NationStates Jolt Archive

2/15/2008 10:21 P.M.
The Unified Churches Building, 4216 Rue de Calviton, Genevoria, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.

The broquard curtains had been pulled in the ''upper priests' library'' leaving only the flicker of a small fire to illuminate the room. Three men, Johan Borges, Arrie Conzol, and Carmine Latimer, sat around a low circular table.

The three men were arguably the most influential men in the House of Boothby, after Thomas Christopher Clark Boothby, the hereditary ruler of the nation.

Borges was the bishop of the northern Canton of Richenbach, Arrie that of the southern Canton of Riechenbach, and Latimer the chair of the Unified Churches.

The room had an eerie tension within it. All three knew what they were there to discuss, they knew without asking what the others were thinking.

Latimer begain, "Johan, I assume you already know this, but the Unified Council of Churches is extremely agitated by your recent comments at the convocational meetings."

Latimer would have continued but he was cut off by Borges, "Carmine, when have we ever had to constrain ourselves over the worries of lower council members? I am not some alter boy that need ask permission before he speaks."

The three sat in a moment of edgy silence, then Arrie spoke, "But you are not just upsetting the lower council, you have sent whispers throughout the entire House of Boothby, all the way to the head of the royal family. How can you possibly hope for us to stand behind you?"

Borges reply was icily calculated, "Listen to both of you, you sound like whipped dogs. I have always supported you both, in all your ambitions and have you not risen to your current status because of my direct support? What is the House of Boothby or the royal family without the Churches' support?

We grant them their divine right, we keep and interpret the sacred scriptures of the Authority. We do not need the royal family's support, they need ours."

The other two men shifted anxiously in their seats. Borges was going to far, to directly claim hierarchy of the royal family, it seemed insane. Arrie questioned, "Yes, we give the divine right, so if we accuse the royal family of floundering we accuse ourselves of false judgement as well."

Borges responded quietly, almost in a whisper so that the other two had to lean in closer to hear, "We can only give the divine right, if those it has been given to fall into sin and disillusion it is not of our doing. The people of the House of Boothby will never turn on us, their connection to the Authority, but they will turn on those who have failed them."

Arrie buried his head in his hands. Latimer sighed, "turn on...what do you mean by that? How can we advocate revolt on the holy bloodline? It goes against generations of support of the Church and the royal family..."

Borges continued, "We can, and we will. The royal house has turned on us, they have given up all connection with the Authority and us, the Authority's mouth piece on earth. They have denied us of power long enough. We are the holy connection, the Church is the conduit between the House of Boothby and the Authority, and as such all power should be vested in us!"

Arrie looked up to meet Borges gaze, "But how? How do we take power away from the royal family?"

Borges smiled kindly, he knew the other two had been bent to his will, the will that would free the House of Boothby, "Do not worry, go back to Bellevue and await word from me, I have a plan..."

OOC: Oh snap! Too bad there's nothing for the rest of us to react to yet.

ooc: yeah, not yet. I am sorta just RPing this out by myself, as opposed to making news stories about it. But there is always the possibility of outside influences at a later date.

2/20/2008 9:20 A.M.
The Unified Churches' Building, 4216 Rue de Calviton, Genevoria, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.


Johan Borges sat in his office on the fourth floor of the Unified Churches' headquarters. He held in front of him a letter he had drafted to Arrie Conzol, the Bishop of Bellevue. It read:

======

Dearest friend Arrie,

I am writing you with regard to our last meeting and the important subject of which we discussed. As you know our National Convocation will begin next week, and I have prepared a speech that I will deliver to the delegates outlining our position, below you will find its contents:

'''"Regional delegates, Reverend Latimer, and all members of the Unified Churches, it is my privilege today to deliver to you a message that will forever change the fortunes of the House of Boothby.

I speak directly of my desire to see the Unified Council of Churches take political control of the House of Boothby. I know the concern of many of you is that such action, or even the mentioning of such action is an affront to the so called "holy" family. However, I need not remind you that all divinity this bloodline has claim to come directly from our acknowledgment.

We, the Unified Churches, are the conduit between man and the Authority. The Boothby family that has ruled our nation has done so because of the divine right we have granted them.

But now that same family that has been anointed by the Church for so long has turned its back on us! They have denied us the political influence that is rightfully ours. They have taken our gift and given nothing in return.

I say, it is the Churches' time to take back what was given so long ago. Take back the divine right, which is ours and ours alone. The royal family is an ancient one, but it is a family of men, mere men. We brothers are so much more. We know the thoughts and desires of the Authority. We hold the holy scriptures. We have studied, and interpreted them, and it is us who dictates the work of the Authority on earth and in the House of Boothby.

Do not feel bound to a sinful monarch. When the time comes, delegates I urge you to vote with me, vote for the Unified Council of Churches to take back what is rightfully ours!"""


I trust Arrie that I can count on your support, and I urge you to demand the same of your delegates. We cannot, and will not fail to pass this vote. When the vote is passed at the Convocation the royal family will have no choice but to grant us powers of state. The Boothian people will not tolerate an unholy ruler. We are almost there Arrie, we are almost rulers of the promised land.

I also must trust that this letter or its content will not reach the eyes or ears of anyone but yourself until the Convocation has been called to order.

Warm regards,
[i] Johan Borges

======


Borges finished reading over his letter, folded it, and placed it in an envelope. Dripping red wax on the back he pressed a signet ring into the warm liquid and let it harden. Soon, soon the time would come when the Authority's wishes would be realized, and Borges himself would be the one who had made those wishes a reality.

2/29/2008 9:17 P.M.
The Unified Churches' Building, 4216 Rue de Calviton, Genevoria, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.

Events had begun to unfold according to Borges's plan. He had delivered his speech on the second day of the National Convocation of Churches. There had been an uproar in the national media, but as he had foreseen no official statement from the royal family. How could the royal family renounce the institution that granted them their divine right?

The rest of the week had been consumed by more mundane Convocation business, but all the delegates minds were on the vote that would come at the end of the meetings.

It was on the fourth day that a car packed with an improvised explosive device had been found near the Convocation's meeting hall. This had thrown the Lower Council of Unified Churches into an uproar. Whispers of government involvement spread throughout the meeting hall. Borges and his closes confederates were the only ones who knew the truth behind the car bomb. The bomb had been placed in the vehicle of one of them, and later anonymously reported. The effect had worked perfectly, casting suspicion on the House of Boothby government. Better yet the police and government of Riechenbach had ordered the Convocation to halt while an investigation took place. This contributed more suspicion as it appeared that the government was trying to disrupt the Convocational vote.

OOC: In your revolution to come, I'm guessing that Boothby will be toppled. Are you planning on letting someone exfiltrate them?

2/30/2008 10:32 AM
The National Convocation of Unified Churches' Administrative Offices, Montreux, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.

Carlos Vingard, the elected head of the National Convocation held his telephone to his ear, a dial tone ringing droningly. He was still in shock from the conversation he had just had. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Slowly he placed the receiver down, wiped his brow, and standing crossed the room to a bookshelf. He glanced at his watch, 10:33 AM, sighing he took a bottle of vodka from the shelf, poured a half glass and downed the fiery liquid. Vingard cross back to his desk, sat, and wrote the following:

"To all National Convocation delegates,

As the elected head of the National Convocation of Unified Churches it is my obligation to unsure the viability and continued success of our organization. With this in mind I write to inform you that the 2008 National Convocation has been adjourned for an indefinite time, while the recent terrorist activities are investigated. You are all requested to return to your respective congregations and explain to them why no annual delegate vote has been taken yet. Furthermore, I would urge you to comply with any governmental investigators as they look into this weeks attempted car bombing.

May the favor of the Authority guide us through this dark time.

Sincerely,
Carlos Vingard
President of the National Convocation of Unified Churches"

3/1/2008 2:01 A.M.
The Unified Churches' Building, 4216 Rue de Calviton, Genevoria, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.

Johan Borges had entered through a rear service dock, using a key he was not supposed to have. He had moved cautiously up the staircase that was normally used by the service staff. A thin film of sweat covered the palms of his hands and forehead. He had left his villa on the shores of Lake Genevoira and made his way on foot through the city to the Churches’ office building.

Since the arrival of Carlos Vingard's letter had arrived on his desk Borges had been on edge. He had never believed that the weakling would have rolled over so easily, for he had little doubt that some agent had reached out to Vingard, strong-arming him into this sham of a postponement.

The black sedan had appeared outside of Borges's villa that afternoon. He had watched it from an upper window most of the day while considering his next move. In the dead of night he had slipped out through a cellar door, and moving through his garden reached a back alley.

Now Borges stood in his downtown office, sweaty, tired, but galvanized. He moved quickly, lighting a small fire, emptying his drawers and files into it. He poured himself a small draft of gin, took a deep sip, and poured the desk into the fire.

Borges sat at his desk and drafted a quick message, folded it and placed it in an envelope. Exiting his office he locked the door and moving silently made his way to the dark, empty lobby. The envelope went into the mailbox and Borges slipped out into the icy night.

3/3/2008 8:22 A.M.
Residence of Arrie Conzol, 1022 Rue de Balthes, Nova Zembella, Canton of Bellevue

Mrs. Arrie Conzol had just brought her husband his morning coffee and new paper. Arrie looked up and smile kindly,

"Thank you Varonik."

She smiled at her husband as he turned back to his toast and eggs.

Arrie blew on his coffee while flipping over the paper. His stomach lurched, hot coffee spilled down his wrist, his eyes scanned frantically over the story on the front page:

======

BODY OF CONVOCATIONAL PRESIDENT CARLOS VINGARD FOUND

http://img.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2007/02_02/bodyDM_468x349.jpg
The body of Carlos Vingard wheeled out by EMT operators

Montreux, Canton of Riechenbach- Today the body of Carlos Vingard, elected president of the National Convocation of Unified Churches, was found late last night. The president's body was found in Vingard's apartment just 2 days after he postponed the controversial Convocational vote that would ratify Johan Borges's radical claim of the Churches' claim to political control of the House of Boothby.

Official investigators have not yet commented on the nature of Vindgard's death or the circumstances surrounding it. According to family members who could be reached, Vingard was in excellent health and not suffering from any bodily or cerebral maladies.

The death of Carlos Vingard has sparked off investigations into many high ranking Church officials, but many of those under-suspicion have pointed a finger at the government demanding an unbiassed investigation into claims that the HOB administration had secretly contacted Vingard just days before his death.

With Vingard's death, the leadership of this years National Convocation falls to Reverend Carmine Latimer. Rev. Latimer has yet to make an official statement about either his predecessor's death, or the postponement of the Convocational vote.

======


Arrie rose from the table quickly, his wife worriedly running after him.

"Damn it Varonik, just leave me alone for a minute."

Arrie went to his study, closed and door and rang Borges private line. The phone rang, once, twice... there would be no answer.

"Oh...please..." Arrie whispered into the phone.

He hung up the receiver and tried to dial again. Still no answer.

3/3/2008 5:34 A.M.
Montreux Civil Service Coroner's Office, 561 Rue de Victoiria, Montreux, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.


Philip Truska, head of the Montreux gendarmes, walked briskly into the coroner's operating room. Dark rings hung under his eyes and his breath smelt of stale coffee.

As he entered the room he looked first at the body of Carlos Vingard. The body lay naked on a metal operating table covered only by a light blue sheet from the waist down.

Phillip looked up to the coroner, "Anything yet?"

The coroner started, "We have just gotten blood samples to the lab, we should have preliminary tox screens done within two hours. Full blood work within three and a half, maybe four.

I was just in the middle of my superficial examination of the body. You will observe this."

The coroner lifted the sheet revealing the mans knees, deep purple bruises covered them.

"Yeah, he was a priest, I assume he prayed a lot," shot Philip, letting his fatigue get the best of him.

The coroner recovered the body, and rolled it on its side. He indicated for Philip to look. As Philip lowered his eyes to the level of the body he saw a small red dot, nearly invisible to the naked eye.

"What is it?" Philip asked.

"I can't be exactly sure at the moment, but it looks like a hypodermic needle puncture mark to me. Given the fact that there are not prescriptions on record for Mr. Vingard requiring direct injection I would say we need to see that tox screen."

Philip nodded silently. After a moment of silence, "Contact me when you get the results from the lab."


3/3/2008 7:52 A.M.
Montreux Civil Service Coroner's Office, 561 Rue de Victoiria, Montreux, Canton of Riechenbach, HOB.


The coroner picked up the phone and dialed Philip Truska.

"Yes, the lab report just came in.........Yes, Ricin....... Yes sir, one hundred percent certain......Thank you sir.....What?......Yes sir I understand.... Yes, nobody but you sir...."

The coroner returned the phone to his desk.

3/4/2008 7:25 A.M.
HOB Wilderness 145 KM North East of Genevoria

Arrie Conzol's car rattled as he drove it up the mountain road. A map lay folded in his lap. Arrie squinted into the low morning sun, there was something in the road ahead of him. He brought his car came to a stop in front of the two foot piles of rocks. He sat in his car expecting something to happen, looked at the map, looked back up the road, then in the review mirror. Nothing.

Arrie opened the door letting the cold mountain air in. Stepping out he turned his engine off, the sound of humming insects filling his ears. Arrie surveyed his soundings again,

"HELLO!" He yelled. No response.

Arrie moved to the rock pile and stooped to move one of the smaller rocks from the top. As he straightened again he startled, dropping the stone.

Johan Borges stood in front of him, a small black revolver in his hand.

"Were you followed?" Asked Borges.

"Good God, Johan... please put that away."

"Where you followed?" Borges repeated his eyes looking past Arrie back down the mountain.

"No, no, I wasn't followed. I did exactly like your letter detailed."

Borges lowered the revolver keeping it at his side. Moving forward to the car, "Then you have the money?"

"Yes, I got the money from you villa's safe, and as much as I could from the Churches' discretionary fund."

"Well done friend." Borges opened the driver's side door and leaned in pulling out a black duffle bag. "Knock down those rocks, there is a small road to the left about 200 meters up the road. Take your car down it, cover it well with branches and walk back down through the woods, my camp is there."

Borges turned and walked into the woods the duffle bag over his shoulder.

3/4/2008
Carlos Vingard's Funeral, A Mixture of Emotions

http://img113.imageshack.us/img113/5764/funeralpicturesdeadmanikq4.jpg
Vingard's open casket viewing

Montreux, Canton of Riechenbach- Carlos Vingard, the late President of the National Convocation of Unified Churches, was put to rest today. Among the many sentiments expressed by head clergy was the great void left in the Church after Vingard's death. Some however, turned their sadness into vim as they subtly and not so subtly attacked the HOB government, accusing the administration of trying to cover up Vingard's cause of death, which many believe was a murder, and not an unknown malady that the coroner's report sited.

3/13/2008
North East of Genevoria

Communications specialist Carl Lasslo listened for a reply on his radio, as the remaining five members of the fire team spread out establishing a perimeter. There was a slight delay, probably some problem with the satilites, Lasslo thought as he looked up through the rain.

It was a grey morning, and the misty rain added to the chill of the mountain air. 'Morpho 1' had been humping it through the mountains east of Riechenbach for a week and a half now and everyone was growing tired of the wet and cold.

Their fire team had been deployed on patrol to the region after a report had come in of the possible spotting of Johan Borges. Borges had disappeared several weeks ago following the attempted bombing the National Convocation and subsequent death of Carlos Vingard.

Lasslo himself was a religious man, having been brought up following the typical Boothian norms. He knew that the Boothian blood was a divine one and that the royal family indeed were favored by the Authority. Hunting down a servant of the Church, and a bishop at that, had drained him emotionally. Non the less, he was a professional soldier and knew that though no public announcement had been made, Borges was implicated in Vigard's death. Furthermore, it was rumored that Borges was going beyond mere words and speeches and was actively recruiting a militia.

Lasslo's mind clicked back onto reality as his radio crackled, "Fire team 1... this is RHQ... Fire team 1 are you receiving? Over...."

Lasslo responded, "RHQ this is one niner fathom we are recieving, over."

The response came back in from the Riechenbach HQ, "One niner fathom, arial surveillance temporarily suspended due to poor visibility... continue on course and maintain radio contact. Over."

"RHQ...confirmed... fire team 1 will continue on course. Over and out."

Lasslo rose from his knee and moved to the squad officers position, "Sir, arial surveillance is nil for the time being, HQ wants us to keep humping it north east."

The squad officer, Leo Malkin nodded and signaled the fire team to take up a recon formation and move out.

The fire team formed up again with weapons sergeant Johan Tellos taking the point. The men headed up hill through the trees and soon disappeared into the mist.

The HOB squad stood around the rusting remains of Arrie Conzol's car. Further down the mountain they had found the remains of a camp, but it looked as if who ever had occupied it was long gone.

The license plates had been removed and the engine block ID filed off. Non-the-less, the car fit the description of Conzol's.

Malkin radioed in the find and waited for further instructions. He did not know that Borges and Conzol were thousands of miles away.

Tag

[ooc: Anselmus, I hope you do not mind me making up locations within your capital city]

3/28/2008
Anselmus

Borges and Conzol sat in the lobby of The Albergo Spoletium. Borges sat in am overstuffed armchair writing something in a leather bound folder. Conzol sat across from him finishing his breakfast of casalinga toast and expresso. When Borges was done writing he closed the folder and slide it across the table to Conzol.

"There is the speech you will deliver in to our people, Arrie."

Conzol looked doubtful and replied, "Johan, I am still not entirely convinced that I am the best person to do this. Why not record the speech yourself and have it aired?"

"Because Conzol, I need somebody on the ground there that I can trust. Do not think that I am oblivious to the legal issues you may face, but we will need you there non-the-less. Also, you are not implicated in Carlos's death. To arrest you would be a grievous blunder on the part of the Royal Family, but if it happens stay strong my friend and remember that the Authority will be watching over you."

"I will due as you ask, Borges, but do not forget in your ambition that I too have paid a high price for all this."

Borges smiled in his charismatic way, looking like a kindly grandfather, "Of course my friend, I will never forget what you have sacrificed. And when the time comes I will not forget the reward you have earned."

With that Conzol rose and departed the Hotel.

Borges sat for a few more minutes gathering his thoughts and then went outside to the curb. He waited for his Anselmus contact, who would hopefully be able to supply him with the weapons and equipment he would need to make his rebellion a reality.

OOC: No, not at all.

Outside the Albergo Spoletium:

A metallic-dark grey Audi S6 with black-tinted windows rolled to a stop in the street in front of Borges. The rear door opened and a man in a dark suit stepped out, closing the door behind him. He approached Borges and extended his hand.

"My friend, I am Jack Haley. I believe we have a meeting arranged. Would you like to come for a ride?"

Borges shifted his cane from his right to left hand and accepted the handshake from Haley. As he did his eyes scanned over the man who was well dressed, almost arrogantly so, but this was Borges general opinion of most foreigners.

"Ah, Mr. Haley. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Borges shifted his eyes from right to left making sure no one was paying them too much attention and then slipped into the back of the Audi.

Haley followed the man into the sedan's back seat and closed the door behind him. Immediately the driver shifted the car into first gear and pulled away from the curb. Haley pulled a briefcase from the floor in front of him, placed it in his lap, and began to speak.

"First of all, Mr Borges, let me remind you that my name is not Jack Haley, and that we never met. You were never in Spoletium, and certainly never had any contact with any representative of the Anselmian government. You are very fortunate your revolution is beginning now. The political winds in the country are blowing in your favor...In any case, the Directorate of Foreign Intelligence stands by ready to provide any assistance you ask of us in this undertaking. We can provide you with money, weapons, ammunition, even food if you need it. We know you do not believe in foreign intervention in your great nation, so we assume you will not request any Anselmian personnel join you in the HOB. However, we can provide you with DFI operatives or Special Operations soldiers if you so choose. How can we be of service?" Haley folded his hands over the briefcase and awaited his guest's response.

Borges smiled reassuringly at the man to his right. As Borges spoke trying to sooth Haley's worries,

"You really need not worry, I have no intention of returning to the House of Boothby while the monarchy is still in place, and once the rebellion has 'nullified' the Royal Family, there will be little if any retaliation to fear.

That being said, for such a glorious day to dawn in the HOB I do need you assistance. But first, let me explain to you how the mind of the Boothian people works:

For seven generations the Royal Family has been in power in the HOB, and we - the Church - have anointed them as divine. The citizens of the HOB recognize the Royal Family because the Church recognizes them, at least that is how it was in the beginning.

The people no longer question the right of the Family to power and do not doubt their divinity.

With the Royal Family out of the way the people will return to recognize who has really cared for them and who will continue to lead them...the Church.

Our strike must be exact, and it must be secret. We must eliminate Boothby and the rest of his immediate family, at least those with governmental posts. Then the Church will step into the void left by their deaths.

We require explosives, detonators, automatic weapons, and sniper rifles. We also need communications equipment that will not be picked up by HOB forces.

I am sure that as a fellow Christian nation you will see the necessity for ridding ourselves of these heretic rulers, and reestablish the Church to its once lofty position."

Haley was not a particularly religious man, as he knew most of the men in his government were not. But he also knew that those with a higher pay grade than he did not care who overthrew an NOP government or why, just that it happened. So while Haley himself thought the man sharing the backseat with him was a complete fanatic, he would still do everything in his power to help him succeed.

"The people of Anselmus fully support this endeavor of yours, Mr. Borges. We will give you anything you ask. Provide us with a list of everything you need, and you shall have it. Our one concern is logistics. How are we to smuggle the supplies into the country?"

The Anselmus government was cooperating quite well with Borges's plans and seemed to ask nothing in return. Of course, this would most likely resurface later, but such were all things politick.

"I have an agent heading back to the HOB now, Arrie Conzol. You may be familiar with his name? Anyways, he will be representing myself as I can for obvious reasons not be present.

For the delivery or the weapons and supplies, I think that an airdrop in the hitherlands east of the HOB would be best. I will arrange for Arrie to organize the pick up of said goods and he will move them back across the border into the HOB.

I will get you the list of what we require as soon as possible, how should I contact you in the future?"

Haley pulled a blank business card from inside his jacket and scribbled a telephone number on it.

"You can reach me at this number, and we shall meet at the hotel again once you have compiled your list."

The Audi then rolled to a stop, and Haley saw that they had returned to the Albergo.

"I believe this is where you are staying?"

Borges took the card and slipped it into the inner pocket of his blazer. With a nod he slipped out of the car and departed swiftly into the hotel. The list could not be completed until Arrie reached the HOB and contacted the Borges's affiliate, who had been selected to plan and execute the actual mission.


===========================================

Several days later Borges was telephoned by Arrie.

"Hello Borges my friend, I am back inside the HOB."

"I am glad to hear that Arrie, is this line secure?"

"Yes, I am calling from my old office at the National Convocation Headquarters."

"Any trouble with the authorities?"

"They brought me in for questioning when I passed through immigration, but as you said they had nothing to hold me with. I told them I had feared for my life and fled after Carlos's death. I don't think they believed me for a second, but nor could they disprove my claim."

"Did you deliver my speech to the National Convocation?"

"I did indeed."

"And, what was the response to my proposal?"

"Hand to say, you know how most of our members are... they refuse to act until an action is taken for them."

Borges paused to smile at this comment, "Yes my friend they do hesitate, but we shall not. I have made my contact on this end. Have you met with our agent yet in the HOB?"

"Yes Borges, he has supplied me with the materials he will require, and a quote of course for his payment."

"Let me have it then."

Arrie proceeded to detail those items that their agent required for his plot. Borges took careful note of each. Once the call had ended Borges phoned Haley with news that his list had been finalized and was ready to be handed over to him.

It was precisely noon the next day when the same Audi rolled to a halt in front of the Albergo Spoletium. The driver got out of the car and stood on the curb by the right rear door, as if waiting for someone to come out of the hotel.

From his window Borges saw the car approach and pull up to the curb. Gathering a folder he descended the five floors to the lobby and exited the hotel. Finding the car door open Borges checked over his shoulder before entering the vehicle.

[Bump]

OOC: My bad. For some reason I didn't realize you had replied already.

IC:

Haley was waiting for Borges as he entered the vehicle.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Borges. I hope I find you well? What do you have for me?"

"Yes, thank you I am quite well and enjoying Spoletium, although I must admit I have not left my hotel save for the most necessary of errands."

Borges handed Haley the folder he carried. Inside was a type written list of equipment Borges's agent had required:

===============
M416 x 100
M240B x 10
M110 x 20
M82A3 x 10
M45 x 100
C4 = 10kg
Electronic detonators x 10
Blasting caps x 20
NV googles x 100
Tear gas (grenade) x 200
HE grenade x 100
Multi-scan radio x 20
Razor wire (100m) x 50
Anti tank mine x 100
Anti personnel x 200
Emergency generators x 10
Diesel fuel
===============

"I hope that all this can be arranged, in some cases, such as fuel, I believe that hard currency may be a better solution given transportation logistics."

Haley opened the folder and scanned quickly down the list. Upon reaching the bottom, he gave a low whistle.

"You drive a hard bargain, my friend. The explosives, wire, generators, and night-vision equipment should not be a problem, but I'm sure my government will have concern over the firearms. It is not the quantity that bothers me by no means. Rather, it is the quality. The weapons you have listed here are the top-notch weapons used by our military on the front line. The M416, M110, and the M45 are used by no other Atlantican nation that we know of. As such, they will most likely be easily traceable. We would like to avoid outright conflict with the HOB and NOP. In addition, not even the Emperor knows of this operation. I don't think it would be even possible to draw such numbers, though small, from the government arsenals. That having been said, we can still offer you firearms. We have plenty of M16's, of the A1 and A2 varieties available. These will be made untraceable. We have M1911's. We can meet your demands for the M240 and the M82, though maybe in older models. What do you say?"

"I of course understand you desire to keep Anselmus's participation undetectable. Adequately comparable variants should not be a problem. Do you know approximately how long it would take to acquire these supplies? When can I tell my men in HOB to expect delivery?"

"It would take a matter of days. The Directorate keeps stockpiles of equipment discarded by the Anselmian Armed Forces specifically for this purpose. Tell me, how do you plan to get the equipment into your nation?"

"The eastern border of the House of Boothby is both wild and immense. Without a neighbor and few settlements along her eastern bound, there is not a watchful eye on many of the mountain passes that lead into the HOB. If you can deliver the supplies to the east undetected, we should be able to transport them in without incident.

Why? do you have concerns over this?"

OOC: Assuming we're still using the EA map.

IC:

"All that lies between Anselmus and the HOB is NOP territory. No aircraft could cover that distance undetected. I have no concerns over how it enters the HOB, merely how it gets from here to there."

"A route from Anselmus to Torvque could be accomplished without passing over NOP airspace. From there a northern route could be made passing briefly of Norsikia (oily) and then back down into the unoccupied land between the HOB and Morgiland."

"Very well. Three days from now, an Anselmian Air Force C-130 will make a flight from a base in the north of the country to an airfield in southeastern Torvque, transiting through Calizorinstan and Binaria. There, the supplies will be transfered to a smaller civilian craft. Have your men set up an airstrip in the land outside of the HOB to the east. The Directorate will then use this civilian plane to ferry the supplies to your airstrip in as many trips as it takes."

The word was passed along to Arrie in the HOB, who directed their agent as to the delivery schedule. An airstrip was established in a small valley to the east of the HOB border. A small camp was established for storing the supplies while the assault was finalized. They then waited for the Anselmus delivery.


[ooc: if you are still interested in join the new NU region you are welcome, there is a new password, so TG if you want it]

The last flight from Anselmus (OOC: We border each other now, yay!) touched down on the remote landing strip. The pilot and a crew member, both from the Directorate, quickly and efficiently aided the rebels in unloading the final supplies. Without another word, the plane returned to the runway and took to the sky, heading back towards its origin.

The supplies were unloaded from the plane as both Bogesians and agents of Anselmus moved like ghosts in the night. There were small sheds that had been constructed for the storage of the arms, explosives, and other equipment. Into these structures the men deposited their delivery. When it was done the agents departed, tree branched and debris was scattered over the landing strip and sheds, and the area looked as if no one had ever been there.

===================
some days later

Johan Borges sat at the desk in the office of his suite in the Albergo Spoletium. He had just gotten off the telephone with Arrie Conzol, in Genevoria, HOB. If their plans progressed as they had been scripted the rule of the Royal Family could be gone within 72 hours.

Borges smiled to himself at the thought, soon he would topple a family that had ubiquitously ruled a nation for nearly a millennia and a half. This sent shivers down his spine.

He longed to be back in the HOB, the nation of his birth. He longed to return her to the former glory she had been, a nation that exalted the Authority and the Church.

The postwar years had modernized the HOB in ways that before had seemed unimaginable, but the price had been to high. The Church had lost political power as the Royal Family became disillusioned with the right and just war fought to push back the Corbournne and puppet Kabavian king.

That is how Borges knew the people would support him, a 'françoises,' like the rest of the general populous. They might not know it now, but they resented their ethnically norse rulers, who denied their religion of its due respect. Borges knew that when he led the rebellion, the others would follow.

And so with this knowledge he replaced the telephone, sipped his Campari, and looked out his window, west, towards his homeland.

[ooc: The following is a brief synopsis of the current events within the HOB, it is somewhat ooc]


Using forged documents Borgesian rebels establish arms manufacturing plants using Yanitarian technologies (sry Yanis). A small cheap Yanitarian rifle is their primary production, which serves to supplement the Anselmusian arms that were received prior.

The Week of Sunday the 11th of May.

Monday-

In the early hours of Monday morning a gun battle broke out near the Royal Palace in Nova Zembella. Palace guards were forced to retreat into the compound's interior. Within an hour thick smoke could be seen coming from the palace. Violence ended shortly after 8 AM that same morning, although the palace continued to burn for over a day.

The HOB 'Civil Reserve' was dispatched to major cities in an attempt to safe guard citizens and infrastructure. The response from the CR was 'bumbling' at best. CR troops report coming under fire in nearly every major city. CR troops could not gain access to Genevoria due to a heavily armed presence.

Tuesday-

Charles Clark assumes his role of the Monarch's proxy. Thomas Christopher Clark Boothby has not been seen or heard from since the attacks on the Royal Palace. Charles Clark orders the retrieval of all foreign nationals from the HOB.

Light fighting continues throughout the HOB.

Clark Recalls all HOB military deployed overseas. Additionally, Clark puts for statements requesting all foreign military vehicles stay out of HOB airspace, and domestic waters.

Wednesday-

All travel into the HOB is suspended. Foreign nationals may at this time only be evacuated via military escort.

Fighting has intensified as the HOB CR tries to retake Genevoria. The HOB CR is now being directed by the HOB Royal Ground Forces and Charles Clark has declared a state of emergency for the Island of Bellevue.

[ooc: If you have foreign nationals in the HOB beyond Wednesday they will be detained for questioning by the HOB RGF, and should be returned to their native countries.

Feel free to respond to these circumstances as you see fit, however at the moment I would like to keep things within a small time scale... IE: if you are planning an invasion that will take several weeks to stage please RP the immediate planning and leave the invasion for later--- Although I don't know why you would invade the HOB]

Thursday 15th May, 2008

The following message was delivered live by Charles Clark on all public television and radio stations in the HOB.

“My fellow citizens of the House of Boothby. I know that the last four days have been extremely trying for us all. By now you must know that an armed contingent, we believe to be Borgesian isolationalists, have been responsible for violent outbursts throughout many of our major cities.

Please believe me when I promise that this situation is being dealt with as swiftly and professionally as possible for your safety and the restoration of peace to our nation. Those who have committed and are responsible for these heinous crimes will not go unpunished.

It is in this pursuit that today, as proxy to Thomas Christopher Clark Boothby, I am invoking marshal law. General Roland Mattis will take supreme command the three branches of the HOB military as well as all civil peacekeeping force and judicial institution until this crisis has been brought under control.

General Mattis has asked me to relay the message that citizens should remain in their private residences. Roadblocks and patrols will be established for your safety, but please do stay off the roads and streets to allow General Mattis fulfill his duties.

For the sake of national security I cannot release additional information, but please rest assured that the situation is under control and that we will soon return to normalcy.

If you have any information on those responsible for these attacks please contact a government representative at the number displayed at the bottom of your screen.


Thank you.”

The camera man signaled that the broadcast was off air and Clark relax. His mind was racing, had he done the right thing declaring martial law when the HOB government hung in such a precarious position? Would he be able to regain control once the military brought the Borgasians under control –if they could? How long could he and his advisors keep putting off the questions about the where abouts of the Monarch and the rest of the Royal Family.

These thoughts brought Clark back to that fateful day. Monday had been grey and overcast, the temperature unseasonably cold. Even before Clark’s car had gotten to the ‘garden district’ of Nova Zembella, which housed the Royal Palace, he had been the thick black smoke rising into the dull skies.

As he was driven through the main gates of the palace the carnage from that morning was apparent. Bullet holes riddled the stones of the old walls; the gates had been pulled outwards and were still attached by a chain to a smoldering truck. The fires had been contained or extinguished but debris still smoked so that Clark had to cover his mouth and nose with his sleeve as he climbed out of the car and was escorted to the Monarch’s living quarters.

The fire damage was not bad in the hall leading to the living quarters, but the walls had been stained black with smoke and soot. The ancient stained glass windows were broken, tapestries ripped from their hangings, and pockmarks from the recent battle dotted the walls.

Clark was led through the salon and into the Monarch’s bedroom. The sight had been a sobering and dismal one. The Monarch’s body was set in a seat, slumped over resting on a desk. The plaster of the wall behind the body had been shredded by the countless rounds from the Borgasians’ rifles. Clark was told that their had been over 20 additional bodies in the bedroom and hallway – mostly guards and domestic staff – but their had already been removed…

The scene was the same in the rest of the Royal Family’s living quarters. The execution of the Monarch and his successors left Charles Clark, the Foreign Minister to the HOB, the proxy ruler of the House of Boothby.

Emperor Johann IV read the intelligence briefing before him incredulously. Anselmus's once-stable neighbor to the west had fallen into a state of chaos. What he was reading consisted largely of first-hand reports from a pair of Directorate operatives on the embassy staff who had remained behind in hiding in Nova Zembella after all other Anselmian personnel were recalled. The new heir apparent to the Boothbian throne, Charles Clark, clearly did not have control of the entire country, and the situation was spiraling even more rapidly out of control. If the HOB was to be saved, the time to act had arrived.

http://i196.photobucket.com/albums/aa56/jackofh3arts/crestsmall.jpg

From the Desk of
His Imperial Majesty Johann IV von Hohman
Holy Emperor of Anselmus


Charles,

With the goal of ensuring the stability of the rightful government of the House of Boothby, I would like to offer you any and all assistance you desire from the Holy Empire. As the saying goes, "united we stand, divided we fall."

God protect you,
Johann von Hohmann

Cabinet Room
Blair House
Brayton, Tolvan

All twenty-three members National Security Council (NSC) had assembled in the Cabinet Room to discuss the situation in the House of Boothby and decide on a proper course of action.

Prime Minister Hutchins was the first to speak. "Robert, is the evacuation complete?"

Foreign Minister Donovan looked up from his notes to respond to the question. "Yes sir. Our consulate staff was recalled and all snesitive information was destroyed our brought out. We've also located all Tolvanic nationals in HOB at the time of the travel advisory and the last group cleared HOB airspace two hours ago."

The Prime Minister considered this for a moment before turning to National Intelligence Director Moore. "Scott, just what is going on over there?"

Moore shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Sir, as you know our HUMINT sources in HOB are minimal at best and all NDI field agents were pulled out with the consulate staff. All we have to go is SIGINT and satellite passes. Apparently, there has been some sort of armed revolt by an unknown rebel group. The Royal Family has not been seen since the first outbreaks of violence. All travel in or out has been restricted and the HOB government isn't being very talkative."

Hutchins was visibly displeased by the answer but said nothing to Moore. "Admiral Church, your recommendations?"

Admiral Samuel Church, the Chairman of the Combined Staff, pointed to the video board on the room's far wall that was currently dominated by a map of the HOB with nearby Tolvanic units indicated in green. "As you can see we have no units in the immediate area. Our recommendation is to step up ELINT flights in the area considerably. The carrier Fearless is on station to provide tanker support to the RP-161Cs (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13474035&postcount=349) flying out of Willard AFB. The flights won't within fifty nautical miles of HOB airspace. Additionally, we recommend detaching the cruiser Doverton from convoy duty to patrol within 100 nautical miles of HOB waters. We won't learn much but it's better than nothing."

Hutchins scribbled a note on a nearby sheet of paper before looking up. "Then it's agreed? The Commonwealth takes no position on the internal affairs of the HOB, but we will monitor the situation."

Since there was no disagreement the meeting adjourned and the various NSC members set to wok making arrangements.

Snip

Meridian

Charles Clark and his cabinet had established their base of operations at the Meridian Naval Base several kilometers off the coast of Nova Zembella. Clark sat behind his desk in bunker A#2, going through intelligence reports from all over the HOB. One of his personal assistants brought in a sealed envelope, which Clark took, opened, and read Johann von Hohmann's message.

Clark had invoked martial law, temporarily relinquishing rule of the HOB to General Roland Mattis. Charles began to sweat as he reached for his intercom, and with a trembling hand pressed its talk button.

"Hello sir?" came the response from Clark's assistant.

"Call General Mattis's operation center and tell him I am having an encrypted message sent to him for his immediate review."

===================

Nova Zembella

General Roland Mattis had made his HQ in the undamaged Western Hall, of the Royal Palace. The fighting within the city had calmed substantially, and military patrols had locked down the major roads and public spaces. Recognizance teams were now going through the city neighborhood by neighborhood but had found little evidence of the Borgesian rebels' presence.

Mattis was now reviewing the message Clark had forwarded from Johann von Hohmann. The choice was hard for Mattis; on the one hand Mattis had found that the HOB's military and Civil Reserve had not responded with the requisite efficiency. Aid from a neighboring country could help secure the many small islands comprising the HOB. On the other hand, Mattis needed to also play the role of the politician, he knew that the citizens of the HOB needed solidarity. Allowing a foreign power's military into the nation might have disastrous repercussions, sending the already teetering Boothians over the edge and into total revolution.

He wrote to Johann von Hohmann:


Johann von Hohmann,
Your offer is both nobel and neighborly, and for that I thank you. At this time the situation in the HOB is stabilized and such aid will not be necessary. However, through intelligence we have gathered over the last few days there is an indication that those responsible for these violent outbursts may be moving between our two nations.

I would like to inform you that we will be increasing our military presence along our borders.

-Gen. Roland Mattis

Friday May 16th, 2008.

General Mattis ordered the mobilization of naval fleets into the Sea of Riechenbach, Straights of Mansk, North Boothian Sea, and Southern Boothian Sea.

Sea of Riechenbach
3 Frigates (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krivak_class_frigate)
2 Destroyers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kara_class_cruiser)
4 Surveillance craft (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Persistent_%28T-AGOS-6%29)

Straights of Mansk
2 Frigates (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krivak_class_frigate)
4 Surveillance craft (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USNS_Persistent_%28T-AGOS-6%29)

North Boothian Sea
1 Carrier (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_aircraft_carrier_Admiral_Kuznetsov)
2 Cruiser (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirov_class_battlecruiser)
5 Frigates (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krivak_class_frigate)
4 Destroyers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kara_class_cruiser)

Southern Boothian Sea
1 Carrier (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_aircraft_carrier_Admiral_Kuznetsov)
2 Cruiser (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirov_class_battlecruiser)
6 Frigates (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Krivak_class_frigate)
3 Destroyers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kara_class_cruiser)

A military regiment consisting of HOB RGF's Battalions G-12 (950 troops) and A-9 (450 troops) were sent to Mansk in southern HOB. Additionally Air Calvary Squadron AS-17 was deployed to the city. Thus far no open conflict has been reported in the area.

snip

North Boothian Sea - 40NM NNE of Verbier

The frigid waters churned beneath the CMS White Cloud as her deck crew took their pre-takeoff position. The engines of the two idling Northrop F-5's roared to life as the deck signaler gave the all clear signal with his wands. Airman First Class Conard engaged his throttle and his aircraft bolted off the carrier's deck and out across the water. Soon afterwards he was joined by his wing-man, Airman First Class Rogue.

The two pilots checked the vector on the Tolvanian RP-161C against their flight plan, then banked east wards the headed on their intercept course.

Imperial Palace, Spoletium

Johann scanned over Mattis's message quickly and called over an aid.

"I want you to send the following message in reply..."


Gen. Mattis,

Acknowledged. Keep us informed, and do not hesitate to call upon us for assistance should you require it. As for the insurgents, please contact the Directorate of Foreign Intelligence with further information so that we may cooperate in catching these bastards.

His Imperial Majesty Johann IV von Hohmann
Holy Emperor of Anselmus

North Boothian Sea - 60NM NNE of Verbier

The big RP-161C, call-sign Tango Four, had just completed its thiry-fifth circuit of the area. The plane was flying a massive oval and monitoring any and all transmissions coming out of the HOB. The plane lcaked a powerful search radar, it only had a small set intended for navigation more than anything else, but its crew was in constant contact with the orbiting E-2E AWACs bird, call-sign Watcher One.

Aboard the AWACs the small blips denoting the HOB aircraft were detected and tentatively IDed as light fighters of some sort, most likely F-5s since these were a known part of the HOB inventory. One of the AWACSs operators relayed the sighting to the recon plane's crew. The lumbering RP-161C had not weapons and certainly wasn't very agile, but the operators told them anyway. Meanwhile, another operator contacted the Fearless requested that a pair of fighters be sent to meet the HOB fighters, but given the carrier's distance it would take the F-194As (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13478529) nearly thirty minutes to reach the area.

North Boothian Sea

The two F-5's screeched over the North Sea's waters nearing their maximum speed of 1,700 km/h. The ETA was short being only 20 NM south of the RP-161C recon plane. Once visual contact was made with the comparatively lumbering beast the two fight pilots slide in behind it, reduced their speed, and trailed their intercept.

A1C Conard adjusted his radio to scan and broadcast his message on multiple channels:

"This is WC-NF-7 for the HOB RAS. Tolvan RP-161C over sector Bravo 6 You are flighting in restricted HOB air space. You are required to depart on a heading of 45 degrees east from your current position."

After the message was broadcast several times the fighters advanced flanking the RP-161C on both sides. They sat 30 yards off each wing matching their mark's airspeed and heading.

North Boothian Sea

Major Charles Burkes turned to his co-pilot as the HOB F-5s pulled alongside. "Who does this arrogant little shit think he's bossing about?"

The co-pilot merely shrugged as Burkes spoke into his mic. "This is Tolvanic Air Force aircraft Tango Four, we are in international airspace. Over."

Burkes altered course by 20 degrees to the east, he'd play along for now, at least until the Pandoras arrived.

FROM: The Office of Volunteer Controller

Mr. Clark,

After hearing the news that rebels have attempted an uprising in the most just nation of Boothby, our two corporate bodies have extended an offer of assistance towards your government. After pulling their people out of the JCC in your nation, they are eager to resume business interactions as soon as possible, and are willing to lend material support to the effect of resuming order in your nation.

Edward Welter
Volunteer Controller

North Boothian Sea

The Northrop pilots maintained their escort of the Tolvanic aircraft as it went into its 20 degree turn.

Conrad checked their new heading, which was still off the exit vectors his command on the CMS White Cloud had patched through to him.

Beings an Airman First Class, Conrad usually had ice water flowing through his veins, but he had to hesitate a moment to control the shake in his voice before proceeding:

"Tango Four, your heading is still requires a 25 degree adjustment. I repeat you are flying in HOB restricted airspace. Adjust your heading 25 degrees east of current vector... There will be no second warning, we have orders to engage if you do not comply."


North Boothian Sea - HOB Naval Detachment

Aboard the CMS White Cloud command control had just listened to the chatter between the aircraft. Conrad radioed in to report his message to the Tolvanic craft and to confirm his standing orders.

Capt. Husalious stood on the bridge of the CMS White Cloud and listened as his fighter pilot Conrad's report. Husalious confirmed the fighter pilots' orders and turned to his communications sergeant.

"Sergeant Henderson, relay the following message to Willard Air Force Base in Tolvan:

Tolvanic Air Force aircraft Tango Four flying in restricted HOB airspace, stop.

Recall Tango Four immediately on a heading 25 degrees east of current course, stop.

HOB fighter detachment standing by to safely escort Tango Four back to international airspace, stop."

Sgt. Henderson complied and the message to sent on to Willard AFB.

North Boothian Sea

Burkes didn't bother to respond, he'd done his job already. He baanked the big plane another 25 degrees, losing air speed in the process. The fighters weren't far away now.

snip

Edward Welter,

As proxy ruler in the Monarch's absence please allow me to extend both an official and personal thank you for your offer of assistance. At this time I have relinquished legal authority over the HOB to General Mattis and have declared martial law in effect.

That being said, please do not be alarmed. For all intents and purposed the terrorist group responsible has been traced and as I write to you normalcy is returning to the HOB.

General Mattis has ordered that no foreign personal, military or otherwise, will be permitted into the HOB until the situation is fully resolved. As to material aid, I am sure we should be able to arrange a convoy to retrieve said materials from your ports.

Again the House of Boothby thanks you.

-Charles Clark
Proxy in the Monarch's absence

===============================================

When Clark had sent the message to Gesford he stood and crossed his office to a bottle of port that stood on a side table. He filled a glass and lifted it by its stem, signed, and sipped. Clark was growing tired of the lies, and he was finding he had little stomach for the job of running - trying to run - a nation.

His 'voluntary' relinquishment of power to General Mattis had been the first blow, and although he deemed it appropriate, the general had left him with little choice.

Secondly, Clark was under strict orders from the general not to acknowledge anything regarding the former Monarch, least of all the fact that he was dead. This Clark had found exceedingly hard, but continued to stoically repeat his mantra of "I am the Monarch's proxy in his absence."

Third, Clark hated to deceive the international community about the violence within the HOB. According to General Mattis, all violence had ended, the terrorists on the retreat, and order restored. Nothing could be further from the truth...

The Borgesians were now estimated to hold the majority of the Island of Bellevue and all of Bern. They seemed to be operating out of Genevoria, but the fact of the matter was intel from the southern part of Bellevue was extremely slow and unreliable.

The Borgesians, after there initial assault on the Royal Palace had issued a statement to Clark and his cabinet demanding an immediate turn over of power, accompanied by the immediate expulsion of all foreign nationals.

Clark and Mattis had worked quickly, evacuating most foreigners in the HOB, both for their safety and also to blind other NU nations. The evacuation could not have happened sooner, shortly following it, Borgesian forces began assaults on major foreign businesses and infrastructure. Embassies, factories, stores, and houses with ties to foreign powers had been raised, and most stood in ruin.

Clark felt ever more that General Mattis was keeping him in the dark, and did not understand the man's aversion to foreign aid.

Clark crossed back to his desk with his drink, sat, his head in his hands and wept.

North Boothian Sea

The two fighters dropped back but continued to trail the Tolvanic aircraft as it headed east. Conrad wiped sweat from his brow as he glanced over at his wingman. The men would escort their 'guest' back into international airspace, which both pilots knew they were already in, and then return to the CMS White Cloud if all went smoothly.

Offical Message from the Aissurian Foreign Affairs Department.

Regarding Material Aid.





The Aissurian Foreign Affairs Deparment would like to inquire on the possibility of the sending of Aid to The House of Boothby. We have watched the events in your Nation and have remebered the time you have helped us in the past. With your permission, we would like to send any aid required to your Nation. Thank you.





(Message end)

To: The Aissurian Foreign Affairs Deparment
Subj: Re: Material Aid

Indeed it is in times like these that one finds out who his true friends are. I thank you for your offer of material aid. While the situation in the HOB has been stabilized, our troops are still hard at work insuring that such an event does not occur again.

We would gladly accept aid from our friend Aissur in the form of:

Diesel fuel
Oil
Construction material

We will arrange for the pickup and transport of these materials from Aissur to the HOB at your convenience.

I hope that we can count on your friendship in the future, as I fear the 'hounds of war' have been released. I do not think I need to ask for your vow of secrecy in this matter, as I am sure you can appreciate its gravity. Show we require military aid to defend our sovereign nation for outside forces may I call upon you for support?

Sincerely,
General Roland Mattis.

snip

To: Directorate of Foreign Intelligence
Subj: Investigation

After communicating with His Imperial Majesty Johann IV von Hohmann, I am contacting you to request a formal investigation be opened with regard to movement of members of the Borgesian terrorist group between our two nations.

We have reason to believe that members of this group have been passing between our countries near Mansk, and that some of their members may indeed be hiding within Anselmus.

I have been assured by your Emperor of your full compliance and request you devote all available resources to this investigation.

Thank you.

-General Roland Mattis
HOB Royal Ground Forces

North Boothian Sea

The two Tolvanic F-194As, call-sign Saber Two and Saber Four, finally arrived on the scene after nearly twenty-five minutes. The Pandoras appraoched the two HOB F-5s from the rear, at a range of twelve nautical miles Saber Four activated its APG-127 ASA radar and lit both HOB fighters up. However, the pilot made sure to keep his targeting radar off so as to avoid the F-5's ESM gear from registering a lock on.

The pilot of Saber Two, Lt. Bradley Walker, activated his radio and addressed the HOB pilots. "This is Tolvanic Fleet Air Arm fighter Saver Two to Boothbyian fighters WC-NF-7. You are to break formation with Tolvanic Air Force recon plane Tango Four and return to HOB airspace immediately. We will take over escort of Tango Four. How do you copy? Over."

North Boothian Sea

Conrad's instincts and training kicked in as the crackle of the Tolvanic fighter's radio came through. The two HOB F-5's did not respond but held their course trailing the RP-161C. About 45 seconds had gone by since Saber Two's message when Conrad gave the order; instantly his wingman, Rogue, peeled off banking hard down and to his right, making a new heading south southeast. Conrad increased his airspeed coming closer in behind the RP-161C. Still he gave no radio acknowledgment to the Tolvanic fighters on his six.

snip

TO: Gen. Roland Mattis
FROM: David Pevensie

We have already received word from the Imperial Palace concerning this investigation. SIGINT intercepts suggest one or more persons connected with your insurgency are indeed located within our nation, specifically in Spoletium. The investigation will continue, and you will be kept abreast of its progress.

-D. Pevensie
Director of Foreign Intelligence

North Boothian Sea

"Let him go, AWACs will keep an eye on him. Over."

Walker's wingmen, Lt. (j.g.) Peter Stewart, triggered his mic to respond. "Roger that."

Walker couldn't help but exactly what the HOB pilots were hoping to accomplish. Their planes were badly outclassed and now the one Walker assumed to be the wingman had bugged, leaving the leader alone with Tolvanic fighter sitting sqaurely on his six, if the pilot so much as cast a ugly look at the RP-161, he'd be dead before he heard the lock on tones.

North Boothian Sea

Rogue peeled his F-5 away from the convoy; the Tolvanic fighters had not broken their formation. As his plane diverted from the convoy's flight path he checked his airspeed and attempted to bring his Northrop in behind the Pandoras.

Conrad continued to close distance between himself and the RP-161C.

North Boothian Sea

Walker and Stewart both watched the second F-5 attempt to roll in behind them. Walker shook his head with disdain, apparently they didn't know they were being watched by the AWACS bird orbiting nearly 100 nautical miles away.

"Stewie, wanna go old school and pull the Shake and Bake on these clowns?"

Stewart grinned, Walker always had a flair for the dramatic. "On your count boss." Stewart turned to his WSO and warned him. "This is gonna be bumpy."

Wlker began counting down. "Five, four, three, two, one, mark!"

At that each fighter went into a hard bank, Walker to the left and Stewart to the right, and increased airspeed. Moments later the fighters were making two large circles and both would have the trailing F-5 within their kill zones in seconds.

North Boothian Sea

Rogue continued his sweep back to the original flight path, even after the Tolvanic fighters had begun circling. He brought his F-5 in behind Conrad's who was now precariously close to the RP-161C.

Conrad switched back on his mic and broadcast to the Tolvanic craft:

"Tango 2, Saber 2, Saber 4, you are now clear of restricted HOB airspace. Try not to get lost again kids."

First Rogue, then Conrad reduced airspeed and prepared to bank off from the convoy back towards the CMS White Cloud.

Meridian Naval Base, HOB

Charles Clark sat at the end of his bed, and cast his darkly ringed eyes around his windowless room. Life underground did not suit Charles, who had always been an avid outdoorsman, and his heart pleaded with him to leave his bunker in Meridian. Alas he knew it could not be so.

Clark was under direct orders from General Mattis to stay safe guarded in the island stronghold that was the Meridian Naval Base. At first Clark had been reluctant, but had agreed, with the welfare of the HOB foremost in his mind. Now, the former Minister of Foreign Affairs was having serious doubts about his General.

At first Clark had received almost hourly updates on the inroads Mattis and his men were making against the Borgesians. Quickly the reports became less frequent, until Clark was receiving only one a day. Nearly two weeks into the uprising and Clark had not received word from Mattis in over two days.

Guards had been posted outside Clark's quarters, apparently 'for his own safety', but Charles was beginning to feel more and more like a prisoner then the ruler of the HOB.

The crestfallen man slowly ran a hand over his thinning hair, smoothing it, and trying relieve the tension that had been brooding in him all day.

Just what the hell was Mattis up to? Obviously he is taking his 'martial law' too far.

Clark had heard rumors within the base that Mattis and his men had fought through to the S.T.A.R. base near the southwest city of Montreux. The rumors went on, apparently Mattis was reviewing the HOB's warhead stockade and launch protocols.

Has he totally snapped, or are these rumors just idle gossip amongst the ranks, maybe even propaganda from the Borgesians?

Earlier that morning Clark had decided he could not sit by any long. Insane or not General Mattis should still be consulting with Charles. That is why he had drafted the following message to Yanitaria's Frederick Norheim:

------------------------------
Your Majesty Frederick Norheim,

It is with the utmost urgency with which I write you, and it is to your endless sense of honor, fraternity, and loyalty that I must appeal.

Doubtless you have received news of the tragic and heartless acts committed by a terrorist group headed by the former Bishop of Bellevue, Johan Borges. What I tell you now is know to a very few, and I would wager to say by nobody outside the HOB. That being; Thomas Christopher Clark Boothby is dead. He and the rest of the Royal Family were brutally slain in the preliminary attack by the Borgesians.

It is I, Charles Clark, to whom the role of ruler fell after Thomas's tragic death, and I now write to you out of my concern for my beloved nation.

I have all but been striped of any power, and General Roland Mattis has taken control of the three branches of the HOB military. He is -last I heard- fighting a loosing battle against the Borgesians. Furthermore, I have it from his own lips that he believes the Borgesians to be receiving aid from a foreign nation. I warn you, General Mattis is on the brink, he is a tried and weary man, but this makes him only more apt to lash out at those he suspects.

I would not see my nation fall into either an internal or international war. But, I fear that is the course down which we are heading, and perhaps are already on.

I urge you, Frederick Norheim, for the sake of your kindred blood and the ties of brotherhood that unite our two nations and people, do not forget The House of Boothby in its time of need.

I now come to the truth of the matter. I cannot stay in the HOB and help her at the same time. I would defect to Yanitaria, there are still some loyal to me here that would aid me in this task, and from Yanitaria I would strive till my last breath to free my people from war and injustice.

I again humbly beseech thee, brother, Norheim, aid me and the House of Boothby in our time of need.

Your friend, brother, and comrade,
Charles Halsie Clark
------------------------------------

It was a warm spring night in the southern port city of Tarentum, and Jack Haley, formerly of the Anselmian Directorate of Foreign Intelligence, was enjoying every moment of it. In the aftermath of his clandestine support of the Borgesian uprising, Haley and his comrades had received large sums of money from an unknown source with the request to resign from the DFI and simply disappear. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Haley did so with pleasure. He bought a beach house outside of Tarentum and a Jaguar XK8 convertible to go along with it. It was on the deck of this beach house that he stood now, looking out to the sea and nursing a glass of the Boothbian gin, le Sang du Pelican, his favorite. Haley chuckled at the irony of his choice of beverage. Who knew if it would even be available any longer after what he had helped set in motion? The dulcet tones of Puccini's Turandot wafted from his sitting room out the open screen door. Closing his eyes and concentrating on "Nessun dorma," Haley did not hear a car pass by outside on the street.

A black Chevy Tahoe rolled to a stop one block away and across the street from Haley's new home. Four men, dressed in black fatigues and balaclavas and wearing drop-down holsters exited the vehicle and made their way, crouched and silent, to Haley's front steps. While one man stopped at the base of the steps and looked around to see if anyone else was about in the neighborhood, the other three quickly took their places at the doorway. One man dropped to one knee to pick the lock, while the other two drew their handguns, both silenced FN Five-seveNs.

The lock defeated, the two men who already had their weapons drawn moved cautiously into the house, pistols raised and ready. The lockpicker and the lookout both drew their sidearms and followed the first pair into the house. A quick sweep of the ground floor produced no sign of Haley, save for the Italian opera emanating from the Bowers & Wilkins speakers in the sitting room. One of the men approached the stairs to the second floor as another looked out on to the deck. Haley was still there, unaware of the presence of intruders. Spotting their mark, the operative kept his handgun trained on Haley's back as he slowly slid open the screen door. Not slowly enough. Hearing a noise, Haley whirled around to find the black-clad man standing there, calmly aiming the weapon at Haley's forehead. Far from being surprise, Haley's first thought was that the man carried a Five-seveN, a common choice among Directorate black ops operatives. The thought was more or less his last. The man spoke.

"This is how the Directorate takes care of its own."

He squeezed the FN's trigger. One shot was all it took.
-----------------------------------------
ENCRYPTED COMMUNIQUE

TO: Gen. Roland Mattis
FROM: D. Pevensie
Re: Investigation

General-

A thorough investigation has provided some of the answers which you have been seeking. A follow-up on the previously mentioned SIGINT resulted in locating an individual responsible for supplying a portion of the weapons used in your insurgency. The man, I am sorry to admit, was a rogue agent of this Directorate, who appears to have given weapons from the Directorate's stock to the insurgents, and was handsomely compensated for his efforts. We are still working on the identity of his contact in Anselmus, and the origin of the money. He, however, has been delt with.

-D. Pevensie

snip

[OOC: cool, I won't mind if you tracked down Borges, but please don't kill/capture him. If you want him to leave I will RP him escaping to somewhere else.]

S.T.A.R. Facility, Montreux, HOB

Roland Mattis looked like a man much tried and in need of a nights rest. But, rest would not come for several hours still. The day's trip from their camp southeast of Concord had been a stressful one. Their convoy had encountered an armed resistance outside of Montreux, and had spent the better part of the day exchanging small arms fire in the suburbs before they were able to break through to the S.T.A.R. compound, which owning to its permanently stationed brigade, had been able to hold off the Borgesians.

Now Mattis stood at the head of an immense oak table, his hands clenched into fists with which he supported himself as he lend over the Anselmusian communique.

"Back stabbing mongrels...," Mattis muttered to himself. Still, everyone in the room heard him, but pretended they didn't. "If Anselmus cannot control what is going on within their borders, God damn it I will..."

The General's bloodshot eyes scanned over the map that was spread on the table before him. It showed the positions of his troops, as well as those of known Borgesian forces. His eyes came to rest on his troops garrisoned in Mansk.

He crumpled the communique in his hand and then whirling around from the table, grabbing the closest of his aids.

"Francis, deal with this, I suppose those Anselmus dogs want their bone now."

Francis took the crumpled document and smoothing it, retreated to his desk and scripted the following reply:

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

Encryption: High
To: Pevensie, D
Subj:Re:Re: Investigation

It is a sad reality that such people exist, who would for mere profit and luxury, bring suffering to a friendly neighbor. On behalf of the House of Boothby, I thank you for your speedy efforts and inroads with your investigation.

Please keep me abreast of any new developments and do not hesitate to ask for any aid which I can afford you in these inquiries.

-Gen. Roland Mattis

Carrier Battle Group Two
North Boothian Sea

The two Pandoras had returned to the carrier 45 minutes after the incident with the HOB F-5s while the big RP-161C had taken another five hours to reach Willard AFB. The crews of all three planes, as well as the AWACS crew would be debriefed and back on duty within hours. For now the Commonwealth wouldn't respond, but all options were being kept open.

North Boothian Sea

The two F-5's had returned to the CMS White Cloud. In debriefing both pilots used the same language they had been instructed with:

"We intercepted the RP-161C call sign 'Tango Two' approximately 60 nautical miles north northeast of Verbier flying within the designated HOB 'No Fly Zone.' Upon visual contact with 'Tango Two' we attempted to instruct the Tolvanic pilot to exit the NFZ by a new easterly heading.

Once 'Tango Two' had made these adjustments, we went into a typical escort formation and proceeded on our course for approximately 25 minutes. At this time two F-194A 'Pandoras', call signs 'Saber two and Saber four, entered the NFZ and took an aggressive stance on our six.

They hailed us on radio and ordered us to "break formation and return to HOB airspace."

We continued our course until clear of the NFZ and then turned over escort of the RP-161C to Saber two and four."


While the airmen were debriefing, the fleet had already begun a eastern sweep and had new orders to make course for Nosoria.

OOC: Yeah, go for it. I'll RP accordingly.

05/21/2008 Mansk - HOB/Anselmus Border

Tempestuous clouds had been building on the eastern horizon since noon, perhaps an allusion to deeds that would take place that night...

As night was over taking the western reaches of Anselmus, only a few miles away platoon 113 of G-12 Battalion had slipped into six hard bottomed zodiacs and quietly slipped into the darkening sea.

2nd Lieutenant Winthrop LeMont lay low at the stern of the lead craft as they skimmed over the white caps. Then sun would soon pass away behind the western horizon, leaving them in the true darkness that can only be found in the open ocean.

LeMont ran through the briefing in his head one last time, apprehension brooding in the pit of his stomach.

The 113 would make landfall on the small island south of Ianitarium. The beach they were heading for was supposed to be sandy, with little slope, and light waves. High tide was in 45 minutes and coincided approximately with their ETA.

Once landfall was made, the 113 would proceed inland about 3 'clicks' south southwest to their objective. From the satellite photos the analysis team had concluded there were 5 covered buildings in an area around 100x100 meters. Intel on exact function of the buildings was nil, but the area was believed to be unused by the Anselmus government and any know private land owner. The General and his staff suspected that the buildings might be serving as a jumping off point for Borgesian weapons shipments.

Once at their objective, the primary objective would be to observe and gather intel on any activity in the area. LeMont had been briefed on a secondary objective, which was to engage any persons known or believed to be involved in gun running for the Borgesians.

The 113 would also be supported by the Air Cav's AS-17 squadron. Two Comanche helicopters were standing by and would aid with reconnaissance and search as LeMont saw fit.

LeMont snapped back to the present as the small landing craft burst over the crest of a white cap sending salty spray over her crew. The lieutenant checked his chronometer - ETA approximatly 25 minutes - and then pulled himself down further into the boat and away from the icy splashes of the waves.

Marianian Sea, SW of Mansk, Anselmus

Commander Paul Nichol stood on the bridge of the Henry Jones-class (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arleigh_Burke_Class) destroyer HIMS Samuel Courtauld as it knifed through the same waves that tossed about LeMont and his men like driftwood. Staring pensively through the window, Nichol reflected on his mission. In the wake of General Mattis's announcement to the Anselmian government that the Boothbian military would be building up on Anselmus's borders and Mattis's request that Anselmus help in locating insurgents within her territory, the Ministry of Defense ordered heightened mobilization and readiness in addition to frequent armed patrols conducted by the Imperial Navy, Army, and Air Force, in the island provinces of Mariana and Venetia. The Courtauld, one of a handful of Imperial Navy ships based at Naval Station Caralum, was such a patrol. In response to suspicions that insurgents could easily travel freely between Anselmus and the House of Boothby in small boats, destroyers based at the naval stations at Caralum and Venetium were dispatched to patrol Anselmian territorial waters in search of seafaring insurgents, especially at night. In two days of patrolling, Nichol and his crew had come up empty-handed. And it didn't look like that was about to change.

OOC: The destroyer would be close to you, but feel free to simply acknowledge its presence and sneak by if you want. This was mainly to elaborate on Anselmian readiness in your AO.

Marianian Sea, SW of Mansk, Anselmus

The hulking form of the HIMS Samuel Courtauld rolled on the dark sea, its silhouette hard and imposing against the night sky. LeMont and the other men of the 113 watched as they passed her, about 100 yards off their port side.

Laying low against the inflatable sides of the Zodiacs, the men and their vessels would barely be visible in the tussled waters. Soon they had made their way past the Courtauld and once again were bouncing full throttle towards their objective.

The island first presented itself as a sliver on the horizon, just slightly darker then the stormy sky. The sliver of land grew until major landmarks would be gleamed LeMont has he peered through a night vision scope. As their crafts drew nearer the beach the sound of crashing waves could be heard.

Wet boots splashed through the surf and up a sandy beach, the only sound the light scrapping of the boats' hulls being dragged over the shore. LeMont and his platoon leaders squatted near his Zodiac as the rest of the men fanned out establishing a perimeter.

The 113 would split into three fire teams. FT-3 would remain on the beach with the boats in reserve. FT-1 & 2 would proceed inland until contact was made with the objective. FT-1 would remain on the north side of the compound while FT-2 circled its perimeter under FT-1 cover. LeMont would command FT-1, Lt. 2nd class Hautard would command FT-2, and Lt. 2nd class Monroe would lead FT-3.

It was thus that 12 HOB Royal Ground Forcemen found themselves slinking over the Anselmus countryside in the dead of night.

05/20/2008 Nosoria

The naval group from the North Boothian Sea arrived in Nosoria under fair skies. The majority ships of the group had taken a southern route and were holding near the bottom of the island. A patrol boat had split from the group and had started a clockwise course around Nosoria.

The main fleet idled as troops from Interlocken where being ferried over, only one battalion to begin with, some 1,050 Royal Ground Forcemen in total. The battalion, consisted of 6 companies, 2 of which were engineering and support. These companies, designated ES-1 & 2 were tasked with making ready for the subsequent arrival of two mobile artillery batteries.

Additionally, shipments of fuel and munitions were being sent to Fort Lestate, a HOB naval base on the southeastern coast of Nosoria.

OOC: I suppose I might as well find you, or nothing will actually happen, eh?

Chief Warrant Officer Marcel Roissy fought to keep the UH-60 Blackhawk steady in the increasing wind on the leading edge of the storm. He and his crew, part of the 2nd Squadron, 201st Patavium Light Horse, were conducting aerial reconnaissance over the small island of Lutra (the island which the Boothbians are on) when the storm finally reached its shores. Roissy was now hightailing it back to Camp Tecate, his squadron's home base on the larger island of Brixton, to the southwest. Lutra itself had no permanent military garrison, but a company of the 11th Imperial Marine Infantry Regt. had recently set up shop as island security in the center of the island. As the Marines had no aviation element of their own, it was the charge of the 201st to provide the eyes from above. But not in this weather.

The Blackhawk was clawing through the air at 100 knots at an altitude of 700 feet over Lutra's shore when Roissy heard the call of one of the crewmen over the intercom.

"Chief! I've got something! Down on the beach, 10 o'clock! Looks like a bunch of boats!"

The soldier who cried out trained his M240 machine gun on the beached crafts as Roissy slowed the helicopter down and proceeded to orbit the site while losing altitude. Sure enough, boats they were.

"Citadel, this is Sentry Four. We have a group of boats at my coordinates on the northeastern shore of Lutra. They are of unidentified origin. I don't see anyone do--Wait! There are men down there! Only a handful, though. But there are...six, repeat, six boats. Looks like they've already sneaked inland. Orders, over?"

"Sentry Four, what type of boats are they?"

"Look like Zodiacs, Citadel."

"Roger that, Sentry Four. What's your fuel status?"

"I am two minutes shy of bingo, Citadel. Can't stay here much longer."

"Copy, Sentry Four. I've already notified the Marines. They're headed your way, ETA, 10 minutes. Go ahead and return to base."

"Wilco. Sentry Four's headed home."

With that, the Blackhawk exited its orbit to the southwest. Within only a couple minutes, the crew was able to see a trio of LAV-25s charging down a dirt road towards the beach, accompanied by two Panther CLVs.

Fire Team 3, composed of eight groundsmen, had setup in a cluster near their beached Zodiacs under the command of Lt. 2nd class Monroe. The wind and rain lashed at their faces as they scanned the inland with night vision scopes.

So far everything were going uneventfully. At first, Monroe thought his ears were playing tricks on him. But then over the howl of the wind the faint 'whoosh' of a rotary blade was audible. Monroe hissed out for the men to "get down and don't move, chopper near our position."

Laying in the wet sand the Lieutenant trained his scope skyward. In the inclement weather he could see little but swirling spray and racing clouds. Then he caught a glimpse of the UH-60, just as she was heading southwest.

Shit, thought the Lt., but there was little time for panic or fear. His instincts and training were kicking in and he grabbed for his radio:

"Fire Teams 1 and 2, this is FT3, we just got buzzed by an chopper of unknown origins... sounded like she was sitting right on top of us... position most likely compromised. Chopper last seen heading on a southwesterly course."

The response was somewhat delayed:

"This is FT1, roger that. Mission is abort. FT3, you will pilot craft from your current position 3 clicks north, where we will make rendezvous."

"Roger that," replied Monroe. Then he and his men began dragging the boats back into the frigid surf.

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

"Fuck this," Senior Lieutenant Jack Smith cursed under his breath. "If those guys on the beach saw our bird, they're gonna get the hell outta Dodge. Sarge, I want you to floor this puppy. We've got to get eyes on now. Everyone else can catch up."

"Aye aye, L.T."

The lead Panther CLV, carrying four soldiers and an automated weapons turret, jumped forward, flying down the road towards the bogeys' last position.

"Charlie 1-1 to all units. I am proceeding ahead of the convoy to get eyes on possible hostiles. Charlie 1-2, follow my lead."

"Wilco, sir," came the reply.

The second Panther, carrying an identical load, fell in behind the lead vehicle in its break-neck charge towards the shore. The two vehicles finally emerged from the forest only a minute or two later at the beach within yards of the beached Zodiacs, where the Boothbians where attempting to get their boats into the savage sea.

The PROTECTOR Lite weapons systems swiveled to track the Boothbians as the two Panthers approached, halting 50 yards away. Smith and his fellow Marines jumped out of the vehicles, taking cover positions behind the vehicle. Crouched behind the front passenger's door, HK416 trained on the nearest unknown target, Smith attempted to hail the men over the din of the storm.

"Stop where you are! Imperial Marines! Drop your weapons and walk slowly towards me, hands raised where we can see 'em!"

He only hoped his message could be heard.

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

Fire Team 3 must have looked something like a deer caught in the headlights as the Anselmus Marines rolled onto the beach and ordered their surrender. In that instant Monroe tried to take in and evaluate the situation.

Half his men were up to their knees in water, the other half on the beach dragging in the remaining boats. Their appeared to only be one Anselmusian vehicle, Monroe could not tell how many crewed her, but she had a very big gun.

Ok, play it cool, He thought to himself, You ran a ground in the storm, nothing wrong with that... honest mistake that happened during a normal exercise.

Monroe spoke quickly into his microphone, "FT1, FT1, this is FT3... Anselmusian patrol has made contact... lay low."

Then standing his ground Monroe raises his G3 rifle above his head and yelled back, "Lt 2nd Class Monroe from the HOB Mansk Garrison. Who's there? Where the hell are we?"

His men looked hesitant for a split second, but then followed suit, raising their weapons above their heads.

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

SLT Smith raised an eyebrow behind his Oakley M-Frames as he heard the man's reply. Boothbians, eh? And they don't know why they're here? The young officer then keyed his mic and spoke into his headset.

"Citadel, this is Charlie 1-1. The man who appears to be the leader of the unknowns has identified himself as one Lieutenant Second Class Monroe of the HOB Garrison at Mansk. He has a half-dozen men with him, but enough boats for three times that number. Recommend you check with Boothbian command on this one."

"Roger, acknowledged. We will check with the Boothbians. Meanwhile, secure these men and take them back to your camp, then hold them for transfer."

"Wilco. Charlie 1-1 out."

SLT Smith then called out once more to the men he now assumed were Boothbian.

"Ok, Lieutenant Monroe. We're going to have to detain you and your men until we verify who you are with your commanders. I need you to lay down your weapons, clasp your hands behind your heads, walk 20 yards and then kneel. We'll get you out of this storm once the backup gets here."

Well aware of the fact that his men outnumbered the Boothbians, likely highly-trained special forces, by only two, Smith silently prayed that the three LAV-25s with their 25mm cannons and twin M240 machine guns were nearly on the scene to add to the M240 already mounted on each Panther's PROTECTOR Lite weapons system.

"Charlie 1-3, this is Charlie 1-1. What's your ETA, over?"

"Charlie 1-1, ETA is two minutes, over."

"Roger that."

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

Monroe hoped his quick thinking had worked, and that the Anselmusian patrol had bought the story. However, doubtless there would be an official investigation. Still, cooperation could lead to a speedy return to the HOB.

Monroe unslung and tossed his M4 onto the sand at his feet. His men had picked up on the act and those on land followed suit, while the soldiers in the water started to drag their boats back on shore.

When Monroe had disarmed he began walking forwards, knelt down and folded his handed behind his head.

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

Lieutenant Smith was actually surprised the Boothbians began to comply with his request. However, he was still unsure of approaching the boatmen without a larger numerical advantage. He was about to ask the Boothbian officer to come over when the three LAVs burst through the tree line onto the beach. One pulled up next to the Panthers, its turret trained on the beached boats. The other two stopped short, and scanned the beach and edge of the forest. One soldier, wearing the rank insignia of a junior lieutenant, jumped out of the lead LAV-25 and jogged over to Smith, noting the surrendering Boothbians. Smith looked over to see his second-in-command approaching. JLT Villeneuve threw up a lazy salute and made his report.

"Hey, sir. I've got a pair of trucks following us from camp to take these guys back with us. They're about 15 minutes out."

Lutra, Mariana Province, Anselmus

Monroe watched the arrival of the Junior Lt. and strained to hear the words that passed between the Anselmusians, however, the conversation was drowned out by the hiss and spray of the breakers behind him. As Monroe's men began to take their positions kneeling behind him in the sand, the Lt. decided to try and continue the bluff;

"We need to contact HQ at the Mansk garrison ASAP. Doubtless they have search teams out looking for us, and I don't like the thought of them keeping the birds out in this weather."

Again Monroe waited for a response from the Anselmusian troops.

Your Majesty Frederick Norheim,

It is with the utmost urgency with which I write you, and it is to your endless sense of honor, fraternity, and loyalty that I must appeal.

Doubtless you have received news of the tragic and heartless acts committed by a terrorist group headed by the former Bishop of Bellevue, Johan Borges. What I tell you now is know to a very few, and I would wager to say by nobody outside the HOB. That being; Thomas Christopher Clark Boothby is dead. He and the rest of the Royal Family were brutally slain in the preliminary attack by the Borgesians.

It is I, Charles Clark, to whom the role of ruler fell after Thomas's tragic death, and I now write to you out of my concern for my beloved nation.

I have all but been striped of any power, and General Roland Mattis has taken control of the three branches of the HOB military. He is -last I heard- fighting a loosing battle against the Borgesians. Furthermore, I have it from his own lips that he believes the Borgesians to be receiving aid from a foreign nation. I warn you, General Mattis is on the brink, he is a tried and weary man, but this makes him only more apt to lash out at those he suspects.

I would not see my nation fall into either an internal or international war. But, I fear that is the course down which we are heading, and perhaps are already on.

I urge you, Frederick Norheim, for the sake of your kindred blood and the ties of brotherhood that unite our two nations and people, do not forget The House of Boothby in its time of need.

I now come to the truth of the matter. I cannot stay in the HOB and help her at the same time. I would defect to Yanitaria, there are still some loyal to me here that would aid me in this task, and from Yanitaria I would strive till my last breath to free my people from war and injustice.

I again humbly beseech thee, brother, Norheim, aid me and the House of Boothby in our time of need.

Your friend, brother, and comrade,
Charles Halsie Clark

Yanitaria City, Yanitaria

"I'd like a moment alone, please," the king asked of his aides and the Ministry of Intelligence courier who had picked up the suspect message. The letter was at least a week old, having been turned upside down to ensure it's authenticity. The people left as the monarch swiveled his chair so that his back was to the door, and read the letter again. It made sense, with the diplomatic withdrawal of HOB from the international stage, the intelligence reports that claimed there was heavy fighting.

When he thought of the former monarch of HOB, Thomas, dying, a man whom he considered a good friend and ally, tears started to roll down his suit. He immediately stopped himself, regained his composure, and reached for a tissue. He pressed a buzzer on his desk, and asked for the MoI courier to take an order. He stood up, and stepped over to the window, so that the underling would not be able to tell that he had been crying. He did not wait long, however. As soon as he was situated, the door opened.

"Give the director my order. 'Make it so.'"

HMS Nuit Foncée

The Voleur class nuclear attack submarine surfaced just enough so that the conning tower protruded above the waves. It took a second for the hatch to open, but as soon as it did, the team moved with extreme efficiency. Ten men exited the hatch, carrying with them three crates and a box. The crates had buoys attached to them, and were immediately thrown overboard, spooling a long ropes behind them until they can to a rest under the waves, where they would float for now.

The men then pulled the cord on the box, which started to inflate, and threw it into the water as well. Finally, the men, dressed in civilian clothing jumped into the water, just as the sub started to submerge. The box began to resemble a small life boat, and finally fleshed itself out so that the men could climb aboard. Keeping an eye on the buoys, they waited for almost an hour before their ride came in the form of a civilian catamaran, Operated by "Ocean Blue Boat Tours."

The boat pulled up next to them, and the captain called out, "it's a nice day to be ship wrecked, no?"

The men recognized the code, and the leader, Capitaine Richard Chaillet responded by saying "Only when the clouds become your friend." Satisfied, the captain of the boat threw a ladder over the side of the boat. With in minutes, the men were on board the boat, and a crew member was taking an outboard to pick up the crates. With in fifteen minutes, the catamaran left, leaving only the life boat as evidence. Perhaps a patrolling ship or civilian boat might find it, but it had been bought in Questers, and would not be traced back to Yanitaria.

Nova Zembella was quite a while away, and for three hours the men sat inside the boat waiting for the trip to end. The skipper was slightly unnerved by the fact that these men did not talk, barely moved, and sat up straight in their seats.

When the ship did arrive, they sailed into one of the more private docks, which allowed the ship to come inside the building. Although OBBT owned a large marina, there were three private docking facilities, which had access to a large warehouse that stored quite a bit more than parts. The doors to the dock closed, and the dock crew brought a gangplank out, so that the passengers and crew could exit. The crates, which where large and heavy were loaded onto a forklift, and brought into the warehouse. The passengers, members of the elite LEP unit, followed the skipper, who brought them into the basement of the warehouse.

There, an operations officer for the Ministry of Intelligence was just finishing up a message to Charles Clark.

----------------
Encrypted Communiqué
To: Charles Clark

A team is waiting to extract you from your current location. If you are able to leave freely, we will arrive via RHIB tonight. If not, please give us as much information on how to reach you as possible. Additionally, we would like to know exactly how many people will be accompanying you. Please respond as soon as possible.

Encrypted Communiqué
To: Charles Clark

A team is waiting to extract you from your current location. If you are able to leave freely, we will arrive via RHIB tonight. If not, please give us as much information on how to reach you as possible. Additionally, we would like to know exactly how many people will be accompanying you. Please respond as soon as possible.

TRIDENT Naval Base, HOB, 9:13 PM

Encrypted Communique
To: OBBT

Tonight. 21:45. Expect Clark and one additional. Will await extraction LAT: 38.89859, Long: -77.035971. There is an old boathouse with a concrete ramp, look for us there. No naval vessels scheduled in that area until 23:15. Ground forces minimal.

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

Colonel Ambrose Pastis walked briskly through the windowless halls of TRIDENT. Although it was not his usual habit Pastis wore his pressed dress uniform, complete with its compliment of metals he had earned in the Kabavian Wars. The uniform and metals looked out of place against the institutional green-grey walls of the naval base, however, it achieved it purpose in reminding all whom Pastis passed of his rank.

This subconscious reminder the Colonel had thought -and hoped- would help him in his task. Access to Charles Clark had been forbidden by General Mattis, but that was exactly who Pastis was now on his way to see.

The Colonel rounded the corner and saw the guard stationed outside Clark's "quarters." The guard looked like a good enough soldier, well built, cropped blonde-brown hair. As The Colonel stopped in front of the sentry he could read a slight look of surprise on the man's face.

After a hasty salute the man yammered, still recovering from the Colonel sudden appearance; "Colonel Pastis sir! How can I help you sir?"

Pastis knew there was no turning back now, and so plunging forward with his plan he replied; "At ease, message for Mr. Clark." And with that held up a computer print out that had been folded in two.

A pang of doubt shot across the sentry's face as he twisted his mouth trying to comprehend his now conflicting orders.

Pastis saw this and continued quickly before the guard could reply, "It's ok, the message is from General Mattis."

The sentry relaxed almost immediately at these words, then almost as an after thought he shuffled aside quickly and push open the door for the Colonel. Pastis step in nodding that the door was to be shut.

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

Charles Clark sat on his bed, his journal in his lap as he had taken to secretly writing on his imprisonment, his renewed sense of patriotism, and his vision of a liberated HOB. As he paused and was going to rise to look up a quote from the late General Herbert Neilson, the door opened. A moment of dread crossed Clark's heart as he thought for sure it must be Mattis, but then he saw it was is old friend and comrade from the Kabavian Wars, Ambrose Pastis, one of those still loyal to him and the old families of the HOB.

When the door was shut again the two men took one another by the hand.

"My friend, you should not have come, it is to dangerous for you...I am afraid you have tipped your hand and our game will be up."

Pastis smiled, "You have grown soft with age Clark. There was a time when you would have laughed at such a situation, but now, well... I can see I have not come a moment to soon, you look close to death."

Clark shook his head, "No friend not death, at least not a bodily dead. But my soul is drained, I find I cannot sit by day after day while my dear home and country cry out for justice."

"You may not have to wait much longer, look at this," with that Pastis produced the Yanitarian message from Clark, "It would seem your plea found friendly ears."

Clark read the message twice before replying, "I trust you authenticated its source?"

"If it was faked do you think either of us would be alive right now?"

"No....no, I expect not."

Pastis reached out and took back the paper, folded it and put it into his pocket. Then from within his jacket he produced a USP with a silencer attached and two additional clips.

"Charles, we must not delay longer, I have replied to the message for you and have made what arrangements I could, we must leave now."

Charles nodded as Ambrose rose from the table and crossed back to door. Pushing it open he motioned for the sentry to enter the room. The guard obeyed, stepping inside and then turning to Ambrose expecting an order.

Clark watched as Ambrose pulled the door shut and then leaned forwards towards the man. I looked as if the two were embracing, but the bulge of the sentry's eyes told Clark what had happened. An old trick Ambrose had picked up in Kabavia all those years ago.

The blade went in flat and found its way between the ribs of the sentry before he knew what was happening. Then it was too late, the steel shaft had entered his heart and with a flick of Ambrose's wrist was cutting through the vital vessels and nerves sustained the guard's life. When done correctly the trick produced little blood, and little sound, the man was dead almost instantly from the shock of it. Ambrose had been very good at the trick, and the years since the war had not dulled that skill.

Without thinking Clark was on his feet, and the two old comrades were out the door, walking briskly down the corridors of the naval base towards their freedom.

OBBT Dock:

Final preparations where being made, and the dock brimmed with activity. The LEP soldiers were cleaning their weapons, while those that had finished where putting their gear on, black wet suits, rebreathers, ammo vests, goggles, and a small pack filled with food. A small, curious machine was also loaded onto one of the boats, which resembled a small fan that ran on a rather large electric motor for it's size, with handles. This machine was used to propel swimmers at fast speeds through the water. While it was slow by boat standards, it proved invaluable for distances of more than a kilometer. Chaillet oversaw the preparation, his own equipment already at his side. For this mission he would use a subcompact AY-144C, but some of his squad mates had opted for the AY-20MC, while the designated marksmen had taken for their use a full sized, scoped AY-144. An ATMY-1M in a sealed plastic case was ready in one of the boats.

The loading of these weapons, the 6.5mm Yanit, was a very common round in Novus Universitas, and hopefully any investigation into their firing would point to the Borgesians, or to the military itself. That is, until Charles revealed that he was leading a new faction in this mysterious war.

At about 20:00 hours, the final preparations where made, and the men loaded up onto two rigid hull inflatable boats. There was still light in the sky, however, in the twilight hours it would still be harder to spot them than any other time. The doors of the dock house opened just enough for the first boat, running at it's most quiet speed, and headed in the direction of their contact.

The second boat waited fifteen minutes before heading in the same direction. As soon as they were half a kilometer out, they sped up, with the second boat following a good distance away. It did not take long to reach their destination, only 7km off the shore of Nova Zembella. The first boat found the dock house, and after a quick check to make sure the coast was clear, they dragged their boat inside, and pulled out a generic looking crate. The second boat stayed half a kilometer out, where the occupants had a second crate, which looked the same. Both crates where filled to the brim with foreign made limpet mines.

Both teams left four and three guards for their boats respectively, with the rest taking two limpet mines each, and as the sun finally started setting, they took to the waters, two from each team taking the motorized swimming device, while the rest swam under their own power, in order to place limpet mines on all the vessels available in the base. The charges were set for one hour and a half, or at approximately 22:00.

At 21:30 the job had finished, with the fuzes being adjusted for time. The divers swam back to their boats. By 21:45 when the colonel and Charles entered the boat house and were surprised to find the operatives already there. They were instructed to put on wet suits, and were given a brief lesson in using the rebreather. At 21:50, the rest of the divers had arrived, and the boat was dragged back into the water. Both boats sped off, but were not too far away to see the first explosions in the night sky. Even 10 minutes away from the base, they could hear the sound of sirens. Surely the smallest boats, which had been spared the mines would soon be on the prowl, unless they were held back to save their fellow sailors.

The LEP soldiers would not stick around to find out. It only took 20 minutes before the two boats reached the rendezvous point, a buoy with a small radio transmitter, tethered to an unseen lobster cage with a busted door. The submarine, hearing the two boats on it's passive sonar, it surfaced just as before, allowing the two boats to unload 13 men. Four LEP soldiers, volunteers, would stay in HOB in order to OBBT, and would likely be there until the government could find a way to retrieve them.

For now, Charles Clark was safe, and would be in Yanitaria soon.

Mobile Command Post 3 - 20 km SW of Nova Zembella


The grim faced general sat in darkness as an information officer, one Sgt. LeCroix, fumbled with the projector. After a moment LeCroix's fingers found the switch and the machine purred to life. As the image came into focus on the wall opposite General Mattis and his war cabinet, LeCroix cleared his through to begin his presentation.

"These satellite photos were taken yesterday sir, what you are looking at now is open water west of the TRIDENT Naval Base, at approximately 1100 hours. Right now there is nothing to see in this image other then water, indeed this area is not a high priority site for surveillance, it just so happens that the satellite's orbit took it over this region at the right time."

LeCroix went on, "When traversing such low priority regions, our satellites are programmed to take an image every five minutes. This is what was captured at 1105 hours."

LeCroix advanced to the next image, which at first glance was identical to the last. The information officer produced a laser pointer from his pocket and using it encircled an area on the photo several time.

"I would draw your attention to this gentlemen."

LeCroix had circled what looked like a small spot of discoloration on the ocean's surface. At this distance the spot was indistinguishable as anything important, but LeCroix quickly advanced the slide again. This time the image had been cropped around the discoloration, the resolution enhanced, and the image expanded. A blurry, black oval was apparent, around it were three smaller lighter colored squares. LeCroix continued,

"What you are looking at gentlemen is a life raft, or small inflatable boat. It appears to have come out of no where, as you can infer from the first image I have shown you."

At this point General Mattis cut in, his voice gravely and mocking, "from no where, I dare say it had to have come from somewhere?" Now his tone became demanding and accusatory, "I told you I wanted answers God damn it! What does this tell me? Nothing!"

LeCroix let the General bark at him and then continued, "Sir, if we assume that this vessel is connected with the disappearance of Clark, then it actually tells us a great deal. Firstly, the raft obviously did not appear out of thin air, but nor did it get to this location under its own power. Such a small raft could not have covered the distance indicated between the 1100 and 1105 images on its own.

The most typical method of deployment of such a craft would be from a larger vessel, helicopter, or possibly a submersible.

The first option seems unlikely as our other surveillance methods would have revealed the presence such a vessel. A helo deployment is a possibility but our air traffic control and military radar show no indication of unknown craft in the area. A submersible is also a possibility, and would be hard for us to detect if we were not already looking for it."

General Mattis had started to nod through LeCroix's explanation, and he let the man go on without interruption.

"In either of the two probably cases, a stealth helo or submersible deployment, it is unlikely that the Borgesians could have orchestrated such an operation. That is unless our intel. on their arsenal is extremely deficient.

It seems more likely, based on the evidence, that his deployment was conducted by one of our NU neighbors..."

Mattis continued to nod for a moment before snapping back to the present situation, and talking to himself murmured, "so Clark has defected..."

The General regained his composure and addressed the information officer further, "I don't suppose there is an indication would where the craft came from or where it went to?"

LeCroix replied, "unfortunately no sir. Only by the slightest chance did our satellite pick up this image of the craft's appearance, and unfortunately it's orbit took it out the raft out of view for the next picture at 1110."

The meeting adjourned, but Mattis remained in the room. He sat in darkness thinking over the implications of what they had learned. Defected, had Clark really gone that far. What would the exiled ruler's plans be now? To whom had he defected, and what were that nation's plans?

For now there was little Mattis could do about the situation with Clark. Of course the HOB agents in foreign nations would be notified, they might be able to learn something that way. However, the Borgesians would remain Mattis's focus, then once he had destroyed their resistance he would deal with Clark.

OOC: I didn't go too far with the explosions, did I? I didn't think you'd mind, since it was mostly coast guard patrol boats and small craft. I can retcon it if it bothers you. Also, if you want, you can definitely RP some spies in Yanitaria in what ever position you think would fit the story best.

An indeterminate time later, Fort Marx, Yanitaria:

It was very late. So much so that most of the LEP soldiers had to be woken up to escort Charles to his convoy. Waiting for him were three civilian SLT-31A's with the back tread replaced by wheels, and heavily tinted windows. One soldier said to Charles quickly before moving him into the vehicle that these were owned by King Norheim's security staff, and that there was a minibar set up for their enjoyment. However, as the generously appointed cars drove off, the LEP soldiers would not partake in any celebrating yet.

The converted military vehicles were obviously meant for the highest class of diplomatic guests, with leather, heated seats, a small TV, and a rather large minifridge containing an assortment of alcohols and sodas. There was even a cigar compartment that contained at least four different brands of cigars, with the lid having pouches attached for three packs of cigarettes and two pouches of tobacco, with quality rolling papers.

"Careful of the cigars on the left," warned Chaillet, one of the two soldiers riding with Charles Clark, "it's marijuana. We have about a forty minute drive until we reach the castle, so if you want, you can smoke pretty much anything here and be fine before we arrive. Once we do arrive, His Royal Highness King Norheim II will meet with you personally, along with a representative of the military, most likely from the Ministry of Defense, and a representative of the Ministry of Intelligence. They will ask you some questions, and then if you like, you both may either stay in the company of King Norheim, who is eager to entertain after the less than enjoyable conditions of the boat, or you may retire for the rest of the night. Although the sun will be up in the next few minutes."

Pausing, he turned the TV on, which was hooked to a large antenna on the roof, that picked up the state news channel, YNW. Currently a story about a new album protesting Questarian racism was being broadcasted, with a news ticker on the bottom of the screen displaying other important pieces of news from around the world. Chaillet extended the remote to Charles. "You may change the channel if you want."

Fort Marx, Yanitaria

The two HOB guests sat in the converted back of the SLT-31A as it headed towards through the Yanitarian countryside towards Norheim's castle. Both Clark and Pastis had forgone one of the handsomely stocked alcohols, opting instead for water. As the convoy sped down the road, Clark was briefed on his arrival at the castle. Half listening to Chaillet, Clark brooded on his escape, wondering what he would tell Norheim, and more importantly, what he would do about General Mattis.

Clark doubted that Yanitaria would willingly enter into a conflict on HOB soil. The relations and history between their two countries were to deep and interwoven. Still, Clark knew Norheim to be an honest and just man, which gave him hope.

As Clark mused on his upcoming meeting, Chaillet handed him the remote to the small television set. The Boothian accepted it and muted the volume, watching the ticker silently scroll by on the bottom of the screen.

Clearing his throat Clark look up at Chaillet,

"There has not yet been a proper opportunity to thank you and you team for your speedy and professional extraction. I do hope that your efforts and efficiency will be amply rewarded, and I will certainly tell Norheim that."

Pastis nod in agreement, being a hardened veteran of the Kabavian Wars the old man knew that Chaillet and his men were true professionals; "Damn fine, damn fine indeed."

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

Mobile Command Post 3 - 20 km SW of Nova Zembella

General Mattis had been brooding on the matter of Clark's extraction. Originally thinking that he would put the problem off until the Borgesians were brought under control, the thought had continued to nag at him. Mattis had spent a sleepless night at his desk, considering and reconsidering who could have been behind the actions.

It was now quite apparent that a foreign nation was involved, but also that part of the defection had been an inside job. Most likely Clark had been helped by one, Ambrose Pastis, and old Colonel stationed at TRIDENT.

As dawn was setting in Mattis decided on his next course of action. He thought that doing so would not jeopardize his position too much, after all, Yanitaria and the HOB had always been brother nations. With his mind decided, the General scripted his message to the Yanitaria ruler.

========
Official Communique

Encryption lvl 5
To: Frederick Norheim

Dear sir,

I am a man of war and not of words, so I will not attempt to win you with sweet talk and pleasantries. I have no illusions that you undoubtedly know the state of affairs within the HOB.

If you have any knowledge about the following two subjects I would ask that you communicate truthfully to me about them:

First, the possibility that Yanitarian arms dealers have supplied Borgesian terrorists with weapons, either in the HOB or Yanitaria.

Second, the whereabouts of Charles Clark.

I thank you in advance for your loyalty and hope that the bonds of kinship between our nations will guide you well.

-General Mattis, Steward of the House of Boothby

OOC: Jolt ate my post, I'll have to rewrite it another time. Very sorry, Booth, I was really happy with the way it turned out.

OOC: Jolt ate my post, I'll have to rewrite it another time. Very sorry, Booth, I was really happy with the way it turned out.

Don't sweat it.

Fort Marx, Yanitaria

"À votre service, monsieur," was the only response that Chaillet gave, as he stared out the window. Outside, the town passed by quickly, giving way to the country side, interspersed with small villages. The road inclined as it wound steadily towards a mountainous region towards the center of the island, a relatively benign and boring trip. It is said that half of the prostitutes in Yanitaria are runaway Arkadians, while the other half are bored farm girls who come from places similar to the countryside near Fort Marx.

It seemed a blur, and for a moment the old LEP officer could understand why anyone would want to rid himself of the scenery. Not that it wasn't pretty, it was. But it was as if everything seemed too scenic, to the point of making one sick of it. A famous painting of the idyllic but boring countryside of Yanitaria surrounding a blackened stump suddenly came to his mind, as he finally realized just what the painter tried to convey.

Although, in time, he started to feel himself drift off into sleep, until the convoy was caste into shadow by a large gatehouse.

The ancient abode, a 14th century Arkadian castle, was beautifully preserved, and plastered in the same way it would have been during it's prime, so that the walls gleamed in the moonlight. If not for the various anachronisms, such as the fine Orbathian made luxury cars parked in the stables near the actual horse stalls, or the guards with their modern looking AY-144s, the satellite on the roof, or the spectral glow of a large flat screen that crowded a window. Raindrops started to fall, causing the white walls to sparkle, as their ancient architects had planned, and so the two charges of LEP were quickly rushed out of the car, and under the overhang towards the entrance. The great oak doors were opened, and the soldiers surrounded their two guests, but kept their weapons slung loosely over their shoulders.

They were met by an official looking young man in a Royal Navy officer's uniform, and who walked as if he had a severe bowel infection. He met Charles with a stiff handshake, and asked him, "Sir, I have been asked to tell you that you now have a choice. His highness, King Norheim II has told me that you may now either retire for the night, or you may continue to the study. He sends his apologies for waking you up so late to bring you here."

OOC: Meh, I don't like this post as much as the first. I left it open because I have to go amuse so people.

Clark exchanged greetings with the young naval officer as Norheim's message was relayed to him. The voyage had been a long one, and the mental and emotional strain was starting to take a toll on the two Boothians. Non the less, Clark could not think of sleep at the moment.

"I would have an audience with Norheim as soon as possible."