NationStates Jolt Archive

"For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed,
All murdered -- for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court,"

............................--Richard II Act Three, Scene Two

---

Charles Bradsworth held the copy of Lord Inswick’s ring lightly in his one good hand while he considered it. The memory of that night in Golden Agate, oh so long ago, was fading quickly, as were all those of the early days of the Revolution.

“You’re leaving, then, are you?”

Bradsworth snapped his hand closed around the ring and looked up to the doorway, where Ben Rinehart was leaning on his cane. Bradsworth rapped on his heavy mahogany desk, a gift from the East Gallaga Company to the Combined Parliament in ages past, and forced a smile.

“Afraid so, Ben. I just wish I could I could haul this away with me.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’ve been thinking of retiring to North Daldonia,” said Bradsworth as lightly as he was able to. Rinehart didn’t have anything to say to that, so Bradsworth sighed and continued. “Look, Ben, I know you’re upset --”

“Damn right I am! What is this yellow-bellied running away, eh? I never once saw you run away during all those years soapboxing and fighting, and now what? One lousy vote and you scurry away as fast as you can.”

Bradsworth coughed into his hand, as much to buy time as because his throat itched.

“I think you’ve lost faith in the Revolution. That’s it, isn’t it, Charles?” continued Rinehart.

“Not quite,” said Charles. “I believe in Iansisle and her people. That’s why I have to go. This is exhausting work, Ben, and four years has quite drained me. I’d like to just take a while to myself -- raise horses, perhaps, or fall in love.”

Bradsworth grinned at the irony of his words. Here he was lecturing a man twice his own age about weariness.

“I can’t do it alone,” said Rinehart as Bradsworth picked up his box and started walking down the hall. Their shoe falls echoed off the silent marble corridor.

“You’ll never be alone, Ben. You have the people of the greatest country in the world to help you. I know it sounds corny, but you have to trust in them always.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Probably. I’ll always be here, in case the Republic ever needs me again, and I will come back should that happen.” They reached Jameston Place itself. Bradsworth clapped Rinehart on the shoulder. “Well, I suppose this is ‘good-bye,’ old friend.”

“I suppose it is.”

The two men, who had known each other since the earliest days of the pre-Yoke protests, faced each other in solemn silence.

“God speed, Charles,” said Rinehart at last.

“Thanks, Ben. And good luck! -- I’m counting on you.”

Then Bradsworth stepped into the rented Westerton Jackrabbit that was waiting for him, stowed his box, and carefully pulled out onto Gallaga Street.

---

For a man whose death was night, Citizen James Callahan -- or was that High King James III of the Grand Empire of the Shield? -- was surprisingly calm. He sat in his cell below the marble halls of Jameston Place and awaited the morning.

Not many people knew about the prison beneath Jameston. It housed the most prestigious prisoners of the Republic. However, it was not a dark, damp recess like the dungeons of Dûn Ádien. James’ cell was the size of a modest flat and well appointed as well; he was even allowed Weathers as a servant.

Weathers. James stomach contorted with guilt; he felt far more sorry for poor Weathers than he did for himself. It had been his own Goddamn foolish crusade -- his last ride to glory for the honor of the House of Callahan -- that had led them here. Led five thousand Foothillsmen to their death and many more to mutilation at the Wonwhich Pass and Ducksbury. And tomorrow it would lead Weathers to the gallows.

James still remembered Wonwhich Gap. He had never seen anything as horrifying as the Foothillsmen’s charge torn apart by Ranalte’s machine-gun fire: bodies torn apart and flung to the ground like bloody rags. He remembered seeing the Republic’s hussars charging out from behind their lines to cut down his men as they fled; never before had his blood burned so hot. Spurring Mave into a gallop had been as natural as shouting, and the entire royalist cavalry rode down to meet the republicans. That ferocious melée was more of a blur, but somewhere in it Mave had been shot out from under him and tumbled with all her weight upon his right leg, pinning him to the muddy ground.

James’ leg ached again with that memory. It had never set properly, of course, and James doubted that he would ever lose the limp. A lack of exercise along with far too much rich food combined to run James’ once athletic form; he was now almost forty pounds heavier than he had been just six months ago. Maybe he would wear it off.

Of course, he thought, I suppose I have but a day left to live. How far away it seems!

“Can I get anything for Your Majesty? Some tea, perhaps?” asked Weathers. His voice, though barely ten feet away, sounded as distant as the foghorn of a collier off Feinwick Point. James wondered if Weathers blamed him for the imminent hanging. If he did, there was no sign of it.

“Fetch a looking-glass,” James said at last. Weathers did not.

---

It was a morning much like any other in Ianapalis. Grey clouds hung low over the city and drizzled down a ceaseless rain. However, the mob still packed Gull Flag Square as tightly as they could. Some elbowed their way as close to the front as they could get; traffic in both directions of Revolution and Republic Streets was completely blocked in both directions. In the center of the crowd, the gallows awaited its first royal neck.

Thirty nine years ago...

http://members.optusnet.com.au/a_marrington/ns/pantocratoria.jpg
His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty Emperor Isaac V Capet of Pantocratoria

The Premier of the Assembly,
Gull Flag Republic of the Iansislean Peoples

Monsieur le Premier,

It is with the gravest concerns that We write to you to protest in the strongest possible terms to the pending execution of His Majesty King James I of Iansisle, sometime High King James III of the Shield, called Citizen James Callahan by Iansislean revolutionaries.

His Majesty's judicial murder would constitute a grave affront to justice, to international law, to God, and to the natural moral order of things. The King's execution would bloody the hands of your fledgling republic and gravely compromise its credibility as a legitimate state. It would also serve to create a martyr around whom opponents of your revolution could rally, and a martyr is infinitely more valuable to such people than a living figurehead.

We urge you to grant clemency to the King, whom your revolution has already deprived of so much. You have taken his crown, why must you now also take his life? If you grant the King a reprieve from his sentence of death in exchange for a lesser sentence, such as exile, then it may be possible for normalised diplomatic relations to be established between the Gull Flag Republic and the Pantocratorian Empire. We fear that His Majesty's execution would prove to be a next to insurmountable impediment to such a normalisation of relations ever occuring.

We pray that God forgive you of your sins and grant you the good wisdom and compassion to grant mercy to Our royal cousin,

By Our own hand, in the fourth year of Our reign, in the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator, New Rome,

ISAAC IMP.
By the Grace of God, Emperor of Pantocratoria, Autocrator of the Romans, Caesar Augustus, King of France and Navarre, Equal of the Apostles, God's Vicegerent on Earth, et al

*tag*

*sputter*

((Huh Huh wha?? It's time to cry havoc and let loose the poodles of war! Er, time to speed up my plans.))

The Premier of the Assembly,
Gull Flag Republic of the Iansislean Peoples

Monsieur le Premier,

It is with the gravest concerns that We write to you to protest in the strongest possible terms to the pending execution of His Majesty King James I of Iansisle, sometime High King James III of the Shield, called Citizen James Callahan by Iansislean revolutionaries.

His Majesty's judicial murder would constitute a grave affront to justice, to international law, to God, and to the natural moral order of things. The King's execution would bloody the hands of your fledgling republic and gravely compromise its credibility as a legitimate state. It would also serve to create a martyr around whom opponents of your revolution could rally, and a martyr is infinitely more valuable to such people than a living figurehead.

We urge you to grant clemency to the King, whom your revolution has already deprived of so much. You have taken his crown, why must you now also take his life? If you grant the King a reprieve from his sentence of death in exchange for a lesser sentence, such as exile, then it may be possible for normalised diplomatic relations to be established between the Gull Flag Republic and the Pantocratorian Empire. We fear that His Majesty's execution would prove to be a next to insurmountable impediment to such a normalisation of relations ever occuring.

We pray that God forgive you of your sins and grant you the good wisdom and compassion to grant mercy to Our royal cousin,

By Our own hand, in the fourth year of Our reign, in the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator, New Rome,

ISAAC IMP.
By the Grace of God, Emperor of Pantocratoria, Autocrator of the Romans, Caesar Augustus, King of France and Navarre, Equal of the Apostles, God's Vicegerent on Earth, et al

Thomas de Fenne had never wanted to be the Director of Foreign Affairs; he had wanted the Gallaga Office more than anything. But that fool Appleton had not resigned when Bradsworth left, and Rinehart had been all too happy to shuffle the firey de Fenne as far from domestic politics as he legally could.

De Fenne had also made a name for himself before taking up the cause of Gallagan independence as a staunch anti-royalist, even back when the King was considered an integral part of Shieldian democracy. So it was that the personal letter from the Pantocratorian Emperor found itself in the hands of the least sympathetic person possible in the Republic.

“‘Judicial murder,’” he mused to himself, reading over the missive. The whole letter, he though, dripped with arrogance and condescencion. Relations between Pantocratoria and Iansisle had been rocky these past few months -- as indeed had been relations with every state in the world, even Lunatic Retard Robots -- but Thomas de Fenne was in no mood to meet what he saw as an insult with petty apologies and empty promises. James Callahan was a traitor to the Republic; he would meet a traitor’s death on the gallows, as had many before him.

Mr Capet,

Your concerns have been noted. However, the Gull Flag Republic is unable now to alter Citizen Callahan’s sentence. As you may well know, a national referendum was conducted following Citizen Callahan’s trial of 6 Fluînosa V* to decide his sentence; that referendum overwhelmingly showed that the People of the Shield do not wish to subvert the law in Citizen Callahan’s favor.

Citizen Callahan pricked the Republic, and it bled on the field at Wonwhich. He attempted to poison the Republic with an army raised among the barbaric Foothillsmen; it was only by the narrowest of margins that we did not die. He has wronged us, and we shall revenge.

Enclosed is a copy of the Assembly’s Declaration of 4 Nevinosa V**, which further outlines the basis of the Republic’s case against Citizen Callahan. We stress further that no special exception can be made in this case; it is the will of the people.

Long live the Republic!

Thomas de Fenne, Acting Director of Foreign Affairs
At #3 Jameston Place
39 Cupodìnolo V***

Enclosed in the same envelope:


IgnoreChange, be it a natural part of man's world, is often hard to accept. However, it is perfectly natural and even preferable; every system, every way of life, when allowed to linger past its life expectancy, starts to rot from within.

IgnoreWhen an existing system embraces change and rides along with it, it may continue fundamentally unchanged in perpetuity. Contrary, when an existing system becomes set enough in its ways as to react violently against change, it is perfectly normal for those resident within that system to rise up, sometimes violently, and demand a better way.

IgnoreFor far too long did that government, known as the Grand Empire of the Shield, rest upon institutions three centuries old and pay only lip service to the reform that was solely needed. It fell to that age-old corruption, greed, that strikes down all archaic systems, and exposed gaping wounds that its officials were well-advised to ignore.

IgnoreThe Iansislean people spoke loudly against that corruption on 4 August 1952. As one body united, they struck down the fetid corpse of the Corporate System and its Imperial lackeys. Iansisle's first constitution was drafted and fair elections, free of the taint of Corporate money for the first time in modern Iansislean history, were held the next 18 May. One man, James Callahan, was allowed to call himself King without the consent of the People United.

IgnoreThat man betrayed the trust placed in him by the framers of the Constitution of 1953 and, by doing so, betrayed the trust of the People. He has raised an army in defiance of the People's Will among the reactionary Foothillsmen and intends to depose the Freely Elected Government. Many foreign powers have expressed an interest in seeing this rebellion succeed. For them, the People’s Government issues the following promises:

LET IT BE HEREBY DECLARED

IgnoreBEING THAT NATIONAL SOVEREIGNTY is only derived from the People in Fair and Honest elections, never again will a King or Queen answerable only to himself or herself be acknowledged as the Sovereign of Iansisle.

IgnoreBEING THAT THE PEOPLE are the Shield, and the Shield is its People, never again may a single man claim Lordship over the entire of the Shield nor any part of it. Only the Government, freely elected by the People United, may legislate to keep the Peace and Order.

IgnoreBEING THAT EVERY MAN on the Shield was Created by the same God: All men are Citizens of the Republic, and all Citizens shall share equally in the Republic's rights, its responsibilities, and its glory.

IgnoreBEING THAT THE RIGHTS and liberties of Iansisle are threatened by those who would circumvent the Will of the People expressed in the above Declarations, the People pledge themselves to fight equally against those traitors who would destroy their Equality as those invaders who would take their Freedom.

AND

IgnoreBEING THAT TRAITOROUS ACTS to destroy the Republic and the People whom it represents cannot be tolerated in any form, all those engaged in Enterprises to suppress the People’s Will and the People’s Government will be Hanged at the Neck until Dead. There can be no mercy when the Rights of the People to govern themselves are at stake.

WE THE UNDERSIGNED, elected by the People in fair and open elections, HEREBY COMMIT OURSELVES to defend, until our dying breath, the principles hereby outlined and to never falter in our righteous cause.

CHARLES BRADSWORTH [i]Premier and Member Assembly for Sâdôrâ
BENJAMIN RINEHART Director of Foreign Affairs and Member Assembly for Pentonshire South
RICHARD APPLETON Director of the Gallaga Office and Member Assembly for Editraequán

[the list continues for 137 total names, representing every Gull Flagger and Grand Streeter in the Assembly. It concludes thusly]

THADDEUS WHIT Member Assembly for Mansbâr Nor
LAWRENCE MADDERS Director of War and Member Assembly for Eastergate

LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!

(note: that was issued before the Revolutionary calendar was adopted)

*Feb 5th 1957
**Dec 20th 1956
***Jun 18 1957

*tag*

*sputter*

((Huh Huh wha?? It's time to cry havoc and let loose the poodles of war! Er, time to speed up my plans.))

((Larky! you haven't deserted me!

So, that gives us Julius Caesar. I already had Richard II and I just added Merchant of Venice. Let's see how many more we can get!

Oh, and speaking of ...something, I threw together a little something for all those curious people out there. It's rather long, so it follows in the next post.))

A Brief Timeline of the Iansislean Revolution
For those of you who haven’t been paying attention

1948
June: Lawrence Madders organizes the Grand Street Steelworkers’ Brotherhood. The union is kept secret to avoid RM&M reprisals.
September: German-Chiangese War ends.
October: Charles Bradsworth returns to Iansisle; takes up residence in eastern Ianapalis

1949
July: Bradsworth’s first street rally near St. Adie’s in Eastergate. Crowd numbers some 25-75 people.
[unknown month]Walmington on Sea bombs New York, Detroit, and Washington, D.C., starting the “Walmy War.” After a few short actions, the RIN sweeps the USN from the western Pacific. Iansisle lays siege to Manila. The war quickly proves unpopular.
October: Bradsworth’s rhetoric becomes increasingly antiwar. Crowds now average between 1,500 and 4,000.

1950
February: Bradsworth’s St. Valentine’s Day rally summons over 7,500 people. He is ordered by police to clear the street; Bradsworth marches across MacDunn Street to Unity Square, followed by nearly all the attendees, and continues speaking from the base of Tri’s Pillar.
March: Upset by the popularity of Charles Bradsworth, the Combined Parliament summons him to a special session. Bradsworth is appointed as a Special Ambassador to the Alliance of the New Highlands and dispatched to Golden Agate, Larkinia.
June: Iansislean and Filipino forces finally capture Manila. However, Filipino nationalists are disappointed to find that Iansislean promises of independence were false.
September: In response to growing protests, the Iansislean government signs a peace treaty with the United States, leaving their Walmingtonian allies to fend for themselves. The RIN’s Walmington Station squadron is withdrawn.

1951
September: The Combined Parliament begins considering submitting an application to KIST. This provokes violent outbursts from both capitalists (who feel that free trade will threaten traditional Iansislean monopolies) and labor activists (who bemoan KIST’s neo-liberal stance).
December 5: Madders’ first Grand Street Steelworkers’ Brotherhood ends in bloodshed despite the government’s insistence that RM&M not use force to break up the strike. RM&M instigators hide amongst the striking workers and fire on government troops sent to monitor the strike. Lawrence Madders is exiled to Roania.
Late December: The Combined Parliament votes to enter KIST.

1952 (I)
Early January: The East Gallaga Company, in consultation with Royal Mining and Manufacturing and the Iansislean International Telegraph Corporation, lands 3,000 troops from the Gallagan Army in Ianapalis and takes control of Jameston Place during a meeting of the Combined Parliament. The Corporate Yoke begins.
April: Following rumors of unrest on the Shield, Roanian authorities smuggle Madders back to Ianapalis.
May: Foreign Minister the Earl of Inswick tries to sneak a message to Larkinia, Iansisle’s strongest ally, about the corporate takeover of Parliament.
late May: The battleship Gurney is sent to bombard Fort Jackson to punish the Westerton Motor-Car Company. However, the utter ruin of the city sparks a Weshieldian resistance movement which deposes the mad King of Weshield and declares a republic of the leadership of Todd Andrews.
June: The rumors of unrest in Ianapalis become too strong for Charles Bradsworth; he departs Larkinia for Iansisle.
Early July: The largest revolutionary groups meet in St. Adie’s and draft a treaty to help each other oppose the Corporatist government. Bradsworth’s symbol -- a white spread-winged gull soaring on a red field over a green shield -- is adopted as the symbol of the Revolution, whose supporters are hereafter known as ‘Gull Flaggers’.
Late July / Early August: The Gull Flaggers break past the last corporate lines on Sarawak Street and infest Jameston Place; a last minute attempt to smuggle High King James III to Thortraia fails. Although the loyal battleship Princess Royal attempts to land marines to secure the High King, Bradsworth’s forces capture James and move him deep into the city.
August 3 (5 Gullaréa I): James Redford (commanding Princess Royal), James, and Bradsworth sit down and draft the Gull Flag Declaration. James agrees to accept constitutional limits on his power and rule as ‘King of Iansisle’ rather than ‘High King of the Grand Empire’.
August 4: Charles Bradsworth, by an overwhelming majority, is voted Premier Interim of the Constituent Assembly (tasked with drawing up the first Constitution).
Late August: The new United Kingdom of Iansisle signs a treaty of friendship with the Weshielder Republic. Revolutionary activity supported by Beth Gellert continues in Wyclyfe.
Late August: Tharia becomes the Sentrian Empire as Alphonso de Sentria (nephew of the Archduke of Sentry Island, who died in Healdsburgian exile) claims the Sentrian throne, vacant for more than fifteen hundred years. The United Kingdom does not recognize the new government and refuses to cede Sentry Island to the Empire. Emperor Alphonso I holds his court at Thesia until such time as Analia can be recovered.
Early September: The governments of Gadsan, Noropia, and Trooboda sign a pact pledging to each do their utmost to restore the Grand Empire.
Early September: Thortraia refuses the United Kingdom’s request to extradite criminals from the Corporate Yoke. Some two hundred men are tried in absentia and sentenced to death by the United Kingdom.
Early September: The United Kingdom and Weshield agree to invade Thortraia to recover the prisoners.
Early October: The United Kingdom’s Army of the Daldon moves into Thortraia under the direction of Field Marshal Pennyman.
Late October: President Andrews diverts the Weshieldian armies into Mansford, quickly overrunning the poor country; the invasion results in the famous Massacre at Shield’s End, where more than 1,000 men, women, and children are slaughtered in three days of pillaging. This invasion is condemned by the United Kingdom as brutal and unneeded; the two countries sever ties.
November: The United Kingdom completes its conquest of Thortraia; nearly all Corporatists are returned to Ianapalis. However, a few prominent actors -- such as Jessica, Princess of Thortraia and William Ashtonbury -- cannot be recovered and escape in the Javian Kingdom. The Javian Kingdom, in desperation, sends an embassy to the Pater in Effit.
December: Weshield attacks Shieldian armies in Thortraia. Although the campaign is initially successful, the better-discipline of the Shieldian troops combines with the murder of Todd Andrews by his lover to throw back the Weshieldian troops. By the end of December, Weshield is fully under the control of the United Kingdom, which now controls five of the seven kingdoms of the Shield (Shadoran, Vesshampton, Thortraia, Mansford, and Weshield). Only the Javian Kingdom and Wyclyfe remain independent.

1953 (I-II)

February: The Javian ambassador to Effit is falsely accused of assassinating the Pater with a bottle of poisoned wine. The radical party of the Senate gains control of the country and orders the invasion of Gadsan.
April: Terrified by the Effitians, who quickly overran their northern defenses, Gadsan abandons its treaty with Noropia and Troobodia and begs for help from the United Kingdom.
April: Gadsan is annexed to the United Kingdom. The country mobilizes to meet the Effitian threat.
April: The new constitution of the United Kingdom is finalized.
May 18: The first elections in the history of the United Kingdom are held. Charles Bradsworth is elected Premier by an overwhelming majority. Lawrence Madders (elected MA Eastergate) initially declines the post of Director of War, though he will later accept.
June: The Army of the Jaizar, under the command of Marshal Pennyman crosses into Gadsan. By now, Effitian armies are just two day’s march from Lakeriverwood.
August: Field Marshal Pennyman is forced to abandon Lakeriverwood and withdraw to a more defensible line south of the city. The retreat is seen as cowardice by the majority of the Iansislean population. Pennyman is recalled and sentenced to death by a military tribunal. Field Marshal Chapman is promoted to take Pennyman’s place, but largely continues Pennyman’s policies.
August-present: Purges of military officers continue. While some good men are killed, most of the incompetents who marked the Royal Iansislean Army are also removed.

1954 (II-III)

Year largely not role played. Stalemate ensues in Gadsan, taxing the United Kingdom. Madders’ radical faction starts to gather support.

1955 (III-IV)

Year largely not role played. Stalemate continues; the Gadsani river valley becomes a meat grinder. Each army now numbers over 1,000,000 soldiers; given a Shieldian population of 68,000,000, this is considered extremely large. Friendly contact is made with Lunatic Retard Robots. Charles Bradsworth is reelected, but with a narrower margin of victory.

1956 (IV-V)

The early part of this year was largely un-role played

September: King James becomes discontented with the rise in popularity of Lawrence Madders’ radicals.
Late October: Thomas de Fenne, an MA from Vesshampton, begins preaching the decolonization of Gallaga.
Early December: King James sends the royal family away on a hijacked Gallagaman. They are to make for the Valinor embassy in Knootoss.
Early December: With his most trusted retainers, James escapes Dûn Ádien and rides north to the Javian Kingdom. The public largely views this as an act of treason in a time of war.
Early December: Under popular pressure, the King is written out of the Constitution and a Republic is declared. All those Assemblymen refusing to swear an oath of loyalty to the Republic -- who compose the entire conservative wing -- are expelled from the Assembly.
December: James starts raising an army of Foothillsmen to help him reclaim the throne of the Grand Empire.
December: The Army of the Daldon is reformed, this time under the command of Nicodemo Ranalte, a dashing young Sentrian Major General. The Army of the Daldon is primarily composed of new conscripts and troops rotated off the front lines for fatigue.

1957 (V-VI)

Early February: James’ army, composing of some 30,000 untrained Foothillsmen, marches south. They meet the Army of the Daldon at the Wonwhich Gap south of Ducksbury in northern Shadoran. The Army of the Daldon routs the Royal Army and pursues its survivors into Ducksbury. All told, some 5-6,000 Foothillsmen lose their lives, as opposed to hardly 150 republicans. The Javian Kingdom is annexed to the Republic.
Early February: James is tried by the National Assembly and found guilty of, among other things, high treason, murder, and tyranny. The sentence of death is suspended pending a national referendum.
Late February: The remainder of the Army of the Daldon is combined with VIII Corps to form a new IX Corps on the Effitian Front.
Early March: A winter offensive against the Effitian Line (without a heavy bombardment to anticipate it) is launched. A breakthrough is achieved when, at Greater Wimmers on the left flank of the line, an Effitian munitions dump explodes. Effitian soldiers mistake the explosion for the dreaded Shieldian artillery and take cover. Elements of VI Corps take Greater Wimmers and, according to Marshal Chapman’s standing orders, turn southeast and start rolling up the Effitian line, which promptly begins an ordered retreat into prepared positions. However, IX Corps, under General Ranalte, is the reserve force in that region. Flagrantly ignoring both standing and direct orders to support VI Corps, Ranalte takes his force on a forced double-time march due east, interposing themselves between the Effitians and their defensive positions. Thinking they have been completely surrounded, the Effitians in the Greater Wimmers sector panic; the defeatism spreads down the line and the Army of the Jaizar suddenly finds itself with a major breakthrough.
March: Rather than earn him a dishonorable discharge, Ranalte’s performance at Greater Wimmers is dubbed a “Nelsonian Blind Eye” and he is awarded the Ian Cross, much to the disgust of Marshal Chapman. Ranalte is treated to a hero’s triumphal parade in Ianapalis
Early April: Lakeriverwood is retaken.
May: The Republic is drawn into a legal debate with Valinon and Knootoss regarding the royal family, which is currently being held in Rotterdam.
May: Bradsworth is reelected for a third term, but the division between him and Lawrence Madders is razor-thin.
Early June: The results of the national referendum are returned: by a 77% majority, the Iansislean nation voted for the death of their former King. Charles Bradsworth, who had supported an exile for James, resigns at the news. Ben Rinehart is appointed Premier Interim, with Thomas de Fenne rising to fill the foreign office.
Early June: Issac V of Pantocratoria sends a letter to the Gull Flag Republic.

And there you have it!

Kingston

The mood in the Robotstani capital is violent on the eve of James Callahan's execution. Monarchists from the Plant neighborhood, the only part of Kingston that could be described as clean, or safe for that matter, stream out to clash with the sizable Marxist from the Harbour neighborhoods. Parliament district sees most of the fighting, broken bottles and bats the weapons of choice. Policemen, some of them armed with Lanchester SMGs, but most with revolvers and truncheons, try to break up the riots with tear gas. Inside Government House, protected by a squadron of armored cars, the Foreign Minister and his council contemplate the significance of ex-King James' execution on Robotstani foreign relations.

"It's clear as bloody day! The Valinor won't tolerate us messing around with the Shieldians much longer, and if we have to choose, I say we choose the Valinor!"

"There's no need to get worried, Pierre. I doubt the Valinor expected Callahan to live anyway. He was a dead man the minute the Gull Flaggers found him, and there isn't any denying it."

"Perhaps we could send them a telegram asking to commute Callahan's sentence?"

"What good would that do?"

(I-Man, check your TG's. Man, where's a good group of Imitorians when you need them? ;) )

OOC: Can I use the Arbiters? I want to use the Arbiters...

Palais du Parlement, New Rome
June, 1957

Louis Maîtres, Minister for Foreign Affairs and heir apparent to the ageing Imperial Chancellor of Pantocratoria, Pierre Conomos, took a deep breath and brought his hand up to knock on the Chancellor's door. He paused for another moment and suppressed the bile which rose up from deep within whenever he came into personal contact with Conomos, with whom he had struggled over the leadership for the Pantocratorian National Democratic Party for years. Over the past month he had started to build momentum once again for a new, and final, leadership challenge in the PNDP caucus, and the air about the Palais du Parlement was thick with a sense of the impending political bloodbath.

"Something wrong, Minister?" the Chancellor's secretary prompted, wondering why the Foreign Minister had spent the last thirty seconds standing in front of Chancellor's door without knocking on it.

Maîtres frowned, shook off the remark, and knocked on Conomos' door.

"Come in." came the hoarse voice from within.

The Foreign Minister opened the door and stepped inside. The aged Imperial Chancellor looked up at Maîtres from behind his desk with that special sort of contempt reserved by politicians for their very worst kind of enemies - rivals within their own parties. He bit down on his pipe a little and wordlessly motioned to the lounge suite in front of his desk, before rising from his seat and moving towards it. Maîtres took off his coat, hung it on the coat rack, and then moved over to the lounge.

"It's going to take a while to get the smell of that pipe out of this office." Maîtres remarked.

"Maybe." Conomos growled. "But while it's still my office, let's keep our meetings productive, you know, pretend like we're actually running a government?"

"Yes, Chancellor." Maîtres smirked. "Iansisle is going to execute its king tomorrow."

"I know that." Conomos replied.

"Their reply to the Emperor's letter wasn't exactly diplomatic." Maîtres observed.

"The Cabinet knew it wouldn't be when we read the letter prior to the Palace sending it." Conomos shrugged. "The important thing is that the letter was sent."

"Chancellor, the Emperor's upset about this. It doesn't do us any good to have him upset, you know that, especially in this case..." Maîtres said. "Before Iansisle's civil war... six years ago, King James agreed to a constitution. The United Christian Front has already been making a beat-up out of the Iansislean revolution, saying that we want the same thing here, that a constitution is just a first step on a path to massive social upheaval and complete anarchy. If King James dies, his death gives that argument a personal face. The public will start to take notice, and we can't have any of that."

"Yes, democracy is always so much simpler when the public isn't watching it." Conomos nodded in mock agreement.

"Take notice of the UCF's argument, I mean." Maîtres snapped. "And if the Emperor wades in..."

"One thing I don't think we'll have to worry about is the Emperor is him wading into public debate." Conomos interrupted.

"His father..." protested Maîtres.

"His Majesty Constantine XXIII made a lot of loud noises of dissatisfaction with this Government. Cost us dearly in the polls, and would've stopped us dead in our tracks had he been prepared to follow through on his grumblings with action. I don't dispute that an Emperor is capable of running roughshed over an Imperial Government." Conomos waved Maîtres' argument off dismissively. "Just that this Emperor would do such a thing. Writing this letter is as involved as the Emperor will get, and he only did that because we asked him to. Yes, I'm sure he'd hate to see the King executed tomorrow, but he won't cause any problems for us by talking about it, not that His Majesty's talking about it would cause us any problems."

"It could undermine the case for a constitution..." Maîtres started.

"The constitution is dead." Conomos sneered.

"It's the party's whole raison d'être!" protested Maîtres.

"It was the party's whole raison d'être, Louis." Conomos shook his head. "The constitution died the first day of the first PNDP Government. The party's real purpose for existence now is winning elections. You know that. You're just reinventing yourself as a man of manifestos and grand, sweeping change to position yourself for another run at the leadership."

There was silence for a few seconds. Maîtres knew what Conomos was saying was true. The debate over the form of a Pantocratorian constitution had destroyed the Bordeaux Government of 1904, and since then, subsequent PNDP Governments had generally studiously avoided the topic. Maîtres also knew that ordinary party members loved hearing about the constitution, and that back benchers in marginal seats loved having energised rank-and-file party members to campaign for them. It was all positioning, and Conomos had seen through it.

"I deeply believe in the need for a constitution." Maîtres said. He wasn't sure if he was lying anymore, it had been so long since he could tell the difference. "But that aside... we utterly oppose the wrongful execution of the King of Iansisle."

"Of course we oppose it." Conomos nodded. "And we'll have to make sure that Iansisle knows that we will take appropriate steps to express our indignation..."

"Our outrage!" Maîtres interjected.

"Quite... our outrage... what do you think of trade sanctions?" Conomos speculated.

"I think they'd be an over-reaction." Maîtres frowned.

"I think I'm hearing more positioning, but now you're pitching to the wrong side." Conomos chuckled. "I have the free traders in the caucus, you know I do. The protectionists mostly line up with you, and you'll just alienate your own supporters with talk like that."

"Well... surely there's an intermediary step!" Maîtres replied angrily.

"You're the Foreign Minister." Conomos pointed out.

"Chancellor, I swear..." Maîtres grumbled. "Look, what about punitive tariffs instead of outright sanctions?"

Conomos pretended to think about it, while inwardly he smiled. He was carefully moving Maîtres into a trap. The free traders didn't align solidly behind Conomos at all, they had in the previous challenge, but this time their votes were becoming more elusive. Conomos hoped to manoeuvre Maîtres into taking an interventionist stance in the Cabinet on the issue, and let him lead the charge, to help the free traders make up their minds.

"Hmm..." Conomos said, rubbing his chin. He took the pipe out of his mouth and pointed it at Maîtres. "Yes, that's it, punitive tariffs. I'll put it to the Cabinet at the meeting this afternoon."

"I'll put it to the Cabinet. It was my idea." Maîtres protested.

"You came up with it in my office, who's to know?" Conomos frowned.

"So we're both going to claim it? Think that'll impress the party room? Both leadership contenders bickering over who gets the credit?" Maîtres raged, rising to his feet.

"Let's get one thing straight. There aren't two leadership contenders in this room, Minister." Conomos snarled, rising to his feet, playing his part in the theatre of his own design perfectly. "There's one leader, and one malcontent challenger. You know which one is which."

"For now, for now there's one leader, Chancellor, but not for long. I'm taking credit for this, it's my idea, I'm moving it at Cabinet, and if you try, then so help me, I will make the rest of that meeting a living hell, I'll call for votes on every motion, and you know that you'll lose at least one policy vote, at least one!" Maîtres threatened. "And then the caucus will see that without my support, you can't make this Government work, because I'm the glue, Chancellor, I'm the glue which holds this whole God damned show together. If you ever try to steal my thunder, I swear, I will make you look like the most incompetent man to ever sit in this office!"

"Even if it paralysed the Government? You'd paralyse the Government if I claimed this one thing as mine?" Conomos sneered. "You know, you'll never cut it if you get this job. Never. You can move the tariff to Cabinet, but remember your little outburst today, Louis. That outburst and that attitude is why I'm still around, because you'd never be able to handle this job. It'd eat you alive..."

"We'll see what the Cabinet thinks about that. And the party room." Maîtres replied briskly, before storming out of the office.

Conomos lit his pipe again and chuckled quietly, sitting back down on the couch and turning on the brand new polished wood radio next to the lounge suite. He tuned it into some music and reclined back into the leather.

"Indeed we will." he answered, although nobody was around to hear it. "Indeed we will."

Judas sighed, resting his head against the large window that formed one wall of his office. His tired grey eyes looked out across the marble buildings of the Holy Precinct, shining in the pale sunlight of an Isamite spring. Below him moved the servants of the Hierarchy, clearing snow from the paths between the white palaces of the Church.

Here and there moved white-robed members of the Hierarchy, well wrapped against the cold in heavy fur-lined garments, their breath misting in the cold air as they moved about their tasks. Standing out starkly against the white of marble, snow, and Hierarchy robes of office were the black-uniformed Nazareth, automatic rifles held to attention as they watched for any threat in the heart of the Imperial Faith Union.

Archbishop Judas Tay let his eyes rise to the building that dominated the Holy City, the Great Cathedral of the Imperial Faith, the twin-cross of Isam shining darkly against the pale belltower. The Archbishop of Foreign Affairs turned from the window and walked back to his desk, piled high with documents as always. He went back to work, organising, noting, sometimes writing messages to allied, neutral or controlled states.

Eventually he came to the latest piece of news from Iansisle and flipped open the folder, eyes running down the notes jotted in margins and useful pieces of information, along with the decision that the Hierarchy had made on the subject. Regicide. An ugly business, and one counter to the interests of the Church - even in nations with which the Imperial Faith Union was not involved.

The archbishop began composing a message.


To the government and people of the Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle,

We, the Hierarchy of the Imperial Faith Union, greet you in the name of the Lord Our God, before whom mankind is a favoured but flawed child.

The recent revolution within your nation has been noted with some alarm by the diverse people of the Union, both within the Isam Nation and the subject states bound to the Church. The people of the Imperial Faith Union have expressed their concern alongside the word of the Christ Imperator through his medium in the Holy Father.

Whilst we of the Hierarchy assure you that your move toward greater civil freedoms has been met with nothing but applause by the Churches Civil and Select as the Church is always pleased to see the children of God prosper, however it is a matter of gravest concern to the Hierarchy - particularly to the Churches Select and Militant - that your nation intends to imminently execute its monarch.

Such matters are aligned directly against the will of Our Father due to the time-honoured traditions of Divine Right and the placement of the Blood Royal in stewardship of nations by the Lord Our God in ages past, a tradition that has ensured that each nation may have access to the will of God, no matter how flawed the vessel.

The Church of the Imperial Faith cannot sit back and attend to the matters of the Union whilst such actions are taking place contrary to the will of the Lord and so would require the considerations of the Church in an attempt to rectify the situation to the satisfaction of the Lord Our God.

So it is that we urge you to reconsider your actions, and remove the penalty of death from this child of God - for without a member of the Blood Royal, appointed by God, your nation is truly lost to Heaven, its people doomed to an eternity of torment by the Great Enemy and the Church considers it our most grevious duty to rectify such matters by any means deemed necessary by the Hierarchy and the Christ Imperator.

Penned in sorrow and hope,
Signed and sealed by the authority of the Lord Our God,
Judas Tay
Archbishop for Foreign Affairs,
Tol Isam,
Imperial Faith Union

The archbishop leant back to stretch briefly. The letter did not contain as much threat as he might have liked, but the Hierarchy's decision was made, and besides, he had a great deal more to do today.

He dropped the letter into his "Out" tray, and slid the next folder toward him.

((ooc: For Lark))

The door to James' cell creaked open and a young face, topped with beret and green-and-red cockade, let itself into the room.

"It's time," the soldier said simply.

When confined underground without a clock, time tends to pass faster. James was sure it could not be more than two or three o'clock in the morning. He stumbled once and was caught by Weathers going up the stairs, as much from fatigue as from his lame leg, before emerging into the grey Ianapalis morning.

Jameston Place was practically swarming with people, most of them in the khaki and red of the Republic's army, but also there were Assemblymen in brown suits and a man in the deep blue of the Navy. James recognized the man at once -- Admiral Philip Clayburgh, the former Marquess of Westergate. The one reactionary royalist whose fame was so great that not even the Director of War could touch him.

"Your Majesty," said Clayburgh, removing his peaked cap and bowing deeply. "I trust they have been treating you well?" His eyes barely registered Weathers as they ran from James' leg up to his double chin.

Suddenly, James was aware, in contrast to the slim, athletic Clayburgh, just how much he had let himself go over the past six months.

"Well enough," he replied. Then James registered a noise which he had been hearing since he walked out of the Jameston cellblock: like an engine warming up, it had been steadily increasing in volume for two minutes. All up and down Gallaga Street, and then for all the blocks he could see of Revolution Street, soldiers strained to hold barricades against a literal sea of humanity: all Ianapalis, it seemed, had turned out to watch the regicide.

His former subjects were not cheering, as they had been all those years ago when he announced the peace with Germany, but rather calling for his head. In shock, James allowed himself and Weathers to be levered into a ‘39 Westerton Jackrabbit with heavily tinted windows and sped off down their path. A few vegetables penetrated the police cordon and smashed on the car or the road around it.

Gull Flag Square -- or Unity, as it was when I was a boy, thought James -- was, if possible, even more packed than the streets leading to it. But for a path from St Patrick’s to the gallows, every square foot was teeming with humanity, packed in shoulder to shoulder in the light drizzle. Tri’s column had been toppled and school boys perched atop it to watch the spectacle. Queen Jessica’s statue had been beheaded and splashed with revolutionary slogans in a most unroyal red. And every was the Gull Flag: suspended from the modern skyscrapers’ windows, in the hands of men and women and children, even draped across the gallows.

As James watched, the executioner pulled his lever to test it; the trapdoor swung open. Had his neck been in there, James knew, he would have dropped some small distance and, arrested by the noose, either had his neck snapped or -- if he were unlucky -- had his larynx crushed and been left to suffocate at rope’s end.

The Jackrabbit stopped midway between St Patrick’s and Gull Flag Square; to James’ surprise, it was the left door -- the one facing the Cathedral -- that opened. Followed by the jeers of his former subjects, he and Weathers were hustled up through the doors and into the relative quiet of the Cathedral.

“Last confession, Your Majesty,” said Clayburgh. “The very least I could manage.”

At the front of the cathedral, James recognized a short, balding man in a business suit, lounging among other similarly-clad men. His eyes narrowed at Clayburgh.

“I have nothing for which to repent,” he said flatly.

------

((For Panto and Isam: I haven’t forgotten you, but neither have I forgotten my class in seven hours =). I’ll have something for the two of you up tomorrow afternoon!))

((So close! yet so far!! ))

A young man in clerical robes walked up to Weathers and James, flanked by two monks.

"Your Majesty. Mr. Weathers," the priest said. "I am here for your final confession. Is there anything you wish to repent, your Majesty? Statements for a war? Maybe a visit to Dun Adien by a group of vampires many years ago? Please come this way, either of you."

( ;) )

Most Urgent

To: Thomas de Fenne, Acting Director of Foreign Affairs, Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle
From: The Hon. Louis Maîtres M.P., Minister for Foreign Affairs, Pantocratorian Empire

Monsieur de Fenne,

I write to you to once again convey the outrage of the people of Pantocratoria, the Imperial Government, and His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty at the impending execution of King James of Iansisle, and to ask you one final time to grant His Royal Majesty clemency.

I must warn you that if His Majesty is indeed executed, Pantocratoria will immediately place punitive tariffs on the import of all Iansislean goods, and will call on the rest of the world to do the same. The exact level of the tariff has not yet been determined, but it will be no less than eighty percent of the final sale value, calculated post-taxation and after the impost of all usual applicable tariffs.

We once again offer Pantocratoria as a place of exile for His Royal Majesty. If your government exiles King James to Pantocratoria, we are prepared to guarantee that he will never be permitted to leave Pantocratorian territory, and that we will take absolutely no action in futherance of any ambitions he may harbour to regain control over what is now the Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle, which we would officially recognise, along with recognising your government as the legitimate Iansislean Government.

I call on you one last time to show mercy, and in doing so, guarantee the future economic prosperity and political stability of the Gull Flag Republic, as well as demonstrate to the world that Iansisle has a new, reasonable and responsible government.

Sincerely,

Louis Maîtres
The Hon. Louis Maîtres M.P.
Minister for Foreign Affairs

((Panto))

The night before...

Ben Rinehart took a quick head count of the men assembled before his mahogany desk. There was Peter Appleton, the tall, thin Director of Gallagan Affairs. Contrasted next to him was Ernie Bankfield, one of the few men in the government who had held an important post during the ancien régime, the Director of Research and Development; he looked much older than that day, fifty years ago, when he had made Irvin Graye the first Iansislean to take a powered flight. Frank Lynch, the Director of Finances, was taking a pinch of snuff as Rinehart's eyes fell across him; sadly, that was one of the man's less disgusting habits. Lastly, there was Ed Lipse, the Director of Trade: the rotund, nervous-looking man who had called this meeting.

Detractors of Bradsworth derisively called these men the 'Inner Circle'. They were those men most loyal to his vision of the Revolution and the notion of a moderate republic. There were other important Directors who were not in attendance because of their extremism -- Madders, the Director of War, and de Fenne, the Director of Foreign Affairs, were high on that list -- and some whose Directories -- like Edwards of Public Sanitation or Jones of Education -- were not of crucial importance to the Republic. And there was Underhill, the Director of Justice, who had resigned along with Bradsworth.

This was in fact their first meeting since Bradsworth's departure had thrown the government into disarray. Rinehart envied the ease with which his predecessor had handled the group: already, Lynch and Lipse were engaging each other in a whispered conversation near a large chart which Lipse had brought.

“Gentlemen,” said Rinehart. Silence gradually fell over the room; the Premier felt like nothing so much as a third grade teacher. “Director Lipse? I believe you had a presentation to make?”

“Thank you, sir, I did. Gentlemen,” he said, now addressing the full group. “By this time next year, Iansisle will be in the midst of a famine.” He said these words obviously to provoke a violent reaction from the assembled men. However, nonplussed, they all stared back at him.

“Yes,” continued Lipse after a moment’s pause. “Well, as you know, Iansisle is almost completely dependent on the importation of foodstuffs -- mostly grains -- as the majority of the Shield is given over to grazing or industry. Nearly all food has been rationed for the last two years, because of the war. However --” Lipse pulled off the first layer of the chart he had brought and indicated vaguely one of seven lines “-- as you can see, we’re starting to lose our suppliers. The Iansislean general is a joke currency,” he pulled off another sheet. “Whereas it was just two years ago four generals to the Walmingtonian pound, it’s now over thirty-seven. Iansisle’s purchasing power on the international market has never been lower.”

He drew back another sheet on the easel. “What’s worse, the average price of bread on the Shield has increased from a teneral to over a general and a half over the past year, whereas the average weekly wage has only increased from ten generals to twenty-nine in the same period. The gap will only get smaller over the next year. And, as you can see here...”

Rinehart held up a hand to stop Lipse. “Enough. We can see the problem: what’s to be done about it? Frank?”

Lynch considered for a while before answering. Rinehart started to sweat a bit as he peered into the other man’s eyes. At last:

“Well, there’s not much the government can do to help. We’re over a billion generals in debt already and still running a deficit: I don’t think there’s a Shieldian who doesn’t own at least one war bond. And, like Ed said, bread’s going up faster than the wages. We can’t raise taxes too much more without putting a significant strain on the populace. There simply isn’t enough money to invest in foreign food.”

“And domestic?” asked Rinehart.

“We’re still replanting in Gadsan,” offered Lipse. “But I don’t know how much short-term relief we can expect from that. There’s also the fisheries of Tharia, but I don’t see as we’ll be too popular in what are technically their home waters.”

“All I’m hearing is that Iansisleans will be starving in six months, and there isn’t a damn thing to be done about it,” growled Rinehart, shooting accusatory looks all across the room. Lynch and Lipse glanced away, but Peter Appleton had an idea.

“How about Gallagan rice?” he said. “It’s nothing most folks know, of course, but the infrastructure is already in place: it’s cheap to produce, cheap to ship, and could fill in the gap while the reconstruction of Gadsan swings into full motion.”

“Damned Galler food?” snorted Lipse. “Not truly fit for a Shieldian.”

“If you’ve a better idea, I’d love to hear it,” replied Appleton.

“How long would it take you to set all this up, Peter?” asked Rinehart.

“Perhaps a month; perhaps more. Three at least to get everything working smoothly.”

“Get started on it now. If we’re to subside on rice, I want people used to it while there are still alternatives.” Rinehart glanced about the room. “Well, anyone else?”

“Yes,” said Lipse, flipping three or four sheets deep into his charts. “Erm, perhaps you’ve been able to review the latest letter from Pantocratoria?”

“The one trying to set off a trade war? Yes, I’ve seen it. I wasn’t aware our trade with Pantocratoria was that great.”

“It isn’t, sir, not in quantity at least. But there are a few key sectors in which - yes.” Lipse, having lost his train of thought, studied the chart for a few moments. “Ah, yes, for instance, in the automotive industry. You’ll notice,” he said, pointing to one poorly-labeled line, “that, while the Westerton Motor-Car Company still accounts for the majority of automobiles in Iansisle, due mostly to the pre-Revolution success of their Jackrabbit sedans, they have in fact produced the smallest number of new automobiles of the five companies I have surveyed for the period from the II to V.

“Ahem. You’ll also note --” here he pointed to a thinner poorly-labeled line “-- that the largest amount has, in fact, been produced by Stockley Motors and imported from Walmington on Sea. We now estimate that one of every five cars in Iansisle is a Stockley. Their Walmy competitors at Wychwood Automation fall in third, a fair pace behind Dunheath-Little of Loweglen.”

“And in fourth?”

“Peacock Motors of Pantocratoria, accounting for some eight and a half per cent of new automotive purchases over the past three and a half years. The remainder is, of course, made up of various smaller companies, most of them Iansislean: Neagle, Fitzpatrick-Peters, Republican Motors, Flynt, Bonnet-Philip, F--”

“Yes, thank you. Now, what do we export to Pantocratoria that would make such tariffs harmful?”

“Well, sir,” said Lipse, “I had prepared...”

“Skip it. What do we export?”

“Well, sir, nothing quite as big as cars,” said Lipse. “Some small consumer products: ball-point pens, clocks, that sort of thing. However, the majority of our exports are colonial products: natural rubber, tropical hardwoods, sugar, ivory, and various spices.

“Most of those are luxury goods,” said Rinehart. “They’re in a much better position to refuse to buy them than we are to refuse to sell them.” He sat and considered for a moment. “Ed, how badly would tariffs of ours affect their automotive industry?”

“Hard to say,” said Lipse. “Peacock Motors is bigger than even Westerton ever was. Iansisle is a fringe market for them, but it is one in which they have been making gains. I doubt it’s enough to get Peacock to exert serious pressure on the government.”

“We have two options to reply to this,” Rinehart said. “One: we apologize profusely and beg them not to carry through on this threat. Two: we retaliate and escalate this into a full-scale trade war; one in which we would be at a serious disadvantage.”

“We’d look pretty damn foolish to apologize in advance for killing Callahan, only to go ahead and do it,” said Lynch, taking another pinch of snuff. “I don’t suppose this exile of theirs is a practical option?”

“We cannot subvert the referendum,” said Rinehart, shaking his head.

“Then we’d better go ahead and escalate this thing,” said Lynch. “Doesn’t matter what we say: if Callahan dies, they’re going to impose those tariffs. We might as well strike back while we still can. Make them think twice.”

“Who’s going to tell de Fenne?” asked Appleton.

“I will,” said Rinehart. “We’ll have that out tonight. If there’s nothing further, gentlemen, I have a lot of work to do.”

---

Mister Maîtres,

It is with the greatest concern that we received your latest correspondence. It is ironic that you would express a wish for the future stability and prosperity of Iansisle and yet seek to undermine what progress has been made in that direction in the same letter. It would appear that Pantocratoria, which is perhaps more reactionary than her self-proclaimed Emperor would care to admit, will go to any lengths to destabilize the government of the Iansislean Republic.

In a process straight out of the Constitution, the voters of the Republic have turned down a motion forwarded in the National Assembly to grant clemency to James Callahan, of late the man who would have himself be king of a free people. They reaffirmed the belief in the rule of law, which can at times seem uncompromising, and emphatically stated that no man, regardless of what titles he claims, is above that same law.

Therefore, these punitive tariffs can only be seen as a direct attack on Iansislean democracy and will be replied to as such. Should Pantocratoria impose the slightest tariff on Iansislean imports, the Gull Flag Republic will reply in kind, down to the last percentage. For every appeal to a foreign power for support in your crusade against liberty, so too shall Iansisle appeal to the world’s democratic nations. Let it be also known that every punitive tariff imposed on Iansislean goods by powers corrupted by Pantocratoria’s autocratic influence will be matched, percentage point for percentage point, by the Republic.

James Callahan will tomorrow die on the gallows in Gull Flag Square, a traitor to those over whom he claims to reign.

Thomas de Fenne, Acting Director of Foreign Affairs
At #3 Jameston Place
40 Cupodìnolo V*

((*Jun 19 1957))

((PS: If you find my description (read: pulling out of my backside) of Panto-Shieldian trade to contain some sort of glaring inaccuracy, shoot me a TG or post here and I’ll see what I can do to rectify it.))

---

((Isam))

“What do you make of it?” asked Lawrence Madders, holding the letter from the Imperial Faith Union of Isam in his hand.

“They’re a bunch of religious nutters -- always have been,” grunted Thomas de Fenne. “Just getting around in their capital requires ‘citizen passes’ and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover that there’s been an inquisition or two to purge the land of religious dissenters.”

“How were you planning to reply?”

“They’re basically children, Larry. I’m going to reply to them as I would a wayward child: gently, but reaffirming our conviction that the execution of the Northman tyrant is the correct course of action, and that we won’t be intimidated out of it by spiritual mumbo-jumbo.”

Archbishop Tay,

The Gull Flag Republic has the utmost respect for your people and your ways. However, the Republic is a devoutly secular state; it believes first and foremost in the wisdom and the power of the People United to govern themselves. We too have books of law: however, ours declare that every man is equal under them and that high treason in times of war should be punished by death.

The man to whom you refer, James Callahan, lately raised and led an army against the government of the Republic during the most desperate hour of our war against the Effitians. Although the Assembly initially sought clemency for Callahan by submitting his sentencing to a national referendum, the People declared with one voice that he was to hang for such heinous crimes. There is no further system of appeals; there can be no arbiter more final than the will of the People.

Finally, the Republic thanks you for the warning about the loss of our country to God. However, in Iansisle, only the will of the People United and in Jameston Assembled constitutes divine authority, and it will continue to bless the green hills of the Shield so long as it is respected by its representatives.

God save the Republic,

Thomas de Fenne, Acting Director of Foreign Affairs
At #3 Jameston Place
39 Cupodìnolo V*

“Isn’t that last paragraph a touch sarcastic?” asked Madders, reviewing the draft.

“They’ll never notice,” said de Fenne, placing the letter in the Isamite ‘outbox’ of the Foreign Office.

((*Jun 18 1957))

((PS -- I’ve always loved the term “Godless Republic” =D))

---

((Lark))

James glanced up to where Madders and his supporters stood. He didn’t know how the priest knew about events on Ian’s Island years past, but he’d be damned -- figuratively, if perhaps not literally -- if he’d give those republicans the pleasure of seeing him beg forgiveness, even from the almighty.

“I have nothing for which to repent,” he said again, more loudly this time.

“Oh, your Majesty, please reconsider,” said Clayburgh, a note of panic sneaking into his voice.

“No,” said James.

“Please, Father,” said Weathers, a touch more quietly, “I would like to confess.”

((PS: If you find my description (read: pulling out of my backside) of Panto-Shieldian trade to contain some sort of glaring inaccuracy, shoot me a TG or post here and I’ll see what I can do to rectify it.))

OOC: No, it seems great to me.

IC:

"But they'll retaliate, Jean, it'll be a disaster for the economy. Did you know that Iansisle is one of Peacock Motors' fastest growing export markets?" Pierre Conomos argued to one of the most prominent free traders in the PNDP parliamentary caucus, Jean Zanetos. "Peacock Motors being Pantocratoria's fastest growing company, mind, our fastest growing! It's driving employment and exporting all over the world!"

"Chancellor, sometimes there are more important issues..." started Zanetos. "You know how popular the monarchy is, and you know that the one area the United Christian Front always out-polls us on is the monarchy... how closely they'd work with the Emperor in government, whether they can be trusted to respect the Emperor's traditional role, and so on. How do we look, Chancellor, if we back down from our threatened tariffs, how do we look if our response to a regicide is toothless?"

Conomos frowned, finished his brandy, and lit a fresh cigar. He had badly misjudged what the reaction would be from the free traders to the initiative he had tricked Maîtres into taking. His only direct reply was a grunt.

"Chancellor, don't you support punitive tariffs against Iansisle?" Zanetos asked, looking confused. "You told us in the party room that you supported Maîtres' initiative on tariffs, which I thought was downright decent of you, I might add. But now you're telling me behind closed doors, in your office here, that you think the plan is disastrous and we shouldn't go through with it?"

"Well..." Conomos started. "It just seems like it will have no impact on what the Iansisleans do, Jean, and... well, I think reducing unemployment is a bigger concern than empty gestures."

"Well, Chancellor..." Zanetos said, finishing his drink before rising to his feet. "If you don't mind, I think that once in a while, when the matter's important enough, an empty gesture is anything but. It's a declaration of belief, of principle."

"You're going to vote for Maîtres..." Conomos scowled, rising to his feet. "I can't believe it, the little toad never had a principle in his life, and you're going to vote for him for an empty gesture."

"Chancellor, with respect, I will vote, as I always do, in what I believe to be the best interests of the country, and the party." Zanetos said. "With your leave, Chancellor, I have a policy committee meeting."

"Of course..." Conomos muttered, and turned away from Zanetos as he left the office.

James glanced up to where Madders and his supporters stood. He didn’t know how the priest knew about events on Ian’s Island years past, but he’d be damned -- figuratively, if perhaps not literally -- if he’d give those republicans the pleasure of seeing him beg forgiveness, even from the almighty.

“I have nothing for which to repent,” he said again, more loudly this time.

“Oh, your Majesty, please reconsider,” said Clayburgh, a note of panic sneaking into his voice.

“No,” said James.

“Please, Father,” said Weathers, a touch more quietly, “I would like to confess.”

The priest sighed at James' response.

This isn't good. There are too many witnesses to start blasting and get him out of here. Jeff's going to kill me. Maybe if we can fly in low from the estate...

As Weathers approached and spoke, the priest put an arm around his shoulder.

"Of course my son," he said. The priest looked quickly at the monks following him as he led Weathers and the guards following him into the cathedral. "Follow me."

((Lark))

James hadn't thought that Weathers would betray him like this. He stood watching as the priest led off the one last person in Iansisle upon whose loyalty he had thought he could count. One of Madders' entourage was scribbling furiously on a pad of paper: doubtlessly a reporter with the Star-Tribune eager to write up the last failure of the monarchy.

Clayburgh caught the priest's eye for just a second after Weathers declaration: both of them were now traitors to the Republic. Then Weathers, just a pair of guards following him, allowed himself to be led away by the priest.

((Lark))

James hadn't thought that Weathers would betray him like this. He stood watching as the priest led off the one last person in Iansisle upon whose loyalty he had thought he could count. One of Madders' entourage was scribbling furiously on a pad of paper: doubtlessly a reporter with the Star-Tribune eager to write up the last failure of the monarchy.

Clayburgh caught the priest's eye for just a second after Weathers declaration: both of them were now traitors to the Republic. Then Weathers, just a pair of guards following him, allowed himself to be led away by the priest.

The Priest looked back at James and shook his head sadly at the man. Little did he know how close he'd been to escaping his sentence. The priest quickly made the sign of the cross at James.

"May God have mercy on your soul. For these men shall have none." Looks like death is really the only cure for idiocy...

The Priest led the men into the Cathedral, and started down one of the hallways. He raised one hand to shield his face from Weathers'. The monks walked behind the group, hands folded in their robes as they meditated.

"You may begin your confession if you wish."

The Priest looked back at James and shook his head sadly at the man. Little did he know how close he'd been to escaping his sentence. The priest quickly made the sign of the cross at James.

"May God have mercy on your soul. For these men shall have none." Looks like death is really the only cure for idiocy...

The Priest led the men into the Cathedral, and started down one of the hallways. He raised one hand to shield his face from Weathers'. The monks walked behind the group, hands folded in their robes as they meditated.

"You may begin your confession if you wish."

James nodded slightly at the priest, then glanced sideways at his guards. They seemed to understand and turned James. Madders, perhaps disappointed at the failure of the game, walked quickly to catch up with James and his escort.

"Your Majesty! Please!" said Clayburgh.

"I have made up my mind," said James.

"But your Majesty!"

"Citizen Clayburgh doth protest too much, methinks," said Madders quietly as he pulled alongside the former Marquess. "I also think you'd be well-advised to make yourself back to Mansmouth tonight. Your presence in Ianapalis is no longer requested nor required, Admiral."

As they walked out into Gull Flag Square, a squadron of Gelderlanders -- Iansisle's first production trans-sonic interceptors -- rocketed overhead. Unlike nearly all of Iansisle's previous aeroflyers, the Gelderlander was not designed by Graye Aeroflyers of Lakeriverwood, but rather by the young Brown-Oldroyd Aeronautics of Vesshampton. Graye had suffered badly in the Effitian war: many of its engineers had either taken up arms to fight or else been slaughtered in one of the two sieges of Lakeriverwood. With a resounding crack that delighted the crowd below, the Gelderlanders broke through the sonic barrier and vanished to the east of the city.

Behind them, Weathers was walking with his head down, not really paying attention to where he was heading.

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned. I -- I have made untoward advances to the wife of a friend."

((blah. Had this typed up last night, but I kept getting database errors =(.))

((No worries man. check you TGs))

((checked / replied))

Behind them, Weathers was walking with his head down, not really paying attention to where he was heading.

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned. I -- I have made untoward advances to the wife of a friend."

((Worked out with I-Man. TG me if I did anything wrong and I can change it.))

The Priest nods as he opens a door leading into a small windowless room in the back of the Cathedral. The group of men saw another priest sitting quietly and two hooded monks chanting quietly as they walked in.

"I understand my son," the Priest said to Weathers as the two of them walked in, followed by the two guards and two monks. "God is very forgiving of those who accept their sins and ask for his forgiveness."

The two monks stood up to let the Priest and Weathers sit down.

"And may God forgive us for the sins we are about to commit this day," the Priest continued.

One of the monks at the front cleared his throat softly, the group looked at the man while the Priest started to move his hand.

"In the name of the Father..."

The two guards looked back at the Priest.

Thank God this is almost over... One of them thought.

"And of the Son."

The two monks at the back of the group unfold their hands from their robes and wave them towards the back of the heads of the two guards.

"And of the Holy Spirit"

A muffled sound came from the hands of the monks, the two handguns quieted by silencers and covered by the robe's sleeves. The guards jerked before collapsing as the bullets ripped through their brain stems.

"Forever and ever. Amen."

Sweyn Castle, Citadel Excalbia, 1957

Emperor Joshua II leaned heavily into his chair and crossed his legs. He straightened the vest under his suit coat, then picked up his tea and held in cupped in his hands. He furrowed his brow and squinted at the wireless set on the antique table beside his chair. Arrayed around the radio, three other faces mirrored the Emperor’s disquiet.

The voice of the announcer breathlessly described the events transpiring far away in Ianapalis. Of course, news readers on the television were reading the same account as it came across the wires, but the Emperor had always preferred the radio. And it was not as if the television had images to broadcast; even after they arrived from Ianapalis the Emperor had issued a rare edict forbidding their broadcast. Just because the barbarians were publicly murdering their king, he had said when he issued the edict, there was no reason to inflict their violence on the Excalbian people.

Across from Joshua II, on the other side of the rather old fashioned radio set, sat an older gentleman perched on the edge of his of chair. Lord Rolland Skuja, the Imperial Chamberlain, let his eyes flick from the wireless to the Emperor to the nervous looking gentleman seated to the Emperor’s right.

Baron Ainars Skrastins, the new Imperial Chancellor, was far younger than Skuja and younger still than the Emperor. His round face was pale and his skin almost seemed to glisten with a greasy film. The recent collapse of the Progressive Conservative coalition had unexpectedly presented Skrastins’ Excalbia Tradition Party the opportunity to form a new government only a few weeks ago. And the young baron still had the bad habit of shifting nervously in the Emperor’s presence.

“I cannot believe those bloody revolutionaries are going through with this insanity,” the Emperor said with a frown. “Even after the international community has appealed for clemency.” The Emperor shook his head. “What do they think they are accomplishing by this? They have had their revolution. Why further taint it by spilling noble blood?”

Lord Rolland returned the Emperor’s frown and nodded gravely, turning to glance at a middle-aged man wearing a black suit with a clerical collar.

Rev. Quentin Faulkner, the Presiding Bishop of the Church of Excalbia frowned and turned towards the Emperor. “Perhaps, your Majesty, we could have done more…”

The Emperor gave the bishop a sympathetic look. “I wish we could have done more, your Eminence. We made diplomatic protests and recalled our Minister from Ianapalis. And I wager the Gull Flag Republic’s representative here is fairly tired of being summoned for lectures by the Minister of State. We have publicly offered asylum to any refugees who can escape the revolutionaries in Iansisle…” The Emperor let out a sigh. “What else could we have done? Threaten an embargo and a boycott like the Pantocratorians?”

“Well, your Majesty,” Baron Ainars began nervously.

“No, no, no,” the Emperor said, shaking his head wearily. “We already have high duties on Iansislean goods and their exports to us are not nearly significant enough for a boycott to affect their economy. However, a boycott on their part would deprive us of a small but growing market for some of our electronics and precision instruments.” The Emperor drew in a breath. “No, boycotts and embargoes rarely have any positive effect and generally serve only as political theatre…”

Lord Rolland’s head turned at last phrase. He regarded the Chancellor through narrowed eyes. “Of course, your Excellency, if you are worried that your party is still seen as tainted by the perception of disloyalty to the Sword, such fruitless political theatre might be fairly attractive.”

“Your Excellency! Your Majesty!” Baron Ainars turned pleadingly to the Emperor, feigning shock. “The ETP has never been disloyal…”

“I did not say it had been, your Excellency,” the Chamberlain said evenly, “only that some have long made that accusation. The price, I suppose, for calling for a devolution of power to the baronies.”

Joshua II sat his cup on the table and motioned sharply to Lord Rolland. “I think that is enough.” Then, turning to the Chancellor, he asked, “Have we yet had anyone accept our offer of asylum, Baron Ainars?”

((Just writing in to let y'all know I haven't abandoned you. This weekend has been insanely busy, but I *think* I'm heading for a relative calm this week. My next post should feature the actual execution itself! (finally)))

Though the fly over was a big success, nonetheless the crowd gathered in Gull Flag Square was starting to behave dangerously. Those at the front were crushed up against the khaki-clad line of soldiers, impatiently waiting for James to reemerge. The sky was still a low grey, threatening to break out into a drizzle at any moment.

“Yes, I can see him now. Citizen James Callahan has just emerged from St Patrick’s. The rest of the crowd has spotted him now -- they’re raising a great noise now. I can hear hisses mixed in with unprintable vulgarities. Callahan is being hauled to the top of the gallows now; he’s stumbled there, and almost had to be hauled up by the soldiers.”

The IanCorp newsman paused for a second to let the crowd’s jeers fill his microphone. The noise reached a crescendo where it seemed that all of Gull Flag Square would be shaken apart by the sound. The flimsy wooden gallows seemed to shake with the lust of ten thousand voices. Then, as the Chief Justice of the Peace of Ianapalis claimed the platform and held up his hands, the crowd slowly fell quiet.

“Here stands before you a man condemned,” the Justice shouted into his microphone, his voice booming off the skyscrapers which surrounded Gull Flag Square on three sides. “Tried in a full session of the National Assembly and found irredeemably guilty of the most heinous crimes against the people -- against yourselves! Sentenced by the people united to suffer death, a traitor’s just deserts!”

The cry raised by the crowd this time was anticipatory in its desire for blood. They wanted to see James drop; they wanted to hear the snap as his neck parted and life fled from his body.

“Have you any last words, citizen? Will you apologize to the people, unto whom you have brought nothing save misery, famine and death?”

The microphone was suddenly shoved to James’ lips.

“By the Grace of God,” he said, “I am James III, High King of the Empire of the Shield, King of Shadoran, Emperor of Gallaga, Protector of the Commonwealth, Archduke of Sentry Island and Heir to the Empire, Grand Master of the Most Holy and Ancient Order of the Ruby--”

The Chief Justice ripped the microphone away from James. “A skunk ever unrepentant!”

A definite chant could now be heard from the crowd.

“Carry out sentence! Carry out sentence! Carry out sentence!”

The Chief Justice nodded to the executioner, who pulled the lever. The trapdoor beneath James’ feet gave way and he fell through it.

The result was perhaps not what anyone expected. The fifty or so pounds which James had gained in prison had not been calculated properly, with the result that the drop was farther than it needed to be. Reaching the end of the rope, the noose gave a violent jerk which not only snapped James’ neck but also cut open the skin all along his neck, letting dark red blood flow out around the noose and all down the front of his white shirt. This sight only made those in the front lines of the crowd scream with even greater delight.

The executioner cut James’ body down and the former king was proclaimed dead by the court’s doctor.

“So will be the fate of all those who commit treason,” called the Justice, still standing atop the gallows. “Long live the Republic! Long live the People!” The crowd answered his cheers and, across the Square on the steps of St Patrick’s, Lawrence Madders smiled. The ancien régime was finally dead.

-----

To say that Weathers was taken by surprise was an understatement. His first impulse was to cry out for help, as was natural after seeing two men gunned down. Fortunately, however, he remembered that at least here his death would be private and instead stared at the ‘priest’ with wide, shocked eyes.

-----

((Ex, I’m sending you a telegram re: émigrés. Hopefully we can work something out =).))

Sweyn Castle, Citadel Excalbia, 1957

Emperor Joshua II turned off the wireless set with an angry flick of his wrist. “Barbarians!” The Emperor banged his cup down on table, spilling tea into the saucer. “No better than a bloodthirsty mob. Animals!”

Rev. Faulkner lowered his head and moved his lips in silent prayer. Lord Rolland and Baron Ainars bowed their heads in respectful silence.

The Emperor shifted in his chair, then grabbed the arms and sat straight and rigid. “Baron Ainars.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the round faced Chancellor said, mopping sweat from his brow.

“Expel the Iansislean representative.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“And what ships do we have in the area?”

“Holy Empire and her squadron are in that region, your Majesty.”

“Order them to move towards Iansisle. I do want them to remain in international waters, but I do want them close enough to be presence in the mind of that revolutionary rabble.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The Emperor turned and looked his Chancellor square in the face. “And let me be clear, Baron Ainars. I do not want the Senate to send me a bill of embargo or boycott; I do not want to be in the position of having to withhold my ascent from such a measure. However, if your backbenchers wish to hold a debate on the subject of an embargo – as long as it does not go anywhere – I would not object.”

“I understand, your Majesty,” the Chancellor said nodding.

“Your Majesty,” Rev. Faulkner said haltingly, “forgive me, but isn’t it a little late for such measures? Could they not have been deployed earlier?”

The Emperor frowned. “We made our displeasure known beforehand and the government and I weighed all these other measures, but…” The Emperor turned toward the silent radio. “But I suppose I overestimated the Iansisleans; I never thought they would actually go through with it, much less turn it into a bloody circus.”

(OOC: Ian, I answered your tg; hopefully it'll work.)

To say that Weathers was taken by surprise was an understatement. His first impulse was to cry out for help, as was natural after seeing two men gunned down. Fortunately, however, he remembered that at least here his death would be private and instead stared at the ‘priest’ with wide, shocked eyes.


((Oh my god! You killed Kenny... er.. Jamie! You Bastard! ;) ))

The 'priest' looked back at Weathers.

((and said... "I'm Luke Skywalker. I'm here to rescue you!" ))

"If you'll hurry Mr. Weathers, time is of the essence here," he said as another monk walked in with a bundle of cloth.

"It's happening, they are about to kill Callahan," the monk said, handing Weathers what appeared to be a robe.

"Mr. Weathers, if you'll be so good as to remove what you have on. We just need to see which of these guards' bodies will pass as yours," the priest continued, letting his accent slip into something familiar before turning to one of the other monks.

"If you'll ask His Holiness to please come in.."

Government House, Kingston

"Its been done! James Callahan is dead!"

"When did they do it, Juan?"

"It came on the teletype just now. 'Hanged by the neck until dead' and all that."

"Damn! Too bloody late! Well, call (defense minister) Fernandes and the Prime Minister and get them here. Teresa, I'm going to dictate a letter."

Foreign Minister Francis Mpana takes a seat on the end of his desk while his aides go about summoning the various cabinet ministers. The office secretary sets up her typewriter in the meantime and nods to Mpana, who starts talking.

"An open letter on the subject of James Callahan's execution...We fe

(I'll finish it in the morning).

((playing with the timeline a smidgen))

Lawrence Madders was walking back to his automobile after the execution when Jackson, the Director of Spirituality, caught up with him.

"We have to talk, Larry," he said, out of breath.

"Very well," said Madders, holding the Jackrabbit's door open for him. "Talk."

"It's about Callahan's man -- Wilson?"

"Weathers."

"He's escaped, during his confession."

"I really suspected no less," said Madders, calmly. Jackson looked relieved. He had been sure that Madders would have exploded into a rage at the news.

"In fact," said Madders, "I feel it may even work more to our advantage. Weathers was a small fry at best; hanging him would have only shed extra blood. There were enough royalists captured in that battle to keep the gallows working for a year. His escape has provided us with the chance to hang a major conspirator." He flipped open his watch. "Ten before noon."

Jackson smiled and pretended he knew what Madders was on about. "Twelve before by my watch."

"The afternoon train to Mansmouth leaves at twelve-thirty, does it not?"

Jackson didn't know.

The Jackrabbit, which had been driving slowly through the packed streets of Ianapalis, drew to a halt in front of the Admiralty House, not Jameston Place.

"You'll excuse me," said Madders. "I have a meeting with Admiral Hansfield." He left the car.

---

"Director Madders," said Grand Admiral Hansfield, rising to shake the other man's hand. "A pleasure, as always."

Hansfield's office had none of the elegance of his predecessor, Admiral Kennington. The simple oak paneling was not papered over and the only decorations were photographs of Iansisle's fleet, both in and out of combat. The chairs and desk were simple, with form following function most strictly.

“I’ve just used your telephone,” said Madders. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” said Hansfield pleasantly, knowing in the back of his mind that Madders was trying to get him to ask the purpose of the phone call.

“I’m placing Admiral Clayburgh under arrest,” said Madders after a moment, perhaps disappointed that he had not drawn the question. “My men have arrested him at the train station. He will hang.”

Although the news was a shock, it nonetheless drew a half-smile from Hansfield. The long-standing mutual hatred between Clayburgh and Hansfield was well-known and violent.

“I also had the pleasure of speaking with your Chief of Operations,” said Madders. “He told me you had some important news.”

“Indeed,” said Hansfield, pulling out a thin folder. “One of the NIO’s listening stations picked up a shore-to-ship transmission from Excalbia to their Holy Empire battle squadron and a response shortly after the announcement of Callahan’s death. Lenore Room is working on a translation--”

“But you think that they’ve ordered the -- heh -- ‘Holy Empire’ closer to our shores to God-knows-what nefarious purpose.”

“It seems the logical conclusion, sir, especially considering this memo from the Foreign Office that our special ambassador to Excalbia has been declared persona non grata.”

Although the Iansislean Admiralty eschewed most modern theories of naval warfare, particularly submarine and offensive aerial campaigns, feeling those crutches used by weaker powers, the Naval Intelligence Office never lacked for funding. But then, intelligence gathering was an ancient art form in the Navy. Spies had been used since before the Dénian war, most often as agents in foreign ports to report on the coming and goings of Gallagamen and warships. With the electronic age, the NIO expanded its operations to include listening posts in Iansislean colonies and embassies across the world. “Lenore Room” referred to the office, down in the bowels of the Admiralty House, where the largest, most powerful computer on the Shield collaborated with some of the most brilliant analytical minds produced by Iansisle to crack foreign naval encryption.

Madders regarded the news of the official breaking of relations between Excalbia and Iansisle only momentarily. “And what steps have you taken to respond to this perceived threat, Admiral?”

“I’ve ordered the Tenth Flotilla, which was at sea for exercises, to close in on the coordinates we’ve triangulated for the Excalbian fleet. Once they’ve located them, they’re to shadow using radrangers, no closer than twenty miles. I’ll support the Tenth with two heavy cruiser squadrons on patrol off the Skull.”

Madders rubbed his indefinite chin thoughtfully. “So far so good, Admiral.” He paused for a moment. “What ships of the line have we available?”

“Well, sir, Titan is refitting in Vesshampton and Indomitable is still working up after her repairs -- she’s only a week out of the docks. Republic is on station in Gallaga. That leaves us, in home waters, with Gull Flag, Sanguine, Behemoth, Resolute, Assembly, Colossus, Goliath, and Gargantuan. Eight ships -- two full battle squadrons. Call it 140,000 pounds broadside, give or take.” Admiral Hansfield obviously took great pride in the great force of his battle fleet.

“I’d like to reminds these Excalbian upstarts that the Iansislean Navy is still the foremost power in this part of the world,” said Madders. “Should it come to war -- and I do not currently anticipate that it will -- I do not wish for a single Excalbian vessel to escape.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Hansfield, somewhat warily.

“I’ll have the Battlecruiser Fleet sally in support of your heavy cruiser squadrons. I want the Excalbians to see them.”

The four capital ships of the Battlecruiser Fleet -- Liberty, Unequivocal, Haldsborough, and Irrefutable -- were widely regarded as the ‘cavalry’ of the Navy. Able to steam at thirty knots, displacing more than 36,000 tons each, and packing more than 42,000 pounds of shells broadside, the battlecruisers outsteamed anything more heavily armed than them and outgunned anything faster than them. However, as had been proven at Jutland and the Denmark Strait, battlecruisers could not stand toe-to-toe with proper ships of the line.

“And, should they come close enough,” continued Madders, “I’ll have Coastal Command flying over them with torpedo craft every hour. In the meantime, bring the Home Fleet up to short notice for steam. Wish the commander of the Tenth Flotilla Godspeed for me as well -- the sooner we know where these reactionary buggers are, the sooner we can send them packing for home.”

“The Navy shall carry out the Republic’s will, director.”

“Very good. And, if you’ll excuse me, Admiral, I believe I have an appointment with Admiral Clayburgh.

((ooc: Information on the raw numbers and rough capabilities of the IN can be found here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7435926&postcount=44). Ship names and rough locations can be found here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8513565&postcount=47). You’ll note, however, that the Northern Fleet and Walmington Station have been merged into the Home Fleet. I’ll get around to fixing that sooner or later =). ))

---

((ooc: back to the past =P))

The fact that this wasn’t all an elaborate plan by the Republic to assassinate him before he could reach the gallows suddenly dawned on Weathers. His training as one of the King’s Own Grenadiers kicked in. He allowed himself only a second to regret James’ passing.

He took the robe and slipped it on without question. The priest’s accent, which had suddenly dropped its Eastern Shieldian notes, was very familiar to Weathers, though he could not quite place it.

“Begging your pardon, father,” he said, though he was no longer convinced this priest was a priest, “But I think that smaller bugger would look right good in my clothes.”

---

“’An open letter on the subject of James Callahan's execution...We fe...’ ‘We feel’...damn it, what do they feel?” Thomas de Fenne jabbed his intercom button.

“Ms Goodman, I’m afraid I can’t read this letter,” The latest communiqué from the Robostanis was on his desk, but he could only make out the beginning. “Be a dear and fetch me a fresh copy, will you?”

The fact that this wasn’t all an elaborate plan by the Republic to assassinate him before he could reach the gallows suddenly dawned on Weathers. His training as one of the King’s Own Grenadiers kicked in. He allowed himself only a second to regret James’ passing.

He took the robe and slipped it on without question. The priest’s accent, which had suddenly dropped its Eastern Shieldian notes, was very familiar to Weathers, though he could not quite place it.

“Begging your pardon, father,” he said, though he was no longer convinced this priest was a priest, “But I think that smaller bugger would look right good in my clothes.”


(Jackson, eh? Well, do unto other before they do unto you ;) Check your TGs.)

"Right," the 'priest' said, "Here we go, hurry up now."

Two of the monks moved outside the door as Jackson walked into the room. The 'priest' walked up to Jackson before he could speak and handed him a folder containing various... incriminating pictures, and a sack of what sounded like some sort of heavy coins.

"Your service is almost done," the 'priest' continued as Weathers suit of clothing was placed on the smaller corpse. "I trust we won't get any harassment leaving the city?"

-----

A little later...

A car containing the 'priest' and his entourage moved through the streets at a slow, leisurely pace.

"We don't want to attract too much attention," the man sais to Weathers before doing what looked to be scratching his temple.

"Falcon to base," he said into what Weathers thought was the man's wrist. "Take out ready to come home, but we don't have egg roll."

The car wove through traffic, and once the driver was convinced they had lost their tail, turned towards a small manor house on the outskirts of the city.

-----

The next day...

A young boy, no more than 15, walked into the IanCorp offices with a copy of a bound folder under one arm.

"Hello," he told the receptionist, "I have a package for immediate delivery to the national desk editor."

(Jackson, eh? Well, do unto other before they do unto you ;) Check your TGs.)

"Right," the 'priest' said, "Here we go, hurry up now."

Two of the monks moved outside the door as Jackson walked into the room. The 'priest' walked up to Jackson before he could speak and handed him a folder containing various... incriminating pictures, and a sack of what sounded like some sort of heavy coins.

"Your service is almost done," the 'priest' continued as Weathers suit of clothing was placed on the smaller corpse. "I trust we won't get any harassment leaving the city?"

Weathers recognized the Director of Justice and, for one wild second, imagined again that this was all a set up. However, the obvious bribe (or blackmail?) put those fears to rest.

"Of course not," snapped Jackson. "It's all been arranged." He checked the contents quickly. "There's a Stockley waiting through that door. Take Revolution as far as Sarawak, then turn west. I'll delay suspicion as long as I can -- but no promises. The Director of War is a very cunning man."

A little later...

A car containing the 'priest' and his entourage moved through the streets at a slow, leisurely pace.

"We don't want to attract too much attention," the man sais to Weathers before doing what looked to be scratching his temple.

"Falcon to base," he said into what Weathers thought was the man's wrist. "Take out ready to come home, but we don't have egg roll."

The car wove through traffic, and once the driver was convinced they had lost their tail, turned towards a small manor house on the outskirts of the city.

Traffic was relatively light, and they found that Jackson's route had been emptied of police presence. Whether this was by design or a result of the circus being held in Gull Flag Square was a coin toss.

"I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth," said Weathers. "But mind if I ask just what is going on?"

The next day...

A young boy, no more than 15, walked into the IanCorp offices with a copy of a bound folder under one arm.

"Hello," he told the receptionist, "I have a package for immediate delivery to the national desk editor."

The receptionist dubiously took the package. She eyed the little urchin, decided he was no card, and flipped him a keneral for the delivery. The package was then sent through system until, hours later, it ended up on the coordinating editor for national coverage's desk. He opened it casually and pulled out a large stack of papers.

"Well," he said, "I didn't know you could do that with a sheep."

Traffic was relatively light, and they found that Jackson's route had been emptied of police presence. Whether this was by design or a result of the circus being held in Gull Flag Square was a coin toss.

"I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth," said Weathers. "But mind if I ask just what is going on?"

"No, I don't mind you asking," the man replied. "It's just a simple, everyday rescue. We were supposed to get you and Callahan out. But Callahan decided it was more important to be a martyr. So there's no telling how our boss is going to react to this. He might just nuke the entire country from orbit. Oh, here we go. Get your hood on and your head down."

After Weathers hid his face with the rest of the 'monks', the car ended up at the gate of an old manor house.

"Let us in will ya dear?" The man said to one of the guards as they approached.


The receptionist dubiously took the package. She eyed the little urchin, decided he was no card, and flipped him a keneral for the delivery. The package was then sent through system until, hours later, it ended up on the coordinating editor for national coverage's desk. He opened it casually and pulled out a large stack of papers.

"Well," he said, "I didn't know you could do that with a sheep."

(And don't forget the altar boys, and the hookers dressed up like nuns) ;)

"No, I don't mind you asking," the man replied. "It's just a simple, everyday rescue. We were supposed to get you and Callahan out. But Callahan decided it was more important to be a martyr. So there's no telling how our boss is going to react to this. He might just nuke the entire country from orbit. Oh, here we go. Get your hood on and your head down."

After Weathers hid his face with the rest of the 'monks', the car ended up at the gate of an old manor house.

"Let us in will ya dear?" The man said to one of the guards as they approached.

The reminder that James was dead hit Weathers hard; he had spent his entire adult life in the service of the King and vowed to protect him at any cost. And now he had failed without even sacraficing himself.

He had by now a pretty good idea of who 'the boss' was. If Jeff Williams' numerous visits to Dûn Ádien -- and his famous temper -- were any indication, the fact that James had died a martyr on the gallows would be of small protection for those who had failed.

(And don't forget the altar boys, and the hookers dressed up like nuns) ;)

((ooc: ...sexy =P))

The reminder that James was dead hit Weathers hard; he had spent his entire adult life in the service of the King and vowed to protect him at any cost. And now he had failed without even sacraficing himself.

He had by now a pretty good idea of who 'the boss' was. If Jeff Williams' numerous visits to Dûn Ádien -- and his famous temper -- were any indication, the fact that James had died a martyr on the gallows would be of small protection for those who had failed.

((Me Grimlock, smash nation!!))

The guards waved in the car as they checked the perimeter. The rumble of the engine could be heard throughout the compound as it slid into the garage. The engine slipped into silence as the door closed behind them and the team jumped out of the car and led Weathers through the reinforced hallway. The team leader handed the keys to another man who passed them.

"Make sure Jackson gets this car back tonight and get back here ASAP. That package gets delivered tomorrow, and I'm guessing that if it's published, the torches and pitchforks will start forming around the Cathedral," he said before walking on.

"Now, Mr. Weathers. Can we get you something to drink? Water? Tea? A good strong bourbon?"

The group walked up to the door of a study. The team leader knocked and waited as a voice called out from behind the door.

"Come in."

The leader brushed his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes, opened the door, and led Weathers into the room. Someone was seated in a leather chair, with his back to the group.

((How long from the second presidential election in Larkinia has this been?))

"Now, Mr. Weathers. Can we get you something to drink? Water? Tea? A good strong bourbon?"

"Bourbon," grinned Weathers. "The stronger the better."

The group walked up to the door of a study. The team leader knocked and waited as a voice called out from behind the door.

"Come in."

The leader brushed his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes, opened the door, and led Weathers into the room. Someone was seated in a leather chair, with his back to the group.

((ooc: oooh, mysterious!))

Weathers was more than a little bit apprehensive about the setup. He had started to proscribe the failure to rescue James as a personal failure on his part.

"Mr President?" he ventured.

((How long from the second presidential election in Larkinia has this been?))

((ooc: erm, six months from the time James was captured...however long that is =D))

"Bourbon," grinned Weathers. "The stronger the better."

"Of course," the man said, snapping his fingers at one of the men huddled around the bottle. "Get the man a drink, three fingers worth and no ice."

One of the other men handed Weathers a drink as the group kept moving towards the study.


((ooc: oooh, mysterious!))

Weathers was more than a little bit apprehensive about the setup. He had started to proscribe the failure to rescue James as a personal failure on his part.

"Mr President?" he ventured.

((Heh heh heh, who me? Mysterious? ;) I still need to hold that election, so I'll just say.... Jeff lost the election. Yeah, that's it. Oh yeah, and I still have one of your lackeys down in the basement cell)) ;)

"No, not yet at least," the man said as he turned around in the chair.

(It's... Javin Katana!!! :P )

A black man in his late 30's stood up from the chair and walked forward. He extended his hand to Weathers. "Name's Markson. Admiral Chris Markson. It's nice to meet you Mr. Weathers. I wish it were under happier circumstances. Jeff hasn't made it here yet. It's a good thing too, as you can guess."

((Heh heh heh, who me? Mysterious? ;) I still need to hold that election, so I'll just say.... Jeff lost the election. Yeah, that's it. Oh yeah, and I still have one of your lackeys down in the basement cell)) ;)

(It's... Javin Katana!!! :P )

((Hah! if only! =P And...yeah. i think I remember that fellow. Steve somethingortheother, right?))

"No, not yet at least," the man said as he turned around in the chair.

A black man in his late 30's stood up from the chair and walked forward. He extended his hand to Weathers. "Name's Markson. Admiral Chris Markson. It's nice to meet you Mr. Weathers. I wish it were under happier circumstances. Jeff hasn't made it here yet. It's a good thing too, as you can guess."

Weathers had moved his drink to his left hand and started to salute, but the outstretched hand quickly turned that gesture into a shake.

"Admiral Markson, a pleasure to meet you. I know you, of course, by reputation." Weathers didn't know from the transcripts of Jeff's trial, of course, that Markson was black, but there had been enough multi-culturalism at Adie's Court that he was at least able to not make a complete ass out of himself, like most Shieldians would have.

"Yes. I dare say President Williams will be upset by this news?" He shook his head. "I'm damned sorry that we couldn't save the King, Admiral. I pledged my life to protect him."

((I presume that, like in the US, a former president is still called 'president'? If not, just edit "Mr" in there =)))

*This thread is under the benevolent observation of House Alderman, acting in their capacity as current protectors of the remaining members of the royal family and any other nobles who have sought sanctuary from Valinon. Also in their capacity as a nation that has devoted itself to seeing the true government of Iansisle restored, sorry but I don't have time for a full IC post at the present, and Valinon has also refused to recognize the so-called and self-proclaimed Gull Flag "Republic".*

OCC: Sorry about that cliffhanger there...I didn't notice the time.

IC:

Government House, Kingston

"An open letter on the subject of James Callahan's execution...We feel that no nation has more right than the people of the Gull Flag Republic to determine the fate of the deposed King James I. The Commonwealth of Robotstan is saddened at the news of Citizen Callahan's death, and regrets that the gallows was the fate chosen for him. But we stand behind the people of Iansisle in their judgement. A government only exists because its subjects consent to its rule, and a government can only exist so long as it fulfills its obligation to its subjects. The Grand Empire of the Shield and its monarch, James I, paid no heed to the hardships and worries faced by its subjects and shirked on its soveriegn obligations. It is not difficult for the Commonwealth of Robotstan to sympathise with the Gull Flag Republic, having so recently thrown-off the Feudalist yoke ourselves. Absolutist government creates nothing but bitterness in the minds of its subjects and leaves nothing but discontent. It is only natural that the subjects, finding themselves, by the grace of god, masters of their own destiny, choose to hold the offending monarch accountable.

James Callahan's situation is not different than that of a common criminal. Murderers the world over are put to death for killing a single person. Citizen Callahan's actions, directly or indirectly, caused the deaths of many thousands of innocents. It flies in the face of justice that some would advocate allowing citizen Callahan off without answering for his crimes.

This government stands ready to support the Gull Flag Republic and accepts the sentance delivered by the people of Iansisle."

"Is that it?"

"Yes, thankyou Teresa."

The secretary hurries off to the teletype room, brushing past Josip Kandinsky as he enters the Foreign Minister's office. Mpana gets up to shake the Defense Minister's hand and offers him a seat in a polished leather chair opposite his desk.

"Always a pleasure, Josip. Callahan is dead, and I need not tell you how much trouble this is going to make for us, and violence is not outside the realm of possibility. We need to look into reinforcing our naval expedition already there, for starters."

"It will be difficult to find the ships. Most of what's free is already there, but the 10th Destroyer Flotilla could probably be spared from blockade duty, along with Orwell, Daring, Furious, and Implacable*. I can also reshuffle some of the Shackleton units if it comes to that. But I'd advise against showing too much support for the Gull Flaggers, with the Valinor all up in arms about it."

"The Valinor...well, that's one problem that we won't solve in the near future. If they tell us to back off, we'll back off. If not, we can safely assume that they don't care. We can't afford having more damn fascists in the area, with that bastard Miquel still around. He's our first priority when it comes to defense and we can't forget the threat that he poses. One misstep and it'll be ourselves in the gallows."

"From what I've seen, though, these Larkinians have capabilities similar to the Valinor, and they've already come out in favor of Callahan. After that, there's the Excalbians, Knootians too, more likely than not...our list of potential enemies grows almost daily..."

"But it hasn't even come to that, yet, Josip. Even if one of them decides to make a stink of it, there's no telling if the others will follow on. We can count on sanctions and we can count on cooled relations, but we shouldn't count on war. I said it was within the realm of possibility, but I didn't say it was probable..."

"Don't you think we run the risk of provoking them to action?"

"I don't see how the Larkinians and whoever they're conspiring with are about to be threatened by four light cruisers."

"I'll take your word for it, then."

"Cigar?"

"No, thanks. I'm due at the Admiralty in an hour. Good seeing you, Francis."

"And you."

*All Jervis class light cruisers, ex-Dido.

"Oh, I don't know that they had car-bombs -or cars, for that matter- during the revolution, sir..."

"Of cou..."

Mainwaring stopped to whip his deputy with a corrective glare: we may be running flat-out away from America, but, until they can follow us, we're not semantically associating American independence with the wonderful modern Iansislian situation. He went back to talking about how, "This..." with a referential rustling of his copy of today's Standard, which contains a story about another terrorist outrage in the Commonwealth of New York, "...is precisely the sort of carry-on that made the British leave in the first place!" which Wilson, ever impudent, suggested had possibly been the point.

The extraction of Walmingtonian anchors from the North American continent felt like ripping free one's own teeth in order to satisfy a would-be bully that there was no need to kick them out, and, like such a flinching act of auto-dentistry, it was taking a lot longer than a smack in the mouth. Four hundred thousand troops deployed for several years in one ridiculously big theatre had been insufficient to avert the need to raise native militias, especially after the uncivilised enemy started to mount 3" anti-armour weapons on its tanks and to obliterate whole Cavalry Cruiser regiments without concern. Since these local auxiliaries had, due largely to their consisting almost wholly of people who didn't want Walmington there in the firstplace, "proven less than entirely satisfactory", the equally counter-productive imperial levy was raised to cover the Royal Walmingtonian Army's greatest ever retreat. This conscription was completed with quarter of a million non-whites, only to be there-after disbanded, sending thousands of militarily-trained imperial subjects to carry back to Saharaland, Waynesia, and Ceyloba this tale of the Empire's failure and of the newly weak state of the little white Walmy.

Even now, as efforts were on-going in a hopeful try to pop New York back on to America's mantlepiece without causing a fuss as to why it was ever absent, Swallow Bank House was more at ease talking about the Western Atlantic than what must be going on at this moment in the North Pacific.

After the Deputy PM's yielding to the Premier in a familar round of teaspoon fencing over the third helping, Mainwaring's second sugarcube was dropped messily into his Ceyloban evening blend. While the big Whigs sipped their tea, oddly bitter in spite of the Malagasy sugar, the puddle in George's saucer cooled in time with the more macabre leavings in a distant square.

...There was nothing to be said by a government admiring of upstanding royalty but committed deeply to positive relations with the Republic. It was, perhaps, hoped that silence was respectful, so long as it was fairly soon followed-up with the purchase of some oil or the sale of a car with a typewriter in the dashboard, or something.

- - - - -

Until recently, the most significant item on the life-résumé of Ivor Comstive, Royal Walmingtonian Engineering Corps Documentary Engineer, was, well, erm, he once squealed on a bar-fight between Walmingtonian merchant navy sailors and Iansislian servicemen. But, having seen the error of his ways, and more importantly of everbody else's, so he thought, Ivor the Engineer had joined the trades union movement and risen, over the course of a decade, to the chairmanship of Walmington's third political party, Social Labour. His was the only major political institution in WoS to comment on the execution's passing without slinging mud at anybody who hadn't been hanged. Perhaps, said Comstive's preliminary note on the matter, justice has now found its way into the vast estate of traditional hereditary immunity, and, thanks to this pioneering, His Warmongering Majesty might also one day be forced to account for theft and murder. The Chairman would shoehorn in an invitation for a visit by Lawrence Madders, but this he had done on a shamefully regular and meek basis for a good many years, always without the approval of anyone in real power, and rarely with any clear purpose other than that he may have wanted a photograph with the fellow his comrades long ago made something of a hero.

- - - - -

Down the road from Swallow Bank, at opposition HQ, a famous loudmouth lead the Tory rush to condemnation, dictating a communiqué from the Walmingtonian Conservatives that would lambaste just about every name in Gull Flagger contemporary authority or famous history, finishing with a promise that, at least, the Walmingtonian crown would be around to rebuild a country out of whatever wreckage may greet the next Pacific sunrise.

For his part, King Godfrey III would -being imbued with two fewer bottles of brandy- dispatch a much less tempestuous note than Sir Henry's, and absolutely would not imply new imperial aggression, though his would read of certainty and sadness at the hurt done this day to relations between two peoples... and would they like to buy some Malagasy vanilla?

Given the situation, Walmington would be much surprised to further increase its exports to the Republic, but, after so long at war and without much being sold to the Americas or mainland Europe, King and government were both struggling to pay-off debts to foreign nations and, locally, to certain knightly businessmen, and were sufficiently terrified of an Iansislian collapse to be deeply committed in another game of ostriches in the sand.

"From what I've seen, though, these Larkinians have capabilities similar to the Valinor, and they've already come out in favor of Callahan. After that, there's the Excalbians, Knootians too, more likely than not...our list of potential enemies grows almost daily..."

*snip*

"I don't see how the Larkinians and whoever they're conspiring with are about to be threatened by four light cruisers."


((Conspire? Me? I just showed up for the free pizza ;) ))

Weathers had moved his drink to his left hand and started to salute, but the outstretched hand quickly turned that gesture into a shake.

"Admiral Markson, a pleasure to meet you. I know you, of course, by reputation." Weathers didn't know from the transcripts of Jeff's trial, of course, that Markson was black, but there had been enough multi-culturalism at Adie's Court that he was at least able to not make a complete ass out of himself, like most Shieldians would have.

"Yes. I dare say President Williams will be upset by this news?" He shook his head. "I'm damned sorry that we couldn't save the King, Admiral. I pledged my life to protect him."

((I presume that, like in the US, a former president is still called 'president'? If not, just edit "Mr" in there =)))

((Yeah, they probably are still called "president", remember that we've only had like, two presidents ;) ))

Markson nodded, "Yeah, he's not going to be very happy about all of this. But so far Iansisle is still standing, so I guess that he's starting to mellow out in his old age. He's been so frustrated by Parliament not letting him send out the military en masse."

Markson reached out and put his hand on Weathers' shoulder, "It sounds like there wasn't anything you could do for King James after the capture. And regardless of what we tried to do, there was no way we could get him out. The government wanted their pound of flesh."

He walked back to the desk and picked up a glass of bourbon. "But that's passed, there's nothing we can do about that. Here and now, we have to get you out of here as quickly as possible. Is there anywhere you want to go?"

((Yeah, they probably are still called "president", remember that we've only had like, two presidents ;) ))

Markson nodded, "Yeah, he's not going to be very happy about all of this. But so far Iansisle is still standing, so I guess that he's starting to mellow out in his old age. He's been so frustrated by Parliament not letting him send out the military en masse."

"I don't think I could ever imagine Jeff Williams as an old man, sir," said Weathers with a half-smile. It was hard to think on that, since he wasn't much more than a few years younger than the former Larkinian president.

Markson reached out and put his hand on Weathers' shoulder, "It sounds like there wasn't anything you could do for King James after the capture. And regardless of what we tried to do, there was no way we could get him out. The government wanted their pound of flesh."

"Thank you, sir," said Weathers quietly, averting his eyes briefly. Markson's words were kind, but he wasn't quite convinced.

He walked back to the desk and picked up a glass of bourbon. "But that's passed, there's nothing we can do about that. Here and now, we have to get you out of here as quickly as possible. Is there anywhere you want to go?"

"Out of Iansisle," said Weathers without a moment's hesitation. "As far as I can go. There's nothing left for me here -- the corporatists killed my family and the republicans killed my king."

He paused for a second. "Erm, I suppose I've forgotten to thank you, sir. For rescuing me."

"I don't think I could ever imagine Jeff Williams as an old man, sir," said Weathers with a half-smile. It was hard to think on that, since he wasn't much more than a few years younger than the former Larkinian president.



"Thank you, sir," said Weathers quietly, averting his eyes briefly. Markson's words were kind, but he wasn't quite convinced.



"Out of Iansisle," said Weathers without a moment's hesitation. "As far as I can go. There's nothing left for me here -- the corporatists killed my family and the republicans killed my king."

He paused for a second. "Erm, I suppose I've forgotten to thank you, sir. For rescuing me."

Markson nodded, "You're welcome, I'm glad we were able to get you out." He took a long draw from his glass before continuing. "I'm sorry about your family. Hopefully we can get you far enough away from here. I think there are a couple of companies in Golden Agate that would be interested in hiring someone with extensive knowledge of Iansisle. What do you say? Think you could handle making seven figures and not have to leave the Corporate zone?"

-----

A couple days later

Department of Military Affairs, Golden Agate

"Yes sir!" the young officer barked into the phone. "Right away sir! I'll pass the message along."

The man hung up the phone and walked into the nearby conference room. "Sirs," he said saluting after he walked in. "That was the soon-to-be ex-President on the phone. As you can guess the situation in Iansisle has..."

"Pissed him off?" Air General, and head of the Military Chiefs, Sean Devlin, a middle-aged, broad-chested man with a shock of red hair and sharp green eyes, asked.

"Yes sir."

General Devlin nodded as he looked around the room at the assembled heads of the military.

"So what's on the agenda?"

An older man cleared his throat. Mark Hodges, director of the Larkinian Intelligence Agency, looked at the group. "Gentlemen, our satellites have been measuring increased naval activity in the region since the execution of Callahan. It seems that Iansisle might find itself in the middle of a shooting war."

"How bad is it?" Devlin asked.

Hodges sighed. "Well, there are enough ships just outside of Iansislian territorial waters that you can almost walk from Lyonne to Dun Adien without getting your feet wet."

Devlin nodded. "Well, we can't have all of these ships off of Iansisle's coast, and by extension hanging around our coast, without a response."

"Are you thinking a small flotilla?"

"Not really," Devlin said with a shake of his head. "Mobilize the Ninth Fleet out of Lyonne. Send them on standard maneuvers. I want the Sixth Sub group running silent with them. And keep a group of mil-dynes on stand by."

Aboard INV Holy Empire, Steaming Towards Iansisle…

Vice Admiral Lord Guntis Sorensen stood on the flag bridge, arms crossed behind his back, watching his intelligence and tactical officers plot ship movements on the map table. Sorensen cleared his throat and the intelligence officer stood, snapping briefly to attention.

“My Lord,” Lieutenant Commander Isaiah Brooks said crisply, “we have reports from our observer planes of ships moving this direction.” LCDR Brooks pointed towards the map. “We believe they are an Iansislean destroyer flotilla that was conducting exercises in the area. They may be moving to intercept us here,” the intelligence officer pointed to a spot on the squadron’s current heading toward Iansisle.

“Hmmm,” VADM Sorenson murmured as he studied the map.

“We’ve also received a report from one of our submarines on reconnaissance that there is at least one cruiser squadron on patrol within range to support the destroyers.”

Sorensen stepped closer to the map and leaned on the table. “I doubt they will be content to challenge us with destroyers and cruisers; they will bring up battle cruisers at least and probably battleships.”

LCDR Richard Grasis nodded. “I agree sir,” the tactical officer said. “Our pre-sail intelligence indicated at least five battlewagons in Iansislean home waters. I suspect most, if not all, will make an appearance.”

Sorensen nodded. “Alter course to take us towards the Iansislean flotilla. Move our destroyer picket to cover our flank in the direction of the cruiser squadron. We’ll keep the two cruisers with us and send the two missile cruisers to support our destroyers. I want active sub patrols ahead of the squadron and I want regular combat air patrols from both carrier escorts.”

“Yes, sir,” Grasis said.

“Any indication of air movements on the Iansislean side yet?”

“No, my Lord.”

Sorensen nodded. “In that case, we’ll move Sigulda and Valmiera into formation with us.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And, Mr. Grasis, send a message to the Citadel requesting additional support. I am not too fond of potentially challenging upwards of five battleships, a cruiser squadron and who knows how many battle cruisers and destroyer flotillas with three battlewagons, four cruisers and two escort carriers.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

* * *

Ministry of Defence, Citadel Excalbia

Sir David Butler drummed his fingers on the railing overlooking the Ministry’s two-storey war room. The short balding man had been a fixture in the MoD for nearly seven years and was the only minister from the previous Progressive Conservative government to keep his portfolio in the current coalition. In fact, he was now a veteran of three successive governments.

“Well, my Lord,” the Minister said to the large uniformed man beside him, “His Imperial Majesty wanted to draw the attention of the republicans in Iansisle and I believe we have accomplished that mission.”

“We have indeed, Sir David,” Lord Admiral Harry Fanning said, his expression hidden by a full beard. “Perhaps more so that we expected.”

“Really?”

The Chief of the General Staff nodded. “Vice Admiral Sorensen believes he may soon be facing a significant portion of the Iansislean Home Fleet; he has requested additional support.”

Sir David suppressed a chuckle as he shook his head. “Lord Sorensen has always been a tad on the cautious side. And, it is not as if we are expecting to go to battle against the Iansisleans. Perhaps we should remind the admiral that his mission is to show the flag and rattle his saber, not engage in combat.”

“Of course, Sir David,” Fanning said flatly. “However, there is always the risk that the Iansisleans may overreact and that we may find ourselves with a battle whether we wish it or not.”

Sir David turned to face the Chief of Staff. He rubbed his chin for a moment, then nodded. “Perhaps, my Lord. Perhaps.” He turned back to the big map on the wall below him. “We can send New Boston and its squadron towards the region and put them in position to respond if Iansisle escalates the situation.”

“Quite prudent, Sir David.”

The Minister turned to Fanning. “One thing I would like, however, is a clearer picture of what the Iansisleans are doing. I would like a few U2 overflights…”

“I will see to it, my Lord.”

(OOC: A note about my squadron...
Holy Empire is a Fleet Battleship (FBB); its specs are - displacement: 68,300, armour: 17.5”, guns: 12X16”, speed: 28 knots. Valmiera and Sigulda are Battleships (BB); their specs are – displacement: 45,200, armour: 17.5”, guns: 9X16”, speed: 34 knots.
Specs on our two regular cruisers (CAG) are - displacement: 17,600, armour: 4”, arms: 6X8” guns, 2 twin SAM launchers, speed: 32 knots. And for our two missile cruisers (CGM) they are - displacement: 16,600, armour: 3”, arms: 8 quad anti-ship missile launchers and 8 quad SAM launchers, speed: 35 knots. Our two escort carriers displace 16,600, carry 20 aircraft each and are capable of 26 knots. In addition we have a 10 destroyers and 5 submarines.)

((LRR))

Private letter sent to the Robotistani Prime Minister

Dearest Friend,

The government of the Gull Flag Republic is extremely grateful that your government has so publicly declared itself in support of our Revolution. I understand that the execution of James Callahan -- which, in hindsight, may have been a poor move from the standpoint of international public relations, if a just and democratic decision -- has put your country in a perilous position with the Valinor. Myself and the entire Assembly regret greatly this burden that has been placed upon you.

Lunatic Retard Robots has proven a most loyal and trustworthy ally in a time of desperate need. By this letter, I commit the entire armed forces of the Republic as much to the defense of Robotistan as to their guardianship of their homeland, for indeed the difference between Robot and Shieldian is now thin. Rest assured that, should any reactionary backlash fall upon your country -- military, economic, or otherwise -- the Republic will do its utmost to see you through it.

May God protect our friendship,

Benjamin Rinehart, Premier Interim

Press release

The Gull Flag Republic of the Iansislean Peoples thanks the the Parliament Funkadelic of Lunatic Retard Robots for its outpouring of support. In these dark days, it seems that few nations are capable of judging the will of their people, much less that of a foreign peoples.

The Republic shall stand arm-in-arm with Robotistan in a friendship unbroken by any tide of reactionary absolutism.

---

While the big Whigs sipped their tea,

((hah!))

The official silence of the Walmingtonian government was well-noted on the Shield, with no fair degree of relief on the Shield. With relationships largely cooled after the American war and the Shieldian economy in a recession (which -- between the labor crunch caused by the war, the hyper-inflation, the near-famine, the loss of foreign trade, the troubles in Gallaga, and all that ‘bad business’ -- bordered on a complete economic disaster), the new embassies exchanged by Empire and Kingdom were seen as a Godsend. Also, the fact that at least one monarchial government had not come out in full-scale condemnation of the regicide was a tool in the Republic’s inventory of PR tricks to use in an attempt to prevent itself from becoming a full-fledged pariah.

In other sectors of Jameston Place, Lawrence Madders took a few moments out of his busy day to scrawl a quick note to one ‘Ivan’ Comstive (whose name he had been getting wrong for years) that, regretfully, with his busy schedule on the Shield, he would once again not be able to make it to Walmington on Sea. He did thank Comstive and Social Labour for their kind words and assured them that, through solidarity, the international revolution would one day come to fruition.

Sir Henry’s letter was returned to the Tories’ headquarters unopened, with a note scrawled on the back in near-illegible handwriting to the effect that the Republic did not make policy with the interests of greedy plutocratic corporatist interests in mind, thankyouforyourinterest. The reply to King Godfrey was (slightly) more diplomatic, expressing a shared regret that this incident was seen as unjust in Walmington, but reaffirming that it was the will of the people. Some sugar would also be lovely.

---

Markson nodded, "You're welcome, I'm glad we were able to get you out." He took a long draw from his glass before continuing. "I'm sorry about your family. Hopefully we can get you far enough away from here. I think there are a couple of companies in Golden Agate that would be interested in hiring someone with extensive knowledge of Iansisle. What do you say? Think you could handle making seven figures and not have to leave the Corporate zone?"


“Golden Agate would make a nice home, sir,” said Weathers, although he hesitated. “I am worried, though, sir -- I’ve no real experience with all your modern gizmos. I’ve heard stories about Iansisleans taking up jobs in Larkinia and it, well, not being kind to them. Just rumors, of course, sir,” he added, hasty not to give offense to his benefactor.

---

((Ex: I’m having a little trouble working on your post; as is my habit whenever naval matters come into the fore, I go on mercilessly for the simple pleasure of hearing myself talk while losing sight of the major picture. I’m writing yours up now, but figured I ought to get the rest of these up since it might be a while. =) I’ll have yours ASAP.))

EDIT: I do have this map of the immediate coastal are of Iansisle drawn up. I'm sure I've forgotten some things (like a scale, for one thing. Just for reference, it's about 450 miles from Mansmouth to Ianapalis), but all the major capes and other nautical references I use should be here.

RE-EDIT: Bah, and I made a naming mistake on there. The river labeled "River Dalen" is acutally the River Duner. The River Dalen is that tributary which comes from the South and joins the Mans. (and the River near Ianapalis, which I left unlabeled for god-knows-what-reason is the Penton. I'll need to fix this thing up later.) >.<

RE-RE-EDIT: Aaaand the Island of Troobodia should have been on this map. It's roughly due south of the mouths of the Oes and slightly smaller than Sentry Island. BAH!

RE-RE-RE-EDIT: I've also managed to flux up the scaling on the Shield. The western part of the country is too big and the eastern too small. The Mans should be about half again shorter than it is (so the source of the Dalen (the REAL one) is closer to the source of the Duner (the fake Dalen). The Daldon should be farther west than it is on this map, while Ianapalis should stay about where it is. I'm just going to scrap this piece of junk and try again tomorrow.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v294/DrIquan/waters.jpg

“Golden Agate would make a nice home, sir,” said Weathers, although he hesitated. “I am worried, though, sir -- I’ve no real experience with all your modern gizmos. I’ve heard stories about Iansisleans taking up jobs in Larkinia and it, well, not being kind to them. Just rumors, of course, sir,” he added, hasty not to give offense to his benefactor.

Markson nodded. He'd heard concerns like this before in recruiting people form Iansisle.

"All of our modern gizmos aren't that hard to understand, once you spend some time with them. And there are classes and the like you can take to understand them faster. I am concerned about these rumors. What kind of rumors have you heard? We have a fairly extensive social safety net in Larkinia for people with... problems."

((Surely no rumors about naval fleets and aerodynes full of cybertroops in the area... ;) ))

GFS Foray
West of the Unsterbank Shoals

Lieutenant Commander Abner Pearsdon patrolled his destroyer’s quarterdeck with his hands grasped behind his back like a tyrant-captain of the old navy, keeping his officers and men at work with a mere scowl. His ship had the patrol just to the west of the Unsterbank, a series of preanimate islands in the very south of the Western Marches. At low tide, some of the higher peaks even showed themselves to the sun, only to vanish as the water came back in. A hundred and fifty years ago, these jagged navigational hazards had been the site of the last of Iansisle’s great battles of sail, where the Marquess of Tri, flying his flag from the Royal Ian, had smashed the Dénian fleet and decided the war for wealth and Empire in Gallaga in Iansisle’s favor.

His ship was searching for the Excalbian fleet. Such a droll job might have been regulated to the Flying Corps’ Coastal Command search craft, but his squadrons proximity to the southern Marches and the historic tension between Navy and the Flyers meant that a destroyer squadron would be more effective, if more archaic. The Foray’s powerful surface search radranger scoured the water for the Excalbian ships, but it was their air-search radranger which made the first spot. An aerocraft, not responding to Iansislean IFF calls, now circled high above the destroyer. Its appearance had confirmed Pearsdon in his estimation that the Excalbian fleet must be close by and he had ordered the ship worked up to twenty-five knots.

“Deck there!” came a sudden cry.

“What do you see?” called the first lieutenant to the rating in the mainmast observation deck.

“Smoke on the horizon, sir!” called the same voice.

“Where away?”

“Fine on the starboard bow, sir!”

Pearsdon took up his glass and, stepping to the flying balcony on the starboard side of the quarterdeck, scanned the horizon. At first, he saw nothing. Then -- yes, by God! -- a faint trace of oil smoke.

“Radranger confirms, sir!” called the man at that station. “Reading two signals three points to starboard.”

“A picket, sir?” asked the first lieutenant. Pearsdon did not condescend to make reply.

The smoke on the horizon was thickened and more and more radranger contacts were detected. Then, at last, a destroyer came hull-up over the horizon. Half a dozen glasses immediately went to her.

“Excalbian colors,” said the first lieutenant.

“Let’s show them ours,” Pearsdon said. “Hoist colors.”

The orders were relayed and the Red Ensign -- a red field with a spread-winged white Gull in the top-left quadrant -- was hoisted on the mizzen.

“Yeoman,” snapped Pearsdon, irritated that the young man had not been immediately at his side once the destroyer came into sight.

“Yes sir?” said the yeoman when he had at last made it to his captain’s side.

“Make to Aquatic: ‘Have sighted Excalbian fleet at give coordinates. Course nor-nor-easterly, speed give speed. Intend to render passing honors to picket and come about on parallel course to shadow with radranger.’ Send that off at once. Mr Weighton!” Pearsdon added, suddenly addressing the first lieutenant while the yeoman scurried off to make the report.

“Sir!”

“Alter course to pass close alongside them. Also, inform the gunner that we will have a full twenty-one gun salute to their flag.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Weighton before turning to the quartermaster. “Right standard rudder, steady course -- erm.” Weighton had to check the binnacle before finishing his order, which infuriated Pearsdon. “Steady course two-zero-seven.”

“Right standard rudder, steady course two-zero-seven aye, sir,” said the quartermaster. The Foray came about smartly -- the Zetas were among the best-handling ships in the Navy -- with a course to cut across the Excalbian destroyer’s bow.

“Left standard rudder, steady on course one-seven-nine,” ordered Weighton after about ten minutes. Confirmation of their intentions had already come back from the Commodore. The rest of the flotilla had been ordered to concentrate on the Aquatic’s location, some hundred and fifty miles northeast of the Foray. Their new course would take them within three hundred yards to starboard of the other ship.

After they had closed to roughly five miles, the Foray began firing off her salute. Onboard her, the boatswain’s whistle summoned idle hands and the marines to the Foray’s starboard railing.

“Drums,” ordered Pearsdon as the two ships closed. The marine drummer on the quarterdeck began a roll and the ship’s music -- somewhat pathetically limited to a set of bagpipes, a flute, and a fiddle -- launched into a crude approximation of the Excalbian national anthem. The officers removed their caps and the men put their knuckles to their foreheads as the two ships passed.

Markson nodded. He'd heard concerns like this before in recruiting people form Iansisle.

"All of our modern gizmos aren't that hard to understand, once you spend some time with them. And there are classes and the like you can take to understand them faster. I am concerned about these rumors. What kind of rumors have you heard? We have a fairly extensive social safety net in Larkinia for people with... problems."

Weathers suddenly felt very on the spot.

"Well, sir, they're not but rumors, really," he said, backpeddling quickly. "I've just heard that some folk go to Larkinia and have ..unnatural things done to themselves, is all. Hogswash's what I always told my mate Lawrence, sir, because he was the one telling these fairytales."

((Surely no rumors about naval fleets and aerodynes full of cybertroops in the area... ;) ))

((surely not! =P I haven't replied to that part of your post yet because I'm not sure what exactly the Iansislean response would be. Chances are that our intelligence on your movements would be much more limited than our intelligence on same-period powers and, in any case, the Admiralty would not be nearly as aggressive towards Larkinian ships out of fear.

And, speaking of fear, I can't help but notice that the Excalbian fleet includes surface-to-surface and surface-to-air missiles, while there are none of either in any branch of the Iansislean armed forces. That makes perfect sense; their superior electronics industry has been established. However, I do wonder about their capabilities: it's a form of naval warfare Iansisle only encountered at Salvador, for one thing, so we don't really have any countermeasures. How effective are these missiles in guiding to their targets? What's their range and payload? (sorry to pelt you with questions; I'm just naturally curious =)!)

Aaand, finally before bed, happy (almost) 8,000 posts, Lark!))

(OCC: If its any help, one (both? I don't really remember) of those cruisers the Parliamentary Navy sent over before is fitted with a Sea Cat launcher, and some of the navy's Parrot class destroyers have four RB-04 ASMs, so I don't suppose the North Pacific's revolutionaries are totally outclassed...

I'll have a response up in a little bit.)

OOC: Hey... don't mind if I join? This could be a good precursor RP to my planned RP. :)

Oh yeah, and if any of you are wondering, Magnus Valerius’s military tech level is around WWII era technology. However, non-military tech is all pretty much modern tech.

IC:

The Imperial Palace, Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
3:50 P.M.

Tsar Alexander III, recently coroneted and new emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius, sat in his garden enjoying his afternoon tea. Paskeyev, his most loyal servant and native of Borivich Selo (the hometown of House Borivich), poured him tea and served some blini cakes filled with Valerian Honey-Apricot Jam. The emperor, however, was really restless. Ever since he heard that High King James III (still recognized as the rightful sovereign of Iansisle in Magnus Valerius) was to be executed by so-called "revolutionaries", the emperor has been restless. After all, the Gull Flag Republic sent a representative to his coronation. If they could do this to their own king, imagine what spies from Iansisle could do to him. Paskeyev has volunteered to be the emperor's new Imperial Taste Tester, only to curb the emperor's short temper and paranoia.

Isangrad was seeing cloudy weather today, perhaps an omen of what is about to come. Thunder cracked in the distance, off towards the direction of King William’s Sea. Cars beeped and honked as rush hour began to pick up. Other than the gloomy weather, Isangrad remained the bustling metropolis, with its 27 million citizens in the Metro Area living, breathing, working, sleeping, and finding some time for themselves. Valeria’s prized motor companies, Valor Motors, Equestrian Autos, and Timorro Motor Company, planned to show off their new models in the Isangrad Industrial Expo that was gearing up for tomorrow. One such vehicle was Valor’s FL49, a 320 HP, 1002 Kg car that all of Valeria’s street racers were clamoring to get their hands on. Of course, Timorro Motors’s Ocelot Mk. VII was also good competition. Isangrad seems as if nothing significant was in store for the future, as people carried on with their lives and industry boomed.

What was different from the pell-mell daily traffic of Isangrad was a motorcade of government vehicles heading south on Imperial Highway 4. Inside was a messenger from the port city of Trentino, Damien Fedorov. He had grim news for the emperor on the state of High King James, news that the Valerian television and media companies have not heard word of yet.

“King James is dead,” muttered Fedorov to himself. Sitting next to him in the Equestrian Limousine was Admiral Pavel Kholmogorisky. Overseer of King William’s Fleet, he was first to hear the news from abroad and was ready to back Fedorov if the meeting with the emperor goes horribly wrong.

At 4:22, the emperor had finished his tea and blintsy and was ready to head off for a soak in the palace’s pool when Fedorov arrived with a contingent of guards.

“Your Majesty,” said Fedorov as he bowed before the tsar, “I have dire news. You see…”

“High King James III of Iansisle, rightful ruler of Iansisle, has been executed by treacherous ‘revolutionary’ scum,” interrupted Kholmogorisky.

The emperor paused for a moment, before he began to laugh manically. He smashed an expensive pool chair, made from fine Kydonian mahogany wood, before angrily staring at the two guests as if he were a Arnachian Lion eyeing its prey. The emperor was known to be rather psychologically unstable .

“What the hell?! You interrupt my daily swim for this news that I could receive later?” the tsar bellowed. Fedorov flinched and shielded his face while Kholmogorisky took a step backwards.

The emperor smiled and then calmed down. “No matter. I thank you two for such news. Now, Paskeyev will show you the guest room and will serve you tea. You are late! It’s past four o’clock, past teatime, but we still have some tea warming in the kitchen. Feel free to have some.”

The two messengers, taken aback by the emperor’s sudden hospitality, agreed and were whisked away to enjoy green tea and blintsy. The emperor got dressed and headed into his office, calling an emergency meeting with the ministers of Magnus Valerius. Today was a day that will put Magnus Valerius and its current emperor on a track to an uncertain future; the only thing certain is bloodshed.

The Office of the Council, Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
5:30 PM

Phillip Balmarik, Minister of War, pulled up in his ‘41 Equestrian Royale, first to arrive at the emperor’s bidding to form an emergency council. Not far behind him was Basil Paparigas, Minister of Trade and Commerce. The Important Seven Ministers all soon piled in and walked together up the marble stairs of the Office of the Council on Tago Street, about half a mile northeast away from the Imperial Palace in Isangrad. The Office of the Council was a Victorian office tower, five stories high, made from stone and marble with a fountain and lions guarding the walkway towards its double doors. The compound was enclosed from the rest of the city block by a tall red brick wall and a wrought iron gate.

On the third floor awaited Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven. A dossier labeled “The Shield” laid in front of him. He was all alone, save for a pair of Imperial Guards that patrolled the hallway outside the meeting room where the emperor resided.

The ministers piled in, all seven of them. They were known as the “Important Seven” only because they served the most purpose. There was Balmarik, Minister of War, Paparigas, Minister of Trade and Commerce, Feodor Gagarin, Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, Hadrian Valerisky, Minister of The Ports, Charles duPont, Minister of Internal Affairs and Infrastructure, Maksim Kaganovich, Minister of Agriculture, and Zarathustra Soghdian, Minister of The Census and the Baronial Council.

“Gentlemen, I have some important news for everyone. It seems that Iansisle has committed an atrocity, and has executed its rightful ruler, High King James III. I want to retaliate with harshness against the Gull Flag Republic. Paparigas, how does a trade embargo sound to you?”

Paparigas cleared his throat. “Ahem, well, we do ship a lot of grain and foodstuffs to Iansisle. Maybe we should starve them of food, liquor, and the like. It will surely reduce their morale, and will make them weak. Of course, this plan could be met with a retaliatory embargo on us. We do import plenty of exotic goods from Gallaga. We could see a shortage of luxury goods like ivory and spices, but at least they aren’t important items like food.”

“Sounds like a plan!” said the emperor with a grin.

“But, this may cause an international outrage,” gestured Gagarin.

“Not to mention that prices for grain will plummet domestically, causing farmers heartache,” chimed in Kaganovich.

“The risk of such diplomatic issues and ’farmer heartache’ is small,” said duPont.

“After all, we could just ship grain and food elsewhere,” added in Valerisky.

Gagarin and Kaganovich laid silent as the emperor began to propose military action against the Gull Flag Republic. He always wanted a war, and the death of King James makes a perfect excuse to try and flex Valeria’s muscles. Alexander III thought he would be made a hero of monarchies everywhere, crusading for the destruction of a republic that ousted a monarchy. He could be internationally famous, and could bring Magnus Valerius more diplomatic recognition than ever before.

“Okay, now we need to come up with a plan to invade and occupy the Gull Flag Republic as punishment for such a hideous crime as executing their former ruler. Balmarik?”

“We have plenty of men ready for service sire,” Balmarik said. “I could get a force ready to go within days.”

“As for the navy?” replied the emperor.

“We’ve got four dreadnoughts ready for duty, along with enough transports for a military force of about 200,000 men. It’s still going to be hellish to try to get that many men across the sea to Iansisle, so I recommend we stick with 20,000 men as an invading force. Other than dreadnoughts, we have several torpedo boats, fighters, bombers, battle cruisers, destroyers, and one aircraft carrier that can be ready for action.”

“Sounds great! Let’s assemble an expeditionary force, then, and get a fleet ready to send to Iansisle.”

The Council continued to debate a little while longer, but they were out by 6:25 PM. The plans were set, and Minister Gagarin has a diplomatic overture drafted by Tsar Alexander III to send to Iansisle.

“God, what an unstable dolt,” remarked Gagarin to himself as he read the emperor’s letter. He was referring to the emperor, who wanted a vile letter sent to the Gull Flag Republic before the tsar’s invasion force was deployed. “Tsar Alexander III is going to ruin Magnus Valerius.”




http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/CoA.png

To the Premier of The Assembly
The Gull Flag Republic

To The Premier and The People of the Gull Flag Republic,

An atrocity has been committed at the hands of our people, as your rightful and God-given ruler High King James III of Iansisle was executed. The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven views this as an utmost treachery and a diplomatic incident. It is a great insult to us for us, a monarchy, having relations with a republic who has ended its former king’s life. Therefore, we are diplomatically and physically reprimanding the Gull Flag Republic.

First and foremost, all Valerian grain and foodstuffs destined for export to Iansisle will no longer be shipped to the ports of the Gull Flag Republic. Instead, such grain will be shipped to surplus storehouses in Shorehaven. If you want such precious grain, you will have to take it by force.

Secondly, we are seriously considering military action. You have offended me, the Tsar of Magnus Valerius greatly, and I will not hold back the Grand Empire’s military firepower. If we do commit to military intervention, we will crush your puny military!

Sincerely Yours,
His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III Borivich
Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Letter Via Feodor Gagarin,
Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs
17 Georgios Avenue
Isangrad, Valeria, Magnus Valerius




The Ministry of War, Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
8:30 PM

The Minister of War, Phillip Balmarik, was hard at work with his staff to assemble an expeditionary force and a fleet to send to the Gull Flag Republic. He had already arranged for regiments to be grouped and ready for shipment, along with a large fleet of ships to send to Iansisle in case of a serious military engagement.



Royalist Expeditionary Force
Regiments: 7
Total Men: 20,020

XLI Pekhotnaya Divizhia. Wilhelmstadt Rifles
8,500 Valerian Men, Standard Infantry

XLII Pekhotnaya Divizhia. “Cannonade” Regiment
1,000 Valerian Men, artillerists, with 44 artillery pieces

XLIII Polk. “Tankers”
2 Tanks with 20 men

XLIV Kavaleriyskaya Divizia. “Szekely”
5,000 Magyar-Valerian Men, Cossacks

XLV Pekhotnaya Divizia. “Samurai”
1,500 Japanese-Valerian Men, with 32 machine guns

XLVI Pekhotnaya Polk. “Synghamburg Sharps”
500 Korean-Valerian Men, Sharpshooters.

XLVII Pekhotnaya Divizia. “Frenchies”
3,500 French-Valerian Men, Marines




Gull Flag Expeditionary Fleet
Total Ships: 21

1 Aircraft Carrier:
HMS Caesar Augustus, containing 82 aircraft

4 Dreadnoughts:
HMS Viktoria Velikaya, HMS Svetlana, HMS Sankt Pavel, HMS Meijis

3 Battlecruisers:
HMS Charleroi, HMS Jean-Charles, HMS Ivanov

8 Destroyers
HMS Lucky, HMS Ioann, HMS Karen, HMS Lion, HMS Eaglet, HMS Pyotr, HMS Didon, HMS Sparrow

5 Submarines
HMS Wolf, HMS Baron, HMS Vincent, HMS Pavlovsk, HMS Sousa

Nobody doubted that things were bad for the Ian. He may have done just about everything wrong, but Wally hadn't fared all that much better. True, Stockley was selling well in the North Pacific, but that company was terrified of a worsening Iansislian collapse that would leave nobody able to afford its luxury and newer middle-class family petrocarriages. Wychwood had made good, too, from the workshop of an eccentric Walmingtonian man to a wartime innovation shop.

But if the Ians -out of cash- stopped buying Stockley and Wychwood, the Walmingtonian and British markets weren't nearly enough to sustain an entire imperial economy on two vigarous firms in the same industry. Nobody else was buying opium anymore, either, and there was no prospect of selling Malagasy vanilla to Coke since that whole nuclear misunderstanding in the Americas.

There had been trouble ever since imperial troops carried word of the American debacle back to Africa and Gallaga. There was a questionmark over the will of the Whigs in respect of imperial integrity. Great Walmington seriously feared the loss of Mauritania and Saharaland, and of Togoland to confident rebel opposition, and there was even some concern over the Cape Colonies and Waynesia, and over Madagascar, and Ceyloba. It no longer seemed that Walmington had something to offer, nor represented anything to fear, inspite of having dropped the bomb.

With the Tories discredited as the cause of all this, and Social Labour simply going too far for the average Walmingtonian (though they may yet beat-out the Tories to become the official opposition), Mainwaring's Whigs had WoS good as pregnant and engaged.

And they saw the markets of a prosperous Shield as the only way to stay one step ahead of a re-industrialising America, and the only place to sell the results of high employment in the discontent colonies. If the Ians didn't keep buying Walmingtonian cars/tanks, and Imperial vanilla/sugar, there was only Sir Henry's Cape gold to fall back on, and, alone, that didn't seem to shine so brightly.

Off Vollumbo, Ceyloba, the Gallagan Fleet put out to sea. This was the first outing since the end of the anti-fascist war, and it showed. The flagship, aboard which sailed Admiral Governor Sir James Frazer, now a half-decrepit man whose white hair was broken only by flecks of grey, was none other than His Walmingtonian Majesty's Ship Royal Oak, once of the Iansislian fleet before rearmament, rearmouring, repainting, and rusting had rendered her hardly better than a museum piece. Her sister, Iansisle, had sunk a decade earlier, already obsolete, in the Denmark Strait after several times being straddled by the 15" guns of infamous Bismarck, her death answered by escorting HWMS Thresher's fatal torpedoing of the Prinz Eugen.

As the old lady struggled out on to the Bay of Bengal, she was joined by her stationed partners, HWMS's Deepdale and Marwood, Chaspot Class heavy cruisers, the Kentonshire Class light cruiser Kenilworth, I Class destroyer Dolly (sister to famous Thresher and Ajax), and II Class destroyers Infamous and Constant, the latter two present in spite of a government promise to strike their entire class for its utter uselessness.

The Walmingtonians were headed east, for the Pacific, maroon and gold fluttering through a welcome miazma of smoke that all feared may soon thin and die with the archaic and ill-tended boilers of the unready fleet.

(Oh, shit, the cat's on fire, I have to go (no, seriously, the cat is actually on fire, the stupid article))

Grand Harbour, Greater Kingston

Despite its historical status as the most important of all Parliament's three armed forces, the Robotstani Navy of National Liberation has been forced to tighten its belt for the first time as the focus of anti-Royalist operations shifts to the frozen, mountainous interior of Svenland. The Navy's main anchorage in the Robotstani capital, home to no fewer than eight battleships in 1945, now plays host to a grand total of four, although the reduced force is considered by many a blessing in disguise. For instance, all three of the deeply flawed Resolution-class ships, with their paper-thin decks and horrible weight distribution, were withdrawn and broken-up, and the three oldest ships, one of them a virtually useless pre-Dreadnought, were finally laid to rest.

After taking on provisions and armament, the Jervis class cruisers Orwell, Daring, Furious, and Implacable are gently nudged away from the quayside by a flock of little harbour tugs with their commanding officer, Sub-Admiral Konstantin Riasanovsky, absent from the bridge of his flagship Furious. It was, after all, only a few minutes before that he was discovered in one of Kingston's innumerable Opium Dens. The four cruisers pass under the guns of the archaic Kingston Fortress, also know as the Devil's Boil for its extremely unsanitary conditions, and meet the destroyer division, as well as a small motor launch bearing the Admiral, at the mouth of Kingston Inlet.

Government House

The Gull Flaggers' response to Mpana's communique is recieved very well by the assembled Cabinet, and convinces the government to push for a drastically increased military aid quota in Parliament. Public support for Robotstani involvement with Iansisle also jumps, and for the first time ever, the government can claim more support than opposition for its relationship with the Gull Flag Republic. Even fear of Valinor reprisals take a temporary backseat to brotherly feelings. The Gull Flag itself is flown with the Parliamentary Battle Standard (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/9/97/Koruflag.jpg).

((I figure my 8,000th post should have a little substance to it ;) ))

Lyone Naval Base

Rear Admiral Nick Singer stood on the deck of the LSS Arcadia and sniffed in a long draw of sea air. The morning sun hung low in the sky as Singer brushed the salt and pepper hair out of his eyes and looked out over the group of ships assembling in the harbor.

There’s something big going down, he thought as an aide walked up and handed him a mug of coffee. We haven’t pulled together the whole fleet in quite a while.

He had been briefed before leaving Golden Agate. The execution of Callahan, the military movements from a handful of friendly and not-so-friendly nations and the diplomatic channels buzzing was enough to concern the Larkinian government. He had flipped through the dossier before locking it in the officer’s safe, and the number of ships moving into the region must have also set off some alarms. Plus, the Military Council had ordered the Sixth Sub detachment to run with them. Exactly how much of a shooting war was Singer getting into?

Start maneuvers. Try and keep this from turning into a shooting war. Let the Gull Flag Republic know of our dissatisfaction of the killing, he’d been told by the Council.

Singer heard a clang from the starboard side of the ship. He walked over to the barrier and looked over the side. One of the aerodynes was being loaded into the side launchers, and had hit the ship a little too hard.

“Hey! Watch it down there,” he shouted. He hadn’t even left the harbor yet and his ship was getting banged up.

“Sorry sir!”

He chuckled and looked back towards the vast expanse of the ocean, what he could see in between ships, as he listened to a group of soldiers as they walked past him.

"Man! I never thought we'd get to use this gear!" one said.

"Well, let's hope things don't go too bad out there. You never know what we're going to run into," one of the junior officers replied.

You don't know the half of it, Singer thought.

-----

Several Hours Later

The Ninth Fleet, now fully assembled, received the order. It was time to go.

Singer looked out of the bridge to the beckoning ocean and the expanse of ships at his command.

“Let’s move it out. And try not to shoot each other out there.”

Palais du Parlement, New Rome

"The question is that the motion be put..." began the Speaker of the Imperial Parliament. "That this house condemns the judicial murder of His Majesty King James I of Iansisle, sometime High King James III of the Shield, extends its deepest sympathies to the Iansislean Royal Family, especially to His Majesty's heir, Her Majesty Queen Jessica of Iansisle, also rightfully High Queen Jessica II of the Shield. The Right Honourable the Imperial Chancellor?"

"I move the motion, my Lord Speaker." said Pierre Conomos, rising from his seat at the head of the government benches, bowing to the chair. He then resumed his seat gingerly - he was rather frail these days and the cold marble of the Parliament's benches did not necessarily make for the most comfortable of seating.

"The Leader of the Opposition?" the Speaker said, looking to Sir Spiro Phocas, the leader of the United Christian Front.

"I second the motion, my Lord Speaker." Sir Spiro replied, bowing to the chair in turn.

"Are there any speakers against?" asked the Speaker. Nobody rose to speak against the motion of condolence. "All in favour?"

There was a unanimous "aye" from the chamber.

"Against?" the Speaker asked. There was silence. "I think the ayes have it, the motion has been carried. The Honourable the Minister for Foreign Affairs?"

"Thankyou, my Lord Speaker." began Louis Maîtres as he rose to speak. "I speak to introduce an emergency bill on behalf of the Imperial Government. I apologise to you, my Lord Speaker, and to honourable members, that it was omitted from the Government's legislative agenda for the session, but we had hoped it wouldn't be necessary. The bill is entitled: 'An Act Imposing Punitive Tariffs on Imports from rebel-occupied Iansisle', or 'The Iansislean Tariff Act'..."

Aboard INV Irbe, West of Unsterbank Shoals…

“Radar contact off the port stern,” Senior Technician Tom Rainis spoke without looking away from scope. “Range 30 kilometers.”

Lieutenant Phillip Coombs looked over the rating’s shoulder, then across the bridge to the CO. “Could be an Iansislean destroyer, Captain.”

Commander Jekob Bergmanis nodded. “Holy Empire must have miscalculated their position, Mr. Coombs. Radio them and let them know. We should see if we can get confirmation from the air patrols.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Coombs replied, turning to pick up the comm to call the radio room.

Bergmanis looked down the charts on the navigator’s table. The squadron tactical officer had estimated that destroyers would be further west; they had been hoping to spot the cruiser squadron that was expected to be steaming south from Cape MacMillan.

After several tense minutes, the comm buzzed and the executive officer picked it up. He turned to the captain. “Air patrols have spotted the ship and confirm a lone destroyer.”

“Continue along present heading,” Bergmanis said calmly. “Let’s see what they do.”

“Aye, sir,” Coombs replied.

The minutes passed quietly until Rainis spoke from the radar station. “Sir, contact altering course and speed. Moving towards us.”

“They’ve spotted us,” Coombs said.

The captain nodded to the XO and walked to the hatch opening to the portside bridge wing. A rating lowered his binoculars and snapped to attention. “Smoke coming over the horizon, sir,” the rating said.

The CO nodded and lifted his own glasses. He sighted the destroyer. “Red ensign. Definitely Iansislean. And she’s making for us alright.” Bergmanis lowered his glasses and turned back to the hatch.

“Captain,” Coombs said as the CO entered the bridge, “message from Holy Empire. She instructs to slow and establish a trailing position to the rear of the battlewagons. Bulvitis will close on our position and remain with us. The rest of the destroyers will continue towards Cape MacMillan and search for cruiser squadron. The battlewagons and carriers are adjusting course to the East and increasing speed; they intend to slip between us and the rest of the destroyers.”

Bergmanis nodded. “Very well. Carry out our orders, Mr. Coombs.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Coombs said, turning to the helmsman.

“Sir,” a chief called from bridge wing hatch, “fire from the Iansislean destroyer. It looks like her crew is manning the rails.”

“Rendering honours? That’s awfully proper for wild-eyed revolutionaries, sir.” Coombs gave a faint impression of a wry smile.

“The navy is usually the last institution to be corrupted in a revolution, Mr. Coombs,” the captain said dryly. “Let’s pay our respects. Hoist the Iansislean flag, order the men to the rails and fire our own salute. Quickly, before they get too close.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Within moments, the Iansislean flag was flying beside the Excalbian flag. The destroyer’s two five inch guns began firing a salute. Ratings lined the rails on the main deck while the captain and executive officer stood on the bridge wing. The crew came to attention and saluted as the Iansilsean ship passed.

OOC Notes on Excalbian missiles: Since I’m RPing this as if it happened in the 1950s relative to Excalbia, our missiles are not all that advanced. We employ two classes of anti-ship missiles. The Puffin has a range of 15 miles, travelers at over 600 mph, weighs 850 lbs and delivers a 260 lbs warhead. It is a “fire and forget” weapon with active radar homing. The Osprey has a range of 25 miles, travels at about 600 mph, weighs 1700 lbs and delivers a 400 lbs warhead. It has active radar guidance, but is capable of mid-course correction through radio command.

((ah, good ol’ Arcadia. I sometimes wonder if there are any other ships in the Larkinian Navy =P))

Tramd, Weshield

This little town at the conflux of the Rivers Mans and Dalen did not really feel like the rest of Weshield. Here was the border between the southern Shield and the northern; here was the most pivotal battleground in the war for the marble halls of Jameston.

In the last election, Tramd had been contested by three contestants: a moderate Gull Flagger named Zachary Thomas, a reactionary royalist who claimed to be the Earl of Tramd, and the revolutionary Grand Streeter, Matt Sundun, who now stood atop a wooden grandstand. That election had been won -- narrowly -- by Thomas over the Earl, with Sundun trailing a distant third. The vote for the premiership had gone to the Baron Desitian, narrowly over Charles Bradsworth, with Lawrence Madders winning a scant three per cent of the vote.

However, with the royalists now barred from entering Jameston Place or running in an election without denouncing the King and swearing an oath of eternal loyalty to the republic -- as well as their inability to use whatever archaic titles may have identified them to the general public -- the Grand Streeters were starting to think that inroads could be made against the Gull Flaggers in this border town. And, if Tramd were to fall to the Grand Streeters, they might even have a chance of penetrating the staunchly royalist far north.

So Matt Sundun found himself recipient of the most ludicrous amount of help from Lawrence Madders and his lieutenants (there were, of course, no political parties on the Shield after the Revolution). He had coaches, speechwriters, a team of researchers digging up mud on Zach Thomas. He had a decent flow of generals -- good metal ones minted before the Revolution, dug up from God knows where -- with which to purchase loyalties and, if needed, votes. He had access to the War Department’s secret reports, stuff that a backbencher like Thomas would never see. He had everything a politician could possible want, and more: he had the added pressure of knowing that, if Grand Street didn’t carry Tramd, he’d have to answer to Lawrence Madders for that failure.

“Fellow citizens!” he shouted suddenly, quieting the crowd with his booming voice. “I stand before you now, before the most important election in the history of the Shield! We stand now at a crossroads of history: on one side is hope and glory! On the other is despair, a people enslaved!

“My esteemed colleague Mr Thomas has been sitting flat in his bench in Ianapalis, oblivious to the sweeping terror that threatens to overtake him. He is complacent and unaware of the fact that Iansisle is now surrounded! Foreign powers bear down on us from every angle, seeking to undermine our liberties and our Republic! Already an Excalbian fleet hunts at will in the Western Marches, but Mr Thomas is content to let them have their way in our sea! And now Larkinia is shipping its infernal machines of war out with the intention of crushing the Iansislean people -- still Mr Thomas does nothing! He even voted against the bill to give the Army of the Jaizar their just dues!

“I have here a letter from a man claiming to be the ‘Tsar’ of Magnus Valerius. He states, in plain writing, that he will starve the Shield and crush our military. His cossacks will sweep through the Shield, raping and pillaging, and what does Mr Thomas do? Vote against a proposed peace treaty with Effit. Now, I may not be a military man, ladies and gentlemen, but when a dictator threatens me with invasion, I would think it wise to close up the second front.

“Friends, Iansisle will soon be fighting for its life against the entire world. Do not put your head in the sand like Mr Thomas: we can fight, we will fight, and we will win in the name of the revolutionary republic!”

---

Pearsdon did not let his crew see that he was relieved at the return of the salute; at least the Excalbians did not yet have active hostility on their mind.

“Helmsman, full right rudder,” he ordered himself after the two ships passed. The Foray came smartly about, heeling over deeply. Pearsdon waited until his ship was on a parallel course to the Irbe, about a thousand yards clear of her, then ordered rudder amidships and a speed reduction to match. Foray was outgunned, five-inch guns to her three-inch, but Pearsdon did not think that it would come to a shooting match and, even if it did, the five 21” torpedoes Foray carried in her starboard broadside would have something to say about it.

“Watch those radranger contacts,” he ordered the rating at the console. “Let me know of any change in their course.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

---

GFS Active
Off Cape MacMillan

The weather was somewhat rougher off the Skull, where two cruiser squadrons -- the Fifth Heavy and the Second Light -- waited on news from the Aquatic and her flotilla. The Fifth Heavy Cruiser Squadron had been reinforced with the addition of two Robotistani cruisers, bringing the total to nine cruisers. The Shieldians had been somewhat disparaging of the Robots when they first arrived -- two cruisers did not seem like much of a force to send to a Navy which boasted fifty-four on active duty -- but the hard work ethics of the Robots and their seemingly-flippant competence had won the admiration of many officers, chief among them Rear Admiral of the White James Redford.

Redford patrolled the cramped flag bridge aboard Active (the Europa-class cruisers, for all their other advantages, left much to be desired as flagships) and waited for news from the Tenth. His ships and their screen of sloops were making bare steerage way in the heavy swells. Suddenly, his flag lieutenant approached.

“Sir, message from the Admiralty.”

“Give it here,” said Redford, quickly snatching the hardcopy. He read it aloud. “‘Aquatic reports contact with Excalbian fleet near Unsterbank. Battlecruiser Fleet has set sail, will arrive in Skull estimated 14:20 Shieldian Standard. You are requested and required to join company with Battlecruiser Fleet; Vice Admiral Jones will give further instructions. Remember that a shooting war is not to be provoked with Excalbia, but neither should the presence of a battlefleet in the Marches be tolerated. Home Fleet is on short notice for steam to support if needed.’

“Quite the orders,” he remarked.

“Indeed they are, sir,” said the flag lieutenant.

“I’ve always fancied sailing with Admiral Jones,” said Redford.

“He’s a Salvador survivor, isn’t he, sir?”

“Yes, he is. Him and ol’ fighting John Northrupt are the only two left in the fleet, so far as I know.”

The flag lieutenant stood in silent awe. The Battle of Salvador, in which the Navy had willingly sacrificed nearly 3,000 of its men to ensure the disembarkation of the troop convoy which it was sworn to protect, was one of the myths of the Iansislean Navy. In it, Beth Gellen missiles had obliterated the predreadnought King James, two heavy cruisers, and two destroyers of Iansisle’s advance fleet under Admiral Gurney. Only the light cruiser Odysseus, J. Northrupt commanding, had managed to escape and rejoin Admiral Kennington’s Grand Fleet north of the island of Victoria. Ken Jones, first lieutenant of the King James, had been pulled from the burning wreckage of the battleship and subjected to several years’ imprisonment in Igovian Beth Gellert. Now almost fifty years distant, Salvador was still considered the coming-of-age moment for the Iansislean Navy, when it learned that the tactics tried and true in Tri’s Navy no longer worked.

“It will be a pleasure indeed,” said Redford to himself as he settled in to wait for the arrival of the Battlecruiser Fleet.

---

The response to the Pantocratorian embargo was swift and quite predictable. Those people owning a Peacock automobile suddenly found replacement parts prohibitively expensive and those people engaged in the export of teak and pepper found a sudden decrease in their markets. It was another blow to the reeling Shieldian economy, but not a particularly earth-shattering one. The men of Jameston Place, of course, made long speeches condemning “the foul mountebanks of New Rome” and an official protest was lodged with the Chancellor, but Ianapalis had enough potential enemies at present.

The response to Tsar Alexander was somewhat less diplomatic. Magnus Valerius was told, in essence, that it was welcome to gorge itself on all the grain it wanted, as that would only make its people fatter and less able to counter the agile Shieldians. Furthermore, they were instructed that any attempt in military intervention would provoke a defeat so sharp that internal revolution was almost guaranteed. They were also welcomed to keep their oversized noses clear of Shieldian business.

A simple communiqué was sent to Larkinia reminding the Principality of Iansislean territorial maritime claims but offering assistance in any naval exercises should it be needed.

The movement of Walmington’s Gallagan Fleet -- something most officers in Iansisle Gallaga Fleet thought they’d never see -- was greeted with cautious optimism. The Walmies, if royalist, were at least no openly hostile, and the ships were not seen as a threat anyway. An Iansislean light cruiser with the Gallaga Fleet even cheered the ancient Royal Oak on as their paths crossed in the southern Bay of Bengal.

((erm...hope the cat was put out. >.>

And now, for my random pleasure, a rough guide to the ‘level of diplomacy’ which can be expected in these letters:

Ianapalis’ opinion of:

Golden Agate: Frightened but optimistic. Jeff Williams is unpredictable, but he’s a lame duck now.
New Rome: Aggressive but not belligerent. Economic sanctions hurt, but the lack of a military presence in the North Pacific leads Ianapalis to think that things can be smoothed over.
Great Walmington: Cautiously friendly. Dimly aware that the Walmies need us more than we need them, but not willing to trust too much to friendship.
Isangrad: Belligerent. The threat of military intervention and the stopping of grain shipments, along with the belief that the Navy can easily defend against any attempted landings, leads to a certain level of arrogance and anger.
Citadel Excalbia: Aggressive, if less so than towards Magnus Valerius. The Navy is uncertain it can defeat Excalbian forces should push come to shove.
Kingston: Fraternal love. The Robots are widely regarded as the Republic’s only ‘true’ ally.

Lastly, sorry this post was so rushed in the last, most important part. It got late quickly. =/))

((ah, good ol’ Arcadia. I sometimes wonder if there are any other ships in the Larkinian Navy =P))

A simple communiqué was sent to Larkinia reminding the Principality of Iansislean territorial maritime claims but offering assistance in any naval exercises should it be needed.
*snip*

Ianapalis’ opinion of:

Golden Agate: Frightened but optimistic. Jeff Williams is unpredictable, but he’s a lame duck now.


((LOL, smart a-- ;) Although I do need to update the fleet a bit. And Jeff Williams, unpredictable? Surely you jest. ))

Department of Diplomacy, Golden Agate Federal Sector

President-elect Takeo Katana (I-man, can't you see the next few elections being a back and forth between Jeff and Takeo) was visiting the department as the communiqué came over.

He skimmed it, and with a wry grin asked the following message be sent.

Understand your concerns. Our fleet will respect Iansislian territorial claims.
We understand there have been threats made to your nation and are willing to do what is necessary to maintain the peace on all sides and hope that this ensures that the Gull Republic keeps her independence.

Sincerely,
Takeo Katana
Preisdent-Elect.

((LOL, smart a-- ;) Although I do need to update the fleet a bit. And Jeff Williams, unpredictable? Surely you jest. ))

(( =P

There were a few other choice words I was considering to follow 'Jeff Williams is...' but the Assembly decided to err on the side of caution.

And yeah, I could see Takeo and Jeff trading the position back and forth, taking turns being presidend / vicepresident. I know which of the two most Shieldians consider the more mentally stable, though =). Speaking of which, I'm trying to remember the name of the first president of Larkinia, waaaay back in the day. I remember Takeo organized the Golden Agate DNC and Jeff Williams skippered a submarine back then, but that's about it.

Those were good times. I still get a tear in my eye when I remember the ol' Developing Nations Conference crowd. And, speaking of nostalgia, here's a good link for old time's sake (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/archive/index.php/t-318693.html).))

Department of Diplomacy, Golden Agate Federal Sector

President-elect Takeo Katana was visiting the department as the communiqué came over.

He skimmed it, and with a wry grin asked the following message be sent.

Understand your concerns. Our fleet will respect Iansislian territorial claims.
We understand there have been threats made to your nation and are willing to do what is necessary to maintain the peace on all sides and hope that this ensures that the Gull Republic keeps her independence.

Sincerely,
Takeo Katana
Preisdent-Elect.


President-Elect Katana,

The Gull Flag Republic thanks you for your words of solidarity. These days, threats to our nation's sovergnity and democracy seem to come from every quarter; it is good to hear that Golden Agate is still a friend of Iansisle.

We thank you for your assurances and wish your Navy the best of luck on its exercises, if it can find enough sea room to spare in the Western Marches, crowded as they are with imperial forces nowadays!

Long live the Republic!

Ben Rinehart
Premier Interim

((It is time that I rise him from his slumber... ))

Department of Diplomacy

"Yes sir. Right away sir," the aide said into the phone speaker before hanging up. He'd recieved new orders for the Iansislian Embassy. Ambassador Jackson was being recalled and reassigned to duty in Imitora.

The aide chuckled, between the parties and the road racing, Imitora was one of the choice assignments for an Ambassador. But the other reason he was amused was the new Ambassador to Iansisle.

One final joke before President Williams leaves office? he thought as he dialed the phone. He wasn't sure.

"Hello", a sleepy voice on the other end of the line said.

3 p.m. Yes, it was still early for him to be awake yet.

"Sir," the aide said. "President Williams has requested your service to Larkinia. He is in need of an Ambassador to Iansisle, and has picked you to full that position."

Silence filled the other end of the line.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes sir. Please report to the Department of Diplomacy tomorrow morning," the aide said before hanging up the phone.

(You know him, you love him, you've got to have him!)

-----

Javin Katana looked down at the phone in his hand before turning it off.

Wha??

Port City of Trentino
The Day After Alexander III's Message

The port city of Trentino lied on the southern coast of King William's Sea, at the mouth of the mighty River Vedus downstream from Isangrad. This large port city of around 6 million souls was Isangrad's gateway to the seas. It was the supreme industrial and shipping hub on the southern coast of King William's Sea. Countless steel mills and manufacturies belched soot into the air on the northern end of the city. In this industrial sector was the main shipbuilding center for Magnus Valerius. Production orders delivered from the Minister of War called for the construction of more warships, and the city's drydocks thus shifted from making fishing trawlers and commercial ships to cruisers and battleships.

Even before the advent of possible military action, the Trentino Shipyards were at work constructing a new aircraft carrier for the Imperial Navy, the HMS Shorehaven. As of now, it is around 95% completed. It may be commissioned within a couple of weeks or less. The aircraft carrier is massive, with a displacement of 90,000 tons and capable of carrying up to 85 aircraft. It would be the fourth aircraft carrier to enter the Valerian Imperial Fleet. The other three carriers are the HMS Caesar Augustus, which is geared up for action in Iansisle, the HMS Sankt Valerian, currently undergoing maintenance in Kydonia, and the HMS George I, currently patrolling the waters at the mouth of King William's Sea. These aircraft carriers are quite a feat. Way, way back in the reign of Alexander I, such aircraft carriers were never dreamed of, and the mightiest vessels the Imperial Navy had were the dreadnoughts.

The HMS Caesar Augustus, a gigantic carrier based off of the old Japanese Shokaku (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_aircraft_carrier_Shokaku), lies silently in the harbor. The crew was making preperations to leave with the rest of the hastily assembled "Gull Flag Expeditionary Fleet". Admiral Pavel Kholmogorisky, assigned to command this fleet, was on the docks, observing the preperations being made before the sail towards the Gull Flag Republic. With him is Minister of War Phillip Balmarik, who is making sure that the rifles for the 20,000 men are of Valerian standard: Bartleby 7mm magnum bolt-action rifles (the Bartleby Kingsford Mk. IV). Bartleby Arms, Inc. has manufactured arms for the Imperial Arsenal for over a century, and the Kingsford Mk. IV has been in use for a couple of decades. It does have the tendency to malfunction in heavy rain, snow, and sand, but it still passes for use in the Valerian military.

Balmarik and Kholmogorisky wandered over to a coffee shop on the docks to drink a cup of fine Kydonian coffee to discuss plans of action.

"Where should we strike?" said Kholmogorisky, straightforwardly.

Balmarik sipped his coffee and savored it for a moment before replying, "From the map of Iansisle that I studied, the Western Marches is a good location to send the fleet. There, you can soften up the shore of Sentry Island to make for a more pleasant landing for our troops. If your fleet is outgunned, then a retreat south shouldn't be far-fetched. We have more ships to send as well, so I could always bolster the fleet if you are in a pinch."

Kholmogorisky nodded before finishing his cup of coffee. A waitress brought over some pastries for the two officials. She returned to her business, and at that very moment, a whistle blew off in the distance. The first military train, filled with soldiers, was pulling into station.

Trentino Central Station

A steam locomotive pulled into station. It bore several flags of Magnus Valerius, which adorned the military cars. The rail cars rumbled as soldiers, ready for service, got ready to leave the train. The doors of the cars swung open, and out came dozens of soldiers. This first batch of soldiers was from Sankt Valerian, to the southwest of Trentino. The commander of the "Royalist Expeditionary Force", General Nikolai Kuropatkin, hopped out of the first car of the train. At the young age of 36, Nikolai has never seen battle, but through his training and studying, he is confident in his abilities. A native of Port Persepol, Nikolai was born into poverty and joined the military, where he was noted for his capabilities as a leader. After hard work in the Imperial Military Academy outside of Sankt Valerian, he made it into the respected (and well-paying) officer corps.

Coming out from the fifth car on the train was another fresh face. Vladimir Petrovich, a young recruit, was excited to finally go out and fight. He was 20 years old, a native of Iseledhovan, a small village of around 1,500 people out in East Valeria. His father was a cossack for the Valerian military, and he was proud to follow in the legacy of his father and his three older brothers, who were serving as pilots and mechanics for the Imperial Air Force. Today was the first time he has ever seen the shoreline, and the second time he has set foot in a large metropolis. The eager recruit grasped his Kingsford Mk. IV as if it were his life, as if he were born with it in his hands. Vladimir often spent his childhood out on hunting trips with his father, and now he is about to put that skill to the test out in battle.

The 1,000 soldiers emptied the train in quick fashion before the whistle blew again. The steam locomotive chugged off into the horizon to the northeast. The sound of four other whistles blew in the distance. More trains were coming. The docks will soon be teeming with soldiers from all parts of the empire.

Off in the Ocean, Somewhere near Iansisle

Out in the middle of the ocean, far from Valerian shores, a shipping vessel sailed along. The SS Good Fortune, a small unarmed ship, was on course for Iansisle. At the helm of the ship was Ardashir Ergil, a Tabrizian. A faithful Zoroastrian, Ardashir left his home in Tabriz for adventure on the high seas. He wanted to breathe in the salty air of the seas, to embrace the ocean as it had embraced his deceased wife when she fell overboard one fateful day. Yet, things were not as exciting as Ardashir had envisioned. He dreamed of pirates, adventure, and gold, but now, he is stuck with shipping bananas. Yes, bananas. Occassionally, pirates would board the ship, but once they find out the cargo is nothing but a few tons of tropical fruit, they leave without incident, often remarking, "Wrong ship."

Today, he was en route to Ianapalis. He was making his first trip to this city, and he heard stories of an impressive metropolis. Whether or not such stories were exaggerated, he was looking forward to stepping ashore on new territory. Bananas, fresh from Kydonia and preserved in the ship's refrigeration holds, were going for good prices, so Ardashir heard, and he wanted to make a good profit. However, his hopes were dashed when a communique from Magnus Valerius radioed in.

*static*...All freighters destined for the Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle are to turn around and head towards the Valerian Colony of Shorehaven. All violaters will be persecuted at the full extent of the Magnus Valerian Admiralty...

"Shorehaven? Are they kidding? Do I have to turn around after coming all this way and head back to home waters?"

Ardashir paused for a moment, thinking about the risks of disobeying the orders. He was so close to Iansisle that Valerian officials would never be able to reach him. However, the call for turning back may allude to probable conflict between the Republic and the Empire; not to mention that if he were to return from Iansisle, he would likely be arrested. If he makes it to Iansisle, he would be face with uncertainty. If he turned back, he would lose a huge profitable opportunity.

Ardashir decided to let the money do the talking, and he went full speed ahead towards Iansisle. Within a few hours, he could be passing into Troobodia Bay.

OOC: Sorry for the rushed post. It's late and I'm sleepy.

Skyhawk One, West of Cape MacMillan

The Seahawk had originally been designed as a carrier-based fighter-bomber during the Second World War. The advent of carrier-based jet fighters and the deployment of air-launched Puffin anti-ship missiles had made her largely obsolete by the mid-fifties. However, she was a too sturdy and reliable to be scrapped. So, the Imperial Navy had crammed the remaining Seahawks with the most advanced radar and electronics the Empire could produce – and that her airframe would support. The newly designated EP (electronic picket) 3A had quickly become the eyes and ears of the Fleet.

Lieutenant JG Trevor Cooke nudged his aging Seahawk forward, towards Cape MacMillan. Instinctively he did a visual scan of the sea and air around him, but saw nothing. Behind him, however, he heard a satisfied grunt from his radar operator.

"Do you have something, Chief?" Cooke asked anxiously.

"Aye, skipper," Chief Ernest Pakalns said with a grin. "Ninety-five klicks east-northeast, right off the Skull. I make out at least five contacts."

"Can you make their heading and speed?"

"They seem to be holding station…"

"Waiting more ships, most likely…"

While the Seahawk's radar was advanced for its day, it was not without limits, so standard procedures called for at least an attempt at visual verification of contacts when practical. However, the prop-driven Seahawk was too slow and too expensive to risk on such missions in the missile age. For just this reason, Seahawks usually flew with picket missions with fighters in range.

"Rover flight, Skyhawk One. Over." Cooke said.

"Skyhawk One, Rover Leader. What can we do for you? Over." Came the crackly reply.

"Rover Leader, Skyhawk One. We have multiple contacts ninety-five kilometers east-northeast of our position. Request visual confirmation. Over."

"Roger, Skyhawk One. We'll see what we can do. Rover Leader out."

Dozens of kilometers away two small fighter jets streaked towards the Skull.

Aboard INV Holy Empire, West of Unsterbank Shoals…

"Admiral on the bridge," a blue helmeted marine said, coming to attention next to the hatch. Around the bridge officers and men momentarily came to attention until the admiral waved them back to their duties.

CAPT Harry Olofsson walked towards the admiral and snapped to attention. "Orders, my Lord?"

VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen gave his head an almost imperceptible shake. "No, Captain, I just wanted to take a look around."

The Captain nodded. "Please, my Lord," he said gesturing around the battleship's rather spacious bridge.

"Thank you," Sorensen said. Followed by his intelligence officer, the admiral walked over to the navigation table.

At that moment, the comm buzzed and the officer of the watch picked it up. He nodded excitedly, then turned towards the captain and admiral with the handset still next to ear. "My Lord. Sir, comm reports a sighting of the Iansislean cruiser squadron still off the Skull. Radar confirmed five hits, fighter observation reports sighting six hull and smoke from as many as five more ships; a mix of light and heavy cruisers. We also have a probable position on the Iansislean destroyer flotilla."

Sorensen nodded to his intelligence officer, then looked to the young ensign with the comm. "Tell them they can give the details to Commander Brooks."

"Aye, sir," the ensign said. He repeated the admiral's message to the comm before turning the handset over to LCDR Brooks.

Stretching the handset to the navigation table, Brooks bent over the chart and began marking with a grease pencil. When he finished he hung up the handset and looked up at the admiral. "Looks like we have the destroyer here," he pointed to the chart, "and probably two cruiser squadrons off Cape MacMillan. The cruisers are waiting for something – probably capital ships or another cruiser squadron."

Sorensen nodded and looked down at the chart. "Radio Irbe. I want them to start nudging their course towards the destroyers. Advance the rest of the destroyer towards Cape MacMillan; I'd like surface radar tracking of those cruisers. Meanwhile, let's keep up the airborne surveillance; I want to know the moment those ships start moving towards us."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Aboard INV Irbe…

Lieutenant Phillip Coombs watched the Iansislean destroyer take up a parallel position, matching Irbe's course and speed, about 900 kilometers off the port. He certainly was not comfortable having a potentially hostile warship that close to his ship. However, with Bulvitis now trailing half a kilometer off Irbe's port stern, he knew the Iansislean destroyer was hopelessly overmatched.

That would change soon enough, the XO thought gloomily. Holy Empire had ordered Irbe and Bulvitis to steam towards the remainder of the Iansislean destroyer flotilla. Despite having Puffins and a few Ospreys, the Iansisleans would soon have a decisive advantage in numbers. And Bulvitis carried no missiles; she had only her three five inch gun turrets.

Coombs picked up his binoculars and looked over at the Iansislean destroyer wondering what her officers thought about the situation.

About 1,700 Kilometers East of Grand Kingston

Riasanovsky's newly-christened Gull Flag Relief Force makes a respectable twenty knots across the North Pacific, aided by relatively calm seas and favorable weather. Idlers on all the twelve ships in the force turn up abovedecks and take full advantage of the unusually sunny weather, sitting on turret tops without even a sweater on. Aboard the Furious, the Admiral himself is, for the most part, back to his usual self, as eccentric as that may be, and is present in the radio room when the Admiralty's latest bulletin comes through. Riasanovsky reads it out loud:

"War imminent between Magnus Valerius and Gull Flag Republic. Make for Iansisle at all possible speed. We have our orders, then. Pass the word, increase speed to 25 knots."

The Furious's turbines begin to churn at a quicker rate, and the order to increase speed is flashed to the rest of the formation. Prospects of becoming involved in real fighting, formerly regarded as slim, are now on everybody's mind and Shackletons are dispatched to cover the force's trip.

Off Cape MacMillan

"Air contact, sah! 46 miles southwest of our position, bearing northeast at 250 miles an hour."

The air warning radar aboard the Kuwait, one of the two Arabia class light cruisers sailing with Admiral Redford's cruiser squadron, detects the cruising Seahawk at nearly the edge of its range. The Kingston E Air Warning Radio Detector might be a reliable radar set, but it is hardly cutting-edge, with its rather pedestrian range and low power. It is almost a miracle that it saw the Seahawk at all.

"Seems like a patrol plane to me, eh leftenant?"

"Hmph...more likely than not. Pass the word to the rest of the squadron. They've probably detected us."

"Aye, leftenant."

News of the radranger contact (the Navy being inclined to use the Iansislean euphemism for radar) is flashed to the rest of the cruisers, on the off chance that they hadn't already spotted the Excaliban flyer. Several rates appear on the deck and remove the SeaCat launcher's protective cover while the Bofors pom-poms are manned.

Already an Excalbian fleet hunts at will in the Western Marches, but Mr Thomas is content to let them have their way in our sea! And now Larkinia is shipping its infernal machines of war out with the intention of crushing the Iansislean people -- still Mr Thomas does nothing! He even voted against the bill to give the Army of the Jaizar their just dues!

“I have here a letter from a man claiming to be the ‘Tsar’ of Magnus Valerius. He states, in plain writing, that he will starve the Shield and crush our military. His cossacks will sweep through the Shield, raping and pillaging, and what does Mr Thomas do? Vote against a proposed peace treaty with Effit. Now, I may not be a military man, ladies and gentlemen, but when a dictator threatens me with invasion, I would think it wise to close up the second front.

“Friends, Iansisle will soon be fighting for its life against the entire world. Do not put your head in the sand like Mr Thomas: we can fight, we will fight, and we will win in the name of the revolutionary republic!”
At least I'm not doing anything...

And now, for my random pleasure, a rough guide to the ‘level of diplomacy’ which can be expected in these letters:
Yay! No letters to Imitora!

OOC:

In geographical terms, Magnus Valerius and its home region and sphere of influence, the Kuric and Gedonian Continents, is in the Central Pacific, south of Iansisle. Shorehaven is in the West Pacific. Just for anyone who wants to try and invade. =)

It'll be hard, though. Well, except for Shorehaven, which might be easy pickings for a well-prepared force. Shorehaven may be tempting, since it is a colony that is only partially settled and with ~15 million known people, but the colony's coast is rather marshy or forested and it is much like the Amazon Rainforests beyond the coastline in the central regions of the colony. The northern edge are the settled grasslands and inland are the steppes. New Batavia is the colonial capital (Pop. 330,000) and New Alexandria is the largest city (Pop. 771,000). Fort Phillip III is the largest fortress and garrison, and it is the location of the Colonial Arsenal. The entire southeastern region, hemmed in by Orsonia and Hiromoto, is unsettled (or so the Valerian colonial officials state).

Here's an old map. I'll get an updated one up soon. I'm busy with studying for a Chemistry midterm, but I'll still be around to RP. :)

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/Shorehaven.png

IC:

The Imperial Palace, Isangrad

In Magnus Valerius, it is tradition for an emperor to proclaim decrees and acts in a 'balcony address', where the tsar proclaims to a crowd of citizens and officials his actions. Today was one of those days in Isangrad. The Automobile and Motor Expo, which lasts for several days, was bustling as it was its 2nd day in town. Yet, as such other events were going on, many Valerians gathered in the Tsar's Square, at the Imperial Palace. Something big was going to happen, and the Valerians wanted to know what is going on in the minds of the emperor and his officials.

Tsar Alexander III was busy trimming his beard (a sign of the aristocracy in Magnus Valerius) and readying himself for a speech to the crowd. His servant, Paskeyev, silently came in and offered the tsar a spot of tea. When the emperor finished, Feodor Gagarin gave the tsar his speech and then hurried off to make diplomatic arrangements for what the tsar is about to do.

The tsar, in the military outfit of the Imperial Guards, appeared on the balcony of the third floor of the Imperial Palace. The Imperial Palace was a building of grandeur, five stories tall and made of granite. The palace was built centuries ago under the reign of Emperor George III. Vines creeped up the walls, entangling the ancient stones. The crowd fell silent as the emperor strode before the masses.

"Citizens of Magnus Valerius, I have an important decree that will bring us glory. The Gull Flag Republic has committed an utmost atrocity in the face of the world. The Premier and his cronies of this so-called 'republic' has taken High King James III, rightful ruler of Iansisle, and had him hanged. This king stood for the glory of Iansisle, the Grand Empire of the Shield, and now, he is dead. That is why I want to fight in spirit for King James, fight for his vindication and for the good of The Shield. I am issuing a declaration of war on the Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle. I hereby declare that The Valerian Empire be mobilized and put on full alert for battle on the home front. Do not worry, my people! We will be finished with this war within a month! I assure you of this. We will restore the Callahan Family back to their rightful place in governance of Iansisle, and we will triumph over these horrible party hacks called 'revolutionaries'."

The immediate reaction of the crowd was merely a sense of stupefaction.

"Iansisle? Where's that?"

"What? A war?"

"Woh no, will the economy suffer?"

"Magnus Valerius spent decades to reach developed status and now we might end up returning to 'developing country' status... all because of the Tsar..."

After a few minutes, the people in the crowd shrugged their shoulders and returned to their daily businesses. An empire of 670 million or so people, which just recently has earned "developed" status (and teeters on the brink of developed and developing) might take some injury or may profit from this venture. The Valerians want to play along, just to see what happens. Magnus Valerius never has participated in an extraregional war before, so it is always interesting for the nation to try battling enemies outside the sphere of influence of the Valerian Empire.

Also, the emperor wants to test out the new 'Bumblebees'. The Bumblebee is a simple, flying rocket (the first so-called missile in Magnus Valerius' arsenal) that is for use in military and naval strikes. The emperor plans to use it against Iansisle' fleet as a test. An order for 20 of these flying bombs have been made to put on the HMS Caesar Augustus as a boost to its already high firepower.

The RWN Gallagan Ocean Fleet had put out from Ceyloba at what was considered the higher of two debated cruising speeds: fourteen knots rather than twelve, knowing that substantial support ships happened to be ahead of them for the first leg at least. The Admiral -and governor, he was able to do both jobs for many years since the fleet had nothing to do- had decided to leave in the most impressive manner possible so as to ease fears of those ashore that their loved ones were limping off to capsize a few miles out into the bay.

Unfortunately, by the time they were approaching the Ten Degree Channel, Royal Oak's Westerton Mk.X oil boilers and Shell J47 turbines were committed to a conspiracy of the most wicked noise-making that inspired absolutely no confidence in those aboard, and even frightened the crew of the destroyer Constant when she moved by in a change of formation on approaching the infamous passage. Now the warships progressed at just ten knots, Frazer -in the habit of speaking to his people- saying that this was owing to a lack of need for haste, and to the temporarily dangerous waters. Still, speed would not be increased even as the fleet moved on from the region.

Aboard all seven Walmingtonian war vessels, four and a half thousand officers, men, and marines wondered at the value and aim of their unexpected deployment. Some men weren't even sure whether they were on the side of the Republic, and some of the officers rather hoped that they weren't. But -easy going until a point- Sir James was a willing convert to the Whigs, and as such comfortable with the idea that the Gull Flag might be the future of a vital ally. The fleet ambled along, heading for the North Pacific because Great Walmington considered the Iansislian crown a lost cause with which it would be wrong to side, and was equally sure that a government of Madders' radical types or of foreign puppetry was of absolutely no use to the Whig government, and so, in the event of, "really great trouble" [HRH Edryd Newry, radical royal and 'temporary' chancellor] it seemed proper that there be Walmingtonian ships within something less than a fortnight from the Shield.

Crew confusion was abated mid-voyage by the replaying of Tsar Alexander III's speech and the subsequent address by PM Mainwaring to the ninety-five million subjects (departing New Yorkers -who briefly pushed the total past one hundred million- aside) of the Walmingtonian Empire. The Prime Minister's tone, though he stopped just short of making such a pronouncement this time, was akin to the one he used as head of the Tory party so many years earlier, after the bombing by Asian states of Iansislian outposts, to declare war on the Fascist bloc.

Admiral Sir James Frazer's small fleet clawed its way to the South China Sea, one of its destroyers of the same vintage as the first RWN ship to go down in the Anti-Fascist War, sunk by torpedo strikes in these same waters. Meanwhile, ships based in the Cape Colonies and Madagascar -formerly the bulk of Naval Group III Corps in the Med- began steaming for Ceyloba station, the last Walmy waypoint in the east before the Empire considered imperial rights shifted into the hands of the Ians.

Along with transports taking hundreds of southern African imperial troops to the big Gallagan island, that meant the light aircraft carrier Sparrow, battlecruisers Brixton and Alexandra, light cruisers Brighton and Pelagin, and the destroyers Magical, Quixotic, Stockshire, Southshire, and Hare strung-out across the Gallagan Ocean between southern Africa and Ceyloba, and alerted to the possible hostility of ships and aircraft under the mark of Magnus Valerius.

Back in Walmington, Sir Henry Chaspot Wayne cursed his portly sloth and lamented the unlikely nature of his earlier plans to promote conflict between Frazer's mission and the Republic, and Mainwaring's Whigs asserted Walmington's continued friendship with the Iansislian government as it stood, dispatching filmcrews aboard Acorn transports to over-fly the ships leaving Africa and gather images for inclusion in newsreel at the cinehouses.

(OOC: Incase anybody is unaware and gives a darn, these Walmingtonian ships all date back to the thirties and forties (except the Royal Oak which is a damn sight older), and certainly have no guided missiles. They haven't even guided torpedoes. In fact it's a miracle they have motorised torpedoes, since mariners still refer to teathered torpedoes rather than mines. Amazingly enough, the fire-control radar on most ships is actually not terrible, assuming it has been mainted in several years of serious neglect caused by the disasterous land war in America, but biplanes are still used as scouts and spotters. WoS is a North Atlantic island, and Ceyloba (Sri Lanka) is our colonial outpost closest to the Pacific.)

The Imperial Senate, Citadel Excalbia, 1957

"My Lord Speaker," Senator Richard Cunningham said, standing in front of his seat in dimly lit chamber, "while we share our colleagues' horror and revulsion at the execution of James Callahan, the Social Welfare Party cannot vote in favour of this resolution." Cunningham reached into his blue senatorial robes and pulled out a copy of the resolution condemning the Gull Flag Republic for the execution of its former king. "This," he held up the paper, "is more about condemning the Gull Flag revolution for deposing its tyrannical king and establishing a republic! While we certainly do not find His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, to be anything other than a benevolent and constitutional-minded monarch and unequivocally oppose the idea of a revolution in Excalbia, we are nonetheless sympathetic to the ideals and goals of the Gull Flag revolution and will not condemn it."

There was a smattering of catcalls and boos from the government benches – and even a few from members of other opposition parties. Cunningham took a breath as the Speaker of the Senate gaveled the chamber back into silence. "However, if the government should ever be interested in our proposal to abolish capital punishment in the Empire, then we could certainly reconsider a motion to condemn James Callahan's hanging as a violation of basic human rights…"

Another smattering of boos swept the chamber as Cunningham took his seat. After a few other – uneventful – speeches, the vote was taken and the Senate was nearly unanimous, with the exception of the three Social Welfare senators and a handful of Progressive and New Liberal backbenchers, in approving the resolution condemning Iansisle for the execution of King James.

Following the vote, the floor was opened to new business and a senator from the ruling Excalbia Tradition Party stood and made a motion to boycott Iansislean goods. The chamber erupted in shouts as speakers for and against clamored for attention.

Miller House, Citadel Excalbia

Baron Ainars Skrastins mopped the sweat from his pale, shiny face. "So, now we're sitting in the middle of a bloody war!"

Sir David Butler gave the Imperial Chancellor a look rather like that of a schoolmaster regarding a slowwitted and bumbling student. The Defence Minister shifted his short frame in his chair. "A declaration of war by one party of unproven military capability hardly makes an actual, shooting war, Excellency." The minister turned to the uniformed Chief of the General Staff at his right. "My Lord," he said, prompting the man to speak.

"Excellency," we have confirmed the location of one Iansislean destroyer flotilla and a cruiser force likely composed of two squadrons," Lord Admiral Harry Fanning spoke evenly and calmly. "Vice Admiral Lord Sorensen believes the cruisers are awaiting the arrival of at least one more squadron or, possibly, a force of capital ships. Intelligence believes at least some of the cruisers on the Iansislean side are Robotstani. We believe the Iansisleans know we have spotted their forces and we know they have spotted some of our forces; one of their destroyers is currently pacing our destroyer Irbe. However, there have no hostile movements on either side.

"Oh, and there are also reports of a Walmy naval force on the move."

Sir David gave a slight, dismissive sneer at the mention of the Walmington force. "Unfortunately, Excellency, we have no reliable intelligence on the Magnus Valerius military, but they are not believed to be a great threat to Iansisle."

Baron Ainars hunched forward in his seat and rubbed his hands anxiously. He and his party had little real interest in foreign relations, so he saw – but failed to appreciate – the irony that his first crisis was a foreign one. The Chancellor looked over to his Minister of State. "Lord Walter?"

Lord Walter Williams stroked his chin thoughtfully. "His Imperial Majesty's intention was to gain the republicans' attention. And I believe we have it. Now might be the time to return to diplomacy. Perhaps we can persuade the Gull Flagers to soften their positions, extract a few concessions and proclaim victory…"

Sir David shook his head. "I am not entirely persuaded that His Imperial Majesty will agree…"

"I shall endeavour to persuade him, Sir David," Baron Ainars said snappishly. Then, turning back to Lord Walter, he continued, "At a minimum we should initiate diplomatic discussions to assure the Iansisleans that it is not our current intention to join Magnus Valerius' declaration of war and that our ships are neutral. We should also seek out a contact with Magnus Valerius to impress upon them our neutrality."

"Yes, Excellency," Lord Walter said with a nod. "I shall invite the senior remaining member of the Iansislean diplomatic staff for a conversation and send our first secretary in Ianapolis to deliver a similar message."

(OOC to Iansisle: Would you rather RP your person coming to see the Minister of State or mine going to see someone in your foreign office?
OOC to Magnus Valerius: What would be the best way for us to initiate diplomatic contact with you?)

the Navy being inclined to use the Iansislean euphemism for radar

((soon I’ll have you saying “The aeroknight stabled his mount on the Mobile Aeroflyer Dock”, by George! ;) ))

Yay! No letters to Imitora!

((I’d throw you up on the chart, dearest, but I can’t remember the name of your capital =(.))

While Rinehart, Bankfield, Lynch, Lipse, and them might make up the ‘Inner Circle’, Lawrence Madders and Thomas de Fenne formed a dynamic duo of formidable parliamentary power. Their positions in the War Office and the Foreign Service were easily among the five most powerful in the Constitution of 1953 and their active personalities oft expanded their jobs far beyond the enumerated rôles. While their agendas were quite different -- Madders’ concentrating on the liberation of the Shieldian workingman and de Fenne’s on the decolonization of Gallaga -- nonetheless they saw in one another a kindred spirit of revolution, as opposed to the reform of the bradsworthian Rinehart government.

“Well?” demanded Madders.

“It’s a damned peculiar time to be recalling an ambassador,” said de Fenne, with a Noropian shrug of the shoulders. “This Katana chap --”

“Brother to the President-elect, yes? Not exactly Violeta Bi Bere, is he?” interrupted Madders, rubbing his double chin thoughtfully.

“Yes, brothers. He has a record of a decidedly Imitoran nature: swift to action, slow to reason. Perhaps not one of the more ‘diplomatic’ choices the Larks could have made. In fact, I’d say it’s a calculated insult thrown by Williams before Katana the Elder ushers him out the door.”

“Well,” said Madders, “I would like to refuse to admit him -- persona non grata before he even enters the country. I suspect, however, that for us to refuse Katana the Younger is just what Williams wants. I don’t know the amount of fraternal love existent between the Katana brothers, but I would not want to risk angering the new president when we’ve finally rid ourselves of that maniac Williams.”

“The Foreign Office will accept Katana with full diplomatic honors,” said de Fenne, tossing the Larkinian file to one side. “Which brings us to Magnus Valerius.”

“An elderly bear,” groused Madders, “jumping at anything its dim eyesight perceives as a threat to her cubs.”

“Eloquent as ever, Larry,” said de Fenne, “but what is the War Office prepared to do? Their tsar publicly declared war on us, and frankly my office is out of options.”

“The Valerian Navy,” snorted Madders. “Rusting buckets outnumbered by our Home Fleet alone.”

“They might decide to strike at Gallaga,” said de Fenne, tapping a map of the subcontinent with the knuckle of his middle finger. “We have a battleship out there, but not much else. The Admiral would be restricted to hit-and-run or fleet-in-being tactics, at best.”

“You worry about diplomacy,” said Madders, “and I’ll worry about the military. Who’s next?”

“Excalbia. They’ve finally issued a formal protest and, I believe, still have naval forces in the Western Marches. I’ve even heard rumors that they may follow Pantocractoria’s example and throw up tariffs. If they threw in their lot with the Valerians --”

“They won’t. They wouldn’t dare risk tying themselves to someone like Tsar Alexander -- save Jeff Williams, he’s the most unstable mind in this entire mess.”

“But if they do, that Navy of yours is going to have one hell of a fight on its hands, with or without Robotic help.”

“I’d say there’s a better chance of Williams letting sleeping dogs lie than there is of Excalbia jumping onto a sinking Valerian ship,” said Madders. We’re flexing our muscle at them now -- four battlecruisers. When they know that we have ten ships of the line waiting in the Mansmouth Roads, they won’t dare risk that golden-fish super battleship of theirs.”

“But Larry,” said de Fenne, “Your line-of-battleships currently have no Admiral to command them.”

Madders scowled. “George Rice will be arriving back from the Gallaga Fleet in a week to take command. Until then, Clayburgh’s former assistants will prove more than capable of defeating a horde of Valerians lubbers.

de Fenne drew up a picture of Admiral George Rice in his mind’s eye. A dapper old man, precise in every inch of his image, but hardly a brilliant tactician. He had outlived those ahead of him on the post lists and now, seventy-eight, was beginning to resemble Hunter Neville Kennington far more than Philip Clayburgh. The former Marquess of Westergate may have been arrogant, cold, calculating, aristocratic, and distant, but he was also a supreme leader, tested more than once in the fire of battle, with a distinct flair for mistakeless maneuvering and spotless organization. His sudden arrest on charges of treason had left the Admiralty with few appealing options for the position of Commander, Home Fleet. Men like James Redford were needed in top commands, but Redford’s royalist sympathies ensured that he would never advance under Grand Admiral Hansfield’s administration.

“There’s one last thing about Excalbia,” said de Fenne, perhaps to deflect the direction of the conversation away from military affairs. “They’ve summoned our top official remaining in the embassy and their first secretary in Ianapalis*. I don’t know the exact reason, but I’d be willing to guess that, with their fleet off our shore, they want to negotiate.”

“Does Rinehart know of this?” demanded Madders sharply.

“I haven’t told him yet.”

“Well, don’t. The last thing we need is that bumbling old man selling out and proving to the world that we ourselves have no faith in the revolution or the people’s will. He’s always been too heavily influenced by international opinion.”

“I’ll meet with their minister personally,” said de Fenne. “And our senior advisor still in Excalbia is -- a Captain Ransglen, naval attaché.” He looked up at Madders. “Part of the NIO?”

“At times,” said Madders. “I’ll make sure the captain knows what we want said during his audience.”

((* yes, I know...Grecian scholars may damn me, but ‘Ianapalis’ is spelled with three ‘a’s and no ‘o’s. My apologies to the proper spelling, but three years of RP have rather locked me into the wrong way (rather like ‘Iansisleans’ vrs. ‘Iansislians’). =)

Well, here’s all the diplomatic stuff. I had to refrain from the naval because it’s 5:22 already and, if I were to go off on that, it’d be noon tomorrow before I was ready to post. ^.^ I’ll get all that in asap, though. If there was anything diplomatic that I missed or didn’t reply to fully, poke me and I’ll toss up a proper response. ))

((I’d throw you up on the chart, dearest, but I can’t remember the name of your capital =(.))

Northampton, and would Iansisle even wanna talk to President Thomas "Hoot" Gibbson? Anyways, [/hijack] keep up the good reading, its giving me something to do till I finally get unlazy and read Company.

Message To: Herr Charles Bradsworth of Iansisle
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message RE: The Nature of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government Toward Your Affairs

Herr Bradsworth,

By now it has become clear of the true opinion of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Friedelinde Alderman I, and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government in regards to your self-proclaimed and illegal government in the domains of the Most Honored and Esteemed House Callahan. Her Imperial Majesty, and indeed the entire Congress of Lords, are of one mind and one voice in this regard. The “government” of the so-called Gull Flag Republic is an entity that has seized control of the Shield through an illegal coup against the one true and rightful government of the Shield and its peoples, that of the High King Ian, represented by the Honorable and Competent Regency of the High Queen Jessica II.

It would give no greater satisfaction in Her Imperial Majesty’s and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government’s sense of justice to see all those responsible for the actions of this coup and the cold, calculated murder of His Royal Majesty, the High King James, tried and summarily put before the ultimate justice of the firing squad. However, Her Imperial Majesty is both wise and in her own nature benevolent. You are to be given one chance to renounce the titles acclaimed to yourself by this illegal government and step aside to allow for the return of the one legitimate and true government of the Shield, that of the High King Ian, within three weeks. After doing this you will leave Iansisle forever, Her Imperial Majesty will ensure that this exile is enforced in a way no Shieldean authority ever could. This offer of amnesty also applies to your self-proclaimed and self-trumpeted ministers, excluding the man known as Lawerence Madders. For his crimes against the true state of the Shield and for those against his fellow men, Herr Madders will be tried by a tribunal selected by the Regency to accept the justice of the Shieldean government for his crimes.

This is your one chance at salvation and life, Herr Bradsworth. Reject this offer, benevolent on the part of Her Imperial Majesty beyond belief, and Her Imperial Majesty will commit all the resources of her realm to the cause of having this illegal republic destroyed and see to it that the fathers of this bastard child among nations know the justice that comes when the guns sound the final call of life. There will be no safe haven to be found, no sanctuary to be shouted for in hallowed halls, you will die—with God as our witness.

Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler


____________________



Message To: The Foreign Ministry of the Commonwealth of Robotstan
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message RE: The State of Commonwealth Relations with the Illegal Entity Known as the Gull Flag Republic

While Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government recognize that it is the right of sovereign states in close alliance and cooperation to upon occasion dissent in regards to certain issues, they also both recognize that there is a limit at which point dissenting opinions will cause fraternity between states to crumble and in some cases collapse.

Until recently Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government were willing to consider the state of the Commonwealth’s policy regarding the so-called Gull Flag “Republic” of Iansisle as an inconvenience that could be set aside for the greater good of relations between the Commonwealth and the United Star Empire. However, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government can continue this policy no longer. The gross and vile crime perpetuated by the self-proclaimed leaders of the illegal republic, namely being the cold-blooded murder of His Royal Majesty the High King James, leaves us with no choice. Such an atrocity cannot be tolerated by Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government, nor can apparent complicity and support for these actions be tolerated among our allies.

It is therefore my deepest regret to inform you of Her Imperial Majesty’s and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government’s decision regarding the state of relations between the Commonwealth of Robotstan and United Star Empire of Valinon as they stand at the present. The United Star Empire of Valinon cannot and will not stand for the Commonwealth of Robotstan giving aid—both militarily and politically—to a regime of murderers, warlords, and rebels. If the Commonwealth chooses to pursue this policy, it will do so at the expense of all its relations and agreements with the United Star Empire. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government will act accordingly to reflect this displeasure and distaste in the policies of the United Star Empire.

It also should be noted that if Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government choose to pursue military action against the Gull Flag “Republic” and forces of the Commonwealth are acting in cooperation and support of rogue military forces of the Gull Flag “government” they will be considered to be hostiles and enemies of the United Star Empire operating in complicity with the murderers and warlords of an illegal government and will be treated accordingly.

With respects & apologies,
Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler

____________________



Message To: The Foreign Ministries of the Holy Empire of Excalbia, the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius & Shorehaven, the Holy & Most August Empire of Pantocratoria, & the Principality of Larkinia
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message RE: The United Star Empire’s Policies Regarding the Shield

Friends and Fellows,

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government wish to convey their sympathies and most sincere tidings these increasingly dark and trying times. The United Star Empire of Valinon has watched with horror and disgust as the illegal government of the self-proclaimed Gull Flag Repulbic of the Shield—lead by murderers and warlords like Charles Bradsworth and Lawerence Madders—perpetuated the vile crime of the calculated murder of His Royal Majesty the High King James. This action has made it clear to Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government can no longer idly wait for this regime of criminals to merely self-destruct. The United Star Empire of Valinon must seek recourse in regards to the crisis on the Shield.

Already many of you are no doubt aware that Her Imperial Majesty has granted Her Royal Majesty, the High Queen Jessica, and the surviving members of House Callahan sanctuary in our enclave within the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss. Her Royal Majesty has been forming a government-in-exile, a Regency of His Royal Majesty High King Ian of the Shield, the new-born heir to the hereditary titles and throne of His Most Honored and Venerable House. The United Star Empire of Valinon stands behind Her Royal Majesty—the Queen-Regent—and intends to see to it that she leads His Royal Majesty on a course that will see his kingdom restored.

However, Her Imperial Majesty’s and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government’s hands are tied in regards to actively moving against the criminals of the Bradsworth regime. The United Star Empire of Valinon finds itself fighting a war for its continued safety and security in the Raumreich Oversector against the Ortagan Hegemony, a corrupt and ruthless regime that echoes with the tones of the Bradsworth regime. Over a century and a half ago, Channing Ansel—who now styles himself Hegemon and First Citizen of New Ortaga—launched a revolution that saw the fall of the Ortagan monarchy, and the death of all those who did not escape. Since then the so-called government of the Revolution has become a bloated authority that wields vast military power as a hammer against the other, civilized, powers of the Raumreich. We are facing a grave and trying time of our own, and we find our resources constrained to the point that we must—shamefully—admit that we cannot aid the Queen-Regent as we would like to.

However, it is clear to Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government that the United Star Empire and the true government of the Shield are not without friends and allies. The United Star Empire wishes to put the members of this coalition against the Bradsworth government in contact with the Queen-Regent and His Royal Majesty’s Government, and also to offer both logistic, financial, and strategic support to those that wish to bring to an end the atrocities of the Gull Flag “Republic”. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government feel that together we will vanquish Bradsworth and his co-conspirators forthwith.

We wish to also make clear our actions regarding the Bradsworth regime so far. Recently I sent a message via diplomatic courier to Bradsworth. It detailed an offer from Her Imperial Majesty, in return for announcing that he is stepping down from his self-proclaimed office and powers the “Premiere” will be granted a chance to accept exile from the Shield and the dominions of Iansisle. This exile will be strictly enforced by Her Imperial Majesty’s Ministry of External State Security, and if it is violated he will be apprehended and brought before a court to be tried for his crimes. A similar offer is open to his ministers and colleagues, excluding one Lawerence Madders. Madders has been deemed a grave threat to any attempts to restore the true government of the Shield and a criminal against the most basic rights of men and the common decency. As such Her Imperial Majesty fully intends to seem him tried and then executed for his crimes and sins.

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government have also issued a clear statement to the Commonwealth of Robotstan. If the Robotstani choose to continue to support the criminals of this “republic” they will lose all advantages and friendship they currently enjoy with the United Star Empire. A message that will arrive in Kingston shortly will make this clear to the Robotstani government. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government fully expect that the Commonwealth will make the due and proper decision that continued alliance with the United Star Empire is of considerably greater value than that with the dangerous and morally bankrupt entity known as the Gull Flag Republic.

With that being said, I will leave you all to make your own decisions in regard to this issue. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government will await your responses in earnest. They also wish you all Godspeed and good luck in your endeavors against the criminal enterprise being lead by Charles Bradsworth.

With deepest regards & respects,
Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler

Presidential Palace, Golden Agate

Jeff Williams put down the letter from Ribbentrop and looked out of the simulated window of the underground presidential offices.

It’s good to know that we aren’t alone in this outrage.

Jeff got back to the matter at hand, he turned to the assembled group of men in his office, the Military Council.

“What’s the latest,” he asked firmly.

Air General Devlin cleared his throat. “We have Singer and the Ninth Fleet en route to the edge of Iansislian waters in a show of… what exactly?” he asked. “We’ve got one message coming from this office, and another from the Diplomatic Offices and Katana.”

“That’s what I want,” Jeff said. “I want to leave Bradsworth and the rest of them guessing a little bit. The more they think I’m some mad dog, the more they’ll probably be willing to negotiate with Katana after I’m gone.

“I want options,” Jeff added. “Where in Iansisle’s line is the weakest? Where could we hit and get through?”

Devlin stepped aside as Admiral David Casey walked up, “If I had to say. I’d say Gallaga. We could stir up some trouble there if need be. Or we could land at Cape Jackson and the tip of Sentry Island. Clear up enough of their defenses to let the rest of the fleet take a run at Ianapalis. If they are still as disdainful of subs as you said they used to be, then the Sixth Sub detachment could pop up at Ianapalis, say ‘hidie-ho’ and let them know we’re around.”

“Or we could take some of the military aerodynes from the Ninth and try to fly them to the mainland,” Devlin interjected.

“What’s to stop us from dropping some men in Gallaga or Iansisle’s mainland? Some, 10, 15-thousand men with no wives, children or other families, and letting them go?” Williams asked before shaking his head. “No. If Magnus Valerius decides to follow up their war declaration with action, they might have this knowledge also. And right now I want to try and at least stay up with the latest thoughts of all the parties involved.”

Casey nodded, “So then, we won’t be engaging?”

“Well, we will be soon enough if Katana works the magic only he can in Iansisle,” Jeff said with a grim look.

“We’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Casey said.

“Javin’s not the most popular person in Iansisle. Well, he is with the ladies, and that tends to be the problem,” Jeff said. “He’s young, charismatic, smart and a pain in the ass. Sooner or later Bradsworth will get tired of him. And if Katana doesn’t get through his first meeting with Bradsworth and the others without saying ‘unimaginably large military arsenal’ every 9 seconds then he’s out of his mind.

“You can go, thank you for your time gentlemen,” Jeff added as he stood.

Once the officers left, he grinned as he picked up the phone and dialed his secretary. It was time to up the ante a little on Bradsworth.

“Sarah,” he said to his assistant, “Get me President Gibbson in Imitora on the phone.”

-----

LSS Arkadia, off of Iansislian waters

Admiral Singer looked at the latest report to come out of the Larkinian Diplomatic Offices.

“So we’re here to keep everyone from shooting at each other,” he said after reading it.

“Well, for now,” Captain Lewis McGahee said. “Although things can always change. We could probably get involved in a conflict out here quickly, depending on how paranoid the Ians are. It sounds likes war is starting to break out. If the sides involved know we’re out here, and if other allies are willing to step up, say… allies with a history in Iansisle? We could change things in Ianapalis.”

Singer chuckled as he looked out onto the sea.

“You mean the Imitorans?” he asked.

“Yes sir. They’ve been in Iansisle before, they have the tech to scare them back, yet they probably won’t want to nuke the entire country, unlike last time,” McGahee said. “Which was allegedly a mistake.”

“It’s been a long time since the Alliance mattered to much of anyone on all sides of the equation,” Singer said. “Maybe if it did, then none of us would be in this situation.”

McGahee nodded before taking a sip of coffee. “So you think they know we’re out here?”

Singer grinned as he looked back at the young officer, “There’s no way they can miss us. It’s just a matter of time, and given the diplomatic bitching goin’ on, we’re probably not at the top of their list right now. Anyway captain, you’d probably better get back to the Niven before your crew misses you.,” he said as he saluted McGahee.

“Yes, sir.” McGahee said before leaving the bridge.

OOC: *Beats head against desk* My chief ambassadors on Earth's name is Reinstadler not Ribbentrop. I didn't even realize I had made that error until I looked back and reviewed the post. Corrected the error, sorry for the mix up.

OOC: Official spot held for post of IC nature...

((ooc: Just as a quick not, Charles Bradsworth is no longer the premier of the National Assembly. He resigned in the 'Phoenix' thread in protest against the vote to hang Callahan, taking it as a vote of no confidence. Ben Rinehart, the former Director of Foreign Affairs, succeeded him (as seen in the first post of this thread) whereas Bradsworth retired to Upper Daldonia "to raise horses and maybe fall in love"

Rinehart was one of Bradsworth’s closest followers; already an old man in the late 40s when Bradsworth returned to the Shield, Rinehart is genuinely determined to continue the ‘Glorious Enterprise’ nature of the Revolution and stabilize the Republic. However, because of the nature of the Constitution, there is little centralized power in the Republic; individual directors have the power to make policy within their own departments without the direct consent of the Premier. Rinehart does not have nearly the presence or command of Bradsworth and often finds himself tricked by Madders and de Fenne into doing things which work against his own goals for the Republic. This weakness is exploited not only by Grand Streeters, but also by the Gull Flaggers, who fear Rinehart attempting to run for Premier in the next elections.

Just ooc for now, I’m afraid! I’ll have some more IC stuff later.))

I'd post bu Im really drunk right now and that justs ouwldnmt be right

OOC:


((* yes, I know...Grecian scholars may damn me, but ‘Ianapalis’ is spelled with three ‘a’s and no ‘o’s. My apologies to the proper spelling, but three years of RP have rather locked me into the wrong way (rather like ‘Iansisleans’ vrs. ‘Iansislians’). =)


Haha, my Latin's pretty bad as well. I wanted to make 'Great Valeria' or 'Greatest Valeria' in Latin, but apparently I was wrong in trying to figure out how to spell it when I registered Magnus Valerius ages ago. It should've been Magna Valeria, but now, I'm stuck with Magnus Valerius; it apparently means 'Greatest Farewell' in Latin. :p

OOC to Excalbia: Contact Magnus Valerius however you like. Surprise envoy, diplomatic letter, whatever. Tsar Alexander is unstable and hot-headed, et. al, but he won't care how you reach out him.

OOC 3: Oh yeah, I'll make some military stats for Magnus Valerius soon. Maybe tomorrow I'll have them ready, for those who want to know about the nation's military. Right now, I am estimating that The Valerian Empire has 1.5 million men in service, but I'll get a more certain figure and then have ship numbers, air squadrons, and armies done as well.

And check my sig. It has a link to the NSWiki Page for Magnus Valerius. It's not completed, but there's still some maps and info. Also, check out the list of Valerian Emperors (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/List_of_Valerian_Rulers). It needs a lot of work, but still impressive, huh? :)

Ivan I and IV and Alexander II's articles are complete, so read them if you like. Speaking of NSWiki, I really need to start working on everything more to complete most of those 'empty' articles. If only I had the time. :p

One more thing: The Bumblebee rockets are not guided missiles. They're 'point-and-shoot' rockets.

OOC4: One last last thing. The year in Magnus Valerius is 2045 (date exactly March 12th, 2045), but that's because their calendars belong to a backwards, domestic system.

IC:

The Imperial Palace, Isangrad

Tsar Alexander III read carefully through the letter that has just arrived from Valinon. The tsar was pleased to know that he was backed by at least some great power out in the stars, but he wonders if he would actually get any support. Today, the day after the declaration of war on Iansisle, the tsar was going to meet up with Minister of War Balmarik to discuss strategy beyond the originally planned small force.

Balmarik knocked on the tall double doors at the end of the King's Meeting Hall in the palace before he stepped inside to meet with the tsar. Paskeyev served Syl'Vana green tea and Valerian 'pocket pies', miniature pies filled with diced fruits of some sort. The tsar's fierce, amber eyes glanced over at Balmarik's cool, sleepy grey eyes before Balmarik took a seat beside the tsar to construct another plan of attack.

"Welcome, Balmarik. Please, have some tea. It's the finest to come out of Syl'Vana's valleys," the tsar grunted, trying to be somewhat hospitable.

"Thank you," replied Balmarik as he helped himself to a cup laid out in front of him.

"Well, it is time to discuss more military action. While we already have a strong fleet and a battalion of troops ready for a first wave against Iansisle, I think that they would not be enough to ensure victory. What do you suggest? You're the military mind here."

Balmarik pulled out a file from the inside of his coat, the intelligence on the Grand Empire of the Shield (or, at least, what it used to be). Balmarik placed maps of Gallaga, Dianatran, Iansisle, and the various other Iansislean possessions. Next came numerous notes, written on old paper (perhaps from back in the reign of Meijis I the Great, 1939-2000), and newer notes on fresher paper, presumably made by Balmarik. Balmarik, who has been working endlessly these past days, now had a plan for a crushing victory against Iansisle.

"First and foremost come the Iansislean colonies out in Asia. We have Iansislean Gallaga, Iansislean Sarawak, Iansislean Philippines, Iansislean Bantam, and Iansislean Palau. They seem to be easy pickings, considering that they are distant from the Gull Flag Republic and are pretty loosely controlled. After all, they are colonies, not national territories. A force of 17,000 men or more can overrun Gallaga's defenses. We should also send smaller forces to the other Iansislean holds outside of the North Pacific. I already have arranged for more ships and troops to be readied for deployment. By the way, our first strike force is about to depart Trentino."

"That's great," said the tsar with a grin. He seemed as if he were satisfied that bloodshed was about to break out between Valerian and Iansislean men.

"Now, as for the issue with Iansisle... I say that it is impossible to win the war with our originally planned intervention force. No, we need something spectacular... like D-Day in World War II or Hawk's Landing during the Sasukuoan War. I want to transport an aggressive landing force of 40,000 men to follow up our other force and send an additional 15 ships... be they cruisers and destroyers, battleships or whatnot. We also need planes. I'm not sure if we have planes that can reach Iansisle from our own bases, but if we make ground on Sentry Island, we can rebase several strategic bombers and squads of fighters. I also want some freighters filled with grain to head to Sentry Island."

"Why is that?"

"Well, intelligence reports that Iansisle may suffer a famine. If we bring grain and feed their populace if we capture them, we'll gain support amongst the citizens of Iansisle. That is, if we can capture Sentry Island. Now, back to the battle plan. I suggest that we have several more waves ready to fight for Sentry Island's occupation and to then be ready to attack the mainland of the Gull Flag Republic. We need plenty of men, ships, and weapons, and I'm pretty sure we have all that, but we should try to conscript some soldiers. We are draining manpower, and if Iansisle's so-called allies have the guts to try and invade The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven, we have to be prepared. We also can get more troop transports and Bumblebee Mk. I flying bombs ready for war as well."

The meeting continued for nearly an hour, and at the end, the emperor sent out the order for more men:


Gallagan Invasion Force
35,000 Infantry (4 Infantry Divisions which includes 1 marine division and 1 artillery brigade)
2,000 Cossacks (1 Cavalry Division)

Iansislean Phillipines Invasion Force
26,000 Infantry (2 divisions which includes 1 marine division and 1 artillery brigade)

Iansislean Sarawak Invasion Force
17,000 Infantry (2 divisions which includes 1 marine division)

Iansislean Bantam Invasion Force
15,000 Infantry (1 marine division with 1 engineer brigade)

Iansislean Palau Invasion Force
5,000 Infantry (1 marine division)

These forces will be escorted by the White and Blue Fleet:

1 Aircraft Carrier:
HMS Sankt Valerian with a complement of 67 airplanes

3 Battleships:
HMS Petrovgrad
HMS Gustav I
HMS Ivan I

4 Battlecruisers:
HMS Theodoric X
HMS Matador
HMS Steltsy
HMS Islander

5 Light Cruisers:
HMS Cambridge
HMS Kingsford
HMS Port Persepol
HMS Tabrizian Pride
HMS Glory

8 Destroyers:
HMS Markos
HMS Eleftherios
HMS Vassilev
HMS Reichstadt
HMS Duke
HMS Prince of Metashas
HMS Wellington
HMS Lakhail

4 submarines:
HMS Huntress
HMS Artemis
HMS Bowyer
HMS Torquemada



"The Second Wave" Invasion Force to Iansisle

42,000 Infantry (4 divisions which includes 2 marine divisions, 1 engineer brigade, 1 sharpshooter brigade, and 1 artillery brigade)
4,000 Cossacks
6 Tanks

To be escorted by the Northwest Squadron

1 battleship:
HMS Magnus Valerius

6 light cruisers:
HMS Bombadier
HMS Grenadier
HMS Sharps
HMS Radford-upon-Vedus
HMS Vedus
HMS Thiese

10 destroyers:
HMS Abrov
HMS Paskevich
HMS Petr Pavel
HMS Lisht
HMS Romanov
HMS Alai
HMS Tsarevich
HMS Borivich
HMS Sheansea
HMS Linderry

5 submarines:
HMS Prowler
HMS Shark
HMS Great White
HMS Sandhead
HMS Snake


Trentino

The docks were bustling with people. 20,000 soldiers were boarding transports. The supplies were all loaded unto the various ships, and the naval ships were ready to weigh anchor and pull out of Trentino's gargantuan harbor, stocked with fuel and neccessities. Vladimir Petrovich smiled and waved at his girlfriend, who came to bid him farewell and good luck. Vladimir carried his heavy backpack and rifle up into the awaiting troop transport and disappeared amongst the hundreds of other men.

General Nikolai Kuropatkin occupied a spacious cabin on one of the transports and decided to draw up battle plans in the time that the force and ships will take to arrive in Iansisle. He lit up a cigarette and kicked back in a cushy chair, dreaming of the glory of battle. The main plan was to let the fleet do most of the damage before the force attacks the mainland, making a beachhead on Sentry Island.

Admiral Kholmogorisky stood on the fleet's flagship, the HMS Meijis. After all preperations were set, he made the order to weigh anchor and fire up the turbine engines. The whistles and horns of the ships blew and the ships began to steam away from the harbor. At last, the expeditionary force and fleet were on their way to Iansisle. They steamed out into King William's Sea and sailed for the mouth of the sea into the Pacific Ocean. The ships steamed at a steady pace of 18.5 knots, slowly but surely on their way to battle.

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia, 1957…

Lord Walter Williams, the Minister of State, leaned back in his chair and picked up a manila folder. He opened it and began skimming through the morning’s cable traffic. A knock at his door interrupted him mid-paragraph. He sat up in his chair and peered over the glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Yes,” he said.

The Minister’s secretary opened the door. “My Lord, Captain Ransglen, the Iansislean naval attaché is here with Mr. Skuja, the Director of the Pacific Affairs Office.”

“Ah,” Lord Walter said closing the folder and taking off his glasses, “please show them in, Phillip.”

The secretary nodded and opened the door widely. Daniel Skuja, a middle-aged man in tailored suit, walked into the Minister’s office followed by the Iansislean attaché. “My Lord,” Skuja said, “this is Captain Ransglen from the Iansislean Embassy.” Skuja turned to Captain Ransglen. “Captain, I would like to present Lord Walter, the Minister of State.”

Lord Walter smiled and offered his hand to the attaché. Then he gestured to the two seats across from his desk. “Please, be seated.”

Once everyone was seated the Minister leaned back in his chair. “Thank you for coming in to see us today, Captain. It seems, pardon my bluntness, that your government has quite a mess on its hands. The international community has clearly condemned the execution of King James. We understand that the Pantocratorians are imposing economic sanctions and that Magnus Valerius has declared war. Now,” Lord Walter gave the attaché an enigmatic look, “we understand an extraterrestrial empire, Valinon, has given your government a rather stern ultimatum.”

The Minister paused and picked up his glasses, holding them in his hand. “At this point, the Holy Empire is not prepared to join in any hostilities against your government. However, we do believe that the international community is clearly demanding appropriate action from your republic. Now,” Lord Walter leaned towards Captain Ransglen, “if your government is prepared to take the appropriate steps, we are prepared to intercede diplomatically in order to try to bring this crisis to a peaceful conclusion.”

Lord Walter leaned back. “We know that the Iansislean people have suffered greatly and our greatest hope is to them spared the consequences of the republic’s actions.”

Ianapalis, The Gull Flag Republic

John Everett, First Secretary and Consul of the Excalbian Legation, waited patiently for his appointment with the Foreign Minister.

Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler
Ambassador-at- Large,
United Star Empire of Valinon

My Lord,

Thank you for your letter describing your government’s proportionate and reasonable efforts to resolve the current crisis in Iansisle. His Imperial Majesty and His Imperial Majesty’s Government share the revulsion and disgust of the United Star Empire at the cruel and unwarranted judicial murder of the High King of the Shield.

We are particularly moved by your efforts on behalf of High Queen Jessica and her son. We note that, at present, the High Queen and her family are taking refuge at your Embassy in Knootoss. On behalf of His Imperial Majesty, I would like to offer our nation as a refuge for the royal family and a temporary base of operations for the legitimate government of the Shield.

As to our efforts in the current crisis, I would like to inform you that His Imperial Majesty has dispatched the 5th Squadron of our Expeditionary Fleet to the Iansislean coast and has made the 4th Squadron ready for rapid deployment to the region. However, our primary objective is not to engage the revolutionaries in combat, but rather, as Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Friedelinde Alderman I clearly intended in her ultimatum to the republicans, to persuade them of the futility of their present position and to persuade them through a judicial combination of diplomacy and the show of force to recant their extremist position.

We would welcome further exchanges and cooperation between our governments in this endeavour.

Respectfully,

Lord William Walters,
Minister of State

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

The Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius

Your Excellency,

On behalf of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, I would like to ask that you accept an emissary from the Holy Empire of Excalbia to discuss the current crisis in Iansisle. It is His Imperial Majesty’s belief that both our governments share a common revulsion at the Iansislean revolutionary government’s judicial murder of High King James of the Shield.

However, as your government has declared war on Iansisle, I must inform you that we have several non-belligerent ships off Iansislean waters. We trust that both sides will respect the current neutrality of our naval vessels.

Respectfully,

Lord William Walters,
Minister of State

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

Government House, Kingston

Ambassador Reinstadler's letter descends on the Cabinet like a ton of bricks. All the optimism brought on by the Gull Flag Republic's declaration of friendship are at once swept away along with parliamentary support. It is in this now very worried climate that Prime Minister Jorge Mondlan is called in front of parliament.

"Order!" yells the Speaker. "This parliament recognizes the Right Honourable Prime Minister Jorge Mondlan."

"Thankyou, Mr. Speaker. Let me start by saying that the dilemmas presented by Ambassador Reinstadler's letter are not taken lightly by the Government, and that we recognize and understand the dissenting opinions that some ministers of parliament have expressed to myself and the other Cabinet Ministers. A descision of this magnitude cannot be made quickly or easily, as you very well know, but let it be known that this government will not stand to abandon its ally during a time of national crisis."

Parliament is engulfed in a tidal wave of noise at that instant, with almost every MP on their feet, gesticulating wildly. The Speaker gavels heavily, but it is a good ten minutes before a majority of MPs take their seats and the proceedings can continue.

At last, an MP from the National Loyalty Party, one of the few right-wing political movements still legal, is selected to address the Prime Minister.

"The Star Empire of Valinon has, for quite near the entirety of this Commonwealth's existance, proven a steadfast and dependable ally. Even the Prime Minister must acknowledge this fact. Does the Prime Minister mean to say that the government intends to dismiss over three decades of friendship and cooperation so as not to look a coward in the eyes of the bloody-minded anarchists of the Gull Flag Republic? If so, where does he plan to flee when the Valinor exact their just revenge for the government's inexcusable stupidity?"

"It is perhaps fitting that the NLP, the only party in this assembly to vote against the motion banning the participation of Royalist insurrectionists in the people's government, is so eager to throw in its lot with the lynch mob of desperate tyrants forming on the Gull Flag Republic's borders! Too long has this People's Commonwealth cowed under vague threats and shyed away from what is moral and right. When would the Minister like this People's Commonwealth to produce its own foreign policy? This century or next? Or would he like to sit around and wait until the same thugs ready to carve-up the Gull Flag Republic turn their guns towards a more familiar landscape?!"

"The Robotstani Democratic Alliance calls for an immediate vote of confidence or no confidence in the present Government's course of action," says the leader of the tiny RDA, a centrist party, from the assembly's hinterland, and the assembly chamber quickly empties as MPs move out into the hall to confer. Mondlan also leaves the chamber and is met by a knot of Robotstani Labour Party parliamentarians. (OCC: Sorry for throwing this party politics stuff in at a moment's notice. The Robotstani Labour Party is the ruling party.) With them is the Prime Minister's assistant, Alberto Domingos.

"It will be close, Jorge. Very close. We don't even have the support of all our MPs, to say nothing of the RDA and the Social Democrats. I think we can count on the Marxists and that's about it."

"Tell me something I don't know Alberto. This could be the end of it, you know. But we need to show the Valinor that we aren't their lapdog. The sooner we get out from under their thumb the better."

"What will the robots think of this? I'm sure they won't be the least bit pleased."

"If there's one thing about our brother Parliament in Kingston-On-Irrawaddy, it is that they can't hold a grudge. They'll get over it sooner or later. Is Mpana working on that letter?"

"I'm sure of it. He says he'll have it finished by nightfall."

Later, in Foreign Minister Mpana's office...

"Read it back to me, Teresa."

"Certainly, sir....

Ambassador Reindstadler,

It is my unhappy responsibility to report that, if your government's position still holds to the content of your last letter, the Commonwealth of Robotstan cannot continue friendly diplomatic relations any longer than your government is willing to pursue them under the present circumstances. While the Commonwealth of Robotstan is saddened at the execution of James Callahan, it is not our right to dictate to the Iansislean people the nature of Callahan's punishment. Our opinion on the matter, expressed in An Open Letter on the Subject of James Callahan's Execution, remains constant and unchanged.

Such a conclusion was not easy to arrive at, but the Commonwealth of Robotstan will not abandon the Gull Flag Republic, its friend and ally, when there exists the very real threat of invasion and destruction of the democracy that the Iansislean people fought so valiantly to achieve. The Commonwealth of Robotstan has nothing but respect for the Star Empire of Valinon and its leadership, and it is very much our hope that former friendships will be at some future date rekindled, but at present we find it necessary to follow our own foreign policy goals and are prepared to face the consequences if and when they arise.

With Regret,
Francis Mpana, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Commonwealth of Robotstan."

"I suppose that will do. The die is cast, eh?"

(OCC: I just want to make it clear that the Commonwealth of Robotstan and the Robotic Collective are two essentially distinct governments, where the Commonwealth is your average Parliamentary system, leaning quite far to the left, while the Collective is not much more than an accounting office with little to no real power. The Collective is doubtless going to stay glued to the Valinor policy, being in line for a few planets (?), and will probably send plenty of angry communiques earthward. In case there was any confusion about that. ;) )

(Also, I've been lately RPing that Robotstan owns East Timor, as a mostly autonomous dependancy. Just FYI. Its not a big thing it someone has a problem with it.)

Government House
Nusheld, Gallaga

The word ‘former’ was used a lot in Gallaga today. Arthur Dunbrook, the former Earl of Furthingham, was the Governor-General of Gallaga, the former Viceroy and representative of the former King-Emperor. He lived in the Government House, the former Viceregal Palace, presided over the Council of the New Shield (and, technically, the other four presidencies of Iansislean Gallaga), and administrated those lands formerly under the control of the former East Gallaga Company of Iansisle.

Iansislean Gallaga was a sprawling empire, extending west along the Ganges to a point some hundred miles past Delhi, into Burma to the Chiangese Empire, and south to the Godavari. It was nearly nine times as large as the Shield in land area and more than four times more populace (and that was figuring just Iansislean Gallaga proper; the Maratha Confederacy, which was under Iansislean administration backed by Iansislean troops, inflated those numbers even more). To police such a large area, Dunbrook could call on twelve Shieldian regiments -- some 26,000 men-at-arms, all told -- and 150,000 Gallagan sepoys of dubious loyalty to police a restless population of 280,000,000 in the throes of an anti-colonial movement.

At sea, the Raj was somewhat less shaky: the thundering 15” broadsides and 500 marines of GFS Republic had been more than enough to silence several revolts in coastal towns. However, the Republic was long overdue for a proper refit in a Shieldian yard. Supporting the former Prince of Shadoran were four light MAFDs, whose aeroflyers could be used to strike at targets inland and project Shieldian aeropower far beyond the range of its proper fields. There were also four heavy cruisers and two flotillas of destroyers; this fair assortment of naval power, however, was only rarely concentrated and more usually out on patrol hunting Gallagan pirates.

On the other hand, the lynchpin of Shieldian seaward defense of Gallaga had always rested upon the guns of Batam: the fortified city of Fort Manly, home to some 200,000 people, guarded jealously the entrance to the Straits of Malacca. At Sekupang, for instance, there were mounted four of the eight massive 18”/50 guns originally detailed to be mounted on the 75,000 ton superbattleship Diomedes. After Diomedes had been deemed too expensive to finish, her half-built hulk was broken up and the slot in Jorgenson and Sons’ Ianapalis yard used to finish the 45,000 ton battleship Titan. However, her four 18” gun turrets had already been built; after much debate, it was decided that two would be mounted on Batam, one of Fort MacMillan guarding the Skull, and one at Fort Jackson guarding the Weshield Strait. Fort Manly also mounted an array of smaller weapons as well as access to NFC Batam, one of the largest docks in the Flying Corps. Fort Manly was generally considered to be immune to assault, thought Iansisleans planners did admit that, were naval resupply jeopardized, it would be vulnerable to a siege.

In short, Dunbrook told himself, Shieldian control on the subcontinent was rapidly slipping. Aided by the famous Rumbiak Brigade, the Congress -- whose peaceful reform-based agenda had largely vanished in the face of Shieldian stubbornness -- was making a habit out of causing difficulty for the Governor-General. It seemed that no sooner had one revolt or sepoy mutiny been suppressed than another another three cropped up in separate corners of the subcontinent. With the Army of the Ganges chronically short on Shieldian soldiers and modern aeroflyers by the needs of home defense, the Raj had been stretched to its breaking point by seven years of near-continuous revolt.

It may seem paradoxical to some -- especially Thomas de Fenne, for instance -- that the Gull Flag Republic, one of the most liberal governments in its corner of the multiverse, should also be the ones to impose a harsh dictatorial government on another country without qualms simply because it was a colony. However, racism was deeply ingrained into the Shieldian psyche; Gallagans were by and large viewed on the Shield as ‘children’ who needed a firm Iansislean hand to guide their development. This desire for independence was simply a teenage revolt; once they had reached maturity, Gallaga would be free to set sail by itself. The fact that most Iansisleans also saw their dominion over Gallaga as the last bastion confirming them as a major world power didn’t hurt, either.

((ooc: A quick sketch of Iansislean Gallaga. A teetering colonial regime is trying to prop itself up with increasingly harsh policies. Here’s a quick map showing Iansislean possessions relative to the mainland:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v294/DrIquan/gallaga.jpg

Also, a quick primer on Shieldian naval weaponry:

18”/50 Mk.I: Built for deployment on HIMS Diomedes. After the Diomedes project was abandoned as impracticable, the 18” guns were deployed as coastal artillery.
Date of Design: 1936
Effective Range: 33,000 yards (at maximum 35? elevation) 36,000+ yards (with boosters)
Shell Weight: 3,300lbs (AP) 3,250lbs (HE)
Rate of Fire: ~1.5 / minute
Used at: Fort Manly (4), Fort Jackson (2), Fort MacMillan (2)
16”/45 Mk.II and Mk.III: While generally considered superior to the older 16”/45 Mk.I, the Mk.IIs and Mk.IIIs still have a number of problems. Compared to smaller Iansislean naval guns, the rate of tracking and fire is abysmally slow and the barrel life is terribly short. Also, even with the modern radranger control and firing control computers, the 16 inchers tend to be less accurate than even the older 14”/45s mounted on the Queen Jessica battlecruisers.
Date of Design: 1940 (Mk.II) 1951 (Mk.III)
Effective Range: 31,000 yards (Mk.II at maximum 33.2? elevation), 33,500 yards (Mk.II with boosters), 36,000 yards (Mk.III at maximum 39.5? elevation), 38,750 yards (Mk.III with boosters).
Shell Weight: 2,098 (AP), 1,950 (HE)
Rate of Fire: ~1.5/minute (Mk.II), ~2/minute (Mk.III)
Used on: Behemoth battleships (Mk.II), Unequivocal battlecruisers (Mk.III). Various Mk.I guns are still used as shore defense guns
15”/45: Identical to British 15”/42 Mk.I (http://www.navweaps.com/Weapons/WNBR_15-42_mk1.htm)
Used on: Crown battleships
14”/45 Mk.I and Mk.II: The Iansislean 14”/45 Mk.I gun is one of the most successful large naval artillery ever produced on the Shield. Quick to track and fire, the Mk.I was originally designed for the new dreadnought Undauntable and later used on the Queen Jessica. The Mk.II is a more recent design used on the most modern Iansislean battleships. Although the 14” gun lacks the penetration power of the larger 16” shells, the Admiralty hopes that the larger rate of (more accurate) fire will outweigh that disadvantage. (Pun fully intended)
Date of Design: 1921 (Mk.I), 1950 (Mk.II)
Effective Range: 30,000 yards (Mk.I at maximum 30.5? elevation) 38,000 yards (Mk.II at maximum 40? elevation), 50,000+ yards (both Mks at 45? elevation with boosters; only used as shore artillery)
Shell Weight: 1,610lbs (AP) 1,595lbs (HE)
Rate of Fire: ~2/minute (Mk.I), ~3/minute (Mk.II)
Used on: Queen Jessica battlecruisers (Mk.I), Indomitable battleships (Mk.II), as shore artillery (both).
12”/45 Mk.VII: Although three different Marks of the venerable 12”/45 gun are still in use at various facilities, the statistics are largely similar. Iansisle’s first big gun design, used on the pre-Salvador King James class predreadnoughts and on the Stalwart, Iansisle’s first all-big-gun ship. The 12”/50 made a brief comeback as part of a ‘escort battleship’ design by the Admiralty (plans called for a well-armored ~20-25,000 ton ship to mount between four and eight 12”/45s at a speed of 12-15 knots to protect convoys from surface raiders) but those plans came to nothing. Currently, the 12”/50 is only used as a shore defense gun, but the Mk.VI and Mk.VII make up more than 75% of Iansisle’s large-scale naval defenses.
Date of Design: 1927 (Mk.V), 1931 (Mk.VI), 1937 (Mk.III)
Effective Range: ~30,000 yards (maximum 45? elevation with boosters on shore guns)
Rate of Fire: ~1.5/minute
Shell Weight: 875lbs (AP)
Used on: Shore guns only.
21” Mk.XVI torpedo: The latest ship-borne torpedo design. Like most previous marks, the Mk.XVI is also a poor depth keeper, with the actual range being somewhat shorter than the Admiralty will admit as torpedoes have a chance of sinking below an enemy’s hull. Like all Iansislean torpedoes, the Mk.XVI is not guided and uses contact exploders.
Date of Design: 1954
Effective Range: ~10,000 yards at 15 knots (5,500 yards at 25 knots)
Torpedo Weight: 2,950lbs
Charge: 690lbs
Used on: Most all destroyers, torpedo boats, and cruisers
18” Mk.XI torpedo: Iansisle’s current aerodrop torpedo has the reputation of being a somewhat better depth keeper, although the internal workings are the exact same; many experts ascribe the ‘better performance’ to be due to a feeling of oneupsmanship among NFC knights. A satisfactory weapon for its purpose, the Mk.XI was never intended to be a ship-killer; its purpose is to wound the enemy battle fleet so that the Iansislean battle fleet may close to gunnery range and finish its work.
Date of Design: 1952
Effective Range: 2,100 yards at 40 knots
Torpedo Weight: 1,850lbs
Charge: 590lbs
Used on: Aeroflyers, some torpedo boats

k. This is post one of three I have planned for tonight, giving the general state of Gallaga, some OOC info and such. Specific replies to naval matters are coming up next. Political replies will be in the third post. I just wanted to make sure y’all knew I wasn’t dead =).))

((I just wanted to make sure y’all knew I wasn’t dead =).))

((Who are you? Wait... I think I remember now... :P *looks around nervously for flying fruit* ))

((Who are you? Wait... I think I remember now... :P *looks around nervously for flying fruit* ))

((Hah! I'll content myself with shaking my fist this time, you whippersnapper!))

NFC Mount Caduna
Northeast of Cape MacMillan, Sentry Island

The report from Admiral Redford’s command of Excalbian aerocraft over the Skull had finally shook the Flying Corps into action. Ships were the Navy’s problem, the aeroknights assured themselves, but a threat to the aerospace of Iansisle was well within the Corps’ area of responsibility. NFC Mount Caduna was the southernmost of the string of docks which ran along Iansisle’s western coast to NFC Cape Hunt near Shield’s End on the Noropian border.

A MPAF-9 Spirit was rolled out onto the tarmac and made ready for flight. The venerable twin-engined Spirit was not the oldest aerocraft still in service with the Flying Corps, but it was starting to show its age. Still, there was no more versatile craft in the NFC’s arsenal: originally intended as a long-range bomber escort, the Spirit had also transformed into a reconnoissance flyer, a night fighter, and light bomber in its right, with both torpedoes and bombs.

Before the Spirit could even lift off, however, the radranger station on Cape MacMillan picked up the Excalbian Seahawk and reported it to Mount Caduna. A pair of Gelderlanders were launched in support of the Spirit and a the dock’s squadron of TBAF-3 Horseflies -- Iansisle’s first jet-powered torpedo bombers -- were brought to the alert.

Meanwhile, the four battlecruisers and fourteen destroyers of the Battlecruiser Fleet were steaming at twenty knots -- an easy pace for them, but still above the peacetime recommended sixteen knots -- towards the Skull. The grey morning of the Shield slowly became a grey afternoon.

---

GFS Foray
Near the Unsterbank Shoals

“I’d pay real money to know what they’re up to, sir,” said Weighton, his glass on the Excalbian destroyer. “They have to know ol’ Aquatic and our chummy sisterships are assembled nor’ of here, sir, but they’re charging into them ‘thout a care in the world.”

“Indeed,” said Pearsdon. He had not really been listening to Weighton’s mindless chatter. Their wireless officer had intercepted some chatter on the Excalbian frequencies, but nothing that could be decoded.

“If I were their Admiral, sir, I’d have changed course to east-nor-east and cut across the head of the Shoals. It’d take ‘em close to Tharian waters, sir, but they’d have a better chance of avoiding our squadron.”

“Indeed,” said Pearsdon again.

“Sir!” said the radranger operator suddenly. “Sir!”

“Report, don’t just stand there flapping your lips,” snapped Pearsdon.

“’t other ships, sir! They’re gone!”

In irritation, Pearsdon crossed the bridge with three large steps and glanced at Foray’s surface search radranger himself. Indeed, most of the dots indicating the Excalbian ships were gone. Only their shadow, the Irbe, and one other remained on course for the flotilla.

Pearsdon raged inside at the stupidity of the radranger operator: Irbe and the other ships must have been heading on slightly divergent courses, and he had not noticed until it was too late and the bulk of the fleet had vanished off his screen. He vaguely remembered a similar ruse being used by an Iansislean destroyer to screen her convoy when confronted by a German battlecruiser on raiding duty in the North Atlantic. Still, he could not believe his ship had been so fooled.

“Ring the engine room: all engines ahead full, flank speed,” said Pearsdon.

The lee helmsman looked surprise. “er, all engines ahead full, flank speed, aye sir,” he replied.

“My respects, captain,” said Weighton quietly. “I don’t think that’s quite wise, sir. The sea’s are a bit rough for my taste and the wind’s against us.”

It was true, damn his eyes. The wind had shifted to from the east to the northeast and the waves were starting to swell fine on the starboard bow. The Zeta class could fly along at nearly forty knots in perfect conditions, but doing so in a contrary sea was to endanger the ship.

“Belay that last order,” said Pearsdon, grudgingly. He would have liked to show the Excalbians a clean pair of heels in return for his humiliation. “All engines ahead full, make turns for thirty-two knots.”

“All engines ahead full, turns for thirty-two knots, aye sir,” said the lee helmsman, just a hint of relief in his voice.

“Very well. Mr Weighton, I want you to keep an eye on that destroyer. If she lets us pull ahead, starboard your helm and cut across her bows. If she matches our acceleration, decelerate to such a speed as you feel is safe and cut across her stern. I want us on course zero-seven-one as soon as possible. You have the deck.”

“I have the deck, aye sir,” said Weighton, startled perhaps at the responsibility which had been dumped in his lap. After the formal exchange of salutes, such a risky (and uncouth!) maneuver as cutting the Excalbian’s bow or wake seemed quite unusual. However, Pearsdon, somewhat glad in the back of his mind to dump this all on Weighton, retired to his quarters and poured himself a brandy. He then sat at his desk, took up a pen, and began to ponder how he was going to explain this to the Commodore.

---

GFS Halswick
The Weshield Strait

The tiny sloop motored along its patrol route at a bare seven knots, its ASDIC pinging away at the shallow bottom of the strait. The Weshield Strait was the wider of the two entrances to Troobodia Bay, being some twenty-seven miles end-to-end, but far and away less friendly to hostile forces than the Skull. The actual Strait was only navigable for about a five-mile-wide channel in the middle, a touch closer to the Sentrian side than the Weshieldian one. The rest of the Strait was filled dangerous shoals, the result of currents which picked up the deposits of the enormous Jaizar River, pulled them east -- adding along the debris Daldon, the Oes, and the Duner -- and piled it up against Cape Jackson.

The Skull, on the other hand, was where Pacific currents entered Troobodia Bay from the Marches, swirled in a circle around the island of Troobodia itself, and headed on their way out the Weshield Strait. Scientists said that one day the entire Strait would vanish, replaced by a spit of land between Sentry Island and Cape Jackson, and Troobodia Bay would become a great hypersalinated stagnant body like the Black Sea. While the Skull was only sixteen miles wide from Cape MacMillan to Cape Ienno in Tharia, it was considerably deeper than the Weshield Strait, and its complicated currents and thermal layers gave submarines their best chance to penetrate Iansisle’s mare nostrum. However, the Iansislean Navy and Flying Corps knew that just as well as their enemies; patrols were much heavier in the Skull and, during times of war, any vessel trying to enter the Skull submerged was depth charged without a second question asked. Submarine nets were strung up, ASDIC buoys were deployed and, in times of desperation, mines were sewn.

The Strait, however, afforded a much easier passage to merchant vessels. With a decently competent pilot, ships could traverse the Channel without too much difficulty, and the Revenue Service was far less of a hassle.

Which was just what a certain Valerian merchantman, the Good Fortune, happened to be doing when the sloop Halswick trained her guns on her and ordered the Valerian to heave to at once for boarding.

---

Once everyone was seated the Minister leaned back in his chair. “Thank you for coming in to see us today, Captain. It seems, pardon my bluntness, that your government has quite a mess on its hands. The international community has clearly condemned the execution of King James. We understand that the Pantocratorians are imposing economic sanctions and that Magnus Valerius has declared war. Now,” Lord Walter gave the attaché an enigmatic look, “we understand an extraterrestrial empire, Valinon, has given your government a rather stern ultimatum.”

The Minister paused and picked up his glasses, holding them in his hand. “At this point, the Holy Empire is not prepared to join in any hostilities against your government. However, we do believe that the international community is clearly demanding appropriate action from your republic. Now,” Lord Walter leaned towards Captain Ransglen, “if your government is prepared to take the appropriate steps, we are prepared to intercede diplomatically in order to try to bring this crisis to a peaceful conclusion.”

Lord Walter leaned back. “We know that the Iansislean people have suffered greatly and our greatest hope is to them spared the consequences of the republic’s actions.”


Captain Nicolas Ransglen was a great swarthy Gadsani from the Del with a booming voice to match his stature. He sat quietly as Lord Walter outlined the fine mess that the Republic had found itself in and proposed to intervene diplomatically.

“Well,” he said, keeping his dark eyes locked with Lord Walters. “I must remind you, sir, that I can only agree to terms ad referendum: I have no official negotiation powers. However, I do believe it would be in my government’s best interests if I could relay what your government considers ‘appropriate steps’ to them.”

He deliberately misused Lord Walter’s title: standing orders from the Foreign Office were that no official representing Iansisle in any capacity was at any time to style any dignitary higher than ‘sir’, up to and including royalty.

---

John Everett, First Secretary and Consul of the Excalbian Legation, waited patiently for his appointment with the Foreign Minister.

The Foreign Office was in #3 Jameston Place. Upon arrival to the (rather lushly appointed, for a revolutionary republic) office, Everett was sent in at once to meet with the Director of Foreign Affairs.

Compared to the short, stocky, balding Lawrence Madders or the elderly Rinehart, Thomas de Fenne could be considered handsome, even dashing. He had the fair complexion and hair of a Foothillsman, a strong chin and cheekbones, and deeply blue eyes. When he spoke, it was with the soft, lilting accent of the northern Shield rather than the clipped, officious tones of a Shadoranite or the slight drawl of a Weshielder. It was a testament to his skill and force of will, perhaps, that he could maintain a position of power in the Republic even after all the anti-Foothills propaganda which had declared James “the Northman-Tyrant.”

“Welcome to Jameston Place, Secretary Everett,” he said. His voice was somewhat quieter than Everett might have imagined after hearing his fiery speeches over the wireless. “What can I do for you?”

---

((ooc: Ugh, I’m sorry Val. I meant to get to your post next...but so tired...*crash*

If I missed anyone else, lemme know. I feel like I'm forgetting a post somewhere. *shrug*))

OOC: Don't worry about it, Ian, and in regards to the name mix up. Consider it this, the Valinor intelligence services are busy and even the Aldermans' various personal agents are being worked into the ground with the state of affairs regarding the Ortagan Hegemony. Call the fact that the Valinor are still harking on Bradsworth as a case where the Valinor intelligence services have fumbled the ball, most likely it will end up having about the same effect the Valinor wanted.

Aboard INV Irbe, Off Unsterbank Shoals

“Mr. Coombs,” a rating said from the hatch leading to the port bridge wing, “the Iansislean destroyer is accelerating, sir.”

The XO walked towards port and joined the rating at the railing. “I make her speed at least 30 knots, sir,” the rating said.

“I agree,” LT Phillip Coombs said, reaching down for the ship’s communicator.

“Captain to the bridge, please,” he said hurriedly. Before he could return the communicator to his hook, it buzzed.

“Bridge, this is the Captain,” Commander Jekob Bergmanis’ voice said over the comm.

“Captain,” Coombs said, “the Iansilsean is trying to accelerate away from us, sir.”

“Hmm. They may have realized that the rest of the squadron has slipped off to the east…”

“Shall we match speed, sir?”

“No. Not now. Let’s see what the want to do. We can keep up with them, if need be. First, we need to notify Holy Empire and let the Admiral know that the Gull Flaggers are on to him.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Coombs said.

Skyhawk One, West of Cape MacMillan

“Skipper,” Chief Ernest Pakalns said, twisting his head to look forward towards the pilot, “we have three airborne contacts, converging and moving generally in our direction.”

LT JG Trevor Cooke involuntarily gripped the stick a little more tightly. “I think we’ve been spotted, Chief.”

“Roger that, Skipper.”

Cooke activated his mic. “Rover Leader. Skyhawk One. Over.”

“Skyhawk One. Go.” Came a familiar static filled voice.

“Rover Leader. We have uninvited guests.”

“Roger, Skyhawk One. Rover Three and Four are trying to get better visuals on the buckets, but the rest of us are en route to your location. Over.”

Aboard INV Holy Empire, Southwest of Cape MacMillan, Off Unsterbank Shoals…

“Irbe reports that their Iansislean destroyer is breaking to east, towards our position,” LCDR Isaiah Brooks leaned over the map table and made some markings in grease pencil. “Undoubtedly they have notified their flotilla and the cruiser squadron that we have moved out of their radar range to the east…”

VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen looked cautiously at the map. “Have our planes reported any movement from the cruiser squadron, Commander?”

“No, sir,” the intelligence officer said.

“My Lord,” LCDR Richard Grasis said with a slight nod, “we must assume that the Iansisleans will expect us to cut across here,” the tactical officer pointed to the map, “towards Tharian waters and out of range of their squadron…”

VADM Sorensen leaned over the map. “Hmmm…”

“My Lord,” CAPT Harry Olofsson, Holy Empire’s CO, leaned over the map from other side of the table, “a thought…”

“Yes, Captain?” Sorensen looked up at Olofsson.

“The Iansisleans are concentrating their defences on the southern straits, the so-called Skull…”

“Yes…” Sorensen looked at the captain, silently urging him to get on with it.

“Well, my Lord, since our mission is not to engage the Iansisleans directly but… worry them, why not make for the northern straits, the Weshield Straits…”

Grasis shook his head. “My Lord, the channel is narrow and much shallower; our submarines would be pressed…”

“We may not even need to enter the straits, my Lord,” Olofsson said. “If we can evade the Gull Flaggers and make towards Cape Jackson, we may not run into any other vessels until we come upon some of their revenue cutters…”

Sorensen smiled. “And it would give any revenuer quite a fright to have a battle squadron come upon them unannounced.”

“I dare say, my Lord,” added Brooks, “it might alarm their entire home fleet; they would have to assume we were able to navigate the straights and were intending to do so, catching their forces out of position.”

“Very good,” Sorensen said, standing. “Radio Irbe and Bulvitis to continue towards the destroyer flotilla until they make some movement. If they move east, let Irbe and Bulvitis pass to the west and then turn north-northeast towards Cape Jackson. Let’s drop something back to continue the ruse that we are moving towards the Skull… I see New Fairfax, our new missile cruiser, is on the south-southwest of our position; they’ll likely be the first ship to appear on that destroyer’s radar. Radio them to continue on course, at good speed towards the head of the shoals.”

“Shouldn’t we leave some destroyers with them, my Lord,” Grasis said tentatively.

Sorensen nodded. “Allen and Parker should be sufficient to create the illusion that we are continuing on course – as long as they can stay at the edge of radar range. The rest of the squadron will move under full power due north to here,” he pointed to the map, “then north-northwest past Cape MacMillan, before cutting back to the north-northeast and making for Cape Jackson.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

Lord Walters held the Iansislean captain’s gaze as he spoke. The Minister of State nodded. “Naturally we realize, Captain, that you will need to refer this matter to your home government.”

The Minister folded his glasses and put them back on the table. “As for what constitutes appropriate steps, that will, of course, be a matter of discussion. Our initial expectation would be something akin to what the United Star Empire has demanded – the restoration of the House of Callahan in the person of High Queen Jessica and a suitable act of contrition on the part of the republican government.”

Lord Walters held up a wrinkled hand. “Now, Captain, please be clear in speaking with your government, we are not calling for the dissolution of the republican government nor the punishment or exile of its leaders. Rather, we would hope that reasonable beings could come to some reasonable agreement. Perhaps the restoration of a constitutional monarchy with clearly defined limits on royal authority and a public acknowledgement that the… execution… of High King James was motivated by passion rather than justice and a pledge to take steps to better protect those charged with crimes, even high crimes and treason, from being judged on the basis of populist passions rather than reasonable jurisprudence.

“However, I do not necessarily expect the current government in Ianapalis to agree to unconditionally to all these steps at this time. Rather, I think even a publicly stated willingness to concede the… impolitic nature of the High King’s execution and to engage in negotiations with all interested parties, including the rightful heir to the throne, would be enough to begin talks.”

Ianapalis, The Gull Flag Republic

John Everett was mildly surprised to be received by the Director of Foreign Affairs himself. Nevertheless, as a polished career diplomat, Everett hid his reaction well and bowed slightly to de Fenne.

“Your Excellency,” he said, following his instructions to use traditional titles for minister-level officials, “thank you for seeing me; I only wish that my visit could come under more pleasant circumstances.” The Director was certainly not as Everett imagined him, but again, he refused to let his surprise show.

“His Imperial Majesty through His Imperial Majesty’s Government has directed to inform you, your Excellency, that the Holy Empire is aware of both the Magnus Valerian declaration of war and the United Star Kingdom’s ultimatum to the Gull Flag Republic. He is also aware that the Republic’s naval forces have detected the presence of an Imperial battle squadron in international waters off your coast.

“His Imperial Majesty wishes the Republic to know that while he and his government are incensed at the execution of High King James and share in the international community’s condemnation of this deed, it is not his intention that his naval forces become engaged in hostilities at this time. His Imperial Majesty’s Government, therefore, is informing both the Republic and the Grand Empire that our ships are neutral and is requesting that both sides respect their neutrality.

“In addition, while the people of Excalbia share His Imperial Majesty’s revulsion and are demanding further action through the Imperial Senate, His Imperial Majesty is sympathetic to the difficult times facing the people of Iansisle and greatly desires to spare them from the repercussions of the Republic’s actions in regard to the High King. Therefore, His Imperial Majesty’s Government has been instructed to offer its good offices to work towards a negotiated resolution to the current crisis. Provided, of course, that the Republic is prepared to demonstrate its good faith to the international community.”

Vollumbo, The Walmingtonian Viceroyalty of Ceyloba

The Kariba wandered out from the docks at a Walmingtonian pace, its feeble engine puttering softly so that it could just be heard from the waterfront where crates of tea were stacked tidily as in the ship's hold. The small vessel, belonged to the Henry Wayne Cape Company, would make use of its full rig once properly under way, as Sir Henry was on another economy drive (he intended to buy a train), and Walmington had known cheaper oil than was being pumped today.

Behind the crates that waited ashore for the Kariba's sister, the Imperial Trade Commission climbed three stories on the scene of a famous battle of just over two hundred years previous, and, beside that, on the face of what was now rubber processing plant, a freeze rose almost as high in dramatic remembrance of the defence in 1750 of the then Walmingtonian Trade Mission against the attention of a Gallagan regiment, including Sgt.Brent's famous single-handed delaying action on the central wall, Captain Durnford's devestating Defence Gun, and the arrival of the Calarcan ship Admiral Coney to relieve the garrison as it gave near to breaking-point.

Ceyloba's early colonial history, in the C18th scramble for Gallaga that left remote and under-populated Walmington with no enduring foot-hold on the mainland and a death-grip on the island that produced more than a third of a million tonnes of tea each year -about half being for consumption in Walmington-, stands as a story of unrest, conquest, revolt and violent rejolt. Since then, especially under the long and enlightened administration of its current Governor (sometimes Viceroy), Sir James Frazer, Ceyloba had been stable as the Cape Colonies (since the Second Cape War concluded in 1927), while Saharaland and Togoland went to relative chaos, with fighting almost a constant between Imperial or Company troops and nationalist, Islamist, or warlord militias.

On the horizon, smoke. A phonecall warning the Ceylobans to brace for a visit from the poor relations, the sailors from African stations. All that the West African colonies seemed these days to have in common with Ceyloba was the phosphate industry, so it was well that the Cape squadrons would arrive first, and that most Mauritanian soldiers were engaged in local security operations and as such unavailable for deployment to the east.

Walmington was in every danger of losing northern Togoland, and expected continued trouble in Madagascar (it had been this way for centuries), but gunboat policies, the institution thought, would save Sao Tome and Principe, and the Togoland and Saharaland coasts with their towns and mines, while prosperity would limit trouble on the Cape and Sir Henry could 'administer' Waynesia in the darkness. Ceyloba was safe because Great Walmington absolutely refused to accept any other condition, and would defend the island and the authority of king, parliament, and governate like it were home. The idea of collapsing Iansislian control on the mainland horrified the Whigs, delighted Social Labour, and put thoughts of a comeback into the failing mind of Sir Henry Tories-in-his-pocket Chaspot Wayne.

The Royal Walmingtonian Navy, if the Constitutional Monarchy was a little unsure, was quite resolute in its preparedness to fight along-side a neighbour of two centuries, the Ians. If those forces arrayed against Iansisle were to target Gallaga, they would at least find the little Walmingtonian soldier and salior dead set against them, and prepared to fight like Brent, the worker, against five savage warriors, or like Durnford, the gent, with a ruddy great machinegun, or like the noble Galla, with sticks and stones and pointy bits of anything to hand. You couldn't object to the fall of the king and to the Ians' empire, so reasoned the Walmingtonians, who may yet be convinced to reactivate their radio, infra-red, and active-radar missile-guidance programmes...

Meanwhile, on the Shield...

Beauregard Rain, this was a Walmy of note. Black hair slicked back with Brylcreem, little moustache half-way between Hitler and Sir Talfryn Cheeseman, some suspicion of roots in, "the travelling community" [the most polite Walmington ever got in respect of thy Gypsy lot]. He'd had a good go at building an empire in Latin America, but it had come to nothing. Now, Mr.Rain, suspected associate of Sir Henry, but unproven as a friend, was the second largest shareholder in Stockley Motors. He was vital, after the mid-life crisis suffered by the firm before the onset of the Anti-Fascist War, and had gobbled-up enough of the company to make himself the key ally to Lord Stockley himself. Only with Beauregard's friendship could Stockley weild a controlling stake in his father's company.

Mr.Rain was in the Republic to talk business. He was a millionaire in Generals, let alone any other currency. For every up-market Stockley bought in the Shield, a couple of dozen Generals found their way into Rain's control, and one or two for each of the mid-range models (there was no lower-range from Stockley- Wychwood sold cars that actually made sense and went places, not Stockley, which favoured tanks coated in Cape gold and Malagasy timber). The idea of the Republic's economy stumbling and buying less Stockley motors was not appealing. This Walmingtonian wanted to invest in something on the Shield. Possibly even something exporting to the Yanks, for it certainly couldn't be done from Walmington. He, like a handful of other Wallys -80% Tory and 19% Whig- wanted to invest soon, and invest big, in whatever was likely to last with the Ians. This sent plenty of old dopes to invest in whatever the government suggested, and as many experienced capitalists to take advantage.

Approaching Batam

Royal Oak approaching Batam from the east. This may not have happened since the hulk was delivered to the Walmingtonians howevermany years ago. Frazer was called-back to defend Ceyloba. The rest of the fleet went on, but Royal Oak couldn';t, everyone knew it. No way the old lady was gettign across the Pacific. She headed back to Ceyloba to deploy her eight 12" guns in a defensive role. The Walmingtonians weren't sure how to act as their eastern flagship passed back through Malacca. The other six vessels, including two heavy cruisers, pressed on towards the shield, but the flag was out of it, Frazer was back towards Ceyloba.

(Drunk? Me? On Cape wine? Nonsense! Two bottles don't not do nothin to me an my writing.)

OOC:

Here's a couple of ship classes. I'll post more later, and I would have made more, but I'm still relaxing after pulling off late nights for a chem midterm. :p

Dreadnought Mk. VIII: The standard for Valerian battleships. Once based off the old British HMS Dreadnought (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Dreadnought_%281906%29), the ship design has been improved upon several times. The dreadnought is considered to be the pride and joy of the Valerian Navy, and with merit too: the ship design is highly seaworthy and battleworthy. The word, 'dreadnought', is also an epithet for battleship in Magnus Valerius.
Date of Design: 2011
Displacement: 32,500 tons
Length: 615 ft.
Beam: 97 ft.
Draft: 29.4 ft.
Speed: 22 knots
Complement: 900-1100 officers and men
Armament:
12 x 14 inch guns
12 x 6 inch guns
4x 4 inch guns
4 x 3 inch AA guns
3 x 21-inch submerged torpedo tubes

Velikiy Dreadnought: An experimental battleship that is a gargantuan fortress on the seas. Currently, the only V. Dreadnought is the HMS Ivan I, which is preparing to sail to Iansisle's colonial possessions. The ship is heavily armed and armored.
Date of Design: 2038
Displacement: 72,000 tons
Length: 862.5 ft.
Beam: 121 ft.
Draft: 36 ft.
Speed: 25.75 knots
Complement: 2,650 men
Armament:
10 x 17 inch guns
8 x 6 inch guns
16 x 5 inch guns
150 x 25 mm AA guns
4 x 13 mm AA guns
4 x 21-inch submerged torpedo tubes

Armor:
625 mm on face of turrets
390 mm side armor
200 mm armored deck

Sorry, no IC post today, kids. :D

I'll post tomorrow... er, later today (it's 2:35 AM here in Riverside, CA, hehe).

Northwest of Cape MacMillan, off the coast of Sentry Island

Admiral Singer kept one eye on the ocean, and another on the radar as the Ninth Fleet churned toward the Cape. The sound of two jets launching from one of the split decks of the Arkadia roared from beneath him before shooting into the cloudy skies.

((“Maaaaaaaverick!” ;) ))

As the next two jets were loaded onto the VTOL launch pad, the Admiral turned away from the the sea and radar long enough to look back over the fleet at his command...

((yes, this is a cheesy way to get the basics of my fleet in the posting. ;) ))

Larkinian Ninth Battle Fleet

(A cursory overview)

Aircraft/Aerodyne Carriers complete with 105 aircraft, 25 helicopters, 6 military transport Aerodynes
LSS Arkadia
LSS Niven
LSS King James
LSS Jeff William
LSS Robert Fortier
LSS Shogun

Destroyers
LSS Intrepid
LSS Rising Sun
LSS Crusade
LSS Guardian
LSS Lyonne
LSS Didier
LSS Richard Tri
LSS Defender
LSS Victory
LSS Hoot Gibbson
LSS Seawolf
LSS Dreadnought
LSS Battlefront
LSS Wharton
LSS Alpha Eagle
LSS Golden Agate

Cruisers
LSS Katana
LSS Constellation
LSS Faraday
LSS Ninja
LSS Sonshi
LSS Botany Bay
LSS Picraux
LSS Sean Reed
LSS Mithril
LSS Valor

Amphibious Assault
LSS Event Horizon
LSS Pelican
LSS Badlands
LSS Lodoss
LSS Stampede
LSS Andreesen

Sixth Submarine Group
LSS Defiance II
LSS Jauron
LSS Nautilus
LSS Kraken
LSS Leviathan
LSS Perseus
LSS Poseidon
LSS Davey Jones
LSS Bullhead
LSS Untouchable
LSS Silent Death

(My word, I so don't remember writing or even thinking about that post! *Tries to shake-off a mother of a hangover* Oh dear, this could be the end for WoS if we insist on joining the Ians wars. So many ships! Such fancy aircraft! Walmingtonians still refuse to believe that helicopters are physically possible, and put photographic evidence down to Hollywood trickery.

Well, having come to make a post, and seeing that I'd already made a different one, I might just take this opportunity to talk about our ships, because, well, I signed in for something, eh? It probably won't matter, because everyone will ignore/steam right over Walmingtonian ships, or get everything done before they ever make it to an event, but whatever, you can just skip this post, since it's likely to be far more self-indulgent than is proper in another player's thread!)


The Royal Walmingtonian Navy is hampered, despite the nation's status as an island with an over-seas empire and one with a proud British heritage, by a long habit of leaning on the British Royal Navy, as Walmington's empire has always traditionally supported British causes and been itself supported in return.

In the 1930s and '40s it looked as if the RWN was slowly becoming a world-class fighting navy, but the last decade has seen neglect that is largely due to the massive cost of air and land war against the United States.

With the American war ended in disgrace, the RWN is again dedicated usually to transporting troops in quick time to deal with colonial unrest. Since the navy expects usually to deal with very much grounded rebels, it has many fast troop-transports and an obvious lack of escorts. Big gun-and-armour ships are maintained in a usually semi-active state for the event of war with a foreign naval power, but these too are often expected practically to be used for gun-boat diplomacy in the empire and against ill-respected 'native kingdoms' on its fringes: Great Walmington favoured the over-land capture of port facilities and the aerial attack of support facilities to ship-on-ship engagement in the American conflict.

In time of war, many transport vessels are fitted with ex-army guns such as anti-tank guns and howitzers, but the fast ships have limited appliqué armour and rarely boast significant fire-control systems.

Walmington thinks ill of submarine warfare, deploys sea-mines only in a limited defensive capacity, and -after the unfortunate destruction of the Marigold Tea Rooms in Norbray- abandoned most of its guided-rocketry projects.

RWN Warship Strength- 67 from corvettes to capital ships

Corvettes- 16
HWMS (names unavailable, but hulls designated C-1 to C-16)

Destroyers- 14
HWMS Stockshire, Southshire, Dolly, Thresher; Longevity, Infamous, Constant, Magical, Quixotic; Hare, Falcon, Mount Street, Slope Way, Park Street

Light Cruisers- 8
HWMS Kenilworth, Brighton, Pelagian, Hancock, Cymric, Lesotho, Togo, Sao Tome

Heavy Cruisers- 12
HWMS Hansen, Triumphal, Marwood, Deepdale; Henry, Admiral Coney, Tarriff, Raven, Rock Dove, Kite, Wendsleybury, Alexander Vale

Battlecruisers- 4
HMWS Eastgate, Brixton, Alexandra, Eden

Pocket Battleships- 1
HWMS Royal Oak

Battleships- 5
HWMS King Godfrey I (The Good Godfrey), Queen Mavis (The Merry Mave); Indefatigable, Mainwaring, Churchill

Escort Carriers-4
HWMS Sparrow, Newry, Stanley, Bishop

Fleet Carriers- 3
HMWS Phoenicia, Carthage, Minos

(Many names are the subject of intense debate, and it seems likely that some of those named for famous people, both Walmingtonian and foreign, are likely to be renamed at the earliest opportunity.)

To NPIG-
HWMS Deepdale, Marwood
HWMS Kenilworth
HWMS Dolly; Infamous, Constant

Ceyloba station-
HWMS Sparrow, Bishop
HWMS Royal Oak
HWMS Alexandra, Brixton
HWMS Brighton, Pelagin
HWMS Magical, Quixotic, Stockshire, Southshire, Hare
Several corvettes patrol between Ceyloba and Madagascar.


The fastest ships are the five Falcon Class destroyers, with an official capability for 37.5 knots under ideal conditions. These 2,109 ton ships have four 4" guns in three turrets, six 21" TT above water, DT throwers plus rack, three 2pdr and five 2x1" AA guns.

The Gull Class corvettes have one 4" gun, two 2x2pdr and three 2x1" AA guns, 285lb DTs, and a 58lb ASuW mortar.

The Kentonshire Class light cruisers actually weigh over 11,000 tons full, but have maximum 3.75" armour and only nine 6" guns in three turrets. Six 4" DP guns and six 21" TT enhance the armoury a little, along with four DT throwers and an impressive AA battery including six radar-guided 2pdrs in an armoured turret aft, six single-mount 2pdrs, twelve 2x1" guns, and six .55" machineguns.

The most modern ships are eight Wayner Class heavy cruisers (Wayners, to the average sailor), which displace 13,709 tons full and carry a crew of 831 officers and men. A top speed of 33.7 knots and armour up to 6" combine with eight 8" guns, eight 4" DP guns, sixteen 2pdr and twelve 2x1" AA guns and the most modern fire-control radar available to Walmington.

The remaining four heavy cruisers are the unusual Chaspot Class, which displace some 18,800 tons and are crewed by 1,109 people. Armour is up to 7" on the belt and 8.7" on the face of the three main turrets, which mount a total of nine 8" guns. Six 4" DP guns and four 21" TT provide secondary armament, and AA defence is by eight 2pdr, twenty 2x1", and twelve .55" guns.

The Eden Class battlecruisers displace 31,333 tons and carry 1,374 hands. They beat 30 knots, and have a maximum of 14" of armour on the turret faces. Nine 12" and twelve 6" guns are the primary and secondary batteries, and the AA battery has sixteen 2pdr, twenty-four 2x1" guns, and ten .55" machineguns.

The Royal Oak is, of course, an ancient Iansislian battleship refitted several times, exhausted, costing a fortune to maintain, and low in the water after too much up-armouring. It has eight 12" guns in its main battery, and weighs almost twenty thousand tons.

The Sparrow Class escort carriers are converted merchant vessels displacing just over 17,000 tons at full load. They are somewhat slow at 19 knots, but driven by a single shaft even this is sometimes a strain. They have wooden flight decks (though 6.5" thick), but are reasonably well armed with two 4" guns, two 3" DP guns, eight 2x1" and twelve 2pdr guns. They have one catapult, and up to 22 [piston-engine] aircraft including Wasp biplanes, and Nexus fighters and ASuW/AEW conversions.

All five battleships and three fleet carriers have remained in the Atlantic to defend against American, German, Russian, and other threats, usually considered dormant but thought dangerous in light of Walmingtonian distraction in the Pacific/Gallaga.

(Okay, sorry, I'm done :) If WoS's squadron to the North Pacific is intercepted or sent to join an operation, or if Gallaga is assaulted, now y'know what WoS can do about it. Though it's entirely possible that nobody gives a darn. Note also that Ceyloba has a substantial Army presence and several aerodromes (though often with older type aircraft).)

Message To: Herr Charles Bradsworth of Iansisle
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Queen Jessica II, High Queen of the Shield and its Dominions
Message RE: The Nature of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government Toward Your Affairs

Herr Bradsworth,

By now it has become clear of the true opinion of Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Friedelinde Alderman I, and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government in regards to your self-proclaimed and illegal government in the domains of the Most Honored and Esteemed House Callahan. Her Imperial Majesty, and indeed the entire Congress of Lords, are of one mind and one voice in this regard. The “government” of the so-called Gull Flag Republic is an entity that has seized control of the Shield through an illegal coup against the one true and rightful government of the Shield and its peoples, that of the High King Ian, represented by the Honorable and Competent Regency of the High Queen Jessica II.

It would give no greater satisfaction in Her Imperial Majesty’s and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government’s sense of justice to see all those responsible for the actions of this coup and the cold, calculated murder of His Royal Majesty, the High King James, tried and summarily put before the ultimate justice of the firing squad. However, Her Imperial Majesty is both wise and in her own nature benevolent. You are to be given one chance to renounce the titles acclaimed to yourself by this illegal government and step aside to allow for the return of the one legitimate and true government of the Shield, that of the High King Ian, within three weeks. After doing this you will leave Iansisle forever, Her Imperial Majesty will ensure that this exile is enforced in a way no Shieldean authority ever could. This offer of amnesty also applies to your self-proclaimed and self-trumpeted ministers, excluding the man known as Lawerence Madders. For his crimes against the true state of the Shield and for those against his fellow men, Herr Madders will be tried by a tribunal selected by the Regency to accept the justice of the Shieldean government for his crimes.

This is your one chance at salvation and life, Herr Bradsworth. Reject this offer, benevolent on the part of Her Imperial Majesty beyond belief, and Her Imperial Majesty will commit all the resources of her realm to the cause of having this illegal republic destroyed and see to it that the fathers of this bastard child among nations know the justice that comes when the guns sound the final call of life. There will be no safe haven to be found, no sanctuary to be shouted for in hallowed halls, you will die—with God as our witness.

Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler

“It seems that, for all their impressive titles, our friends the Valinor do not read the newspaper,” remarked Ben Rinehart to himself, pouring over the letter forwarded to him by the foreign office. “‘Dear Herr Bradsworth’ indeed.”

That statement gave Rinehart some pause. Heavy weighed the responsibility of the Republic on his aged shoulders. And Bradsworth -- imagine running off and leaving your own creation in its darkest hour! With every new crisis, Rinehart began to curse Bradsworth just a little bit more.

He forced himself back to considering Reinstadler’s letter. A response would be needed to this, of course -- a public one. He would have to send it off to IanCorp, this letter from Valinon. It would make great copy: the ignorant interstellar bully with his sights set on destroying the freedoms of the Republic. Yes, that was perfect.

Mister Reinstadler,

The Iansislean Republic is governed by the Assembly elected fairly and openly by the People United and bound by the Constitution of 1953, which was approved by People in a nationwide referendum. How any power can think that the Jameston government was established by an ‘illegal coup’ or indeed is ‘self-proclaimed defies logic. National sovereignty is derived only from the People and wielded only on their approval.

In stark contrast, you would wish to reimpose an archaic and tyrannical regime upon a People who quite clearly rejected it. That proposition, Mister Reinstadler, must unequivocally be rejected by this Republic as representative of the People.

Should you attempt to intervene by force of arms, you will find the hearty Shieldian people a resolute and formidable enemy, as indeed the Effitians already have and the pompous Valerians soon will. After all, we have little to fear from those who cannot even be bothered to correctly address their missives. However, the Republic does not wish a war with Valinon: we merely wish the right to govern in peace those people who have fairly elected us as we see fit. In executing the sovereign power granted the Assembly by the People United, there can be no compromise.

In faith,

Benjamin Rinehart
Premier Interim of the National Assembly

The Valinor letter and the Shieldian response hit the presses in the next edition of the Star-Tribune. Just as the country had rallied behind the flag in response to the Effitian and Valerian threats, once again popular opinion swung behind the Republic and its leaders: foreign crises were serving the Jameston government well in keeping the populace distracted from the hyperinflation and impending famine.

((I really hate the weekends leading up to finals; I never seem to have any time. Anyway, here's Valinon's response...I have the others in my head, but I need to fly me away to sleep >.<))

((Don't worry, I'm still here. Finals week just declared war on me, that's all. =) I'm finishing up one of my final portfolios tonight; after that, I should be able to post again. Sorry about the delay, guys!))

(OOC: Don't worry about it. Good luck on your finals.)

Skyhawk One, West of Cape MacMillan

“Skipper,” Chief Ernest Pakalns said, twisting his head to look forward towards the pilot, “we have three airborne contacts, converging and moving generally in our direction.”

LT JG Trevor Cooke involuntarily gripped the stick a little more tightly. “I think we’ve been spotted, Chief.”

“Roger that, Skipper.”

Cooke activated his mic. “Rover Leader. Skyhawk One. Over.”

“Skyhawk One. Go.” Came a familiar static filled voice.

“Rover Leader. We have uninvited guests.”

“Roger, Skyhawk One. Rover Three and Four are trying to get better visuals on the buckets, but the rest of us are en route to your location. Over.”

The Spirit's powerful nose-mounted radranger, activated soon after takeoff, picked up the squadron detected by the Robotic ships.

"Make it at least six unidentified contacts," reported her wireless operator. "At least fifty miles outside our aerospace, but closing."

The Spirit, which was lost in the great grey clouds which hung over the Skull, and the Gelderlanders, who played gracefully in the great sunlit sky above the clouds, received the same orders. They were to monitor and report on the actions of the Excalbian craft, to close if they penetrated Iansislean aerospace, and not to engage unless fired upon.

Meanwhile, Skyhawk One picked up additional surface contacts: the destroyers in the van of the Battlecruiser Fleet coming up to support the action in the Western Marches.

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

Lord Walters held the Iansislean captain’s gaze as he spoke. The Minister of State nodded. “Naturally we realize, Captain, that you will need to refer this matter to your home government.”

The Minister folded his glasses and put them back on the table. “As for what constitutes appropriate steps, that will, of course, be a matter of discussion. Our initial expectation would be something akin to what the United Star Empire has demanded – the restoration of the House of Callahan in the person of High Queen Jessica and a suitable act of contrition on the part of the republican government.”

Lord Walters held up a wrinkled hand. “Now, Captain, please be clear in speaking with your government, we are not calling for the dissolution of the republican government nor the punishment or exile of its leaders. Rather, we would hope that reasonable beings could come to some reasonable agreement. Perhaps the restoration of a constitutional monarchy with clearly defined limits on royal authority and a public acknowledgement that the… execution… of High King James was motivated by passion rather than justice and a pledge to take steps to better protect those charged with crimes, even high crimes and treason, from being judged on the basis of populist passions rather than reasonable jurisprudence.

“However, I do not necessarily expect the current government in Ianapalis to agree to unconditionally to all these steps at this time. Rather, I think even a publicly stated willingness to concede the… impolitic nature of the High King’s execution and to engage in negotiations with all interested parties, including the rightful heir to the throne, would be enough to begin talks.”

"I will do my best to convey your suggestions to my government," said Captain Ransglen. There was, however, a hardening in his black eyes as he held Walters' eyes.

"However, I do not suspect that the Republic will be able to comply with these requests, sir. Public opinion is currently very much against the monarchy, even it were a constitutional and toothless one. While passion may, in excess, be a hinder to the execution of policy, nonetheless the Republic was founded and based upon the sovereign right of the people to determine their own fate. Even the Jameston government does not have the right to alter the constitution: that would have to be submitted to the people in referendum."

Ransglen stood up and placed his peaked cap back on his head.

"It has been a pleasure meeting with you, sir, and I will be sure to pass your requests on as quickly as possible, but I'm afraid my duties call me away. The Admiralty has recalled me to Ianapalis, sir, since our official mission here has been canceled, and I've much to do before I can make my way back to the Shield."

Ianapalis, The Gull Flag Republic

“Your Excellency,” he said, following his instructions to use traditional titles for minister-level officials, “thank you for seeing me; I only wish that my visit could come under more pleasant circumstances.” The Director was certainly not as Everett imagined him, but again, he refused to let his surprise show.

“There’s no need for that ‘excellency’ nonsense, Secretary Everett,” said the Director. “Mister de Fenne was good enough for my father and it’s good enough for me.”

“His Imperial Majesty through His Imperial Majesty’s Government has directed to inform you, your Excellency, that the Holy Empire is aware of both the Magnus Valerian declaration of war and the United Star Kingdom’s ultimatum to the Gull Flag Republic. He is also aware that the Republic’s naval forces have detected the presence of an Imperial battle squadron in international waters off your coast.

“His Imperial Majesty wishes the Republic to know that while he and his government are incensed at the execution of High King James and share in the international community’s condemnation of this deed, it is not his intention that his naval forces become engaged in hostilities at this time. His Imperial Majesty’s Government, therefore, is informing both the Republic and the Grand Empire that our ships are neutral and is requesting that both sides respect their neutrality.

“In addition, while the people of Excalbia share His Imperial Majesty’s revulsion and are demanding further action through the Imperial Senate, His Imperial Majesty is sympathetic to the difficult times facing the people of Iansisle and greatly desires to spare them from the repercussions of the Republic’s actions in regard to the High King. Therefore, His Imperial Majesty’s Government has been instructed to offer its good offices to work towards a negotiated resolution to the current crisis. Provided, of course, that the Republic is prepared to demonstrate its good faith to the international community.”

“My esteemed colleagues in the War Office have been rather worried about your vessels,” said de Fenne. “I am relieved to learn that Excalbia harbors only non-belligerent ill-will for the Republic. It is the policy of all our armed forces never to fire the first shot in a conflict: so long as our territorial waters and aerospace is respected, we will tolerate your battlefleet in the Marches. However, I am bound to inform you that the Admiralty is perpetually worried about a hostile fleet passing the Straits: they will doubtlessly be keeping a careful eye on your fleet.

“As for the matter of a negotiated settlement with Magnus Valerius: the Republic would be amenable to a diplomatic solution to the current crisis. Whether or not the Valerians will sit down is quite another matter. From what I hear of our former mission to Valerius, Alexander III is downright unstable: a paranoid tin-plated dictator with an arrogance matched only by his incompetence. Somewhat typical of a heriditary monarchy, if you'll forgive me for saying so. I'm afraid that one must take the chaff with the wheat in that genetic game of chance."

de Fenne coughed into his hand slightly: it was clear that he painted Excalbia's monarchy with much the same brush as the Valerian Empire and was, by a desire to be slightly diplomatic, only just containing himself from saying so.

"To be quite honest, the Republic does not consider Valerius to be a credible threat to either its integrity or its interest. Your average Valerian has a lot of Cossack bluster, but that same amount of Russian blundering. There may be a good many of them running about, but they cannot mount a credible threat to a modern Navy and Flying Corps such as ours.

"However, I suspect that I am wandering off topic, Secretary. I am curious as to what your Emperor would consider a show of ‘good faith.’”

OOC: Damn... As I was creating my ship classes the other day I realized that my battleship classes were smaller than my battlecruiser classes. Sorry if it’s like god modding, but I changed the Dreadnought Mk. VIII to something a little bigger.

Anyway, sorry for the delay! Midterms… they sure are a pain. Of course, partying also took up my time too. :)

Let’s see. I smoked hookah and drank beer Monday. On Tuesday, me and my friends went out to buy Del Taco, then joined up with other friends to smoke more hookah, then went to some abandoned, haunted house near the dorms, and finally got drunk off vodka and a little bit of rum and soju. Crazy night last night. Yesterday I was reeling with a hangover, hahaha.

I'll post more later to give the status of Magnus Valerius' invasion forces in their journey to the various different locations in Iansisle and her colonies. :)

IC:

The Weshield Strait

As the Good Fortune sailed lazily towards the entrance to Troobodia Bay, the unarmed commerce vessel game under the sights of an Iansislean sloop. The merchantman, with its cargo of several tons of bananas and other assorted tropical fruits and foodstuffs, had smooth sailing until now. When the Halswick trained its guns on the defenseless ship, Ardashir Ergil, its owner and captain, cried out in dismay. “By Ahriman! Ahura Mazda save me! Can’t I make a decent living? Why do things like this always happen to me?!” Ardashir thought that it was a misunderstanding. Why would an armed vessel want to bring Ardashir off course when the Good Fortune is obviously not armed; it was no commerce raider. It was also obvious that the sloop was not controlled by pirates; pirates operating in national waters would have to be either the stupidest or boldest pirates in the entirety of the Pacific Ocean. Perhaps the Halswick was the local admiralty, here to collect dues or to inspect the cargo.

Kydonian produce is of high quality and known for fine, exquisite tastes. The plantations in the Valerian state of Kydonia, in operation for centuries, have perfected the art of growing bananas, sugarcane, spices, and the like, coming up with new, tasty strains of fruits and foodstuffs. Kydonian bananas are nutritious, filling, have a long shelf life and fetch fairly high prices (for bananas), even in the domestic Valerian market. A pound of Kydonian bananas could go for up to 3 Valerian Crowns (OOC: ~$5.40 US, at the current Crown exchange rate), but the domestic prices are currently at VC1.25, Ardashir was hoping that pawning off this shipment in Iansisle will earn him a better profit, but he is unaware of the hyperinflation occurring in the Shield as of late. Such bananas also can flourish in a variety of environments, although they are best suited for the wet, warm weather of Kydonia.

Seeing as he had no other options available to him, Ardashir decided to pull the Good Fortune astride to the sloop, GFS Halswick. To ensure that the other ship’s guns didn’t ‘accidentally’ fire upon the Good Fortune, Ardashir had his crew hoist a white flag. The ship slowed down and drifted up to the sloop, although no one on board the Good Fortune would expect the Ians to board the ship.



The Imperial Palace, Isangrad
Feodor Gagarin’s Office
2210 Pasquale Lane

The Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, Feodor Gagarin, came upon an interesting letter of note from Excalbia, a power without much renown in Magnus Valerius (then again, Magnus Valerius has little renown anywhere and has been diplomatically distant from the world for the past century and a half or so). Feodor Gagarin reviewed the letter with keen interest, taking a couple of minutes after opening up the letter from its ivory-colored envelope.

The Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius

Your Excellency,

On behalf of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, I would like to ask that you accept an emissary from the Holy Empire of Excalbia to discuss the current crisis in Iansisle. It is His Imperial Majesty’s belief that both our governments share a common revulsion at the Iansislean revolutionary government’s judicial murder of High King James of the Shield.

However, as your government has declared war on Iansisle, I must inform you that we have several non-belligerent ships off Iansislean waters. We trust that both sides will respect the current neutrality of our naval vessels.

Respectfully,

Lord William Walters,
Minister of State

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II


“A foreign envoy,” murmured Gagarin to himself. The thought of diplomatically coordinating pressure on the Gull Flag Republic brought a certain confidence to Gagarin, who feels that the tsar was brushing him and all other niceties of foreign policy aside. Gagarin quickly wrote a letter in response to Excalbia.

Minister of State,
The Holy Empire of Excalbia

Dear Lord William Waters,
It would be an honor for Magnus Valerius to host an envoy from your nation. As you know, our tsar and unquestionable overlord Alexander III, Autocrat of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven, has declared war on the Gull Flag Republic, hoping to return order and restore the Callahans to their rightful place as kings and queens of The Grand Empire of the Shield. We are hoping to revive Iansisle and execute the ‘revolutionaries’ who have overrun their country. A certain party hack by the name of Madders, if captured, will be branded as an enemy of the state of Magnus Valerius, and promptly executed in a fitting manner.

While you hold no belligerence in this plight, we would like to request for you assist us in supplies and convoy escorts if the need should arise. If you refuse, we would not be offended, although regardless, we appreciate any diplomatic backing and humbly respect your ships’ neutrality in this conflict.

Sincerely Yours,

Feodor Gagarin
Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs




The Valerian Imperial Navy

Magnus Valerius, plain and simple, is a maritime power. Since the capture of overseas territories from Magnus Valerius proper, the Grand Empire has taken great efforts to maintain a large navy to keep the provinces connected to the Empire and to protect them from any aggressors. The original Imperial Fleet was created by Tsar George III in his effort to control the Kuric Sea, commissioning the construction of many galleys and ships to ensure that the Empire’s rivals in the region do not have a decisive advantage over the once land-based empire. In 1952, when the Sasukuoan War broke out, Magnus Valerius’ fleet came under its first major challenge. The fleet was taken on by surprise by Sasukuo’s capital ships. The war dragged on, but eventually, Valerian engineers launched effective ship designs that crushed Sasukuo’s hopes on annexing Nova Venezia.

The ships in Magnus Valerius are made with the utmost quality in mind. Strict engineering codes go into the design and construction of ships; any steel company that supplies sub-par steel to the Valerian Imperial Fleet is reprimanded severely. The Valerian Imperial Navy (or VIN for short) has one motto: bigger is better. The navy consists of many ships and these ships are often large bruisers. The Ivan I class of battleships (also called Velikiy Dreadnought or “Great Dreadnought”) that is to replace the Dreadnought Mk. VIII class is a fast, floating bastion, and the pride of Valerian naval engineers.

OOC: Numbers are subject to change... heh.

VIN Warship Strength - 122 ships total

Destroyers - 32
HMS Abrov, Paskevich, Petr Pavel, Lisht, Romanov, Alai, Tsarevich, Borivich, Sheansea, Linderry, Markos, Eleftherios, Vassilev, Reichstadt, Duke, Prince of Metashas, Wellington, Lakhail, Lucky, Ioann, Karen, Lion, Eaglet, Pyotr, Claire, Sparrow, Domnall, Korov, Grigori, Tambov, Kyrill, Tiger

Light Cruisers - 17
HMS Bombadier, Grenadier, Sharps, Radford-upon-Vedus, Vedus, Thiese, Cambridge, Kingsford, Port Persepol, Tabrizian Pride, Glory, Swift, Hardrada, Orca, Tamarind, Costas

Heavy Cruisers - 12
HMS Tabriz, Elizabeth, Duchess, Bélagrad, Victoriania, Diomedes, Arnach, Victorialis, Didon, Seymour, Nandan, Stremov

Battle Cruisers - 10
HMS Theodoric X, Matador, Steltsy, Islander, Charleroi, Jean-Charles, Ivanov, Lovosice, Boii, Alemanni

Battleships (Dreadnought Mk. VIII class) - 15
HMS Magnus Valerius, Petrovgrad, Gustav I, Viktoria Velikaya, Svetlana, Sankt Pavel, Meijis, Gothania, Trikoupes, Deliyannes, Alexandria, Molotov, Baden, Vedui, Uhlandria

Ivan I Class Battleships (under construction) - 7:
HMS Ivan I, (Hannibal), (Hanno), (Hamilcar), (Trajan), (Valens), (Ioann Choglokov)

Aircraft Carriers - 4
HMS Caesar Augustus, Sankt Valerian, George I, Shorehaven

Submarines - 25
HMS Bantu, Prowler, Shark, Great White, Sandhead, Snake, Huntress, Artemis, Bowyer, Torquemada, Wolf, Baron, Vincent, Pavlovsk, Sousa, Victory, Assassin, Mikhail, Lomonosov, Tigranes II, Phillip III, Jaeger, Knight, Archibald IV, Valens II

-----

Here is the rundown of Magnus Valerius' ship classes. Each ship has radar technology, although the best radar systems are found in the VIN's destroyers and submarines.

Caesar Augustus Class Aircraft Carriers: The Caesar Augustus class of air carriers are massive ‘floating islands’ that can carry a significant squadron of planes, fighters and bombers. The ship is fast for its size and can dominate the seas if supported by other ships.
Displacement: 32,100 tons
Length: 845 ft.
Beam: 85 ft.
Draft: 29 ft.
Speed: 34 knots
Complement: 1,620 men
Armament:
16 5-inch guns
90 25mm guns
Aircraft:
87 planes

Dreadnought Mk. VIII: The standard for Valerian battleships. Once based off the old British HMS Dreadnought, the ship design has been improved upon several times. The dreadnought is considered to be the pride and joy of the Valerian Navy, and with merit too: the ship design is highly seaworthy and battle-worthy. The word, 'dreadnought', is also an epithet for battleship in Magnus Valerius.
Date of Design: 2011
Displacement: 50,500 tons
Length: 824 ft.
Beam: 100 ft.
Draft: 30 ft.
Speed: 23 knots
Complement: 2,100 men
Armament:
6 16-inch guns
16 x 6 inch guns
8 x 4 inch guns
6 x 3 inch AA guns
3x 21-inch torpedo tubes
Armor:
Sides: 220mm
Deck: 140mm
Turrets: 310mm

Ivan I Class Battleship (A.K.A. Velikiy Dreadnought): An experimental battleship that is a gargantuan fortress on the seas. Currently, the only V. Dreadnought is the HMS Ivan I, which is preparing to sail to Iansisle's colonial possessions. The ship is heavily armed and armored.
Date of Design: 2038
Displacement: 72,000 tons
Length: 862.5 ft.
Beam: 121 ft.
Draft: 36 ft.
Speed: 25.75 knots
Complement: 2,650 men
Armament:
10 x 17 inch guns
8 x 6 inch guns
16 x 5 inch guns
150 x 25 mm AA guns
4 x 13 mm AA guns
4 x 21-inch submerged torpedo tubes
Armor:
625 mm on face of turrets
390 mm side armor
200 mm armored deck

Theodoric X class Battlecruiser: The Theodoric X battlecruiser class is a class of ‘fast battleships’ in Magnus Valerius. These battle cruisers are perfect for catching up with smaller ships such as destroyers and then blasting them away.
Date of Design: 2032
Displacement: 31,600 tons
Length: 795 ft.
Beam: 90 ft.
Draft: 30 ft.
Speed: 34 knots
Complement: 1,800 men
Armament:
6 15-inch guns
8 4-inch guns
8 4-inch AA guns
24 40mm guns
8 20mm guns
8x 21-inch torpedo tubes
Armor:
Sides: 120mm
Deck: 100mm
Turrets: 200mm
Aircraft:
4, with one dual catapult

Tabriz class Heavy Cruisers: The Tabriz class was designed with destroyer-hunting capabilities to clear the way for the submersibles of the Valerian Imperial Fleet. Although too light to hold ground against battle cruisers, the Tabriz class is capable of overwhelming smaller ship classes.
Date of Design: 2040
Displacement: 18,500 tons
Length: 690 ft.
Beam: 72 ft.
Draft: 26 ft.
Speed: 33 knots
Complement: 1,600 men
Armament:
10x 8 in guns
10x 4 inch guns
10x 40mm guns
8x 35mm guns
8x 20mm guns
12x 21-inch torpedo tubes
Armor:
Sides: 80mm
Deck: 60mm
Turrets: 160mm

Bombadier class Light Cruisers: The Bombadier class is an old design that is to be replaced soon. Even though it may be old, it is still a sturdy work of naval engineering, fast and capable.
Date of Design: 2029
Displacement: 9,950 tons
Length: 605 ft.
Beam: 65.8 ft.
Draft: 20 ft.
Speed: 33 knots
Complement: 980 men
Armament:
12x 6-inch guns
12x 5-inch guns
26x 40mm guns
14x 20mm guns

Sheansea class Destroyers: A class of destroyers with advanced submersible hunting technology, the Sheansea class is fitted with the highest standards of radar in Magnus Valerius, making them particularly deadly against subs. Even so, the class still suffers in that the ships are not as fast as they could be.
Date of Design: 2037
Displacement: 3,790 tons
Length: 380 ft.
Beam: 52 ft.
Draft: 13 ft.
Speed: 30 knots
Complement: 280 men
Armament:
3x twin 4.5 inch guns
2x twin 40mm guns
1x anti-submarine mortar
5x 21-inch torpedo tubes


Bantu Class Submarines: The Bantu class of submarines is a successful design that proves its point against would-be commerce raiders operated by pirates. It is also effective against capital ships as its testing stages demonstrated, packing a punch with a load of 24 torpedoes. The Bantu class can stay submerged underwater for prolonged periods of time; at most, the crew could sustain themselves below water for up to three or four days.
Date of Design: 2039
Displacement:
Above Water: 1630 tons
Submerged: 1830 tons
Length: 258 ft. overall, 202 pressure hull
Beam: 19 ft. pressure hull, 28 ft. overall
Draft: 23 ft.
Height: 40 ft.
Speed: 18 knots surfaced, 17 knots submerged
Complement: 60 men
Maximum Depth: 672 ft.
Armament:
6x 21-inch torpedo tubes with a load of 24 torpedoes

The Central Pacific, Approaching the North Pacific

The HMS Caesar Augustus rolled along the lapping waves of the Pacific Ocean. The original invasion force to be sent to Iansisle, deemed too small to make an impact at first, awaited for the second wave of forces to merge and join up to make a super fleet and invasion force to try and occupy the Gull Flag Republic in order to topple the so-called 'republic' that reigned in the halls of Ianapalis. Admiral Kholmogorisky patrolled the deck of the Caesar Augustus, watching the seas, as the entire invasion fleet goes into formation.

In the transports, the troops try to find diversion, with playing cards, darts, and vodka. The Iansisleans will underestimate the capabilities of Valerian men and the determination of the army; they are skilled fighters. After all, Magnus Valerius was formed after centuries of war, so the Valerians have warrior blood in their veins. The Empire of Sasukuo found this out the hard way when they tried to surprise a Valerian garrison guarding the city of Nova Venezia, capital of the country of the same name. Then again, Valerians don't always win, and there hasn't been a significant war for a few decades.

Within this week, the fleet will arrive in the Western Marches, ready for operations and battle.

OOC:

An overview of the total numbers for the force to Iansisle proper:

Troops:
57,000 Infantry
9,000 Cossacks
8 Tanks

Ships: 43 ships total... almost half of the Valerian Imperial Navy... Larkinia made me do it. :p I'm still not sure if it's enough to beat Larkinia, though, but Valinon IC is counting on me to bring back the monarchy.

1 aircraft carrier
5 battleships
3 battlecruisers
6 light cruisers
18 destroyers
10 submarines

Ships: 43 ships total... almost half of the Valerian Imperial Navy... Larkinia made me do it. :p

((You have no idea how often I hear that... ;) "The Devil... er... Larkinia made me do it!))

((Who? Me? Try to bribe the Iansislians with food? Perish the thought. ;) And get me... The Iron Chef! ))

=P

Iansisle, even back in the days of the Grand Empire, suspected Larkinia of trying to smuggle advanced technology into the country in disregard of the self-support laws. However, so long as said technology did not actually leave the Larkinian embassy's grounds, it was impossible to even make a formal complaint to Golden Agate. So the governments, from Tarriff to Bradsworth to Rinehart, had merely turned a blind eye to the Larks, figuring it was best not to poke sleeping dogs (...too vigorously).

That Katana knew about the impending famine on the Shield would be a source of mild annoyance to a government who had been attempting to keep it quiet. However, Iansisle was not actually starving yet: supplies were reaching critical lows, with bad harvests in the north expected, but nobody was going to bed hungry. And, somewhere between Gallaga and Iansisle -- perhaps even in the path of a Valerian squadron or two -- was a convoy of Gallagamen carrying rice and other subcontinental foodstuffs back to the Shield.

------

"They've struck, sir"

Lieutenant Pete Hollander, skipper of the Halswick, was typical of the captains of Iansisle's sloop fleet. At nineteen, he had just finished serving as a midshipman on old Titan and taken his lieutenant's exam. With more than 280 ships larger than destroyers in comission, the Iansislean Navy was in a constant crunch for officers; commands in the vast second Navy, consisting of the sloops, frigates, torpedo boats, and cutters which policed the local waters and the colliers and tenders which serviced the fleet were often given to those less-qualified than those posted to the men of war proper.

As such, officers in the 'second Navy' were often eager -- even desperate -- to distinguish themselves in action. Everyone knew the story of James Redford, the young Gadsani who had taken his tiny torpedo boat into the teeth of a 3,000-ton German-financed and designed Q-ship and won while on the Northern Patrol. Now he was a Rear Admiral commanding an entire cruiser squadron.

"Sergeant Yulman," said Hollander, grinning. Could there have been a more perfect oppertunity than an enemy merchantman simply wandering into the Marches in time of war? "You may take your marines and board her. Inform her captain that she is a prize of war."

He turned to the master's mate. "Mr Jacobs, select a prize crew. After the marines have secured the ship, hoist the ensign over her colors and sail for Ianapalis. And tell her captain that I would be honored if he would join me for dinner before you sailed."

-----

((I have a scene of Hansfield and Madders discussing the Admiralty's information on the Valerian fleet planned...but for now, zzzz))

OCC: Robotstani military information Here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10879726#post10879726).

IC:

Kingston

For the government, news of the Valerian fleet's arrival in regional waters is inconvenient to the extreme, as a vote of no confidence stares the Prime Minister and his party as a whole square in the face. War is considered quite likely where it was at first a remote possibility, and the sitting government's decision not to push for a diplomatic solution is poised to take a chunk out of its face if action of some sort is not taken.

In the end, the government decides to play on the fear shared by every one of the parties, except of course for the nearly illegal Loyal Subjects Party: the return of the monarchy. The Valerians are going to invade no matter what else happens, postulates the government, and if Callahan goes, who's to stop the emboldened reactionaries from turning their guns on Robotstan's Commonwealth? Using that line of reasoning, the government is able to force through resolutions permitting increases in military and economic aid to the Gull Flag Republic, as well as Walmington On Sea. A third cruiser squadron prepares to leave Kingston, and there is even talk of sending a battleship to the other side of the water as well. Robotstani-made .303 ammunition, armored cars, artillery tractors, and even examples of the modern Ursus Universal Tank arrive on Kingston's docks and await transport to Iansisle.

Dili

Robotstan's colonial outpost of Timur, if it could even be called that, is of course gurgling with rage towards the Valerians for the same reasons that Kingston is. Its own battle-proven defense force, augmented by a quartet of RNNL light cruisers and a pair of monitors, is put on high alert and prepared for action should the Valerians try anything in that part of the world. Timurese Sea Furies and Grebes begin to patrol the shipping lanes while Timurese Marines and Auxiliaries prepare defenses on land.

(Well then, I'll change that a little later, I just jumped the gun a little bit. )

Southern tip of Sentry Island, 'rounding Cape MacMullen

Admiral Singer sat in the Arkadia's small office as he studied the latest sit-reps from Larkinian Intel and what the pilots in the advance flights had seen from the sky.

Hmm, there are going to be a lot of ships in these waters soon enough, rolled around in his mind a few minutes. He wasn't too sure what to expect from the Valerians, and if the Valinonian's (??!) decided to get involved, this could get very bloody, very quickly.

He looked down at his watch. 5:34.

Bullhead, Defiance II and Leviathan should be around the cape, he thought. The three subs had been sent ahead, ordered to run silently or wait if necessary and try to keep tabs on any naval activity in the vicinity of the Skull while the fleet was on the other side of Cape MacMillan. The Battlefront, Wharton and Niven were running behind the subs, still not through the Skull yet.

He picked up the internal phone and dialed the flight bridge.

"Yes Captain. Order each carrier to send up two squads of birds immediately. I want them to run recon over the Skull."

Skyhawk One, West of Cape MacMillan

“Skipper,” Ernest Pakalns said, looking over his shoulder towards the front of the plane, “additional surface contacts approaching the cape; they seem to be on course to join the Iansislean cruisers.”

LT JG Trevor Cooke craned his neck to look back at his radarman. “What about the aircraft, Chief?”

“They’re holding position over the cape, inside Iansislean airspace.” The chief nodded towards the ominous clouds gathering over the Skull. “They look to be nestled in those clouds over there, Skip.”

Cooke nodded and nudged his plan into a turn, circling back towards the approaching ships, while staying outside of Iansislean airspace. “Better radio this into Holy Empire, Chief.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aboard INV Holy Empire, Steaming Towards the West Coast of Sentry Island…

CAPT Harry Olofsson looked towards the threatening skies on the horizon. The gathering clouds seemed to be fitting analogy for the current situation west of Iansislean waters. He picked up a clipboard with the latest message traffic. Air patrols were tracking the Gull Flaggers’ destroyer flotilla and a cruiser squadron that was in the process of being supplemented by a newly arrived surface force. Two Imperial Navy destroyers were continuing to drive towards the Gull Flaggers’ destroyers, while New Fairfax and two destroyers were continuing towards the head of the Unsterbank Shoals. Meanwhile, the flag ship and the rest of the squadron were heading towards Sentry Island and the Weshield Straits.

So far, there was no sign that the Iansisleans had located the bulk of the squadron or detected Admiral Sorensen’s ruse. Olofsson walked over to the navigational table, then stepped over to the radar station. He nodded with satisfaction; there were no contacts on radar and rough, but clear seas ahead.

Ministry of State, Citadel Excalbia

Lord Walter studied the Iansislean military attaché’s face as he spoke. From his reaction, the Minister suspected Ransglen might be a true believer in the revolution. He had hoped the man might – as most military did in his experience – have conservative leanings and feel some residual attachment to the deposed king.

The Minister nodded. “I understand, as you say, Captain, that the Jameston government faces certain… constraints. I also understand, as does His Imperial Majesty, that successful negotiations seldom result in one side or the other attaining their maximal objectives. Rather they are about finding a tolerable middle ground.”

The Minister stood as the captain did. He offered the Iansislean his hand. “I understand your need to return to Ianapalis, Captain. I do hope however, that you will convey to your government our interest in negotiations. And I hope your government will be willing to join a search for that tolerable middle ground.”

Ianapalis, The Gull Flag Republic

“There’s no need for that ‘excellency’ nonsense, Secretary Everett,” said the Director. “Mister de Fenne was good enough for my father and it’s good enough for me.”

“Very well, Mister de Fenne,” Everett said with a nod. His instructions had said to begin with traditional titles, but they gave him the freedom to adjust as he thought best.

“As for the matter of a negotiated settlement with Magnus Valerius: the Republic would be amenable to a diplomatic solution to the current crisis. Whether or not the Valerians will sit down is quite another matter. From what I hear of our former mission to Valerius, Alexander III is downright unstable: a paranoid tin-plated dictator with an arrogance matched only by his incompetence. Somewhat typical of a hereditary monarchy, if you'll forgive me for saying so. I'm afraid that one must take the chaff with the wheat in that genetic game of chance."

Everett raised a single eyebrow at the Director’s veiled comment about the Emperor. “It is unfortunate,” the diplomat said, “whenever a single voice drowns out all opposition; whether it be the voice of a hereditary monarch or a populist rabble-rouser. That is why we have found a system of divided government and constitutional checks and balances to best fit our needs.”

"However, I suspect that I am wandering off topic, Secretary. I am curious as to what your Emperor would consider a show of ‘good faith.’”

Everett steepled his fingers and seemed to consider the Director’s question. Of course, his answer had been clearly spelled out in his instructions from the Citadel. “Well, Mr. de Fenne, of course our stated goal is to see the restoration of the House of Callahan under a democratic, constitutional government. We do recognize, of course, that a successful negotiation cannot be a complete capitulation for either side, but rather a search for a ‘tolerable middle ground.’ Therefore, I believe that His Imperial Majesty would consider it a show of good faith for your government to state its willingness to engage in negotiations with the interested parties, including the presumptive High Queen, now living in exile.”

Minister of State,
The Holy Empire of Excalbia

Dear Lord William Waters,
It would be an honor for Magnus Valerius to host an envoy from your nation. As you know, our tsar and unquestionable overlord Alexander III, Autocrat of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven, has declared war on the Gull Flag Republic, hoping to return order and restore the Callahans to their rightful place as kings and queens of The Grand Empire of the Shield. We are hoping to revive Iansisle and execute the ‘revolutionaries’ who have overrun their country. A certain party hack by the name of Madders, if captured, will be branded as an enemy of the state of Magnus Valerius, and promptly executed in a fitting manner.

While you hold no belligerence in this plight, we would like to request for you assist us in supplies and convoy escorts if the need should arise. If you refuse, we would not be offended, although regardless, we appreciate any diplomatic backing and humbly respect your ships’ neutrality in this conflict.

Sincerely Yours,

Feodor Gagarin
Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs

At Lord Walter’s direction, the Pacific Affairs Office drafted the following reply for the Minister’s approval. After his approval, it was transmitted telegraphically to Magnus Valerius.

Feodor Gagarin
Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius

Your Excellency,

Thank you for your willingness to accept an envoy from His Imperial Majesty. Sir Wayne Pygram has already been dispatched to Isangrad and should be arriving there shortly.

I also thank you for your pledge to respect the neutrality of our vessels. While I regret that we cannot, at this time, provide escort to your convoys, we are prepared to discuss the possibility of sharing information. We will, of course, offer any search and rescue assistance that may be required in international waters.

I look forward to hearing from our envoy on the progress of our discussions.

Respectfully,

Lord Walter Williams,
Minister of State

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

Just Southwest of Cape MacMillan

PNS Furious continues to steam east at a good speed, the other four cruisers and eight destroyers maintaining a neat line-ahead formation. Much to the displeasure of the Robotstani sailors, the weather had returned to normal, more or less, and the ships now contend with choppy seas under a battleship grey sky. The ships' radio detectors scan the skies and waters alongside oversized binoculars, which look for smoke on the horizon. The cruisers' radio detectors are, after all, only effective out to just beyond gun range. All of a sudden, a rate calls out from his position towards the left side of the bridge.

"Smoke on the horizon, fifteen marks off the port!"

Sure enough, a small black smudge rises above the waves off the Furious's port bow. Admiral Riasanovsky shows up within seconds, and trains another set of binoculars in the direction suggested by the rating.

"No radranger contact yet."

"Good work, Tullam. A ship indeed. But whose? Brixton, have we any reports of naval activity in the area?"

"The admiralty advises to be on the lookout for Excaliban destroyers, sah. Admiral Redford's force should be northeast of us, off the Skull."

"It very well could be a destroyer, then. Moving at speed, it appears. Alright, Mr. Marley, come about by 58 marks to port and steady course, maintain 18 knots. And Tullan, watch that contact."

"58 marks to port at 18 knots aye, sah."

"Relay to all ships; Unidentified surface contact making north at about ten leagues. All ships prepare to turn."

"Aye, sah."

Furious and her battlegroup swing northeast in good order, maintaining an 18 knot cruise. Riasanovsky means to reach the Skull and make contact with Admiral Redford's force within the day, although radio silence makes it near impossible to learn of his exact position ahead of time.

OOC: Okay, I have to get the Imperial Fleet up to par with the massive fleets of Iansisle and Larkinia… This post will be the start of that.

And if you were all waiting on me... sorry. I had two midterms last week. Good thing I'm freed up from tests this week. :)

IC:

Kydonia Shipyards
City of Kydonia

The city of Kydonia is the state capital of Kydonia, an archipelago of islands to the west of Magnus Valerius proper. Annexed to the Valerian Empire in 1462, the state has been effectively one of the most economically productive colonies of Magnus Valerius. Tropical fruits, manufacturing, shipbuilding, dye and tea plantations all thrive in this colony, which has 18,060,000 people scattered across the islands. 6,730,000 of these people are Kydonian Japanese, who once had an independent daimyo before they were annexed by the Greek-speaking Gregorians in 1132. The Gregorians in turn entered a war versus the rising Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius in 1458 (which was the 109th anniversary of the unification of the Valerian states and the proclamation of the Grand Empire). Emperor Peter IV annexed the islands to the Grand Empire. The islands remained overlooked (except for the production of tea) until the introduction of cash crops and foods such as tobacco, sugarcane, dye-producing plants (like indigo), cotton, bananas, coffee, and coconuts. This economic expansion started in 1708 under the reign of Ivan II. Valerian settlers arrived to found plantations; usually the workers on these manors were either their own large families, the native Japanese, or the descendants of Greek settlers from the Gregorian Isles.

The industrial revolution came to Kydonia along with Magnus Valerius under Valens I in 1848. Factories sprouted up in the major communities. Modern medicine to combat malaria and other diseases in the tropical environment saw a population boom, although emigration curbed the boom; the population of Kydonia remained low, under 5 million, until a rebirth in pride of the state in the early 20th century, where emigration rates essentially ceased to exist. Now, the economically booming Kydonia has a disproportionably high growth rate in comparison to the already virile numbers compared to the rest of the empire; the growth rate is around 2.5%, well above the rest of the Empire (which has a growth rate of 1.7%). This is due to a higher fertility rate in Kydonia, along with a steady supply of ethnic Valerian migrants from the mainland. Kydonia is also a liberal state, where the old constitutional monarchy imposed by Meijis I is sorely missed.

The shipyards in the city of Kydonia, a city of nearly 2 million people, have been busy since the declaration of war. They have been ordered to produce submersibles for raiding Iansislean convoys. The numerous other shipyards across the empire have been specialized by the Ministry of War (after the declaration of war on Iansisle) to produce only one class of ship to increase efficiency. Today, the first batch of submersibles were completed. The workers at the dry docks opened up bottles of champagne and began celebrating as ten submarines stood ready to be commissioned. They will go at work immediately to raid the Pacific between Iansisle and Gallaga. Since these submersibles, along with the destroyers and cruisers being completed in other shipyards, have been ordered en masse and hastily, they will not have any official names yet. They are designated as HMS SBS-1 through SBS-9.

As the submarines were manned and deployed for action, more ships across the empire reached completion. The long-awaited HMS Shorehaven, the fourth air carrier in the Valerian fleet, entered into service after being finished at the dry docks in Nikeah. Several more Ivan I class dreadnoughts also have reached completion: the HMS Hannibal, Hamilcar, Hanno, Trajan, Valens, and Ioann Choglokov have reached completion and are being manned. Two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, three destroyers, and one battlecruiser have also been completed

The Imperial Shipyards in Kydonia have started on more submarines for the war effort, and the Minister of War has commissioned more battleships and carriers as well.

OOC:
Total additions to the Valerian Imperial Navy:

+9 submarines
+6 Ivan I class dreadnoughts
+1 aircraft carrier
+1 battlecruiser
+3 destroyers
+2 heavy cruisers
+2 light cruisers

They won’t be manned and ready (except for the submarines) for at least four or more days IC.

Ships under Construction:

7 submarines
4 Ivan I Class dreadnoughts: HMS Quechua, Aztec, Maya, Iroquois
2 aircraft carriers: HMS Tsarina and Tsarevich
2 battlecruisers
4 destroyers
1 heavy cruiser
3 light cruisers


The Pacific
East of the Iansislean Philippines

The White and Blue Fleet was fast approaching the first of Iansisle’s colonies off into the Pacific and beyond. With many big ships, including the formidable HMS Ivan I, the fleet is a roving danger to the distant realms owned by the Gull Flag Republic. The Valerian infantry, loaded up and readying themselves for invasion, were anxious to finally fight and get off the transports. It had been a couple of weeks since the White and Blue fleet weighed anchor and set off for the West Pacific. Boredom began to set in, as the transports were littered with the cards, cigarette butts, and empty bottles; the troops were busy trying to pass time by playing poker and drinking away their alcohol rations.

Any Ian convoy that was passing through this water would soon find itself staring down the 17 inch guns of the HMS Ivan I, along with the numerous other guns and torpedoes amongst the fleet. The main purpose of the fleet, however, was to escort the soldiers and soften up the shoreline defenses of the colonies before the troops made landfall. The rockets loaded onto the ships and the bombers on the aircraft carrier, HMS Sankt Valerian, are expected to do a lot of that work.

The White and Blue Fleet was steaming along at 20 knots, not really picking up any steam. They should reach firing range of the northeastern shore of the Iansislean Philippines within a day and a half, which leaves little time for the Iansislean garrison in the colony to react to the sudden invasion an entire Valerian fleet. It will be a horrendous surprise, indeed, when 26,000 Valerian men, well-trained, disciplined, and ready for battle, pour out into the colony.

The commander of the White and Blue Fleet, Admiral Horatio Angelovich, was one of the most brilliant tacticians to come out of the Metashas Imperial Naval Academy in the city of Metashas. Graduated at the top of his class, Angelovich is clever, adept at naval formations and has the ability to try and assess any bad situation and decide whether or not to fight - a virtue in the art of war (for one must not always engage in battle seeking to win). General Immanuel Tan, commander of the forces to invade Iansisle’s overseas possessions, is also a capable leader. A Chinese Valerian and a native of Isangrad, General Tan was also at the top of his class from the Imperial Military Academy in Sankt Valerian. Even though he a member of a minority ethnicity in Magnus Valerius, he has earned the respect of the Valerian troops, and has their dutiful loyalty.

The day of invasion and battle is nigh on the shores of the Iansislean Philippines.

The Imperial Palace
Isangrad

The Imperial Staff has been in a stir of late. All of this is because of the proclaimed diplomatic support from the Holy Empire of Excalbia and the Valinors. Magnus Valerius, in its plight to restore the just monarchy of Iansisle, needed all of the allies it could get. The only issue would be the Tsar Alexander III's own instability. Feodor Gagarin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, feels that his abilities are curtailed by the whims of the emperor, who has taken a far-right political turn as of late; it seems as 'power-hungry demagogue' is a fitting description of the emperor.

Feodor Gagarin made preperations for the arrival of the Excalbian envoy. The diligent minister was a genius in his capabilities, who worked, like Minister of War Phillip Balmarik, tirelessly and with great skill and insight. Gagarin also made plans for the possible establishment of an Excalbian Embassy here in Isangrad (or at least in one of Isangrad's surrounding metro area communities). He has picked various spots to be the best candidates for the embassy of Excalbia. One was on Finch Street, an upscale neighborhood about a half-mile away from the Imperial Palace. The site was home to a Victorian-era office building that has seen minimal use for the past decade; the old company that once used the building moved across the River Vedus to one of the thousands of towering skyscrapers in 'New Isangrad'. The second prime site lies on top of a hill in the Saint Patrick's district of Isangrad. The hill overlooked where the tributary river, the Glamis River, merged with the River Vedus. The hill was surrounded by parks and manor houses as well. The third prime site lies in the city of Mikhailovsk Gavan, some 20 miles east of Isangrad in the Isangrad Metro Area. This site is an empty lot in the heart of Mikhailovsk Gavan, next to a plaza, some other assorted office towers, and a large park with a lake teeming with ducks (or so the locals complain).

Gagarin only hopes that his wishes are not dashed, and that Excalbia sends an embassy and possibly establishes a permanent embassy in Magnus Valerius.

Meanwhile, Phillip Balmarik, Minister of War, issued letters of marque and reprisal to several privateers with gunboats capable of taking on Iansisilean convoy ships. The main target of the pirates would be any possible resource convoys coming from Gallaga. Although Balmarik planned to send submersibles to raid those shipping lanes, he could use all the help he can get in order to cut off Iansisle from its colonies and to help starve the country into capitulation.

The Weshield Strait

The merchant schooner, Good Fortune, creaked and moaned as it moved starboard towards the GFS Halswick. Ardashir Ergil, frustrated, wondered how long this Ian ship and her crew would take in inspecting his wares and taking care of their business. As a merchant, time is money, and he wanted to get to Ianapalis with his load of several tons of Kydonian bananas before they began to grow stale.

"They better just want a shipping charge, or to check my shipping license," Ardashir bemoaned as his crew stood out on the deck, looking in the direction of the Halswick. While the ship was unarmed, her crew had access to various automatic shotguns that were stowed in the sleeping quarters. Ardashir had purchased them after his last stint with pirates when he noticed that very group of pirates came aboard his ship armed with only a few crowbars and an outmoded pistol. If the Ians were to send in marines, the crew were likely not to go and arm themselves; after all, professional soldiers could beat a rag-tag band of merchants any day of the week.

The Good Fortune blew its whistle as it pulled up to Halswick's larboard side. The crew waved as they offered the crew of the Halswick a clear path on board the merchant ship. Ardashir waited at the helm, whistling a Tabrizian folk song as he waited for the Ians to make their move.

GFS Haldsborough
Approaching the Skull

Built in 1936, the Haldsborough -- formerly Queen Jessica -- was quickly becoming the ‘old lady’ of the fleet. Although there were even a few pre-Salvador ships in the fleet (mostly ancient trawlers converted to A/S duties), none had quite the majesty of the Haldsborough, even if she was still ‘Jessie’ to most of her crew. Six fourteen inch guns in three turrets provided her heavy firepower, while two shafts and a disproportionately narrow beam gave her the speed to outrun anything that could outshoot her. However, Jessie’s armor was also notoriously thin -- a running gun battle with a German pocket battleship had put her in Vollumbo’s dockyards for most of that war -- and her narrow beam made her a particularly unweatherly ship and unstable gun platform.

“Fort MacMillan is reporting large swells and grey skies west of the Skull, sir,” said Admiral Jones’ flag lieutenant, tapping the large chart in the center of Jessie’s flag bridge. “Admiral Redford’s force is waiting for us just west of the channel.”

“And the Tenth?” asked Jones. His voice was gravely, with just a hint of a Weshielder’s drawl.

“Erm, Commodore Zimmerman reports that the Foray has still not regained contact.” There was some hesitation in the flag lieutenant’s voice, but Jones just nodded. “The Corps has Spirits up and searching, but the bulk of the Excalbian force has vanished. They were last reported heading nor-nor-east at roughly fifteen knots.”

The flag lieutenant sketched a few lines on the chart. “If they maintained speed with a due northerly course, they could be as far north as Cape Casinato; with an acceleration of five knots, they could have made it to the Minotian Bank; with an acceleration of ten knots, they may be within thirty miles of the Skull.”

“We’ll have to assume that they aren’t that far north,” said Jones, “or else a Spirit would have picked them up by now.”

“I doubt they would accelerate past twenty knots anyway, sir,” said the flag lieutenant, “awful tough on the machinery and fuel usage if they plan to stick to ‘armed neutrality.’”

“Captain on the horn for you, sir,” said a rating. Jones picked up the line.

“Admiral here.”

“Sir, we are weathering Cape MacMillan now. Smoke sighted fine on the port bow; we think it’s Admiral Redford’s cruisers.”

“Acknowledged, Captain. Have them form line ahead of flag when we are in signal range.”

--------

Ministry of State
Citadel Excalbia

The post of military attaché, as major embassies required a full post-captain and the job thus competed directly against seagoing commands, was often seen as a punishment assignment for those whom the Admiralty considered too stupid or untrustworthy for post command. Under Hansfield’s command, anyone considered even remotely reactionary (or associated with anyone considered reactionary), many of the Navy’s ‘old guard’ found themselves exiled from the Fleet, with threats of half-pay to remind them that, should Iansisle’s need for officers not be so dire, they would not even have that much.

Ransglen, who served as Sir Richard Tri’s Chief of Operations for more than a year, was one of those whose reputations had been tarnished by the former First Sea Lord’s royalist convictions. Like many of those others banished to the embassies, Ransglen thought that an excess of patriotism might free him from the shadow of Tri’s influence.

“As do I,” he said, shaking the minister’s hand. “Good day, sir.” He saluted the minister and left.

#3 Jameston Place
Ianapalis, Iansisle

Everett steepled his fingers and seemed to consider the Director’s question. Of course, his answer had been clearly spelled out in his instructions from the Citadel. “Well, Mr. de Fenne, of course our stated goal is to see the restoration of the House of Callahan under a democratic, constitutional government. We do recognize, of course, that a successful negotiation cannot be a complete capitulation for either side, but rather a search for a ‘tolerable middle ground.’ Therefore, I believe that His Imperial Majesty would consider it a show of good faith for your government to state its willingness to engage in negotiations with the interested parties, including the presumptive High Queen, now living in exile.”

de Fenne tapped his index fingers together while he considered Everett’s request, or at least pretended to. In reality, there was nothing he could do in the least to meet Excalbia’s demands.

“Jessica Callahan,” he started, trying to choose words carefully, “is an enemy of the Republic. The Assembly is the only authority on the Shield, derived from the People; Jessica and her nephew constitute an illegal government attempting to usurp power. I hope that your government will understand that, by even entering into negotiations with the Callahans, we would be undermining the people’s faith in our electoral system. It is quite impossible.”

((ooc: MV and Lark, posts are coming in a day or two. LRR, not only is a post coming, but I'm thinking about reopening one of our plot lines I had dropped a while back. Sorry about the long break, but this Saturday, I became a Real Person®, with the diploma to prove it. ^.^ Of course, I decided that the best way to celebrate my transition into the land of maturity was a weekend-long debauchery of the most puerile activities I could think of. Tomorrow I'm moving all my crap back to San Diego to get ready for Real World Work®, so I might be away for a while longer, but have more time in the long run. =) Peace, everyone!))

Captain Nummersmith's Chaspot Class heavy cruiser Deepdale had taken-over the role of flagship when Frazer and Royal Oak dropped out of formation, making more of the Admiral-cum-Governor's duties back in Ceyloba than of the ancient battleship's machinery troubles, and now lead the somewhat sorry-looking Walmingtonian deployment onwards another few hundred miles, past the scene of the Empire's first blooding in the Anti-Fascist war, and on towards the ends of the South China Sea.

Two heavy cruisers, one light, and three destroyers under the command of an unsuspecting Anti-Fascist War veteran trapped at cruiser level by recent immobility in the stagnent RWN and considering it accordingly important to do something dramatic on this rare deployment, the Walmingtonians -thanks to their destroyers- couldn't go all the way to the North Pacific without stopping, and so Nummersmith's command was soon making contact with colonial authorities as the Philippines became visible between the six warships and the rising sun.

"I'm sure that Manila won't be put out by the company of our little group." Said a Nummersmith slightly over keen to build familiarity with the crew on his new command before anything more exciting happened on their first deployment together. "And if they can't quench our girls" he added, patting a handrail on his bridge, "we certainly aren't big enough to get in the way by waiting for... that, uhm, oiler..." he trailed-off, clicking his fingers. "Osthampton." "Yes, thank you, Mr.Bridges." "Ridges, Sir." "Mh."

The Bataan Peninsula ahead, Nummersmith's vessels made 12 knots towards the South Channel into Manila bay, being in no rush to barge in without calling first. Even if they had, it'd at least be easy to identify the unusual form of the Chaspot heavy cruisers as Walmingtonian aberrations.

((ooc: MV and Lark, posts are coming in a day or two. LRR, not only is a post coming, but I'm thinking about reopening one of our plot lines I had dropped a while back. Sorry about the long break, but this Saturday, I became a Real Person®, with the diploma to prove it. ^.^ Of course, I decided that the best way to celebrate my transition into the land of maturity was a weekend-long debauchery of the most puerile activities I could think of. Tomorrow I'm moving all my crap back to San Diego to get ready for Real World Work®, so I might be away for a while longer, but have more time in the long run. =) Peace, everyone!))

((Hey! Congratulations man! Doesn't it feel great to finally have that behind you? (I've just graduated too, it feels great man!) What are you going to do in the Real World?))

((Look, stop growing up, stop it at once, both of you! (By which I mean to spread the congratulations.) At the same time, stop making the rest of us feel old.))

((Look, stop growing up, stop it at once, both of you! (By which I mean to spread the congratulations.) At the same time, stop making the rest of us feel old.))

((LOL, Thanks! But... but I'm not that young. ;) It took me 15 years to work my way through college, among the rest of life sneaking up on me..))

((Hey! Congratulations man! Doesn't it feel great to finally have that behind you? (I've just graduated too, it feels great man!) What are you going to do in the Real World?))

((That's the real question, isn't it? =P Short term, I'm going back to my old summer job while I haunt the job boards and look for an apartment. Long term, I'd like to get a career with the San Diego Zoological Society in an education-related position; I've been working for them summers for six years now, so I have a bit of an 'in'.

And congratulations to you as well! Seems like everyone I know is graduating this year! (except WoS, that ancient crumbum). To turn your own question around on you, what are you going to do Out There? =).

And yes, yes, I have posts planned. Just pulled into town after a seven-hour trip in an overloaded Toyota, so you'll have to give me a *bit* longer of a grace period =D. I'll shoot for tonight or tomorrow.))

((ooc: for MV))

Convoy DO-17A
Entering the Makassar Strait

The wars of the early twentieth century had not been kind to Iansisle’s merchant marine, formerly among the world’s largest. The declaration of war by Magnus Valerius had ended an oh-so-brief period of laissez-faire shipping and led to the reintroduction of the convoy system. However, there was still a certain amount of pride that Admiral George Rice could take when, looking from Republic’s quarterdeck, he could see merchantmen and their escorts stretching to every horizon. There were fifty-two merchant ships in DO-17A, a fast convoy of thirteen and a half knots, and the escort was heavy even by Iansislean standards. The Linhower Plan’s devotion to building up Iansisle’s light forces allowed the Admiralty to attach the light MAFD Athena to the convoy, along with seven destroyers of the Third Flotilla, the light cruiser Hector, a frigate, and three fast A/S trawlers.

The main bulwark of Convoy DO-17A was a ship not even slated to leave Gallagan waters two months ago: the GFS Republic, a ship of the line of 43,000 tons and eight 15” guns. The Republic -- formerly Prince of Shadoran -- had been on station in Gallaga for nearly two years and, despite her maintenance in Nusheld’s yards, was sorely in need of a refit. Once in Ianapalis, Rice would lower his flag as Commander Gallaga Fleet and raise a red ensign in GFS Indomitable as Commander Home Fleet. Meanwhile, once Titan finished her working up, she would raise Rear Admiral Goodman’s flag and make for Gallaga Station.

For now, however, the future Commander Home Fleet needed to ensure the safe and timely arrival of DO-17A and her smaller, slower cousin DO-17B of sixteen ships and eleven knots.

“Miner’s Fortune is signaling, sir,” said Rice’s flag lieutenant, referring to the convoy commodore’s ship. “Cauldron’s number: ‘keep better position.’”

Rice glanced briefly in SS Cauldron’s direction; she had indeed been drifting to port out of her position abaft SS Lisa Mae’s starboard quarter; too much farther out of position and she would have been in the way of GFS Legendary’s forenoon patrol. He found himself nodding in appreciation of Commodore Dulaney’s efficiency; such was to be expected, perhaps, after ten years of coordinating Iansisle’s convoys but Rice resolved nonetheless to commend Dulaney when they reached Ianapalis. Keeping more than fifty civilian ships in any sort of defensible order was quite comparable to herding cats, but there had been no major problems -- and very few minor ones -- on Dulaney’s watch.

High above the convoy, however, things were not quite as rosy. Senior Technician Palmer, NAU, stared again at the tiny screen displaying the results of his Spirit’s nose-mounted radranger. An unknown airborne blip had just appeared east-south-east of the fleet. Palmer didn’t quite register it for almost two sweeps, and then --

“Skip? I’ve got a bogey at two-seventy, bearing straight for the convoy.”

“Speed?” asked Pilot Officer Lehrer, commanding and flying the Spirit. He was already banking his mount around to face the unknown.

“Two hundred knots.”

“Give her an IFF ping.”

While the Spirit itself and the two SeaSteeds combat patrol registered as friendly, the new contact remained firmly unidentified.

“I think we had better report this one,” said Lehrer as his mount drove in on the contact at more than five hundred knots closure.

"Smoke on the horizon, fifteen marks off the port!"

Sure enough, a small black smudge rises above the waves off the Furious's port bow. Admiral Riasanovsky shows up within seconds, and trains another set of binoculars in the direction suggested by the rating.

"No radranger contact yet."

"Good work, Tullam. A ship indeed. But whose? Brixton, have we any reports of naval activity in the area?"

"The admiralty advises to be on the lookout for Excaliban destroyers, sah. Admiral Redford's force should be northeast of us, off the Skull."

Aboard INV Allen, Southwest of Cape MacMillan

LT James Baker lowered his binoculars and stepped into the destroyer's enclosed bridge. "Captain, line of approaching ships on the horizon. Radar contact confirmed."

LCDR Gunars Svensen nodded without looking up from the charts on the navigation table. "Radio New Fairfax and confirm contact. Hopefully they're Gullflaggers or Robotstani and will take us as the trailing edge of the entire squadron."

"Aye, sir," Baker replied with a nod and slight smile.

Aboard INV Holy Empire, West of Cape MacMillan

"Admiral on the deck," an Imperial Marine called out, snapping to attention. Across the bridge, the officers and crew turned towards the admiral and joined the marine at attention.

VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen nodded. "At ease, gentlemen," he said pleasantly. Then, trailed by the squadron intelligence officer, he walked towards the captain. "Status, Captain, if you please."

"Yes, my Lord," CAPT Harry Olofsson said with a slight nod. "New Fairfax reports that one of her destroyers has made contact with a new surface force approaching from the southwest. Our aerial radar reconnaissance reports that the Iansislean force off the Skull has been supplemented by a new force and that they are moving into formation, likely in prelude to beginning movement. We've had no new contacts with the destroyer flotilla, but likewise we have no indication that they have spotted us."

VADM Sorensen nodded. "Very good, Captain. Order the squadron to maintain full speed for the Weshield Straits."

"Aye, aye, my Lord."

“Jessica Callahan,” he started, trying to choose words carefully, “is an enemy of the Republic. The Assembly is the only authority on the Shield, derived from the People; Jessica and her nephew constitute an illegal government attempting to usurp power. I hope that your government will understand that, by even entering into negotiations with the Callahans, we would be undermining the people’s faith in our electoral system. It is quite impossible.”

Jameston Place, Ianapalis

John Everett held his face tight in a fixed expression of calm composure. Clearly, he thought, Lord Walter's peace initiative was going nowhere with the Iansisleans. Yet, he kept the thought to himself and responded to de Fenne's discourse with a single arched eyebrow.

"Your use of the word 'usurp' is very interesting, Mr. de Fenne," the diplomat said flatly. "While we certainly understand the political theory behind your government – that all power is derived from the people – and accept it to an extent, as a practical matter of history, the long-recognized legitimate government of Iansisle that immediately preceded your government was that of the High King. And, no disrespect, sir, but from a certain perspective your government would be the usurpers."

Everett took a quick breath. "Clearly your perspective and that of the Assembly will be sharply different from that of the High Queen and her supporters. However, negotiations are all about people with contrary perspectives sitting down in a neutral setting and seeking common ground. In the end of the day, there might be no common ground, but, Mr. de Fenne, what harm does it do the Assembly or the people to take the time to seek a peaceful solution, even if it means sitting at the same table with supporters of the High Queen? Surely that is better than rushing into war. We are not, after all, demanding that you recognize her as High Queen or make guarantees as to the outcome of the negotiations. How can sitting at a table with someone do such grievous harm to a legitimate government, sir?"

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

Sir Wayne Pygram was a tall, slender man. No one would have considered the man handsome, with his overly prominent beak-like nose, prominent high-set cheekbones and deep set eyes, yet he carried himself with such assurance and grace that he we did convey a sense of dignity. His perfectly tailored dark suit added to the atmosphere of sophistication.

Sir Wayne, a career ambassador in the Excalbian Foreign Service, was a veteran of diplomatic negotiations with a host of friendly and not-so-friendly countries – including Knootoss, Pantocratoria, Adoki, Lavenrunz and Marlund among others. So, as he stood in the airport waiting for his contact from the Valerian foreign ministry, he felt confident in his ability to accomplish his rather delicate mission. And, he thought to himself, if all goes well, I may just be opening a permanent mission here.

And congratulations to you as well! Seems like everyone I know is graduating this year! (except WoS, that ancient crumbum). To turn your own question around on you, what are you going to do Out There? =).


((Thanks! The Zoo sounds like a lot of fun! I'm still working at the paper and am in the middle of a job hunt, although the PR jobs in NM are few and far between, so it might be a while. In the meantime I'm also interning with the Office of the State Engineer, which has jurisdiction over all water dealings, and since we're in the middle of a drought... ;)

Oh yeah, and Imi's graduating next year, so WoS needs to step it up here ;) ))

Jameston Place, Ianapalis

"Your use of the word 'usurp' is very interesting, Mr. de Fenne," the diplomat said flatly. "While we certainly understand the political theory behind your government – that all power is derived from the people – and accept it to an extent, as a practical matter of history, the long-recognized legitimate government of Iansisle that immediately preceded your government was that of the High King. And, no disrespect, sir, but from a certain perspective your government would be the usurpers."

"I suppose such a position could be taken," said de Fenne. He creased half of his mouth into a smile, hoping to convey that, while he could have taken offense at the statement, he had chosen not to in the interests of diplomacy. "One would first have to assume that the ancien régime was itself a legitimate government in any sane concept of the word and that the Revolution was a coup against the rightful sovereign.

"However, no one on the Shield ever voted for James Callahan, nor for his sister, his wife, or his son. The Callahans' claim to power is derived from no legitimate authority, such as the will of the people, but rather from an elaborate mysticism which was deliberately built up around the concept of ‘the monarch’. The Revolution was a legitimate enterprise to depose of an archaic, corrupt, and illegal government. But we are not here to debate political philosophy, are we?”

Everett took a quick breath. "Clearly your perspective and that of the Assembly will be sharply different from that of the High Queen and her supporters. However, negotiations are all about people with contrary perspectives sitting down in a neutral setting and seeking common ground. In the end of the day, there might be no common ground, but, Mr. de Fenne, what harm does it do the Assembly or the people to take the time to seek a peaceful solution, even if it means sitting at the same table with supporters of the High Queen? Surely that is better than rushing into war. We are not, after all, demanding that you recognize her as High Queen or make guarantees as to the outcome of the negotiations. How can sitting at a table with someone do such grievous harm to a legitimate government, sir?"

“I’m sorry if I appear inflexible on this matter, Mr Everett,” said de Fenne, “but allow me to explain myself. The situation is not so much that I believe that the Assembly to be seriously threatened by Callahan and her reactionaries, but rather that I fear the precedent it will set for enemies of the Republic, both domestic and foreign.

“You’ll understand, sir, that there can be no question that the government in Jameston is the fully legitimate government of the Shield. Sitting down at a formal table with Jessica Callahan, who claims that we are nothing but a band of criminals and calls her nephew the ‘King of Iansisle’ would amount to a de facto admission that she has a valid point. While untrue, that implication would give an inordinate amount of propaganda to those enemies of the Republic whom I mentioned a moment ago.

“Do not mistake me for a bloodthirsty man, please, Mr Everett. Iansisle has nothing to gain and oh so much to lose from war with the Valerians. I simply do not believe that Alexander will be willing to listen to reason. I will not risk further atrocities from the extremely violent royalist minority in Iansisle on the hope that a madman can be brought to his senses. However, to demonstrate this government’s commitment to peace, allow me to make a counterproposal: if Jessica, in her capacity for ‘reagent’ or whatever such title she has taken, will publicly renounce all claims of sovereignty over Iansislean territory and recognize the National Assembly as a fully legitimate government, we will allow her to attend the peace conference.”

((ooc: sorry to anyone whose post I skipped, but I only have a bit of time tonight, and reading this made me want to respond to it!

And Lark -- I can see it now. “There is no water shortage” *waves hand* “Go back to your homes. Do not fill up your swimming pools. Reelect the governor.” =P))

"But we are not here to debate political philosophy, are we?”

((Awwww, come on guys, let me nuke 'em. I'm almost in position. After all, that's the best way to debate political philosophy ;) ))


And Lark -- I can see it now. “There is no water shortage” *waves hand* “Go back to your homes. Do not fill up your swimming pools. Reelect the governor.” =P))


((LOL, yeah! Well, it is an election year... "These are not the droids you are looking for." "I need a bigger raise..." ;P ))

((LOL, yeah! Well, it is an election year... "These are not the droids you are looking for." "I need a bigger raise..." ;P ))

((Oh, good idea on that second one..I'll have to try that on my boss! And thank everything that is holy that an election year is finally here. I can't wait to get someone competent to take office in Sacramento, if only so that my friends from Arizona will stop making fun of me. There's nothing more embarrassing than taking flak from people who live in Arizona. >.<))

((Oh, good idea on that second one..I'll have to try that on my boss! And thank everything that is holy that an election year is finally here. I can't wait to get someone competent to take office in Sacramento, if only so that my friends from Arizona will stop making fun of me. There's nothing more embarrassing than taking flak from people who live in Arizona. >.<))

((Heh heh, I can think of something worse. Like taking flak from people who live in New Mexico! ;) And every time I think our governor is laughable, I can always look to Sacramento for peace of mind.. :P ))

((Heh heh, I can think of something worse. Like taking flak from people who live in New Mexico! ;) And every time I think our governor is laughable, I can always look to Sacramento for peace of mind.. :P ))

((hah! That's certainly true enough. >.>

...now I'm sad. I'm going to bed. ;-)))

((hah! That's certainly true enough. >.>

...now I'm sad. I'm going to bed. ;-)))

((Heh, you beat me out again last night... I'll get you soon enough))

“I’m sorry if I appear inflexible on this matter, Mr Everett,” said de Fenne, “but allow me to explain myself. The situation is not so much that I believe that the Assembly to be seriously threatened by Callahan and her reactionaries, but rather that I fear the precedent it will set for enemies of the Republic, both domestic and foreign.

“You’ll understand, sir, that there can be no question that the government in Jameston is the fully legitimate government of the Shield. Sitting down at a formal table with Jessica Callahan, who claims that we are nothing but a band of criminals and calls her nephew the ‘King of Iansisle’ would amount to a de facto admission that she has a valid point. While untrue, that implication would give an inordinate amount of propaganda to those enemies of the Republic whom I mentioned a moment ago.

“Do not mistake me for a bloodthirsty man, please, Mr Everett. Iansisle has nothing to gain and oh so much to lose from war with the Valerians. I simply do not believe that Alexander will be willing to listen to reason. I will not risk further atrocities from the extremely violent royalist minority in Iansisle on the hope that a madman can be brought to his senses. However, to demonstrate this government’s commitment to peace, allow me to make a counterproposal: if Jessica, in her capacity for ‘reagent’ or whatever such title she has taken, will publicly renounce all claims of sovereignty over Iansislean territory and recognize the National Assembly as a fully legitimate government, we will allow her to attend the peace conference.”

Everett raised an eyebrow. “I would doubt, Mr. de Fenne, that the High Queen and her supporters, such as His Imperial Majesty, would accept such a precondition. Asking her to foreswear her claims to sovereignty as a precondition to negotiation would be the same as asking your government to offer its resignation before sitting down at the table; it is, I would suggest, sir, be asking the other side to capitulate before talks begin.”

The diplomat looked down at his notes, then back up at the Director. “Perhaps there could be some middle ground? We could, for instance, ask the High Queen to attend in a private capacity, rather than as a head of state and ask her to forego the expectation that you use her titles. Perhaps she could also be asked to accept a pre-negotiation declaration on your part stating that you reject her claims to sovereignty. Provided, of course, that you accept a reciprocal statement from her asserting her claims.”

OOC: Conga Rats, Ian. I’ve still got a while to go to earn my degree, being only a 2nd year and all. Then, I’ll most likely head to grad school.

But what’s this about a plane going at 200 knots? Hmm… never remembered launching one, and the invading fleet is off the coast of Luzon, a little far from Makassar, don't you think? :) The Gallagan convoy, however, might find itself under attack from a submarine squadron or some privateers. I'll write something up for my next post.

And… uh, nuke, Larkinia? Hehe… that’s a little harsh on me. The Valerians don‘t even know what the term ‘nuke‘ means. :p

IC:

Northeast Coast of Luzon
Near the Babuyan Channel, The Iansislean Philippines

It is the crack of dawn on a new day in the Philippines. Manila woke up, expecting another eventless day. Even though the whole thing about the war with the Valerians have gotten some citizens on the edge, it was likely that the war was not to affect the colonials, or some may think. The sun shone on the clear Pacific waters off the coast of Luzon, with its lush greenery taking and sandy shores taking in the sun.

The Valerians, too, woke up, out off the northeast coast of Luzon. Today, unlike for the unknowing Iansislean Filipinos, was a day of reckoning and a day of action. The HMS Sankt Valerian, the mighty aircraft carrier in the White and Blue Fleet, stood within range of the northeastern shore of the Philippines, and the crews of the planes onboard began to ready the aircraft for strikes. The nearest major city would be Tuguegarao, off inland, and the Valerians plan for a few bombing runs to soften up the city before occupying it. Before that, however, the planes are to bomb the shore so the troops could make landfall.

Admiral Angelovich met with a rear admiral to discuss sending a detachment of submarines to raid Manila’s shipping and any ships docked there. Angelovich was against such a plan, since it would weaken the fleet and leave them less able to fend off any capital ships that may want to take on the rather small White and Blues.

“I think it would be a good plan to consider. If there are ships in port, we could catch them off guard! We could make sure that our flanks are safe from any surprise ships showing up from Iansisle or one of its many allies.” The rear admiral pleaded for him to take two of the four submarines in the fleet with a battlecruiser to go and do such a task.

“Well,” Angelovich began, “that is a very tough sell. To be frank, I oppose such a plan. I’d rather have the submarines here to keep our fleet in order and formidable. Not to mention that two submarines and a battlecruiser out there on their own are vulnerable! If we lose three ships to your reckless idea, we are toast and would have to withdraw in order to replenish such losses. Besides, I am assuming that Imperial Command will send in submersible raiding fleets rather soon; I have heard that the Kydonia yards have completed a complement of submersibles, so hold your tongue.”

The HMS Ivan I, the largest battleship in the fleet, moved into place with the other dreadnoughts. Before Angelovich began arguing with one of his lower officers, he had made the order to have the ships bombard the coastlines while the troop transports prepared to reach the shoreline so that a contingent of 26,000 Valerians can deploy unto the shore. The crew loaded the guns of the colossal ships with incendiary and high explosive shells. At around 6:50 AM, all things were ready to go.

“FIRE!” ordered Angelovich.

The battleships opened fire on the coastline, launching their shells in one massed firing of ordnance. The planes started their engines on the HMS Sankt Valerian and then began to take off to make air raids on the coastline. Finally, the catapults on the HMS Sankt Valerian readied up their rockets for firing to take part in the massive display of armaments. The Bumblebees fired up their rocket engines, and then were launched into the air and flew at aimed targets along the coastline. In the meantime, General Tan readied his troops for battle as the transports, escorted by the four submarines and two light cruisers, moved into position to make for the shoreline.

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

Upon hearing of the arrival of the Excalbian mission to Magnus Valerius, Feodor Gagarin rushed to the Imperial International Airport in Isangrad, the largest airport in the empire and the air transport hub for the entire state of Valeria. Gagarin, with his aged grey hair and goatee, green eyes, and dark blue suit was the man of all foreign affairs for Magnus Valerius. He was once considered the best-looking man to ever come out of his little hometown out in the countryside of Aeola. The dignified man of 56 years was born under the reign of Meijis I, one of the greatest emperors to ever reign over Magnus Valerius. He has seen the ineptitude of Alexander I’s reign, the grace of Alexander II’s reign, and now works for the “little Valerian emperor”, the short yet overly ambitious Alexander III.

Gagarin was on the phone with one of his staff members back at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“Yes, this is Gagarin. I want a small manor house in Isangrad reserved for our guest. He should be treated with luxury and service while residing in our nation. I don’t care about the expense, I just care that the Excalbian envoy enjoys his stay in our empire.”

Valerians are often frugal about money, yet when it comes to guests and friends, they enjoy dropping cash for them and offer them a slice of luxury and show them fine Valerian hospitality.

Gagarin pulled up to the airport in his ‘44 Equestrian Fibonacci. The Fibonacci was a luxury vehicle, sleek and black with plenty of room for five people. It was rather pricey, but nothing a salary of the Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs could afford. Gagarin strolled into the airport with a small group of Imperial Guards in their flamboyant dark blue and white uniforms, shashka sabers, and rifles.

Feodor Gagarin came across Sir Wayne Pygram, the emissary from a proclaimed supporter of Magnus Valerius’ war against the republican regime in Iansisle. Gagarin clasped Pygram’s hand and gave him a firm hand shake as the Imperial Guards at his side saluted and kept the two VIPs protected.

“Welcome, my friend, to Magnus Valerius,” Gagarin announced with a grin as he bowed to pay respects to the Excalbian visitor. “I am glad to have finally met with you. I hope you enjoy your stay here in our fine nation, and I assume you would like to get down to business? Let us first get us out of this crowded aeroport and have a tête-à-tête somewhere more fitting, like a teahouse. Ah yes, I have also made arrangements for your lodgings at a manor house here in the capital city. Some aristocrat has rented it out to the government, so we hope you would like to stay in luxury while you are with us.”

Gagarin finished and then began thinking in the back of his mind. Where is a good teahouse around this area?

OOC:
For a recap on the Blue and White Fleet:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10847161&postcount=78

(We're doomed, dooooomed! -Admiral Sir James Frazer, Governor of Ceyloba.)

OOC: Haha, I guess the Valerian Horde does seem imposing like an apocalyptic tidal wave... especially since the empire is populous and has a high industrial capacity. :p

(OOC: Yo, Ian. A bit late in coming, but I have an explanation for it all, if you'd care to hear it. I'm not sure what I'll do in this thread at this point, but I do have various things in mind if given the opportunity. We'll see, of course.

~Holy Empire of All Novar Ohan)

(actually, I have a few moments so I'll throw something quickly together.)

The firebird banner hung limply over the former House of Burghers. At the door, armed soldiers in Novarian uniform stalked back and forth, determined to keep anyone from entering. Tarnaqin was silent now, the imposed curfew weighing heavily on the once lively city's atmosphere.

In the Western Marches (As the White Sea was known to the Republic) the Imperial Fleet drifted within imperial territory, keeping a close watch on the republic from the safety of Novar Ohan's own borders. The once bustling ports of WhiteHarbour and Novy Archangelsk lay deadened, and here too the soldiers were ubiquitous.

'Following the unfortunate death of my dear cousin' Grand Duke Ruslan Illyich Nikitin had said at Adrik Alexei Alexandrovitch Chyornyev's funeral, 'I have been asked by the House of Peers to act as regent for our beloved Prince Sebastien Alexeivitch, until he comes of age.' That had been nearly a year ago now, and Adrik Alexei's death in a planecrash was spoken of, in private, as the end of the 'good times'.

First had come the prohibition on public groups. Then there was the military-enforced curfews. Then the disappearances in the night of 'agitators', hauled off by a revitalised Okhranka to lord alone knows where. Then had come the final clash, with the House of Burghers attempting to impose its will on the Regent and end the 'madness'.

The session lasted fifteen minutes before the Prime Minister had been forced to shut it down, owing to what the Okhranka had called 'specific intelligence of an anarchist threat'. That had been 6 months ago. The building had been empty ever since. When members of the Duma had tried to return, the soldiers had politely, but firmly, guided them away.

Now Grand Duke Ruslan alone ruled in Novar Ohan, with the help of a complicit soldiery and his friends in the nobility. Prince Sebastien, and his mother the Lady Elizabeth, had vanished from sight, and rumours circulated, but only amongst close friends, that the line of the Chyornyev Tsars had come to an end in a final act of murder.

No news had come in, no news had come out. But now, once again, the Holy Empire of all Novar Ohan was bestirring itself.

Message To: The Foreign Ministry of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message Re: The Support of Mutual Friends

Brave and Resolute Allies of Magnus Valerius,

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government look fondly upon the actions you are undertaking to restore Her Royal Majesty, the Queen-Regent Jessica II, and the venerable and honorable House Callahan to their rightful position on the Shield. We have full faith in your ability to bring the corrupted regime of bandits, thieves, and murderers that is the self-proclaimed Gull Flag Republic to heel and see that it is sent to the ash-heap of history where it rightfully belongs.

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government also wish to extend their deepest sympathies and regrets for the price—both in men and material—that such an undertaking will surely exact from the Grand Empire. Her Imperial Majesty personally wishes it was within her power to do more and that more resources of her Realm could be dispatched to aid your cause. However, it seems that fate has conspired against us for the moment. The United Star Empire finds itself confronting a great menace in the Raumreich Oversector, where the majority of our key territory is located, and cannot risk sending an expeditionary force to Sol at this time.

But the United Star Empire is not without its assets and resources in Sol. They are merely limited. Bearing that in mind, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government still wish to contribute all that they are able to support your efforts to bring this rebellion to its knees in the name of our honored and long-time ally the House Callahan. To this effect we are more than willing to offer considerable services and support to your war efforts, and I will detail them for you decision.

First Her Imperial Majesty and a considerable number of the Peers of Her Imperial Majesty’s Realm have raised 2.5 billion Reichsmarks to contribute to the war chest of the Grand Empire to use at it sees fit to bring about the restoration of the Queen-Regent and the destruction of the Gull Flag Republic. Second Her Imperial Majesty has ordered the HMS Undaunted and HMS Daring—two Kriegsmarine cruisers currently stationed in orbit above Earth—to move to assist your war efforts by providing up-to-date satellite imagery and strategic data to your commanders and general staff. Finally Her Imperial Majesty has ordered the Undaunted and the Daring to contribute to logistics and combat support deployment by contributing their shuttles, transports, and orbital drop-pods as needed. Kapitan zur Sternen Kowle of the Undaunted and Fregattenkapitan Landerson of the Daring have also been empowered to put their ship-based Reichswehr detachments at your disposal as they see fit. Her Imperial Majesty and Reichsprotektor the Lord Reynard Adonis urge the Grand Empire to use these detachments wisely, while well-equipped and well-trained they are few in number and cannot win a war on their own.

For the moment that is, much to their regret, all Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government can offer to support the Grand Empire in its honorable undertaking. We hope to be able to provide additional resources in the near future. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government will await the Grand Empire’s response to our offer with much trepidation, even if the Grand Empire should choose not to accept our offer we hope it will know it has a stalwart friend and ally in the United Star Empire of Valinon.

With sincerest respects,
Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler
For Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government

Dili, Equatorial Robotstan

Admiral Rabindarath Tripura's breakfast is cut short when a midshipman from the teletype office rushes into his dining room, a teletype readout clutched in his left hand.

"Dispatch for you, admiral sah! Valerian warships have started shelling Luzon!"

Tripura nearly chokes on a piece of toast upon reading the teletype message.

"The die is cast, then. Gentlemen, to the teletype room."

The Admiral and his staff arrive in the teletype room minutes later, many of them still dressed in bathrobes and pyjamas, and are confronted with the latest news regarding the apparent Valerian invasion of the Philippines.

"...We recieved the first reports of a hostile surface force off Iansislean Luzon, including large battleships and at least one aircraft carrier, today at around eight o'clock. It is safe to assume that the ships are Valerian in origin, since so far Magnus Valerius is the only nation to have publicly promised military action against the Gull Flag Republic. While we don't have any good estimate with regards to numbers, its probably a fair bet that the Valerians are present in superior numbers than any friendly fleet by itself."

"Contact the Iansislean commander in the Philippines and tell him that he's got assistance coming. Highest encryption, of course. And have Air Commodore Guebuza fly his Canberras out to Buru. I want all the support I can get if we run into anything. Timor Command should be ready to sail by five o'clock."

"Aye, sah."

Timor Command isn't very big on paper, but as the Anti-Fascist War showed , it is a potent fighting force. The Dili-class light cruisers PNS Baucau, Pante Makassar, Bobonaro, and Maubisse, and the heavy cruiser PNS Linus form the Fleet's cruiser squadron, and are complemented by the Lobster-Class destroyers Acanthacaris, Eunephrops, Homarus, Metanephrops, Nephrops, and Thymopsis. With the exception of the relatively slow and heavily-armored Linus, they are all quite fast, the destroyers clocking over 38 knots in a sprint, and the light cruisers making 34. What the ships lack in size, moreover, they make up for in heavy torpedo armament and advanced surface search radar.

With Admiral Tripura aboard PNS Linus, the bulk of Timor Command sails north from Dili just before five o'clock, covered by Canberras flying from both Timorese airstrips and from the foreward strip on Buru. Tripura wants to get an idea of the enemy strength off Luzon before anything else, but if an opportunity arises he isn't about to shy away from combat.

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

Sir Wayne was rather startled to see the Minister of Foreign Affairs himself and a detachment of honour guards approaching him. However, his surprise never showed as he took the Minister's offered hand with equanimity and bowed slightly.

“Welcome, my friend, to Magnus Valerius,” Gagarin announced with a grin as he bowed to pay respects to the Excalbian visitor. “I am glad to have finally met with you. I hope you enjoy your stay here in our fine nation, and I assume you would like to get down to business? Let us first get us out of this crowded aeroport and have a tête-à-tête somewhere more fitting, like a teahouse. Ah yes, I have also made arrangements for your lodgings at a manor house here in the capital city. Some aristocrat has rented it out to the government, so we hope you would like to stay in luxury while you are with us.”

"Thank you for your hospitality, your Excellency," Sir Wayne said. "I am sure my stay in your lovely city will be most pleasant; the arrangements you have made sound most gracious. I do agree, however, that we should get down to business at once."

The career ambassador followed Gagarin as he let the Minister lead him to the venue of his choosing for their discussions.

OOC: But what’s this about a plane going at 200 knots? Hmm… never remembered launching one, and the invading fleet is off the coast of Luzon, a little far from Makassar, don't you think? :) The Gallagan convoy, however, might find itself under attack from a submarine squadron or some privateers. I'll write something up for my next post.

And… uh, nuke, Larkinia? Hehe… that’s a little harsh on me. The Valerians don‘t even know what the term ‘nuke‘ means. :p

((ooc: I left the contact ambiguous so you could claim it or not as you saw fit =). Oh, I should also mention that Iansisle has nuclear weapons (developed in the Antananarivo Project with Calarca and Walmington on Sea), but no real way to deliver them more than ~2000 miles from a heavy airstrip.

Now, I know I have a lot of catching up to do and this isn't a REAL post, per se. I'm working one up now. But Lark's example in the Rugby thread (check it out -- his is awesome!) inspired me to make this.))

"Boy, dad, it would be so swell if I could grow up to be just like Captain Stonecut!" said a little boy to his father.

"Hush, son, it's time for the news," said his dad.

http://iansisle.tripod.com/newsblurb2.wav

EDIT: Bah, you're going to have to copy/paste that link. Sorry >.<

OOC:


((ooc: I left the contact ambiguous so you could claim it or not as you saw fit =). Oh, I should also mention that Iansisle has nuclear weapons (developed in the Antananarivo Project with Calarca and Walmington on Sea), but no real way to deliver them more than ~2000 miles from a heavy airstrip.


O rly?

Well then, I guess I'll make something of it. :)

Anyway, I'll try to sneak in a post later. I've got the invasion underway, hehe. The Horde has arrived... :p

And… uh, nuke, Larkinia? Hehe… that’s a little harsh on me. The Valerians don‘t even know what the term ‘nuke‘ means. :p

((Who? Me? Nuke? I'd *never* do that. By the way I-Man, ignore the trawler sitting in the bay. You know, the one with the pretty glowing green lights. Funny, I didn't put any lights on the ship... ;) ))

((I'll have an IC post in a while (at work tonight so posting is very limited.) Speaking of posts, I-Man... *gets Viking galley drums out and starts a beat* ))

((I'll have an IC post in a while (at work tonight so posting is very limited.) Speaking of posts, I-Man... *gets Viking galley drums out and starts a beat* ))


((*ahem* It's coming, I swear! >.>))

((ok, here's the active theater. I'm still working on the diplomacy and game of cat-and-mouse in the marches. =) ))

The Valerians need not have worried so much: Iansislean forces in the northern Philippines did not oppose their landing. As the Philippines had been in a state of revolt for nearly a decade, the Army had been forced to spread its units thinly across the islands; 38,000 men-at-arms were not nearly as many as they seemed when distributed across the Philippines. As soon as the landings were reported, all units were ordered to avoid giving battle and converge on Baggao. If possible, they were not to give up the Cagayan River.

Part of the reason that Iansislean units in the northern part of Luzon were able to retreat in good order was that the Valerians were not quite as stealthy as they thought they were. Radranger stations at NFC Escarpada Point and NFC Camiguin detected the Valerian fleet more than an hour before they were able to open fire and a close flyover by a reckless Spirit confirmed the identification. The regional garrison at San Vincente, a company of men from the 11th Thortraia Regiment of Foot, was able to evacuate before the bombardment started, though they were strafed along the road by Sankt Valerian’s strike force along the coast road to Baggao.

At Baggao, the situation quickly began to resemble one of barely-organized chaos. More and more detached units of the 11th Thortraia began to filter in, closely followed by Iansislean plantation owners, their families, Filipino collaborationists, and the others who had everything to lose from a change of administration in the islands. However, the vast majority of the populace, just like they had when the Americans had driven out the Spanish, or when the Americans in their turn had been driven out by the Iansisleans, chose to take a cautiously optimistic attitude towards the newcomers. A change in government was not necessarily a bad thing for the average Filipino, as the status quo left them on the bottom rung of the Iansislean socioeconomic ladder.

Once assembled, however, the 11th Thortraia was hardly overwhelming. All together, it could muster some 2,323 healthy men, a handful of machine guns, and one single horse-drawn three pounder artillery piece. How Manila expected them to ‘hold the Cagayan’ in the face of an enemy which, through flawed intelligence reports, was estimated at 50,000 was quite beyond Colonel Bruges’ ability to comprehend. He knew that other regiments were being assembled in the south, but it would take months for them to be organized under General Farport into any sort of an organized fighting force.

His orders were simple: “Get the women and children across the river, then plant explosives on the bridges. And dig in.”

The situation in the air was a little less grim for Iansisle. The Philippines had always been a major center for aeropower in the Pacific. However, the vast majority of the islands’ 350-odd aeroflyers were based not around Manila, but rather in the south near Davao, which had traditionally been Iansisle’s center of power. The number of 350 was also somewhat misleading, as a large number of the islands’ aeroflyers were obsolete MPAF-5 Steeds and TBAF-2 Mosquitos, which were not even maintained in active service but rather mothballed. Between the islands Norikers and Colts, the Philippines had some 72 modern fighters. Only one squadron of Norikers was maintained in the north, at an aerodrome near Manila. The rest of the modern aeroflyers, some 80 machines, were bombers -- both torpedo and conventional -- and the ubiquitous Spirits. The squadron near Manila had been on full alert since the Valerian fleet was sighted and was ready to launch in case of Valerian aerocraft ranging farther then the initial landing zones. Meanwhile, the Steeds were being hauled out of mothballs and readied, while Fort Manly was hastily transferring two squadrons of advanced, trans-sonic Gelderlanders north.

((And for those involved in the active theater, remember you can apply for 'special' grants for additional monies and munitions by emailing jwilliams@nivencorp.com :D ))

((no, don't actually click on the link, I don't know where it goes ;) ))

OOC: Alright, I won't initiate battle in the North Pacific Theatre just yet...

Nice news blurb, hehe. It seems the Valerians are a little reckless.

IC:

The Coast of Luzon

The Valerian fleet commander, Angelovich, after having his scout planes report no resistance on shore (except for a few hundred retreating Iansisleans) gave the order to send the troop transports to the shore of Luzon. Angelovich was a little disappointed that the Valerians could not initiate a surprise attack against the Iansisleans. If he were able to, the Valerians would have taken out a lot of the garrison. Angelovich guessed that they must have had radar towers, catching the signals from the dreadnoughts, the largest ships in the fleet.

With everything secured, Angelovich ceased fire upon the shore and the troop transports speedily approached the shore. Within minutes, they arrived, and the thousands of Valerian troops began disembarking their vessels. Trucks and horses pulled out several artillery pieces, including a howitzer and several AA guns. Cossacks mounted their horses, in their full Imperial Regalia, and began to march ahead of the infantry to secure the shoreline. Their guns were loaded, ready to deal with any Iansislean stragglers.

General Immanuel Tan landed on shore on top of a grey warhorse, beckoning for the Valerians to ready their knapsacks and guns for an expedition.

"Today, we shall begin the march to Manila," stated General Tan. "First, we shall take over Tuguegarao, to the south. That city will be the point where we can cross the Cagayan, and then head onwards towards Manila! I desire to set up a base there, so we can then continue our operations on a place within this theatre of war.”

Tan had ordered for three commandos to go follow and scout out the region where the Iansisleans had retreated to. It would be a bad idea to send in planes, since it was obvious that they had radar stations on the island. Once the Iansisleans were found out, the commandos will no doubt radio in for a detachment to come and attack the Iansisleans. Any entrenchments will be bombarded by artillery, and of course, the thousands of infantry, Cossacks, and “tankers” (which Valerians call the soldiers operating tanks, armored cars, etc.) will storm the place.

To the average Filipino, the Valerians are intriguing, friendly, and interesting newcomers, with a culture much different than that of the Iansisleans. For once, Valerians spoke a Slavic tongue and had distinctly different features. Valerians can be either swarthy or fair-haired, often with green or blue eyes. Their noses tended to be flat, with several Valerians being pug-nosed. Their faces are round, sometimes long, sometimes stout, with either fierce or sleepy-looking eyes, incline brows, a sturdy chin, and small mouths with arched lips. Valerians are naturally a friendly people, who enjoy company and entertaining people, friends or acquaintances.

The Valerians began to march inland a little, singing a march as they went along. “Znayut Parsi Nas I Yaponsky,” was a popular march that sung of the exploits of the Valerians when they defended the Republic of Nova Venezia from the Empire of Sasukuo and the Shahnate of Zarathustriana. The Valerians could speak English, since that was the lingua franca of the nation, although with a heavy Valerian accent. A Valerian accent places emphasis on the letter r, which is trilled, and th’s are often pronounced as d’s, f’s, v’s, or s’s. Valerians also can be seen eating their stroganoff with chop sticks. Magnus Valerius came under some partial influence of Chinese culture in the 9th century, thanks to strong trade ties to China during that time period, so fine porcelain and the occasional appearance of chopsticks are cultural loans from the Chinese. If the Filipinos knew about how the Valerians treated the citizens of Shorehaven, then they would defect to Magnus Valerius, no questions asked. The Valerian government offers the natives of its colony of Shorehaven full citizenship if they wanted to, and it allowed the colony to be self-governing, while, of course, the colony swears itself as part of the Grand Empire for protection and industrial investment.

In the Pacific Ocean

The plethora of ships that had been recently completed in Valerian shipyards have been fully manned a while back, and they had began their journey to the Iansislean colonies off in the West Pacific and the Indian Ocean. With them was a convoy of many more troops. Phillip Balmarik, the Minister of War, thought it would be necessary to have additional troops on hand to garrison the colonies once Valerian forces mopped the floor with the disarrayed Iansisleans.

The standing army of Magnus Valerius at peacetime is rather large, numbering at about 1.5 million soldiers. Despite that number, Magnus Valerius does not have a large standing army for its size, not to mention that their standing army was larger before. 1.5 million is WWI France or Germany status. Yet, after the declaration of war, Magnus Valerius’s manpower has gone up with fresh new recruits, who are still likely training for the tough war ahead. So far, Magnus Valerius’s manpower is up to 2.7 million men; despite this figure, Magnus Valerius only has the standing army of 1.5 million ready for combat. The rest have to train to match Magnus Valerius’s high military standards.

The large convoy of 100,000 additional troops and countless supplies and munitions for a semi-permanent base on the Philippines and other regions of interest were guarded by many ships, including the newest dreadnoughts of the gargantuan Ivan I class. An aircraft carrier, a few destroyer flotillas, cruisers, battlecruisers, and submarines. The formidable armada will drop off the troops on the Philippines before sending its submarines to wreak havoc on any unlucky convoys that happen to find themselves out at sea.

Over the Makassar Strait

“Okay, this is a most confidential mission, an experiment for Magnus Valerius, for the glory of the Grand Empire!”

The pilot, dressed in black glanced over to his copilot, who was busy readying his fingers for the moment of Valerian history. What exactly was their mission? On board their long-range Favaen class bomber was a new test weapon for the Grand Empire. No, it was not a nuclear bomb, but it was at least a bomb. While Magnus Valerius has no nuclear technology, its pyrotechnicians have made advanced incendiary bombs and things that explode and then burn. The bomber took off from the colony of Shorehaven, which is off in the Western Central Pacific.

Their target was Iansislean Sarawak, with the hopes of success for their mission. The new bomb was being tested for its destructiveness and shock value to unwary Iansisleans garrison troops or colonials under Iansislean control. The bomber passed over the Makassar Strait, where it had come across the fleet. The bomber was alone, and it received a ping from the flotilla of civilian ships.

“Well, looks like we have been spotted. Let’s turn away from this fleet!”

The pilot ignored the ping and turned away from the fleet, which appeared on his radar computer. The plane then darted across the strait over Borneo. Within a while, the plan was over Sarawak.

“It’s time, my friend. Push the launch button!”

The eager copilot clapped his hands like a happy child and keenly did what he was told. The bomb bays of the bomber opened, and out came some sort of contraption. It was a large, roundish object with several compartments. The timers counted down before the compartments opened and released smaller rockets that drove away and then down from the bomb. The rockets hit first, exploding viciously on the terra firma of Sarawak. A ring of fire erupted as napalm and other incendiary substances in the rockets ignited. Then came the round, large contraption. It was a bomb itself. The bomb exploded, igniting a massive bonfire. The firestorm raged and could be seen for miles. Columns of smoke belched up into the air, before being blown northeast by the soft breezes coming up from Singapore. Whatever the bomb hit was, well, toast. The bombers aimed for a plantation, not wanting to hit the precious rainforests nor a city (at this moment). With a mission deemed successful, the plane made a sharp turn and headed back to its aerodrome in Shorehaven.

OOC:

Uhh... I hope that pyromaniacal bomb doesn't give you a reason to nuke me now... hehe. That's pretty much the most destructive thing in the Grand Empire's arsenal (and it was only a prototype too; there aren't any other bombs like that at the moment). Not very destructive in comparison with a nuke, if you ask me. :p

Excalbia and Valinor, I’ll have posts for you shortly.

Kingston

Under the Robotstani capital's omnipresent light drizzle the battleship PNS Lion, name-ship of the PN's only class of battleships, slips her moorings and motors out into Kingston Harbour. The light cruisers Al-Khals and Lebanon, and the destroyers Thymops, Homarinus, Nephropsis, and Thymopedies, follow the 39,000-ton Lion out of the Kingston Anchorage and into the Harbor, travelling at a steady 20 knots, and once out of the harbour steer southwest. A flock of corvettes and A/S sloops escorts the ships, under the command of Vice Admrial Vincent Komarov, out of Robotstani coastal waters and into the North Pacific, and before long they are fighting choppy seas and rain.

With a Valerian battlegroup off Luzon, the Admiralty is especially concerned about Timor, and the Lion's battlegroup is headed to join Admiral Rabindarath Tripura's fleet already based out of Dili. There is still no word on the size of the Valerian force, so the Admiralty hopes that the presence of Lion will be enough to secure Timor and give Tripura some offensive capability. In reality, one of the PN's battleships, a reliable and useful design if not outstanding, is not likely to tip the balance, with multiple larger Valerian vessels in the region.

Celebes Sea, 120 Kilometers Northeast of Manado, Sulawesi Island

As Tripura's force nears the Philippines, it recieves word from Dili to turn around and head back to Timor. With reinforcements headed to the area already, it is not deemed a good idea to risk the destruction of the Timor Fleet so early on, and the order is given aboard the Linus to head back southeast.

Overhead, an RAI Canberra based out of Buru flies towards Luzon, auxiliary fuel tanks hanging from its wing pylons. It is a photographic reconaissance variant of the venerable Canberra, its surfaces painted an aesthetic sky blue which blends in quite well with the more friendly South Asian skies, and it cruises north at 450 knots, a speed considered quite safe from interception by prop-driven aircraft. As the surface battlegroup turns back for home, the Admiralty office in Dili considers the viability of launching bombing raids on the Valerians from the PRAF's forward airbase at Buru, or the abandoned Japanese strip at Morotai.

The Canberra's crew watch as Tripura's ships make the turn far below them, their wakes visible even from high altitude, and continue towards Luzon with an eye on the fuel gauge. Not equipped with a radar, the Canberra depends on its crew's eyesight to spot both potential threats and surface contacts, so in this modern age of radrangers and airborne early warning aircraft, the Valerians will likely see the lone bomber before it sees them, even with its sky-blue camoflauge pattern.

OOC:

I'm in the midst of finals week, so I won't be able to post for a couple of days. Sorry for taking a while for this post as well, but I have to study. :)

IC:

The Imperial Palace
Isangrad

With Minister Gagarin busy entertaining the Excalbian guest to Magnus Valerius, Tsar Alexander III took Gagarin's place temporarily, taking in all foreign diplomatic letters and overtures. Of course, he received a very interesting overture from The United Star Empire of the Valinor. The letter came in a few minutes after Gagarin vacated the office for the Isangrad Imperial International Airport. Draining his cup of his morning coffee, Alexander opened the sealed letter that the communications department received and then printed out onto a letter.

"This is very good news, I hope," the Tsar spoke to himself, "we could use all of the support we can get, especially diplomatic allies and friends in our cause to quash the evil regime and execute its biggest manipulator, the so-called Madders."

The Tsar leaned back in the comfy armchair, opening a packaged Cuban cigar and lighting it up. The tsar chewed on the end of the cigar, savoring the taste of the tobacco and exhaling thick, white smoke. Alexander has a major fondness for many things Cuban. Cuban rum, cigars, and women all appeal to the pompous Valerian ruler. "If only I owned that island," he thought, "I could have all the quality cigars in the world!" Valerians also produced cigars for tobacco grown in the state of Magyar Isles, but they do not match the quality of Cuban ones, and the Valerian cigar was often called the 'commoner's cigar'.

Alexander III read the letter, once glancing over it before secondly thoroughly, while enjoying his cigar. His eyes beamed when he came across the section talking about Queen-Regent Jessica II’s full support of Valerian troops. “Why, if only the House of Callahan was still in power. Then I might be able to find a suitable husband for my young Constantina.” Alexander’s eldest daughter, Constantina, was a mere 18 years old, but Alexander had plans to marry her off, especially after an incident when he caught her with a soccer player from her high school. “Such offal does not deserve my daughter,” Alexander had mused, “she needs to be wed to a nobleman, or at least a suitor worthy in my eyes. That ‘jock’ thought he could get away, seducing my Tina like that.”


Message To: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Queen Jessica II, High Queen of the Shield and its Dominions
Message From: His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message Re: The Support of Mutual Friends

Dear Lord Reinstadler of the Valinor and Queen Jessica II of the Shield, eternal friends of Magnus Valerius,

I, Tsar Alexander III, do appreciate your approval of my strong-armed actions in the colonies of the Shield. I assure you, that Valerian might and valor will wrest control of your most glorious colonies from the hands of the treacherous murderers who dare to make their home in Ianapalis. It will be tough work, facing the so-called Gull Flag Republic and their numerous allies alone, but I am quite certain that we may be able to topple the regime of illegitimate souls who ruin the Grand Empire of the Shield with their overwhelming incompetence. As far as I know, intelligence reports that your subjects face starvation; I promise a diktat -- no, I declare -- that I will keep your subjects fed and healthy once I have captured control of the Shield for you.

Your Highness, if you would allow it, I would enjoy personally executing the head conspirators, hanging them, shooting them, or having them drown in King William’s Sea. Then again, I would much more enjoy the pleasure of bringing them to your feet personally. Mark my word, so long as I draw breath, I shall work to help the House Callahan in its efforts to return to power.

I regret that the cost of returning the House Callahan may cause grief amongst the Valerian people over lost brothers, sons, and fathers, but it will be for good cause. Even if the population may suffer, Valerians are prolific, resilient people. You need not worry. Magnus Valerius wishes the best for The United Star Empire in fighting its enemy, and we pray that God grant the might for your armies to crush your current foe. Once a swift victory for the United Star Empire is assured, I would be welcome to have you aid in the return of the Callahans to power. I would also be delighted to host an embassy here in the Grand Empire, to help strengthen relations between the Valinor and Valerian peoples.

Despite your military entanglements, all the aid that you can offer to the Grand Empire in this war effort will be gladly accepted and put to great use. I am humbled by your notions of help and offering to Magnus Valerius, considering that you have a dangerous war in your sector. I appreciate your massive and most generous contributions to our war funds. I am not sure what is the exchange rate between your Reichsmark and the Valerian Crown, but I do believe that your currency may be more valuable; it is of great value to us. Your two orbital cruisers will also be greatly beneficial in our tactics and logistics. Since we lack the technology of having such ships out in space, it will prove to be a decisive advantage in this war. Please, send us all information you retrieve. I also would like to request that shuttles, transports, and drop pods from the HMS Undaunted and HMS Daring to be ready at our command; we need to transport many troops rather quickly to the Philippines to help garrison the islands once we have gained control of them, and the shuttles will be useful in the West Pacific/Indian Ocean Theatre of this war when we continue on to the Shield’s other colonial possessions (now in the grips of a brutal Republic).

I must ask, how many men are in the Reichswehr attachments you plan to send? We can use those brigades as much-needed support for our main army in action in the colonies of the Shield, especially if we come across entrenched Republic soldiers; from what I discern, your brigades are likely armed with much more advanced and effective weaponry, which will be put to good use alongside our infantry‘s standard Kingsford Mk. IV 7mm magnum bolt-action rifles.

For what The United Star Empire faces at its home front, we offer all of the support that you have offered so far, and we shall put it all to good use. We will gratefully accept any future aid, and we are looking forward to winning this war for Her Royal Majesty, Queen Jessica II. Once final note to Her Imperial Highness: would the House of Callahan be interested in arranging a marriage with a member of the House of Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios? A dynastic bond between our families will only further strengthen our relations. What members of your House are eligible for marriage? Once I know whom the Callahans could desire to be wed, I would offer you a list of consorts and princesses available from the Boriviches. Of course, such a marriage would have to be held off until the Grand Empire of the Shield is restored, but I am merely thinking of the future.

With Utmost Sincerity,
Tsar Alexander III
Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

----

With the letter completed, Alexander went out to an orchestra house to watch and listen to the performances of several pieces by Slavic composers made into one symphony. While Alexander tries to make himself look like a cultured person, in truth, he has no interest in cultural pursuits. He will likely fall asleep at the orchestra house, and often does not comprehend the meaning of art.

----

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
Isangrad Imperial Intl. Airport

Feodor Gagarin grinned and led Sir Wayne to his car. Gagarin had suddenly remembered the teahouse where he usually frequented; it was the one where he found his wife, so it had much emotional meaning to him. The guards moved in tandem with Gagarin and Wayne as they left the crowded, noisy airport and headed for Gagarin's luxury vehicle.

"Sir Wayne, I presume? We are going to the Tarragona Steet Tea Lounge. It is a nice place to have a spot of tea. It's the best tea this side of the River Vedus! Anyway, I hope you like tea... I would like for us to discuss our business there."

Gagarin piled into the backseat of his car, offering Sir Wayne to sit at the right window. The guards piled into their own vehicles. The machine members of the motorcade fired up their engines, getting ready to make the ten or so minute trip to the Tarragona Street Tea Lounge.

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

Sir Wayne Pygram nodded. “Yes, your Excellency,” he said politely, “a nice cup of tea sounds very nice.” The diplomat followed the Gagarin out to his car and took the offered seat.

“Lovely car,” he said as he settled into the seat. Even as he made himself comfortable, Sir Wayne maintained an air of formality, as if he were sitting at attention.

Aboard INV Holy Empire, West of Cape MacMillan

CAPT Harry Olofsson stood at the front of the bridge, looking out into the rough seas of the gathering storm. To the east dark clouds obscured the horizon. The air patrols reported that the storm seemed to be centered over the so-called Skull. More sauce for the goose, he thought to himself.

Ahead, to the north, however, the blue sky was breaking through patches in the clouds. The captain smiled and looked down at the clipboard containing the latest message traffic. He flipped through several pages. So far, there was no sign of detection and the squadron was nearing the point where it would turn back to the northeast and make for the Weshield Straits.

Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler sat at his desk in his private study in the Valinor enclave in the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss. He carefully goes through the correspondence that has arrived at the primary office of Her Imperial Majesty’s Ministry for Foreign Affairs on Earth as he does every day, calmly taking sips of the partially filled glass of brandy sitting on the desk next to him. Reinstadler puts aside the comp-pad bearing the updates from the Star Empire proper and makes a few personal notations by sub-vocalizing comments into his n-plant via its wet-ware.

Reinstadler’s hand reaches out for the next message, a formal piece of hard-copy bearing the now somewhat familiar crest of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius. He notes the seal and takes a final sip from his brandy before turning his chair to face out the vast windows looking out from the main manse of the enclave over the central gardens, specifically a well-tended hedge maze. The Fourth Minister idly grasps a saber shaped mail open and slices the seal off with practiced ease. He removes the document and reviews the words of Alexander III.

A few moments later, Reinstadler summons his long-time secretary Arya to his office.

“Yes, My Lord?” the poised woman, whose hair is now streaked with grey at the temples says calmly.

“Could you send for Lyn, Arya? I have need to speak with him regarding additional matters in the Iansislean affair.”

Arya smiles slightly at what has become the enclave’s polite shorthand of the steadily more complex situation regarding the Shield and all the nations involved in it.

“Certainly.”

Consul Lyn Arryn, Reinstadler’s personal representative and adjutant to the Wassenaar ambassadorial district in Knootcap proper, strides in a few minutes later. His three-piece suit has been shed, at least partially, with the tie gone and the vest unbuttoned. Normally Arryn would have been in Knootcap, but there had been several issues regarding the KIST organization that had required him to confer with the leading official of the Foreign Office on Earth.

“You needed something, My Lord?”

“I believe you may want to look over this, Lyn,” Reinstadler hands Arryn the message from Alexander III.

“Very…confident,” Arryn says after his eyes have flicked over the message.

“Bold is the polite term I would use, Lyn, bordering on pretentious, but I expected that much from the Valerians after contacting them.”

“I suppose if we are backing them some amount of boldness may be warranted, My Lord.”

Reinstadler chuckles, “Fair enough, Lyn. But I have something for you to attend to if you would, since I have to attend the KIST function in Knootcap today.”

“Attend to the details of this?”

“Precisely! I will handle the formal reply, but I was wondering if you would be so good as to put Kapitan Kowle in contact with the Valerians and instruct him as to what needs to be done. I want him to support the Valerian operations within reason, he is to coordinate with their officers unless he feels a directive from them would endanger his men to too great of an extent. If he feels thus, I want him to contact us at once. I will diffuse any potential situation before it can come to a dispute between the Valerians and us.”

“I believe I can handle that.”

“I know you can, Lyn. Could you also bring me the latest transcripts from KIST? I seem to have misplaced them.”

Lyn nods as he stands.

“Thank you,” once he is gone Reinstadler recollects his brandy glass and turns back to the window. He looks out into the growth of hedges and sees a figure holding an infant drifting through the partially shadowed lanes and passages. The fact that she is being carefully shadowed by two other figures: a Sardaukar and an ESS operative would be enough to have identified her if Reinstadler could not have seen her face. Reinstadler watches as Queen Anna and the young King Ian continue their walk. His eyes follow them for a while as he finishes his brandy, when he finishes the glass he gives one last lingering glance and then turns back to the remaining correspondence.

**********

Poised serenely above the mottled blue and white sphere of Old Earth the two cruisers, HMS Undaunted and HMS Daring make their way slowly toward the general area of the Shield and the Pacific, as per the orders initiated at Lord Reinstadlers request and turned into reality by the fiat of the Reichsprotektor and the Star Lords of Her Imperial Majesty’s Admiralty. A single flight of three Precentor-class interceptor and space-superiority drones glide in front of the two cruisers at over 90 million kilometers, providing the advance screen for the two Kriegsmarine warships. Even farther out are two Ferret-class stealth reconnaissance drones, one off the stern and one off the bow of the cruisers, forming the final elements of the cruisers limited CAP force.

On the bridge of the Undaunted, Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle reads the instructions from the Foreign Office, approved by the imperial high command, after the comm. officer uploaded them to his n-plant. After reading the message and purging it, Kowle turns back to face the well-organized and quiet murmuring of his ship’s bridge.

“Mr. Iabuto, status if you please,” Kowle strolls toward the edge of the bridge, with its simulated viewports showing a view of the Daring ahead of its sister ship.

The helmsman looks up from his station briefly, “We are closing in on the Philippines, sir. Cutting power to all-ahead one-third as per your orders, Kapitan, and preparing to assume orbit over the islands.”

Kowle nods, “Leutnant Acreson?”

“Combat report confirmed, Kapitan, orbital feeds from our own eyes and the Daring’s have confirmed Valerian presence along the core islands of the Philippines. Their fleet is covering a beachhead landing and several elements of their expeditionary force appear to be marching inland, sir. Sensors are also confirming that there is a definite, lightly fortified position several kilometers away from the Valerian advance force—presumably Gull Flag forces.”

Kowle inclines his head, “Give me a sensor network, Acreson. I want as many rec-drones and ob-sats in the air as you feel you need. Cover the known strongholds of the Iansislean military in the Philippines, especially the aerospace redoubt at Davao.”

Kowle represses a chuckle at the use of aerospace to describe Davao. To describe what the Iansisleans can field from their as aerospace assets in the Star Empire’s terminology is laughable. Still any weapon can be deadly if used well, and after all the Valerians cannot be said to be as well equipped as their allies in orbit.

“Comm, forward a message to Kapitan Landerson. Once we have coordinated with our friends on the ground and seen to what needs to be done with the disposition of our own troops he is to proceed to a position over the Shield proper and establish a sensor net and relay line there as well. If the Gull Flaggers decide to scramble from their main forces, I want to be able to keep the Valerians well abreast of this. Also, Acreson, setup a regular patrol for the Ferrets covering all known and commonly used sea lanes the Iansislean navy has used to reinforce and support their bases in the Philippines paying special attention to Shield-Philippines routes.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Aye, sir.”

Kowle turns on his heel, “Eric?”

Fregattenkapitan Eric Desny looks up from where he had been reviewing and aiding the tactical section, who had a pair of Bootsmann undergoing their first active-duty cruise.

“Kapitan?”

“You have the watch, I will be in my quarters preparing a message for our Valerian friends on the ground. Alert me if anything goes…awry?”

Densy smiles slightly, appreciating his kapitan’s use of his favorite understatement.

“I have the watch, sir.”

**********

Message To: His Imperial and August Majesty the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message From: Lord Wilheml Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message Re: Re: The Support of Mutual Friends

Your Imperial Majesty,

Her Imperial Majesty will be greatly pleased to hear of your stalwart devotion to the cause of Iansisle and that of House Callahan. I have also sent your generous and noble message to the Princess-Regent forthwith, I am sure she will have her own befitting reply and equally vibrant words of her own to add to those that I write today.

Rest assured that the United Star Empire alone looks forward to the day that the corrupted and callous murderer known as Lawrence Madders is brought to swift justice and goes to meet his own eternal judgment—may it also be as swift and merciless as he is deserving of on the ethereal planes as well as those mortal. Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government wish to thank you for your concern regarding our affairs abroad, but wish to assure you that even in these trying times it is still necessary to demonstrate that the solidarity that has traditionally existed between the houses Alderman and Callahan—and indeed that of all houses of noble, imperial lineage—shall not be so easily cast asunder by the likes of murderers, warlords, insurrectionists, and usurpers. They will all too soon learn that their disorder and chaos have no place in a civilized world governed by reason and order.

However, Your Imperial Majesty, I must confess that I am not a man of considerable military training and the days of my conscription service have long since passed. Therefore I must defer to the expertise and knowledge of Kapitan zur Sternen Kowle aboard the Undaunted and allow him to address your concerns and questions in martial issues. Rest assured that I have sent a message to the Kapitan detailing your questions and your desires regarding this campaign. He has receipted this message and there is no doubt in my mind that you will find his council reaching you shortly.

In the name of Her Imperial Majesty, Her Imperial Majesty’s Government and the entirety of the United Star Empire I wish you luck and safety during this time of war and strife. But together, we will undoubtedly ascertain victory over our would-be foes and put to right this grievous wrong before it is allowed to spread.

With sincerest respects,
Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler
For Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government

**********

Message To: ] His Imperial and August Majesty the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message From: Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Undaunted, in the service of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine
Message Re: Disposition of My Forces at Your Disposal

Your Most Imperial Majesty,

Lord Reinstadler has made informed me of your concerns and questions regarding the cooperation of my command with your own forces currently undertaking active operations against the elements of the Gull Flag military currently garrisoning their colonial possessions. Rest assured, Your Majesty, I intend to cooperate with you, your nation, and your commands fully in order to secure victory against the enemy in this theater.

Per my orders, the HMS Undaunted and the HMS Daring have taken up orbital positions above the Philippines. I am establishing a dedicated sensor and observation network over the islands, and intend to send the Daring to establish a similar network above the Shield proper once the network here is completed. My Ferret-class drones have also been tasked to patrol known sea lanes used by the Iansislean navy to support and reinforce their positions in the Philippines. Between the Undaunted and the Daring I have twelve Ferret-class drones at my disposal, and intend to commit eight of these to this patrol force. The remaining four I shall hold in reserve for the moment.

Besides the squadron of Ferrets, my command also has a squadron of Precentor-class interceptor and space-superiority combat drones. Currently three of these are being used to maintain a combat air patrol (CAP) around my command’s perimeter, and three more will be held in reserve by the Daring to provide its own CAP when it moves toward the Shield. That leaves me with six free Precentors at my disposal, and with the permission of the Valerian high command I wish to release all of them in two flights of three to run overhead flights against Iansislean military installations in the Philippines, especially their aerospace bases on Davao. I do not believe outright destruction will be necessary, Your Majesty. Fear may prove to be our greatest ally in this case, if the Iansislean commanders fear the intervention of my drones they may restrict their aerospace operations in order to preserve their men and their craft. Of course the drones will be held in reserve and at the ready to support Valerian forces if the Iansisleans move to make a decisive strike against your forces. I will scramble them at a moment’s notice if your commanders deem it necessary.

In order to provide for the ability to establish fast relay of orbital intelligence provided by the satellites, drones, and my ships own sensors, I will be deploying a planet-side force drawn from my Reichswehr detachments aboard the Undaunted. With that being said, I will address your concerns raised regarding the size and deployment availability of my Reichswehr contingent and its assets. Neither the Undaunted nor the Daring are carrying a full troop detachment, but both Fregattenkapitan Landerson and myself have two full line companies, each of 180 men of which 152 are Sardaukar. Each company is a self-contained unit capable of operation for six-standard weeks without immediate resupply. Neither of the drop companies under my command have access to extensive terrestrial transportation assets besides their assault transports, of which each company has three. However, each company has five squads equipped with assault power armor at their disposal which should offset the lack of vehicles to a great degree in this theater. At this time I intend to deploy Hauptmann Mount with the Undaunted’s company to support your operations in the Philippines along with three Intruder-class assault transports and two Star-class standard transports. I will hold Hauptmann McDermot and the Daring’s company in reserve for the moment.

Also in reserve will be the remaining parasite craft attached to my ships, excluding their combat drones. Besides the three remaining Intruder-class reserved for Hauptmann McDermot, I also have two additional Star-class standard transports, six Dart-class shuttles, and two Quickening-class fast couriers. These assets are at your disposal, as well as the assault transports from Hauptmann Mount’s command once his force has landed. Hauptmann Mount will also bring the necessary hardware to link your commanders with live-feed orbital intelligence from our networks and sensors.

In regards to our orbital drop-pods, Your Majesty, I must urge you to err on the side of prudence with them. My supply of drop-pods is limited and I can only make three full drop insertions of each company with the assets at my disposal, I would prefer retaining these in reserve until it is absolutely necessary to use them. While they can be recovered after initial use, I lack immediate access to the facilities to recondition them for renewed use.

With that I believe our business to be concluded. For the purposes of joint operations I will act as the overall coordinator and commanding officer for all operations under taken by the Star Empire, as well as acting in the capacity as fleet liaison and fleet commander. Hauptmann Mount will act as my primary liaison to your terrestrial forces at this time, as well as operational commander in the Philippines theater.

I look forward to additional coordination with your officers and bringing about the expedient end of Gull Flagger rule in the Philippines.

Markus Kowle
Kapitan zur Sternen, commanding

((yes, I know...I'm responding in bits and pieces. I don't have work tomorrow, though, and I have tons of ideas and plans bobbing around. I'm trying to get them committed to computer as quickly as possible, but work's been killing me lately. I barely have enough time for the Cherry Cup / World Cup, let alone real RP ;-).))

Everett raised an eyebrow. “I would doubt, Mr. de Fenne, that the High Queen and her supporters, such as His Imperial Majesty, would accept such a precondition. Asking her to foreswear her claims to sovereignty as a precondition to negotiation would be the same as asking your government to offer its resignation before sitting down at the table; it is, I would suggest, sir, be asking the other side to capitulate before talks begin.”

The diplomat looked down at his notes, then back up at the Director. “Perhaps there could be some middle ground? We could, for instance, ask the High Queen to attend in a private capacity, rather than as a head of state and ask her to forego the expectation that you use her titles. Perhaps she could also be asked to accept a pre-negotiation declaration on your part stating that you reject her claims to sovereignty. Provided, of course, that you accept a reciprocal statement from her asserting her claims.”


de Fenne smiled winningly at Everett; his teeth were a perfect white, which was rare on the Shield. “Ah, my good man, now we are getting somewhere. My office can write a statement enforcing the Republic’s opinion that Jessica Callahan is attending this conference as a private party only. Callahan is free to make whatever declarations she desires.

“If she is willing to attend in a purely private capacity, and publicly acknowledge it as such, the Republic would of course be delighted. However, she should be reminded that she should, in either circumstance, never expect to be referred to as anything but ‘Ms Callahan’ by a member of my negotiating team.”

Spirit 37-A
West of Cape Hunt

“It’s starting to clear a bit,” said 37-A’s spotter, his eyes squinting against the endless grey of the Marches.

“Like hell,” growled the Spirit’s pilot. A wave of turbulence broke over the craft, bucking it violently. “We’ll never find anything in this mess.”

“Surface contact!” called the radranger operator. Whether the jostling had realigned the ‘ranger or the operator was simply waiting to make a fool out of his officer was unclear. “Green ten, bearing sou-east. Check, multiple surface contacts.”

“It might be the Excalbians,” said the spotter.

“What would they be doing this far north?” demanded the pilot. “I’m going to pull above the clouds; there might be a clearing large enough for a visual.” He banked slightly to starboard and started climbing. The range with the contact steadily ticked down - one hundred fifty miles. one hundred forty. one hundred thirty.

They broke through the clouds into the sunlight; the difference was quite astonishing. After their eyes had readjusted the spotter scanned the clouds with his binoculars.

“There’s a break up a head -- put the nose down a touch -- yes! I see wake.” He adjusted the glasses. “Strange silhouette, though. It’s a flattop, but I don’t recognize it from the Excalbian charts.”

“Give it here,” said the pilot, reaching for the glasses. He only needed them for four seconds. “Larkinian.”

There was just the fainted note of panic in his voice.

“You’re kidding, right?” asked the radranger operator.

“No.”

“Where’s their patrol?”

“Probably right behind us, or hiding in the clouds. They can do strange things to radrangers -- make it so the signals don’t bounce back properly,” the pilot added as the operator frantically checked his scope. “Well, don’t just sit there, call it in!”

The pilot had already started a hurried bank turn away from the fleet as the operator called out “Larkinian battle fleet spotted; repeat...”

“Give it here,” said the pilot, reaching for the glasses. He only needed them for four seconds. “Larkinian.”

There was just the fainted note of panic in his voice.

“You’re kidding, right?” asked the radranger operator.

“No.”

“Where’s their patrol?”

“Probably right behind us, or hiding in the clouds. They can do strange things to radrangers -- make it so the signals don’t bounce back properly,” the pilot added as the operator frantically checked his scope. “Well, don’t just sit there, call it in!”

The pilot had already started a hurried bank turn away from the fleet as the operator called out “Larkinian battle fleet spotted; repeat...”

The pilot didn't know how correct he was, the jammers from the AWACS hidden in the clouds above the 37-A were working overtime to keep any message from reaching the Iansislian fleet.

A bemused discussion was taking place in the cockpit of the AWACS.

"Looks like their are trying to send out a message," the co-pilot said.

The pilot chuckled and grinned to himself. "Gotcha."

Meanwhile, the 37-A operator looked around the horizon. As his eyes reached the rear of the plane he saw the first squadron of jets closing in behind them...

F-52 Squadron

Captain Steve "Mad Dog" Casey locked his eyes on the plane in front of him. It didn't appear to be much of a threat to his squadron, but he wanted the element of surprise intact.

"What's the plan, skip?" a voice crackled over the radio.

"We're just observing right now," Casey said. "We're ordered to not fire unless we are fired upon."

"But aren't we already violating Iansislian Airspace?"

"Are we? Well our instruments might be off-kilter a little bit and we might have strayed into their airspace. It's totally innocent."

"Ummm, yes sir. Then maybe this was also totally innocent."

What? Casey thought as the jet to his starboard stormed ahead and closed in on the plane.

de Fenne smiled winningly at Everett; his teeth were a perfect white, which was rare on the Shield. “Ah, my good man, now we are getting somewhere. My office can write a statement enforcing the Republic’s opinion that Jessica Callahan is attending this conference as a private party only. Callahan is free to make whatever declarations she desires.

“If she is willing to attend in a purely private capacity, and publicly acknowledge it as such, the Republic would of course be delighted. However, she should be reminded that she should, in either circumstance, never expect to be referred to as anything but ‘Ms Callahan’ by a member of my negotiating team.”

Jameston Place, Ianapalis

Everett returned de Fenne’s smile in kind. He appreciated the deft manner in which the Director had accepted his compromise in one breath only to take a step back towards the Republic’s initial position in the next. The hallmark of an experienced negotiator, the Excalbian diplomat thought to himself.

“That all sounds acceptable, Mr. de Fenne,” Everett said, “except that, just as we will not require that the Gull Flag Republic publicly acknowledge Her Majesty’s statement that she is, in fact, the Regent of the rightful king of Iansisle, you cannot expect her to publicly acknowledge your statement that she is merely a private citizen attending the conference as a private party.

“We would expect the two sides to issue their own pre-negotiation statements and that the statements will tend to be mutually exclusive and unrecognized by the other party; anything else would constitute a concession on the part of one party or the other.” Everett leaned slightly towards the Iansislean. “So, Mr. de Fenne, do we have an agreement to convene a peace conference?”

OOC: Alright, I think I've neglected this thread in favor of the World Cup for too long. :-/

Excalbia and Valinon, I'll get responses to your posts in my next post.

IC:

Luzon, The Philippines

General Immanuel Tan's group of commandos were hot on the trail of the retreating Ians. Ivan Svatislavsk, Bohemond von Gerlitz, and Pilib MacDonnchad spied upon the minor fortified position on the River Cagayan. The three were from extremely diverse backgrounds, showing the ethnic unity (or at times, disunity) of The Grand Empire. Svatislavsk was a Valerian farmer's son, out on the open and mostly unsettled forestlands of the state of Victoriana. von Gerlitz was a Badenese tinsmith from the city of Zellburg. MacDonnchad was a Celtic shopkeep from the state of Arnach. Each came from a different corner of the empire, and now they find themselves in alien territory together.

(OOC: Ian, is the fort across the bridge and the river? I am assuming it is.)

The fort lied across the Cagayan with a shoddy bridge allowing for traffic over it. Obviously, it would be a bad idea for the Valerians to try and storm the bridge, considering that the weight of the soldiers and their vehicles will strain the bridge. They did not know the bridge was laden with explosives. It seemed that it did not matter, since the corps of engineers with the army would likely set up a new, more sturdy bridge for the Valerian troops. The 11th Thortraia was going to be under assault from artillery and gunfire rather soon.

MacDonnchad radioed back to Immanuel Tan's command, "We've got Gull Flaggers holed up in a fortification across the Cagayan River. A shoddy bridge leads over it, but I wouldn't recommend using it, as it will place our troops in severe disadvantage -- not to mention that it may collapse from the weight of the artillery. Prepare for a siege, with plenty of artillery. The engineer corps should also get to work building a bridge here, and there is plenty of timber around to harvest..."

With the signals in, General Tan ordered for his troops to begin the march inland. The artillery troops were arranged so that they followed closely behind the frontline, in order to set up for an array of massed ordnance against the Ians, who dug into a rather solid position. The Valerians had several artillery pieces, with a couple of tanks as well to provide some strong firepower against the few hundred Ians.

Within a couple of hours, the Valerians began approaching the fortress. Soon, the battle for the Cagayan will begin.

City of Nikeah, Magnus Valerius

Steam hammers striking hot iron. Molten metals splashing into molds. The sounds of several blast furnaces. Such are the sounds of the steel mill. The d'Rennes Steel Works in Nikeah was busy at work producing another new weapon for Magnus Valerius. This "secret weapon" was handed to the plant's officials for production along with some military engineers to oversee the process.

A giant ceramic mold was opened as a freshly made piece of steel popped right out of the shell. This was just one portion of the massive weapon that was to be produced out of this plant and then to be shipped to The Philippines.

"So, lemme get this straight, this is going to be a giant artillery piece?" murmured the steel plant foreman to the head military overseer.

"It sure is. It will be much larger than anything the Germans were able to produce! It will be a lasting symbol of Valerian military and industrial might."

"But, where did the Tsar get such plans for such a cannon?"

"I wonder that myself. He's a nitwit, so I doubt he made the himself."

"Well, I would hope that this cannon works and it turns those Iansislean forts into smoldering craters!"

The mill moved the gigantic piece off into a storeyard and then began producing the next piece for the gargantuan cannon. The cannon will surely be awe-inspiring and fearsome once it is assembled out in the Philippines as planned.

OOC: I'll clear up how these "secret weapons" are being made in my next post.

Jameston Place, Ianapalis

Everett waited anxiously for de Fenne’s reply.

Skyhawk Three, West-Southwest of Cape Jackson

Chief John Ackers looked up from the radar. “No contacts, sir,” he said above the roar of the engine.

Lieutenant Rob Walker nodded. “Radio the flag ship and let them know the way is clear.”

“Aye, sir.”

(OOC: A glorified bump.)

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
The Black Lotus Teahouse

Sir Wayne Pygram was able to take a glimpse of Isangrad's "new" city where towering skyscrapers overshadow the historic city on the opposite bank of the River Vedus. The sidewalks bustled with peoples from all sorts of backgrounds. There were the typical ethnic Valerians, some French and German Valerians, even some Elven Valerians, Greek Valerians, and various other people from the region. There were the token Russian, East Asian, and even Arabic Valerians, whom were mostly immigrants or the descendants of immigrants.

"Lovely car."

Feodor Gagarin replied with a nod. "Thank you, sir. It is the top in Valerian luxury car design! With plush seats filled with goose down and made with real, high-quality Aeolan leather! I'm sure I could arrange for the government to grant you one au gratis if you want, as a gift! They normally run for 137,500 Valerian Crowns (OOC: ~ US$247,500) and are the cars that the nobility love to own."

The car pulled up to a small street shop that was the bottom floor of a twelve-story retail building. This building was crammed in between two apartment and condomidium towers. In big, Cyrillic characters, the building proclaimed itself as the Black Lotus teahouse, but just below the Cyrillic were Roman characters that Sir Wayne could obviously understand much better.

"Here it is. The Black Lotus is the best teahouse in these parts."

The guards escorted the two diplomats inside. "There," Gagarin pointed as the party made their way to a corner of the teahouse. There were comortable seats around a tea table. A young, blonde, and sexy ethnic Valerian woman made her way to the table and smiled. She handed out the menus to the various menus of the group. "Welcome to the Black Lotus Teahouse! I'll be back to take your orders in just a second!"

The menu had various items on it:

Teas
(OOC: Virtually every tea type is available here. From Earl Grey to Green Tea to Kydonian Special Green and Black Teas to the now rare Gallagan Blend Tea)

Appetizers and Tea Sweets
Glazed Apricot Tart
4 Pocket Pies - with cream, peach, apple, orange, blueberry, blackberry, raspberry, or strawberry fillings
Almond Cake
Orange Jam Crepes
Chicken Dumplings

OOC: Just to name a few Valerian treats on the list. I'll have a response to Valinon in a while. I'm RPed out from the CoH right now. :p

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

“Lovely car,” the Excalbian diplomat said.

Feodor Gagarin replied with a nod. "Thank you, sir. It is the top in Valerian luxury car design! With plush seats filled with goose down and made with real, high-quality Aeolan leather! I'm sure I could arrange for the government to grant you one au gratis if you want, as a gift! They normally run for 137,500 Valerian Crowns and are the cars that the nobility love to own."

“A kind offer, your Excellency,” Sir Wayne said somewhat abashed, though he did a good job of hiding it. “Unfortunately, I must decline.”

Sir Wayne looked out the window of Valerian sedan as the car made its way along the river. “An impressive city,” the veteran diplomat said changing the subject.

"Here it is. The Black Lotus is the best teahouse in these parts."

The guards escorted the two diplomats inside. "There," Gagarin pointed as the party made their way to a corner of the teahouse.

Sir Wayne followed Gagarin and the guards into the teahouse and eased himself into one of the comfortable seats. He crossed his long, spindly legs with surprising grace and accepted a menu from the waitress. “Спасибо,” he said in accented Russian.

He ordered an orange-scented black tea and the crepes and sat calmly until the waitress departed. Once she had left the table, he leaned towards the minister. “Shall we get down to business, your Excellency?”

Admiralty House
Ianapalis, the Shield

“Well, we know the Robots are sending a force including the Lion south to reinforce their Timor garrison. With the Republic, that gives us two ships of the line,” said Grand Admiral Martin Hansfield to his Director of Operations. “That should be enough to beat off a group of lubbers like the Valerians.”

“True enough,” said Ops, tapping the cluster of model ships representing the Blue and White fleet. “That would bring our lines of battle to almost even, though the Valerians do have at least three battlecruisers in company.”

“A battlecruiser can’t stand toe-to-toe with a ship of the line,” snorted Hansfield. “Fritz showed as much at Jutland.”

“Still, sir, I’d prefer if we were to detach Indomitable, Resolute and the Battlecruiser Fleet to make their way south with Lion. Republic, although a fine ship, is in dire need of a refit. Not only would that give us a decisive numerical advantage over the Valerians but a considerable advantage in quality of ship, sir. Also, Home Fleet would still have seven ships of the line, which ought to be enough to counter any single threat. If the Excalbians and the Valerians are working together, of course, there’s no chance one ship more or less would make the difference.

“Finally, if our forces near the Philippines are equal, there may arise a question of whether the Robotic Admiral is more qualified to lead the fleet than Admiral Rice. A larger fleet on our part would erase that question.”

The man who before the Revolution would have been known as the First Sea Lord studied the map of the West Pacific carefully, then nodded. “Very well. Make your orders, Captain Be sure to send Salvador and Veritas along with the fleet; we may want their aero cover. I’ll telegraph Kingston and let them know that we wish to join company with the Lion.”

“I will, Admiral,” said Ops. “Though, if you’ll pardon my saying so, sir, I think that the MAFDs may be better served remaining in home waters. The squadrons currently based in Manila, along with the reinforcements from Batam and Gallaga, should prove more than sufficient to...”

“The day I trust my fleet’s safety to the Flying Corps is the same day I’ll be damned. Yes, what is it?”

“Pardon me, Admiral,” said a young yeoman who had just entered. “Field Marshal Chapman is here to see you.”

“Ah, very good,” said Hansfield. “Send him to my office, will you? Good day, captain,” he added to the Operations officer.

Chapman’s green dress uniform, abounding in gold lace, seemed very out of place among the dark blue blazers and white rating’s jumpers of the Admiralty. There was still the feeling that the Army was an inferior service ingrained into the minds of average Iansislean navy men, a stereotype that made the air lay heavy behind Chapman as he followed the yeoman to Hansfield’s office and knocked.

“Enter. Ah, Marshal Chapman! Good to see you!” said Hansfield, as if he had not been expecting the army’s chief officer.

“Likewise, Admiral,” said Chapman. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Even as the highest ranking officer in the Army, Chapman was still subordinate to the Lords of the Admiralty.

“Yes I did. I wanted to know how quickly the Army could assemble a relief expedition to sail to the Philippines.”

“Depends on how large you’d like the force to be, sir.”

“Say 60,000 men. I don’t know if I could scrape together the shipping for many more than that.”

“A month, sir, perhaps less. I’d have to pull a lot of them from the Army of the Jaizar, and that’s still up in northern Gadsan.”

“My fleet will be ready to sail in thirty days from Delton, Marshal Chapman,” said Hansfield shortly. “See that your men and your equipment are on it. Good day.”

Chapman could only salute.

---------

11th Thortraia
On the South Bank of the Cagayan, north of Baggao

“You scared, Art?”

The young Thortraian, on his first deployment out of basic training, could only tighten his white fingers around his rifle and nod. Sean Dunheath smiled at him with the best imitation of reassurance he had. It was hard to be confident when you were crouching in a roughly-dug hole scarcely a yard deep and knew that there was no fallback position behind you.

“Well, don’t be. We’re Foothillsmen and we’ve been told to hold this river. And so we will; God himself couldn’t dislodge a Foothillsman told to hold his ground.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” said Arthur St. Walburg, sneaking a glance over the edge of the makeshift trench which constituted all the Iansisleans defence. “I’m worried that we won’t even be given a chance to fight.”

“Ah, worried about how you’ll react if the sky starts raining shot?” asked Sean. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. The Colonel says we’ve nothing to fear from from Valerian aerocraft and there’s no way we’ll be facing a siege train.”

“You sure about that?” asked Arthur dubiously.

“Positive. Before I signed up with the 11th, I was pressed into His Majesty’s fleet. I served four years before the mast on board old Cougar, some of it as part of Honor-Bound. During that, we had access to the port at Mombasa and it still took ages to unload the artillery and then an age and a half longer to lug everything through Kenya and up to the Sudan where it would do any good. No, Art, the Valerians don’t even have a harbor to use; by the time they get their guns into action, our reinforcements will have come up. We just have to hold off their light forces long enough to give ourselves time to concentrate.”

The words seemed to comfort Arthur at least a little bit, although he could not say anything in reply.

“Just keep your head and stick near me,” said Sean. “We’ll come through this together.”

--------

Spirit 37-A
West of Cape Hunt

Three hundred and ten knots may be nothing to Larkinian jets, but to the crew of an Iansislean twin-engined Spirit, it was positively zooming. Not helping the feeling any was the fact that the pilot had dove for the deck as soon as he identified the Larkinian ship and was now just a few yards above the surface of the misty Marches. The Spirit, luckily, had been designed with a secondary role as a night fighter, so flying blind was not a huge concern; however, all their confidence in their systems nonetheless eroded at least a bit whenever the mist broke and they saw the huge grey swells just below their cockpit.

“Cape Hunt, this is three seven alpha, come in,” said the radranger operator, his voice cracking in panic. “Skip, I can’t reach anybody!”

“There! There!” shouted the spotter, pointing behind them. “I saw something move behind that cloud -- I’m sure of it!”

------

Lenore Room, Admiralty House
Ianapalis, the Shield

Buried beneath sheets and sheets of intercepted Valerian communications waiting to be decoded, Captain Woody Peer took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was surrounded by shelves and shelves filled with cracked naval cyphers used past and present, arranged alphabetically by country. Some expected names were up there -- Effit, Germany, Chiang Mai, Magnus Valerius, Roania, and the United States -- were there, but so were some not quite so expected, such as Lunatic Retard Robots, Great Britain, Calarca, and Walmington on Sea. The Naval Intelligence Office and its lieutenants in Lenore Room kept tabs on all major naval powers, regardless of Ianapalis’ current relations with them.

The Valerians were far better at encrypting their transmissions than Effie had been. Peer and his team had been able to break new Effitian cyphers within a day of their being intercepted, which kept the Admiralty apprised as to Effitian ship movements throughout the war. However, the Valerians were far more clever and it led to one great headache for Peer, who knew that he must break their codes for Iansisle to stand a chance in the war which was quickly spinning out of control.

A sudden flurry of noise in the main section of Lenore Room -- which was actually a vast underground series of bunkers and computers -- drew Peer’s attention. He wondered who was so disturbing his work. Still, he couldn’t help overhearing:

“-- off Sentry. They’re not supposed to be that far north.”

“Someone will have to tell the captain.”

“The captain hell. Someone will have to tell the Grand Admiral.”

“Tell us what?” asked Captain Peer, emerging from his room and straightening his blazer’s sleeve. The other officers of the cryptography division looked sheepishly at one another, before a young lieutenant finally spoke up.

“Sir, we’ve intercepted Excalbian wireless chatter. It was short, but we managed to triangulate it. They’re right off Sentry Island, just below the Weshield Straits.”

It took a second for the information to sink in. “We’ll have to let the Grand Admiral know. And be sure to remind him to send a recon flyer to buzz the fleet and let them see it; no use letting them suspect we are able to intercept their wireless transmissions.”

-------

GFS Sanguine
The Mansmouth Roads, the Shield

“..has been sighted by a Spirit near Cape Jackson. Therefore, you are hereby requested and required to sail your fleet with all dispatch to the Weshield to deny the Excalbian fleet use of the Straits. The shore batteries have been instructed to fire upon any large man-of-war traveling farther east than the tip of Cape Jackson, so be advised to stay to the open ocean. The Excalbian representative in Ianapalis has also been informed that the Straits are closed to them. If pursuing the Excalbians into Troobodia Bay becomes an inevitability, contact Admiralty at once so that appropriate arrangements can be made to prevent friendly fire incidents. You are authorized to fire on Excalbian ships if fire is received from them or if they attempt to pass to the east of Cape Jackson. In the name of God and the Republic, fail not in this task.”

Admiral of the Red Richard Donahue, commanding Home Fleet after the trial and execution of Philip Clayburgh, the ci-devant Marquess of Westergate, for treason, did not let his hands shake after putting down the message. It had been only a week since he took command of the fleet, and many of the commanders and crews were still loyal to their dead chief. And now he was to take them to sea, and possibly to war.

Yet it was impossible to refuse. A potentially hostile fleet at large in Troobodia Bay would mean untold work for the Navy and thousands of generals in lost revenue as unprotected merchantmen, confident in their invulnerability in Iansisle’s mare nostrum, were forced to scurry for the nearest fortified port. Donahue hoped that Excalbia had received Ianapalis’ warning of fire from shore batteries well; however, he knew that if a fleet of modern fast battleships wished to steam past the batteries, it would be easy. Home Fleet, which would need half an hour to get under way and another three hours to reach the Weshield Straits from its base in Mansmouth, would be the only unit which could stop the Excalbians should they wish to start a war.

Half an hour later, the first darkened shape loomed out of the Roads and into the mist of the Marches, following a screen of destroyers which pinged away with their ASDIC. Another giant followed the first, then another and another -- eight ships of the line in two lines ahead disposed abeam, their crews at action stations, their big guns ready for war. Far to the south, the Battlecruiser Fleet, in company with Admiral Redford’s cruisers, turned sharply to the north and began a tail chase of the Excalbians’ vessels at a blistering thirty knots.

-------

#3 Jameston Place
Ianapalis, the Shield

“We have an agreement, Mr Everett,” said de Fenne, easily reaching one hand over to shake the Excalbians’ hand.

And then a messenger from the Admiralty entered with a note for Everett. de Fenne, ignorant of the contents, waited patiently while Everett read of the Navy’s intention to fire upon his country’s ships if they were to steam east of Cape Jackson in the Weshield Strait.

((ooc: pshew! I think that’s everything I’ve got going on in this thread right now. If I’m forgetting anyone or a part of anyone’s post, bonk me on the head. And now, I am off to bed. >.<))

(OCC: Posting as LRR).

IC:

Off Cape MacMillan

With nightfall, Riasanovsky's squadron reaches Cape MacMillan and still-poor weather, and ideally Redford's cruiser squadron as well. The darkness and rain combine to render the Furious's long-range optics next to useless, and the range-handicapped, but otherwise useful, Kingston-J surface search radar comes into its own. Riasanovsky's squadron does not spend long around the approaches to the Skull before the detector picks up some returns.

"Multiple surface contacts, north by northeast! This group of contacts matches Admiral Redford's last transmitted position."

"Twenty marks to port, left standard rudder. Maintain speed. Prepare to flash message: RN Cruiser squadron YL-5 arrived. Request orders."

"Aye, sah!"

Sure enough, the Furious's Aldis lamp flashes out Riasanovsky's message in the direction indicated by the radio detector set. If it wasn't for the Admiralty's insistence on radio silence, Furious and the rest of the Robotstani ships would likely have already found Redford's command, but the better Iansislean radrangers probably have a good fix on the squadron's position, and Riasanovsky doesn't expect to be sneaking up on anyone at this stage.

120 Miles South of Lesser Kingston

The Lion and her squadron, meanwhile, making good speed towards Timor, are ordered to turn around and head back into Kingston Harbour. With a trio of Gull Flagger battlecruisers and two carriers headed to join the Robotstanis, it would be highly rude in addition to somewhat dangerous not to wait for them. A small contingent of Robotstani light infantry is also assembled at Kingston with the purpose of reinforcing the Timor Brigade. Numbering only a few hundred, plus a pair of Penguin scout cars, it isn't enough to cause the Valerians much worry. But Admiral Tripura will no doubt find a use for anything that Kingston gives him.

For the sailors, most of them itching for action, the turn-around is frustrating, especially after having spent the better part of a day already at sea, and since the short wait in the navy yard won't allow them any time to go ashore. But at the same time, it is comforting to have ships from a larger, probably more experienced, and unquestionably better-equipped navy on their side in a fight. And the Valerian fleet doesn't strike the Robotstani sailors as a terribly easy target.

Kingston Navy Yard

In the capital itself, the Admiralty prepares to send another one of its precious battleships south to Timor, this time the veteran PNS Conqueror, whose 15" rifles put paid to the Royalist Soveriegn and killed Robotstan's own royal family. Like all the Lion-class ships, she is the beneficiary of constant upgrades in fire control and detection systems, and therefore doesn't have quite as much to worry about as the Jervis class cruisers, for instance, but at only just below 40,000 tons displacement they may very well be a good deal smaller than their Valerian foes, and likely carry fewer guns and of a smaller caliber. One advantage that the Admiralty thinks it can count on, though, is in torpedo and night fighting. The Kingston 21" Mk.XII, a superb depth-keeper capable of 41 knots, is mounted in four triple launchers on the also very quick Dili class of cruisers, and in two quadruple launchers on the extremely fast Lobster class destroyers. Kingston's armory continues to churn Mk.XII weapons out at a furious rate, while at the same time working diligently to meet orders for the RB-03 anti-ship missile, or "Flying Torpedo" as many captains have called it.

GFS Titan
Ten miles east of the mouth of the Daldon

“Shoot!”

The nine sixteen inch guns of the Titan belched fire and smoke to port as they released a mighty broadside into the unsuspecting ocean. The crash of their report echoed off the low, rolling hills of the Vesshampton coast. Indomitable, trailing the older Behemoth-class by one thousand yards and wearing the green ensign of Rear Admiral Sandmoor, raised a congratulatory signal and the flag to ‘continue exercises’.

The current crisis had caught two of Iansisle’s most powerful battleships completely unprepared. Indomitable, which had suffered the humiliation of being torpedoed by an Effitian submarine in the Mansmouth Roads, had been working up near Troobodia after six months in an Ianapalis dry dock. Titan had been laid up in a Vesshampton yard undergoing a routine refit when news of the Valerian declaration of war arrived. A week of fevered, round-the-clock work had sewn her back up again, but she was forced to sail without a proper working up.

As a result, Titan had sailed with a number of civilian workmen still aboard making final adjustments to her guns and engines. The plan was for Admiral Sandmoor to drop the civilians off in Harbor City on the western coast of Sentry Island and meet up with Vice Admiral Jones’ Battlecruiser Fleet before heading to Kingsford to rendezvous with the Lion for their journey to the South Pacific. In the mean time, the two battleships also provided a significant -- if perhaps not at peak efficiency -- force between the Excalbians and the vulnerable trade routes inside Troobodia Bay. They plied their way westerly at an easy ten knots, zigzagging to avoid any submarines that might have penetrated the vast A/S defences in the Straits.

((ooc NB: I know in my last post, I said it was Resolute that would be joining Indomitable in the voyage to the south Pacific. I just reread some old posts and saw that I had said Titan was the ship being refitted. I apologize for the confusion. Titan will be going to the Philippines; Resolute will be staying with Home Fleet.))

GFS Active
West of Cape MacMillan

Between the darkness and the mist, visibility from Admiral Redford’s flagship was practically nil. However, the Robotic cruisers had been picked up on radranger; the officer of the watch had been about to challenge them when the signal was received. Despite the apparent friendly nature of the signal, he decided -- in accordance with Redford’s standing orders -- to send the challenge anyway. Battles, even wars had been decided on proper identification of friend from foe, and this hardly seemed the time to be letting slack into the system.

The Robots knew the proper response to the challenge, of course -- the Admiralties in Ianapalis and Kingston were in frequent contact -- and the deck officer signaled for the Robotic cruisers to take position abaft the Active. They were steaming north with Battlecruiser Fleet to help Home Fleet meet the Excalbians, should push come to shove, and were then to join Jones’ and Sandmoor’s commands in sailing for Kingston and thence to the Philippines.

((ooc: I’m going to try to keep up with each person’s post as it comes out. The gap between my last two posts was absolutely unprofessional; I know I hate to be kept waiting for weeks on end in RPs, and I should not disrespect a great group of players such as yourselves with a pause like that. You all have my apologies and my promise to try and do better.))

The Imperial Palace
Magnus Valerius

A bookish, aged man with crazy white hair and unbelievably large and thick glasses wandered through the extravagant halls of the Imperial Palace. Officially know as the Isander Palace, it was supposively built on the site where the founder of the city of Isangrad, Isander the Horseman, built his outpost many hundreds of years ago. This palace was first built as a minor house for the House Cambridge (which ruled over Magnus Valerius) before it was converted to an imposing stone chateau by Empress Victoria I; it was made into her permanent residence. Emperor Basil III and Ivanna I further expanded and decorated the palace to its modern beauty.

This mad scientist of sort peered into an art room, where Alexander III was busy trying to figure out where to hang a newly purchased painting. Alexander III was a fan of abstract art, an obvious break from tradition in the Valerian palace, but even so, he was the emperor. Not many laws could hold him back, after all.

"Excuse me, your Most Imperial Highness," spoke the man.

Alexander III turned around and answered deadpan, "Yes?"

"Oh, I just wanted to let you know that my PyroMatic Bomb Mk. XII was a huge success! I heard it was detonated on some Iansislean backwater colony and it stirred up a firestorm. It was only a prototype, and it was lauched on some hapless plantation..."

"I'm cancelling that project," the emperor said solemnly.

"But... but..."

"It's not flashy enough. However, your GigaCannon project is most intriguing! I am sure that a giant cannon could easily obliterate the Ians. Were it not for the Treaty of Tyre we could develop advanced missiles and weapons of great suffering, like those 'Nu-Clee-Uhr' things you occassionally mention. I just barely got away with developing the Bumblebee rockets. But now, with your cannon, I could hastily end this conflict. Besides, your Pyro-Things can be launched from it, I assume?"

"Why yes, Your Majesty. Speaking of the GigaCannon, I've come to report that the first pieces have come off the assembly line in the Nikeahn steel mills. I calculate that its pieces shall be completed and ready to ship to the front line in 14 days, 15 hours, 44 minutes, and 18..."

"That's enough!" the emperor sputtered. "Now, come back when you have some more interesting developments."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty!"

The scientist made his way out of the palace, and soon went down the street. However, he did not head for his laboratory down on Rose Street; he wandered to the opposite direction down on Emperor George Boulevard. There, he met with a mysterious man clad in brown monastic robes.

"He is more belligerent as each day passes. A definite candidate."

"You mean, he could be a great danger to the people?"

"Yes... So would you..."

The monk whispered in the scientist's ear.

"You mean--!" said the shocked old researcher, taken aback by the monk's comments. He stared at a passing car before nodding and walking silently back to his lab. Something was afoot, but it was only known to the weapons developer, the monk, and a handful of other unseen people.

In the meantime, Alexander III sent in his letters to the Valinor.
----
Message To: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Royal Jessica II, Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message From: His Imperial and August Majesty the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message Re: Re: Re: The Support of Mutual Friends

Your Imperial Majesty,

We are warmed by your kind words and thoughts, men-from-the-stars. With such encouragement, I feel obligated to expend my resources to the limit to bring an end to the weak-willed Gull Flag Republic and bring a swift death to everyone involved in its creation and operation. May God damn them to the icy depths of Hell for drawing their swords on the rightful ruler of Iansisle, High King James III Callahan.

I must thank you and the rest of the Valinor People for all of your diplomatic and material support. I shall make sure that the lives of your soldiers are rightfully guarded. May I also ask, would it be possible, if things get messy, for you to send some of your technology to us? Considering you are reaching out to me from a distant star system, I am sure you might have some advanced yet simple technology that could nudge the tide of the war. I would not be crestfallen if you do not send us some of your technology. I do wish to offer whatever help we could offer you with your own conflict once we are through with the Ians. I'm not sure how we could reach your homeland, but maybe we can find a way!

I am glad that we could create a friendship, and I hope this one will last beyond the conclusion of the war with the Gull Flag Republic. I offer you my prayers and wishes to support your own war effort, and I once again assure you that I will strive to bring an end to the Gull Flag Republic. My heart is devoted to such a cause, and for as long as I live, I shall not fail.

With sincerest gratitude and hope,
Alexander III Borivich

**********

Message To: Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Undaunted, in the service of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine
Message From: His Imperial and August Majesty the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message Re: Re: Disposition of My Forces at Your Disposal

Herr Commander,

I am most pleased that you are willing to cooperate for me and The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius. Although you and your troops are what the People of Valinon could only spare the Valerian People, we are glad to have you alongside us in this conflict. Knowing that you are supporting us from Earth's orbit gives me yet more resolve and security, and I thank you and your men for helping us and risking your lives for this just cause of exterminating an illegitimate government.

I thank you for having your Ferret Drones patrol the seas and creating a recon network of The Shield. It will be invaluable for my forces. At the moment, I am reinforcing my force in the Philippines, sending another battlefleet towards the Philippines along with 100,000 men. Having the ferrets alongside them will be most useful. You may release all of your Precentors as you see fit, commander. Make strikes against Davao, and I'm sure we can very well see the cessation of Iansislean air activity. That would be one less threat to us. I agree that fear is a key aspect in this war, since the Gull Flag Republic is still in its infancy and perhaps their troops will lose what loyalty they have to a bunch of regicidal party hacks.

As for your Reichswehr contingent, Hauptmann Mount will be welcome. At the moment, we are about to lay siege to a small fortification in Baggao, where they are most needed. I hear from my commanders that the artillery they are dragging along are mostly light or medium pieces, without any tanks or large pieces available for action at the moment. This "assault power armor" you speak of... if only I could see what it does in action. However, I am glad that you could send them right now. They can join the 40,000 or so Valerians already in action and help support them. I will let my commanders know that they should treat the Reichswehr contingent as elite troops and to keep them as protected as possible while keeping them at a position of the most use. As for your transports, could they be used to transport Valerian troops or to supply them in case they are cut off by a surprise force?

As for your reserves, if things get rough for my forces in the Philippines, you are willing to deploy whatever else you could spare? I'm sure that the Ians and their allies will soon be sending relief forces to try and stop the forces of The Grand Empire, and they will likely fail... however, I am only asking if things become quite dire. Lastly, I understand that you cannot spare your drop pods. It is quite fine.

Commander, I indeed will let you personally know of any developments in the Grand Empire and its actions. As for Hauptmann Mount, please let him know that General Immanuel Tan is The Grand Empire's current commander of the Philippines Theatre and that he should keep close contact with General Tan once he is on the ground.

With this, I offer you my sincerest thanks.

Sincerely,
His Imperial Majest Tsar Alexander III


OOC: I'll get the rest later.

In Orbit

Markus Kowle brushes the front of his day uniform where some crumbs had fallen from his brief lunch while he composed a reply to the Valerians. It is in the deep, almost black navy color, but bears none of the dress uniforms ornamentation. Other than the four grey bars on black at his shoulders, Kowle’s uniform looks little different from that of a junior officer. In Her Majesty’s Kriegsmarine command and its display originate from more than just mere rank insignia and trappings, and that is instilled in every officer from the moment they enter the service.

Appropriately prepared Kowle opens the lift and steps out into the corridor that leads to the bridge. The Sardaukar at his post comes to attention and salutes. Kowle relives him with a deep nod. Then he steps onto the bridge of the Undaunted.

“Kapitan, on the bridge!” comes the rapid reply from Kapitanleutnant Acreson.

Kowle steps up as Acreson stands from the captain’s station, abandoning his position while his commanding officer assumes the duties as officer of the watch.

“Any news from down below, Acreson?”

“Hauptmann Mount’s contingent has left, burning hard toward the Philippines right now, sir. We are also picking up a substantial Iansislean fleet moving toward Davao, appears to be a convoy of a battleship, a carrier, and a destroyer screen. No word yet on the Western Marches, but the Daring should be completing the sensor network momentarily and then we will have a full report. No military traffic from the Shield detected by the Ferret patrols though, sir.”

“A fleet moving toward Davao?” Kowle murmurs as he looks at the duty reports and feeds Acreson had transferred to his n-plants and wet-ware. They supplement the feeds displayed in the holotank, but Kowle starts to transfer them to the larger projection. He still finds it more comfortable to think with as little clutter in his virtual vision and optical implants as possible.

“Yes, sir.”

Kowle activates the Undaunted’s RI. The avatar—a slim man, dressed in a military cut uniform with no insignia, and looking very much like the long-dead Prince Viktor who had perished aboard the cruisers he had served on centuries ago—appears a few moments later.

“Kapitan?”

“Are the Precentors ready for deployment?”

“Final preparations have been completed, sir. I was awaiting confirmation for the operation’s commencement.”

“Redirect one of the flights to pay this fleet a visit, Vik. If we can cause enough of a panic they may reconsider their position in these waters. Comm?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Forward this information along to Hauptmann Mount. The Valerians will most likely want to know about this when he hits dirt-side.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Vik, you have permission to commence the operation. Give the Gull Flaggers something to tell their grandchildren about.”

“Yes, Kapitan.”

Earth

Three hulking black and grey shapes—ugly in their utter display of pure functionality—finish their descent through Earth’s atmosphere and start to accelerate toward the Valerian beachhead in the Philippines. The sheer contrast between the Reichswehr Intruder-class assault transports and the final two members of the small imperial convoy—two Star-class transports done in the graceful, sleek lines infinitely more common in the Star Empire and even in the Kriegsmarine—is so extreme that it could be considered atrocious. To believe that both ship types were produced and operated by the same nation would be inconceivable, and still seems hard to fathom even with the golden lion, sword, and sun crest of Valinon boldly painted behind both types’ cockpits.

The transports start to decelerate as they approach the Valerian encampment, and fill the common channels of the Valerian military with identification codes from the Kriegsmarine. The convoy makes an arc around the perimeter of the Valerian encampment that ends with a short descent and a landing on the fringes of the camp.

When settled on the ground the Intruders resemble more of a hulking leviathan transplanted from some bizarre, Victorian myth than ever. Egress ramps descend in rapid order from the assault transports and Mount’s company rapidly forms up in front of the transports.

Five of Mount’s squads—for a total of forty men—are dressed in the full power armor of the Reichswehr. The is coated in the camo-functioned nanite-paint common to the Reichwehr, although it remains charcoal grey trimmed with black for the moment. It is perhaps good that the armored troops carry their helmets, without them their humanity may be questioned. The power armor gives its wearer a formidable stature at slightly over 2.5-meters, not to mention the wet-wired connections to enhanced strength, stamina, and the suits plethora of combat systems from weapons to sensors. The armored troops carry no visible weapons, but then with the armor’s capabilities they hardly need to.

The rest of the Mount’s company, including himself, are perhaps something closer to what the Valerians may expect. The remaining 140 men all wear the standard issue danger suit—a composite of armor and armor weave equipped with nanite-paint camo and Flickinger systems for NBC protection. While they are forming up the danger suits seem to shift and meld, then the adaptive systems morph the grey and black to a camo blend that lends itself to the surrounding environment—although the pattern shifts at random as it tries to find an optimum pattern in the open. Most of the troopers carry the streamlined Impaler-class rapid-fire gauss rifle and a side-arm, but a few of them on the support or command staff lack the Impaler and a few others carry different looking weaponry. But all of them not wearing the power armor carry the sinister looking meter-long combat knife of the Reichswehr.

Mount, in his danger suit, storms through the middle of the formation followed by the armored bulk of Leutnant Wagner, the CO of the power armor contingent. Mount’s eyes coolly regard the Valerian forces, looking for someone that has any sort of rank insignia. He turns around looking at the camp personnel.

“I am Hauptmann Peter Mount of Her Imperial Majesty Reichswehr, United Star Empire of Valinon. And I need to speak to your theater command officer as soon as possible.”

Intruder-class assault transport (http://www.3drt.com/3dm/drop-ship/ds-05_03.jpg)

Star-class transport (http://www.mst3k.com/darkstar/images/f88%2002.jpg)

Reichswehr armor (http://www.steelfalcon.com/Macross/Images/renegade1.gif)

Reichswehr danger suit (http://www.duneinfo.com/miniseries/costumes/images/sardaukar.jpg)

**********

While Mount’s company lands at the Valerian beachhead, six new shapes are descending through Earth’s atmosphere toward the Philippine isle of Davao. The stubby-winged, elongated bodies of six Precentor-class fighters dial down their gravimetrics as they away instructions from their governing RI aboard the Undaunted. For several minutes they wait as information is gathered from the sensor network established by the two cruisers, as well as the feeds from the Ferret drones. Suddenly the six-drone flight separates into two smaller flights of three and both race toward Davao at full speed. Steadily their courses start to diverge, as one flight continues to sweep across the open ocean while the other pressed on toward the Iansislean aerospace outpost.

There is nothing subtle about the course either flight takes. None of the six Precentors activates more than its most basic EW and ECM packages. Part of this is because of the disregard the Kriegsmarine has for the technology of the Gull Flag Republic—what “missiles” could they possibly field that could touch a fully shielded Precentor?—but most of this is because of the simple fact that Kapitan Kowle wants the Precentors to be seen.

Repeated, deafening booms fill the air as the drones build speed, and ravage the sound barrier. The drones approaching the island force the trees to bend and tremble as they start to make their passage toward the base. Meanwhile their sister flight pulls an arc that produces enough Gees to make any human pilot black-out and leave him at the mercy of increased gravitational force. Limited only by the endurance of their structural materials and systems, the Precentors’ RI governor cares little. It orders an increase in acceleration and makes to intercept the approaching Iansisle force led by the Republic within ten minutes at the most.

The flight approaching the base starts to broadcast across the known channels used by the Gull Flag forces as they approach and the message is a simple one:

Maintain your units on the ground if you wish to save the lives of their pilots.

The message cycles endlessly.

**********

Message To: His Imperial and August Majesty, the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Mangus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message From: Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler, Her Imperial Majesty’s Fourth Minister for Foreign Affairs, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador to the Dutch Democratic Republic of Knootoss, Her Imperial Majesty’s Ambassador-at-large to Earth, Her Imperial Majesty’s Resident Consul to the Regency of Her Royal Majesty Princess Jessica II, Royal Princess-Regent of the Shield and its Dominions
Message Re: Unfortunate Regrets

Your Imperial Majesty,

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government deeply regret that we cannot provide additional support for your valiant efforts in the defense of the rights of House Callahan at this time. Our own needs to defend the Vaterland and the Empire from the ravages of the Ortagan Hegemony and its military dictate that we maintain as many of our resources as possible at home.

Rest assured, Your Majesty, that I will continue to speak on behalf of your efforts in order to generate additional support. If nothing more, I will see if I can transfer some materials from our diplomatic enclave’s defenses in Knootoss in the following months.

However, it is deeply the wish of Her Imperial Majesty and the Government that the friendship being established between our two nations be expanded far beyond the current issue of the Gull Flag Republic. Perhaps in less violent and crude times all the wishes and dreams of both our nations can be realized.

With sincerest respect,
Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler
For Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government

**********

Message To: His Imperial and August Majesty the Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message From: Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Undaunted, in the service of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine
Message Re: Further Plans an Information

Your Most Imperial Majesty,

Rest assured that the available transports at my command will be used to provide logistical support—and possible extraction—in the event that men bearing the flags and arms of the Grand Empire are cut off from their normal lines of supply. The same can be said of the company I have held in reserve aboard the Daring. Should the campaign in the Philippines take a turn for the worse I will at the very least deploy them to cover any withdrawal or relocation of the troops of the Grand Empire.

I am also appealing to both Vizeadmiral Virgil Severns, commanding the Sol System Task Force, and Generalmajor Jurgen Ehrhart, command the Reichswehr units in Sol, to send additional support from our primary forces on Mars. Lord Reinstadler has informed me has taken similar moves, and I will coordinate with him to see if we can generate an expedient response.

There is also a matter I wish to inform you of, Your Majesty. Our orbital surveillance has detected a considerable element of the Gull Flag fleet sailing toward Davao. The naval compliment appears to consist of a battleship, a carrier, and a destroyer screen. I have dispatched three of my Precentor-class drones to pay the Kriegsmarine’s respects to these ships, but I assume that your own admiralty may wish to prepare an appropriate response as well. I have instructed Hauptmann Mount to pass this information along to General Tan and your other local theater commanders.

Also, Your Majesty, if you have wish to see the Reichswehr’s power armor, I am sure I could arrange an appropriate—if brief—demonstration for your benefit.

Markus Kowle
Kapitan zur Sternen, commanding

The Valerian Beachhead, North of the Cagayan
The 31st Imperial Rifles, 12th Artillery/Machinegunners "Hachimaki", 36th "Francois" Infantry Division, 44th "Yakovich" Engineers, and the 14th Cossacks "Aldermayer" Division

With about 25,000 men strong, General Tan decided to press forward with all the artillery the Valerians were able to unload. Most of the artillery are small field pieces, and the largest piece that they were able to bring was a medium mortar, pulled by a team of horses. The other larger pieces were still at the beachhead, and Tan thought that the predicted size of the Iansislean force -- a couple of thousand -- did not warrant the need for every single piece of weaponry to be taken to the field. The lone rocket launcher, which is little more than a horse-drawn cart with a Bumblebee Rocket mounted auspiciously upon it, was also left behind. The rockets don't tend to do much damage, except when it comes to large buildings. They could be useful if they were aimed at a besieged city or a large army, but in a skirmish against a couple of thousand troops, they are wasted firepower.

Already, the Cossacks, with their fearsome black uniforms and sharp, Valerian swords (shashkas), had mounted their horses and were making preperations for the march to the Iansislean position that were dutifully held by a doomed Iansislean division. The "Francois" Infantry Division, comprised mostly of Franco-Valerians, cheered with cheap champagne to give them the "power" of ferocious Dutch Courage to press on into battle. The Valerians had their vodka ration with the 12th "Hachimaki" and the 44th "Yakovich".

Yet, what these soldiers, already fired up with alcohol and utter Valerian valour, soon saw a spectacle of a lifetime. From the air came three grotesque, yet unfathomable ships, screaming towards the ground. Along with them came two more ships, designed with finesse rather than functionality. They let the Valerian commanders and channels know that they were sent from the Reichsmarine of the United Star Empire. Even though the commanders were at ease, the soldiers were on edge as the strange foreign contraptions came to a calm landing on a clearing near the makeshift headquarters constructed from logs and tarp. They were so indiscriminate from the rest of the encampment that no one would ever think they housed General Tan and some of the other officers.

A crowd surrounded the five transports, all with Valerians who were almost ready to march out to battle. Many horses were startled at the image of the machines, so the cossacks had to stay clear from them and decided to watch the spectacle from a safe, clear distance. As the ramps unfolded, the company of strange extraplanetary soldiers piled out in front of the crowd of onlookers, bringing some alarm to the Valerians in the immediate vicinity of the men of the Reichswehr, especially those wearing the power battle armor.

As Mount paraded his forces into the awestruck Valerians, General Tan emerged from the headquarters and gasped after witnessing the foreigners and their unfathomable level of technology (when of course compared with Valerian military technology; Valerian technology looks horribly archaic when compared with the technology of the United Star Empire). The General was not imposing. He was 5'10", an average height for many Valerians. He was young, and his medium frame is hardly the image of the romanticized commanders of the ages of yore. He quickly took a megaphone to announce to his troops, just after Hauptmann Mount inquired for the theatre commander from a Brigadier General; a Brigadier General in Magnus Valerius bore a single-headed golden eagle resting upon a star as an insignia.

"This is your General speaking! Please leave our friends, the Valinor, some breathing space!" Tan shouted through the megaphone. The soldiers complied as they backed away from the Reichswehr detachment and allowed General Tan access. Tan and his general staff rushed towards Mount, and gave them a military salute. His four stars and Imperial Eagle insignia wrapped in a laurel wreath crown was the clear markings of a General in Magnus Valerius. His chest was decorated with numerous honours and General Tan's average appearance underplayed his skill.

"Greetings, Comman... err, Hauptmann. I am General Immanuel B. Tan, General of the Valerian Expeditionary Force to the Iansislean Colonies. I am most honored to have finally met our unseen allies from the stars, and I must offer you my thanks for coming to aid us. As you can see, we are rather... unaccustomed to such refined weaponry." Tan grabbed a rifle from one idle soldier. "As you can see, we use this Bartleby 5mm Magnum Bolt-Action Battle Rifle, which is powerful and effective, but is nowhere near your weaponry, I've heard. Such battle armor... it's impressive!"

Tan soon lost himself like the other soldiers, admiring the battle armor, like children eyeing a particular toy. It was fascinating for the backwards Valerians to see such machines, and they imagined how the even more backwards Ians would sweat when these things smash their garrison units to bits alongside the Valerian riflemen, machinegunners, artillery, and charging cossacks.

----

The Imperial Palace, Isangrad

After satisfying himself with his last meal to be eaten in the palace halls for awhile, Tsar Alexander III quickly submitted his message to Kapitan Kowle before packing his bags and Emperor's Military Uniform with him. He grabbed a sword, a fine steel edge kept in a lacquer scabbard, and an assortment of small arms. The Emperor was leaving today for the front, and his wife was coming along too. As soon as the Tsar submitted his letter, he immediately left with the Empress for the train station down the street. They were to travel with the 100,000 reinforcements to be sent to the Shieldian colonies, along with a large myriad of ships, including five Ivan I class dreadnoughts.

Message To: Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Undaunted, in the service of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine
Message From: His Most Imperial Highness Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven
Message Re: Re: Further Plans and Information

Most Noble Kowle,

Thank you for offer whatever tools you have to offer in aid for this conflict. Rest assured, you could very well turn the tide of this war! I am rather pleased to know that you may try to draw more troops here, although I would like for you to not draw too many of your nation's troops away; I would not want your nation's outposts here in the Solar System to be vulnerable.

I am interested in witnessing your power armor, although I would rather see them in action. In fact, I might well see them in the Philippines, for I have made up my mind -- I will personally lead a detachment of 2,000 Valerian Elite troops. You need not trouble yourself to send some power armor to personally please me, for I will go to them. I have already organized together 100,000 men and additional ships to be sent to that front, and I shall go along with them. Also, the Iansisleans have grossly underestimated our fleet in The Philippines. Your Reichswehr detachments will also see the pinnacle of Valerian industrial and military might; there is a secret weapon under development that will be completed within a couple of weeks and will be shipped to the front. Although I am sure you would consider this "pinnacle" primitive on your scale of refinement, it means a lot for my nation to produce the 8th Wonder of the World...

Since I am heading off right after I dispatch this communique, I will not be able to contact you. Therefore, I will also wire you the channels to send messages to General Tan, the acting commander in The Philippines Theater, and Admiral Angelovich, commander of the White and Blue Fleet, currently in operation in The Philippines. In fact, Admiral Angelovich will contact you first.

I bid you farewell and thank you again for offering your support and intelligence. We will win this war... together!

Sincerely,

Tsar Alexander III Borivich
Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

----


Message To: Kapitan zur Sternen Markus Kowle, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Undaunted, in the service of Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine
Message From: Admiral Yakov A. Angelovich, Admiral of the White and Blue Fleet, Under the Grace of the Tsar
Message Re: Greetings From Angelovich

Herr Kapitan,

I am Admiral Angelovich, commander of the Valerian naval forces in action around The Philippines. The Tsar has informed me that you should relay any developing naval intelligence to me to facilitate action. I must say, I am impressed that you could pick up an Iansislean convoy further than what my radrangers could pick up. Thank you for the intelligence. These Ians have grossly underestimated the numbers of the Valerian naval forces and they might see their relief convoy sink with the Gull Flag Republic's grasp on its colony here in The Philippines.

Our intelligence and scout planes have also alerted us to a Robostani squadron heading towards us at the moment, which could pose a minor threat, but nothing that could be worried over about.

Both the Robostanis and the Ians have been misinformed by their intelligence officers on our numbers here, and they will dreadfully pay for their mistake. At the moment we have three dreadnoughts, with the HMS Ivan I being the most formidable ship to ever launch from Valerian shipwrights. The flagship of the fleet, the HMS Sankt Valerian, is a carrier, and we also have four battlecruisers on board, along with a mess of light cruisers, destroyers, and submarines. Add the approaching Valerian reinforcements, and you'll have perhaps an unstoppable Valerian naval presence amongst the Iansislean colonies.

I would once again thank you for giving me the heads up on the coming Ians. We are quickly making preperations for them and the Robostanis. Your Precentors could deliver the shock to demoralize the Ians, while we could deliver the firepower. As for the Robostanis, we have already arranged for them to face our ship-busting rocket bombs, if facing down our dreadnoughts isn't enough for them. If you have any further naval intelligence, feel free to relay them to me.

Sincerely,
Admiral Yakov Angelovich

OOC: Alright, tomorrow, I shall post on the whereabout of my original force that was being sent to Iansisle proper... they kinda disappeared off the map. :p

West of Cape MacMillan

The Robostani warships, still in line ahead formation and still lead by the Furious, make their turns very carefully and neatly. A collision is a very real possibility in such poor visual conditions, and a very close watch is kept at the radio detector displays for screening destroyers or other fast-moving vessels that might just cross Riasanovsky's path without too much warning. Once Active is located, via signalling from the erstwhile Aldis Lamp, the Robotstanis slide into formation without too much trouble, still extremely wary of collisions and therefore maintaining near perfect order. With the addition of the four Jervis class light cruisers and eight Parrot class destroyers, Redford can at least safely consider his air-defense capabilities improved. The cruisers, refitted Didos purchased from the British, each carry five twin 5.25" dual-purpose mounts, in addition to some eight Bofors L/60s. Two of the destroyers carry the optically-guided SeaCat anti-aircraft missile system, with four missiles carried ready-to-fire in an aft launcher. The other six each mount eight Bofors L/60s in a mix of twin high-angle and single emplacements, with either one or two 4.5" DP twin mountings forward, depending on the presence or lack of RB-03/04 Guided Rocket Torpedoes.

For surface action, the ships are less well-prepared, the cruisers' small-caliber DP guns more or less useless against similar-sized ships, and their six torpedo tubes insufficient compared to many foreign vessels. Riasanovsky's destroyer squadron, though, counts among its numbers PNS Parakeet and PNS Kea, fitted with four RB-04 GRTs, potentially devastating and long-range weapons, although untested in combat and unlikely to seriously damage the hull of an armored warship.

Kingston Navy Yard

With Lion back in port, the Admiralty takes the opportunity to heavily reinforce her battlegroup, this time attaching, besides Conqueror, the heavy cruisers Kampala, James, and Wickramsinghe, the light cruisers Al-Khals and Oman, the destroyers Bluebonnet, Nephropides, Thymops, Homarinus, Wandering Albatross, Tristian Albatross, and Chatham Albatross, as well as the oiler Diligent and the stores ship Ochroma. As this somewhat unbalanced force awaits the arrival of the Iansislean battlecruisers, Robotstani marines and light infantry embark, some one thousand men in all. Most of them are accomodated aboard the Conqueror and Lion, with smaller detachments dispersed amongst the rest of the ships. Besides the two Penguin scout cars, they bring along very little heavy equipment, only a six-piece battery of Baby 25 Pounders and a four-piece battery of QF 6 Pounder antitank guns.

These troops, though, are some of the best and most experienced that Robotstan has to offer, having seen action against king Miquel's royalists in addition to Japanese marines and German raiders. And they are well-equipped, with one Ivanograd No.2 LMG per four troopers and above-average stores of grenades.

The problem now, as the Admiralty sees it, is that, with nearly all the navy's fast destroyers and two of its battleships headed to Timor, it has become impossible for Robotstan to deploy a full-strength, battle-ready fleet in the North Pacific. At least, unless Parliament approves a naval expansion, a thing which is not likely to happen as even the RLP faces internal division in light of Jorge Mondlan's support of the Gull Flag Republic. Four new heavy cruisers, the long-awaited Parliament class, are the only new ships on order and can be seen nearing completion on their slipways. One, perhaps, might be done in time to see action with the Valerians. But if the reactionaries turn their guns towards the Robotic Archipelago, Kingston is very much in trouble.

Dili

The capital of Robotstan's only overseas possession, tiny Timor first taken from the Portuguese and then successfully defended from the Japanese, now witnesses preparations for another foreign invasion, this time from the Valerians or their associates. 3.75" and 40mm AA guns are deployed around the waterfront and to protect Comoro Airfield, home to four PRAF squadrons. Two monitors, hidden under heavy camoflauge netting, protect the approaches to the city along with a battery of 15" naval guns, while slit trenches are dug and barbed wire strung to thwart any landing attempts.

Timor's defense is indeed strong, counting over 30,000 men-at-arms with 59 field guns and 20 Ursus cruiser tanks. The bulk of these men come from the Timor Regiments, locally-organized units made up of Timorese citizens and equipped to the same standards as RPLA regulars. Several battalions of marines and light infantry also contribute to the defense, and include a helicopter transport section equipped with twelve Sycamores. They are, then, supported by the 28 Canberras of Nos. 6 and 14 squadron, 11 Skimmer FB.5 fighter-bombers of No.4 squadron, 12 Hunters of No.11 squadron, and 10 Venom night fighters of No.23 squadron. A mixed bag of DC-3s, Valettas, and Beverleys flies transport missions under the umbrella of No.40 Transport Squadron. Authorities in Dili are therefore quite confident in their ability to protect the island from most realistic threats, including a bombing raid like the one conducted on Sarawak.

GFS Republic
Davao Gulf

Far to the south, near Cape San Augustin, a lone trawler slowly motored up and down the water, relaying a minefield that had just been swept at the end of the Effitian War. The light cruiser Hector, steaming a zig-zag pattern at a safe distance and pinging the water with its ASDIC, kept watch over the smaller ship.

The island of Mindanao was seen in the Iansislean military as a stronghold and place of retreat should their rule in the north crumble. It had been an outpost of the empire before their even was an empire; the first explorers, merchants and settlers had flown under the flag of Shadoran. Here, the oppressive policies designed to keep order in the unruly north -- who, in the change from Spanish to American to Iansislean, had developed more of a taste for resistance -- were not needed, as the population in general saw the Iansisleans as legitimate rulers.

As the Valerian attack developed, merchantmen who had been in Manila -- which was generally seen as far more vulnerable than Davao -- had weighed anhor and fled for the perceived safety of the south. Now, unable to venture out to Iansisle and unwilling to return to Gallaga with their precious cargoes, thousands of tons of Iansisle’s vast merchant marine sat idle in Davao. The minefields in the straits, the forts protecting the gulf, the heavy antiaircraft guns, and the mobile batteries lining the shores of Samal and the mainland was part of the reason that they felt so secure; the Republic was the rest.

Originally named Prince of Shadoran, the massive battleship watched over the flock of merchantmen which crowded into the harbor with a silent air of majesty. One of the three remaining Crown-class battleships -- Gurney had been sunk during the Corporate Yoke -- Republic was actually the smallest battleship fielded by the Navy at ‘only’ 43,000 tons.

She was one of the first products of the Linhower Plan, which argued that to meet Iansisle’s global naval commitments more hulls were preferable to stronger individual ships. However, Republic was no pushover: in three years on Gallaga Station, her crew had practiced with their eight 15”/42 (which were imported from Walmington and copied from the British design) as often as possible in the Bay of Bengal. Also, like most Iansislean battleships, Republic was armored like a fortress, with 15” of vertical Shieldian steel along her belt and up to 21” on her barbettes and turret faces. Packing all that armor and firepower into such a light ship, however, did have its disadvantages: for one thing, the Republic -- although not a right bitch like Haldsborough -- was not nearly as stable a gun platform as the earlier Behemoth class. For another, she had been designed with only six boilers powering three turbines and three shafts, whereas most Iansislean battleships had eight boilers for four shafts. While the Republic could maintain twenty-eight knots and stay in line with the other ships of the modern fleet, she did have a very noticeable lack of redundancy in her machinery. Especially after a long tour of duty far from the dry docks of the Shield.

“I’ve had to take one, four, five, and six off-line,” said Commander Holbrook, the Republic’s third lieutenant. He was standing with Admiral Rice, the admiral’s staff, the ship’s captain, and the other senior officers on Republic’s flag bridge and pointing at a large schematic. “Keeping two and three at short notice for steam, sir, I can give you ten knots in half an hour.”

There was a long silence before Rice spoke.

“Absolutely unacceptable,” he said. “We wouldn’t even be able to keep up with the merchantmen, much less steam in line with Indomitable and Titan when they arrive. I need at least twenty knots.”

“Then, sir, I’m afraid the only solution is to let me stand down from short notice,” said Holbrook. “With one or two weeks off-line completely, I think my men could patch up the boilers enough to get at least five online at perhaps eighty per cent of pressure. That’d be your twenty knots, sir, and a bit more.”

“There’s no way to keep two and three hot in case I need steam quickly?”

“Afraid not, sir. Keeping two and three hot would mean we couldn’t work on one and four. Also, two and three need maintenance desperately -- I’ve forbidden my staff to take them over sixty per cent of design, and even that’s stretching it. They might go out completely, and then we’d be stuck making repairs cold with a week or two lost.”

Admiral Rice was faced with a nightmarish choice: if he did nothing, the flagship of his scratch South Pacific Fleet would be unable to steam at more than a snail’s pace, and even that might fail within a few weeks. On the other hand, were he to authorize the maintenance and a surprise attack were made, it would take hours -- perhaps even days -- for the engineers to clean up their work on the boilers and then build up enough steam to get the Republic under power.

Silence hung over the room for a solid minute while everyone deferentially waited for Rice to process the information.

“If I could put in my advice, sir,” said Mulholland, the Republic’s captain, at last. “I do not think that we can risk allowing this situation to continue. If we run the boilers to the breaking point, we may not be able to move at all when the rest of the fleet arrives from the Marches.”

“Of course you’re right,” Rice admitted, but he was still unwilling to gut the Republic’s propulsion systems for a juryrig repair job right under the noses of the enemy.

“Perhaps it would be best, sir, if we were to transfer your flag to Athena while the Republic is undergoing repairs,” suggested Ingle, Rice’s flag lieutenant. He knew that the recommendation to transfer to a Mobile Aeroflyer Dock -- as if a fleet admiral’s flag could belong anywhere but the halyards of a line of battle ship! -- would be distasteful to the conservative commander. But surely even he could see that it was the only choice.

“Of course, of course,” muttered Rice, his hand tracing across the rough field of his five o’clock shadow.

“With your permission, sir, I’ll go get the Admiral’s things ready,” said Ingle, significantly.

“Dismissed,” said Rice. Everyone took it as an order, with Ingle fleeing down to Rice’s cabin and Holsbrook practically running over to telephone his engine crew.

So it was that a few hours later, Admiral Rice’s flag came down from Republic and soared to the top of Athena’s mast. At once, seventeen-gun salutes began ringing out in the harbor, from ships and the forts alike. Even a few civilians, with ancient rifles carried onboard, joined in the fun, presumably caught up in the joy of making a great din. None of them, for whom the pageant display of naval tradition was a cheerful reminder of Iansisle’s glorious history, probably realized that the cause of all these flourishes was the helplessness of the great battleship Republic, as absolutely impotent as could be while she could not get under way or maneuver.

With perhaps even more catastrophic results, the roar of reports from the harbor made the air raid sirens echoing in Davao City inaudible for a good five minutes which the merchant skippers could have used to build up steam and perhaps at least present a moving target to the incoming Valinor spacecraft.

NFC Mount Apo
West of Davao

Nestled in the shadow of the great volcanic mountain, Iansisle’s primary aerodrome in Mindanao barely had time to acquaint themselves with their newest interceptor squadron before the sirens sounded. Squadron NFC 11, stationed on Batam, was one of the oldest units in the flying corps, considered to be somewhat of an elite unit by commanders and its peers and, as such, it had been among the first units to receive twelve brand-new Brown-Oldryod Gelderlanders.

The trans-sonic Gelderlander was a huge improvement over the aging Noriker fleet in terms of both performance and aesthetics. It was nearly two hundred knots faster than the older Noriker, more agile, and packing an armament 50% heavier. With six .50mm cannons and eight unguided antiaircraft rockets, it was considered one of the most potent craft in Iansisle’s airfleet. While the rockets were of dubious value against a modern opponent in a high-speed dogfight, they were expected to be useful against the massed bomber formations which had been used and used against Iansisle in the Gallaga campaign of the German-Chiangese war. It was a motto of the Iansislean armed forces to prepare to fight the last war, not the next one.

Maintain your units on the ground if you wish to save the lives of their pilots.

“Sounds to me like they’re scared of us,” shouted one pilot officer to his ground crew as they strapped him in.

“Give them hell, sir!” shouted one of the mechanics, flashing a sloppy salute. “You’re armed and hot!”

“They won’t see me bleed,” laughed the pilot as he pulled his canopy down. The Flying Corps’ aeroknights had always lacked far more common sense than they did courage.

One by one, the Gelderlanders rocketed down the runway towards their doom. Twelve faint pops could be heard as they went trans-sonic to catch up with the flight patrol Norikers, which were already angling in on the Valinor contacts with their throttles wide open. Oddsmakers be damned, the Flying Corps did not back down from a fight.

((ooc to MV: apologies for not having anything for you in this post. I couldn’t find anything of yours that needed a direct reply from me. =/ If I’m missing something, slap me through the telegrams and I’ll pop it up. As for what we discussed earlier, I’ll be to that presently -- just want to get caught up for now.))

Jameston Place
Ianapalis, the Shield

Eager to keep the Robots in the war and allied to the Gull Flag Republic, the Assembly pesters the Admiralty to draw up plans in the case of attempted landings in the Robotic Archipelago. Although Admiral Hansfield vigorously protested it, the First Destroyer Flotilla -- including fourteen of the oldest destroyers in the Iansislean Navy and the ancient coal-fed light cruiser Andromache -- which had been preparing to break up for convoy duties was earmarked for Robotic home defence, planning to set sail for the archipelago from its base near Cape Hunt to Robotistan within a day.

More distantly, the support of Iansisle’s Home Fleet -- eight ships of the line and their attending modern destroyers and cruisers -- is promised to Kingston, ‘if the need is more dire in Robotistan than at home.’ The Assembly, which also wanted to promise the five modern heavy cruisers of the First HC Squadron, was fiercely rebuffed by the Admiralty, who argued that they could not be spared from home waters while the Excalbians remained at large.

More vaguely, several directors, including Thomas de Fenne and Richard Appleton, usually mortal enemies, pledged undying fraternal loyalty between the Robots and the Republic along with the pledge that ‘If need be, Shieldian blood shall be spilled in the defence of Robotistan; we shall defend it as dearly as if it were our very own soil.’

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius
The Black Lotus Teahouse

As Sir Pygam made his order, the waitress responded with a smile, "Вы радушны." She then moved on over to Gagarin. "I'll have the Earl Grey and some honey-riverberry biscuits." Gagarin nudged Sir Pygam, "The Earl Grey here is commendable, and if you're wondering what a riverberry is, it's a tart, sweet bluish-green berry native to the River Vedus Valley, which is of course, what Isangrad is built on... the River Vedus I mean. The berries come fresh from the farms up the river." Gagarin mopped his brow with a kerchief. He was, to be honest, nervous. After all, he was trying to put on a good impression to a newcomer to Magnus Valerius, who has came from outside the Kuric and Gedonian Continents.

"Oh yeah," he said with a smile, "You're lucky that girl is Russian! This place is in Little Russia, and we have some Russian migrants living here. Russian is one of our state languages, but that was established long ago when trade with Russia was commonplace; we no longer have much business with Russia. If you spoke Russian to a Valerian, it is a grave insult... by the way, if you're not versed in Valerian, English should work fine here. You see, we learn English with Valerian."

The waitress brought back what the group had ordered, with fresh, hot tea served in a intricate Valerian-style teacup. The engravings on the cup were a 'picture saga' of Isander, the semi-legendary king who founded Isangrad a few millenia ago. On Pygam's cup is the scene of Isander leading his people from the legendary Orchard of Life. This particular saga excerpt ends, on the opposite of the cup, with a depiction of the Battle of the Troglodytes, where Isander and his people valiantly and victoriously fought against some strange-looking mountain folk. The tea was indeed excellent, and the sweets served with the tea were superb as well... at least, in Gagarin's mind.

"And now for business. We need to discuss the situation with an upstart Gull Flag Republic... also, we could discuss the establishment of an Excalbian embassy here in Magnus Valerius as well."

OOC: Consider this a bump. I'll come back to do more that I should have done. :p

Sorry if I'm the weak link in the thread, but I got placed on the closing shifts for my summer job. I've been pretty busy.

(OCC: I am terribly sorry for the long gap between posts there. I will try to get them up more often nowadays, with work winding down.)

IC:

Kingston

Pledges of support from the Gull Flag Republic, while they do go a long way towards convincing skeptical elements in the Admiralty, do not completely silence Mondlan's principal critics, who assert that it was a mistake to contradict the Valinor in the first place. Still, though, the Robotistani contribution is in no immediate danger from Parliamentary opposition, and no few opposition MPs praise the good faith and fraternity shown to the Robotistanis by the Gull Flaggers. Even if the cause isn't necessarily just, they say, the Iansisleans have by all accounts proven themselves allies beyond reproach. A financial and military aid package for Ianapalis is approved in this renewed positive climate, with only the old-guard Royalists mounting any serious opposition, and demonstrations in the Harbor districts loudly display working-class Robotistanis' approval.

There is also talk of recommissioning the 1930s-vintage Great Kingston, one of four carriers operated by the Robotistani Navy during the Anti-Fascist War and the only one to escape scrapping so far. It is by no means a large ship, able to carry only thirty prop-driven Kestrels at a time thanks to an inefficient interior layout, and accomodations leave very much to be desired. But any fleet air wing is better than none at all. Still, it will be some weeks before the Great Kingston is ready for action, and until then the Admiralty will have to make due with its forward airstrip at Buru.

In Orbit

“Interesting,” Kowle murmurs quietly after reviewing the latest comm updates from Earth.

“Sir?” adds Acreson.

“It seems that the Emperor of the Valerians intends to take the field in person in short order. He will be leading a select group of the premiere units of their armed forces to the front, along with an additional naval force.”

Kowle smiles slightly as Acreson balks at this latest tidbit, “A sovereign taking the field a bit unusual for your taste, Kapitanleutnant?”

Acreson looks nervous—and angered with himself for being so obvious, “Pardon my reaction, sir, but it does. I know the Aldermans have taken to the field before, but the current Sovereign hasn’t seen the field since the First Ironholm Wars over 800 years ago. The heirs to the Throne of the Twin Suns may take to the service, but not when they are crowned.”

“Yes, though I expect you can appreciate the…time discrepancies…between the Valerians and ourselves?”

“Yes, Kapitan.”

“Then chalk this up as being one of those little discrepancies. Although, Acreson, I will admit that I do find this a bit unusual even accounting for that. The Valerian Emperor is taking a considerable risk, in my own opinion, and I am willing to gamble that his own security forces are all politely having a variety of rather unseemly fits. But I do not find myself in the position to dictate to the Sovereign of Magnus Valeria what he can and cannot do—especially considering the extensive showing of support they have given to our mutual cause in Iansisle. But not being able to say something and not being able to do something are two entirely different things, Mr. Acreson. Give word to Mount of his coming imperial visitation and also inform him that I want him to take what discreet steps he can to provide for the Emperor’s security and well-being.”

“Yes, sir.”


Earth

The Valerian Beachhead, North of Cagayan

Mount bows his head deeply, in appreciation for Tan’s comments. The Hauptmann manages to hide the smug expression of gloating from his face in regards toward Tan’s—and the other Valerians—look of awe. Some of his soldiers are not so polite, but many find their looks cut short by the harsh glare of their non-commissioned officers.

“Rest assured, General,” Mount says offering his hand, “it is an honor to serve beside such warriors as you. I had some time to review the details of the Imperial Valerian service that has been garnered by our spooks, and it is not something to be easily belittled. And it is even more of a privilege to join with you in order to restore the proper government of the Shield back to its rightful place.”

“But I am afraid that I do not come with only good news, sir. There are some new reports, courtesy of Kapitan Kowle’s orbital network, that have some bearing on your actions here. And I would also like to install a suitable station so that you and your staff may benefit from a direct link to the Kriegsmarine’s orbital infrastructure. I also wish to integrate my men as much as possible with your existing camp structure. If there is some place we could adjourn perhaps?”

West of Davao

Even as the Iansislean fighters scramble to intercept Kowle’s drones, the automated message relayed by the Undaunted’s RI continues to loop over all channels. But the message—intended to show mercy—does not exclude the course of action in face of the fact that the defenders of Davao choose not to heed the words of Vik.

From the sanctum of his hardened, shielded, and well-armored core above the Undaunted Vik analyzes the profiles—and projected capabilities—of the enemy units now racing toward his own flights of Precentors. The RI may not be a considerably amusing or overly human entity—having just receive a memory reconstruction after the cruiser’s last refit less than four months ago—but even he can appreciate the laughable discrepancies between his drones and the Iansislean fighters.

But Vik is a military RI, and as such his response will be what is dictated by his inherently basic nature. “Chin” mounted lasers are brought to power on all three of the Precentors and targets are selected. The enemy fighters race onward toward the drones, a suicidal action considering the fact that they are already well within the range of the Precentors energy weapon not to mention its gravimetrically driven missiles. Still Vik appreciates his tactical situation and realizes the Iansisleans may reconsider their position when faced with an overwhelming enemy. And if risk to his valuable drones can be minimized, the RI will take steps to do it. The three leading fighters of the Iansislean formation are selected—with a second trio immediately assigned as secondary targets—then Vik commences his engagement.

In a blinding instant the three Precentors open fire with their fire-linked lasers and a blinding bolt of energy races across the distance like a bolt of blue-white lightening. The lasers of the Precentors were intended to intercept missiles in the Kriegsmarine’s engagements, maim enemy small craft, and tear into the vulnerable plating of capital ships at close ranges. What they will do to the fighters of the Iansisleans is an issue Vik can only make calculations about based on what information he has garnered. Of the sixteen theoretical calculations already performed by the time the RI gives the execution command to fire none of them end with the continued survival of the enemy fighters. The next twenty-nine yield no optimistic outcome for the enemy, and by that time Vik is already selecting his next round of targets—waiting to see how many more “demonstrations” he must make before forcing a withdrawal or if the only recourse will be total annihilation of his opponent.

OOC: My own apologies for my tardiness. The university is back in session and getting ready for classes is eating through much of my time.

Jameston Place, Ianapalis

John Everett read the note from the Iansislean Admiralty with an expression of practiced equanimity. If he had been any less disciplined, his true emotions – feelings of anger mixed with embarrassment – would have shown through. He had known, of course, that the Imperial Navy was off the Shield, but he had known nothing of the Fleet heading towards the Weshield Strait. That had to be one of the most provocative acts the Navy could have taken. And to have it revealed just as he had reached an agreement with de Fenne on a peace conference.

However, Everett was a practiced diplomat, so he read the note as nonchalantly as if it were yesterday’s baseball scores from back home. He tucked the note into his pocket and smiled. “It seems, Mr. de Fenne, that our agreement has come at a propitious time. I fear your Admiralty has mistaken some of our Navy’s movements as an overly aggressive gesture. I can assure you and your government, however, that it is not our intention to initiate hostilities.”

Everett rose, hoping to depart before de Fenne changed his mind. He was also anxious to get a message to the Fleet for it stumbled into a war. He offered de Fenne his hand. “Sir, thank you. I shall relay your willingness to attend a peace conference, with all parties, including High Queen Jessica II, and without any preconditions to my government immediately. I am sure they will move quickly to invite all the interested parties of which we are aware; if there are any parties that your government wishes to include, please let us know.”

Sometime Later, Aboard INV Holy Empire, Southwest of Cape Jackson

CAPT Harry Olofsson frowned as he passed the message from the Legation in Ianapalis to VADM Sorensen. “I am sorry, my Lord, I don’t know how…”

VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen shook his head sternly as he read. “This is no time for apologies, Captain.” The admiral passed the note on to his tactical officer.

“The element of surprise is certainly lost, my Lord,” LCDR Richard Grasis said somberly. “It might be best to hold…”

“No,” Sorensen said sharply. “We keep moving towards Cape Jackson.”

CAPT Olofsson felt his mouth drop. He closed it quickly. “My Lord… our orders…”

“I don’t intend to start a war, Captain,” Sorensen said, softening. “However, I do mean to get the bloody republicans’ attention.” He turned towards Grasis. “We have reinforcements coming, yes?”

“Aye, my Lord. New Boston is expected with her squadron…”

“Good,” the admiral nodded. “Reassemble the squadron and continue towards Cape Jackson, Captain. We will stop just to the west, in international orders, and establish a blockade line.”

“My Lord,” Olofsson said, “no blockade has been ordered…”

“But the revolutionaries don’t know that, Captain. And just the fear of it – and of the battle it would take to break us off – a battle they would have to start! – should be enough to deter any trade through strait. At least for a while.”

Isangrad, Magus Valerius

“Hmm,” Sir Wayne Pygram said with a pleasant smile, “if I have a second opportunity to visit the Black Lotus, I shall have to try the Earl Grey. And the riverberries.” He nodded to Gagarin.

“Thank you for the advice on languages, your Excellency; I thought I detected a bit of a Russian accent in our waitress.”

Sir Wayne nodded as the waitress served the tea and his crepes. He took a sip; it was excellent, with a clear – but not overpowering – orange flavour. He nodded and listened as the Valerian minister spoke.

“Yes, of course, your Excellency. As for establishing an Embassy, His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, would be most favourably predisposed to establishing a mission here in Isangrad. And would be equally pleased to receive His Majesty’s ambassador in Citadel Excalbia.” The veteran diplomat nodded. The easy part was done.

“As for the Gull-flaggers,” Sir Wayne allowed his voice to drop and take on a grave tone, “His Imperial Majesty remains most distraught at the so-called republic’s regicide. However, he believes that it would be best to call them to account at the negotiating table.” Sir Wayne took a sip of tea to let his words sink in. “While the fury of His Majesty, Alexander III, is understandable and while military action on the periphery of Iansisle’s colonial holdings will certainly help our cause by pressuring the republican government and stirring up anxiety among the people, His Imperial Majesty is concerned that a direct military assault upon the Iansislean homeland would have the perverse effect of raising support for the revolutionaries at home – under a cloud of misguided patriotism – and abroad – by allowing them to play the victim.

“Therefore, even as our Fleet is threatening the revolutionaries off their own shores, my colleagues in Ianapalis are working to persuade the Gull-flaggers to come to the negotiating table. With all parties. Including Her Majesty, High Queen Jessica, the rightful regent, Magnus Valerius, Valinon, Pantocratoria and ourselves, among others. Seeing the dignity and perseverance of the High Queen beside the shrill rabble of the Gull-flaggers will, we hope, serve to diminish the revolutionaries in the eyes of the world and those of the Iansisleans themselves, while serving to bolster support for the High Queen and the rightful king.”

Sir Wayne sipped his tea. “So, your Excellency, if we are successful in gaining Iansislean agreement on a peace conference, would Magnus Valerius join the talks?”

Isangrad, Magnus Valerius

Minister Gagarin sipped at his hot tea as he sat leaned back in his seat and nodded at Sir Wayne Pygam's notion about the teahouse. "Now you see why I drive a few miles from my office at the Imperial Palace over to Little Russia to get my tea fix. It certainly is the best tea. This house is good at finding the right sources and right blends, as if they had a tea mastermind working here..."

Feodor leaned in and said, "Why, His Imperial Majesty Joshua II honors us Valerians greatly with the establishment of embassies! I know just the diplomat to establish ours in Excalbia, so I would be glad to have embassies established between our two nations whenever you and your liege may desire. Maybe we could also arrange, in the future, a great Royal Feast for His Imperial Majesty Joshua II and His Most Imperial and August Majesty Alexander III. From what my ministers briefed me beforehand, I understand that he has chosen his daughter to succeed him... well, all I can say that if the future Queen Regnant needs a fitting consort, look no further than Magnus Valerius. I believe The House Borivich, our ruling family, has eligible members, and the old ruling family of House Kalderis has some eligible bachelors as well." Gagarin leaned in really close to Sir Wayne Pygam. "In my honest opinion though, if you want intelligence and capable consorts, the House Kalderis is best... I must say, Alexander III is a little... hectic. Very much like his grandfather Alexander I. Ironically, Crown Prince Ivan is nothing like his father Alexander III. He's such a capable young prince, an excellent future emperor! But he already has his heart set on another girl... an East Asian commoner, I believe."

Gagarin rested back into his seat, realizing that he got carried off once again. "But I digress, let us continue." Gagarin is always overenthusiastic when it comes to arranging royal marriages.

As Gagarin took in what Sir Wayne had to say, he nodded and agreed. Sir Wayne indeed had posed an interesting point in that the war in the colonies will win the war, and an attack on the homeland of Iansisle would bring the Gull-flaggers unnecessary support.

"You make a nice point, indeed. I do think, though, that our War Minister Phillip Balmarik has already thought of that ahead... Our main battle fleet that was sent to attack The Gull Flag Republic's Homeland has been held off for almost two weeks. I believe that Balmarik has different plans for our fleet and troops up there; they've been holding out in the Khanate of Kalmykstan north of here. His Most Magnificent Majesty Khan Mongke IV has made himself clear and has preached his neutrality in this conflict, but he will allow us to dock our ships in his ports."

"I also am glad that you plan on bringing all parties to the table in such a major negotiation as well. The Queen Regent and House Callahan needs to be represented in these talks, since they have been through much grief and have been disenfranchised of a great deal. The Grand Empire of Magnus Valeria will certainly be involved with the talks. However, I must add that His Imperial Majesty Alexander III cannot attend... he has left for the battlefield."

Gagarin shook his head.

"He has left Crown Prince Ivan, a mere 18 years old, in charge of The Imperial Palace in his absence. Alexander III has taken command of some odd 2,000 Palatine Guards and left for the Philippines with another large force; he has taken a large risk upon himself. Therefore, Prince Ivan and I shall represent Magnus Valerius once the negotiations come under way. You have my word that Magnus Valerius will join Excalbia, Pantocratia, Valinon, House Callahan and even those blood-thirsty, revolutionary barbarians from the Shield once the negotiations begin."

The Khanate of Kalmykstan
North of Magnus Valerius

The Iansislean Expeditionary Force has been resting in Port Ornlu in the Khanate for almost two weeks now. The troops are getting restless, bored of drinking, poker, and visiting local 'cabarets'. However, today was different. The whistles blew, and the warships began pulling out of the harbor. The troops perked up, but wondered what was going on. Their ships also pulled out of harbor, but as the ships got underway in the seas, the battle fleet split up.

What had happened was that Phillip Balmarik had issued for the dreadnoughts and other capital ships to head to Iansisle. With the idea of a land invasion currently grounded with action already occurring in The Colonies (a war on two fronts is never a good thing), Balmarik has decided to have the fleet instead form a blockade on Iansisle and raid shipping to help starve the country into submission. A major famine was brewing, but what Balmarik had planned is to send fighters aboard the aircarrier HMS Caesar Augustus to drop pamphlets and propaganda on Iansislean towns and soon have them drop grain and other foodstuffs on them to help alleviate the famine and win them over to the Valerians. Then, perhaps another army can be sent to land in areas, along with shipments of grain.

As for the 62,000 troops originally planned to invade Iansisle, they have been sent to join the forces currently en route to the Philippines. They will rendezvous, before they will split to occupy other Iansislean colonies. Palau and Sarawak are on the list as ripe pickings (Bantam will have to wait until The Philippines are fully under Valerian control), and a Robostani fleet will find it hard luck to face off against a few gigantic, high-powered Velikiy Dreadnoughts (A.K.A. the Ivan I class) that have came fresh off the dry-docks. Heavily armed and armored, the new class of dreadnoughts will likely be tough customers and hardy ships that could withstand damage that would easily take other ships out of commission.

However, the thing is, that the Valerians will not attack the Robostanis. They see no quarrel with the Robostanis, and an attack on the Valerians dealing with some "bloody regicidal maniacs" will cause outrage in Magnus Valerius, rallying even more war resources. As it is currently known, Magnus Valerius has not been mobilizing its resources to the full extent that it could go, and if the Robostanis provoke an incident, it will likely put the nation into full steam into this conflict.

The Central Pacific
Tsar Alexander III's Cabin

Alexander III sat in his comfortable cabin as he sat down for dinner. "Ah, what is it tonight? Oh yeah! It's one of my favorites! Roasted Dog with Minced Baby Leeks in an Almond Sauce." Valerians, after much exposure to the outside world, rarely eat dog anymore, although it is often considered and eaten as an occasional delicacy. Much like Ancient Romans, Valerians (especially nobles) will cook nearly anything. Even giraffes, guinea pigs, snakes, squid guts, small whales or a tasty llama/camel could have become a feast. However, now nobles only have dog to eat whenever they want to "gross out" a foreigner and entice them to taste what a succulent pooch they once had as a guard dog. Despite the change in times, many Valerians in different regions still enjoy llamas, camels, horses, guinea pigs, and squid guts.

As Alexander III ate his meal, his wife, Empress Consort Yekaterina, joined him with her more 'normal' meal of a broiled chicken breast and steamed broccoli. "This is just great! You brought me along with you so I could get seasick," Yekaterina scolded. "I've been worshipping the porcelain god all day. I'm lucky that I have an appetite."

"Hey, you'll get over it in time," the Tsar chuckled as he chewed messily.

"Oh, you're just like a little child, eating like that! If Feodor Gagarin saw you eat like that in front of a foreign dignitary, he would have a stroke!"

"So what? I don't care if Gagarin throws a fit. Besides, a stroke will give him some time to spend with his grandchildren."

Yekaterina looked away and sighed. "Your father died of a stroke, you know. You should be more... empathetic."

"BAH!" Alexander said with a spoiled gesture. He swigged his bottle of spirits before slamming it down on the table. "He died of an aneurysm... a stroke disabled him."

Yekaterina sighed again. She grew quiet and then ate here meal without a further word.

Alexander III's Palatine Guard is the most loyal army regiment in the empire. They have no loyalty but His Imperial Majesty, and they will do anything for victory. They have extremely fanatical morale with a "Do or Die" attitude. Victory must be achieved at all costs. Their mantra comes from the "Pekhotnik Code", similar to Bushido of Japan. This code comes from ages ago, when the Valerians were once just a nomadic tribe of migrants. The family (women and children) of one's self and the tribe leader were of utmost importance; you would die for them. Nevertheless, these Palatine Guards are trained in the old doctrine, and they would do most anything for victory and the defense of the emperor. They would do suicide missions if it meant that victory will be assured. Other than that, they are crack troops, able to shoot well and endure tough situations.

Despite their tough and zealous line of work, these soldiers live fairly normal lives at home.

Northern Luzon
The Valerian Beachhead, North of the Cagayan

General Tan and his entourage of officers broke their awe as Mount began to speak. The Valerian soldiers backed off, after receiving some unflattering comments and gestures from some of the haughtier Valinor, and began to fall into line as they watched the conversation between Tan and Mount. Some of the troops began to feel inferior as they tried to match up their rifles with the massive armor some of the Valinor troops have. The camp was busy with noises of military vehicles and marching drills.

"It is finally good to have you on solid ground here. We have already unloaded some of our artillery and we were just planning on going on a raid against the Iansislean position on the Cagayan with what we got. I'm sure that the raid will strike some fear before we can get our big guns out to pulverize their defensive position. We have a defensive perimeter of machine guns placed around here to make sure they don't try to catch us by surprise as well. It seems certain that we shall breathe the air of victory soon, Your Excellency, er, Hauptmann Mount."

Tan's enthusiasm did not last. "What's this 'bad' news?", Tan thought. "Well, please, in the privacy of my war room, tell me the reports you bring. Maybe it will change our plan of action and we might not head off to our raid so soon." Tan turned around and firmly crossed his arms as he observed an empty field between his office and the Valerian tents and makeshift barracks already being established on the beach. "As for your troops, they could make themselves free to amend themselves to the going-ons of our camp. They can break adjourn themselves and settle down right there, between my headquarters and Camp 12... we have established 13 sectors so far in our camp, and they left some room inbetween Twelve and Headquarters just for your detachment. I hope your troops can find themselves comfortable amongst us."

Tan turned towards the Valinor and raised his head and voice towards them. He addressed all of them equally. "Of course, I'm sure many of my men will be interested in your unfathomable weaponry and whereabouts, so if they get too inquisitive, let me know, Soldiers of The Valinor, and I shall have them moved. Your comfort here is important as we ready for battle."

General Tan then once again addressed Hauptmann Mount. "Now, Hauptmann, let us go to Headquarters and my office and discuss the news you have to bring. As for headquarters, you may set up your own independent headquarters adjacent to the Valerian HQ if you wish."

Tan led Mount through the Valerians, a horde of different faces and people. The dirt path was a little muddy from an overnight rain, but Tan did not care about getting dirty and marched right through a small pool of sludge. The Valerian headquarters was a humble building raised off the ground, surrounded by palm trees. The mess halls were behind the HQ, and a large supply, small arms, and vehicle dump was to its right. The headquarters was made of wooden panels quickly hammered together with some windows and a straw roof. A fan was on at full blast in one of the five windows along the front of the complex. The door was a large, coarse wooden one that creaked open. Inside, the Headquarters looked barely different. The exception was the soft carpeting in the halls that was a welcome, warmer sight from the mud and wooden planks. The receptionist at the desk was a woman in uniform, who gave a casual smile at Mount. She was attractive, with her auburn hair tied back into a long ponytail under a blue beret. Stitched onto her uniform was the name C. Argyros.

"Oh, you brought a guest, Immanuel!" She said as her aqua eyes gazed upon Mount. "Wow, he's surely not something you see everyday! I never knew technology like that ever existed!" The receptionist fell into a gaze, like the other Valerians when they first saw the Valinor and their technological tools and weapons.

"Hey, Claire, no need to ogle at our guest," Tan said with a confident smirk.

Claire fell out of her trance. "Oh, yes. Right, commander!" She saluted Tan before tossing him the key to the office. "But remember, I keep your key. You can't hold onto it. You lost two of your office keys already, so I took it upon myself to be your keeper!" Claire said with a smile.

"Well, Private First Class Argyros, thanks for pointing out one of my flaws to Mount here!" Tan said.

"You are most welcome, Imperial General Tan."

Tan walked down the hallway and opened up a door to one of the rooms in the headquarters. The Valerian Headquarters was a complex. The halls lead to several annexes of numerous buildings linked together by exposed, exterior walkways (although some more secure hallways were under the roof), but luckily, Mount did not have to walk through the large building; Tan's office was the first room planned here. Tan called Mount over to the second door on the right down the right-side hallway. The hallway trailed to a security door, an amazing amount of sophistication in this wooden complex.

"Come Mount, into my office!"

Tan entered his office and saw it how it was as it always had been in the past few days: dossiers scattered on the desk, his bookcase on the upper right corner of the room with stickied letters from his family back home, an antique gas lamp which was soon to be replaced by an electric one, and various random 'to-do' notes pasted on the walls. There were some pictures in the office as well. One was of Tsar Meijis I (his favorite emperor). Gustav II Adolf (his favorite foreign king), some image from China (his ancestral homeland) and Hannibal Barca (his role model as a general) also adorn his office. A brown mahogany desk, sturdy yet offering some elegance from home, sat squarely in the middle, with a comfortable chair behind it. Some other cushy seats were able to be had, although most of them had boxes of papers and documents on them. The only seat available was a dining chair given to Tan by Tsar Alexander II a few years before his death. Tan received it as a present from the Tsar upon graduating at the top of his class in the Sankt Valerian Imperial Military Academy. It had a blue seat, and its back was a sandalwood carving of both the Imperial Double-Headed Eagle and the Coat of Arms of House Borivich. A window let sunlight pour in from behind Tan's desk. A door on the left wall led to Tan's personal quarters.

Tan walked over to the window and closed the blinds before Mount came in. He lit the lamp and put on his reading glasses as he cleaned up his desk and pulled out some necessary papers, maps, and files for the war effort in The Iansislean Philippines.

OOC:

I think I got everyone settled... Just TG me if I missed anything. :p

As I am implying, Minister Feodor Gagarin and Alexander III do not get along well. :D

OOC:

BUMP!

I should flesh out the division in government between Alexander III and his own son (in lieu with Gagarin)... but for now, a bump to the top is needed. :D

Isangrad, Magus Valerius

Sir Wayne sipped his tea as the Minister spoke of royal feasts and imperial weddings. “Actually, your Excellency,” the diplomat added softly and politely, “His Imperial Majesty is a lifelong bachelor; his sister, Her Imperial Highness Princess Mary, is the heir apparent.”

The Excalbian returned to his tea as Gagarin continued. “War Minister Balmarik has been most judicious to withhold his attack on the Ianislean homeland,” he agreed. “I am glad he has found safe harbour in the ports of Kalmykstan. I would urge him to hold fast lest an attack strengthen the revolutionaries’ support.”

Folding his hands on the table, Sir Wayne smiled slightly as Gagarin accepted the invitation to a peace conference. “I am pleased that the Grand Empire will join the talks. We shall be inviting all the parties to join the negotiations. Our neighbours, the Confederation of Sovereign States, is steadfast in its neutrality, but has offered its capital, Jefferson, as a venue for our talks. We hope that will acceptable to all parties.”

To the Heads of Government and Foreign Ministers of
The Gull Flag Republic of Iansislean People
The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius
The Holy and Most August Empire of Pantocratoria
The United Star Empire of Valinon
The Commonwealth of Robotstan
Principality of Larkina
And to Her Royal Majesty, High Queen Jessica

Your Majesty and Your Excellencies,

In the interest of preventing conflict in the Pacific and establishing a just and equitable peace amongst all parties, His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, urges each of the parties having an interest in the recent developments that have transpired in Iansisle to assemble for a diplomatic conference. The conference, to be held on xx day of xxx in the year of our Lord 1957 at Jefferson, the capital of the neutral Confederation of Sovereign States, will be open to all parties without precondition. It is His Imperial Majesty’s fervent pray that all the parties shall be able to redress their grievances through negotiation and reach a settlement that shall deal justly with each side.

His Imperial Majesty’s Government requests that those interested in attending the conference please confirm their intention in advance.

With Highest Regards,
Baron Ainars Skrastins,
Imperial Chancellor of Excalbia

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

The Imperial Palace
Isangrad

With Tsar Alexander taking risks and leading a private army onto the field, his designated heir and first son, Prince Ivan, was left in charge of the Imperial Estate. While this may not seem much more than housesitting, Ivan had full control of Magnus Valerius's non-military functions. He had complete control over diplomacy and the economy, along with civilian ships and infrastructure. Ivan has had a publicized dislike for his repressive father, who tries to force his son into rethinking his romantic affairs with "unsuitable women" at school and to pin him down into marrying a noblewoman. Alexander III really got argumentative with Ivan after Ivan's youngest brother, Grigori, died of tuberculosis a little under five years ago. When Ivan was 14, he took refuge in the office of a then 52-year-old Feodor Gagarin, who befriended the young prince and became Ivan's mentor and personal advisor in politics. Four years later, their friendship still lasts.

With half of the power of Magnus Valerius currently in his hands, Ivan was definitely going to undermine his father's efforts in the war (albeit not know the full extent of his own actions until much later). Ivan and Feodor Gagarin, while taken aback by the execution of James I of Iansisle, held sympathies for the Republic. After all, Alexander III's actions were unprecedented, and were merely sabre-rattling and glory-mongering on the emperor's part. Ivan disliked his father's attitude during this affair so far, and Gagarin has little positive to say about the conflict (he, of course, just sealed a diplomatic deal with Excalbia to form a peace conference).

While it was contrary to his father's designs, Ivan believes that having a secret communique with Iansisle could let the Crown Prince understand what is going on in this conflict and how to perhaps reduce the suffering of Iansisleans during this conflict. He even has convinced his younger brother, the fourteen-year-old Prince Peter, to try and reach out to the Iansisleans. Ivan was a man of integrity and thought before making his actions. After his morning meal, he had a secret letter sent to the Gull Flag Republic on an unarmed plane, which was painted in a civilian color to hide its identity as a Valerian airengine. Hopefully, it will be received as planned and the beans won't be spilled on Ivan's secret dealings with the Iansisleans. To make sure of that, the messenger was bribed enough Crowns to live the rest of his life as a minor noble.


http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/CoA.png

The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

Fair Premeir of the Gull Flag Republic,

I am Prince Ivan of Magnus Valerius, heir to the Valerian Empire, and I do not wish to be your enemy. My father, a staunch warmonger and nothing more than a delusional man, has of course let the dogs of war loose and now plans to ravage your nation into submission and try to earn himself glory in this war. At his wishes, he has had me in charge of non-military affairs while he is off playing out this war like a huge game. I am shocked of his actions, and I am not alone in my rhetoric; many advisors and citizens are questioning the emperor.

That is why, I would like to have a secret line of communication between us. It is important for me to know about your country so I could secretly aide your civilians in this struggle. I wish to send my brother, Prince Peter, to head to Iansisle and be my eyes and ears in the effects of our war in Iansisle. I would like for him to tour your nation, which not many Valerians have done since the outbreak of revolution in your nation.

However, I must add, there is a deal that I wish to propose to you, that I did not inform my brother about: An Exchange of Hostages. Here's the deal: You send Magnus Valerius Lawrence Madders (who, to my limited knowledge and in all respects, is as bad as a politician and as dangerous as my father) for us to keep here, and you may hold Prince Peter hostage and as an instrument to give you leverage in peace talks. Of course, we will likely hold Madders on trial and swiftly sentence him with a fitting punishment. But, if you reject this deal, then I would still like Peter to be welcomed in your nation.

I hope that this conflict will not result in the needless deaths of many people, but I'm sure we can all come to agreement on something in the future.

With Sincerity,
Prince Ivan Alexandrovich of House of Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios
By the Grace of God Crown Prince of Magnus Valerius, Archduke of the Crown Empire, Prince of West Veiden, Count of Tsarskoye Selo, Scabbard of Saint Valerian, The Seed and Future of The Grand Empire.

To ground controllers, it happened neatly in an instant. One moment, the radranger indicated twelve aerocraft of NFC 11. The next, there were only nine. Up in the air, however, it was a completely different story. The beams which tore apart the squadron leader’s Gelderlander and those of his wingmen were a complete surprise to the nine craft which trailed the doomed flyers.

The squadron lead fell to Flying Officer Archie Beaumont, an accomplished pilot who was one of Iansisle’s first aces during the war with Effit. He knew that he was confronted by a vastly superior enemy and two distinct choices ran through his mind. Either he could turn tail and run back to base, save his flyers and his pilots, and let the anti-air batteries of Davao and the Republic open fire, or he could lead them hell-bent on a suicide mission into the teeth of -- whatever they were in the sky over Mindanao.

The question did not trouble him long. Memories of Sir Gregory Pennyman being hanged for cowardice after a tactical retreat mixed with the shame he would bring upon his squadron and the Flying Corps for turning back without firing a shot -- disgraceful! dishonorable! unShieldian! On his radranger, the three squadrons of Norikers heading for the fight seemed to waver, waiting for the 11th to commit to fight or flight.

“Break right and hit the deck!” he called to his flight. “Sam, take your boys to the left and get as much altitude as you can. Let’s pop the first bogey between us. Break now!”

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

To the Heads of Government and Foreign Ministers of
The Gull Flag Republic of Iansislean People
The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius
The Holy and Most August Empire of Pantocratoria
The United Star Empire of Valinon
The Commonwealth of Robotstan
Principality of Larkina
And to Her Royal Majesty, High Queen Jessica

Your Majesty and Your Excellencies,

In the interest of preventing conflict in the Pacific and establishing a just and equitable peace amongst all parties, His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, urges each of the parties having an interest in the recent developments that have transpired in Iansisle to assemble for a diplomatic conference. The conference, to be held on xx day of xxx in the year of our Lord 1957 at Jefferson, the capital of the neutral Confederation of Sovereign States, will be open to all parties without precondition. It is His Imperial Majesty’s fervent pray that all the parties shall be able to redress their grievances through negotiation and reach a settlement that shall deal justly with each side.

His Imperial Majesty’s Government requests that those interested in attending the conference please confirm their intention in advance.

With Highest Regards,
Baron Ainars Skrastins,
Imperial Chancellor of Excalbia

In the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

Mister Skrastins, (began the Iansislean reply)

It is the sincerest hope of my government that a peace favorable to all parties involved in this lamentable conflict be reached as quickly as possible. Already, many Shieldian lives have been tragically lost in the fighting and I fear for the stability of the entire Pacific should the war between Iansisle and Magnus Valerius continue.

Therefore, we must thank the Excalbian government for its humanitarian offer to moderate such a treaty. My government and my countrymen have no wish to fight the Valerians, or anyone else for that matter. Let me be the first, therefore, to express my best wishes for the success of this Conference and reaffirm the promise expressed by my Director for Foreign Affairs to commit ourselves fully to the process of negotiation.

In faith,

B. Rinehart
Premier Interim of the National Assembly

((ooc: yes, I know I'm missing quite a bit =). I thought it best to reply first to the oldest post (Valinon's) and the most important for the overall purpose of this thread (Excalbia's conference). I'm itching to take a crack at the maritime traffic concentrating in the Western Marches, but it's getting awful late tonight.

Also, I'd like to apologize for the extreme tardiness of this post -- as you may have noticed, I've been gone from NationStates all together for a few weeks. Work exploded at the end of summer, and I was 'right on top of it' to the tune of six days and sixty hours a week. Things have calmed down now, though, and I hope to increase my post rate to more than 'once a blue moon' =). Also, I'd just like to say that it's nice to have you back with us, Ex!

Peace, Ian))

“The latest update, sir,” said Lambourne, Admiral Donahue’s flag lieutenant. He erased the dot representing the Excalbian fleet on the map on Sanguine’s flag bridge and redrew it slightly farther to the east. The air in the small room, closed up as it was against the escape of light onto the darkened ship’s decks, was becoming quite foul and the incandescent bulbs.

Admiral Redford’s Fifth Cruiser Squadron had been the first major Iansislean force to make direct contact with the Excalbians since Foray lost them. The Admiralty, determined to keep Lenore Room a secret, had not even let its top commanders know how the Excalbians had been found; Donahue, Redford, and Jones all still thought that a Coastal Command Spirit on a routine patrol had uncovered the fleet. To keep up the deception, the Flying Corps had been circling aeroflyers around the Excalbians all afternoon and evening while Redford’s cruisers and Jones’ battlecruisers struggled to catch up.

“What time does the sun come up tomorrow, Mr Lambourne?” said Donahue, comparing the position of Holy Empire to that of his fleet.

“Oh five twenty-five, sir,” said Lambourne at once. How Lambourne had that information so close at hand Donahue would never know; he’d never have been able to answer so quickly and would have made a rotten flag lieutenant. “I’d say we’ll make contact an hour or so before dawn, assuming the Excalbians respect the Straits.”

A dull, metallic thud reverberated through the flag bridge as someone came through the hatch. Donahue breathed deeply of the temporary wave of salt air, but all too soon the hatch clanged shut and was made fast. Donahue opened his eyes but, on sight of the newcomer, wished he had kept them closed.

“Lieutenant Radcliff,” said Donahue, trying to disguise his contempt. “How nice of you to join our little midnight meeting.”

Radcliff was a creature with whom Donahue had only a very little experience. Although he greatly outranked the lieutenant, nonetheless he had to proceed with caution. Radcliff lay outside both the Admiral’s staff and the officers of the Sanguine; there was no secret that he reported to and derived his authority directly from Grand Admiral Hansfield in Ianapalis. After Clayburgh’s attempted treason, the Admiralty and their controllers in the Department of War were unwilling to trust even the Commander-in-Chief of the Home Fleet on his own.

“Indeed,” said Radcliff shortly.

“The NIO briefing did not contain any significant knowledge about Excalbian rangefinding and wireless capabilities,” said Lambourne, apparently unperturbed by Radcliff’s entry. “I should like to assume, therefore, that we are facing a fleet roughly equal to ourselves in those areas. The NFC has also agreed to help coordinate a program to jam their radrangers and wireless units, though we cannot be sure of its effectiveness.”

“If the flyboys are going to try to jam their rangers, then there’s a chance that ours will be at somewhat less than peak performance,” said Donahue, doing his level best to ignore Radcliff’s eyes. He considered the plot for a second. “Mr Lambourne, I should not like to engage the enemy before dawn. Inform the fleet to reduce speed to twelve knots and come about a point and a half to starboard.”

The Iansislean fleet, at least since the advent of the self-propelled torpedo, always preferred to fight during the day. Nights were when dastardly foreigners could sneak in close to the Navy’s glorious ships of the line, when torpedoes could be launched and mines sown. Even the advent of radio-directed rangefinders, admirals fretted over the perils of the darkness; frequencies could be jammed, after all, and search lights and starshell was a poor replacement for the light of day.

In some ways, this obsessive paranoia served the fleet well: in the advent of a fleet engagement under heavy wireless jamming, Iansislean gunners were well-trained on their optical sights. Admiralty regulations also stipulated that a fleet should be able to conduct a battle with complete wireless silence; the Iansislean naval codebook, which was largely unchanged since the days of the Unsterbank Shoal, was one of the best in service. Even at night under conditions of blackout and wireless silence, only a few flashes of light were needed from Sanguine’s signal lamp to communicate to the fleet Admiral Donahue’s intention to reduce speed and change course. One by one, the message was passed down the line and the massive engines of war came about in the gloomy Marches darkness.

“Call the bridge, Mr Donahue, and tell Captain Badrick that he can stand down from action stations. I want all men back at quarters in --” Donahue consulted his watch “-- five hours.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Only after all his orders had been issued did Donahue spare a glance for Radcliff, who spoke as soon as they made eye contact.

“Am I to take it to mean, sir, that this course change means that you’ve abandoned the idea of a deployment to the west?”

“Of course,” said Donahue. Damn your impudent eyes, he added silently. There was a long silence. I do not need to explain myself to a lieutenant, I do not --. “Oh, very well,” Donahue snapped. “I intend a deployment to the east half an hour before sunrise and to be in contact with the Excalbians shortly thereafter. A deployment to the west keeps us between them and the sun. The dawn will illuminate them nicely for our gunners while our fleet will be shrouded by the darkness.”

“If the admiral would not think it too improper of me, I should like to play the Devil’s advocate,” said Radcliff.

Donahue would have liked dearly to refuse this entirely arrogant request, but the need for ideological solidarity in the eyes of the Jameston government was now more dire than ever; Donahue had no wish to follow Clayburgh and Pennyman to the gallows. He nodded to Radcliff.

“Thank you, sir. It was my impression, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, that the primary responsibility of this fleet was to prevent the penetration into the Straits of enemy forces.”

“Indeed it is, but I hardly think that any Excalbian admiral would attempt to run the forts while under fire from a hostile fleet,” said Donahue, interrupting Radcliff.

“...furthermore, a deployment to the west would only bring a temporary advantage,” said Radcliff. “If their line can steam at twenty-six knots, as NIO reports indicate it can, then the Excalbians will be able to dictate the time of the battle. They could well decide not to fight in the early morning and wait until the sun has fully risen, at which point it would interfere with your range-finders. It would be Coronel in reverse. Sir,” Radcliff continued, adding the last word as an afterthought.

Behind his back, Donahue clenched and unclenched his fist. Radcliff was right that, as the sun rose, conditions would become rapidly less favorable for the fleet to the west; however, the idea that any admiral would stake his fleet and the lives of his sailors on a desperate lunge past the forts protecting the Weshield Strait seemed ludicrous to him. If surrounded by overwhelming force -- the battlecruisers to his south, Home Fleet to the northwest, and the forts along with Sandmoor’s detached squadron to the east -- it was far more likely that the Excalbian would chose a southern retreat, brushing past the battlecruisers on his way. No, a deployment to the west was the best choice.

“Thank you, lieutenant. I’ll take that under consideration,” said Donahue. Dismissed, he longed to add.

------

((MV: is the Khanate of Kalmykstan an independent, neutral nation? Or is it a cobelligerent of the Valerians, or is it a part of the Grand Empire? If it is a neutral nation, you can bet that the Republic would have been screaming that your fleet’s long stay there constituted a breach of neutrality and that the Khanate must either disarm and intern the ships or face war with Iansisle. Somewhat hypocritical in view of the Republic’s somewhat loose interpretations of international law, true, but they’ll be playing every card they have. Also, what sort of country is the Khanate? Is it the sort of place that the NIO would have an easy time infiltrating? Does Iansisle maintain a diplomatic station there? Is it probably that the Admiralty would know the location of the fleet?))

Miller House, Citadel Excalbia

“Mr. Skrastins, indeed,” Lord Walter Williams looked over his wire-frame glasses at the paper in his hand. “Juvenile provocation. Most republics – even the revolutionary ones, even Soviet Russia – refer to foreign officials by their proper titles.”

Baron Ainars Skrastins shrugged slightly as the Minister of State spoke. “Petty slights from petty men, my Lord.”

The Minister nodded to the Imperial Chancellor. “True, Baron Ainars. However, the substance of their reply is not unwelcome…”

Skrastins rubbed his chin. “Yes, it does seem as they tend to stand behind their verbal agreement to take part in negotiations…” The baron stood and paced behind his desk. “Have we heard from any other participants?”

“Only Magnus Valerius, Baron.”

The Chancellor sighed. “That’s a start. However, we need to be sure the other parties will take part…”

“I shall have the Ministry work on it, your Excellency…”

Aboard INV Holy Empire, West of Cape Jackson…

VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen starred uneasily at the map table filling the flag bridge. Holy Empire’s squadron was spread across the chart like a cork just expelled from the neck of the Weshield Straits. Somewhere to the northwest the Iansislean fleet was bearing down on him. They had been detected, first by Skyhawk radar pickets, then by submarine. His tactical officer, LCDR Grasis, had been unable to calculate the exact size of the approaching force.

Nor did they know whether it would approach from west, pinning them between the fortresses guarding the strait and the fleet, or whether they would slide to the east and attempt to screen the Excalbians from strait. With another force, which seemed no more than a battle cruiser squadron, being tracked to the south, Sorensen hoped the Iansislean admiral would deploy to the east. That would give Holy Empire a clear path of retreat to west and would similarly give New Boston’s squadron a clear path of approach. Having the Gull-flaggers to his east would also further block the straits, helping accomplish his mission for him.

Sorensen shook his head. Until or unless his Skyhawks or submarines developed more information on the Gull-flaggers’ deployment, he was doing little more than guessing.

The admiral sank into a chair and picked up a glass of brandy. He took a sip, then set back on the narrow table running along the bulkhead. The room was empty; Sorensen had already sent his staff to their quarters for a few hours of sleep.

He closed his eyes and felt the rumble of the engines and the movement of the ship through the waves. Sorensen picked up a packet from the table and pulled out a telegram. His orders from the Citadel spelled out his rules of engagement. He was to avoid conflict. But he was permitted to return fire if he received fire.

Sorensen stood and walked back to the map table. His force was clearly in international waters. Any attack by the Gull-flaggers would clearly be unprovoked and indefensible. Still, that would be cold comfort to the men who would die and confrontation between the two fleets. He just hoped the Iansislean admiral was a rational man and not looking to start a war.

Government House, Kingston

It does not take long for Prime Minister Jorge Mondlan to make up his mind on the subject of the peace conference. To the slight displeasure of Foreign Minister Francis Mpana, Mondlan answers the communique himself, agreeing to show-up in Excaliba for the conference and commending its purpose. A Valetta transport is made ready for the trip and the Prime Minister's schedule is cleared. At the same time, Parliament is cajoled into approving limited defense expansion, mainly aimed at improving Kingston Fort's ancient battlements and 1910-vintage guns.

Earth

The Valerian Beachhead, North of Cagayan

Mount makes a quick hand motion toward several of his remaining officers before departing with General Tan. As they walk off toward the Valerian headquarters, Mount’s detachment starts to establish its own extension to the existing encampment. Several of the unfortunates whose sneers were seen find themselves with less than welcomed duties to attend to—Her Imperial Majesty’s Reichswehr has its appreciation for respect of its allies, even if its enlisted ranks must be occasionally reminded of this.

While on the way toward Tan’s office, Mount smiles quietly at the words of Private Aryros. He takes her to be the usual sort of officer’s liaison—perhaps a bit too appreciative of the luxuries of the office but essentially good-hearted. The Reichswehr long ago ceased to be a sexist organization, even if its ranks have far fewer women in it than those of the Kriegsmarine. Policing his smile, Mount follows Tan into his office.

“With your permission, General,” Mount says kindly, “I believe I will establish my headquarters as close to yours as possible. If nothing else it will allow for easy relay of information between my own staff and your own—not to mention that from the orbital networks Kapitan Kowle is providing for us. I would also like to—with your permission—send my two squads with reconnaissance experience forward to support your own probe toward the Iansislean lines. There are a few officers with marksmanship experience I think you would find…useful.”

Mount takes a moment to bring up the message from Kowle before proceeding. It was always best to be sure that one was fully possessed of the facts before reporting them.

“In regards to the bad news I mentioned earlier, General, our orbital network has located an Iansislean naval contingent making fast for Davao. The force consists of a battleship, a carrier, and a destroyer screen. Kapitan Kowle took liberty to forward this on to your nation’s central headquarters in Valeria, but he felt that you would have use for this information as well.”

Mount suddenly smiles wolfishly, “And, if I may add, General, the Kapitan also took the liberty to dispatch a flight of interceptor drones to pay the Iansislean air base on Davao a visit and one for the approaching fleet. My personal estimate is that you will not have to worry about Republican aircraft bothering your operations here much longer.”

Above Davao

Vik’s drones rapidly feed updates to their “pilot” and the RI studies the information. Aboard the Undaunted, safe from harm, Vik contemplates the annoyance of the Iansisleans continued resistance, if nothing else because it delays him from completing the objectives of moving against the Davao aerospace base proper and harrying the battleship approaching the island.

At least the Iansisleans do seem to have some idea of what they are facing as the enemy’s flight pattern alters radically. One flight charges skyward, clawing for altitude, while the other dives down for the cover of the Davao jungle. It is an opening Vik fully intends to use, as he can see no need in tying down all of his drones in operations against the enemy flight group. New directives are shot to the Precentors and turned into action like a brain signaling for the movement of a hand.

The forward flight of three Precentors divides itself, with two fighters righting themselves and pouring on additional speed to intercept the ascending Iansislean formation. The final fighter, technically designated as the group leader, dives in pursuit of Flying Officer Beaumont’s flight. Simultaneously both elements of the divided drone flight open fire again and three more laser shots are sent to eliminating the Iansislean aerospace presence over the Philippines. The three fighters also start to bring up their missile targeting programs, moving to escalate the engagement to the next level.

The second flight of Precentors regroups in a tight formation, separated by the barest of meters. They build their acceleration with relentless precision and reorient their course, setting on a heading that will have them intercept with the naval contingent being led by the Republic in under six minutes.

In Orbit

Kapitan Kowle watches the feeds being provided by the Daring’s orbital network established over the Shield proper. The live-feed images have the flags of the Gull Flag Republic and the Holy Empire of Excalbia hovering above the maneuvering naval forces off the coast of the Shield proper.

“Should I prepare a report for the Valerians, sir?” Kapitanleutnant Acreson murmurs quietly.

“Not yet, Acreson, I think now we just need to watch this unfold. But be ready to forward a message to Admiral Angelovich and Hauptmann Mount at a moments notice. If this does turn into an engagement the possible implications in this war will be…,” Kowle reflects a moment on the strategic position already faced by the joint Valerian-Valinor operations against the Gull Flag Republic. Add to that the factor of possible involvement by the Holy Empire and this war may turn into those history annotates as “short and victorious.”

Kowle nods his head, “The possible implications will justify a full review of the situation by the Valerians and ourselves.”

“Aye, sir.”


To: Baron Ainars Skrastins, Imperial Chancellor of the Holy Empire of Excalbia in the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II
From: Duke Adrian Sterling, First Minister for Her Imperial Majesty’s Foreign Affairs, Duke of Valprietza
Re: Regarding the Proposed Conference of His Imperial Majesty

Your Excellency,

While Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Friedelinde I, and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government firmly wish to see peace returned to the Pacific and to the Shield, we wish to note that we do not believe such a resolution as possible given the nature of the self-proclaimed usurpers “Gull Flag Republic” of Iansisle. Therefore, we present to your esteemed offices the following stipulations upon our attendance to this conference.

First, and foremost, we want firm assurances from the “officers” of the Republicans that they intend to negotiate in good faith and will agree to a mutual cease-fire during the duration of this conference. Second, Her Imperial Majesty is adamant on the issue that a representative will only be dispatched if this proposal is agreed upon by the Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius. The Valerians have been stalwart friends and allies of both Her Imperial Majesty and Her Royal Majesty Jessica II’s during this time of crisis and we will not desert them under any circumstances. Third, we will not attend this conference if the Republican envoys intend to use it as an opportunity to either assault or demean the titles of Her Royal Majesty Jessica II or that of the House of Callahan. We will not allow these usurpers to use a neutral conference as a venue to legitimize their own actions and high crimes. Fourth, and finally, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government specifically reserve the right to withdraw from this conference and resume a state of hostility if any of these stipulations are not met or if other parties at this conference are deemed to have nothing more than slanderous or hostile intent.

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government formally apologize to both you and His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, for imposing with the aforementioned stipulations upon your generous offer as a neutral intermediary. However, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government wish to remark that this is a battle of principles as well as a battle of swords and to resign our principles at this stage to a regicidal agency such as the Republican Government is more than half a defeat. Whatever the outcome of these present negotiations, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government wish to say that the Holy Empire of Excalbia, its Sovereign, and its People shall always have the utmost respect and thanks of the United Star Empire of Valinon.

With sincerest respects,
Duke Adrian Sterling,
Duke of Valprietza

Miller House, Citadel Excalbia

Lord Walter Williams smiled thinly across the table at the Imperial Chancellor. He had harboured little respect for the round-faced baron before the current crisis, but Skrastins had surprised. The little man had been a bit of hot-head and demagogue during his political career, but had repeatedly shown little willingness to stand firm in the face of confrontation. The Minister of State arched an eyebrow; he guessed was true that sometimes the office made the man.

“So, my Lord, it looks as if most of the parties are prepared to accept our invitation,” Baron Ainars Skrastins said leaning back in his well-padded chair.

“Yes, your Excellency. Except for Valinon…”

“I thought they accepted,” the Chancellor said with a frown.

“They did,” Lord Walter said flatly, “on the condition that the Gull-flaggers not demean Queen Jessica II’s status or titles…”

“Almost as if they knew exactly the Gull-flaggers’ conditions and were determined to torpedo them,” Skrastins sighed.

“We’ll work on them, Excellency…”

His Excellency
Duke Adrian Sterling,
First Minister for Her Imperial Majesty’s Foreign Affairs,
United Star Empire of Valinon

Your Excellency,

Thank you for your recent communiqué. In our negotiations with the republicans in Iansisle, we were repeatedly assured by them that it there intention to negotiate in good faith without precondition. We believe that they will honour this pledge and will abide by a cease-fire during the negotiation.

We are also pleased to confirm to you that all major parties in this dispute, including Magnus Valerius, have agreed to send representatives to the negotiations.

The republicans have also agreed to the participated of Her Majesty, Queen Jessica II, without precondition. This understand recognizes that Her Majesty will assert her titles and claims to the throne of Iansisle and that those who support her claim, including the Holy Empire of Excalbia, will treat her in all respects as a sovereign. However, it also recognizes that, in fact, it is Her Majesty’s standing and claims to the throne that stands at the crux of the negotiations. Therefore, just as it would constitute a precondition and, in fact, would force Her Majesty and Her Majesty’s supporters to accept republicanism in Iansisle as a fait accompli if Her Majesty were compelled to forego Her Majesty’s titles during the negotiations, it would similarly represent a fait accompli to require that the republicans accept Her Majesty’s titles prior to the negotiations. In order to strike the fair diplomatic balance, we have agreed with the republicans that they will not be compelled to recognize Her Majesty as queen and that Her Majesty and Her Majesty’s supporters will not be compelled to refrain from acknowledging Her Majesty’s standing as queen.

It is His Imperial Majesty’s sincere wish that Her Imperial Majesty will agree to the United Star Empire’s participation in these negotiations. His Imperial Majesty and His Imperial Majesty’s Government are hopeful that in the face of a common front among the supporters of Her Majesty, Queen Jessica II, at the negotiating table, the republicans will relent and seek a just and equitable solution to the current crisis.

Allow me to assure you and Her Imperial Majesty, Empress Friedelinde I, of the highest regards of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II, and His Imperial Majesty’s Government.

Sincerely,

Lord Walter Williams,
Minister of State,
Holy Empire of Excalbia

On behalf of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II

OOC:

To Everyone: Sorry for the wait, guys! School started, so I'm party... er, studying at full blast. :D

Ian: The Khanate of Kalmykstan is an independent, neutral nation, but it grants military access to Magnus Valerius in return for military access from Magnus Valerius. That is, both nations are allowed to send troops amongst each other. Khan Mongke IV has had a fall out over the massive fleet in Kalmykstan's ports and had temporarily revoked the access he grants Tsar Alexander III. The Grand Fleet is now no longer able to dock in Kalmykstani ports for awhile, but they are in action again, so it is not much concern for the Valerians.

Kalmykstan is a nation comprised of grasslands, woodland and hills along its northern coast, mountains on its southern border with Magnus Valerius, and a huge steppe inbetween. It was formed from the remains of the Kalmyk Horde that invaded the continent in 1252 under the Great Khan Akutai I. The Kalmyks swallowed up land and eventually defeated Pharaoh Ahmose II of Thutmosia in 1256, forcing him to become a vassal. They headed west to Ashuriya, where King Daniyel V was killed in the First Battle of Damuriveh in 1261. The Horde (known as the Bloody Horde by the citizens that were conquered by the Kalmyks) soon began assimilating its conquered people, and many Mongols took on the native women as concubines (and Kalmyk women took many native men as their lovers as well); this changed the demographics of the region and by 1320, Mongols (especially mixed Mongols; a large number of modern Kalmykstani Mongols are reputed to have 10% Indo-European ancestry) dominated the Khanate's population. The Indo-European ethnic groups that were disenfranchised by the Kalmyks still continued to exist, but not in the strong numbers as their ancestors once did.

The Kalmyk Horde was not to last forever, when the Great Khan Temujin IV marched into the recently formed Crown Empire of Magnus Valerius in the summer of 1377. The newly crowned Emperor George II (reigned 1377 - 1381) was an able military mind, the son of George I The Great who finally unified the land around King William's Sea (The vast Valerian Basin) to form the modern state of Magnus Valerius. Temujin IV foolhardedly marched into the mountains north of Ioannople, a small colonial town in the Ligurst Mountain Range (one of three mountain ranges that seperate Magnus Valerius and Kalmykstan). Temujin's army, however, was unexperienced with the rough terrain, being more used to the steppes of their homeland. They won some early victories against the Valerian garrisons in the outposts along the range, but as soon as George II's army arrived, things went downhill for the Kalmyk Horde. The Valerians, 42,000 strong, defeated the Kalmyks (numbering at ~80,000) at the Battle of Bashnovo. The Kalmyks were then utterly crushed when George II later ambushed them at The Battle of Boltavia Pass; Temujin IV was captured and although he was ordered to be held alive, an overzealous Valerian Boyar had him beheaded and had the head of the Great Khan brought to George II on a golden, bejeweled platter. The Kalmyk Horde soon lost its hegemony over the region as its former vassals, Thutmosia and Ashuriya, recovered land lost to the Kalmyks and gained some new land as well. Mongke I succeeded Temujin IV and quickly made some successful diplomatic overtures to the Valerian Emperor and ended the war. The Kalmyk Horde, after suffering such a tremendous defeat, collapsed and became the modern state of Kalmykstan. George II, who was the victor, did not last to capitalize his fame. He died of the Black Death in 1381, which ravaged the continent from 1379 to 1386 (His son Boris IV succeeded him).

Kalmykstan once owned a large lot of land, but in 1605, when Feodor Godunov (who was purportedly murdered in Russia; in RL he was, but for the case of my own little world, a body double was murdered) arrived with his band of Russian settlers and followers, Khan Daritai I granted Feodor a fief and that is when Godunovia was created as a nation. The Russian principality's population boomed, thanks to the fertile region the city of Godunovsk was founded on, and soon the Khans (and the neighboring Kings of Kuria) lost land to Godunovia through a succession of wars that lasted into the 19th century. The first major expansion of Godunovia at the expense of Kalmykstan was under the reign of Khan Koksegu, who was an imbecile and mismanaged his army as the Godunovian Russians under Feodor I (Feodor II of Russia) captured Kalmyk settlements in the sparsely populated eastern Kalmykstani regions.

Kalmykstan is populated mostly by different Mongolian ethnicities, the dominant being Kalmyks (Oirats). A significant part of the population are still nomadic (around 3-5 million people), but the rest of the 190 million or so live in communities. The majority of the population are Christian (Nestorian and Eastern Orthodox demoninations are chief), although Buddhism comes in closely at second. There is a sizeable Jewish population, and a number of people still hold pagan, animistic beliefs. Its capital, Ulge, lies in the central portion of the nation. The NIO could possibly infiltrate Kalmykstan, if it can get someone who is a Mongol or looks like a Valerian and can speak Mongolian or English with a convincing Valerian accent; ~348,000 Valerians live in Kalmykstan, mostly within the townships and farming/mining communities along the southern regions of the Khanate, but 50,000 live in Ulge. There are also other various small Indo-European ethnicities, "pure" descendants of the citizens of the minor states that the Kalmyk Horde gobbled up in the 13th century.

Here's a map of the Kuric Continent (or in noun form, Kurida), showing all of the nations on the continent. The sister continent of Gedonia lies on the southwest.

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/KuricContinent.png

And, I guess that's enough of a history lesson for my little world, hehehe... :)

------

The Iansislean Philippines
The Valerian Beachhead, North of the Cagayan

Mount had displayed his interest in annexing the Valinor headquarters to the Valerian one, and that is one idea that Tan nodded to in agreement. "Please, Hauptmann, you are definitely welcome to establish your own command near ours, and if you need us to cover the expense, be it manpower to construct the headquarters or the funds and materials, we shall do so. It is also great to have your command, since you provide us with necessary information..." General Tan quickly scanned through some reconnaisance briefings about the Iansislean position. "The Ians are currently entrenched across the Cagayan, waiting for us to make the first move. I was thinking of building another bridge north of their position, but it seems we will have to eliminate their threat before that plan can go through... my commandos have reported that the Iansislean bridge might not hold up to the tonnage of our heaviest artillery, so we will have to build a new bridge to cross the Cagayan."

Tan smiled as Mount offered to send some Valinor troops to the fray. Tan replied warmly, "Your two squads are welcome, Hauptmann," the General said, "after all, my own commandos who scouted the position did not do a thorough job in the fear of an ambush. Their abilities will be most impressive, I believe! We plan to send some Valerians, although, I must say, we are going to try and attack the Iansislean position in a raid... in other words, I am not playing with full strength. The Iansisleans probably don't have many men, so I am sending... 11,000 men to attack them. The only problem is that we are lacking in large artillery to shell them. We have small and a few medium pieces, but the big guns are still getting unloaded off the ships to be reassembled for the front. I'm sure your troops and their impressive mechanical armor can help us? I will be leading the attack. My horse is ready to go, and so are my men."

As Kowle's news was read to Tan, he frowned, and muttered something under his breath as he took a pen and then began rapping it on his desk. "This development is very dire... They must have many thousands of relief troops with them. The main issue is that another Valerian force is on the way, and this means that maybe the Ians will encounter our ships along the way... We have at least 160,000 more men on the way to bolster our own 40,000 active troops here; we have even more... around 60,000, but they are about to leave for other Iansislean positions, especially Sarawak and Palau. Most of the 160,000 additional men are actually on the way to conquer the other Iansislean colonies, but some of that 160,000 will become garrison troops, and all of them will land here for a respite before moving on to other locations in this theatre of the war. I have to send a dispatch to Angelovich so he could warn the coming reinforcement fleets about this development..."

As soon as Mount broke the news of the Iansislean airforce being taken care of, Tan moved up from his down mood and grinned. "That's some great news! We Valerians don't really have much of an airforce out here, and the airpower based in Shorehaven can only reach Palau and Sarawak. That's one worry off our backs. Now, care for a drink?" Tan rose from his seat and grabbed three shot glasses with a dusty bottle of whiskey. "Claire! Come in." Claire came in and smiled as she took another seat next to Mount and questioned, "Is it my favorite drink?"

OOC: There are things brewing in East Valeria... but they'll have to wait for the next post. :)

The staff car of Major General Nicodemo Ranalte drove through the streets of Delton at a snail’s pace. The city was normally a large hub for the trade that plied the River Jaizar but these days it was particularly crowded. The swampy land of the Del, on the Shieldian side of the great river, had become the campground for IX Corps, the vanguard of the Army of the Jaizar as it moved away from Effit.

The men of IX Corps were starting to regard themselves -- and be regarded by Ianapalis -- as an elite unit of the Army. After all, it had been them who defeated James Callahan at Ducksbury and forced the breakthrough at Greater Wimmers, then spearheaded the charge against a reeling Effitian line. IX Corps had taken a bloody nose during that fighting, of course, and it remained the smallest corps in the Army of the Jaizar, but still its men wore their regimental colors with pride.

That pride extended to their commanding officer and there blossomed into love. Off duty officers and men taking in Delton’s sights, shops, and young ladies removed their caps and cheered as the car carrying Ranalte’s distinctively-cut khaki uniform and red beret passed. Some even formed an impromptu honor guard, mock marching behind the car as it drove up Dietman Street to the Admiralty House.

Overlooking the vast harbor hidden in the muddy waters of the mouths of the Jaizar, Admiralty House was one of the oldest government structures in Delton. Built in the 1710s, when the city was being carved out of the swamp, it served as the lodgings for the (formerly Lord) Commissioner of the Port of Delton. More recently, it had been the controlling center for the immense traffic which had shipped in supplies from all over the Shield and up the river to the fighting army. However, as that logistical problem expanded into a nightmare, the Admiralty House had proven woefully insufficient to the task. Two hastily-built concrete buildings at the back of the grounds both contrasted horribly with the noble brick of the main building and exemplified the government’s response to the problem.

The harbor itself seemed as crowded as the tiny wooded hill. All manner of merchant ships, from grand passenger liners stripped of their teak woodwork and golden chandeliers to sooty former colliers hastily redesigned to carry troops, lay silently and awaited IX Corps. They had been pressed into government service from Iansisle’s vast merchant marine and their crews sworn into the Navy, but none seemed to mind overly much. There was some grumbling, of course, but this was war and damned to the man who wasn’t patriotic in a time of national crisis!

At the gates, two marine guards straightened up and gripped their rifles more tightly at the sight of the unruly drunken mob which trailed Ranalte’s car. Up on Admiralty House’s veranda, three men in naval uniforms watched, hands clasped behind their back in silent disdain for these populist antics. There was no cause for concern; none of the men tried to follow Ranalte’s car beyond the gate, but contented themselves with three cheers for the general. They were rewarded by a salute with the beret.

Ranalte was still fitting it back on his head as the car pulled to a stop in front of the House. His broad grin, white teeth behind an olive complexion, contrasted rather sharply with the severe expressions of the naval officers.

“I shouldn’t think that encouraging them in such antics is good for the discipline of your men, General,” said the most senior of them, acting Commodore William Dale-Hutchwood. The pale-faced career officer of fifty-two had never distinguished himself in action and held his post as commander of the naval escort for the vast troop convoy assembling in the Del by virtue of many years grinding out seniority as a lieutenant and captain.

“No, Commodore, I would not imagine that it is,” replied Ranalte, returning the offered salutes. “However, I would say that the boost to the élan of my force will be well worth the price once we hit Luzon.” He flashed another roguish grin. “The men want theater and I give it to them.”

“Indeed,” said Dale-Hutchwood. “Come, General. We have many things to discuss about the embarkation of your men and damned little time to do it.”

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

Dawn was breaking grey and misty over the Western Marches when the lead elements of Home Fleet made direct contact with the Excalbian fleet. The cruiser GFS Europa, charging at thirty knots ahead of the fleet on the extreme eastern flank got her readings from the battlecruiser Haldsborough, which had been shadowing to the southwest, and altered course slightly so that it soon came in contact with the Excalbian pickets.

Behind these scouts, approaching the Exalbians from the northwest, the battlefleet accelerated. Twenty-eight knots was the listed maximum speed for an Iansislean line of battle, though the Behemoth-class could push thirty in an emergency. It would not be long before twenty miles, which signified the maximum effective range of Iansislean naval heavy artillery. All along the line of battle, a red ensign was raised on every available halyard. This was the tradition when battle was expected; the theory was that, no matter how many ensigns were shot away, the enemy would be left in no doubt that an Iansislean vessel had not, would not, and could not surrender.

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

The last of the friendly contacts vanished from Republic’s aerosearch radranger display in what must have been a magnificent explosion. The randranger nodded glumly and reported the complete destruction of Squadron 11.

This fact was acknowledged briefly by Captain Mulholland, but he was far more engrossed in the operations, under the direction of the third lieutenant, taking place on the forecastle. There, parties of men from the Republic assisted the crew of the collier Albert Peach. The Peach had been ordered alongside as soon as the Valinor craft appeared overhead and now the crews were attempting to hoist the Republic’s forward starboard anchor aboard the merchantman.

The concept was similar to that used years before in the days of fighting sail: when no power was available to a ship, the anchors would be towed out in the direction the ship needed to move, dropped with plenty of slack, and then some work on the capstan would bring the ship to the anchor. Considering that the Republic didn’t even have enough power to run her capstan, however, this was sure to be just as backbreaking as it had been two hundred years before.

Mulholland intended to rotate his ship so that it was facing its broadside towards Davao, where the Precentors had just finished annihilating twelve Gelderlanders. His ship carried an impressive battery of 4.9” DP anti-surface and anti-air guns; combined with the fire of Davao’s anti-air batteries, which were even now opening fire, these might have the punch to rescue the vast merchant fleet. However, while the fire of a majority of these guns was masked by the Republic superstructure, he could not start shooting.

The vast majority of shipping in the Davao Gulf was now heading towards Cape San Augustin and the open water at full steam, led by the Athena and Admiral Rice. There was one exception; the ancient light cruiser Hector was now making a better speed than she had in the last twenty years. At twenty-six knots, black coal smoke mixed with occasional tongues of flame billowing magnificently from her funnels, this veteran vessel charged directly against the flow of traffic, back towards the immobile Republic and Albert Peach.

The Aegean-class of ‘light cruiser’ (by Admiralty classification only; any serious thought of using the Aegeans for light cruiser duty had long since been abandoned) had been described in the last Admiralty Annual Review as “limited to twenty knots at an absolute sprint” and “quite limited to no more than an anti-submersible duty in eleven-knot convoys and other peripheral duties which do not put overmuch strain on their antiquated coal-burning boilers.” Hector’s captain, the energetic John M. N. Dolby, did not put too much regard in either the Annual Review or in the orders of his commanding officer.

Hector charged straight past Athena, hardly a thousand yards away, and completely ignored the orders with her number ordering her to sea. Even when Rice broke wireless silence to ask just what in the hell Dolby thought he was doing and demand that he put his ship about at once, nothing changed. The only response Rice received, nearly two minutes later, was cryptic: “Intend screening Republic with smoke. God bless and God speed.”

The charge of Hector upset more than one merchant ship on its way out of Davao. The East Gallagaman Gwalior had to put her helm hard about to avoid ramming the cruiser and the steam packet Jan Maria only missed having her stern cloven off by a few yards.

-----------

((That’s about all I have for now. Sorry about the long response time -- I was unable to access the forums before yesterday for some reason. =/))

To: Baron Ainars Skrastins, Imperial Chancellor of the Holy Empire of Excalbia in the name of His Imperial Majesty, Joshua II
From: Duke Adrian Sterling, First Minister for Her Imperial Majesty’s Foreign Affairs, Duke of Valprietza
Re: Regarding the Proposed Conference of His Imperial Majesty

Your Excellency,

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government are most pleased to hear that representatives of the Gull Flag state are willing to negotiate in good faith, and that they have agreed to a cease-fire for the duration of this conference. We are also quite pleased to hear that the Grand Empire of Magnus Valeria has accepted the invitation as well.

Given these pieces of information, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government feel that we cannot in good faith reject the invitation at this time. However, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government wish the offices of His Imperial Majesty to impress upon the Gull Flag delegation that while the United Star Empire will not expect their officers to recognize the full titles of Her Royal Majesty Jessica II, we do firmly expect that they will not either assault her character or her honor at this conference with wanton slander. Furthermore the United Star Empire will automatically reject any attempts by the Gull Flag delegation to assault Her Royal Majesty’s current state of exile to the sovereign territory of Her Imperial Majesty’s realm or seek her extradition from the dominions of Her Imperial Majesty unless the Gull Flag delegation can compel us with such demonstration that they have abandoned regicide as a policy or it is the expressed wish of Her Royal Majesty to return to the Shield.

Given that these two final preconditions should be nothing more than a courtesy on behalf of the Gull Flag delegation if they truly are interested in negotiating in good faith, the United Star Empire of Valinon will attend the conference and give its proceedings the proper attention. Her Imperial Majesty also wishes to inform the Holy Empire that at this time the Most Honorable House Alderman will be assuming the full responsibility of protecting Jessica II’s royal persona for the duration of this conference and will act in concert with the delegation to be lead by Lord Reinstadler.

Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government are confident that the offices of His Imperial Majesty can lead this conference in a matter that will lead to an expedient and satisfactory resolution to this conflict.

With sincerest respects,
Duke Adrian Sterling,
Duke of Valprietza


Earth

The Valerian Beachhead, North of Cagayan

Mount nods appreciatively toward Tan, “Thank you for the offer of assistance with the headquarters, General, but it is a relatively simple affair for my command. It just requires the assembly of a relatively simple prefab modular structure and connecting some field equipment—no trouble at all I assure you.”

“I wish I could offer some assistance with the bridging problem as well, General. But I am afraid in what is probably justifiable wisdom, the imperial high command deemed it unnecessary to add bridging equipment as a necessary load-out for its ship-based companies. While I am sure our forces on Mars are in possession of such assets, transporting them here most likely will take time we simply do not have to waste. But in the future, I am positive that I can try to coordinate with our Solar logistic infrastructure to support our operations here if I can have a little bit more time to prepare.”

Mount almost seems to wince at Tan’s lack of artillery, “I must admit that my force lacks any appreciable form of heavy artillery support, sir. However, I can assembly a rapid-response force from my power armor force and use it to suppress any Ian artillery nest that pose a problem to our operations. I have a single squad of jump-jet infantry I believe would be perfect for the task, especially if I supplement them with one of the traditional power armor squads. I will have them assembly along with my recon squads and they can move behind your own force so they can move easily along to line to provide support.”

Mount rises with General Tan, and while the Valerian field commander grabs the whiskey composes a quick message to Leutnant Wagner to have him ready the four squads. Mount smiles at Tan, and at how well this campaign seems to be going. He even manages a slight laugh.

“General, if that is your favorite I think this may be the beginning of a very beneficial operation!”

**********

The normal assembly procedures of the Valerian infantrymen are once again interrupted by the presence of the Reichswehr contingent. Four squads of primed imperial soldiery march briskly toward the Valerian force with Leutnant Wagner at their head.

Two of the squads wear the standard issue danger suits, but their weaponry is a bit more exotic. Four of the sixteen men carry stripped down rifles with elongated barrels and simple composite stocks. Each also is equipped with a massive precision scope atop the rifle. The ISR-42 “Motive” is the most powerful, and indeed one of the few, infantry-issued energy weapons in the field. It was originally designed to allow the Reichswehr to exploit superior marksmanship in a future conflict with either the Ortagans or the Verniians. And this will be the latest field test of the production line in over three decades. The other twelve members of the danger-suited squads also carry a variety of more personalized weaponry ranging from extra side arms to several different knives. One even has a small magnetically driven grenade launcher attached under his Impaler gauss rifle.

The two remaining squads tower over their own counterparts and the Valerian troops. One squad of eight is dressed in the standard power armor, but Leutnant Wagner’s own squad wears the sleeker jump-jet variant, which sacrifices some armor and weaponry for a small, yet powerful, cluster of jump-jets to allow for redeployment across the battlefield. Unlike the standard power armor wearers, Wagner’s squad carries a massive Idlewild-class assault gauss rifle with three of the squad—including Wagner—having a heavy field suppression grenade launcher attached.

Wagner forms up his men and waits for the marching orders from General Tan. He takes a moment to review the progress being made on the orders Mount forwarded to him while at the conference. The transport assigned to Mount’s command is now being empty, with most of the company securing all-weather/all-environment (AWAE) field tents toward the western end of the Valerian camp. A second squad of four men in power armor and six men in danger suits are carrying the skeletal elements of the field headquarters toward the Valerian command center where another detachment of three is already digging to provide a foundation for the structure. Wagner nods with satisfaction and waits, ready to provide quickly for the fate of the dissident Gull Flaggers.

Above Davao

The final fighter of the Gelderlanders tumbles toward the ground, its tail wreathed in flame. Its pursuing Precentor starts to climb to join its two wingmen, but does so with more power than finesse. To the credit of the Iansisle fighter corps, two of its pilots had lured Vik into a since of false security and had damaged the series of maneuvering gravimetrics along one of the drone’s left wings. Vik focuses on his damaged weapon, using the primary engine to try and maneuver while seeking to reroute additional power to the other maneuvering gravimetric sections. The drone shudders slightly and slides into the rear of the three-drone formation.

Vik studies his situation and notes with modest disapproval that the Gull Flag pilots did take more munitions than he had intended to spend on them. The damage to the drone also means that assaulting the aerospace base is far more of a risk than it had been before. But the RI has his objectives to complete.

By now it is clear the RI’s two flights have two very different targets, which if nothing else will aid Vik by meaning the Gull Flaggers must divert their attention and their forces rather than coordinating a common defense. But the actions of the Iansislean battleship puzzle the RI and its clearly damaged nature means that it is not the threat previously believed by Kowle’s initial estimates.

Vik resolves that the aerospace base takes priority, and that the battleship Republic will become the mission’s “terror strike.” The flight barreling toward the aerospace base at Davao brings its remaining missiles online and begins target acquisition.

In what was a type wisdom—although he would call it a desire to not be wasteful—Kowle had the armament load out on the Precentors changed to where they didn’t carry even the low-yield fusion warheads typically used to sow close-ranged havoc in space combat. But that is far from saying the Precentors are toothless. In the space of fifteen seconds the trio of Precentors fire forty-eight high-dispersion, high-explosive warheads and twelve seeker missiles. The HDHE warheads were specifically designed for ground support operations by the Kriegsmarine and are updated by the Precentors own sensor feeds as well as what orbital data is available. Upon reaching a designated proximity from the target the warheads detonate and shower the targeted area with eight high-explosive charge bomblets. The seeker missiles were designed with space combat in mind, specifically small craft and fighter control craft interception in mind. Their complex—and noted for their sometimes faulty system—guidance systems are supposed to lock in on a host of signals ranging from radio waves, radar, lidar, mass radar, and laser-beam communications sources. After reaching their selected targets the warheads detonate.

The sixty missiles scream through the air with the howl born of high-acceleration gravimetric systems operating in a planetary atmosphere. But given the nature of their destructive power, subtlety might as well be an afterthought.

Vik’s second flight bears down on the Republic and loses altitude as they skim low over the coastline of Davao. Vik easily has enough firepower to reduce the battleship to a rapidly sinking hulk, but the RI has settled for what it views as a plan that is more efficient. Three Precentors loose a total of six HDHE missiles at the battleship, targeting its decks and the invaluable main batteries of the Iansislean behemoth. The flight of Precentors then separates once again.

The leading drone continues to move to intercept the Republic powering up its lasers and analyzing the battleship, looking for its communications equipment. The second Precentor pulls rapidly upward, clawing for altitude as it moves to fly over the battleship and set a course that will put it on an attack pattern with the Athena as it marshals the merchantmen safety. The third Precentor commences an attack that is born of a lack of understanding between Vik and the opponent he faces. Unable to assert the true nature of the Iansislean cruiser, the RI believes the rapidly accelerating ship to be a more advanced line of warships specifically designed to cover the Gull Flag fleet with cover for its operation. By destroying it, Vik believes he will present the Valerian navy with an unexpected advantage and in turn he makes a single directive to his drone. Three seconds later the third and final Precentor commences to rake the Hector’s with a withering three-minute salvo of highly-focused, rapid-burst laser fire.

In Orbit

“They are certainly still a bold and courageous lot,” Lord Wilhelm Reinstadler murmurs as he watches the live feeds from the Precentors swarming Iansislean forces around the Philippine isle of Davao.

“I must agree with you there, My Lord,” Markus Kowle says as the Precentors commence their attack on the Republic. At the other side of the table in his ready room the hologram of Fregattenkapitan Landerson nods his agreement.

“Bold and courageous…,” the hologram of Reinstadler strokes his well-trimmed goatee. “But I believe you have recently discovered something even more interesting, Kapitan Landerson?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I am loathe to impose, Kapitan Kowle, but would you show us that feed as well?”

“Certainly, My Lord.”

Kowle watches Reinstadler’s neutral face as the Iansislean and Excalbian fleets close on one another, intent for all appearances on giving battle.

“Almost too perfect,” Kowle hears Reinstadler mutter.

Kowle decides to press on in this impromptu conference as the Iansislean fleet presents itself in the line of battle, “My Lord, if I may you mentioned the subject of this conference the Excalbians are proposing?”

“Hmmm?” Reinstadler turns away from the dancing blue fleets. “Ah, yes, my apologies, kapitans. Emperor Joshua II of Excalbia has called for a conference between all the major parties involved in the present conflict—from ourselves to the Valerians to the Iansisleans. His Imperial Majesty’s chancellor assures me that all parties have contracted to attend this conference, with no stipulations at this time that are greatly objectionable to any present. By my estimates, I shall depart with the Princess-Regent for Excalbia within the next few days. And, of course, during the duration of this conference there will—or so my office has been assured—be a cease-fire in effect. It is therefore quite imperative, gentlemen, that we provide both the Princess-Regent, the Valerians, and ourselves with the best possible position prior to the start of the conference.”

“I will take it then, My Lord, that you bear no great faith in the possibility of a successful outcome of these proceedings?” Kowle adds cautiously.

Reinstadler contemplates his hands that are folded in his lap for a few moments.

“I have had a long career with Her Imperial Majesty’s Foreign Service, Kapitan Kowle, and in my career I have never seen a similar situation when opposing nations with such disparity of opinion between them as we have with these Gull Flaggers ever come to mutually agreeable terms. And I do not expect that I shall add to my list of new experiences in Excalbia. Bradsworth and Madders have shown their true hand, and it is a hand that the former allies of Iansisle and the government of the Princess-Regent cannot and will not tolerate without overwhelming compromise. The measure of compromise needed has been a feature of foreign policy the Republicans have shown themselves either unwilling or incapable of making.”

Reinstadler locks eyes with Kowle, “If the Republicans are also content to continue with their present course of action, especially where their actions in the oceans about the Shield are concerned, there is no doubt in my mind they will end the neutrality of the only appreciable power calling for moderation in their favor. If that comes to an end we can easily move to secure the end of this ‘republic’.”

“I presume My Lord speaks on this issue with similar orders to those I have recently received from the Admiralty.”

“You presume correctly, Kapitan. Due to the nature of this conflict—and the fact that there are more pressing matters closer to home—I have been granted special dispensation by both the Crown and the Government. As of yesterday, by order of Her Imperial Majesty, I am responsible for seeing this affair on the Shield through to its satisfactory conclusion for Her Imperial Majesty’s interest. Your command, Kapitan Landerson’s command, and two in-bound tenders from Mars are at my disposal for the duration of this mission. From this point forward I act as the soul representative of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government in regards to Iansisle.”

Reinstadler’s eyes turn back to the feeds, “And I expect to see them successfully concluded, gentlemen. I want to be kept fully abreast of this situation off the Shield. If the Republicans are fool-hardy enough to commence hostilities against the Excalbians, I want a transcript and visual evidence of this in my hands as soon as it happens—preferably before I depart with the Princess-Regent. I want the Republican forces in the Philippines bloodied and I want their power their visibly shattered, or at the very least bloodied in extreme. If this means carrying the Valerian expedition on the backs of your ships’ Reichswehr contingents so be it. If we have two major victories under our belts and the stupidity of the Republicans in the Shield on the table their fate is sealed.”

“And if the Excalbians commit a grievous error, I want it suppressed. Jam every single radio frequency across the Shield if you must, shoot down any messengers their navy sends back toward home, or ravage their fleet from orbit, but do not allow the Iansisleans to gain that moral victory. If we can delay it only a short while, Kapitan Kowle, it will be enough. The Republicans will commit a gross faux pas at this conference with the speed that a debutante does at her first formal ball, of that I have no doubt.”

Kowle conceals his sense of distaste. The byzantine politics that govern the Star Empire at its highest levels have no place in his mind, but it is a system that has endured with a considerable measure of success. It has even shown that it can generate reforms, even if it takes a considerable impetus to set the process in motion. He hopes his emotions are hidden as Reinstadler looks back at him, hopes but senses that Reinstadler could easily pierce his illusion.

“Either way this republic is done, Kapitan. And once it is done we can see to it that the House of Callahan takes more consideration of the reforms Her Imperial Majesty and Her Imperial Majesty’s Government will suggest. Once that is done we can return to the proper status quo in the least, but we will most likely see ourselves and the empire greatly improved by the outcome of the events.”

Reinstadler’s hologram stands. Kowle and Landerson’s hologram follow almost immediately after.

“I am afraid I have some business in Knootcap to attend to before I leave, gentlemen. I am fully confident that I leave this matter in capable and qualified hands. This may seem to be in poor tastes, but it must be done. Her Imperial Majesty expects no less in this matter.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the two officers salute.

“Godspeed,” Reinstadler vanishes.

Philippine Sea

Even as Jorge Mondlan prepares to attend a conference aimed at resolving the affair, Vincent Komarov's squadron continues towards the Iansislean Philippines, quite intent on doing battle with the Valerians. Certainly Kingston had brandished a bigger club during the Anti-Fascist War, when Timor was under the very real threat of invasion, but for the "peacetime" navy, beset by the scrapping of most of its assets, that two of its battleships can be put to sea at the same time and for the same mission is a notable achievement. Komarov would prefer the 1940 navy all the same. Robotstani sailors have reason to be confident in spite of disadvantages, though, with experience and regular training under their belts. It is very much hoped that the Valerians haven't developed the same level of skill, having, as they do, a considerably larger and more expensive force. As one officer puts it, semi-sarcastically, "The Valerians, swamped by nigh-limitless funding, have never had to make do with less. Their sailors are doubtless complacent, made so by victories over far smaller enemies under unequal conditions."

Lion and Conqueror lead the Robotstani component of the formation, making a steady 14 knots, both to conserve fuel and allowing the ancient Ochroma, with her old reciprocating steam engines, to keep pace. Three Albatross-class destroyers, extremely seaworthy vessels designed for chasing submarines in the North Pacific, and capable of sustained operation at speed, and five much older, but still quite capable, Tern-class A/S Sloops, provide valuable protection from enemy submersibles, even if their utility against Valerian surface combatants is limited. Sycamore helicopters, flying from decks improvised aboard the two Arabia-class cruisers, add to the escort. While their relatively weak powerplant limites stores capacity to a pair of 50kg depth bombs, the helicopters none the less provide the fleet with an airborne platform, the likes of which has been very much lacking since the decline of the Robotstani carrier fleet. If things go as planned, and no resistance is met between the middle of the Philippine Sea and Davao, the fleet should reach the southern port in a matter of days. In all fairness, Komarov could go faster, and if the Gull Flaggers are dissatisfied with the pace, he might be persuaded to leave his tiny fleet train under the charge of his sloops. Riasanovsky's second-hand cruisers had easily made 18 knots for the entirety of their trip across much less accomodating seas to the north, so if there is fuel to be had in Davao, a 22-knot cruise is not out of the question.

Aboard INV Holy Empire, West of Cape Jackson…

The arrival of the Iansislean fleet came as no surprise to the Excalbians. Skyhawks from Holy Empire’s accompanying escort carriers had been tracking the arriving force throughout the night. In the early pre-dawn, the destroyer Irbe had made a visual sighting of one the flotilla’s leadships – a cruiser, Irbe had believed. The rest of the Iansislean force, believed to be their Home Fleet, lay to the northwest of that lead ship, approaching the twenty mile effective range of their guns.

The grey and somber dawn seemed to match the feeling aboard the flagship. VADM Lord Guntis Sorensen stood on the bridge wing staring into the damp mist. Behind him LCDR Richard Grasis stood nervously flipping through reports and telegrams fastened to pressboard clipboard.

“Irbe reports smoke to the northwest – at least four ships; they must be in range, my Lord,” the tactical officer said.

VADM Sorensen nodded. “Sound general quarters. Remind all commands of our rules of engagement: we may not initiate any combat and may fire only if we first take fire from the Iansisleans. All ships are to maintain blockade formation, but are not to fire on any Iansisleans challenging the blockade.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Grasis said, clicking his heels and nodding before returning to the bridge to relay the admiral’s orders.

“Think they will fire first, Commander?” Sorensen looked over his right shoulder towards his intelligence officer, LCDR Isaiah Brooks.

Brooks rubbed his chin as he tucked his own clipboard under his left arm. As he thought about the admiral’s question the claxon began to sound. Soon a voice on the speakers announced, “All hands to battlestations. Prepare for action. God save the Emperor.”

Brooks sighed and looked out over the sea. “Hard to predict, my Lord. They’ve shuffled their command so many since the revolution, removing many experienced officers suspected of loyalist tendencies and elevating many officers ill-suited to command. Many of the remaining worthy officers, we understand, are caught between the fear of suffering loses – and being blamed for them by the republicans – and the fear of being seen as cowardly by the rabble.”

Sorensen nodded. “We need to be prepared to strike hard if they fire first. Let’s get all squadrons airborne; I want all subs with torpedoes armed and on alert and all missile-carrying ships to have their missiles armed and ready to launch. Let’s get as many targeting solutions ready as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” Brooks said nodding, before turning towards the bridge.

Sorensen spent a few minutes alone with the sea and the wind until he heard someone behind. He turned slightly to see CAPT Harry Olofsson, Holy Empire’s CO, standing in the hatch wearing an uncharacteristic smile.

“What has you so happy this morning, Captain?” Sorensen asked with the slightest tinge of a rebuke.

“My Lord,” Olofsson said flatly, “we’ve received two messages of interest. Skyhawk Three has a radar lock on what we believe to be the main body of the Iansislean flotilla, including its battlewagons. With your permission, sir, we’ll dispatch our attack squadrons and our subs to move into attack position.”

Sorensen nodded. “Reinforce my orders that they do not fire unless fired upon.” Olofsson nodded. “And the other message, Captain?”

“Vice Admiral Hill sends his compliments and informs you, my Lord, that New Boston and her squadron are now approaching from the northwest at over 30 knots. They believe they are now not far behind the Iansislean force.”

Sorensen smiled and turned back towards the sea. “It may prove to be a good morning after all, Captain.”

(OOC: New Boston, like Holy Empire, is a Fleet Battleship. Her squadron includes two battleship, Turaida and Southport, two cruisers, two missile cruisers, 10 destroyers and 5 submarines but no carriers. The battleships do, however, carry a very small number of Skyhawks.)

Hencross
Along the northern Daldon

The Daldon river basin between the railhead at Clyfton and the ocean at Vesshampton was one of the most heavily industrialized parts of Iansisle. For nearly fifty miles it stretched as one vast megalopolis, the individual towns and cities themselves indistinct, all connected by a vast system of barges along the river and the canals. South of Clyfton, the Daldon had a sluggish flow and varied in color from brown to a sickly grey-green depending on the local pollution.

In the northern reaches of Daldonia, just below the border with Thortraia, the river had very much a different character. The polluted flatlands of the Basin gave way slowly to verdant meadows and gently sloping hills through which the Daldon, here unnavigable, twisted and rushed with the wild abandon of a mountain stream. Other than the occasional mill, all of them far older than the young Republic, and a thundering coal train that passed through the middle of nowhere in the night on its way to Clyfton, there was absolutely no sign of industry. The people lived in tiny villages clustered near fords, crossroads, and the vast grazing fields that dominate the economy.

In the darkness of an early summer rain, five horsemen -- four men and a lieutenant of the 7th Weshield Hussars -- swept up a muddy path towards a small ranch house near the tiny village of Hencross. The mud muffled their hooves and occasional bursts of lightning insured that their lanterns did not draw overmuch attention. There could be no mistaking the pounding of a fist on wood, however, nor the cry of “Open this door in the name of the Republic!” A light flared in the back of the house, but before the door could be reached the noise of splintering timber indicated that the hussars had bored of waiting.

A man’s indignant cry was followed almost at once by the scream of a lady. A single service revolver shot rang out and then there was silence. Six figures exited the house -- five walking, dragging a sixth bound, gagged, and evidently out cold behind them -- and mounted without a word. A gesture from the lieutenant was sufficient for the three men unencumbered by their prisoner to ride around the house and toss their lanterns through the windows. Once the lieutenant was satisfied the fire wouldn’t be quenched by the rain, the hussars rode back whence they had come. Slowly, flames crept up the sign next to the door reading “Bradsworth”.

((ooc: Yes, yes, I know this may not be what most of you were expecting after such a long absence. I find that writing a brief story helps me get more in "nationstates mode" than actual roleplaying. Hopefully I should have actual responses for everyone (who hasn't abandoned the thread) soon.))

OOC:

Sorry for the wait everyone... the long wait. I was having computer issues.

IC:

The Valerian Beachhead
The Iansislean Philippines

In the Valerian camps, the soldiers chosen to become the first attack wave began falling into their ranks. Some of the more pious Christian ones uttered a prayer to St. George, St. Alexander, and St. Valerian as they picked up their weapons and lit up cigarettes for comfort. It was going to be the first time many have seen combat. Some were veterans of border skirmishes with Glasgova and Kuria. Some Valerians were disciplined, some were just eager for adventure in foreign countries. Whatever the reason, for whatever their background, they now were a united force under the white and blue cross of Saint George (emblazoned with an Imperial Eagle, nonetheless). The Valerian Empire will test its mettle against the Gull Flag Republic, and the Gull Flag Republic will show whether it has the guts to put up a fight to a foreign imperialistic regime.

Inside the headquarters, General Tan poured out a fifth shot of whiskey. The whiskey was cold, smooth, and refreshing. It was one of the better brands from Magnus Valerius, "Imperialische", distilled by the Germans living in the mountainous north of the Empire, in the state of Baden. Although Germans were loathed in the Empire, their alcohol and taxes keep the Valerians hiding their fangs of distrust. Claire Argyros was feeling pretty happy, but she could hold her alcohol quite well. Tan handed this fifth and likely final (for now) shot to Claire and Mount.

"Cheers! To a victorious expedition!" Tan said with a grin as he and Claire lifted their glasses alongside Mount.

Claire picked up the bottle and then stored the contents into the refrigerator hidden under a pedestal. It looks like she had revealed the General's secret stash of liquor.

"Well, it is time that I prepare for battle. I am glad to have had this meeting with you, Hauptmann," Tan said as he rose up from his chair and pulled out a sheathed sword from behind his little refrigerator. "Finally, I get to use this thing," he said to himself. It was an exquisite blade from a high quality forge. It was a shashka, a saber typical to the Valerian cossacks. The blade originated in Russia, but it was adopted by the Valerian military after seeing its fineness in the hands of Russian cossacks. Now, even some standard foot soldiers may wield this blade (all soldiers are required to have a sword on them). The best Valerian shashkas are extremely deadly, sharp enough to split a falling hair cleanly in half (but such swords are rare and expensive).

Claire leaned towards mount and giggled. "I will be keeping down the fort!" she exclaimed to Tan as he opened the door and left to his private quarters to put on his riding boots. Claire then said, "It was nice drinking with you, officer, but I have my duties that will be, *urp*, fun when I'm a little buzzed." She got up and escorted Mount out of the office and locked the door. She went over to the desk. At that moment, General Tan emerged from down the hallway, sporting riding boots, a sword on his belt, a carbine, and his five stars on his fatigues. "Alright, I sent a letter to my wife before, so I'm ready to go," Tan said.

The General went outside of Valerian HQ and went to the stables to fetch his horse. The General had a gray, reliable mare that he calls "Groznaya". General Tan did not decide to wear the flamboyant regalia of other Imperial cavalry men; he was smart enough to wear camouflaged fatigues. As soon as he was saddled up he rode out to meet up with his personal bodyguard and battlefield assistant officers, 500 men strong. The group rode on towards the gathering Valerian storm front in the camp.

The forces that were being organized consisted of 12,000 Valerian infantry in several different divisions. Many divisions consisted of different backgrounds from all across the empire. The XVII 'Zarosht' Division consisted of Tabrizians (which are Persians living in The Empire) and follow the Zoroastrian faith; Zoroastrianism is one of the major religions of the empire. The XIV 'Hagion Markos' Division were Greek conscripts from Kydonia. Of course, the majority of the soldiers were ethnic Valerians. Other than the foot soldiers will be 2,000 Cossacks accompanying the infantry. These cossacks are cavalry armed to kill, and they are all wearing black uniforms (as to symbolize the coming of death for their enemies). Each cossack had his personal standard in the form of a flag or banner flying flamboyantly at his back, and there were three main cossack hosts represented among these skilled horsemen.

The Zaroprokofiyid Host hails from the plains in the east of the state of Nikeah. They are the most numerous of the cossacks here in the Philippines. Their hetman is also present here with his colorfully plumed helmet and banners. Ivan Mikhailov is a warm character, who loves good drink and food. His heavy beard is showing signs of his age, with the occasional gray strands entwined within it. But, his eyes reveal that he still has sharp wits and a thirst for battle. The standard of the Zaroprokofiyid Cossacks is an elegant, medieval cossack plumed helmet on a light blue background, with a lotus and cross emblazoned below it.

The Valerianid Host is perhaps the eldest of all the hosts. They lay claim that the first Valerian King's family, that of St. Valerian (also known as Grand Duke Valerian II during his lifetime before he made himself "King of Valeria"), was from their host. Many people often refute these claims, considering that cossacks did not establish themselves until around 400 years after St. Valerian's death. Even so, this host flies the banner of The Old Kingdom, with St. Valerian's standard on it: a blue, wyrm-like dragon on a green background with a single red stripe lining the bottom of the flag. The host calls the upper banks of the River Vedus their turf.

The Boyaragradsky Host hails from around the city of Boyaragrad. They are perhaps some of the better skilled and free cossack hosts in the empire. the members that the host has sent fight here in the Philippines consists of the older officers and fighters in the host, but they are the nonetheless prestigious members of the host. The host's standard is a seraphim slaying a demon on a white background.

These hosts only consist of about 1,200 of the 2,000 cossacks. Other than the major hosts, the rest of the cossacks hail from smaller clans, distant branches of the major hosts, or from poorer cossack families, here seeking fame, glory, wealth, and, most importantly, women. Valerian cossacks usually take women as prizes in war, in order to increase their numbers rapidly. Here, where the cossacks are under nominal control by General Tan, is likely to not differ much.

Accompanying the cossacks are 1,000 regular Valerian cavalrymen. Although they are not cossacks and do not spend their normal lives living as nomads, they are still experienced with horses. Many are nobles who joined the army to find fame and to fight boredom (alongside The Empire's enemies!). They often wear flamboyant regalia (a rare few had requested plumed helmets in the old style) and often dismount in hard-fought battles to help hide them from enemy fire. While less skilled than cossacks, they are at least under General Tan's full control.

Finally, the artillery crews have rounded themselves up. Although much of the heavy artillery was still unloading, there are still quite a few good pieces to go around. The artillery crews have 27 small pieces, 12 medium pieces, 5 small mortars, 9 horse-drawn cannons, and, luckily, one large piece of artillery that was hastily set up. This large piece is self-propelled and has the most firepower out of all the other pieces. Although most of the Valerian artillery will be left behind, these pieces will try to make the best in removing enemy positions. Other than the artillery were the numerous machine guns...

As soon as the forces were organized for war, General Tan gave a small speech to the men that are taking part in the force.

"Men of valor, men of The Valerian Empire! Lend me your ears, your souls, and your lives. Today we shall march out to face our wretched foe, the Gull Flaggers of Iansisle. These regicidal maniacs have no honor, and would dare execute a good man rather than exile him. They will know true honor, when they see us parading over their flags...They know not honor unless it is to die by their swords! But... be careful men! These gull-loving, spineless Schismatics are known to have their bowels turn to water at the sight of of a fight!"

With that, Tan awaited for Mount to join up with the forces before heading out to war.

OOC:

Let me know if I missed anyone...

OOC:

The unrest in the empire begins to show...

IC:

Valogdin Camp
Somewhere in East Valeria

Alexander III did not rose to the throne all without some opposition to his policies enacted. Many good men and their families were jailed and suddenly were sent off to the eastern gulags of the Empire. The first 'gulag' was established by Emperor Archibald IV to make a noble pay for his pretensions against the emperor's plans to allow his daughter, the future Empress Victoria I, ascend to the throne upon his death. The gulag system saw increased use when Emperor Konrad III (of the hated Germanic usurper dynasty, the von Plittersdorffs) decided that it provided a cheap form of labor to improve the empire's infrastructure, but during the Age of Many Tsars the prison camps were all burned down (they were eventually rebuilt under Emperor Basil IV). Under Ivan III, the system slowly began to fade out, with only 100 people being incarcerated in the gulag system during the height of his reign. It was believed that Emperor Meijis I was going to eliminate the system once and for all, but even he had to imprison a couple of families who he believed risked the stability of the empire during the war against Sasukuo in the early part of his reign. After Alexander I's reign began with a noble revolt in the city of Orissa, the gulag system spiked in terms of the number of imprisoned. Alexander II pardoned many of the families in the system but Alexander III returned to the vile practice of imprisoning entire families in prison camps.

These families were imprisoned and holed up in conditions that matched the terrible conditions that Japanese Americans faced when detained into concentration camps during World War II. Entire families were given a certain quarter and were numbered. Many of the people in the camp were often poor nobles or average citizens who might have said a wrong word about Imperial policies (at least under Alexander III's reign). The term of the prison sentence in these camps for the families was until the man who was convicted of insulting the Emperor and his policies died of natural causes. If the family killed the man in desperation to escape, their sentence only lengthened as the successor of the deceased will have to then die of natural causes for the family to be freed.

These prison camps are out in the steppes of East Valeria, where cossacks and their herds usually roam and where the established cities lie on the Alai River flowing down the middle of this state. These camps look like shoddy little villages in the middle of nowhere. Often the camps were run by minor cossack families; nobles and officials declare these places 'too distant' for them to run. The cossacks, under orders from the Imperial government, have the able-bodied men go out and do work in chain gangs. Usually, the task out here is to fix dilapidated railroad tracks, herd animals, dig wells, build houses for ranchers, colonists, and noblemen (often, the building of entire villages were undertaken by this sort of labor) quarry marble, or mine coal. The women stay behind and cook, clean, and farm. The children get a rudimentary education. The cossack men in charge, however, often take advantage of the women in the camp. Rape is not unheard of, and often cossacks kidnap young, unwed girls to become their wives or mistresses. Some prisoner boys become adopted into the cossack family and to the dismay of their biological family, they soon become as cruel as the rest of the cossacks.

One man in the prison system was a former noble by the name of Andrei Irchoff. Andrei and his son were imprisoned for not praying for Emperor Alexander III when they visited the emperor to pay respects on his journey to The Philippines. Alexander III so far has made the gulag system a sort of joke, imprisoning people for harmless and/or stupid offenses (often such offenses concerned the Emperor's own dignity or ego). Andrei was just one of him. His wife left him once she heard about the arrest and fled north to the Yeni Halic with a Turkish businessman; being imprisoned for not praying on command was one thing, but finding out that you were a cuckold was perhaps the worst insult Andrei ever faced. Now, working on railroad tracks and digging ditches, Andrei was fed up. He was not used to such terrible treatment. He wasn't stupid either; he noticed that all the cossacks that govern the camps usually wield whips with no firearms or swords. Today was a day that will shake the foundations of Alexander III's reign.

Andrei was not alone in his plot. He collaborated with other prisoners in the weeks planning for this day. One was named Jean de Nevers, imprisoned for flatulence at an imperial banquet. Another was Vladimir Donyatsky. He was imprisoned for purportedly having ties with a communist cell in Magnus Valerius; all he was doing was greeting his son-in-law, who hailed from The Latin Soviet. They formed what was known in their camp (called Valogdin) as the Mighty Three. They were made to work on the railroad connected Magnus Valerius and Gothland-Ile de le Draque, a country and Valerian ally to the east. A cossack noticed Andrei slacking off and readied his whip. However, just as he raised his arm, Andrei turned around, and with a frightening yell, he bashed the horse the cossack rode upon with a sledgehammer. The horse was killed, and the cossack fell off with shock. With a gesture towards Jean and Vladimir, the rest of the prisoners rose up and began attacking the cossacks watching over them. One cossack stayed and began lashing at the revolting prisoners, but in vain. A pickax crashed through his skull, and the dying cossack was dragged and lynched up in a makeshift gallows. The rest of the cossacks, knowing that the fight was hopeless, fled. The prisoners rose up and headed back to the camp to let the women and children know: They were free!

Fortunately for Andrei, the leader of the newly independent "Town of Valogdin", there was an unguarded arsenal left behind by the cossacks to arm every man in the camp, numbering 1,939 men in all. There were a few machine guns and a couple of cannons as well. Now Andrei was more ambitious than just earning freedom. After all, he was a former noble. It was time to pick up the torch of freedom and find the other villages to free all of the gulag prisoners (12,000 in all), and then Andrei can earn himself not only freedom, but a fiefdom... a dream of a new nation formed under his rule, under the guise of a socialist republic. This would earn him support from the communist bloc on the Gedonian Continent (consisting of the nations of Oranjefoort, Great Mayapan, The Eusakdi Commune, Salzenburgh, and The Latin Soviet). With Valerian troops being tied up in war, the time was ripe for Andrei's chance for glory.

((you’ll pardon my abbreviated responses. I’ve been wanting to get back into this thread, but the long, complicated military scenarios are bogging me down a little bit and sapping my will to write. I’d like, if possible, to hit the major plot points and move on to Ex’s conference as quickly as we can.))

Donahue’s line continued speeding towards the Excalbian battle fleet, their ensigns boldly flapping. Although their turrets trained on the Excalbian ships and their destroyer flotillas made as if to threaten them with torpedoes, nonetheless all Iansislean gunners were under the strictest orders from the flag to hold fire. Donahue intended to both maintain neutrality and save face at the same time by ramming his formation straight through the center of the Excalbian fleet, demonstrating not only the superior firepower of Home Fleet but also Iansisle’s intense desire to see the Approaches clear of foreign fleets.

In Ianapalis, at #3 Jameston, de Fenne and his subordinates were drafting a formal letter of complaint to the Citadel regarding the presence of Holy Empire and her fleet near the Straits. It contained a notice that, although the fleet technically lay in international waters, nonetheless its presence near Iansisle’s long, vulnerable coastline and trade routes undermined Excalbia’s reputation as an ‘honest broker’ and threw a shadow of doubt over a conference which had not yet even begun. It ended with a reminder that Iansisle would not be able to negotiate in good faith while the Shield was menaced by foreign guns.

-------

Farther south, Sandmoor’s relief force, which had picked up the Robotistani elements, steamed towards Admiral Rice’s shattered command.

--------

The Republic[/i ]was quickly reduced to a hulk by the Valinor missiles. Although the [i]Crown class was among the most armored battleships in the world for its size, even 18” of steel on the turret faces could not stop the futuristic missiles. Deprived of its firepower and with horrific casualties among the exposed work crews, the Republic had lost all value as a fighting until. What survivors remained on or near the deck fought to contain and extinguish the fires that had broken out, while both main magazines and several auxiliary ones were forced to be flooded to save the ship.

Hector, a stoutly built ship of a previous generation, had her armor simply melted through by the lasers. Although casualties were nowhere near as catastrophic as on the Republic, one laser did melt straight through a boiler. The release of steam cooked the feeders alive and the loss of pressure stopped her engines dead in the water.

--------

The 11th Thortraians were perhaps not a veteran unit, having only existed a year and a half, but they were formed around the rock-core of the hearty Foothillsman. Rather taller and better built than the average Shieldian, Foothillsmen are as famed for their fiery tempers and quick fists as they are for unshakable valor and courage. 2,323 of them dug-in was a formidable force, even when armed with almost nothing. They awaited the Valerian onslaught.

((so, yeah. I’m interested in getting this thread up and running again. I’d really like to move on to that conference, though =). I’ve always been a bigger fan of political role-play than military.))

(OCC: I'm still very much interested in this RP, so, yeah, if you want to get it going again, Ian, I'll be around. And if the mods kill AMW the old TCB will need something else to do. ;)

I'll try to have an IC post up in a little bit.)

(OCC: I'm still very much interested in this RP, so, yeah, if you want to get it going again, Ian, I'll be around. And if the mods kill AMW the old TCB will need something else to do. ;)

I'll try to have an IC post up in a little bit.)

((wait, what's this about the mods and AMW?))

(OCC: Some moderator recently ruled that RPing real nations and populations is taboo, so, technically, AMW is no longer strictly allowed. We're hoping that the whole thing blows over without us getting noticed. If you ever want to return, you'll be extremely welcome by all. Al Khals set up a nation in the area of Costa Rica and Panama, so Mannicagua won't be by itself in Central America.

Incidentally, I'm also trying to push through a 1965 tech cap, so if that side of things interests you...

Anyway, time for an IC post, albeit a brief one.)

IC:

Government House, Kingston

Let it never be said that Robotstanis do not respect the power wielded by Valinon, whose warships range throughout the galaxy rather than throughout a cold and miserable archipelago in the North Pacific. Certainly, though, few Parliamentarians had assumed that the Valinor would be so bold as to actually play their trump. Republic's utter devastation at the hands of Valinor drone fighters has an impact outside of Iansisle, and Parliament is quick to erupt into heated debate over Robotstani support to the Gull Flag Republic. Many of those who, previously, considered it acceptable to assist the Iansisleans with Parliamentary resources, have begun to review their position, in light of Valinon's raising of the stakes.

"We are not equipped to fight this kind of war. Indeed, nobody is, neither Robotstan nor the Gull Flag Republic. What was once an acceptable risk has now become unacceptable; to pour forces into this conflict, against the total superiority enjoyed by the Valinor, is to write-off the navy. And I needn't remind this Parliament of what it paid for the four Lion Class battleships alone, to say nothing of the cruisers and destroyers present in the battlegroup now steaming towards its doom off the Philippines."

"Aye, we ought to promote a diplomatic solution to this crisis. Reinforcement of the Gull Flaggers is and always was a losing proposition; the Robotstan Democratic Front has always said so. Yet the Prime Minister continues to tread the path of futility. I call on this Parliament to end military assistance to the Gull Flag Republic."

"All in favor?"

The minister's motion passes by a fair margin; only the core Labor Party ministers and the Marxists register votes against the measure. If Jorge Mondlan were still in Robotstan, and not abroad on diplomatic business, he would doubtless be quite disheartened.

Sailing North with Admiral Sandmoor

"...Republic and a light cruiser have both been lost to Valinor flying saucers off Davao, Admiral sir!"

Admiral Vincent Komarov stands and ponders the news for a moment, before the crew is ordered to action stations. As shocking as the news may be, Komarov is not one to betray much emotion, nor is he one to flee from battle. The two Robotstani battleships, in formation with their Iansislean allies, quickly have their 4.5in secondaries and Bofors AA mounts manned, and air warning radars, along with lookouts, scan the skies for any sign of enemy warplanes.

(OCC: Some moderator recently ruled that RPing real nations and populations is taboo, so, technically, AMW is no longer strictly allowed. We're hoping that the whole thing blows over without us getting noticed. If you ever want to return, you'll be extremely welcome by all. Al Khals set up a nation in the area of Costa Rica and Panama, so Mannicagua won't be by itself in Central America.

Incidentally, I'm also trying to push through a 1965 tech cap, so if that side of things interests you...

Anyway, time for an IC post, albeit a brief one.)

((I can't see as AMW would fall under that restriction, as one would be hard-pressed to see most AMW nations as directly analogous to their real life counterparts. I'd love to pick Mannicagua back up some day, but...I barely seem to have enough time to keep up with Iansisle these days =/))

OOC:

I guess I am the one who has created the lion's share of bogging down this thread with side stories... I guess I have to limit myself.

IC:

With increasing tensions amongst the various Barons in the Valerian Baronial Council, the Valerian Empire seems to look towards a bleak and none too distant future. The Governor-King of Baden, Friedrich VI von Zellburg, wholeheartedly supports the emperor's bold moves. Many of the governor-kings also agree with him, but many of the lesser barons and nobles who have a say in the council are grumbling about possible economic damage that a war-time economy could have on Magnus Valerius. The Empire was only recently feeling successful in its economy; roads are being paved and the towering skyscrapers in Isangrad (housing many of the Empire's largest corporations and even foreign ones as well) attest to the prosperity that the empire has seen in recent decades. But, war is a fickle thing, and many of the agrarian states of the empire might suffer if men are taken from their fields.

Word of a revolt amongst the gulags were also being murmured in Magnus Valerius's elite. It has not been verified except by a drunken cossack from East Valeria, but if this is true, many nobles would rather see the Empire turn to its internal issues rather than fighting a war of "imperial glory" abroad in some small republic and its loose holdings.

That is why Feodor Gagarin and His Majesty Crown Prince Ivan ready to prepare and try to find a diplomatic solution to things. However, many other envoys from Magnus Valerius's neighbors will also be attending, merely nosy, watching to see how the strongest empire in the region will fare in the talks. One diplomat had acknowledged that he would be tagging along: Renier Memmo of The Most Serene Republic of Nova Venezia. Nova Venezia, a crowned republic, and Magnus Valerius are close allies, although their alliance is only for Nova Venezia's own defense.

Meanwhile in the Philippines, General Tan marches out with his men, hoping that the Valinor will follow behind his army. The Valerians march along with the infantry in front and the cavalry at the wings. The cossacks, who are a little more adventurous, have begun scouting in all directions for another ford to cross the Cagayan and take the Ians by surprise. Valerian intelligence has said that the Ians are at the Cagayan, but how entrenched they are is up to question. It may take some drastic measures to defeat an entrenched force, even if the Valerians have an advantage in numbers and (thanks to the Valinor expedition) weaponry.

OOC: Well I suppose I have my own extended absence to explain. Due to some unexpected problems at work that have also pronounced the problems of my course work I will not be able to carry NS affairs until early March. I will return to this thread then. If this will be too much of an issue please TGram me and I will try to respond to it as soon as possible.

OOC:

To keep things going along...

IC:

The Valerian Encampment
Northern Coast of The Philippines

As Valerians began to organize their encampment and entrench it (some have begun calling it 'Fort Alexander III') an armada of ships arrived along the shore as soon as the expedition to the River Cagayan left just a day ago. A rather decorated transport ship was the first to pull ashore. The proud double-headed eagle banners and the Valerian naval ensigns (Which, essentially, is the Flag of Scotland) rose proudly above the ship. The flag of House Borivich also rose above and flapped in the cool breeze.

The first to get off the ship were soldiers armed not with guns but with musical instruments. As soon as they arranged themselves onshore, they began playing the Valerian national anthem, God Save the Tsar, as a man in imperial regalia emerged and began making his way down towards the shore. Tsar Alexander III has arrived on the scene.

With his saber raised at his side and his face sternly upturned as he viewed the Philippine horizon, Alexander III was prepared for battle with 2,000 of his personal troops and bodyguards. His retinue were undying in their loyalty to him.

"Veni, vidi, Deus vicit," Alexander said as if he already conquered The Philippines. He quoted the exact words of Jan Sobieski when he described his triumph over the Ottoman Empire at the Battle of Vienna. Indeed, it was for God and Glory that Alexander was here to fight at the front of battle, trying to live out the glory like the hero kings of ancient Macedon or like great warrior kings like Peter I the Great of Russia or Gustav II Adolf of Sweden. Alexander III stood aside as his little contingent of troops unloaded and prepared for battle. The other troops on the ship emerged as well, but the majority of them are taking a much-needed respite from the open seas before heading off to other Iansislean possessions such as Bantam and Sarawak. The prized targets to the Valerians, however, were The Philippines and Gallaga.

Iansislean Palau

As the Valerians got underway in their campaign in The Philippines, a detachment of Valerians numbering at about 9,000 soldiers and numerous ships including the massive battleship HMS Ivan I headed to try and capture all of Palau. The Valerians looked for a possible place to spearhead their capture of this archipelago and most agreed that Koror (OOC: Ian, I'm assuming place names are the same as RL ones?) and Malakal Island were the prime places to capture first before the subjugation of the rest of the islands began.

At the head of the Palauan Expedition was Lieutenant General Boris G. Alekseyev, a skilled commander but rather inexperienced. Although he graduated with high marks from the Sankt Valerian Imperial Military Academy (the top military academy in the Grand Empire, no less), experience usually was crucial in separating the heroes from the chumps and wannabes.

“Down! Down, you idiot!” growled Corporal Taylor. Seeing no immediate response, he grabbed Private Sanderson by the waist and threw him to the ground into dense undergrowth.

“Wha--”

“Shut up! Don’t make a damn sound!”

Very quickly, even Sanderson heard the cause of Taylor’s alarm. The road -- if indeed the narrow jungle path could be called such -- rang with the sounds of hooves. All too quickly, the two hiding Iansislean pickets saw the terrifying image of Valerian cavalry.

“Don’t even breath,” whispered Taylor in response to the accelerate respiration rate of his partner. But it was too late.

“What the fuck is this thing!?” screamed Sanderson, jumping to his feet and ripping a particularly large insect off of his face. For the briefest moment, Sanderson saw the Valerian patrol and perhaps realized his mistake. Then Taylor, muttering an obscenity of his own, opened fire at the nearest Valerian, working his rifle’s action with the speed and confidence of a veteran.

-----

During the Chiangese War, when the South China Sea had effectively been closed to Iansislean shipping, there had been some talk of developing the small islands of Palau into a fortress. A few blockships and a small minefield had been laid to protect the harbor on Babeldaob, a tiny militia had been raised in Koror, an earthen rampart was built around the coal and fuel oil dumps, and three 6” mobile howitzers, manned by local reservists, had been arranged to protect the harbor.

Ten years later, only a skeleton of those meager defenses remained. With the Effitian front sucking money from the Republic, there was simply none left over to fortify minor possessions. Iansislean defence of the islands amounted to the three guns, some 250 untrained militia, and 30 Navy and Marines. When the small radranger on Anguar reported the approach of the Valerian fleet, most of the precautions taken were defeatist: codebooks were destroyed, sensitive equipment was wrecked, valuables were buried, and the coal and fuel oil reserves were burned, their black smoke curling for miles above the islands.

-----

Sandmoor’s combined Iansislean-Robotstani fleet, comprising four battleships, four MAFDs, eight cruisers, and two flotillas of destroyers, continued on its way south, cruising past Formosa on the same day that the ‘assault’ on Palau began.

A note arrives in Isangrad:

"Given the apparent collapse of the Excalbia Conference, I have been asked by government to initiate bilateral peace negotiations at once in the hopes of saving as many lives, both Iansislean and Valerian, as possible. I hope that a speedy armistice can be agreed to while the treaty is finalized.

-- de Fenne"

Ranalte and Madders turned away from the gallows even before Charles Bradsworth’s body had been cut down. The strode down the steps of the cathedral and entered Madders’ personal car, an old-model Westerton Jackrabbit. For a few moments they rode in silence as the driver slowly picked his way down the crowded street. Ranalte broke the quiet:

“Do you think that Citizen de Fenne’s note shall have any impact on the Valerians?”

“Not in the slightest,” answered Madders at once. “There may be a significant peace party in Isangrad, but I doubt that the Tsar will give up what he sees as easy conquest.”

“Perhaps if he were to suffer a great setback in his campaign, then he would be more willing to seek the negotiation tables?”

“Granted. But arranging that setback might prove troublesome.”

“If you will humor me, citizen, I have a few suggestions,” said Ranalte. Madders nodded, so the Sentrian general continued. “Now, I know that I am no admiral, but it seems obvious to me that the war at sea is being carried on in exactly the wrong manner. Alexander is engaged in the old game of colony-grabbing, shifting small land forces about to overrun much weaker forces isolated from the mainland.

“If this is allowed to continue, we shall lose all influence in the Gallanesian waters very soon. Palau is gone, the Philippines -- barring some miracle -- will not be far behind, and I’ve no idea why they haven’t landed in Sarawak yet. If we give them the time, even Fort Manly will eventually be forced to surrender, and then the path to Gallaga will be open.

“To me, citizen, this is completely illogical. We are the stronger sea power; it ought to be us shattering the Valerian fleet and sweeping their commerce from the ocean. It ought to be us shuttling small land forces about to grab colonies. However, while we keep Home Fleet tied up in Mansmouth, we’re ceding control of the seas to Magnus Valerius.”

“And what do you suggest, general?” asked Madders. “We cannot move the Home Fleet while the Excalbians are maintaining a fleet presence off our coast, or while half the Valerian fleet and a large amphibious force are unaccounted for. We could see Valerian Cossacks in Ianapalis within a month were it not for Admiral Donahue’s squadrons.”

“With respect, citizen, I believe that, given the natural geopolitical advantages of Iansisle, we have little to fear from an amphibious assault on the mainland. If we could completely seal off the Skull and the Weshield Strait with mines, then the enemy would be forced to land somewhere between Shieldend and Cape Jackson. That is land which is easily defendable. Also, the Navy’s perception that a hostile army landed on Shieldian shores equals defeat is a bit outdated. We have nine battle-hardned corps of troops ready to repulse any invasion. Transferring them from the Jaizar to the west coast would be a matter of mere weeks, if they were given full priority on the rail system.

“They would also free Home Fleet from defense to be the offensive weapon it was designed to be. Half of the Valerian fleet is sitting off the Philippines, far away from their home bases. If we were to fall upon them with eight battleships, four battlecruisers, twelve MAFDs, and whatever cruisers and destroyers the Admiralty deems necessary, we should win an annihilating victory. In the face of the loss of half their fleet, with minimal damage to our own, we could drive the Valerians onto the defensive, recover our lost colonies, reopen the trade routes, and perhaps even plan an offensive against Valerian proper.”

Madders sat thoughtfully through the speech. It was all so logical, so well-thought-out. Iansisle’s coasts could be defended by its army and a mine field; the damage done to trade by sealing off the straits would be minimal since so few ships dared sail to Iansisle anyway while the Valerians dominated the waters near Luzon; and the prospect of a second Unsterbank -- a republican Unsterbank -- against a divided and weaker enemy was too delicious to pass up.

“By God, Ranalte, if this works, they’ll have to make you an Admiral as well,” he said at last. “Go and make your plans for the defense of Iansisle’s western coasts. I’m putting you in overall command of the land defenses and the minefields. Be sure to coordinate with Coastal Command as well. If anyone gives you any trouble, report them to me.” The car pulled up at Jameston Place. “If you’ll excuse me, I must call on Admiral Hansfield.”

Ianapalis

A few days after Thomas de Fenne sent the letter to Isangrad imploring for a bilateral diplomatic talk between The Grand Empire and The Gull Flag Republic, a letter stamped with an Imperial insignia of a double-headed eagle arrived at de Fenne's office.

To: Honorable Thomas de Fenne
From: Feodor Gagarin, Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs

Greetings, Sir de Fenne,

I would be delighted to engage in negotiations with you. The Excalbian Conference is pretty much a dismal chance without Excalbian diplomatic contact as of late. A peace, however, might be hard to achieve. Tsar Alexander III agreeing to a peace is as likely as him shaving his beard off, but I will nonetheless try to initiate these talks without notifying him directly. Where shall we meet to begin talks?

Sincerely,
F. Gagarin

OOC: The rest will come tomorrow.

Hahaha, the raiding party ate a king that they captured by mistake once. They thought he was a priest because they had had too much beer.
However, the horn-crowned kings of Trollskog have held power for centuries, and have never been killed by invading forces or infighting(probably because the kings are the biggest).

Nightclaw of Trollskog

This is Wrong.

The Standard is almost respected once more.

Just a few years ago, Walmington's greatest, oldest newspaper lost all of its honour by deliberately ignoring the, er, side-effects of Mainwaring's anti-piratical 'adventure' in the rebel colonies.

But, today, with all Walmingtonian forces withdrawn from the Americas, the Conservative government ruined, the Whigs (all be it with half the former Tory cabinet amongst their ranks) in power, HRH King Godfrey III suitably humbled and decorative and once more venerable, Walmington -through The Standard- was free once more to pass judgement on The Shield.

And if republicanism was hard to swallow, this was just pure Marmite. Oh, Hell, it was Vegemite. At least Bradsworth played well with the voters. What in the world could we give them, now?

Maybe it doesn't matter. The Ians can't buy Walmingtonian in any significant quantity, anymore...

...wait, that's a problem.

Cogs were turning. The failure of the great big shieldian market was something that had to be addressed. Nobody else in the world wanted typewriters or fountain pens, anymore, and the Ians couldn't afford them. But the Walmingtonian Empire was in no position to force anything. The Walmy Pound, a benchmark for the Ians, was itself starting to struggle, the Cape Colonies and Waynesia had been given too much power, and too much confidence in the American retreat, and as to the military... HWMS Royal Oak was still flagship of the Gallagan Fleet, despite having been built in Iansisle probably a couple of generations before the late Mr.Bradsworth. She hadn't fired her 12" rifles in five years. They prrrrobably needed replacing.

Walmington lurked in some corner, scuffing shoes and muttering intent.

To: Honorable Thomas de Fenne
From: Feodor Gagarin, Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs

Greetings, Sir de Fenne,

I would be delighted to engage in negotiations with you. The Excalbian Conference is pretty much a dismal chance without Excalbian diplomatic contact as of late. A peace, however, might be hard to achieve. Tsar Alexander III agreeing to a peace is as likely as him shaving his beard off, but I will nonetheless try to initiate these talks without notifying him directly. Where shall we meet to begin talks?

Sincerely,
F. Gagarin

Minister Gagarin,

The Republic fully understands the restraints placed upon your Government by the less-than-responsible behavior of your Tsar. It is the considered opinion of the Directors in Jameston Assembled that, if Alexander could be presented with a diplomatic fait accompli, he would have no recourse but to stop this bloody and pointless war.

Needless to say, my government cannot trust a negotiation team deep inside Valerian territory. I would like to suggest Fort Manly on Bantam as a location for the talks.

de Fenne

((Walmy baby! I'm also godmodding with your country in this (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=517300&page=3) thread; check it out! Also, dare I hope that you might be back? or is this just a fake resurrection à la Tanah Burung?))

((Well, hopefully. I finally miss WoS. I also miss Dra-pol, so they're sort of coming back in AMW. Time will probably be split between them, and real-life I suppose, but Walmington should at least be doing things at a Walmingtonian pace. I think. Off to investigate that thread.))

Isangrad, The Valerian Empire

Feodor Gagarin, the Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, gathered his finest negotiators on Crown Hill Street in Isangrad in an unnamed but surely aristocratic edifice. It was a gloomy day. The winds had brought in a storm from King William's Sea to the north, and it had started raining. The numerous smokestacks and chimneys of brick abodes and manufactories in 'Old Isangrad' belched wispy smoke into the air, contributing to the gray atmosphere. Across the Vedus River, the modern skyscrapers of 'New Isangrad' poked into the low-lying clouds.

Gagarin and his entourage of diplomats assembled in a hall. The hall was decorated with typical Baroque style. The old, long cherrywood meeting table and chairs were recently polished, and the walls and furniture were inlaid with gold, silver, semiprecious gems and abalone. Paintings of unnamed Valerian nobles, dating from the 17th and 18th centuries, decorated the wall, their unwavering gazes focused on the

"I have summoned all of you here today," began Gagarin, “to assemble a diplomatic party to head to Iansisle to negotiate a peace between our countries. It is against our emperor’s will, but I am willing to risk being tried for treason in order to establish order and peace to both sides. This was an unjust war anyways, a war created on the whim of our emperor…”

Gagarin had to stop himself from saying that the emperor was a ‘spoiled brat’. He knew it would have been bad if he had belittled the emperor here. However, the diplomats all agreed that Magnus Valerius was to benefit from a swift white peace instead of wasting money, men, and resources in distant marginal lands. After all, the policy of the Empire since the end of Empress Viktoria I Velikaya’s reign back in the 16th century was that of maintaining the status quo and inward perfection rather than expansion as in ages before.

"We shall immediately head out incognito to Fort Manly on Bantam. This is a mission of utmost importance."

The Philippines

As Feodor Gagarin and his entourage of diplomatic officials depart Magnus Valerius for Iansislean Bantam, the Valerian Army in The Philippines was marching through the jungles. Unbeknown to the Valerians were the ragtag band of Iansislean rabble, waiting to ambush at the right moment. The Valerian cavalry rode up front, with their finely decorated uniforms and with the Cossacks in their camouflaged caftans following them up not too far behind. The Valerian Infantry marched dispersed in platoons in breaks between each cavalry platoon, to help defend them in case someone ambushed the army in this narrow path through the dense jungle.

Cossack Dimitri Donsev sniffed the foreign air as he rode atop his proud chestnut-colored steed. Something was not right in this lush foliage. A large bird flew across the sky above him, distracting his attention away from the march for a brief moment. What caught his attention back down to the ground however was a sudden rustle and a human yell.

"What the fuck is this thing!?”

This startled Donsev, who quickly reached for his scabbard and withdrew his long saber. Within mere moments, Corporal Taylor's shot came screaming out of the jungle and struck down a Valerian cavalryman's horse, sending the mount and his rider crashing to the ground.

"AMBUSH!!!" yells Donsev at the top of his lungs.

Quickly, the well-trained Valerian infantry drew their guns and began shooting in the direction of where the shots were coming through. Some brave cossacks dismounted and marched into the jungle with their swords and guns drawn to hunt down the Iansisleans. This was first blood, the start of the fight for the Philippines. The Valerian Empire and all of its manpower and glory against the shadow of The Empire of the Shield... little did the Valerians know was that the Emperor (or Aytokratorik) himself was amongst the Valerian cavalry. He was traveling incognito for his own personal glory, and if he fell, it would have major ramifications for the Valerian war effort and for the Empire... although his death would be for the betterment of Valeria...

Iansislean Palau

Lieutenant General Boris G. Alekseyev gazed at the isles from the HMS Ivan I. The Valerian troops were ready for their assault on the isles. As the transports began to move towards Palau at Koror, the Valerian ships turned towards the shoreline and began bombarding the shore. The Valerian ordnance was meant to clear the coast for the troops and to perhaps kill off the defenders to prevent any Valerian losses. However, Alekseyev noticed that something was not right at all on Palau. Apparently, the Iansisleans were not confident in holding the islands from the Valerian war machine. Gargantuan plumes of thick black smoke rose up into the air above Koror, rising high up in the sky and blanketing the sky over the main island of Palau. This pollution was an ominous sign that the Iansisleans were prepared for defeat. This was also fairly bad, as it meant less resources for the Valerians to take. Perhaps, Alekseyev thought, the Valerians should just land on the island, raid it, and then leave a detachment behind at Koror. They would have to move on.

The first Valerian squadrons began to approach the coastline as the hail of Valerian gunfire filled the dark, hazy air with explosions. It was a time for the meager Iansislean garrison to fight for the defense, despite the odds. Today, heroes will be born for both the Valerians and the Iansisleans.

((Just letting you know that I see this, MV. I've been terribly busy the last couple days -- hopefully I should have time to make a proper reply to this (and my other threads) tomorrow or over the weekend.

Peace, Ian))

OOC: Hey no worries man. I'm pretty patient.

"We shall immediately head out incognito to Fort Manly on Bantam. This is a mission of utmost importance."

((needless to say, this is all before General Ranalte's coup (which is post-war), so Thomas de Fenne is still the Director of Foreign Affairs, not the Governor-General of Gallaga))

The Valerian aeroflyer was picked up far out of Iansislean aerospace by a group of fighters from NFC Batam ((this is a retcon-- I've been saying Bantam, but I'm pretty sure that's a type of chicken. Batam is the name of the island ;) My bad.)). All the codes checked out properly and the flyer was carefully allowed to land at the aerodrome. The Valerians were there met by a group of Iansislean marines, part of the naval yards, who escorted them promptly to the government house, where they would meet with the Iansislean delegation.

No expense had been spared in finding diplomats to meet with the Valerians. De Fenne was himself there, as were a half dozen other top-level DFA members. De Fenne gestured to a chair. "Pray be seated. We have much to discuss."


Quickly, the well-trained Valerian infantry drew their guns and began shooting in the direction of where the shots were coming through. Some brave cossacks dismounted and marched into the jungle with their swords and guns drawn to hunt down the Iansisleans. This was first blood, the start of the fight for the Philippines. The Valerian Empire and all of its manpower and glory against the shadow of The Empire of the Shield... little did the Valerians know was that the Emperor (or Aytokratorik) himself was amongst the Valerian cavalry. He was traveling incognito for his own personal glory, and if he fell, it would have major ramifications for the Valerian war effort and for the Empire... although his death would be for the betterment of Valeria...

Taylor went down first after having just squeezed off three rounds. A Valerian bullet caught him in the skull, messing the tree behind him with a spray of red gore. Sanderson, who had never managed to recover his rifle, went down next, hit in the shoulder and the stomach but still clinging to life.

At the prepared Iansislean defensive line, troops looked from one to the other. Gunfire...the battle had started. If they could just hold out for the three days Farport needed to concentrate his forces, they might yet hold the islands. If not...

The first Valerian squadrons began to approach the coastline as the hail of Valerian gunfire filled the dark, hazy air with explosions. It was a time for the meager Iansislean garrison to fight for the defense, despite the odds. Today, heroes will be born for both the Valerians and the Iansisleans.

Naval bombardment was far more than the local militia had signed up for. Both native and Iansislean members of the militia broke soon after the first shells began falling on their positions. They ran back towards the small town s nearby, desperate to find shelter of some sort. Their antique rifles were sometimes brought with them but more often abandoned along the road.

The small group of sailors and marines -- some twenty-seven, not counting two invalids -- did their best to man the 6" howitzers as the Valerian landing craft approached. One was found not to fire and was quickly abandoned, whereas the other two were able to keep up a grossly inaccurate and slow rate of fire. Shortly after they opened fire, however, one of the howitzers was hit by naval fire. The 15" shell tore into the beach, dismounting the gun and killing its crew. Very quickly, the defense of Palau had been reduced to one gun and fifteen men, who knew a hopeless case when they saw one. The marines and sailors also broke, running back into the town.

The Valerians might notice the Gull Flag in the center of town being hauled down, replaced with a white flag.

((sorry this is so rushed -- wanted to give you a response, but I'm still short on time. =())

OOC: Hey, don't worry bout it. It's a pretty good post for a rushed post. :)

IC:

No expense had been spared in finding diplomats to meet with the Valerians. De Fenne was himself there, as were a half dozen other top-level DFA members. De Fenne gestured to a chair. "Pray be seated. We have much to discuss."

Feodor Gagarin headed the Valerian delegation as they landed at Batam. Fort Manly was indeed a nice place, he thought, although it probably has seen better days before the revolution. The top Valerian negotiators followed closely behind him, as well as a priest. The priest was not only a representative and communication line from the Valerian Orthodox Church, but was also a skilled statesman. He was, after all, Gagarin's brother.

The Valerians arrived at the government house with the protection of some Iansislean marines. Gagarin thought it was unnecessary, but then again, if the Emperor found out about this, he would have them all shot for treason for working against his "God-given plan".

Gagarin finally met De Fenne, Director of Foreign Affairs, face to face. The Valerian bowed (as custom) and then spoke, "Thank you, Your Excellency, for having us Valerians here today." Gagarin sat down and so did the rest of the Valerian delegation. Gagarin's brother, Boris, muttered a prayer before taking a seat on the right of his brother. Boris, who spoke a little out of turn, stated, "May God bless you, De Fenne. Of course, even though you are not of the Right True Faith, He loves you the same."

'Quiet you, we're not trying to make converts...' Feodor whispered.

Boris nodded, "Sorry if I had offended you, sirs. But I do believe we have much at hand. We are here to help negotiate a peace behind the back of our tsar."

The wizened Feodor adjusted his glasses and continued, "Indeed, many Valerians believe this war is just a pointless waste of time, resources, and most importantly, life, on both sides. That is why I, on the behalf of the citizens of The Valerian Empire and Crown Prince Ivan Alexandrovich, have traveled here to negotiate some terms with the Gull Flag Republic. The Crown Prince has demanded a white peace, if possible, and he has even offered to supply Iansisle with free grain at the expense of the Crown for any war damages. But, let's discuss this much deeper De Fenne..."

Feodor's English, compared to other Valerians, was impeccable. Even though English was required in The Empire, it was a second or even third language, only to be used as a lingua franca. Usually, Valerian accents butchered English, such as replacing 'th' with 'd' or 'f'. Gagarin's was only slight; he was, after all, educated abroad due to his family's profession of being overseas merchants.

The only thing that worried Minister Gagarin was that if the treaty was signed, the Emperor would have to be disposed of somehow; Alexander III will either ignore the treaty and then just break it, hunt down and kill his political opponents, or both. It was this craven emperor who made Feodor stuck between a rock and a hard place. That is, perhaps, another topic Gagarin will bring up with De Fenne.

At the prepared Iansislean defensive line, troops looked from one to the other. Gunfire...the battle had started. If they could just hold out for the three days Farport needed to concentrate his forces, they might yet hold the islands. If not...

The Valerians were well-trained, but even then, the cover of the jungle still gave the Ians the upperhand. Before Taylor went down, he took two more Valerians with him. One cavalryman was taken in the chest by his second round, and the third ripped into the abdomen of a Valerian rifleman who doubled over in pain and was dying fast. The Valerian cossacks charged into the rough with their sabers and guns, slashing and firing away as the Valerian infantry stood their ground and gave them cover fire. The cavalry regulars stood on top of their horses, lacking the bravery of the cossacks, and made themselves sitting ducks as they opened fire with their carbines.

Donsev, with his sharp saber drawn, slashed away while two other cossacks opened fire at some Ians. The cossack came across Sanderson, lying on the ground from two bullet wounds and bleeding profusely. One of the cossacks raised his sword, ready to decapitate the Ian before Donsev raised his arm to stop him.

"No, he might have a wife and children. Think, we are not savages."

The cossack squatted to check on Sanderson. "He lives," muttered Donsev, and he pulled away Sanderson from the front line to a field medic. "Treat his wounds and see if he can live."

The medic went to work right away once Sanderson was dragged out of the jungle and away from the gunfire. The medic administered a shot of morphine and tried to stop the bleeding; he removed the bullet fragments from his stomach and shoulder as best as he could before trying to patch the injured Ian up. Donsev overlooked the operation, even offering the Ian some brandy out of his canteen, before walking back towards the front line. The cossack disappeared into the forested bank with his gun and sword drawn.

As the brave and highly disciplined cossacks continued into the jungle, some Valerian infantry began to follow suit with their rifles. They needed to clear the area. Even though it would be tough, they had the mindset ready that they could win this day. The casualties began to mount, mostly from the side of the regular Valerian cavalry. Finally, many began to dismount, as they should have when the gunfire started, using the corpses of horses as shielding from the gunfire.


The Valerians might notice the Gull Flag in the center of town being hauled down, replaced with a white flag.

The Valerian naval bombardment pretty much ended the battle before it even began. As the Valerians landed, with Alekseyev gazing over the horizon, they all noticed a white flag. Apparently the gunfire from the Valerian ships had either killed most of the militia or dealt a mortal blow to their morale. The Valerians stood down and began marching in platoons towards the local towns to find the last of the garrison.

"They have surrendered. The only thing left to do is round up the remaining militia, take them as prisoners, and then raid the island for resources before moving on."

Alekseyev was wondering why there wasn't much of an effort to fortify Palau more with more forces and better guns, but it could be a ruse. Reinforcements were probably on their way from the homeland. They had to hurry and wrap things up in Palau before moving on to other colonial possessions in the area before they waste too many resources or get engaged in a real battle.

The Valerians thus began to search Koror and the other towns in Palau for remaining Iansisleans to round up and to present to Alekseyev. All in all, the Valerians were very courteous when approaching locals and asking for their forgiveness for intruding... even in their thick Valerian accents. The Valerians, if they come across any militia members, would also act kindly to the defeated soldiers as well. After all, if they gave up so easily, there were not that many and they were not willing to pose a threat to the Valerian forces anyway.

OOC: ...Bump?

((I'm still here. It's just been a crazy St. Turkey's Day. Should be back in the swing of things in a few days. For now..sleep ^.^ ))

The most prominent thing Gagarin and the other Valerians might notice in their travels through Batam was the enormous quantity of merchant shipping clogging the harbor and even spilling out into the holdings of neutral Calarca. The Valerian offensive against the Philippines had effectively split the Iansislean empire in half, cutting Gallaga off from the mainland.

De Fenne smiled at Boris’ sectarian comments. He had been raised a Roman Catholic, of course, but like most of the other radical leaders was a firm secularist. There were few radicals who were willing to come out and proclaim their atheism, as the majority of their base was in the intensely devout working classes, but few felt any real attachment to faith.

“No offense taken,” de Fenne assured Boris.

“Minister Gagarin, the government of the Gull Flag Republic could not agree more with your assessment of the current conflict. We have no wish to fight Magnus Valerius and harbor no ill-will towards your people. I only wish a speedy end to this conflict -- those reparation payments you mentioned can be discussed at a later date. Right now, I feel that the best use of time would be an immediate cease-fire on all fronts to prevent any more bloodshed while our bureaucracies hammer out the finalities of a mutually agreeable antebellum peace.

De Fenne watched Gagarin’s face. He realized what a risk the Foreign Minister was taking, negotiating behind his sovereign’s back. “It seems that it is in our mutual interest that this treaty be completed,” he said. “And also in our mutual interest that no reactionary elements in your own government are allowed to torpedo the peace talks -- can the Gull Flag Republic be of any assistance in helping to suppress those elements?”

------

“That’s it boys! Give ol’ Ivan a taste of Shieldian steel, what!”

These were the words of a particuarly brave lieutenant of the 11th Thortraia as he crawled from position to position, pausing every here and there to snap off a revolver shot at ghostly shapes through the forest. His bravery was rewarded as such bravery usually is, with a bullet through the throat.

The fight was quickly degenerating into one of individual fire teams, far different from the massed assualts over open terrain that had characterized the Effitian War. The Thortraians, although stoic and strong, had never been trained on how to handle such a fight and were slowly being driven back towards the headquarters o the 11th. Forget lasting three days -- it was starting to look as if the Valerians would secure the fords in a matter of hours.

------

The Flying Corps might cultivate a cult of the heroic suicide, but the Valerians were unlikely to find such reckless heroism among the citizen-militia of Palau or the vastly outnumbered marines and sailors, most of whom were logistics rather than riflemen anyway. They willingly surrendered, trusting to the laws of war.

If Alekseyev thought that the weak defense of Palau was a ruse, he was party correct. While his forces were securing the islands, Sandmoor’s small combined Shieldo-Robotian fleet had received word that Palau was under attack. He was coming with four battleships and the battlecruiser fleet, with the full might of Donahue’s Home Fleet less than a thousand miles behind him.

OOC: Sorry for the late reply, but I had finals. I'm done now though, hehe.

IC:

The Shieldians were indeed itching for an end to the violence. The war has caused some disruption in their empire's functions, separating Gallaga from the Tilsitian continent back home. Batam and its busy port was full of backed up trade traffic, which makes Gagarin wonder whether it was an exaggeration or were they really just waiting for the fighting to end. After all, they could just slip around Borneo and the Moluccas, past New Guinea, and head to the Tilsitian continent without much threat from the Valerian fleet. Either way, things were not looking good for the Iansisleans.

"I agree, a ceasefire is necessary... but the main issue remaining is Emperor Alexander III. If we sign a ceasefire, he will ignore it and continue fighting. That is why I suggest that your troops adopt a Fabian strategy and avoid combat with him and his army in the Philippines. If he reaches Manila, well... I have another favor of your government. I would request an assassination attempt on Alexander III..."

Gagarin coughed and one Valerian attendant brought warm tea. Gagarin cautiously sipped the cup and then resumed, "I want to leak to you and your government that Alexander III plans to reveal himself at Manila once he reaches the city and will declare a triumph after he captures the city in front of the troops and Filipinos. He plans to annex the city, and turn the city into a crown possession. If you can arrange for an attempt on his life then, it would be beneficial to our talks now. Of course, you shouldn't make it obvious - have a small band of troops sacrifice themselves on the Valerians while the assassin takes a shot at Alexander III. If it doesn't look as if he fell in a skirmish, then the bloodshed simply won't end - the Valerian populace and the Crown Prince will rally to continue to fight this war if his death was from a less than glorious mean. At least, that is what I believe will happen."

-----

The valiant Valerian cossacks charged through the thickets of foliage and continued to pick off scattered Shieldians from the 11th Thortraia. Several fell to the ground with various blows from the Thortraian bullets as they ripped through the vegetation and found homes in the bodies of cossacks and riflemen. As the Thortraians degenerated into smaller groups, the cossacks, with their high discipline, stayed rather unified, taking shots and slashing at Shieldians in close range with their swords. The standard Valerian riflemen began to cautiously follow the cossacks and the swath they had cleared through the unlucky Thortraians who were in the front lines. The Valerian riflemen kept the pressure on with their fire as the cossacks continued their advance. However, some of the regiments, particularly those from Valeria Province, began breaking up into smaller groups much like the Thortraians, due to the forest and the lack of nerve of some soldiers to stay as unified as the cossacks. The soldiers from such deforested areas like Isangrad did not know how to handle fighting in the forest, being more used to open fields.

-----

With the garrison of Palau rounded up and the islands pretty much secured, Alekseyev decided to pull out as quickly as he can to avoid engaging any reinforcements. Some Valerian radar has picked up ships coming from the north. It was time to leave.

Alekseyev brought the POWs on board of the HMS Ivan I and had them treated rather well, feeding them fresh Valerian food that were leftovers from the banquet he and the other ship officers were having.

The ships soon pulled out of Koror and began heading straight towards Sarawak to raid the area as well.

((hey, no worries. Nothing like the break I took. Hope the finals went well =)))

The simple truth was that the Shieldian government had not had to deal with a situation where it did not have complete command of the seas in fifteen years and had panicked when the route from Gallaga to the Shield had been compromised. Many freighter captains were willing to take their chances with escape, but with the merchant marine schooled into an almost military frame of mind by years and years of the convoy system, were unwilling to defy the government's moratorium on shipping. A few rogue skippers would try to force the passage, of course, but most waited.

In the main conference room, de Fenne regarded Gagarin with his cold blue eyes. The Shieldo-Noropian politician hadn't made it as far as he had in the cut-throat environment of Lawrence Madders's National Assembly by being willing to trust to blind faith.

"And suppose this is all a ruse, Minister? Suppose that you do not want a truce at all? Suppose that you merely wish to play me for the fool, and take Manila unopposed? What insurance do I have against that?"

-------

"Fall back! Fall back!"

The call was going up all across the Thortraian line as the Cossacks broke them in several places. The crew of one machine gun which had been set up facing the wrong direction had finally managed to reorient it and, even as their comrades retreated around them, started sweeping the treeline with .303" fire. The barrage only lasted less than a minute,as a Valerian grenade quickly fell in with the gun and tore the men to shreds, also wrecking the mounting and barrel.

Men retreating behind cover soon found themselves flanked by the more numerous Valerians and the general impression soon became that they were surrounded. At that point, the majority of the 11th Thortraia broke and started running. A few diehards kept up the fire, though, mostly from the cover of ditches or particularly dense thickets.

------

The ships were the advance guard of Sandmoor's force -- a few light cruisers scouting in front, supported closely by Admiral Jones' battlecruisers. A little farther back was Sandmoor's Third Battle Squadron, surrounded by its escort of destroyers. A few Spirit aircraft located the Valerian fleet, but with his force running low on fuel Sandmoor decided instead to put into Palau and refuel. The oil and coal stocks on the island had been burned, of course -- it was their towering cloud of smoke that had alerted Sandmoor in the first place -- but the Admiralty, anticipating difficulty, had sent a large supply convoy along with the fleet. Sandmoor only needed a harbor to effect the resupply.

He moved cautiously, as was his nature, first sending out a cruiser to the harbor. He did not know whether or not the Valerians had left a garrison; if they had, he would either have to try and storm the islands with his ships' marines or use one of the more isolated, smaller harbors which would consume precious time.

Still, every hour brought Donahue's reinforcements another fifteen miles closer, and Sandmoor was eager to rejoin the main fleet.

OOC: My God, Iansisle is still here! Huzzah!

((For what little time I have, yes. =) ))

Gagarin looked at de Fenne quizzically. How could this rather haughty Iansislean think of his plan to eliminate Alexander III as a ruse for more violence? After all, it was Alexander III who wanted war, not Gagarin. Gagarin thought that such a plan was feasible and acceptable - after all, a "ceasefire" means nothing if Alexander III continues to fight and spill Valerian and Shieldian blood. Luckily, Crown Prince Ivan, who is acting as regent while his father is on the field, had expected something like this and sent an important element in the deal.

"Your Excellency, I assure you, this plan will work. If we sign a ceasefire now, Alexander III will not know about it and will continue to eradicate your forces in the Philippines. If this were a ruse, we would have came to this meeting with a fleet of battleships and would have wasted Batam to cinders by now!"

The usually calm Gagarin was getting a little frustrated. Iansisleans, with their prejudiced ways probably thought of the minister as a sly weasel trying to pull something.

"I have personally placed my head on the line. If the Tsar found out I was here, I would be executed for treason, and his son, Crown Prince Ivan, would meet a similar fate. After all, if Alexander is dead, his son will immediately assume power, and he is, by far, much more intelligent and pro-Shieldian. He has sent me here on this mission. And if that is not enough assurance of our intentions, we have brought you a hostage. An imperial hostage."

One of the members of the delegation suddenly looked shocked and was repulsed by Gagarin's words. He pointed to himself, "Who, me?!"

It was Prince Pyetr, Ivan's younger brother. He was not dressed in typical imperial family member attire, dressed only in a business suit. The sixteen-year-old was never concerned about imperial duties and would rather be partying, getting drunk till past twilight and chasing girls. Perhaps now he would have a duty.

"My Lord de Fenne, this is Prince Pyetr, son of His Imperial and Most August Majesty Tsar Alexander III, and a playing chip in this diplomatic game. I offer him to you to keep as hostage by orders of Crown Prince Ivan Alexandrovich. But, I must insist, the plan of action against Alexander III will be one of the only ways to stop Alexander III and his crusade, lest he dies in combat before reaching Manila. That, too, can work, if you think my idea of avoiding combat with the army in the Philippines is not worth it. He's traveling with the Valerian Imperial Cavalry, so it could be likely if he leads a charge. But, I may ask, what plan does your government have for this situation?"

-----

The Thortraians were retreating away from the Valerian advance, but the Valerians did not drive them out without some losses. As soon as the Shieldians reoriented the machine gun and swept the forest with a barrage of bullets, many brave Cossacks that dismounted and led the charge and some of the Valerian infantry close behind fell. It was less than a minute, but nonetheless it was still quite devastating. It could, however, been worse on an open field with cohesive lines of Valerians being mowed down by a few hundred machine gun rounds.

As the Thortraians began pulling out, the cossacks began to mop up the rest of the remaining defenders, running them through with sabers and rifle bullets. Already, the Valerians began securing the fords and were ready to press on as soon as the gunfire would end.

-----

The Valerian raiding squadron with the flagship HMS Ivan I was already steaming off towards Borneo to attack the Iansislean strongholds there. However, when Sandmoor arrived at Palau, the first thing that he would notice that it was rather quiet. The old Iansislean fortifications were transformed into smoldering ruins by the bombardment of the Valerian ships and the flags of the Gull Flag Republic were gone - in their places were the blue and white flags of The Valerian Empire, emblazoned with the golden double-headed eagle. Any contact that Sandmoor would try to make with the Shieldian garrison headquarters around Koror would not be received and would result in static. To the Shieldians that had just arrived it seems that the meager garrison had been massacred (although in reality, they were carted off along with the Valerians as they left Palau).

Hiding amongst the civilians were several hundred Valerian marines. Some were hidden amongst the vegetation of the tropical island, waiting to ambush any Shieldian they would find that stepped on the island. Several of these men were snipers from the 19th Isangradian Sharpshooters. It was their time to make a brave standoff, albeit a rather foolish one; they had little chance of survival if they were all discovered by the Shieldians. Alekseyev had them for the purpose of being a speed bump for the Iansislean fleet; Alekseyev needed all the time he could buy to raid Sarawak and then return to the Philippines to merge with the main battle fleet of the Valerian Empire at Manila. But, if things went badly, he would have to hastily abort his Sarawak mission and try to merge with the Valerian fleet for the safety of the mission and for his own squadron of ships.

"Sir, we've got company," said an ensign to Alekseyev as their fleet hurriedly rushed towards the Spice Islands. "We've been spotted by the Shieldians."

Alekseyev peered at the skies overhead and saw the Spirit aircraft hovering overhead before making a sharp turn back to Palau.

"Ready the Anti-Aircraft cannons for the next time they return," Alekseyev ordered, "but let them go now."

The race was on. The Shieldian fleet knew where Alekseyev was headed.

OOC: Bump?

((Yes, I know >.< I make no excuses this time -- just briefly lost interest in NS. Hopefully it's back now!))

It was certain that de Fenne, meticulously schooled in the language of revolution, resented being referred to as ‘My Lord’ – a dangerously reactionary title – but by now he had written off Gagarin’s blunt language to unfamiliarity with Shieldian diplomatic customs and was willing to forgive the slight gaffe. He regarded Pyetr with cold eyes. This was the same prince, if he remembered correctly, who had survived a Naval Intelligence Office masterminded assassination plot on some God-forsaken island in the distant Atlantic. Whether or not Pyetr ever knew about the attempt on his life was a purely academic question for de Fenne, who as Director of Foreign Affairs and a close confidant of Lawrence Madders had been privy to most of the operational details. Now the Valerians were offering him up as a hostage – one who, if Gagarin’s plan turned out to be a ruse, could possibly be used to force a negotiated settlement with the Tsar himself.

The prospect, even though it involved some slight doublecross of the apparently honest foreign minister, appealed greatly to de Fenne but he knew he must continue to play the part of a suspicious but honest broker. It was true that de Fenne desired peace, but for different reasons than Gagarin. To the Iansisleans, the loss of the Philippines and even the suspension of the Gallagan trade were minor inconveniences and the casualty lists so far did not come close to rivaling four years of bloody stalemate in the Jaizar valley. He desired peace first and foremost because the war was grossly unpopular with the people and because of lingering doubts in de Fenne’s mind that the reeling Shieldian economy could sustain a war effort.

“In the name of the National Assembly,” de Fenne said at last, “I will accept your offer. I do not wish to tell you, of course, what the consequences will be if this turns out to be a trick. If there is one thing we Shieldians hate, it’s dirty dealing. The boy will be treated with the customs due his rank until such a time as a peace treaty is concluded.

“As for a plan, I doubt that specifics have yet been formulated,” he continued. “I will pass along all the information you have given me here to our military commanders; hopefully, they should have an actionable plan within the next few hours. In the mean time, may I show you to your hotel?”

De Fenne also snapped his fingers once, pointing an index at Pyetr. Two bulky Pentonshire soldiers in the khaki of the infantry stepped forward to take the imperial hostage away. “Will you please come with us?”


The Thortraian division had not lasted as long as General Farport would have liked. Even now, his army was still assembling, collecting regiments and even detached companies from small villages and islands around the archipelago. Some detached units now found their way to the assembly point blocked and, in accordance with standing orders, took up the role of flying columns to harass the Valerian supply lines.


Fortunately for Alekseyev, Sandmoor had no intention of following his fleet. An innately cautious man, Sandmoor did not wish to expose his detached squadron to the possibility of defeat before the overwhelming strength of the Home Fleet could be brought to bear.

For much the same reason, the Valerian snipers left in Palau were unlikely to get much action, unless their rifles could reach from the relatively unprotected shoreline to the fleet of Iansislean vessels which crowded into the harbor. Shore leave was not authorized and the refueling of the vessels was conducted with the colliers and tankers that had been escorted down. Donahue and his two battle squadrons were due from Mansmouth within three to four days and Sandmoor, who did not like the eerie silence of the island, was unwilling to risk his marines – who doubled onboard as damage control and gun loading teams – in an assault on the islands.

If any fire was received from the shore, the light batteries of his cruisers and destroyers would surely be enough to silence it; if not, the heavy guns of his battleships certainly would suffice.

Prince Pyetr looked at the Iansisleans with utmost disgust and loathing, spitting at the guards. The Valerians, however, assisted the guards. A Valerian diplomatic smacked Pyetr on the head with his cane. "Settle down boy! You're going to ruin this whole operation!" bemoaned the diplomat. Odd ways of diplomacy, yes, but Valerians at least get the job done and make sure nothing is botched. With an assuring smile, Feodor Gagarin bowed and also added in some words. "Well, most esteemed colleague de Fenne, I am glad that you have taken up my offer. I assure you that we live up to our end of the dear. Crown Prince Ivan and I have our heads on the line, so do not think this is a mere trick." Valerians truly are quite sly, but not in the matter de Fenne has in mind. "Speaking of the Crown Prince, he wishes all of you good health and offers his wishes. In his words, he had stated, 'Long Live the Gull Flag Republic'. Now, while we are all here, let us continue with some more business. Are there any matters that the Gull Flag Republic would like The Grand Empire to know? Would you also need any other information on Valerian troop movements? I could leak some, perhaps...but if not, my delegation and I would love to see our hotel."

All of this was part of a great conspiracy that de Fenne has not a whiff of. This was indeed a ruse, but not on the Gull Flag Republic. This was a deep plan that was to be hatched on Tsar Alexander III himself. There were insiders, such as his eccentric weapons developer, his own ministers, The Valerian Orthodox Church, and even the Crown Prince himself. Several millenarian groups believe that Alexander III will spell the downfall of the "Eternal" Valerian Empire and have actively recruited many to oppose Alexander in favor of his young and much more savvy son, Ivan Alexandrovich. Of course, this war was the perfect cover for the elimination of Alexander III "The Fool-Hardy". A direct attack by these groups, however, could spark a civil war, so it would be easier to have an Iansislean pull the trigger and end the reign of Alexander III.

The only thing that may prevent cutting the tsar's reign to a year and a half would be if de Fenne and the heads of the Gull Flag Republic had reservations and decide to not pull through with it; they might rather like toying around with Prince Pyetr, a mere pawn, and an irresponsible and unimportant second son - yet Alexander's favorite son and preferred heir "...if only he had been born a few years earlier!".

With reservations as being treated as a hostage, Pyetr followed the Pentonshire soldiers. He was regretting coming along with Feodor Gagarin and was questioning his fate as an imperial hostage. He wondered how well the Gull Flagger scum would treat a rightful, civilized Valerian imperial, considering how they gutted the Callahan dynasty not too long ago.

-----

The Valerians continued forward as planned - the harassments by the Iansislean fighters were a nuisance but the Valerians engaged only when attacked. Alexander III's main plan was to dash straight to Manila and then proclaim himself 'Emperor of the Philippines'. Instead of mopping out the Iansisleans, the Valerians now were trying to push to Manila.

Little did Alexander III know that General Tan, the main brain behind the army in the Philippines, was also an insider on this large conspiracy on the emperor, and has let his troops know to back down once they reach Manila.

-----

Assured that he was not being tailed, Alekseyev headed off towards Sarawak. His next plan was to raid Sarawak before returning to rejoin the main Valerian battle fleet in the Philippines. Sarawak was perhaps a remote and underdeveloped outpost, but Alekseyev was ambitious and wanted some glory out of this war. He wanted a promotion. However, he too was partially into the conspiracy, if not fully embracing the move - he was banking on Prince Ivan to give him benefits after this war, but if the plan turns out as a disaster, he wanted to be on Alexander's good side just in case.

As quiet as Palau was, there was no interference coming in from the shore. The Valerians were smart enough not to open fire on ships - it would be a futile battle. If they had some artillery batteries it would be a different story. However, the snipers did not want to kill themselves on the steel of the imposing Iansislean battleships and stood down. Any shore leave, however, will be met by their bullets.

((MV: I'm not sure how, but I somehow entirely missed this post. I'll reply when I get back from work. Sorry about that!))

As the prince of a hostile nation, Pyetr could not really expect roast hog and peeled grapes from the Iansislean soldiers. However, under strict orders from de Fenne, he was not overly mistreated. A few ethnic slurs were whispered behind his back, a less-than-royal meal was served, and his 'chambers' had bars on the window. There was, however, true malicious manhandling of him.

------

As planned, the Iansislean forces continued to refuse battle. The combined Army of the Archipelago, as Farport had dubbed it, now numbered some 20,000 men-at-arms, with another 8,000 scattered throughout the islands. The road to Manila, however, was uncontested and the city undefended.

-----

Home Fleet, after its exhausting voyage from Mansmouth, did not pursue. At Sarawak, the only target of any military value would be the shipyards at Laughlin, which were defended by some 6" guns and local military units. Although not a match for a proper invasion force, they would probably suffice to hold out against shore parties and small marine detachments.

With everything arranged, and with Crown Prince Ivan waiting in Isangrad for news of his father's death, the conspiracy moved along as planned. They led the clueless Valerian emperor to his impending doom on the streets of Manila. The foolish emperor thought that the "Iansislean Hordes" had evaporated after his show of strength and have scattered, failing to become a force to match his armies. He thought that victory was imminent and that the Philippines would become his own little imperial fief. The proud ruler pressed on, and soon they reached the outskirts of Manila.

"Well, we have no forces here to oppose us!" the emperor delightedly remarked upon approaching the apparently undefended city. The emperor rode well in front of the troops, unguarded and parading himself in the city. "My dear denizens of The Filipines! You are now in the good hands of your new liege, Alexander! You are now Valerians!" he shouted at people along the road to Manila. Yes, he was close to his goal in Manila, and all things will be according to plan... but not to Alexander's plans.