like grip of another. Slowly, the weapon was prized from her grip.

She knew what would come next. Already, they were dragging her comrade away, her screams echoing off the buildings as she struggled. Hands tugged at her uniform, and as she struggled, a knife appeared, pressing against her throat. With manic strength she seized hold of a grenade from the belt of the enemy, barely managing to rip the pin free from its housing as she heard the sound of tearing cloth, rough hands grabbing at her body.

The ensuing explosion brought death to all.

June 21, 1939: The largest air bombing campaign of the war thus far reduces much of the city to rubble, with its embattled defenders finally laying down arms after their ammunition stores are destroyed in the bombing, the blast kills thousands, and the mushroom cloud from the explosion is visible from dozens of kilometers away.

June 22, 1939: The atrocity known as the Zhanghei massacre commences. Its estimated death toll ranges from approximately 450,000-790,000. Survivors recount mass rape and mass executions. ██████ ███████████ ████ ██ ██████████ ██████. The accounts of atrocity that followed the victory of the Reiyk were so varied, horrific, and widespread that at first many within the nation and abroad began to believe they were nothing but hoaxes, until smuggled photographs were published in national media. ██████, ████ ███ ██████████ ███████████████ ██████.

████ ██ thousands of ██████ and ████████ ████ are stripped naked, beaten, raped, or ████████████ ██████ ████████████, before those that can still walk are marched into the river that runs through the center of the city to drown or are shot by machine guns positioned for the purpose. Those attempting to swim downriver are shot by riflemen on the banks. The river, at one point, becomes so choked with corpses that it bursts its banks, and in the weeks following Fusoan fishermen begin to find their nets filled with Longzhen remains.

The soldiers of the Reiyk ████████ ████ ██ ██████ approximately fifteen hundred ████ of the ████ and ██████ ███████ until halted by sunset. Officers of captured units were frequently subjected to the harshest abuses, and ██████ in ████████████ was widespread. Another favorite punishment was the ██████████ of officers followed by arming them with a knife and placing them in ████ with starved █████████ in a form of gladiatorial combat and ██████.

In one particularly noted incident, four thousand prisoners of the elite “Gaozi” division that had held up the advance of Army Group Dracus North for a full day are forced into the empty shell of the █████████████ that once ██████████ ██████ ███ ██████ that had struggled against those of the Reiyk. Many of the civilian populace are made to assist in the ignition of a massive fire in ██████ ██ ███ ███████████, which quickly begins to engulf the entire structure. Machine guns positioned by the entrances are used to gun down those who attempt to flee.

Marcus Drittus vab Scipi looked on the burning husk of the Zhanghei tank factory in amusement. The demons within screamed in their choked, twisted language. Marcus smiled, calling to the demons trapped within. “Looks pretty warm in there! You should join the others, take a dip in the river!”

One guy wonders what they’re saying, another responds that he mostly hears cries for mothers and fathers
“What are they saying, anyway?” Asked another man, his expression troubled.

“They are calling for mothers and fathers, I think.” Said another, leaning on a nearby pillar with an easy grin. “Miuzinh - mother, informal. Tauzinh - father, informal.” He shook his head, “Strange, that.”

The first man looked to him with visible confusion. “What’s strange?”

The second man, Alfus, pushed himself off from the pillar, walking over to his comrade in arms and throwing his arm over his shoulder. “Well they hatch from eggs, remember? The Longguo Demons, that is. They don’t have mothers and fathers. They don’t even feel love for each other.”

Marcus chimed in, “Don’t you remember, Flavijus? It’s a tactic they use to prey on our instincts. Did you doze off in class or something? They don’t feel love or many of the emotions we do. It’s why, like… you can do whatever you want with ‘em! They’re so damn small, too, they’re totally helpless. Hah! I fucked a dozen yesterday! Got tired after that and just shot ‘em.”

The first man frowned, obviously not convinced. “Sure sounds real, though. It just… feels wrong? Marcus, you’ve been in the army for years - I was a farmhand! I’ve never seen a demon before now. I was expecting them to look… iunno… scarier. Bigger.” He sighed, “They just look like people.”

Marcus scoffed, striding over to the man in question. “Ah don’t feel bad, kid, we all get that at first. Old Alfus here couldn’t kill one until we got him drunk enough. Remember it, Alfus?”

Alfus grinned, winking. “Oh we did more before we killed her. Let me tell you - it’s almost a shame we gotta get rid of ‘em. They put up a fight alright, small as they are. Way more fun that way.”

“And besides, greenie, they’d do the same to us. It’s us or them. Do you want some horned bitch to kill your father and start farming his land? Hah! That’s reason enough to get rid of this blasted country!”

Flames licked up the side of the factory. The occasional burst of a machine gun heralded another failed attempt to escape the horrific fate they’d been consigned to. Thin grey flakes fell amongst the conversing soldiers. Ash. Ash from corpses. Ash from rubble. Ash from the factory that burned before them. The scene was painted in the gentle grey snow that fell amongst them, blanketing the scene.

“Cheer up!” Said Alfus, “It may not be fun, but it’s for a good cause! We’re cleansing the world of their taint, taking our inheritance in hand! Each demon dead is more space for you to start your own family.”

The flames intensified now, moving through the building with alacrity. The screams intensified sharply, and the clatter of machine guns opening up met the demand as hundreds surged for the entrance. Flames or bullets, that was the fate that awaited the “Gaozi” division. Marcus wondered whether the bodies would be cremated by the flames or not. Corpse disposal was an awful duty.

The massacre was estimated to run unchecked for over a full month.

June 29, 1939. The Second Southern Army Group is forever stricken from the military roll. Its surviving members are rolled into the newly formed Third Southern Army Group, which is quickly filled with new, urgently redeployed reserve forces. The decision is made to expedite the approval of the Type 40 Medium Tank, intended to enter service in the year 1940 after final testing, owing to the inadequacy of the 20 year old light tanks that had formed the bulk of the Longguozhen mechanized forces through the slow reconstruction of an already war-damaged nation.

JUNE 30, 1939
12:52 A.M. SALIAN CENTRAL TIME

PALACE OF THE PEOPLES
MERGO, CENTRAL FEDERAL DISTRICT
SALIAN SOCIALIST UNION REPUBLIC



"How much longer shall we wait?" Levda Brons railed from the floor of the Congress, shaking in her hand the printed out telegrams which documented the atrocities in Zhanghei. A human from Salia's great western breadbasket, she still remembered the days of the Empire and had made a name for herself during both the Revolution and ensuing Civil War. Such was her acclaim, and the level to which the common soldier regarded her will, that it was often joked that the Red Army was hers and the Union was merely borrowing it. "We stand in a fine building, that we have given a fine name, but look at what we have to show for such! The imperialists of Fuso have done more to aid our comrades in Longguo than ourselves!"

A roar filled the chamber in response to the revolutionary's remonstrations, the assembly of men, elves, and dwarves whipping themselves into a furor of proletarian zeal. The Deputies had been ordered into session well after sunset on the 29th, and hours of such speeches had dominated their night and into the next day. Unusually, every Deputy had been summoned, over two thousand in all, instead of merely the Supreme Soviet or its even smaller Presidium which typically handled day to day state business. Despite this, almost every member was in attendance, for such a convocation was long expected within the Union.

The shouts of effacement and debasement eventually faded away, the energy of the Deputies spent after they had convinced each other - and more importantly, themselves - that they were free of ideological cowardice. Another voice rang out loud and clear from the floor as Ioseber Hasvil began to speak, a dwarf from the southern mountains who had also made a name for himself in the Civil War; and who had been derided as little better than a bandit in the years before the Revolution. "Comrade Brons is right. All here know that I have long urged caution as we prepare ourselves for the coming struggle, but if even a tenth of the news is true then the time for caution has longed passed. Our international duty is clear, we must aid people of all races from the menace assaulting the world."

A far softer muttering of agreement filled the chamber at the second speech, those few who had been opposed to Levda's haranguing softening their position. It was well known that Brons and Hasvil were political rivals within the Party, possessing competing ideologies and visions for the future of the Union. There were very few things that they had agreed upon since the conclusion of the Civil War, and for them to speak with one voice here and now silenced the few critics who remained within the ranks of the Deputies. All present knew that only one person could have arranged such a display.

At the far end of the massive chamber stood a lone dias beneath the grand seal of the Union, at which sat the membership of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the Congress. Both Brons and and Hasvil had descended from that dais to speak, and both returned when they had finished, the pair sitting to the left and right of the elf whose seat was in the direct center. Vliyim Ulnov had been the architect of multiple revolutions, most of them ignominious failures, but they were remembered only for the one glorious success that established the Union Republic. Though descended from a family that claimed descent from nomadic snow elves, their family had long been settled in the cosmopolitan urban centers of the old empire where the long lived race had enjoyed preferential treatment as bureaucrats, and administrators, and lawyers. Famously, they had taken the advantages granted to them by birth to spend half a century assailing, and then overthrowing, the Emperors of old. For over a decade they had guided the Party and People, having been successively elected to chair all three iterations of the Presidium. They rarely spoke directly, for they rarely needed to, making their will known in far subtler ways. A hush fell upon the chamber when they finally did.

"What is to be done?" they asked, the reverential silence turning uncomfortable. "What is the will of the People? Is it fire and death, or peace and plenty?" To their left and right Levda and Ioseber sat impassively, their faces as still as masks as the pair waited for Ulnov to bring the matter to a close. Though the three formed an effective triumvirate, it was well understood that Vliyim was the true core of the movement, the beating heart of power until their retirement or (more likely) death. They did not wait for any Deputy to be so bold as to answer their question, not that any would have attempted to. "But some fates cannot be denied. War comes to us, be it soon or be it late, and its worst face has been bared to our comrades in Longguo."

"What is to be done? If war will come to us, if war has come to our comrades, then there is only one thing that can be done. The world and the Reiyk must know that the tragedies of Zhanghei will not be tolerated. That the bonds of international solidarity between working people of all nations overcome even the oldest of prejudices. That there are lines that must not be crossed, and horrors that will not be tolerated. The people long for peace, but the road to it will be long and frightful."

"What is to be done? To the workers, soldiers, and miners of the dwarves I say the doors under the mountains must be unsealed, the fires lit and the forges readied. To the workers, soldiers, and peasants of men I say that once more you shall march, not in the name of an Emperor but for the peace and prosperity of all mankind, and not merely to war but to the fields as well. To the workers, soldiers, and nomads of the elves I say that the time has come to leave the forests, that the fury of our fathers sing out once more."

"What is to be done? War with the Reiyk, certainly, but we are called to do more than war. Our husbands and wives, our sons and daughters, shall march to war, of that all here know. But we must open our homes and cellars as well. The harvests in Longguo will be devastated, its people starving, and their homes destroyed. The same will occur to Fuso. Perhaps in time such horrors shall visit us as well, but for now we must not neglect the people for whom we fight this war to save. If we are to win this war, we must provide more than mere soldiers. Our ability is mighty, and the need is great. Only by treating all the nations as if they were within the Union shall we succeed in this greatest of endeavors. Only together shall we stand."

"What is to be done? I ask you, this Congress of Soviets, what is to be done?"

The resounding cheers and calls for war drowned out sound and thought until it became difficult to know how much time had elapsed, the throng of Deputies quietening only when their throats grew hoarse. By a unanimous vote, the Salian Socialist Union Republic had pledged itself to the plight of Longguo, fully opening its borders to the beleaguered state and pronouncing a formal declaration of war upon the Alfheiches Reiyk. Cynical elements within the Union could not help but notice that posters exhorting the people to volunteer for their international duty had appeared before dawn, often serving as the first notice many received of the Congress' decision, murmuring that the Presidium had long waited for an excuse to begin this war. Even they however could not dismiss the threat of the Reiyk, the most reactionary elements still residing in the Union chauvinistic enough to prefer a government at least run by their own kind over domination by a Sueben successor state with delusions of grandeur.

War had come, and though the first divisions prepared themselves to be sent west they were not the first bearing the red star to bring relief to the beleaguered. Trucks bearing food and medical supplies drove upon roads hidden deep beneath the hour, vanishing into the mountainhomes with the first rays of the sun, bearing the vital aid across the border. Arms and armor, materiel and ammunition would all soon follow, with soldiers in their wake, but it was these which arrived first. The great stone doors, some carved millennia ago, remained open as the first convoys streamed out - not just for them, but to permit refuge at last to the tired and dispossessed. The time had come for the Union to prove its promise not just to itself, but the world, and it rose to its task with a fervor.