NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: By the time the white colored title is edited and the current one hidden, it'll mean the radical transition of Kell from a principality to an anarchist alliance of communes is complete, for now it hasn't changed yet)

By the Grace of God the Principality of Kell
_______________________________________________________________
|By the Will of the People the Revolutionary Anarchist Commune of Kell|

Kell Regional Map (http://img291.imageshack.us/img291/5965/kellmapkn8.png)

The State is the organized authority, domination, and power of the possessing classes over the masses the most flagrant, the most cynical, and the most complete negation of humanity. It shatters the universal solidarity of all men on the earth, and brings some of them into association only for the purpose of destroying, conquering, and enslaving all the rest. This flagrant negation of humanity which constitutes the very essence of the State is, from the standpoint of the State, its supreme duty and its greatest virtue Thus, to offend, to oppress, to despoil, to plunder, to assassinate or enslave one's fellowman is ordinarily regarded as a crime. In public life, on the other hand, from the standpoint of patriotism, when these things are done for the greater glory of the State, for the preservation or the extension of its power, it is all transformed into duty and virtue This explains why the entire history of ancient and modern states is merely a series of revolting crimes; why kings and ministers, past and present, of all times and all countries — statesmen, diplomats, bureaucrats, and warriors — if judged from the standpoint of simply morality and human justice, have a hundred, a thousand times over earned their sentence to hard labor or to the gallows. There is no horror, no cruelty, sacrilege, or perjury, no imposture, no infamous transaction, no cynical robbery, no bold plunder or shabby betrayal that has not been or is not daily being perpetrated by the representatives of the states, under no other pretext than those elastic words, so convenient and yet so terrible: "for reasons of state."

Not official revolutionary commissars in any sort of sashes, but rather revolutionary propagandists are to be dispatched into all the provinces and communes and particularly among the peasants who cannot be revolutionised by principles, nor by the decrees of any dictatorship, but only by the act of revolution itself, that is to say, by the consequences that will inevitably ensure in every commune from complete cessation of the legal and official existence of the state.

The peoples' revolution .... will arrange its revolutionary organisation from the bottom up and from the periphery to the centre, in keeping with the principle of liberty.

- Mikhail Bakunin

1st day, Evening, 20:00

"Corrupt... corrupt and pathetic is the Paloni government, for they have preferred to spit at their own sovereignty over accepting the fact that they are obsolete and should have just give in peacefully to an equally corrupt republic to come, yet another sad example of how power corrupts, and of how centralized power is weakness. Without their emperor their incompetent natures pathetically pledge for money and carelessly give away their sovereignty to whoever can afford, caring little if the purchaser would be interested in building death camps, for example... a typical sign of the type of State among the most abominable ones. What they did not count was the possibility of an anarchist, or more exactly, a large of group of anarchists, having enough to purchase lands. I am not sure when to make the final declaration, they must already suspect somehow, and taking too much time will be dangerously close to the delusions of reformism, while being too fast will provoke severe culture shock. Now, how to make the seed for a grassroots development of direct action (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Direct_Action), self-management (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Workers%27_self-management) and direct democracy (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Direct_democracy#Discussion) to bring fruits?", Edward Vaughn pondered, while some of his friends were busy taking sips of booze during the celebration of what was still believed to be the coming of a new ruler.

Doubts were shadowing his mind, uncertainty was the only thought possible at such very early moment. The reactionaries were probably still conspiring, hiding like snakes (http://orpheus.ucsd.edu/speccoll/visfront/imagelarge/snake2.jpg) and preparing for an attempt to stop the emancipation of the people. The time was short to change the culture, to signal the coming of new times and to make such people never again accept a ruler in their lands. Only one thing was sure in his mind. Should he ever need support against overwhelming fascist and reactionary forces , the Revolutionary Forces of Third Spanish States would never turn their back on him or on the the people of Kell. For that was a small step towards expanding the ideal of a world without hierarchical governments, and it would not be retreated. He purchased those lands, and the actually the idea of those who sold it trying to take him down was teasing his imagination. On the other hand, with all prisons emptied of political prisoners, he was expecting that the Republicans would attempt contact him or his comrades sooner or later. They could be important to ensure he sovereignty of the future Commune of Kell, but Edward had no foolish ideas on them, they would probably see it as a threat due to how revolutionary it was, or try to bully them like what Republican Spain did with the anarchists using the Civil War as a pretext. There were just too many possibilities to ponder about in that night, and aware of such fact Edward simply decided to ease his mind and celebrate together, however, he wasn't a consumer of alcoholic beverages and stood with local juices. Everyone was instructed to avoid drinking Cocaine-Cola that day, because it would lead inevitably to a situation of ridicule that one of his "councilpersons" is photographed while drugged. And that wouldn't be have a positive impact on their reputation, and could put everything to lose by allowing the logical fallacy of claiming their ideas were "junkie's acid trips on politics", something the reactionaries would not hesitate to do in the first opportunity. The hangover would be no excuse for Felicia Herrera, although she has disappeared in the middle of the crowd, despite being easy to spot due to her red hair. Everything was calm and besides the disappearance of Felicia, nothing was troublesome during the event. Jason Trent immediately went looking for her, and the more he asked, more the answers were unpleasant.

It wouldn't take too much time to put the pieces together of all information gathered about her disappearance, to conclude that she went towards the slums in the hopes of finding a drug dealer to buy cocaine, and regarding such subject, Edward believed it was not the right time to change such point in their society, for it would probably lead to much more opposition or at least as much opposition than the primary political change that was yet to happen, so officially such drugs were still banned. Trent was franticly running towards the given directions to the slums Felicia was heading to, in the hopes of reaching her before she got into it. Seems like trouble would have happened just at the first day despite all precautions, it was not actually their fault drugs are so popular where they came from and considered normal, or that their closest to a foreign relations minister was a Cocaine-Cola junkie. However the first principle of culture shock have happened, and Trent wasn't exactly an athlete, and he sighed when the sights of that decadent urban region were ahead and he could not catch her.

Edward however, still was enjoying the party together with the people, and his friend Gusmán Cisneros, the "Minister of Economy", was a few meters ahead near a tent where a man was selling drinks. Despite the disappearance of one of them, there was still a mood of happiness and celebration, and the fireworks then came... thought Gusmán initially as he heard a crackling sound, however it was too loud for that, and soon people began to run frenetically away and scream in despair from where the noise came.

´"No!"´, Gusmán thought, and instinctively ran towards that direction, fearing the worst has come, and that the reactionaries already murdered his friend, foiling their chances of a successful revolution drastically and bringing them to a continued existence of terror, and the local police also came, but fortunately the old Edward was still there, standing, but apparently a bit shocked and weary, with a P70 10mm pistol on his hand, and small drops of blood falling from his left arm. Near him, on the ground, a bloody knife was statically pointing why he was bleeding, while just a few inches next to it, the lifeless body of a brown-haired man dressed in a black jacket was located, above a small pool of blood. The body had multiple wounds from several directions, probably because the guards shot against him as well. A medic ran towards the place, and Edward face was marked by a scowl, when he muttered to Gusmán, before the medic arrived:

"The bishop is right... better to be feared than to be loved... we must do the cleansing, right tomorrow with no delay... or more exactly, right now in a smaller scale"

The medic asked him to come to an ambulance, despite the obvious fact that his wounds were not grave or even moderate and he would not require such level of medical care, and with a surge of the purest paranoia, he did not answer the doctor, but instead pointed his pistol against him and asked, aggressively, while instructing the guards to get the hell out of there, for his paranoia led him to fear enemies of the people were everywhere. Many of his friends came to him, some armed with FA-65 assault rifles equipped with night sights, and started to cover the location, now lifelessly empty

"If I was dying, then I would need an ambulance... now it is too convenient that you appears here almost instantly after the foiled assassination attempt. Now answer me, or you'll regret: Who bribed you to lace poison in syringes as the 'Plan B'?"

The "medic", or whoever this man actually was, tried to run away as yet another loud noise came, accompanied by an human scream. The murderer fell on the ground as a couple of bullets hit his leg. Apparently the recent events have awakened the other face of Edward, for he, when younger, belonged to local militias which killed all sorts of criminals with no mercy from simple thugs to "sophisticated" megalomaniacs trying to coup d'etat the Confederacy, and whatever ethics he had, when dealing with such types, they were null.

"So? If you were honest and I was mistaken you wouldn't have tried to run away, for I know how to separate liars and scum from honest and decent people. Answer me now and I'll give you morphine, don't and you'll learn a lesson for being scum! Who sent you? The local noblesse?", he asked, while closing the firearm towards the fallen thug and touching the groin of the bandit with it aimed right towards the nether region.

"Y... yes... they... noblesse", the murderer pathetically gave it away just after that, trembling in fear of taking a shot against his manhood.

"Like I imagined, now, don't worry, you won't go to jail... now, why did you accept this? And for how much? If you lie I'll shoot your balls off!"

"For... for the money... three hundred thousands... I... yes... I... do anything... provided enough money..."

"Oh, so you're just plain scum. I hoped you were a brainwashed sentinel or something like that, and a quite dumb one for accepting this for only 300 thousands, if I were like you I would have refused to do it for less than 2 millions. Now... I doubt dead men need money... welcome oblivion, or hell if you believe in that dark fairy tale, at least it is not as worse as dying in prison"

The shot was precisely aimed and popped against the head of the wounded thug, who died instantly. Edward sighed deeply and looked at Gusmán, saying in a quick way while Gusmán used his first aid knowledge to help him:

"This is just the beginning... now... where is Felicia?"

Gusmán stopped for a while and took the e-phone:

"Trent? Did you find Felicia?"

"Gusmán, this isn't good, she went to the slums, presumably to buy some cocaine. Should I call the cops?"

"No! Don't call them! They can't be trusted, even being technically in the government we control. This night is becoming busy with scum and traitors. Just two assassination attempts happened, both fortunately failed."

"Damn! I'm going to find Felicia, comrade Santos will give me cover, we are getting into the slums. Hopefully they won't exist any longer in a few months. But... we'll have to cope with them for now. Wish me luck, bye!"

"Good luck Jason! I must escort Edward towards the palace"

Escorting Edward together with three others, while a group of his more "rough" comrades was searching the bodies for their own investigation rather than relying on previous government assets, Gusmán listened as Edward commented:

"To the south border anarchist revolutionaries are arriving as refugees from oppression, however I fear they might be a ruse for infiltrating spies, asides from those from the reactionary regime. However I think we should let them in, they might help with the spreading of the ideal from bottom to top, and their experience aid into finishing with the corrupt and reactionary scum. It's also a pity... to see an human being becoming nothing but a slave of money. We are getting close"

With much fear during their way, they have successfully reached the safety of the palace, and hidden cameras were placed, coupled with the groundworks of perhaps the most intricate physical security software possible. A visual imaging threat recognition system, capable of tagging multiple identified threats from pictures or camera feed, while the always useful metal detectors would complement them. Wounded, the new "prince" had finally a deserved night of sleep. He was indeed in a land of serpents... and those have to be killed.

Loading a clip into his EC-3 compact shotgun he kept lowered, in the hopes it would be possible to negotiate with the thugs there rather than getting into a firefight, Jason was escorted by one of his comrades armed with a SF-27 10mm submachinegun and by another armed with a 10mm pistol. They were cautiously navigating through the slums in the hopes of finding Felicia, and hopefully, finding her alive, even if stoned. Nobody wanted to ponder on what the next days would bring, however, those two murders attempts were useful and actually beneficial to ensure tighter security protocols. However, trusting the local police was difficult, and finding every corrupt among every public institution would be a long process... soon it would be ascertained that there was no other choice but to create a new... provisional government, from scratch. The old, mostly probably corrupted remains of the previous government would have to go one way or another, no matter the cost.

It was yet to be known how the slums would meet the "fresh meat", however, in the Underground, money is money. In a shady corner, Felicia was offering some quite sum of money to a shady man, who in turn gave her twenty small wrapped papers filled with white powder. Making her way back, she eventually left the slums through a different way from that they came through, hiding the drug inside her pockets and going towards the palace. Now those three men have futilely entered a rough area of the city, and it wasn't sure how they would be met there.

The "beggar" who murdered the driver had little problems to continue on his way, however crossing the border would prove challenging, unless he was "acquainted" with the local police. The anarchists running away from persecution were to be received with open arms in the provinces of Agorathia and Sorbornne in the next day. The Kellian Revolution was about to begin.

(OOC: Paloni, you can roleplay both the "Beggar" and the drug dealers in the slums, if you wish, otherwise I'll roleplay the dealers. Yes, this will be quite... active and contrived. And Yanitaria, you can RP the anarchists to if you wish, or a possible spy among them)

The word flicked form lip-to-lip, gathering as it did a pique animosity and a vim of predetermined and now defined hatred. The ‘Butcher’, it was perhaps an anachronism but as the Lord Mayor stared at the picture it seemed apt. Bloodied and almost weaving Vaughn sneered down at their operative and, though it was a still picture, the intent could be seen, and the slender muscles of Edward’s fingers were already contracting. His Highness the Prince of Kell was not the only one with access to the security cameras of the palace.

Metternich, unlike the others, said nothing but ideally chewed the mouthpiece of his pipe and blew thoughtfully on the wisp of rosewood and ash that drifted towards the smoking room’s grand ceiling. If he could but peer through the looking glass of Vaughn’s mind he was entirely convinced that the conception of backroom politics, of corrupt and degenerate powerbrokers, the room would change very little, and the thought gave him a brief smile. As Chancellor he had reigned through the rule of two Emperors both as aware of the global stage as kittens; interested in little more than the acquisition of prowess and intangible glory, to concern themselves with less metaphorical walls of defense. It seemed perhaps Vaughn was similar in that respect; he had one goal one burning objective, one value and worth, to liberate the people. Metternich had seen them before, but for all their idealism it amounted to nothing as before the end they would be wiped away by money, or greed, or power, or if proving to moral a bullet would suffice, but it all equaled one thing it was all temporary, and however well laid the plans they were but dust in the wind when compared with the inevitable bequest of man to those who are able, to be ruled.

“It is often reflected by those,” Metternich spoke, removing the pipe from his mouth and gently tapping the ash into a ready tray, “who consider themselves visionaries and liberators of an oppressed people that it is a shame men are made to bend at the knees.” The Regency Council, or at least those who remained in Paloni, stopped their nervous chattered and glanced at their chancellor, “With that statement they damn themselves, for men are not evolved from apes, we are given not reason or logic beyond the intellect which is suiting of our position, those who are intelligent or strong will lead, it is within the nature of things. So why then has the average man, risen so boldly? How had he garnered enough power and intelligence to overthrow those, which were place over him? An excellent question, one whose answer does nothing to inspire faith in humanity but rather frighten those who seek the betterment of the proletariat, for simply put it is wrong. Vaughn is wrong, misguided perhaps, or maybe far more intelligent than I suspect but, but ultimately wrong. It is then within our prerogative to correct the wrong. “ Metternich nodded and put down his pipe, “by any means necessary. He leads men astray from the fundamental pattern that thousands of years of careful royal breeding have balanced, and careful governance have pruned. They offer freedom, liberty, equality, fraternity, and steak with bacon everyday, and while this may be true the most adequate minority to poll on the subject lies moldering within the fields of Soviet labor camps. What is the worth? What is the merit of freedom beyond which is offered from security?”

“Metternich...” One of the Councilors said gently, “It is said those who give up a bit liberty for a bit of security receives and deserves neither.”

The Chancellor raised as eyebrow tenaciously, as if barely holding back his true emotions, “And whoever said that died a dissatisfied man, for he too was wrong. But enough of this have we suddenly reached disunion on the issue?”

“No we have not.”

“Capital,” the Chancellor picked up a remote from a side table and clicked on a large plasma screen TV on the wall. The Regency council had found that it had more money than it was capable of investing, and had purchased a few modest items from the newly arriving commercial forces. As the image flickered to life it showed a hastily taken set of pictures of the Emperor, Celestine III undergoing various tortures, all of which hushed the Regency Council from their overwhelming and petty arguments.

“Surely Vaughn could not have found him, or despise him that much..” One councilor asked shocked, “and what of his family?”

“It is not Vaughn’s doing, this was taken on a unknown freighter that boarded and captured the Emperor from his private yacht two days ago, the Indolence is searching for it, but there are a great many freighters in the world. His family is luckily safe, the attackers did not seem interested in them. I bring this up merely as a point, this is no man’s land. We have no contacts outside Paloni, it is unsafe to flee, it is dangerous to live here without a base of power. I wish merely to steel your hearts, and as of this moment the Regency Council is disbanded, we have done our duty, let us return to being average citizens.” He clicked off the television and set the remote down, in the hushed room it was a loud click, against the marble table.

“But we are not average.”

Metternich finally gave a grudging smile and picked up his pipe again, “how quickly you learn.”

--

He left the keys in the car, it would be a kindness to one of the peasants passing through the secluded roads of Western Kell, or if Vaughn was vindictive as well as generous, then it would cause terrible problems, both situations suited the man. The Beggar, he rather liked the pseudonym, it gave him a feeling of sightlessness, a force impossible to pin down or verify, but always in the shadows, and always ready with a hand. The Beggar driven in a roundabout pattern, not following the most obvious path, but taking country roads seemingly at random, until he had been about ten miles out of Westhall, where his phone had rung once again. Metternich seemed excited, and the feeling was reciprocated in the Beggar, for though the man was completely apathetic to the affairs of Empire and Republic he was whole heartedly in favor of the one million being wired to an offshore bank account. He had hit the brakes right there and then skidding the car to a halt and carefully listening to the requests of the Chancellor.

It had been in his old life, on before money and fast cars, he had worked as a drifting agent occasionally for the Republic or for foreign powers, or for anyone who would pay him for scraps of information, and after the Empire had broken the ciphers of the Republic and killed about eighty percent of the spy state in the first two months of the war, he had vanished off the map. Now he had reappeared and, his minor skill was in high demand, for anyone can find promotion by being better than others, but the Beggar reasoned that it was much more difficult to reach promotion by everyone above you being killed. It was perhaps this twisted logic that made him leave the car on the side of the road, and answer the phone.

The request was simple enough, finding damning evidence of what Vaughn attempted, hand it over to the local Magistrate and let the law take it’s course, failing that he was to take more direct means, and with that, Metternich had promised, represented even more money. So the Beggar had run through fields and over the still pristine countryside of Kell, not in any particular direction and not staying hidden just in a straight line. It seemed he ran for miles before he came across a delivery van, proclaiming it contained the ‘World’s Best Wines’ it would do. The Beggar paused to a jog, and finally slowed to a sedate walk, timing it so he approached the van only slightly out of breath.

“Good morning, I seem to be lost, my car broke down about four miles down that way, where am I and is there a phone?” the Beggar asked politely to a tremendously fat man who sat dozing in the front seat, with his stubby legs resting on the dashboard.

With one ham sized hat the grocer pushed a baseball cap from his eyes and blearily glared down at his interrupter, “We are outside Tally’s Wholefoods, and there’s no phone, not for you.”

“You wrong me sir,” the Beggar stated still retaining his polite attitude.

“I could do a lot worse to you, so get the hell away.” The hat was pulled back over his eyes, and the grocer resolutely turned his back to the man. Sighing the Beggar retrieved from his jacket pocket a silenced 9mm pistol, grabbed the door of the van pulled it open, stuck it in the face of the livid grocer and fired twice.

The body hit the ground like a slab of meat, which now it technically was. It had taken the Beggar ten minutes to half drag half carry the body to a dumpster, strip it of it’s clothes and identity, and because he didn’t have a hope of lifting the grocer into the dumpster tucked him gently beside it, and put an orange crate over his head, to spare the more impressionable of his wounds. No one had been near the van, it seemed there was some event going on, some party or something, the Beggar had never been one for parties, and had certainly not been one for watching them on TV. With a stoop the Beggar grabbed the baseball hat from the ground and flicked it into a grove of pine trees, and then settled into the drivers seat. It was not so thrilling as the luxury car of the elite but it would get him back to Fennel.

--

“That’ll be 950 Dollars,” the man whispered from his gloom.

The woman placed her hands resolutely on her hips, then after an embarrassed moment sighed and produced the money. For inside the shadows he could wait all night but the women needed it, it was one of the better aspects of the business in general. With a smile, or at least what could have been a smile, a small bag was passed over and given to the woman, who neglected to thank the man as she strode away.

This was the moment in any business man’s life where he should have scratched his head, packed up his wares, and walked off for home, but the drug dealer paused a moment and stared up at the night sky for awhile, as if caring about the fireworks. After a calculated moment another figure detached itself from the shadows and sauntered over to the dealer.

“You gave her the hard stuff?”

“Oh yes,” the dealer said as he began to pack up his possessions and tuck them into his coat, “no hangover from this lot, she’ll be gibbering by morning, Crack Cocaine, I promise.”

“And if I can’t trust you,” the Beggar left the statement hanging and simply reached into his own pocket and pulled out a considerably thicker wad of cash, which the dealer took silently. “Good night to you.” With hands shoved into pocket both men departed the corner, leaving it again to the night. For one man though his hands were around something, his small phone, his phone that had been presented to him by Chancellor Metternich’s assistant himself, a special phone. The quality of the picture would not be very good, but the face was there, the action was there, and the intent was certainly there. Now all the Beggar had to do was see to it that the natural order was kept, tat the common man be kept common, and though it contradicted everything within his nature he had to see a policeman.

--

it was some hours later before the heavy squad could be scrounged up but when it was it’s deployment was rapid, and before the city new what was happening armored vans were rumbling down the streets, and pulling into the public square around the palace. The local Magistrate, had jumped on the picture, and though eighty heavily armed men were not necessary for a drug bust, they had come out of the wood work, if it was for spite or by order though the policemen stood outside the palace it didn’t matter for they still stood, riot shields in hand and rifles held in only a half casual way. No doubt palace security had seen them coming, had heard probably hours before that they were, but it was the symbol of the thing.

“Open this door, in the name of,” the Magistrate paused, he was unsure whose power he should invoke at this point, “His Highness the Prince of Kell. We have information that this premise,” he paused again cursing his lack of knowledge on protocol when arresting an advisor to the head of state, “is being used to harbor enemies of the state and law beakers. We have information compelling us to believe that there is upon this premise, a person, or persons in possession of hard drugs, which is a serious offense. We have a warrant for their arrest and to search and confiscate all illegal material from,” one last time the man sighed, “the Royal Palace. This door will be opened in one minute, either by force or by willful cooperation with authorities! You have been warned!”

OOC OOC Thread should be Empire collapses, to try to keep this as IC as possible.

OOC: Tag for tonight, I have a paper to do. How many spies am I allowed to have? I was thinking 5, spread around the spectra of power, with one being semi-high level, two being middle level, and two being low level mechanic types.

Ignacio Álvarez, sorted through his paperwork silently. While doing so, he tried not to look at his partner across the room. His real name wasn't Ignacio, he was not hispanic at all, but Yanitarian. Although with his fair skin, and dark hair, he could pass, very convincingly, for a Spaniard. He had been hand picked for his flawless accent, and his plain, unassuming, and notably spanish looking face.

He was officially an accountant who was born in the city of Tucker, in the Third Spanish State. If anyone had asked, he was an unabashed anarchist, who favoured anarcho-capitalism, and sought the disestablishment of oppressive regimes. But he knew that deep down inside, under the mask he wore, was a socialist. Having seen both sides of the socialist and anarchist nations, he knew that it only strengthened his socialist loyalties. And for this, he knew he may one day be caught.

His partner, he didn't know her real name, he only knew her as Camila Bordonaba, sat across the room casually thumbing through supplies expense receipts. They were alone, but one in their business knew that they were never alone.

A largish man entered the room, from the "recruiting" section of the rebellion. He too, was one of them, sent from Yanitaria because of his features and accent. He whispered to the accountant. "Score is two to one. Should'a seen him, drove down the field like a fucking truck."

The message was clear. There were two new guys sent from Wittenshcau, mechanics. Ignacio nodded, "I never get to see the game."

Sneaking through the slums and avoiding being seen or heard wasn't easy, but the darkness which protected its questionable businessmen did not choose allies or enemies, and protected with no exceptions all those who knew how to navigate and take advantage of it. The small group passed almost a decade without seeing any real combat, although being members of a paintball team. But they still could remember the firefights against government forces, the blood spilled in cities, most of them were veterans of the Second Civil War, and experience does not cease to exist with lack of real practice. For their surprise, Jason quickly gesture for them to stop, for they reached very close of the drug sales point, and apparently some thugs were talking... it was more wise for now to listen for anything which could end up being interesting than going guns blazing. And indeed their conversation was quite interesting. Only a wall separated the field of view from the thugs from theirs, but it did not muffle the voices of those disgusting human being away from their ears:

“You gave her the hard stuff?”, one of the voices asked, and it seemed quite familiar for Jason, but it was too short of a sentence for him to recognize it. It was obviously that she bought something there, and that whatever it was, someone wanted her dead for some reason, from what he interpreted from the tone of voice through which the word "hard" was spoken.

“Oh yes,” the dealer said, following some sounds of what seemed to be a pack up, and then the voice of such thug added: “no hangover from this lot, she’ll be gibbering by morning, Crack Cocaine, I promise.”, just confirming Trent's fears. They had to warn her and stop her from consuming it, however, getting that man alive, if possible, would be a much higher priority at the moment. It was starting to become almost ridiculous, Tucker thought, such was the intensity of the operations of those who feared for losing their privileges maintained at the expense of the poor and miserable. It seemed like a sort of far-fetched conspiracy story what was happened, and paranoia would soon become a mean of survival in such dire situation.

“And if I can’t trust you,”, the same voice said in a threatening tone, and added “Good night to you.”, than the voice was added as Jason finally recognized it. How ironic, he thought, that the first man to be benefited by a small sample of their socially progressive policies was a traitorous scum. He simply asked them to not engage the scum, or "beggar", they would inform Edward of it, and hasten the "cleansing" project. Probably hundreds or even many thousands of corrupts and scum would have to be found and eliminated. Two were already down, but that was only the beginning. Machiavelli said that ideally one should be both feared and loved, and maybe it was time to prove such feat was not impossible. They did not manage to sneak to notice how the "beggar" called the corrupt among the police for a very daring attempt on a coup d'etat. He wondered if perhaps it was time to admit they would need some serious help from Third Spanish States, including some heavy military presence, however asking for their help would botch their plans of becoming popular among the local population. However, maybe it was possible to make things difficult for further attempts in the next days, weeks and months. A mutual vigilance ideal would allow people to spot and kill fascists, scum, traitors and alike with no problems, it was time to add the fear aspect to the love aspect, for each complement the other.

They sneaked out of the slums safely, only to witness what was obviously a coup d'etat attempt. They barely managed to hide from one of the cars. Jason quickly accessed his portable computer with the EDDNet Critical Encryption Network Protocol to contact Vaughn about it, recommending them to deploy all the man-portable ADATS missiles and sniper rifles from the stockpile, and to attempt solving it peacefully if possible, but to not show any weakness. It was clearly a sort of wicked game, where being too soft or too brutal are equally roads to defeat. However, it was time to give a blow against the head of the snake. The three middle-aged and experienced fighters headed towards the courtyard to, if necessary, prepare a surprise attack through the roofs of buildings nearby the castle.

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

Felicia was shocked, it was only by sheer luck that she wasn't spotted by the assault team packing into the castle while she headed through there, and she quickly, against her primal urges, and in an rational act which later she would be thankful of, disposed of the drugs she purchased into an alley and drew her pistol, just in case. ´"Damn fascists! They don't leave us in peace! And we didn't even start it!"´, she thought. It wasn't that late in the night, and having little choice, presuming people were still awoke by that time, she went to a nearby residential area away from the commotion and politely knocked a door of a home, for the streets were incredibly dangerous by now. Maybe among the hard-working people, allies could be found. She wondered if staying in such palace for much longer was a good idea. Everybody knew where it was and how to reach it. Perhaps it was time to move the seat of their provisional government in Kell to a secret location from where they could, with the help of anarchists, direct the revolution with very little remorse or moderation. It was clear that, one way or another, they would have to get rid of the cops, for there was only one explanation for such excess of force in a supposed order of arrest. It was definitively a conspiracy. Maybe inside the house of an honest person, which from its looks obviously was a family house, she would feel safer for a while, for the impending sensation of something about to catch her was disturbing. To avoid fears, she concealed her firearm the best she could, while taking the closest thing she had to an official seal, with the anarchist symbol that Vaugh chosen as the flag of the future Commune of Kell. Or maybe, that house was inhabited by a journalist. "Conspiracy of Unimaginable Proportions to install fascist State in Kell uncovered!" would be the sort of thing that would help them. She knew all "editorials" were biased, but communications would be one of the first changes they would make. Right as of the next morning, most newspapers, specially those known for supporting the previous government, would be taken over and turned into cooperatives and independent media centers by force, for the snakes having the media as a tool to broadcast their lies to use the people as puppets would be something they wouldn't allow at all. But for now she only waited to be answered by whoever lived in that house

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

"Wake up Vaughn! The fascist pigs are trying a coup d'etat!", one of his friends shouted. The royal quarters were comfortable much beyond everything Edward experienced before, and considering he had slept more than once in the woods, comfort was something he valued more than most. With a wince, he signaled that his arm wasn't healed yet from the wound while he got up from the spacious bed. Quickly opening his weary eyes he asked with a hurried up voice and speech:

"Is the contingency ready? And did they make any demands or are they trying to run and gun?", was his question, replied while he was dressing himself and grabbing a nearby Type III ballistic vest fearing for the worse.

"Everything set, we have snipers properly hidden at the castle towers, and also anti-tank missiles ready for fire if necessary, our comrades are positioned strategically and brought stun grenades and other less-than-lethal weaponry just in case, and also their assault rifles and, as I suggested, the Sledgehammer automatic shotguns, because it seems it might be necessary to show them who is "The Prince" of Kell. They are claiming one of us brought drugs, but I'm sure it's a pretext, they actually are probably there to attempt killing you. Machiavelli was right on one thing, changing the status quo is really the toughest thing"

"Yes, but we are going to succeed, now Felicia! Damn you! You just gave them the pretext they needed! Well, is she back? Also how many are there? Could we handle them?", he asked, while taking a SF-27 submachinegun on the left nightstand near the bed, and unlocking its safety.

"Felicia never returned, and I fear for the worst. Comrade Jason reported the mobilization hours ago so we could prepare properly for it and is hidden nearby to flank them if necessary. Nine armored cars plus the pigs. If a conflict happens, we have a chance to take them, but we are still outnumbered. by one to four."

"Where is the closest comm? Have you swept the place for bugs?", he asked, regarding any communication device which would allow him to talk with those cops without showing himself in a vulnerable position.

"Edward, it is just here, and yes, we found some damn bugs around, seems like some people were seeking to spy on us. Also our computer specialist found a strange IP range coming from, other regions from Paloni which was receiving network traffic from our... cameras, unfortunately he couldn't locate the specific physical address attributed to it", his friend said pointing to a corner of the bedroom, Edward frowned and said:

"Aha! I paid hundreds of billions to those snakes and they now are sending thugs to kill me? I think we'll have some extra funds very soon", he claimed, suggesting something very risky, but rewarding. "All we need is a blank account, and to find more hackers, it'll be tough, but those pigs deserve having their money emptied and used against themselves. However we better lay low for now, because it would be too obvious. But keep this possibility in mind. If I had an army I would have liberated whatever these pathetic and corrupt scum did not sell to anyone and kill them all, with my own hands!"

After unleashing his anger, and cursing the Emperor of Paloni in all names from "fascist pig" to some more offensive expressions, something muffled by the acoustic isolation of that room, Edward calmed down, headed to and grabbed the phone, quickly connecting to an outside intercomm where his voice came thundering, retaining a part of his previous anger, for it seems that Paloni didn't honor their business, and with no honor or humanity in his eyes, were now obviously scum to be killed, just like all the dictators, all those who tried to take over Third Spanish States and alike. It was right that he never mentioned he was an anarchist, but they never asked it in the first place, and he was not the only non-monarchist that purchased lands there. His voice was of command combined with anger:

"Why do you dare to come on claiming to be on behalf of my authority, disturb my sleep while I am wounded and also claim accusations with no single evidence? Why on the end of the world would I harbor my own enemies or lawbreakers of the laws I determine here inside? Yes, it makes not a modicum of sense? And while you are wasting your time here, there might be an innocent being harassed elsewhere by a thug. Do you understand? You could be putting all those vans to fight murderers, robbers, rapists and alike instead of futilely wasting my time. No, not you could, you have to because this is an order! For I am the Prince of Kell! And I don't remember ordering YOU to come here and bother me with unfounded accusations some paranoids decided to claim because they don't like my methods! So I ask you to leave your liege in peace before I lose my patience! Now!"

The next dawn would maybe... erupt into bloodshed, or perhaps, bloodshed would not wait for the dawn. The corrupt would not easily let their power go away, however Edward was sure, that if he managed to show the people his compassion, while showing to the scum his mercilessness, he would eventually conquer the people of Kell, and be loved... and also feared. The fog of uncertainty was going away, and it was becoming obvious that the challenge would be much greater than they already imagined before. Perhaps there could be something else to do.

As for the Yanitarian spies, nobody suspected from them, yet. A sympathizer of the new government guided the anarchist refugees from the south through the city of Europa, a sort of classic metropolis filled with some art deco architecture which had 800 thousands of inhabitants. The evening news watched from hotel bedrooms were already reporting the two foiled assassination attempts against Edward Vaughn, which was a clear sign he had some powerful enemies inside Kell, while at the same time, the photograph of the "Beggar" appeared with an "Wanted" sign with the indications "Drug trafficking and conspiracy against the State" , thanks to initial contacts they set and informed just after Jason eavesdropped the conspiracy, added with a comment on how pitiful it was that the first benefited by the new proposed social polices of Prince Vaughn was such lowlife. Finding temporary housing in hotels, the actual anarchists simply were pale. If he had simply consorted with "The Man", such absurdity of assassination attempts right at his first day would never have happened, but they were still wary of the possibility Edward Vaugh could become a sort of new Stalin, corrupted by power. The first day was about to end, but it was yet to be seen who would Felicia meet in an unknown home she sought refuge at, and how the officers would react to Prince Vaughn's reply to their accusations and to his orders.

Upon learning of the rebellion, many native Wittenshcauans, who believed greatly in the ideals of anarchism, grabbed their weapons. Ever since the begining of the "Yanitarian Occupation", arms stolen from the People's Police Force, mostly AY-1Ms and ATMY-1 Nails, had found their way into anarchist hands.

Men, living in dread over the coming policies of the socialist state, drove towards the border with Kell, and prepared to help the anarchists there form their own state. Technicals dotted the pick up trucks and sedans as many thousands of people moved towards their promised land. Among them were even native Yanitarians.

Of course the Yanitarian Foreign Legion had spotted this long in advance, and set up initial roadblocks. After brief conversations where the Wittenshcau anarchists simply stated that they were leaving for good, the legionnaires, for the most part, shrugged.

Before long, Lord-Dutchess Norheim granted them permission to leave peacefully. However, this was not without incident. At one road block, three cars and a technical stopped by the Legionnaires were emptied. The leader of the civilian group argued with the leader of the legionnaire squad, and before long, an HMGY-147 opened up, spraying the cars and anarchists. The bodies were buried on the road side, and the cars were sunk in a river. No official inquiry was made, as the incident was never reported.

On the opposite side of things, one squad of legionnaires decided to abandon their post. They were stationed on the border when they stopped a column of cars headed over. After a brief conversation, the soldiers loaded their HMGY-147 into the SLT-31 Eques, and abandoned their guardpost for the new world that awaited them.

OOC: Hope you don't mind me dumping my insurgents on you. Go ahead and RP them as reinforcements. You can even keep the legionnaires. But is this post alright with you? If you have any objections, go ahead and say, and we can just delete this post.

For a moment time stood still around the magistrate and his policemen while their minds worked at the speed of light, adding such factors as the heavy arms the new government had been packing when they arrived, the dead medic sitting not blocks away in the hospital, and suddenly how low they felt below the walls. One gloved hand was extended forward, and the Vice Squads fingers’ tensed on their G-3’s, but the hand was swung down in a sign at dismissal. Two men at this point stepped out of the shadows near the gateway arch, both of them in the Imperial clothing of the House of Austbach, and the former Imperial dynasty; their halberds were leveled most dangerously. Strangely they were members of the police force, and while Vaughn could dismiss his own palace guards these two were actually policemen and, if he wanted them off his door he would have to sift through ten centuries of Imperial protocol, then file the appropriate paper work. It was one of those traditions that no state was complete without, another one of their traditions were the two meter pikes level at the policemen which seemed not only traditional, but also very sharp.

Stiffly and from the waist the Magistrate bowed towards the gates of the castle and whispered, in the hope that if they had wired the place they had put down microphones, “There is only so far you can bend the law, before it breaks Highness.” He then straightened and yelled this time, “We apologize your highness, we did not mean to insinuating you were harboring enemies of the state, it was merely a tip off. We shall obey your orders.” In squads the policemen began to file back towards their vans, and if the mood could be measured looked rather thankful.

“Sleep well your Highness,” the Magistrate shouted up before stepping off towards the lead van. The honor guards equally fulfilling their role disappeared back into the shadows but not before the Magistrate could not to them and politely state, “Anthony, Roger, keeping well are you? I shall tell your mother you look excellent in tights.” He politely touched his cap then swung up into the back of the SWAT van which rumbled off a few seconds later.

--

“Damn, their hiding something.” One of the officers thumped his fist against the side of the van once they had started moving. “You could hear it is his voice. Worse than drugs, is what I’m thinking.”

“You aren’t paid to think, you’re paid for your trigger finger.” A captain replied mildly.

“Yeah cap, but in lieu of the truncheon…”

“Don’t constable, I can’t take any more smartasses tonight.” Stripping off his combat gloves the Magistrate held one hand to his head, and gently messaged his temples, “How do we get in?”

“I’m sure there is something in the Imperial Library we could catch him with on a technicality on. You know, he didn’t watch his armor for the night, or something, I could have a few of my boys take a look.”

“It’ll take too long, speaking of that though how many men do we have?”

The captain scratched his head, “the dossiers say maybe sixty thousand throughout the principality, after the draft…”

“No I mean men that we can trust, that are here. How many aren’t just in it for the badge.”

“That rather ruins the game but,” he did a few mental calculations using his fingers as aides, “there’s my men, the palace guard, both dismissed and the six on the doors, Captain Hanner and his squad, and maybe the civil defense chief and his staff. Maybe two hundred, that are willing to break a few rules if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah something like that.” The van took a sharp turn which signaled it had pulled into the station, and as it ground to a halt, the doors rattled open. “Anyway I want men watching the palace, we still have the warrant, and if a women leaves you be sure to follow here, check her movements, make sure they don’t hit the slums, sort of thing. Get men on the roves as well, no one leaves that place without me being able to tell their shoe size.” The vice squad stepped down from the van and headed into the warm glow of the patrol office, which seemed even more pleasant after a night of near gunfights. “Also I have a job for some of the regulars, let’s get the snake out of it’s hole shall we?”
--

“Armed Policeman!” Before the phrase was half over the 9mm was spraying the alley with fire, which did not fail, as was now becoming usual, to hurl out of it’s misty depths a bottle of flaming petrol, which caught on the windshield of a parked car and burst into flames. “One down.”

“Two down!” Screamed two officers of the law as they swept the alley for any more of the pesky dealers, people of the night, beggars, or unlucky people who happen to be standing there. This sort of thing had been going on for two hours, and had started early in the morning, after the Magistrate had awakened the prince. It had taken nine hundred of the Capital’s police two hours to move down the slums, and behind them bodies and flaming cars lay strent about the street along with marching columns of prisoners who had left their pitchforks at home. Property had not escaped the violence either and it seemed that at least one in five houses was on fire, or an bomb had torn off the front of the house and thrown it to the street. Smoke, screaming, and gunfire filled the air, as a solid line of marching policemen pushed up the street with riot clubs, beating back the more passive rioters, and slapping handcuffs around them. A constant stream of vans left the slums filled with prisoners.

“Sir!” Captain Hanner stood to attention over the body of an obviously dead man, poking out of an alley, “We’ve seized nearly a hundred kilograms of varied drugs, one thousand small arms, explosives, immoral materials,” the man blushed slightly at this and used his saluting hand to block the fact to the Magistrate who had paused in his ride through the city. He, as was also custom had a white charger and rode in company of the police’s color guard, and also according to tradition the Imperial flag, which strangely looked as if it had been given a shine and polish and now sparkled in the sun, in comparison with the new flags flying over the palace. “There were also forty stolen vehicles, a myriad of reportedly stolen, personal possessions, and we’ve matched the faces of at least ten men with known criminals, all of which are now deceased.”

“Good man Hanner.” The Magistrate smiled down at him, “the Prince suggested we go find a few cutthroats, well it seems as if we’ve found some. Now, set fire to the Hostel.”

“What sir?” Hanner asked politely.

“Set fire to the Hostel over there, lob a petrol bomb in there.”

“Sir there are still some people in their sir.”

“Well I can’t help the accidents of policing, there are a few lunatics that will do anything for a sick laugh, burn it down please.” His voice had crystallized around the edges and clearly said what would happen to anyone who disobeyed him.

“Yes Sir! Constable” The magistrate kicked his horse into a canter, and smiled a bit when he passed what used to be a two story house, and saw the palace glittering fresh in the morning sun. He couldn’t resist the urge and his hand flew up in a salute.

“Methinks twas you what killed the Prince of Kell sir.” Happily, and as the bottle behind him was being filled, he thought of the emotions of Vaughn’s face, had he not be ordered to go find murders, and rapists? And as he heard the woff and expansion of fluids behind him, he had done exactly that.

(OOC: Now I'll start to attempt RPing the side of the former local noblesse and of the reactionaries, unless Waldenburg 2 finds it preferable to do it by himself, although I don't want you to force you to RP both Paloni nation-wide authorities and the nobles of Kell. Also, Julie, unlike the beggar, isn't a spy or alike, and also I'll open a space for a chance for them to contact the Republicans in Paloni, I'll start building the contact character, then you can take it from there, but please don't make it as another spy rather than a Republican, because it's already too paranoid as it is. Also I hope the almost entire focus on a single character won't detract from this post quality)

For the luck of Felicia, someone finally answered to the knocks she gave to the door, it was an woman, who, almost immediately asked before even opening the door, and thus it was not possible to properly identify this person asides from voice. However, at the same moment, there were some guards coming dangerously close towards her direction, and yet she had to avoid giving in further details. Felicia was among the "old school" of the Confederacy, and at 45 years old, had her own share of contributions to the establishment of Third Spanish States, and her wrinkles were the signs of many stresses she had in the past, while her weary amber eyes were rimmed with the mark of the primary manner she used to escape from reality, and her dark blond hairs were beginning to grey. Now a new challenge was ahead, to overcome the hostilities of new reactionaries. Her concealed firearm was the only thing that could protect her. She did not trust the police, believing they were a tool of the former government and a primary source for defending the interests of the previous regime, but her opinion was insignificant to the fact that soon those cops would spot her, and she had to act quickly

"Yes? What is it?", the woman inside the house asked, triggering an almost instant reply of Felicia, whose time was running out quickly. She pretended with difficulties to make a calm tone of voice rather than desperate, and hopefully her bluff would work:

"Hello, sorry for disturbing you, My name is Felicia Jaumann, my car was stolen and I have nowh..."

"Oh, come on in!", the woman gently replied, before Felicia could even finish it. The opening of the door was at the exact moment and time of the last few seconds before the cops would be close enough to spot her. Quickly, but discreetly coming inside with fear running into her mind, Felicia barely managed to avoid being spotted, and as soon as she entered into the house, the door was closed. The woman looked like to have little more than 20 years old, had a brown hair and hazel eyes, and was dressing a simple dress, she guided Felicia through the foyer, and to the living room where a 34'' television was on. Its screen demonstrated a reporter announcing the fact that a doctor was murdered "accidentally" by the new "brutal" prince following the paranoia of an almost successful assassination attempt against him, in what clearly consisted into a carefully set lie, as among his comrades, who consisted into individuals with each specialized in every sort of field, a chemistry specialist collected all the drugs with the "doctor" for analysis to prove that such doctor was indeed an assassin, and although Felicia did not know that, she intuitively knew that all that was a big lie, and after sitting down in the sofa with the woman in the house, Felicia said, politely, before the woman could ask further question. It was clear also a certain German accent into her speech:

"Thank you for accepting me in your home for now, I wasn't sure where to go after that carjack. Now, if it isn't any intrusion to mention, these news are biased and filled with some discrete lies. It's obvious that some people are afraid of losing privileges after things changes, and they'll do anything they can to avoid it, and he is sort of different from the usual prince, isn't him? What's your name"

The woman turned her head to Felicia, and spoke in reply:

"Julie Garnel, and you aren't from here, are you? Where did you come from? I know you are lying about having your car stolen, but I could sense you were in some danger. Were you being stalked by someone? If so, would you like to call the police? I can borrow the telephone."

Felicia pretended that she did not hear it, calling the pigs to help her against a coup d'etat from which the pigs themselves were participating wasn't her idea of being intelligent, but something that only a full idiot would do, with a quick wit she spoke, pretending to cry and burst in sadness:

"The police can't do nothing about it! It's my ex, he stalks me during nights, but I have no proof to stop him and he doesn't stop tormenting me! When will I ever live in peace?... I came from Germany a long time ago, then I did the biggest mistake of my like, I married him and since then, I have only regretted it.", she forced herself too much, and it was clear it was all a big lie to Julie, who looked funnily at Felicia for a while and then replied, backing off:

"Miss Felicia, if you don't want to tell me why are you here, then there is only one thing to assume: you are the one the police is after in this neighborhood, aren't you? And I doubt your true name is Felicia, I won't house criminals here, but I see I don't have much choice here", the woman said, noticing the bump in Felicia's pocket"

Felicia sighed, clearly nervous, and tried to explain the situation more precisely, in the hopes that somehow that woman might sympathize with her plight and with the tribulations her friends were suffering from the enemies of the people, and her own past, which she reminded in a quite emotional way.

"Don't worry, I don't kill decent and honest people, would it bother you to hear the long history about all on me? I owe you an explanation"

"No, you do not look like a criminal to me Felicia, and as tomorrow is Saturday, I don't have any overtime duties from the office for tomorrow, I have time to listen to what is this all about.", Julie replied, shrugging at the idea of the boring paperwork of the office of AAL Information Technologies she worked at as a secretary. At least, if such individual was truly going to confide her with everything, and did not take advantage of being armed for anything, whatever she had to tell would be interesting, and indeed it was.

"I hope you have an open enough mind Julie, because I can feel I can trust you to tell this, for some of what I am going to tell you is something few know here in Kell and almost nobody knows. My full name is Felicia Schreider Jaumann, although I was born in Munich, I did not come from Germany a long time ago, but from the Anarchist Confederacy of Third Spanish States, where I lived in a community of German anarchists. I fled from Germany with my parents during the European Oil Crisis twenty nine years, when our government became very oppressive, almost fascist, and my grandfather was murdered because he was a communist, despite being 68 years old by that time. We heard about a man who was supposedly creating a society without famine and misery in the south of Spain, and a society which did not need kings, presidents or any leaders, only the people. We had to steal an old sailboat in France and we sailed by ourselves in the Mediterranean, because most of Spain was under government control, and martial law.

We had no food for the last three days of travel, and our water ran out in the last day we just hug each other and struggled against weakness. I thought I was going to die... I starved and suffered thirst, then we finally arrived at the harbor of Málaga when all hopes seemed to be gone. We barely managed to get out of the boat, but the locals helped us, gave us food and water. The city had visible marks of war, and many building downed by bombardments, because it declared itself independent from the Spanish government as an anarchist commune. I lived there for seven years, I witnessed battles, saw death in my eyes... and I learned that my father died fighting, not for his nation or home... but for something like what his father believed at, he wasn't that political before, but what happened to the world, and what the government have done, changed my father's mind. I..."

Felicia wasn't particularly noisy, it simply happened as tears came, truly from her eyes when the image of her last visage of her father came to mind. He was carrying an AK-104 rifle in his shoulders and a bunch of magazines, telling her that he would do his best to come back alive, that he had to defend such people from oppression, that he couldn't let them die like what he did with his grandfather. She was too afraid to ask to join him at the time, and she regretted it deeply, maybe if she fought side to side with him she could have saved his life, maybe she would have just died with him, or maybe she would have died and he survived. But she couldn't run away again, leave her friends and parents behind in such pursuits. And after being soothed by the woman, who was clearly empathizing with Felicia, she continued her history:

"...it might be difficult to believe because I'm a bit out of fitness, it was a way to forget it to adopt a sedentary lifestyle in my late thirties, but when I was younger, I volunteered to the Eisen Spalte, I joined the revolution, I became an anarchistische after I saw how they managed to make life much better by putting into the individual or into everyone the role previously assumed by governments. I killed people, and I saw friends dying, I saw tanks treads smashing people like ants and I felt some bullets coming through my skin... sometimes I thought I was going to lose my mind during it, it is not glorious or thrilling like in movies, it is just, a moment where all that matters is to put your life as more important than that of those who are shooting at you and try to ignore the horrible things you see, smell and hear. They were just following orders, those soldiers had families too, but there they were... being puppets, cannon fodder for the "emergency powers" government, but also they were people, hard-working and honest, but unfortunately the government pulled their worst.", following that, she skewed her bag, from where she took an old, stained 4x4 photograph of a small boy, of about four years old, and said:

"I look at him, and I know how it does feel to lose a father, but it must have been much worser for him, he was much younger than me when... I killed his father in the European Civil War. We were just fighting for different reasons and sides. His father, for the government, probably because he was forced to. I, for anarchism, freedom and human dignity, because I wanted to. In the end, there could be no other fate. Although many of the soldiers we captured alive ended siding with us, because they were being forced at gunpoint to go to the war, that would change nothing. I cannot forget scenes I would rather not describe to you, all the death and slaughter. Some of the government side have been turned into monsters, lost all their humanity, I witnessed horrendous atrocities done in the name of "law and order", I even saw a children being murdered. It was horrible beyond words to see what war turns some men into, and what is done in the name of the State or sometimes, even of God or gods", she stopped and sighed deeply, the images of rotting corpses, bodies separated into several pieces by explosions, the cadaveric smell, the diseases and flies, it couldn't vanish from her mind. She was clearly becoming nervous from telling it, as if it amplified some painful and horrible memories, and Julie was noticing it:

"Felicia, if you don't want to tell more, don't. Now I see what all the commotion is about. You are part of this new government and you are going to try dissolving your entire government here, aren't you?"

Felicia managed to let the images of war deeper in her mind, and replied honestly about it, for it was simply obvious what they intended to do, there was not much to hide about:

"Yes, sooner or later, power corrupts, the least we stay in government, less the chances of it corruption one or many of us. We are going to first void all taxes, shut down the police, turn all schools, hospitals and critical infrastructure providers into government-independent institutions capable of sustaining themselves organized as cooperatives, and try to teach the people how to live without a government. And don't worry, now that I began it, as long as you still are interested, I'll you tell you the rest of my history"

Julie smiled profoundly at Felicia and replied: "I am honored by the way you trust me despite never having met me before, Felicia", and a reply came fast to Julie: "I just had a gut feeling that I can trust you, I've seen and heard enough to make even the most optimistic person a total paranoid today. Now, like I was saying..."

"We held them off for years, and then we received news the government finally collapsed. However, no matter how we celebrated at the first day, we were too late to stop a bunch of would-be dictators to take over and turn it into something even worser: a tyranny like that of Soviet Union under Stalin, the monster who killed dozens of millions of innocents. And when the revolution ended, we no had to fight against yet another government. I saw seven years of wars, until finally, the same men who called us to there, using some of the wealth we took back that the government stole from us, and with the help of many hard-working people, called everyone, I will admit, we simply stole many ships to slowly migrate to the artificial island being built where Third Spanish States is now, while those left behind were defended by many against the People's Republic of Spain. I was one of the last ones to leave, with the ear-blasting noises of artillery fire behind and my face filled with ashes and blood, I was in the last line of defense we made for the final migration. Then I finally re-encountered my mother on other side. Life was difficult in the beginning, we had to ration water, and had little more than fish and seafood to eat, but soon we managed to establish an entire ecosystem in that island, and we brought everything we could scavenged from our former land in technology. We built it from scratch, before us there was nothing there but sea. Since then I joined a cooperative, I finally resumed my studies in psychology, and helped to build a town with other Germans who came there, I worked as a mason, carpenter, farmer, fisherwoman and many other things rather than just as a psychologist, and actually it is the best thing when you work exercising both mind and body instead of only one. Although now we are no longer Germans, we are linked by nationality, but by ideology, and we live together with Spanish, British, Portuguese, French and many others from across Europe, and recently, from the world who believed. We began as a rag-tag group of anarchists in a resources-less land, and now... we came much beyond what skeptics would limit after much effort. Where before we had to restrain our needs to not let others without having what to eat or drink, now we live in unequaled prosperity, with no single example of poverty. I stopped doing physical works because I began to feel the impact of age, and decided to focus myself to politics. In the end I joined Tienda del Coche where I met the 'highness', Edward Vaughn and became his friend. Now it all leads to here then"

"I see. Why did you and your friends decide to 'buy' Kell?"

"What the cronies who run Paloni did is only the proof of how a government can do the unthinkable. They care nothing about you, or about anybody fro any region of Paloni except for the rich who they feed from. We were not satisfied to live in peace in our land, our ideals are naturally revolutionary and with a broad scope. Our largest dream is that one day they'll encompass the entire world to bring a new era for humanity, but I doubt I'll be alive once that happens. Like I said, Third Spanish States has developed economically incredibly fast after a few first years of toughness. There were no taxes, no government and some of us decided to go for free markets of cooperatives over communism. I don't want to be arrogant, but I can't deny that we grew from a worthless piece of land to an economic superpower and as one of the best in the world in information technology. Indeed computers are what allow we to have a sense of unity. We don't have a physical, coercive government, but we have a network where we as a whole try to reach a consensus on decisions which affect all of us. But back to the point, TdC can easily be compared with many multinational corporations regarding the wealth its members share equally, and we had a very large reserve accumulating for nothing. Then we heard the news about Paloni and Vaughn got an idea on how to invest all those credits. I went with the basic plan for convincing the population, Jason Trent with our self-sufficient defense plan and Vaughn with the administrative plan, and we got the backing of Third Spanish States should we face more than we can with our limited capabilities. The proposal was approved and we then used the money to buy the freedom of Kell. Now we are here, and it seems that we'll have to face again something like the government who... killed my father. There is something... I entered in depression once, and I found a false refuge in... drugs. I became addicted, and I went to buy drugs here... but I threw them out now, seeing how I foolishly gave to those who want me and my friends dead an excellent excuse. Now I am hiding from the police who was supposed to be on our side. And that is why I came here. It's good to see that I am not alone with my friends in this country, I can't stand the fact that a troupe of incompetents who sell their own people are rewarded and respected while people who try to make things right only have to end with this. Now... I know of psychology, but no matter how I tried, I can't stop the addiction"

Julie was in awe of the history of the life of Felicia, it was not aways that someone would simply barge and tell an entire tale of idealism, suffering, struggle, perseverance and success personally to a stranger. Plus, the reason why she was hiding also was mentioned, and there was nothing but to thank her for all:

"Felicia, I am really honored to have a person like you at my home. I understand all. If I could do anything to help you, I would, but I know nothing about addictions and how to treat them."

"Thanks anyway, I actually feel better to know there is at least one person in the world that I can trust to tell this despite never having met before. But you still could help me. Do you know where we could find allies we can trust? I, and my friends also, besides from most of the people of Kell, have only found powerful enemies here, and we need to find a way to... replace the police as soon as possible because we can't afford to have people we don't trust "enforcing the law""

"I... I had a boyfriend who rarely visited me, I think he was in the Republican underground, maybe they might see you on their side, and actually they are winning the conflict, or these... rulers wouldn't have sold most of their own country to people they knew nothing about. But to be honest, I don't see how it's possible to live without government. I hated what they did here, and I'm sure Paloni will be best as a Republic, but... what about crimes, about all the things people alone can't provide to themselves, roads, sewage, water treatment? How would all of this work?", Julie said, wondering on whether that Third Spanish States was all Felicia said it was rather than only a delusional Utopian dream.

"In communist places, everybody contributes with everything, voluntarily, so there is no need of separate public services departments. While in our free markets, all services are done by the private sector, but of cooperatives rather than corporations, and they provide it free of charge for those who really can't afford. Regarding police, everyone must be vigilant and it's everybody's duty to fight crime and be fair when stopping it, not something centralized into a single institution, it'll be difficult to get used to in the first months, but then you get used to the fact that rather than a cop, you have the guns of other honest people nearby and your own to protect you. Most of our agriculture is of subsistence and collectivized, and basic foods are considered too valuable to be commercialized, instead they belong and are an inalienable right for everyone, ensuring nobody will starve. Now, about this ex boyfriend of yours, what is his name? And Julie, do you know where he tended to hang at?", Felicia asked, shrugging as her mind envisioned the inhaling of cocaine, for the hangover was slowly becoming visible.

"I find it difficult for you to achieve all of that, but I will wait. His name is Harold Veeles, he has about a meter and seventy-six, brown eyes, a short red hair and a sort of bump on his forehead, he worked at Hudson Foods as a manager and the last night I went out with him was in "Fennel's Blue House", a nightclub which is at Jared Street, about 2 kilometers from here. You take the street straight until reaching the junction with an avenue, then turn right. Keep straight for about 12 squares then turn left at the next junction. Then just go straight and you will find the club. He used to hang there by Friday and Saturday nights like now, at more or less from this time to midnight"

Felicia shrugged: "Thanks, unfortunately although I lied about the carjack, I really don't a have a car, and the cops might still be out there. Now if you could... I am going to ask you a huge favor Julie Garnel, but it's really important, not only for me. It's the future of Kell that will be at stake, here, and neither of us want Kell being sold to something really horrible, which might happen until we can ensure a foothold to make full transition into anarchism, enough popular support and a few to recognized our independence. Could you let me in the back seat and give me a ride to there"

The woman seemed unsure on how to reply, it wasn't something that she wanted, to meet again Harold, not after all what he did, after the public humiliation he put her into following a certain dispute of jealous nature on a sort of informal beauty pageant. But somehow she was enchanted by Felicia's mannerisms and honest words, there was little she could do in thanks for the trust she put in her, for somehow at that moment Julie felt important, recognized and valued by someone of an institution which would otherwise become far away and walled from all but the richest. The reply came soon, and she hoped it wouldn't be a mistake as she got up from the sofa and guided Felicia to the garage with the car key in her hand. It was a simple car, of the discreet type which was exactly what Felicia needed at the moment. Felicia simply smiled as she took the key, and the documents of the car:

"I also am very thankful of you entrusting me with your own car. Your help, honesty and worth won't be forgotten Julie. I wish you a very good night, and at most, tomorrow morning you'll have your car back"

With the igniter on, the garage was then opened, and Felicia drove the car out. Following the instructions she received, she fortunately managed to avoid cops on her way, mixing into the middle of the traffic as she headed through the long main avenue, and like instructed, after a long way, took a turn to the left to an adjacent street and kept driving. A series of closed stores were spotted through the streets in that commercial are, until she finally found a neon sign in a blue-colored building which had an audible music coming from inside, it was the Fennel's Blue House she spoke of. In a parking lot, a clerk pointed her to a vacant space where she parked the car, leaving it and locking it with the alarm. She greeted the clerk and gave him a tip of 50 mutualist credits, which was probably more than a tenth of his wage. She entered inside the entrance of the club, where a bouncer informed her:

"Greetings visitor, I hope your tour through Fennel have been pleasant so far, Welcome to the Blue House, the best night club of the city, and an excellent place for tourism. Entrance is only 40 dollars."

With a bit of reluctance she paid the bouncer, but before she step further the bulky man cleared his throat and added:

"No guns are allowed inside, it is the house rule, could you give me your gun? Once you return you'll have it back right as it came", and she complied with it, handing to the bouncer her 10mm pistol, and he in turn replied: "Enjoy yourself!"

Walking through a corridor, she finally ended at the main hall of the club. It was a crowded place, blue as well and with a chess marble floor at a very 60s look, and somewhat seedy, although it was nowhere like Third Spanish States heavily liberal clubs, where a few people danced in underwear only, top-less or even completely naked for the sake of choice rather than for being paid for it. Or where there were "special rooms" for sexual intercourse and orgies. The music was just the run-of-the-mill trance beat, and it was nothing that Felicia enjoyed or focused at, she was instead looking around the crowd, the tables, most full and alike. Finally she found a red haired male sitting alone in a corner, with a cigarette in his mouth. She approached from the man, and politely asked him, with her German accent visible again:

"Mind if I take a seat?"

"Go right ahead, lady?"

"Felicia Jaumann, I actually came here looking for a businessman called Harold Veeles, I heard I could find him her now, I am a representative of the Vörtiger Agro-industries, and I see it as a good idea when it's possible to combine business with entertainment. I would like to discuss a possible joint-venture regarding the exports of a new, revolutionary hybrid seed we developed, incredibly resistant to most plagues, but we are still looking for interested parties as exclusive importers in our deals"

The man looked at Felicia, and perhaps he had winked to her so fast she only had the impression he did so, or perhaps not, and quickly replied:

"Mister Veeles is a busy man, but I can take you to him, he is an enterpreneur always looking for new opportunities, I can escort you to him, lady Jaumann"

Felicia nodded, and both got up to leave the club. When they were back at the front door, the bouncer gave her back her gun and gave her a quick farewell, and when she was coming towards her car, the man simply whispered to her:

"Don't! By this this time, if they didn't wire a bomb to it, they at least tapped it with all sorts of bugs! They know this club is a hideout, and they were about to make a raid when the new government came. Come with me, I know of somewhere safer", he said, surprising Felicia almost instantly, but she simply nodded and followed him, as they went through several alleys, until ending in the back of an old 7-store apartment, where both used the fire ladder to get up to its top, from where they observed the cityscape as finally Harold asked her:

"Your pistol isn't sold in anywhere in Paloni, you are from the new government with the make-believe prince, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am the... minister of Education or something close to that. I think you know why I am here. There are too many... reactionaries, who feel threatened by our, somewhat obvious willingness to abolish all traces of monarchy from Kell. We cannot remain here if even the police is going against us, probably bribed by The Man. We need some support, and we need it soon. And I believe that perhaps, the Republicans can be such support, because equally, once we stabilize, we could support the Republicans. Basically, a friend of a friend told me about you, and I need your help to contact the republican movement as a representative of the new, in truth democratic and progressive government."

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Day 2, 6:00 AM

After a long night, Edward Vaughn awakes prematurely, when much of the sky haven't even been brightened by the sunset and most of his friends were still sleeping, and as a sort of routine, he almost instantly takes his notebook to the left of his bed an put it over his lap, fighting against the pain of his wounds. He immediately used the local network to check for the latest news. First, hearing about the anarchists coming to Kell, he made a mental note to try to have them as supporters. However something else caught his attention more significantly, the "raid", if that could be called such way, for it was more like a massacre to intentionally taint his image, is something he immediately noticed as some nerves jump from his forehead and he shouts: "Traitorous fascist pigs in blue!", awakening immediately by his shout, Jason Trent arrives at his bedroom and asks, with a clear worry in his face:

"What did they do now?"

"Comrade Trent, I knew I shouldn't have given them another reason to backstab me! I should never have suggested to that snake to fight crime instead of wasting time! They went to the slums and summarily shot at everyone they found ahead without asking first, supposedly by my orders! We can't have things this way! We must find urgently some people that can be trusted! And at least, we must immediately begin the "re-engineering" of public institutions to clean the bureaucratic fat and throw some corrupts out! We can't sleep while our enemies are scheming. Could you wake up everybody Trent? I think we are going to have a long day... we can't delay any longer. It's just like buying Bavaria from Hitler during the early 1940s and having the GESTAPO as your police! We will have to disband the current police and have a provisional placeholder until the people learn to be self-sufficient in security. I, no, we will have that minister fired for this... atrocity, and if we discover he is involved with those reactionary scumbags, there will be only one way to deal with it, and we both know it."

Soon the large meeting hall, by now screened at least thrice for bugs, was full, with all the friends of Vaughn, except for Felicia, reunited to discuss the large issue of how to reconstruct the police. Eventually the structural process ended with an effective plan, including classes and training, to develop an hierarchy-less police force where such abuses would not be possible to be done by a single individual. Vaughn was indeed correct, that they could not simply reuse the previous structure, before effectively abolishing government, they would have to reshape it, and the cultural values of the government organizations, to the needs of such provisional government, planned to last, at worst, 6 months before being fully abolished. Other themes mentioned, that would be discussed in the next meetings of the day, were how to react to the responsibility of Paloni over the assassination attempts, how to start the program of transition at the educational level, something which would require Felicia's expertise, and how to acquire effective border defenses.

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

"Did you manage to establish contact with the council?", a shady figure asked by that morning inside a luxurious manor, where a cabal of nobles from Kell discussed how to ensure the continual maintenance of their privileges and status quo in face of the presence of the new threat of Edward Vaughn.

"Yes, it seems they already prepared everything much before we could. Of course, they took too little time to plan correctly their operation and failed, but we're not going to fail. Next week Vaughn and his "comrades" will be dead, but first we must prepare. They will be at full alert by now thanks to the foiled attempts, we must wait for them to get calmer... and then all we have to do is to find their weak spot... and with enough money, have this spot to kill them all, as you see in my analogy. I am sure that not all of them are that idealistic as they sound, and there may be someone who would not resist the temptation of what we can offer for betraying them. But first we must wait and observe them carefully, or we will never find this weak spot. Could you suggest to the council to stop trying to solve this issue through the least discrete and most inefficient ways?"

"Yes, I have suggested them already to stop sending assassins after Vaughn, when our plan although requiring a bit more of patience, will end being much more effective indeed, and also much more ironic. In the way Caesar fell, Vaughn shall also fall when the time is ripe for execution of our plan, and when we have enough information for this. Let's see if they agree with our plan, hopefully they will, because if they continue sending assassins like if there was no tomorrow, our plan will be severely foiled, we must try to give them the impression we gave up on trying to kill him, to loose their guard a bit."

And thus, the second day of the new government in Kell, and of the cabals against it, have begun. Much was yet to happen...

OOC Not a problem.

IC
A light wind rippled across the roof top, and rattled the dead flowers about their window boxes. Small fires spreading from the actions of the police raid could be seen across the city, they were small and scattered about the slums, but they twinkled where usually there was nothing. Harold sighed heavily and tried to smile weakly at the education minister. An idle finger began to scratch at the stucco that made the roof of the dingy apartment complex.

“The Republic means a lot to a lot of people. It means freedom, and a voice after years of silence.” The pulsating music coming from the street across the street seemed especially lour and repetitive in the silence. “Some people though, they hate the idea, the old guard, and those who never knew anything else could not stand republic. Though the crown is gone, the fundies have dug in for one last battle and done the ultimate heresy, and sold my homeland to foreign bastards.. Um no offense of course.” For a moment the music of the club changed, it very much seemed as if there was no noise accompanying it, and suddenly all the partiers had gone silent.

“A war is coming, it’ll be bad. I’m sure it won’t bother your lot though,” Harold smiled slightly and looked properly at Felicia for the first time, not in a rush as before or simply a place to rest his eyes as his mind unraveled but to actually see her. “In school, they would burn Republican literature on Anointment Day, in a huge bonfire, but when I was twenty-two, and the revolution started, General Greeves paid for a copy of Casa de La Pena, a Waldenburger had been trapped within Spain as the revolution started, and wrote down the things he saw, it wasn’t much, and probably not published hugely.

We flew it in, and shot down two jets for that book; must have killed dozens of men. And then the general read it, and then he passed it down the line. In those times we still didn’t have the numbers to fight open battles, so we had to stay up at night hand writing copies, no printer would take us on, and any one caught with the book was shot without trial. That’s what the Republic meant, and what we saw in the fall of the Spanish communes, the burial of the one-millionth child, and as conscripts fought street to street, we saw the future. But as we spread, and fought the monarchy saw the other side, the battles and bloodshed, and so on and so on.” Harold waved his hand dismissively around in wandering circles. “I was there when the barricades fell in Wittenschau, and when the Imperials came over the hills at us and cut us to pieces as we surrendered. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what freedom, or the fight for it means, but I do have to tell you that not everyone wants what we, the Republic want. I will arrange for whatever help you want, but I do not want the streets red with blood, not again.”

An explosion shook the slums and one of the ratty apartments collapsed on it’s self in a pillar of flame. “You probably get enough of the poor old soldier stuff so I’ll cut the shit, what do you want, and more specifically why are you here?” A small lump had gathered in his throat; Harold didn’t know if it was from old, best forgotten memories, or something else something fresh and new.

(OOC: I'll be posting what happens on day 2 later, this post is still technically in day 1, and I'm sorry if it doesn't match the same level of quality and depth of my other posts here because of its more limited scope)

The question arrived into Felicia's thoughts, striking, unexpectedly sooner than she was expecting. The way Harold suddenly asked it caught her unprepared for an immediate reply. For she was hoping he would tell her more first before it. The explosions around were unnerving, and yet again the police was working against them to seed chaos, death and suffering. Felicia sighed as she thought of the innocents who died on that rampage and crackdown of the fascist pigs. Perhaps, she wondered, they were looking for her, for perhaps they knew she was crucial to the development of the program which shall teach the people of Kell to be free. She simply laid down on the roof, looking at the stars. It didn't matter that her grey suit and skirt would get dirt, she simply had to relax a bit, something daring considering all that was happening around her. She pondered on his personal request of not seeing bloodshed again, but Felicia knew it wasn't something possible, for revolution and war cannot be separated one from another. She wisely knew it was not the best thing to tell everything to him, and have hidden many important bits of information as she finally was about to have an answer in her mind on his two questions, as if somehow the stars itself Felicia has observed attentiously for a while have enlightened her to come up with it.

"What do you want?", was the first question, something which although usually simple, in moments like this it is difficult to reply. If she told everything about what they wanted, the republicans could end indifferent or even hostile to their cause, as on her views they were still capitalists after all. If she told too little, help wouldn't be possible on the other hand, and thus she pondered...

"Why are you here?", is something which can be answered in many ways. She could simply explain why she is in Kell, or go into details about what led her to end in that place, although Felicia had no intentions to telling to him that his ex was the one who informed her of his existence as a member of the republicans and potential contact. Perhaps it was a trickier question to answer without giving away what would better be kept as secret for now but giving enough information to allow him to make a correct judgment of their character and of the rightfulness of their intentions.

Felicia had pondered for a few seconds on the answer, which was given in a swift but elaborate manner, and hopefully reaching the balance between not telling too much or too little. She finally got up again after watching the stars in the sky, and looked at the red-haired man, saying as her 1.78 meters tall figure was on foot:

"Harold, we have arrived here a few hours ago. We are still blind about who we can trust and who we can't. Even a doctor from a public hospital sought to attempt murdering my friend, Edward. The fact is that neither I nor my friends trust the staff of the previous government structure, but at the same time, I can't say all of them are corrupts, maybe some are simply misguided rather than being actively involved in these conspiracies which have already began against us. It would be much better to ensure the freedom and future democracy for Kell if we had an exact list of all the known corrupts and butchers inside governmental agencies. And not only that, but also of all private business which support the ancient regime, specially broadcasting companies. We cannot allow them to have domain over the most important weapon which is control over information. It would be simpler to simply disband the government, fire everyone and build all the State from scratch, but that would not only be much more expensive, but also harm the economy of Kell and give an excellent tool of propaganda for our enemies to use. I am sure you know more the enemies we both share than us. Thus the first thing I ask is the names of the corrupt and enemies of democracy and freedom, and specially of their leaders who are still active inside Kell. The other thing I would like to ask, for now, is for you and your comrades to indicate more adequate personell to replace the crooks, for Kell will soon function as a republic rather than principality, and we need the right people for that. In quick words: I want names, of both those who shouldn't be in the government agencies and of those who are fitting for replacing them."

With a brief interruption, before he could answer, Felicia pointed to the direction of the burning building in the slums and clearly her expression wasn't happy at all. Her answer to the second question thus game:

"The remains of the former government are doing a crackdown to attempt destabilizing and overthrowing us, as you can see. A coup d'etat is happening right at this moment to bring Kell back as a monarchy or worse, to sell it again shamelessly to a fascist police State where foreigners are treated as slaves. I couldn't simply sit behind a desk like a bureaucrat and hide behind rows of bodyguards while the people are suffering and dying as the enemies of democracy make their last struggles against progress, with the noticeable violence. Right at this moment a former noble might be conspiring against us, talking with his cronies across Paloni and even coordinating efforts among some of the new, completely illegitimate governments which were established following the cowardice and incompetence of selling the sovereignty of one's own nation as a merchandise, as I am afraid most will support Paloni, after all they did. If I could now, like I said to Edward, I would get the entire money we used to "purchase" the freedom of Kell back, seeing as they did not respect their part of the agreement, and use it against them. We are alone here. The primary reason I am here now is that I need to find allies and friends we can trust, for many snakes are slithering across Kell and the entire Paloni, waiting for the opportune moment to attack us. I am sure of it. I am here as well to confirm our support to your cause, once we managed to wash away the last vestiges of monarchism from Kell. These are the reasons is why I am here"

Brushing her hair with her own hands, Felicia then came to the decisive question, which would, in her hopes, be answered positively by Harold. It would be a great relief to have at least one assured ally, for now, in the middle of so many snakes, and with all the charisma Felicia could transmit, she tried to make from the question an attempt of persuasion as well.

"Now that I hope that your questions were answered satisfactorily, mister Harold, all I have is a single question for you, it is a very important question, and I believe its answer shall be entwined with the fate of Kell and of Paloni itself. Will you help us to solve our large problems?"

OOC: Hrm... I thought I had purchased Kell. Guess not...

“You must gave gathered by now that I am not an intelligent man, not a leader certainly. The Republic needs all the men it can get, and if that includes me than all the better for everyone, but I can promise you one thing, the Republic is not nice either.” Harold fumbled around with a coat pocket for a moment trying not to look embarrassed in the moment of time it took to dig through all of his pockets. Eventually he pulled out a picture and proffered it to Felicia.

“It’s Victory day, about three weeks ago, the Republican guard captured the Fourth Imperial Army Group as it retreated from Wittenshcau.” In tiny black and white the picture spoke volumes as armed horseman galloped up and down columns of naked men, on either side of the road little lumps marked where the captured had fallen and not sat up. “We marched them through the mountains for three days, without rest or food, I am told the frostbite took everywhere, those that died while not lucky certainly had a few less problems.”

Harold took the picture back gently, folded it and slid it back into his pocket. “Atrocities happen to those who seek them. We will help you, though I don’t have the authority to say that, we will, and Kell will more than likely become a staging point and counterweight for the Republican army to swing through this continent. For your services you will be left alone, to rule, or not, as you see fit, but the atrocities will keep on going. I don’t like blood, and have seen far too much of it. There is a Republic now and more monarchies than there were before, it seems everyone should be happy, but something happens and we’re back in arms. You’ll excuse me of course, I ramble.” Overhead, in the night sky, which was turning brightly to morning, the roar of jet fighters could be heard and their sonic boom shook the windows of the building below.

“Republican, Kell doesn’t have that many. “ Harold commented as if suddenly furious, “they must have heard about Vaughn, or seen the fires, how news travels quickly.” With a beckoning hand Harold motioned Felicia over to the lee of a heating shack, as if to protect them from falling bombs. One there the two were squeezed together and Harold could feel the woman’s breath on his face. “We will get you your lists,” Harold whispered gently, “what you do with them is completely up to you, as it always will be, but maybe just maybe you’ll burn them? It doesn’t matter no it doesn’t matter. But just a few words, trust no one; the cockades in our make little difference when there are fortunes to be made.” Overhead the jets passed again, roaring over in vanguards of ten and four deep, fanning out over the city.

“There is a cease fire in effect between the Republican Army and the Council, it seems it’s over. If there is nothing else, I will be in contact, and I’ll have a man see to the car. We’ll have your list in a day or two.”