Saint Helene

A time of reckoning had come. Reports of a carrier group from the Hinterferre in northern waters was the most worrying of news for the British hold in the region. The Hermit state was though staying in international waters was clearly angling for pressure. If the rebellion carried on for much longer, if there was another Trell style massacre, international pressure may see Cortraz be allowed to leave the Dominion at worse a whole slew of Sunatra Majority islands separated from the Dominion. That could never be allowed to happen, with the arrival of fourth fleet outside of Port Stanley on the 21st the Kingdoms was ready for combine Hondo British operations to retake the island.

The days leading up from the 16th to the 23rd would see an outpouring of emotions from both within Hondo, the wider Kingdoms and the Global. Many free democratic nations would find themselves divided. A well orchestrated public relations campaign by the British Foreign Office backed up by efforts from the spy agency in Room 404 would ensure that a “balanced” view would be seen. The bodies of the cops, the “civilians” waving around guns and other weapons. Yet narratives of the civilians being anti imperialist, anti communist and or anti monarchy had such a strong appeal with much of the world, that the Pro British narrative was always on the back foot. Within Hondo the Sunatra where obviously enraged, the General Strike that had begun on the 5th now roared back to life despite government concessions, with another wave of riots sweeping the northern islands leading to more deaths. While Toi and Native communities now having to deal in the north with Sunatra riots would only swing in harder behind their Prime Minster. After all the carrot had failed, they cared more than ever for law and order to not just protect what they owned but their lives. With this opinion radiating outwards through networks of families and friends to the far more peaceful southern islands. Within the Kingdoms public opinion was mixed. Growing sympathy for the Sunatra struggle for “fair representation”, the belief that the Hondo government was still heavily communist with an authoritarian streak won the rebels much in the eyes of the British public. Yet fears of colonial violence, the horrors that the civil war in Nyumbani had shown years earlier and imperial unity for now keep the public in favour of intervention. For now being keyword in that statement, a speedy end to the crisis was needed, which the Kingdoms was planning to provide.

On Cortaz the Native and Toi civilian population were beginning to openly resist the rebels. Soon incidents between “tax collectors” and disloyal civilian population would escalate to violence. This would help cause a series of skirmishes that would escalate from rocking throwing to automatic fire into civilian crowds to ensure the new government could collect “taxes”. In response a series of guerrilla attacks on the 18th and 19th as the loyalist guerrilla movement swelled in strength. Pushed further into the major towns and seemingly just trapped on major road ways the rebels found their attempts to venture into the hinterland end in costly failures. Guerrillas weren’t just helped with increased local support but an advance party of British commandos and Hondo Marines. Arriving on the evening of the 16th via small boat insertion on the other side of the island from the port. Providing an invaluable professionalism to the mostly retired veterans, scattered broken militia garrison, ex police and civilians turned guerilla. Allowing for better organisation and communication with kingdoms and between guerilla cells. With relief confirmed to be on the way they planned their attacks on the 18th and the 19th. Pushing the rebels out of the Hinterland, in a series of small unit engagements. They would then focus operation around the seaport starting on the 21st to draw rebels away from the airport. Yet the rebels weren’t finished yet.

With foreign support seemingly not forth coming, Loyalist guerrilla attacks increasing in frequency and strength, the none Sunatra civilian population turning openly hostile, they the rebels had to do something. As they rule turned from having the thinnest veneer of legitimacy turned into one only held together as long as armed men patrolled the streets. All while attempts to venture into the hinterland resulted in over four dozen dead with little to show. The various loyalist groups had begun to combine into a single coherent force. With pressure increasing on the seaport, it was believed the Toi garrison and guerrilla where in communication and planning a breakout. A spoiling attack on the 22nd by rebel forces on both the garrison and believed guerilla positions would fail. The Garrison would hold if perhaps only barely, the attack on believed guerilla positions would show evidence of a massive force preparing to attack the seaport. The rebels would then make a mistake. Knowing from foreign sources that the Kingdoms attack was less than a week away they withdrew much of their best forces to the seaport preparing to blunt a guerrilla attack and respond to a British landing attempt designed to focus on the seaport. But that was not the British plan.

23rd was show time. With Fourth fleet mere hours away from being able to launch the landing craft the battle for Cortraz begin. Airport assault would start local time at 23:00 on the 22nd. By 01:00 on the 23rd the drop of light mechanised forces of 42nd beta company and the deployment of elements from both the Red Hunters and another exo suit unit at the airport. From there they will use their ability to move quickly across difficult terrain to hit the seaport by 04:00. The landing would take place at 06:00. If all went well the rebels would be shocked by the speed, if it didn’t then it could end up being a turkey shoot.

The airport assaulted started on time. British Commandos and Hondo Marines let the guerillas go in first. The few remaining rebel Sunatra forces found themselves hard pressed. The guerrilla’s quality varied greatly, from weaponry, discipline and coordination. Yet they performed their task with the vigor of men and women fighting for their homes. The Commandos and Marines focused on targeting the few command and control positions of the enemy within the immediate battle space of the airport and their few satellite communication equipment. Rendering the rest of the rebel forces cut off from the airport garrasion reltivaly early into the attack. By 00:15, despite significant losses on the part of the guerrillas and some degree of a contact report making it way back to rebel command, the last of the rebel forces on the airport had been neutralised. Neutralised as far as the airborne forces would care. With Rebel AA silenced, the last 2 dozen rebels bunkering down in bunkers out of sight of the main landing striping, and said airship cleared of obstacles the way was clear for the first wave of the 42nd and their supporting exo suits.

Deployment of the first exo suited forces exited the back of the landed cargo plane. Already ready for combat they would move to meet up advance guerilla elements to press the speed advantage. Meanwhile the off boarding of the elements of 42nd would prepare to press adjacent to the main highway from the airport to the sea port. They were going slower than expected to off load their light APCs and handful of IFVs, so local command decided that keeping momentum was better than attempting a combine but delayed strike. Pushing the Red Hunters through the ruff terrain of the hinterland they would begin to attack enemy forces around the seaport at 03:30 with assistance of as of yet uncommitted loyalist guerilla elements. With rebel drone and statics forces clustered around the main highway they found themselves poorly positioned. As the Red Armoured Exo suit units burst into the outer suburbs from the hinterland they crashed into a series of light patrols and effectively nightwatchmen. With these forces designed more to keep the “Law”, then fight a line battle with British special forces. With the Rebels high command only loosely understanding what had occurred at the airport, these light forces had no preparations to fight off the exo suit spearhead assault or reinforcements easy on hand. Lacking night vision or anything heavier than a rifle they would get slaughtered in the close quarters fighting that would follow.

04:07 42nd beta company arrived in force and into the town. In the previous half an hour the Red Hunters backed up by loyalist guerilla forces had carved a brutal swath of destruction. Their path of destruction was only halted but the arrive of foreign trained and out right foreign forces. Who disciplined fire, heavier weapon fire, proper squad tactics and willingness to shoot through friendly’s, halted the rampage and nearly smashed the scattered Red Hunters forces. It was 8 minutes into the Rebel counterattack led by the last of their IFVs that the 42nd arrived. Having isolated the few static troops left guarding the highway the 42nd now raised hell. Destroying block houses and seizing checkpoints. An attempt to divert part of its counter attacking forces into halting the 42nd would cause confusion and jams on the road. Quickly Rebel command and control would degrade further till it finally collapsed outright before 05:00.

By 05:15, with fourth fleet providing further aid in terms of air strikes and long range sea to ground strikes, it was clear the rebels were lost cause without any outside help. Soon attacked in the rear by the garrison sallying forth, breaking through the now undermanned blocking forces would soon run amok in the rebels rear areas. At last the foreign fighters would take their leave. Mustering their strength in one final attack they smashed through a Red Hunter squad and pushed eastward along the island edge. Planning to retreat to a cove and using a small number of hidden civilian ships to slip away they would find themselves in an ambush. Autocannon and missile fire, would top and tailing the convoy of the foreign troops. Stuck in a classic kill box the less than 5 remaining squads would attempt to fight on. Yet trapped between the jungle of the Hinterland, the sea and the ruins of their lead and rear vehicles they would be slaughtered to a man. No quarter was given or expected as successive off shore strikes and heavy fire from heavy weapons saturated the combat zone. The scattered survivors would attempt to flee yet each would be picked off by well placed traps and sniper fire.

By 05:55 the British forces began to land unopposed. By the time the sun rose fully at 08:21 the town had fallen. The majority of remaining Sunatra Rebels had surrender. A few last Sunatra hold outs had retreated into the hinterland in a disorganised route. It takes days for the last of the armed pockets across the island would be crushed or surrender to the liberating loyalist froces. But before lunchtime in London Proper news crews were already reporting the end of the rebel struggle on Cortraz. Casualties had been light for the professional British and Hondo forces. Between 546 combat personal deployed to retake the island only 19 were casualties. The Loyalist Guerrilla death toll was over three time that at 64, yet the cost had been worth it. Rebel Sunatra deaths were over 270 combat personnel, with the 46 confirmed foreign fighters killed to the last man. The Red Hunters was the British force that taken the most losses, caught in the fierce fighting at first only supported by light infantry. The initial Toi airport garrison would see 42 of its number killed, 30 falling when it was initial seized by the rebels. The port garrison would be reduced to a mere 38 from its starting strength of 70 but they had done more than merely hold. All of them and their commander specifically would be hailed as heroes, doing press tours and giving interviews in the weeks that followed.

The rebel control had turned quite the toll on the island, attacking not just Toi but nearly all the successful business in the areas they had tightly controlled. This more than anything ensure those few survivors would find even the vast majority of the Sunatra ethnic population turn against them, let alone Toi and Native population. A loss in hard power came from the conventional liberation of the island and the effective anti guerrilla tactics the British in wake of their landing. This would see fair weather allies to be lured away as the rebels only grew weaker. The Kingdoms was a veteran of this type of war, fighting it already in Nyumbani, Listovia and Hanconnia. They started by isolating the remaining rebel units that had tried to go to ground in wake of their conventional defeat. Tempting away moderate supporters with the Hondo government pushing through reforms under this period of democratic ascendency. Then letting the rebels’ desperate actions forcing even schism within its die hard supporters, as they turned on their own to feed their men under arms. This was similar to what happened across the northern islands with the Grand General Strike, though without direct British forces intervention. Though the Trell massacre had breathed new life into the movement, reforms, the blocking of a large section of strike funds from within and abroad. Then of course changing in policing tactics and personnel. Milita forces would do nighttime raids to seize illegally owned firearms and arrest local leaders on suspicion of treason. Though they few would be charged merely held for a few days till and even less got convictions, it did its job ensuring that a mass rallying to do another Trell or to snowball into another Cortraz could not happen. While police were now permanently armed, backed up by Toi and Native militia able to plug the manpower gap that had allowed Trell police station to be over run in the first place. As the anarchic riots were beaten down by truncheons, or scattered at the arrival of armed militia men, or diswayed form gathering due to loyalist patrols. Order was being restored, day by day, island by island, street by street, as trash was cleaned up, things were looking up.

The Hondo prime minster, after usurping the WU party control via emergency decree and promising change, there were still fears in the populace. Fears that once the WU party council regained control, the amnesty and conciliatory direction would all come to an end. As the Prime minster power to control the dominion was only while emergency laws backed by the King. And as the crisis came to an end his grip on power would weaken. No crisis, no need for the emergency laws, then all the work would he had done would be rolled back… right? Under this atmosphere of impending dread, 4000 mostly Sunatra elites linked to rebellion would over the coming month would leave the nation. A sizeable number that would also leave would be Toi, supporters of the democratic faction fearing the WU party council seemingly invertible return to power as the crisis began to come to a close. Yet the Hondo Prime Minster backed by the democratic faction within the parliament would not go down without a fight.

Patten was out of mercy. With London Proper more concerned about securing long term control, they were willing to accept Patten radical pacification plan. He promised, that though in the meantime FOM activity would be strengthened by the martyrdom of their already captured leadership their organisation would in time be crushed. Through curfews, mass imprisonment and further militarization of the territory. Once dealt with the colony would have a ruling majority made of Ha and British population. The Sessian refugee population and Sessian restoration hold outs, would be made to give up their loft endeavours or so effectively supressed they would no longer be an issue for governance of the territory.

Two nights after the Manor Hall speech of the 15th, would see sweeping raids. These raids had been set up with the laws set out in Emergency bill 6 on the 16th. Starting with a series of language laws would passed, designed to supress Sessian separatism and bring the Ha into governance. With Anglish (English) being the main administrative language up until this point, the Hanconnian language (also know as west Sessian) would be raised by the bill as an official second language of the land. With all state bureaucrats in the territory to be expected to have at least a basic grasp of both languages, though Anglish was still clearly favoured. With Patten using these new language requirements to purge any he believed were sympathetic to the FOM or democratic factions within the colonial government. While Ha felt ever more attached to the current British rule, with protections they could not ensure to keep if they were followed into a wider Sessian nation dominated by east Sessian language.

While these two twin languages would have to be taught in all schools, with all other languages not allowed to be taught in a formal setting to those that had not yet reach year 10 (14 to 15 years old). It was assumed that the major German school for the few German expats children left in New Oldenberg would be immune from this law, yet the letter they received on the evening of the 16th, informed they were not. As the 17th came to an end the raids began. East Sessian language schools mostly set up for the refugees were the main targets. While a handful of Hanconnian schools that had still refused to do the dual language system would get politer morning visits on the 18th, once again Patten favouritism was shown. Concerning was just how many of these schools could be linked legitimately to fund raising or cover operations for the FOM. It suggested that the FOM had recognised what had up until now been a kingdoms blind spot, one Patten refused to do ever again.

All East Sessian language newspapers, already under tight governmental media restrictions were simply out right shut down. East Sessian language bookshops found themselves getting regular visits from the police to ensure that none of them were help encouraging “sedition” behaviour. Particular the police were on the look for was a series of books sponsored by the now victorious Zelene Federation during the civil war. Another favourite was the Tale of a Green Army Solider. The book had detailed instruction on the creation of IEDs and ambush tactics the Green Army had used against the Sessian “Monarchy”. This was accused by Patten to be less a biographical work by a now retired veteran but an instruction manual to FOM, simply owning this book could land you a multiple year jail sentence under the criteria that Bill 6 outlined. A bookstore now caught selling such texts would be closed and the owner would serve harsh and lengthy stay in a cell.

The Previous captured FOM leadership would get that oh so promised retrial. Starting on the 17th, an attempt by family members and supporters to stage a supporting demonstration would be stopped by the deployment of a company of the 25th Mysorean Medium infantry. The unit becoming a clear favourite of Patten, yet to kill any demonstrator and keeping the number of injuries low they had proven their worth. Even Gene would admit though heavy handed and cold at time despite violent provocation they had kept their cool and avoided turning their guns on civilians. The trial had little news coverage even from international press. Lungha and Germanic news crews found themselves frustrated and blocked by the new security apparatus. As though immune to censors they neither had the rights to sneak into a closed trials that were ongoing. What little news got out about the 7 day trial portrayed the FOM leaders as members of a wider network undermining peace in the territory. They were linked “strongly” not only to the bombing by the Order of Bosch but a half dozen other small organisations that had planned similar attacks. For their “role”, not matter how tenuous, killing of both USF and British deaths, for killing Ha civilians 4 out of 6 would be executed. Found guilty without a jury, the judge only spared 2 from the fire squad due to them cutting deals. Officially due to the young age of 1 and the fact the other still had young kids, both would provide valuable information though it had become some what outdated…

FOM would try to start demonstrations, though their small cell like organisation had ensured infiltration proved less effective it made mass mobilisation nearly impossible. The common man had for economic reasons turned away from the rioting and looting that had plagued the early days of the crisis. Though such actions had not completely disappeared the deployment of so many soldiers on the streets, in the trio of major cities had kept the rioters most of the time in check. As the risk to benefit of a round of looting fell to far the other way. USF and British checkpoints, raids on their schools and bookstores that had acted as hubs for fund raising had weakened the movement greatly. Yet friends abroad, Ha businessmen “playing the field” and still large stockpile of material kept them in the fight. Two attacks before the end of June, one with a planted bomb at a USF checkpoint and an attempted assault on a police barracks would be their only major movement they could muster. The death of 1 and 4 occupiers respectively, in said attacks would cause another series of raids by British authorities. This intensify of the crack down and the bad press that followed would see a few more cells of the wider movement fall. Yet it would help radicalise the movement and give the valuable experience for further operations. They were preparing for perhaps the first multiple cell coordinated strikes as they began to evolve their rebellion structure from this wider embryonic stage to something though smaller, hopeful more effective at resting the occupiers. As any peaceful course of action was eliminated with the shutting down of parliament, only violent action remained. As if they could force the occupiers to reopen parliament they be able to use the large Sessian voting block in a universal suffrage system to win breathing space for the movement. Which from there they could chose to either continue a violence focused form of resistance or a peaceful and slower method using the democratic process.

It was the economy that Patten had struggled the most with. The bombing by the Order of Bosch had seen the conflict expand truly out of New Oldenberg. Fears had seen further capital flight, with the authoritarian measures he had taken in response had seen further capital leave the struggling colony. If it wasn’t for opportunistic British, Lunghanese and CRC (Commonwealth Renewal Commission) investors it was likely the colony economy would have collapsed. Though the mass rioting had been effectively supressed the desperation that had caused had remained. Limited increase in welfare had help the poorest, but poverty rates had barely declined. This was temporary, Patten argued securing law and order would naturally life the colonial economy out of the rut it was in. He had hoped New Oldenberg port becoming fully functional by the end of Summer should hopefully help. FOM had other plans, as they prepared both a counter bill (a list of demands) and a demonstration of resolve (violent action).

Wider British colonial policy had left the Southern Fusea Region security to that of its now empowered dominions of Southern and Nyumbani Dominion. Expecting both nations that had stood against London Proper demanding concessions, to be able to assist further in the wider region defence. After getting the defence spending concession they had demanded for in a crisis of imperial governance that had help to creator the previous Liberal Kingdom admin. Now with the freedom, funds even beyond their initial demands and retro active blessing for all of their “illegal” actions they had done for Crown and Country.

Yet the transfer from the British Occupation Zone to the Borun Dominion, with its capital in the now renamed to Nova White City (was called Red City and White City pre revolution), was having problems. For one its protectors where full intending to set the dominion up for enriching themselves over having it enrich and improving itself. The loss of outlining territory to the Nyumbani state had weakened the new dominion government even further in the eyes of the Borun people. Though few would miss the 1 million Haru who had pushed to unification with their Nyumbani kin, the loss of territory and prestige or face was still damming. The third major catalyst for the events was the BNA and HLA now being off their leash. With them having fled into what had been the joint occupation zone both organisations were quickly increasing their strength. The BNA was main threat, yet the matter of the HLA had the chance to cause further issues due to sympathy one of the dominions had for the movement and the distrust the other had for it.

With the Borun government chaffing under their fellow southern dominion overreach, the loss of territory and other minor gripes like the little matter of being conquered, it was little surprise that many in the new dominion were willing to support the BNA. The BNA overall goal was a reforming of a Borun state within nearly the whole territory that had been the RCF ignoring mostly what had been part of Cowbridge. With Borun dominion not being allowed to have an army by its two southern “brothers”, it still wanted one to give it at least leverage. For even those who were willing to serve the Kingdoms still chaffed under there southern dominion brothers. Using murky accounting, both loyal to the crown and those seeking full independence within the Borun government would see money meant for other project funnelled into the BNA. Nyumbani was in a similar awkward position with the HLA.

The Haru Lords Army (HLA) had competed some of its goals by the Borun having given up territory to Nyumbani. Yet with still hundreds of thousands of Haru living in what was the joint occupation zone their overall goal to unite all of the people of Nyumbani under the rulership of Numban. A greater Nyumbani concept to complete their national awakening. For the current government in Numban, under the Iron Lady Susan, they feared overreach. With a focus on economic stability and growth in light of the ending of the war with the RCF. The refusal to intregate her government even party with the HLA was due to differing goals. Afterall the HLA goal of a greater Nyumbani would harm trade with the dromion greatest none Kingdom trade partner in Yemet. Not to mention the HLA leadership being outsiders both political and literally to Nyumbani, or worse the outcast, rebels of Susan new system, who till the forming of the HLA lacked a cause. Despite what the HLA could offer, Susan and the upper rungs of her administration had turned against it. Afterall, Nyumbani was a nation who for so long of it short post colonial history had to fear the specter of communism had just at last that ghost banished. Why bring in a specter of an ultranationalist delusion? Yet not all within Nyumbani ranks thought this and their fellow southern partner had a far more pragmatic approach.

The Southern Dominion (FID) different outlook, was due it being more focused on wealth extraction. As such it had at first believed that the BNA and HLA were both destabilising forces that could get in the way of them making money. Yet with the BNA able to hypothetical and starting to withdraw to the now Yemetian zones of control, out running the Kingdoms reach the HLA could offer something quite valuable. A grey force able to do battle with the BNA in all theatres and give New London plausibly deniability. With attempts to disarm the Borun militia set up by the last Liberal government of the kingdoms failing, as they had nearly all vanished with their arms to join the BNA, New London responded. As the ninth army was transitioned to a more standard Kingdom armament, reports that their old stocks of weaponry were disappearing would be kept hidden from both London Proper, Nova White City and even Numban. Quickly these weapons began to appear in HLA hands. It was also hoped that by using the HLA as a back door it was possible to obtain more influence over Numban by using the sympathies for the HLA within certain parts of its administration…

As the last Kingdom official forces withdraw to Nyumbani and Borun dominion, the first moves had begun. A simple workers strike in Nova White City would herald bad times to come. With local Borun police lacking the manpower (and realistically will) to break it up. With in the end requiring units from the ninth army to disperse the crowd and end the strike. With all of second army and most of the first set to leave the South Fusea to the North Fusea operation zone, things would only getting worse and everyone on all sides new it. The Southern Dominion focusing on growth and control of its new proxies. Nyumbani focus on economic growth by ensuring stability . Then at last the Borun focusing on shaking off its new master to regain a modicum of independence or perhaps even more...

Set on one of the Southern most islands of the Fusea Island Dominion (FID), the war games would see a Zulthyrland force, assisted by the British Royal navy doing a contested landing assault it what amounted to be local militia units backed up by a few select mercenary forces acting as the stand in for more elite standard forces.

The four day action would see Zulthyrland forces stride to victory. From an easy landing despite an attempt by the militia forces trying to contest it, their superior training backed up by better weapons and overwhelming fire support from sea and air assets, turned it into a cake walk. From the beaches they fought on through a set of plains, annihilating the 95th Home Guard militia force that had attempted to halt their advance in a rushed counterattack. At last, their final goal was to take an urban centre, here on the third day of wargames a series of problems would crop up for Zulthyrland forces.

Supplies, especially fuel was being used at a higher than expected rate, the precarious supply chain from the sea to the beach to the troops was soon being harassed. Keeping much of their small artillery reserve hidden up until now, the defenders would sink a trio of supply ships designed to interface to the temporary dock facilitates. It was only through game master intervention allowing “new” ships to enter the combat scenario and the destruction of these batteries by Zulthyrland air power that kept the offensive moving, even if greatly slowed.

The mock city fight was just as hard the mercenaries and the remains of the 95th used terrain, prepared defences and the close quarters to negate the attackers superiority in fire power. With the mercenaries being near parity helping to reduce the difference further. Despite a bitter resistance the game master would force the defenders to begin an orderly withdraw at the start of the fourth day, citing the defenders “fears” of being encircled by off map forces. This allowed for Zulthyrland forces to capture the city earlier than expected and winning a great media victory.

The Wargames if it wasn’t clear was set up for a conventional Zulthyrland win. The real goal was to improve military coordination between their forces and the Kingdoms. While also stress testing the integrated logistics of both forces. The militia would get improved readiness, which could be very useful if the situation elsewhere in South Fusea continued to developed not to the Kingdoms favour, while the mercenaries got healthy pay checks for light work. Overall, it acted as a very good PR stunt for both nations and gave a few valuable lessons that had to be learned at some point if they intended to work together in the long term.

The diplomatic talks that were tied with this where perhaps more interesting. Zulthyrland was getting a firsthand view of the kingdoms new foreign policy. While the actual lawyers argued over definition of words to make the next set of treaties the diplomats went else were. A manor house made in the early 17th century style, it had therefore small windows. Had an artificial river around it acting as a moat. Spiral stairs designed to be more similar to that of castle. With a long list of minor details could fill a whole page that made the place feel like a castle in minature. What mattered outside such defensive infrastructure was that this manor house was not built during or after the civil war of the 17th century. But instead, just after the start of the 19th, a copy of a similar building owned by the same family that had built the original in Scotland over a century before. This made it a good analogy for the Kingdoms Southern most dominion, that despite its readiness it had never seen blood on its shores in a major war. It was also an out crop of that wider Kingdoms civilisation transplanted onto Fusea, calling to a past it had technical never been apart of.

There the British North Osea strategy and Zulthyrland part was laid bare. The Kingdoms had no intention to become a world power and was arguably as far off from such a position as it had been in the 90s. It wanted instead to avoid another global spanning conflicts that had plunged mankind to the edge of destruction in the 20th century. Instead the Kingdoms was seeking independent regional allies to contain threats within their regions before they became a world spanning threat. Zulthyrland was in the kingdoms view the natural ally in North Osea, outside of Lungha sphere of influence and really any great power sphere. Zulthyrland could be built up to be that independent force. It was up to them to decide how far the Kingdoms aims lined with there’s.

The Kingdoms economy was starting to recover, with Hondo armed conflict over, the Nord Dominion (what was once Wardency) political reforms pressing on without issues, fears of critical energy and resource shortages had at least been lessened. Fears of compete imperial break up had been for now quashed. Yet with troubles still in the south of Fusea and the Kingdoms limited Osea territory (Hanconnia), the market was still shaky if the bottom had been reached. This would see though increasing flow of capital into British industry yet not a tidal wave. It was clear to the new kingdoms government that its future lay within its ever growing colonial empire and overseas trading network. With that in mind it needed to encourage investments to move away towards internal empire investments and links with its trade partners.

Most capitalist nations had since the second half of the last cold war had begun to deficit spend even in peace time. This had gotten worse and worse till the abrupt end of the last cold war, yet the deficit spending seem to only intensify in a world free of a communist super power. With British capital having been one of the many hidden pots to fuel this unprecedent deficit. This had ensured steady returns, yet by rising interest rates banks and pension funds would have to look for higher returns despite the risk. Yet even as this new government had swept to power and the Bank of Angeland interest rates had risen the vast sums remained tied up in foreign government bonds and safe home island business debts. A second rise would have by itself done little. Yet the conservative government had a way to encourage investments.

The Commonwealth Renewal Commission, a series of large investment house backed up by both the Bank of Angeland and His Majesty seal of approval. They would look to invest into colonial projects to get them off the ground, with the Bank of Angeland would underwrite an amount of the investment houses capital to ensure even if a majority of the ventures went belly up they may lose a shirt or two but not their whole wardrobe. This would start to have the desired affect with colonial investment trending up yet the capital had to come from somewhere. Though many home island business would chaffy under the difficulty to raise capital at lower rates of yester year but it would be foreign government that would be punished the most. With less available capital it was clear that the long term low interest bonds that many government relied on would begin to fade. Replacing where shorter and or higher return bonds, to court the ever shirking pool of available capital.

It was that second part of the kingdoms plan, to grow its global trade network that the foreign ministry would strive forward. Reaching out to Canineia, Naragia, Laversiche hydrogen, Krecuny and Zeneslav. Each would be offered to join the same body that Duswya had joined long before, the Commonwealth. The organisation goals were at first to bind nations with significant close cultural and historical ties with the kingdoms together. Through trade law standardization, naval cooperation to protect each other and a defensive agreement. It had an attached parliamentary body that lacked any more and was merely to represent the separate nations to help nations articulate their position on usually trade laws and proposals. With the kingdoms expanding the scope beyond those it sharded cultural and historical ties with each of these nations would be invited to join the lose organisation. The offers would give the nations access to the kingdoms vast existing trade network, diplomatic support and likely more favourable terms on governmental debt with British banks. In return the kingdoms would be able to get further trade partners and equal partners in different parts of the world. Which would help drag the Kingdoms further away from the far east.

Lèoslàv could not stop staring at the paper he held in his hands. He had no idea how it got there, buried in his breast pocket, right next to his silver gilded pocketwatch. Yet, there it was, tangible as tangible could be. The message printed on it gave him chills every time he saw it.

“BUDEŚJ VJ POMÒŹOT”
Cs. Kazanòva 115/04
1600 Cśevàljsk, Ter. Kàpjtala
17:30 – EJOPÒZNAVÀTAJ

“We will help you. Don’t be late,” he read aloud. He knew that address. That was Vàrda Korùja, on the far side of the city. It wasn’t one of the greatest parts of the National Capital Territory. Still, it made the gleaming jewel of the nation sparkle in its own way. Why on earth did he have this address in his pocket? What did it all mean?

The pawprint on the back made it no less enigmatic. Was it something from the Leopardistanis? From the Tshetics? Even some of the Savodsk had a pawprint like that. A chill ran down his spine as he realised that the paw might not even be feline. Alone he stood in the hallway with a card given to him by the Canineians. The jet black pen markings stood muted against the lights in the hallway. Each stroke was embossed. Each stroke was deliberate. This was not written in a hurry.

Someone had to know about this. Someone close to him.

The card held steadfast in his pocket as he raced down the halls. Every time he bumped into someone, he held his eyes shut. “Important business! Sorry!” was all he said, unsure of who at this point was KSB, CSB, or Coworker. He made his way up the stairs to the fourth floor of parliament, and rounded the corner to perhaps his favourite place in parliament, and…

The lights were off in Vejnààr’s office. Lèoslàv nearly crumpled to the floor in a sad heaving heap. He peeked inside through the blinds. The office was well and truly deserted. Papers were strewn all over the office. His prized photo of his Auntie was snatched from its shrine on top of his filing cabinet. Had they taken him? Lèoslàv could only guess. He was now well and truly alone.

Who could he tell? In times like these, he had to puff himself up. Lèoslàv took a deep breath in and stuck his chest out. He was in the parliament for a reason. He was given his first term for a reason. He was chosen… by a man attempting to blackmail an entire nation who was now invading his territory, but he was still chosen. What would a good leader do in this situation?

By 4 PM sharp, his office was locked, and he was out the door.

The screams reached his ears before the smell of smoke hit his nose. Lèoslàv had to press his way past a sea of terrified workers running the opposite way. The front windows of the parliament building were stained orange from the light of the flames. He could barely see through the crowd of carnage that was spilling from the mouth of the metro station entrance. He kicked himself; there went the easiest way to Korùja. Buses were likely out of the question as well, at least until he could get some fair distance away.

Out the side door, the young minister slipped into the evening fog, effortlessly blending with the frightened faces fleeing the violence. A taxicab pulled straight over on the wave of his hand, and he barely had time to leap in as a police cruiser came flying the opposite way.

Captain Valerjèv was by no means a wolf. When it came to his work, however, he meant business. Standing in front of him was the biggest business he had ever seen in his life. With a hand steady and an expression of stone, he raised his finger towards the protesting crowd. “Alright, men!” he shouted to the officers behind him. “Get in there, quell the riot. Separate, isolate, disarm, pacify. Everybody go, go go go.” And off they went.

Foxes and horses in the crowd were pushed back by heavy plastic riot shields. Their muzzles smooshed against the barriers with each step back they took. Little by little, man and mer were segregated, split into isolated groups, then dragged down as individuals. The moment someone was pulled from the mass, they were slammed to the cobblestones and cuffed. Methodically and robotically afterward, the officers moved to the next person.

Many attempted to fight back. One officer stumbled to the ground after receiving the mother of all headbutts from an angered Konjecsev. A kick to his side from their foxen friend joined the physical torment. Rioters were tackled into the dirt; emerald-green uniforms caught fire from thrown petrol. Within ten minutes, the officers had exhausted their supply of zip-ties and cuffs.

The first shots rang out two minutes later. A human who made a desperate grab for an officer’s holster buckled forward, his shirt blossoming red. Only then did the roar of the crowd collapse into a chorus of screams.

Lèoslàv was far away from the noise by the time his taxi arrived. The buzzing of the car’s motor fell off into the distance. His footsteps echoed through the shadow-cloaked alleyway. Save for a drip of water or a scurry of a rat, they were the only sounds that graced his surroundings. After a few seconds of exploring, a heavily accented voice forced its way into the soundscape.

“Bendźamjn Narjmanjèv Lèoslàv?” it asked simply, a cigarette lighting a deceptively human-like face.

The Minister stood tall. He squared his shoulders. The flame reflected in his glasses. “Who are you?”

The same question swam through the shadows. “Bendźamjn Narjmanjèv Lèoslàv?”

“Yes,” he scoffed. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Close enough,” the voice answered in Common. Goosebumps traveled up Lèoslàv’s arms. He picked up the subtle yet unmistakable rumble of a van’s engine. The shadow-cloaked figure stepped out the alleyway and twitched his bright grey canine ears. “Ceart go leor, isteach sa veain é!”

Very roughly, the minister was grabbed on both sides by a strong pair of hands. All light was blocked from his vision. His lips caught the feel of smooth, velvety fabric. The hood over his head fit snug.

“Hey! Let me go! Abduction of a cabinet minister! Abduction of a cabinet minister! Anyone! Help!”

The minister couldn’t hear through his panicked screams a deep sigh sail across the breeze. “Tá sé róglorach, cuir gobán air.” Lèoslàv didn’t understand what that sentence meant. Soon, however, he didn’t have to. His jaws were forced apart by a large rubber gag. Wordless now were his screams. Muffled now were his expressions. “Cúramach, bí cúramach. Tabhair aire do do cheann,” one of the captors said to his side. His head smacked the floor of the van.

The grey-haired CSB agent climbed into the front seat of his inconspicuous grey van. Lèoslàv was propped up against the firewall. The side door slammed shut with a heavy thunk. The tyres screeched and smoked against the bitumen. His centre of gravity shifted forwards. As the van sped away into the distance, Lèoslàv knew he was well and truly

–

“GONE?! HE’S GONE?!”

Surrounded by a pod of operatives stood Vjktòrjèv. His face was contorted and twisted beyond all repair. His cheeks glowed a radioactive red. “What do you mean he’s GONE?!”

"Well, sir.” An officer close to him scratched his neck awkwardly. “His office is empty. The lights are off. CCTV from the first floor saw him blend into a crowd of employees fleeing the metro station. He must have slipped out the side door.”

“And you let him?!” Vjktòrjèv roared.

“What were we supposed to do?” scoffed another officer. “Split the crowd like the Red Sea and yank him out by his necktie?”

“YES! You make sure he stays put, you worthless sons of–” And he caught himself. The words lodged in the back of his throat. He put his fist right to his larynx and coughed them loose. Vjktòrjèv straightened his necktie. His shoulders rolled back perfectly clockwise. He looked straight ahead with a loose, detached look. His voice was low, buttery smooth. “Do you know how much this tiny little miracle of political science PhDs matters to our operation? Eh? Anyone?” No one dared to answer him now.

“That’s a shame. Maybe that’s why this all happened. Let me educate you all. If he gets out, we have no Dylan Greenrock under our thumb. We have no Canineian Tunnel Project to strangle the nation. We have no political leverage. We have nothing. Chieftain Growler sends his flea-ridden dogs into our nation. As soon as he cripples the capital, well, just one teenie tiny thing, no real significance–

“YOUR HEADS WILL BE CHOPPED CLEAN OFF YOUR NECKS, AND I WILL BE THE ONE TO DO IT BEFORE THEY CUT OFF MY OWN, BECAUSE THAT MEANS YOU ALL HAVE FAILED!”

Every KSB in the room shrank in absolute terror. Vjktòrjèv swept his eyes from left to right and rolled his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Which means that now, until we get him back, we need a Plan B. So, let’s see… Eenie meenie miney… You! You there! Whatever your name is.” The unfortunate man to whom Vjktòrjèv pointed instead pointed to himself. Their fingers sank into his stomach, and it dropped fifty feet. “Yes you,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Congratulations. You’re the new acting Minister of Transportation.”

“But Sir Minister,” the newly-crowned official stammered, “I know nothing about public transit!”

Vjktòrjèv was ready with a counter. “Did you ride the subway today?” And when the Minister nodded his head, Vjktòrjèv grinned. “Right. So you’re already qualified for this position. It’s easy. So easy. All you have to do is do exactly what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it or you’re fired. Got it?”

The Minister nodded his head. “I think… I think I got it.” He was shut clean up when Vjktòrjèv raised his hand toward him.

“Why are you still here? Go! Get out of here! Go hang photos of trains on your wall or something. And while you’re at it, go steal a plane ticket from someone because you’re going to meet Dylan Greenrock in two days, and I do not want you coming back until you’ve made us the deal.”

“W-Wh-Who’s Dylan Greenrock?” the Minister asked.

“GO!” was Vjktòrjèv’s only reply. The Minister scurried away with a shriek.

“The rest of you, synchronise your watches. Tell Group A that in five minutes I want the parliament locked down and crews running up and down these halls. I want Lèoslàv here. I want Vejnààr here. I want Ruuvaro here. Nobody leaves this building without my permission. Tell Group B to take all of our Hùndjashòvnjks and send them to Canineia. Send them all. Now. Everyone goes in with their current instructions.”

Vjktòrjèv looked out the window at the smoke filling the sky. “I know they’re the ones behind this today. If they want a war, they’ll get a war. Make no mistake, gentlemen.

“We. Will. Castrate. Them.”

A chorus of cheers erupted from the room around him. Vjktòrjèv nodded and straightened his tie once more. “Now, go.”

–

“Go, go, go,” the officers outside Ruuvaro’s office called to themselves. The leopardine minister could barely keep her head on straight. With the activity close to her own inner sanctum, all she could do was hang her head in her hands and breathe as shallow and raggedly as she could. She took a singular deep breath in through a mouth barely parted. The fur on the top of her head rustled and a thump was heard right on top of the precious mahogany furniture. Ruuvaro shot up like a rocket.

Sitting on the desk, upon further inspection, was a deep blue canvas bag. Ruuvaro’s breath hitched in her throat. Inside was the KSB uniform she had returned to Jeff just that morning, and a hastily-scrawled note on top.

“N O T D O N E Y E T”

The air vent swung shut above her with a rusty creak. The stomp of boots raged outside her door. Ruuvaro’s pupils shrank to slits. Her claws grabbed the beige fabric with haste. Stepping into the hallway, the leopardess pulled the brim of her hat down over her eyes. She began speedwalking in the only direction she could: out. She had barely descended the stairs to the first floor of the building and forced the door open when she was stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hey there!” a KSB captain yelled out. “Just where do you think you’re going? You’re supposed to be protecting the west wing!”

Her fur was matted with sweat. Her whole body was shivering. She clutched the fake badge on her uniform and turned to face the captain. A deep breath filled her lungs.

“I, um, I… I am going out for a smoke break.”

“We don’t pay you to smoke on your time, rookie,” the captain clapped back. Ruuvaro puffed up her chest and ran her tongue around her fangs.

“Yeah? Do you pay me to tear that dumb beige hat in pieces? You have a stressed-out leopard here. What happens if she doesn’t get her cigarettes?!”

The captain frowned. “She gets back to work.”

Ruuvaro snarled and flicked a single claw out. The captain held his head back as the claw was pressed to his neck. “She gets back to work, and she flips her lid. That’s how people die, captain. So I say this again, let me take my god damn smoke break.”

The radio on the captain's belt burst to life with static and screeching feedback.

“Security Team to Floor Four! Security Team to Floor Four! We have a Code J! Code J!”

“Hell,” the captain said with a blink of his eyes. “I need to take this.” He paused for a minute as he reached for the radio. Ruuvaro was flashed the barest hint of a smirk. “I like you. Take your smoke break.” And with that, he held the radio to his mouth and ran away. Ruuvaro collapsed as soon as he was gone, crumpling to a heap on the floor. Her breaths were ragged and shaky, barely there. She sounded like she had been punched clear in the stomach. She picked herself up. This was no time to stop. She had to make it out the front door.

The fresh air she gulped down as she threw the doors open was divine. Freedom. For a leopard, a den was a home. Now, free of the invaders that threatened her personal space, she had nearly everywhere to run.

This time, however, she had a direction. Right on the other side of Cs. Vlàda, rising cold and monolithic into the smog, stood the stark gray concrete spire of the KSB Directorate. Somewhere in the infinite annexes of that tower, her three lead researchers were locked in isolation under Vjktòrjèv’s heavy guard. They had her data, her life's work, and her team.

A low, dangerous rumble hummed in her chest as she pulled her cap low. It was her turn to invade the den of her enemies.

–

Vejnààr was already on the platforms of Cśevaljsk Central Station by the time the metro had stopped. He saw the smoke pouring out into the open air near the parliament and bit his dry lips. He hoped Lèoslàv was safe, wherever he was. A gentle five-tone chime foreshadowed the departure of his train out of town. As it turned out, a parliamentary salary gave Vejnààr the money to take the express train anyway. All he hoped was that Vjktòrjèv would take the bait and search the regional services instead.

His train began rolling promptly when it was supposed to. There was minimal delay, minimal deviation. Quickly the train picked up speed, soaring on elevated tracks across the densely-packed city. “There are a lot of planes taking off from Hùndjashòva today, I hear,” someone said from behind him. His ears flicked. He looked up from his newspaper to glance through the seat-back gaps. Another voice, a feminine one, joined in. “Yeah, I know. They’re all full, too. My sister just got taken off of one.”

“Tell me, now,” the first voice sighed. “How do they overbook flights that weren’t even full?”

“Beats me. She can’t even get another flight. Every single one is full.”

“To the other cities?”

“Uh huh. Everywhere. Zeneljuv is full, Konyair is full, O!Wing is full, nothing’s available…”

Vejnààr at this point spoke up.

“Pardon me, I am sorry for interrupting… She can take the Gammur High Speed train over into Princeborough and try flying from there. The Gammur is cheap, even for Green Class tickets. In my opinion, it’s better than flying.”

The woman at the window seat brightened a bit. “Yeah, the Gammur. She can do that. I’ll text her. Hopefully she can catch one.”

Leaning back in his seat and facing forward again, Vejnààr felt a deep pit in his stomach. Every single flight out of Hundjasdòvj District was booked solid. No seats available. This seemed oddly familiar to the horse. It could be just a coincidence. He took a sip of the tea in his thermos.

“No good, honey. The Gammur is booked solid too.”

Vejnààr clutched his throat and choked. Across the aisle, a coat-cladded man took a sideways glance at the horse and wrote something down in a notebook. As Vejnààr got up to clean himself off in the train’s toilets, so too did the man.

–

Lèoslàv tried to make sense of where he was in space. He could feel the ground rumble underneath him through the vibration of the tyres. He could feel his body sway as the van leaned left and right. He could sense, then, with his near encyclopaedic knowledge of the city and its roads, that he was on the C-204 Peripheral. They were traveling clockwise… perhaps… The lean to the left told him he was going anticlockwise. Perfectly near kilometre stone 87.

For an ordinary commuter, kilometre stone 87 was a pointless wayside milestone. For him, however, it meant that in three seconds, he needed to brace himself. Three. Two. SMACK! And his head hit the firewall as the van stomped on its brakes. He couldn’t see what had happened through his hood, but the flash was captured perfectly in his own mind.

“Fuair an ceamara luais diabhal sin mé arís!”

Right on cue, he heard the driver’s frustrated cries. Much to the annoyance and bewilderment of his captors, his lips curled up into a smile, and a quiet laugh managed to slip past his gag. He never stopped laughing until the sun set.

–

Vejnààr bumped into the man as he left the lavatory. All he could give was a tired side-glance and a soft mutter. “Sorry, did you need to use–” and he stopped. A KSB badge caught the light underneath the long dark jacket. Vejnààr felt cold as the world closed in around him. The man made a grab for his hands, and Vejnààr responded nearly instantly. A sharp neigh masked the screams as the stun baton was driven hard into the man’s stomach.

He propped the undercover agent on the toilet and jammed the door shut, giving it a sharp kick for good measure. His heart pounded through his chest. He looked around the train car’s hallway. His ears twitched and he leaped back toward the wall. His pager was ringing.

He glanced down at the message printed in seven-segment across its face.

“YOU FUСKED UP - OV”

Vejnààr’s breathing quickened, and quickened, catching up with the train. He weighed his options for a single half-second, and dove for the Emergency Brake.

–

“How long will you spend in Canidae Harbour?” the border guard groaned without looking up from the passport.

The Canineian on the other side of the desk gave a warm, neutral smile. “As long as I can, a chara.”

“What is the purpose of your visit?” the guard asked for the seven-hundredth time that day.

The Canineian concealed a set of KSB-branded papers in his trousers pocket and met the border guard eye-to-eye.

“I’m coming home.”

A tv turns on in a nicely decorated and comforted home. A large L shaped couch is set not far from the TV and a father sits down to enjoy a show he has been watching for months. His right arm is comforting his wife and his left a bag of popcorn. In the background you hear kids playing sounding like they are upstairs. The Show starts and a EAS system starts on the tv but quietly. In red words with a black background has sequenced "It is to in our greatest despair to share this sad news to our people that His Imperial Majesty King David Tupou XVI has passed away"

The Wife sat up and the husband change the channel. They both yelled at their childeren to come down "This is really important for you both" she yelled

this kids ran down and asked what was happening one of the daughters asked "mom i dont know why yall called us down here but i actually need to g...." then she stoped mid sentence to watch the tv because her mom pointed frantically they both sat down on the floor one after the other and they looked in confusion

then the TV broadcasting went to a special broadcast of the Tongan Broadcasting Service. TBS Anchor Angel Soifua sits in her seat and holds papers in her hand to stabilize herself. "Good evening I am Angel Soifua, With great sadness Ma'afu Palace has announced that His Imperial Majesty King David Tupou XVII has passed away "

The mother started to sob. "He had been my king my whole life" she said speaking between sobs.

The father looked at the tv with that look most fathers do when their deep in thought.

The Kids were looking with pity but didnt think much of it because they had other things to do.

"at the age of 75. Thank you for giving us your time to give you this information"

Her Majesty gently takes her hand away from the cold hands of her father. She ultimately knows now that it is her duty and responsibility to be the next direct leader to the Greater Tongan Empire ant its relm and subjects. She feels that weight and understands what she needs to do. The dominoes are in place for her coronation to the crown.

she looks at her fathers cold body calmly and warmly states "It is my time to use your teachings"

To the shock and glee of the globalist economic world, the Fylkirate of Svipjoth has not only permitted the first imports of foreign goods into the country, but additionally the establishment of franchises from foreign businesses.

Shortly after Fylkir Beinlaus’ ascension to the throne and the Fylkirate’s subsequent exit from its over two-hundred year isolationist policies, the government established a series of agencies that indicated to the rest of Strangereal a further opening of their country: the Foreign Export Bureau, and more critically, the Foreign Import Bureau.

Established in line with the Svipish economic preference for autarky, the Foreign Import Bureau limits all imports to those deemed non-essential. The purpose of this limitation, as cited from the Svipish Advisor of Economics, Starkadr Gnupsson, is to safeguard the country from any form of importation that could jeopardise the national economy.

In a historic first for the Fylkirate, the Foreign Import Bureau has published its first decree of approved imports. These include:

- Kaiju Express, from the Republic of Lungha: A Pan-Asian fast food restaurant that serves a variety of locally-sourced (whenever possible) meals, from chicken chow mein and takoyaki to pad thai and bubble waffle.
- Burrito Baron, from the Kingdom of Cridsaoghail: A Mexican-adjacent fast food restaurant that serves burritos, tacos, enchiladas, and other cuisine (Editor’s note: any combination of tortilla, cheese, and protein qualifies as a menu item).

Negotiations are on-going with other foreign companies, including numerous bids from various soft drink companies in Lungha. It remains to be seen when the first international stores will open across Svipjoth and what products they will offer.