NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: The OOC thread can be found here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=573261)

IC:

Klosterstadt, Austrasia, near the border with Gottwald
8 days before the outbreak of war

A cool breeze was blowing off of the southern sea, brushing through the leaves and tall, dry grass. Piles of somber, gray clouds hung about the area, propelled by the wind at a plodding pace. They cast forlorn shadows over the city of 70,000, chasing people off the streets and into the warmth of their hearths. Despite the weather, some die-hard members of the local townspeople milled about the central square, chatting away with friends and family as they waited for the convoy to round the bend. It was not every day that a foreign dignitary visited the area, especially since the odd border skirmish with Gottwald had begun. To have one of their princes show himself was a truly unusual event.

The sound of clattering hooves announced the arrival of the newcomers well before they could be seen. From around the corner of the local sweetshop came the tall, proud form of an Austrasian cavalryman, firmly astride his warhorse. The crowd flocked about him, clapping their arms to keep warm. Behind the rider came Gottwalder uhlans, fists clenched about their lances, thick, ruddy beards thrust in front of them. They, in turn, escorted a heavy wooden carriage bedecked with wreathes and bunting. Sitting in pillowed luxury was the wife of the prince, along with her handmaidens, all of them resplendent in fine cloth dresses. As the carriage rolled past the crowd anxious hands reached out to touch the stained wood, rubbing fingers over grooves set there a century ago. Bringing up the rear of the convoy was the man of the hour. Prince Lutz Thorshafn sat perched upon the back seat of his motor sedan, flanked by six uhlans and a contingent of Austrasian infantry.

Whipped into a frenzy by strategic agents placed by both concerned governments, the crowd cheered wildly, tossing bouquets of local flowers to the passing soldiers amid clouds of chilled breath. One of the uhlans caught a bouquet thrown to him, beaming to the crowd as he lashed it to the metal spike atop his gleaming picklehaube. Not all faces in the mob were pleased to see the prince, however, and as the convoy passed a few broke away, tailing the vehicles through the narrow streets of Klosterstadt. Soon the town would see blood, a prelude for things to come.

The horizon grows darker by the hour. Tensions flare across the continent and Lamiglia is barely capable of defending herself against internal strife, much less wage a world war. To defend herself, Lamiglia will need to rely upon her position as a 'bread basket' for her trade partners. Despite her agricultural output, Lamiglia is threatened by the behemoth to the West, Nervrad, and her sprawling fields. Should Lamiglia's position as a key supplier of food to nations across the continent be challenged, her key to safety would be lost. It was for this reason that the Council of Nobles dispatched a team of three Knights of the Council to Austrasia, where Prince Lutz Thorshafn of Gottwald was touring.

Klosterstadt, Austrasia
8 days before the outbreak of war

Michael pulled his hood closer to his face to fight the chill as he walked briskly down a main street in Klosterstadt. The brazenness of the Gottwalder parade was astounding, but not surprising. Nobles had never really had much tactical sense, in Michael's experience, and Prince Thorshafn was no different. Pomp and circumstance had lead the Prince to ride atop an open motor vehicle, and he was practically begging for the Knights to assassinate him. Without looking to either side, Michael knew that his two comrades were with him, as they should be, spaced far enough to appear inconspicuous, yet near enough to react to any event. Just within sight ahead, the Prince's motor car trailed the parade, surrounded by a mob of cheering admirers. From somewhere within the confines of his robe, Michael pulled an (ironically) Gottwalder weapon with which he had been trained with from infancy. His training took over, years of conditioning to eliminate all variables from the equation which were unnecessary. He forgot the need to frame Nervrad for the assassination; that would come later. Now, his entire world consisted of trigger and target. A deep breath, and Michael's finger squeezed, releasing a flow that none could know would trigger a world war.

At that moment, Michael's comrades had pulled their triggers as well. Their trained eyes watched as mayhem unfolded before them. Something had gone terribly wrong. Perhaps they had underestimated the uhlans. As soon as their shots were fired, the once statuesque guards had come alive. Prince Lutz was thrown to the floor of his vehicle, and Michael's left comrade's bullet struck an uhlan instead. By this point, the remaining uhlans had returned fire, striking each of the Knights fatally. Before his death, Michael took sweet satisfaction in the location that his bullet found. Piercing the ancient wood of the carriage preceding the Prince's car, a high scream of death was audible even to Michael's failing ears. Perhaps their mission hadn't been in vain.

He slipped into darkness, unmarked body destined for an unmarked grave, an unfitting end for the wielder of a bullet so influential.

Klosterstadt, Austrasia
8 days before the outbreak of war

Those shots would indeed resound through history, forever guilty for the millions of deaths that followed. But, as of the moment, no one suspected this. They only knew that the heir to the Gottwalder throne had been shot and seriously injured, or even worse, killed.

The crowd, always one to be manipulated by it's feelings, rushed the bodies of the assassins, trying to get a hold of so as to hang, kill or quarter them, with the intent of putting them on display later on or surrendering them to the police, no one knew for certain. On the other side, the Austrasian policemen that had been escorting the Prince's motor-carriage were forced to charge head on into the mob, so as to rescue the bodies and count with at least some evidence in the investigation that would soon follow the attack on the Gottwalder Prince.

On the other side, the cavalrymen accompanying the royal caravan, having witnessed everything, decided to take the Prince to a hospital as fast as they could, not knowing if His Majesty was still alive, they got off their horses and went to get him (without knowing or caring how the Uhlans would react).

Freibachstrasser, capital of Gottwald
4 days before the outbreak of war

The assassination of Princess Amalie Thorshafn-Boxberg sent shockwaves through Gottwalder society. She had been a not-so-subtle calming influence on Prince Lutz, who now lay in a coma in a military hospital. Her loss brought a sense of numb disbelief in the first days after it happened. Condolences had been wired to her family by dignitaries from a variety of different counties, pouring in as the reality of the situation set in. The biggest effects of the disaster, though, were yet to be seen.

Of course the first question in the minds of Gottwald was, “why?” followed by, of course, “who?” The government was far more interested in the latter, although finding an answer was not proving to be a simple matter. The bodies of the assassins were in no shape to divulge any answers, having been looted and dragged through the streets of Klosterstadt by an angry populace. Nevertheless, an investigation was immediately launched, hoping to catch any collaborators that might not have been killed in the initial exchange of gunfire.

“It must have been Austrasia,” Duke Franz Holzinger snorted, “who else would have motivation to do this?” There was a general consensus with the duke’s accusations, which even the most ardently pro-Austrasian citizens would have to admit to suspecting. After all, the attack had been carried out in an Austrasian city against royals who were known for taking hard stances against the neighboring state.

“But can we prove that?” Archduke Frederich Thorshafn questioned.

“I have seen all the proof I need,” chimed in Duke Otto Gotke, thrusting out a finger towards the large map that dominated the lone table in the room. It landed on a red splotch, the symbol that denoted a border skirmish had taken place there recently. The implication was clear. “Nevertheless,” the duke continued, “we must consider another posibility, Your Lordship. Perhaps this was not just an Austrasian act? What if they had help?” The archduke narrowed his eyes.

“What are you implying?”

“I am implying nothing, only suggesting that Crowe has been quite friendly with our neighbors to the east as of late and would stand to gain much if…” A cloud worked its way across the archduke’s visage.

“Leave me,” he ordered. His tone said that he would brook no further conversation or objection. In short order he was alone. Slowly, almost contemplatively he picked up two pewter figures from a drawer in the side of the table. They were simple casts of riflemen used to denote the movement of troops during wartime, but they would work just as well symbolically. One of the figures Archduke Frederich placed on top of Austrasia, the other, Crowne.

St. Adriansburg, Capitol of Stahlava
4 days before the outbreak of war

A disaster. A complete and bloody disaster was the only way to describe the situation now. Despite being hundreds if not thousands of kilometers away, the assassination of Princess Amalie Thorshafn-Boxberg sent deep and tremulous reverberations throughout the nation of Stahlava. While the official telegram confirming the attempt arrived almost two days after it had taken place, vicious rumours had infected Stahlava's people long before. Even the most optimistic and good hearted citizens had to admit that this was only an omen for worse things to come. However, even the most ardent pessimists could hardly foresee the carnage that the future would bring.

Despite his aching bones, Grand Duke Adrian I paced nervously through the Imperial Palaces' gleaming corridors. His once pristine hair and mustache were now wild and frayed while his emerald green uniform was coated in coffee stains and tobacco. He had not slept for at least two days and his eyes and cheekbones were as dark and sullen as a dark crypt. However, his mind was more alive then it had ever, ever been before. For entire sleepless nights he had remained in his private study; trying to make sense of the sheer madness that had gripped the world since 'the' assassination. He had had almost seven meetings with his equally disheveled and tired Barons and Generals to discuss reasons why exactly this travesty had occurred and who exactly were the bastards responsible. In every meeting, one word echoed throughout the chambers in eerie resonance...Austraisa.

Angry and feeling helpless, Grand Duke Adrian I ran his white gloved hands through his greasy hair and glared at the assembled nobles in the room. Even the almost infectiously optimistic Baron Mackersfeld knew these meetings were going nowhere.

"I know this 'incident' has been difficult upon all of us, but we must see this situation through eyes of reason not blind fear." Grand Duke Adrian I hissed impatiently. Hopefully, the others would note the change of tone in his voice.

"We all agree with you your highness," Admiral Ornoff responded calmly, "but you must understand that we cannot brush this issue off of our shoulders like an irritating insect." Others nodded in agreement, while a handful, Baron Mackersfeld included, remained defiantly at the Grand Duke's side.

"Naturally Gottwald will respond to this event with less then peaceful methods your highness," Ornoff continued hesitantly, "a war between Gottwald and Austrasia will involve us to a degree." General Vladimir von Gurenburg nodded before rising from his polished oak seat. In his gloved hands he held a nondescript brown paper folder.

"If our information is to be followed, then almost every nation nearby has begun a massive buildup in preperation of an inevitable conflict. Under unanimous agreement from seven of the ten nobles in our glorious nation, I and my staff have taken the liberty of sending three full regiments to our southern border and and four to our north. I have also begun a large rearmament campaign to ensure all of our active and reserve units have all supplies and weapons necessary to wage war."

The Grand Duke remained silent, but flashed a quick smile at General Gurenburg. While he would have scolded any other man for such an act without his authority, Adrian knew that this was exactly what he would have done.

Adler-Schloss, capital of Austrasia
4 days before the outbreak of war

So far, the investigation had had no definitive results, all the Imperial Police knew was limited to two facts, one, that the man responsible for the Princess's death was a trained man and two, he was a foreigner and used Gottwalder weapons. The latter made it quite suspicious, rumours of the Archduke disapproval's of his son's wife soon made their way to the streets and soon turned into an elaborate conspiracy theory.

That was it, there were no more clues nor leads, Imperial Intelligence was also working as fast and hard as they could, but they were not allowed to investigate gentlemen of social stature, as the Emperor put it "Gentlemen don't read other gentlemen's mail". However, one thing they had noticed was the massive Gottwalder mobilization on Austrasian borders.

This did not mean that the Austrasians had not prepared themselves, oh no, Feldmarschall Von Aszenmil had ordered every available troop in Austrasia so as to protect every inch of sacred Austrasian soil from their many [expected] foes. Nationalism was at it's peak, and the rumours did nothing to help.

Imperial Palace,
4 days before the outbreak of the war

The Feldmarschall made his way through the long corridors, the walls were decorated with hundreds of trophies, obtained by his Imperial Majesty on his many hunting trips, military exercises (although he was always allowed to win) and, ironically enough, skirt chasing. Certainly not a conduct fit for the self-called gentleman. Still, he was the Emperor, and Von Aszenmil had to follow his orders, at least for the moment.

A small detachment of the Palace Guards stood by the library's doors, guarding His Imperial Majesty, he nodded at them and was allowed inside. The Emperor was sitting on an ornate chair, inlaid with gold and precious stones, a throne fit for one of the most powerful men in Earth.

Von Aszenmil bowed, taking great care to push his sword aside, so as to avoid the 'Thud' that would accompany it hitting the floor.

"Your Majesty, you called for me?"

"Indeed, I have. Please, tell me Feldmarschall, what is this I hear about a war with Gottwald?"

"Sire, I have been informed by the Imperial Intelligence that the Gottwalders have mobilized a large portion of their army to our common border, this is surely proof of their vile intentions."

"I shall hear no more, we will not go to war against Gottwald, my dear cousin is married to their leader, Archduke Thorshafn. I will not tolerate any aggression on our side."

"But, My Lord, we cannot afford to be caught by surprise, the consequences to our international esteem and the massive loss of confidence in His Majesty's government would be terrible..."

"I said no, Feldmarschall, and I expect my orders to be followed."

"Sire, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I have been informed by trusted sources that a subversive movement known as 'Ron Karl's Army' could try to stage a coup, this would be the perfect distraction."

"What is this you say about those..." and the Emperor spat the last word "Communists?"

"We need to be ready, both on the foreign and home front. If the Gottwalders want war, they shall have one, we would never be the aggressors."

"You speak the truth, very well, carry on."

"As you wish, Your Majesty. With your permission, I'll go consult with the Generalstab."

"Permission granted, now go."

Von Aszenmil bowed again, cursing silently at the idiot he had for a leader, he would need to be dealt with sooner or later.

Lamiglia Declares Neutrality!
Council of Lords Offers Foodstuffs to Warring Nations

The Lamiglian Council of Lords conferred today to discuss the storm clouds of war building over the continent. The assassination of Gottwalder Princess Amalie Thorshafn-Boxberg has ignited deep seated tensions across the continent, but nowhere more so than between Austrasia and Gottwald. These tensions have echoed even among the nobles of Lamiglia, who fear the repercussions of a continent wide war. Lord Antonio Martin addressed the press from Antus Manor:

"We must take this chance to make completely clear Lamiglia's stance of neutrality in the obviously forthcoming strife. The tolls of war are exorbitantly high, and it remains a truth that while the rich declare wars, it is the poor who must fight them. With this in mind, we first implore all sides involved in the current tensions to exhaust all possible outlets before resorting to violence, and secondly implore those in power to remember the needs of the underprivileged despite the war. Conflict destroys infrastructure first of all, and the nations of this continent will soon face shortages of goods essential to life itself. It is for this reason that the nation of Lamiglia will remain neutral in any conflict to come that does not directly involve the feudal states themselves, in order to provide a steady, protected source of as-cheap-as-profi... erm... possible food stuffs to any nation desiring them."

Stahlava Declares Support For Gottwald!

In a highly unexpected move, the Grand Duchy of Stahlava declared its full support for the nation of Gottwald in the event of a war between her neighbor Austraisa. However, Grand Duke Adrian I of Stahlava has also implored that all diplomatic venues be used in stead of open violence. Despite this claim, the Stahlavan military has mobilized 12 regiments, approximately 12,000 men, to immediately come to Gottwald's aid. This newly founded "Stahlavan Expeditionary Brigade" will apparently form the backbone of Stahlavan-Gottwald military cooperation.

This event also comes hot on the heels of Stahlava's declaration to defend her borders in event of war with her much larger northern neighbor. This speech was backed by the reinforcement of almost 15 regiments along Stahlava's northern and western borders.

Nanmarkt, Gottwald, near the border with Crowne
3 days before the outbreak of war

Field Marshal Gottfried Lechnerr pocketed his field goggles, pulling his greatcoat tighter about him. The fortified city of Nanmarkt was five miles from the border with The Republic of Crowne and on a clear, cold autumn day like this the tiny villages that dotted the countryside were clearly visible. A crunch of boots on gravel announced the arrival of a messenger. “Herr Field Marshal,” he saluted in the breeze, “a telegram from Freibachstrasser.” Lechnerr turned away from the vista before him, signaling for one of his entourage to take the note from the messenger.

“Thank you, private.” The young man handed the folded paper to the closest officer, saluted again and backed away. After a perfunctory glance, the note was passed to Lechnerr, who opened it at once. No trace of emotions showed on his face as he read the message. Once he was finished, he refolded the paper, passed it to a liutenant and turned back to the view of Crowne. After a moment he turned back. “The Grand Duchy of Stahlava has made its intent known to assist us in our endeavors.”

“What precisely does that entail, Herr Field Marshal?” asked one of his aides. The marshal glanced at him sidelong before withdrawing his binoculars again.

“It means that in less than a week’s time we can expect to be speaking through translators with our Stahlavan allies while drinking captured Crowne lager.” He was cut off as a train rumbled past, on its way to pick up another load of soldiers from the garrison town, but everyone present knew exactly what he meant.

Nervrad Neutral!
The Heavenly Tsardom displays its intent "To Purse Peace"

Slavagrad. The Nervradian Foreign Office has made a statement of neutrality public yesterday night. After a series of closed-door discussions in Parliament with His Majesty present, Nervrad has officially distanced herself from the happenings in Gottwald and the recent round of troop movements. Constantine Viacheslav III stated "It is sad to see great nations take the course which seems to lead to war, we can only hope that they are steered back into line by their own conviction".

Upon consultation, this newspaper was unable to yield a comment from the Nervradian Ministry of War, apart from a simple "This conflict will not be our fight". The consensus in Nervrad, among experts and intelligentsia, is that war will happen within two to three weeks. "Hopefully nothing will come of it, but ancient rivalries and present saber-rattling will most likely lead to some sort of armed conflict in the following weeks." Vaysilev Petrovich, chairman of the Army League, explained to our investigators.

Our Majesty made a final plea to "Follow the word of God to prosperity and mutual co-operation", we would be fortunate if these claims did not fall on deaf ears.


---------------
Slavagrad, Capital of the Glorious Heavenly Tsardom of Nervrad,
3 days before the outbreak of war

The gleaming floor of the vast hall of the Imperial Palace could barely be seen. Normally a wonder to behold, the Nervradian Imperial Palace and its wonderful architecture were considered a wonder of engineering, as well as a perfect example of reckless spending. One could only see the marvelous ceiling now, covered in gold inlays and intricate artwork, however, nobody was looking at the ceiling. The mass of people was moving in every possible direction, shuffling to offices and meeting rooms, for the Tsar had called for a reunion of the most important statesmen and officers, and these, of course, in proper Nervradian tradition, had brought dozens of aides with them.

In the principal meeting room, as over-decorated as the rest of the palace, maps and charts had been put against the wall, covering the ancient murals which told stories of the formation of Nervrad. The vast circular table was filled with field marshals, grand admirals, various ministers, and lower classes of the military, all seats were occupied except for one, the biggest and most extravagant one.

"All stand for His Imperial Majesty, the Tsar!"

The chairs were carefully pushed backwards as the men stood, the Tsar hated the sound of furniture scraping on the floor. The heavy, polished wood doors opened, and in came Constantine Viacheslav III, as gracious as ever, with his aura of importance and strength accompanying him as always.

"Sit, sit."

Leonid Illarionovich remained standing, as Prime Minister, he could certainly do this. He stood silent, waiting for the permission to speak. Constantine rose his hand, signaling Leonid, that was all that was needed.

"Your Majesty, we shall move to the most pressing issue first: Stahlava has mobilized an undetermined amount of men towards our frontiers, at least 10,000 men in each direction, our intelligence estimates."

Grand Marshal of the Army, Filipp Krylov, spoke out of order, as usual. The Tsar however, liked his decisiveness and honest outbreaks.

"Can we stop worrying about Stahlava? They are not a threat! Our forces in the region outnumber theirs, and we would most certainly win in a defensive fight!"

"Another interruption, I see," replied Leonid, annoyed but used to Filipp by now, "The mere fact that they're moving troops is a threat, we have no qualm with the Stahlavans,"

"Exactly"

Leonid rose his tone: "BUT they're paranoid as always, and theres always the issue of Trombsk, and its isolated position with regards to Stahlavans."

"Quite sorry to interrupt, my dear colleagues," Grand Admiral Sergei Kuroyedov made his way into the conversation "But Trombsk can be easily supplied by sea, our navy outmatches the Stahlavan by a fair margin."

"Of course, but I still maintain my position that this nation is a threat," Leonid was quickly realizing that his position was becoming unsustainable. "And-"

"If I may interject, my dear Leonid."

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty" Leonid took a deep bow in recognition of Constantine's words.

"I do not consider the Stahlavans to be a threat, in any case of conflict, I think sinking their navy and shelling their ports would be more than enough to get them back into place. Their small force cannot dislodge our own forces, and Trombsk is peppered with countless fortifications. Those poor people live in a constant state of paranoia, they're more than ready to resist anything short of a full assault by the entire Stahlavan military. I do not believe the Stahlavans could stomach such a Pyhrric victory. Yes? Leonid?"

Filipp had raised his hand, he might butt into anyone else's speech, but certainly not the Tsar's, "I concur, your Majesty, I believe, however, that there is a threat, and it is here:" Filipp pointed to the Gottwald-Crowne-Nervrad border. "War is looming, and we must be prepared."

Not to be outdone by the Marshal, Leonid made his way into the conversation: "I do believe that Lamiglia is not a threat at all, but that special attention must be paid to the situation in Gottwald. I do not believe that Crowne is to be trusted either. They've always placed an important military presence on our borders."

The Tsar spoke again, "Indeed, I feel that for the moment, we must bide our time. However, I will order a general maintenance of the inventory of the Army and Navy, and we will make sure all equipment is in running order. This shall take a few weeks, but if the need for reservists truly comes, we must make sure our stocks are in order."

The debate would continue to more intricate matters of particular troop placements, these and other more detailed topics would hold the whole room in debate until the sun went down.

Setarian Sea, 50 kilometers off the coast of Stahlava
2 days before the outbreak of war

Like steel-clad monsters of legend, the Stahlavan transport ships and their escorts cut through the water gracefully with their gleaming prows. The entire force was composed of 15 troop ships, 5 pre-dreadnought battleships, and Stahlava's first and only dreadnought. While the Stahlavan Imperial Navy certainly was not the best in the world, many of the Imperial Army soldiers were shocked to find how clean and well maintained each of the vessels was. Following the Army's example, the Imperial Navy had opted to go with quality over quantity when it came to the fleet. Indeed, the dreadnought SNS Karlburg was one of the best designed and crewed vessels in the world. The troop ships on the other hand were squat, long, and narrow vessels which could house a fairly large proportion of soldiers.

"A fine sight wouldn't you say?" Inquired Brigadier General and current head of the SEB, Peter Cralevic, to a nearby aide. The aide, a pale and skinny man in his early thirties named Rilke; shifted his gaze from the map on the table to the large glass windows on the bridge.

"Indeed sir, a fine sight indeed." Rilke said halfheartedly. He was as strict and focused like a rifle bullet and had little time for the petty small talk that the Brigadier General so enjoyed. Rilke nothing short of hated Brigadier General Cralevic. Not because of his attitude or disposition, both of which were excellent, but because he had robbed him of his only chance at being a big shot in the Imperial Army. Rilke had been only moments away from being promoted to Captain in his old regiment when some bastard of a Colonel decided he would serve better as an adjutant.

While that event happened almost five years ago, he still felt hate and jealousy flow through his veins.

Rilke was quickly snapped out of his day dream when the Brigadier General approached the table and elbowed him hard on the back.

"Excellent work Rilke! I knew I could count on an aide like you to get things done." congratulated Cralevic. Despite all his ill-feelings toward the Brigadier General, Rilke felt pride in his work.

"Thank you sir", Rilke spoke and saluted, "I had been studying maps of Gottwald and the surrounding areas for the majority of the morning." Rilke pointed a pale finger at a red mark on the map labeled "Ornmark".

"That is where we disembark. Am I correct?" Cralevic said with shocking speed. Rilke nodded before moving his finger slightly to the northwest.

"Here is where we are to report to the Gottwalder High Command." Rilke interjected at another red point on the map, this one without a label. Cralevic nodded before taking a sip of wine from his almost empty glass. He got up from the table and wandered over to the large glass windows that he had been looking through previously. Gottwald was a long way off, so he might as well enjoy the view.

The bourgeois wage wars to divide the proletariat, to blind them from the real enemy as they force the poor to fight for the maintenance of their wealth and privilege, taken from the exploitation of surplus-value to the strengthening of the divides between nations with their inglorious deaths for a greedy cause no man should die for. We are only one people, only one race, and no matter which language our comrades speak in other lands, we share the same plight. To contribute with the reactionary squabbling, with the delusions of nationalism propelling the essence of capitalism, which is to oppress the weak with the might of wealth or guns, is to support the enemies of the proletarian class. The People's Republic must not let its prosperity dwindle in a war of bourgeois interests, where regardless of which side wins, the people will suffer a defeat in the loss of innocent lives, so a few dozen of vagabonds and reactionaries can purchase the double of luxuries they did before. We will not support this unjust, inhuman, bourgeois war where the children of the poor are sent to die for the wealthy, while the privileged sons of the reactionary and bourgeois swines of Gottwald and Australasia remain at home, thriving from the luxuries they have conquered from the hard work of others they had no right to usurp. May the proletariat of these nations unite against their counter-revolutionary war before they die in vain.

Blanquigradd, capital of Soviet Steam
2 days before the outbreak of war

A black smog filled much of the cityscape, covering many of its typical six to eight-store tall brown brick buildings, where simple elevators ascended and descended to allow for their inhabitants to reach other floors. In large glass terraces, the only greenery of the city stood, as small gardens and parks protected from the outside pollution which were visited by many. The streets were nearly empty, and completely devoid of pedestrians as beneath them, large underground passageways stood with pavements at its sides for the pedestrians, and trams came from and to four railways on the center. It was ironic that the devices used to keep away the unclean air from indoors required an entire coal powerplant in the proximities of the city. One of dozens responsible for its way of being. There were no slums, fortunately, and people had comfortable lives despite how the frightening progress of the last decades of industrial revolution coupled with the carelessness of the former government with the welfare of its people led to the formation of such city. Externally it was an horrible place to live at, but enclosed by the safety of indoors, its people could breath a relatively pure air, and find remains of nature in closed compounds.

Outdoors were rarely visited however, and gas masks were issued to workers and people who had to travel through them for the sake of their own healths. The reactionary, of which most have no idea of what hard work means, said that with equality nobody would be motivated to work, for no longer they would be coerced into tyranny and oppression of the Capital. They were wrong, for in Soviet Steam, people received something priceless for their work: recognition. There were no mansions, no luxury suites, no chateaus, just like there were no majority of slums and miserable homes with horrible living conditions. The people were healthier than in most other nations, but there was one problem.

Not all capitalist pigs and monarchist reactionaries have been crushed by the will of the people, and groups, hidden, were known to seek to destroy all that was achieved, so that they could again become rich at the expense of the misery of the majority. Rather than executed, many of them have been exiled, forced to live in neighbor bourgeois nations with nothing so they could experience poverty and the oppression of the Capital and learn the lesson, to eventually return asking for forgiveness, sick and starving as they witnessed the wonders of capitalism. Some of those who were exiled and sent to Cromwell have asked to be accepted back, many sent straight to hospitals such was the level of starvation they have suffered.

The People's Court believes that even the worst bourgeois have a chance of being rehabilitated by experiencing the plight of those he has exploited in the past, and very few executions have happened during the course of the last years. People were free to speak what they thought, to organize, to choose their profession, to create art with no censorship. The Communist Party, despite only allowing the people to vote directly for the mayors of their cities, was assured of the superiority of the Communism, and considered censorship the tool of exploiters to keep the underclasses at bay. Somehow, power has not corrupted their peculiar system of government, and in many ways, people were freer than in supposed "democracies" that were nothing but shams of a plutocratic government. Universal suffrage, women's rights and many things much ahead of the reactionary religious conservatism of other nations existed.

At least four airships could be seen during most of the day flying through the city, with their distant gondolas not obscured by the smog. An airship port stood at the far southwest of the city, and a significant part of its transportation, mainly of goods which were easy to spoil, went through air.

Such is Soviet Steam, and in its capital, Blanquigradd, one building stands above all. A construction tall enough to get past the smog, the official government building of the Federal government, where each dictator would accomplish the duties of his or her four-year term. Looking into a map of the continent, a man focused his attentions at the border between Gottwald and Australasia. The room was mostly undecorated and essentially practical, having little more than a few photographs of the revolution that toppled the former Empire of the Iron Sun. There was no paintings, no statues of any leader or past leader. There was a large table, which could be sectioned in four according to convenience, where a set of maps were laid down. An important-looking military officer, dressed in a red suede jacket, emblazoned by the revolutionary symbol, not much unlike those wore by officers in the past century, looked at the map, focusing on the border between Crowne and the People's Republic.

"Comrade Zakharov, why do we export airships for the false democracy of Crowne? They are no threat to our revolution, but aren't we indirectly contributing with the maintenance of their reactionary government?"

Yevgeni, who looked at the border between Gottwald and Australasia in another map, turned around as he came to address the Marshall. The goal of exporting airships and electric devices was to essentially create dependence, and he knew why the choice to establish at least slightly positive relations with the Republic of Crowne:

"Comrade-Marshall, Crowne is a peaceful nation endangered by many neighboring interests, which provides much of our coal, oil and ensures our plentifulness of food. It is also a republic, which means that, no matter how essentially counter-revolutionary and ineffective it would be, a Communist Party could participate of the elections. Think about it comrade: if Crowne is invaded, and we liberate it, their people would embrace our revolutionary cause! If we already have positive relations with them, think on how our Union of Soviets could expand? This war that looms is of no importance to us, but should we be able to liberate the defeated from annexation, we would have enough influence and prestige to stage nearly bloodless revolutions afterwards. For now however, let us wait."

"I understand your logic, comrade." the Marshall answered back, as he browsed the map. He seemed satisfied with the answer. For just like a war served to divide the workers, it also presented opportunities of their own. "Now, on the matter of our borders with Crowne, I have this quick deployment plan, should things go as we hope and the sovereignty of Crowne depend of our support alone. Likewise, I believe that our western, and specially eastern borders are more strategically important than our border with Crowne. I suggest we reduce the military presence in that border by on the barely necessary to patrol possible infiltration attempts of spies in our glorious internationalist civilization."

"Very well Comrade-Marshall, I agree with you. It is doubtful that Crowne would allow free passage to an invader, and our western and easter borders are wider and more difficult to control. Also, has the cancellation of the automaton warrior research occurred? We already have wasted enough effort in this futile projectile." Yevgeni replied back to him, looking at the clear skies from the wooden frame window of the office. There was a price to pay for being too inventive, and the waste of resources from the attempts to create some outlandish concepts like arachnid automatons and humanoid automatons capable of fighting better than human soldiers were some of them. It was a trademark of Soviet Steam to engage into the absurd, but at least, the wireless electricity research was showing some progress, despite certain shortcomings which would make it take a long time to become truly practical.

"Should our Navy increase patrols to offset the reduction of troops to the north? I believe it is only logical. Through peace we stage the revolution, through war we achieve it." The Marshall further commented. The discussion was making a good progress on what would be done.

"No. I believe we have enough intelligence to know when and whether an attack or spy could come or not. But now that a war seem likely, I believe that we must have more and better eyes to see it. The Intelligence Commissariat must be expanded."

"Very well. I believe we have a quite number of new recruits about to go to the field, and we will become more active diplomatically, and thus will have to expand our diplomatic staff across the continent, because we do not want this war to happen, correct? I am sure that at least we will know the big picture of what is happening, if not the intrinsic details of their military operations." The Marshall confirmed.

Yevgeni smiled, and pointing to the far horizon, as the sun was still rising, he wondered about how much has remained the same, and yet, the old problems and squabbling were about to give the greatest opportunity of their glorious revolution. It was a one try situation, and failure could mean drastic consequences as well.

"The world seems to be changing. This is our opportunity comrade, we cannot miss it!"

The embassies of Soviet Steam would soon be re-staffed. Their neutrality was secured, and their wish for peace was clear. Even offers to mediate the conflict were given, but they were unlike to be trusted because of their revolutionary passion.

The storm of war was coming, the tide of the revolution would sweep it.

Secret Communication to Stahlavan Government

The Nervradian Government, representing His Majesty, establishes by way of this telegram its intent for peace with Stahlava and, if possible, co-operation between our two nations. The world is steering itself towards a powder-keg, however, Nervrad intends to avoid this conflict as much as possible. We consider that bloodshed will not yield favorable results. Do not take this as a judgment of your help to Gottwald, or any of your actions, but rather as a plea for mutual co-operation. We only have the best interests of our nations in mind.

signed,

Prime Minister of the Heavenly Tsardom of Nervrad,
Leonid Illarionovich

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

Secret Communication to Stahlavan Government

The Nervradian Government, representing His Majesty, establishes by way of this telegram its intent for peace with Stahlava and, if possible, co-operation between our two nations. The world is steering itself towards a powder-keg, however, Nervrad intends to avoid this conflict as much as possible. We consider that bloodshed will not yield favorable results. Do not take this as a judgment of your help to Gottwald, or any of your actions, but rather as a plea for mutual co-operation. We only have the best interests of our nations in mind.

signed,

Prime Minister of the Heavenly Tsardom of Nervrad,
Leonid Illarionovich

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

Encrypted Communique to the Nervradian Government

It is heartening to hear that not all in this world hunger only for war. Unfortunately, it is nothing short of confirmed that a continental war will break out in the near future. For that reason, the Stahlavan Government and I have unanimously agreed for cooperation between our two great nations. I also assure you that all Imperial Stahlavan troops stationed on our borders are their only to ensure the defense of Stahlava. An attack upon Nervrad is absolutely out of the question for my forces for many reasons that need not be stated. If you wish, then our governments may work together to create an official treaty of cooperation; or this discussion may remain completely confidential.

signed,
Grand Duke Adrian I

Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald
To the Tsar Glorious Heavenly Nervrad

On behalf of Gottwald government and people I write to you to propose a covert alliance between our two nations stop will move forces into north Crowne as sign of goodwill stop in exchange I ask that any surplus food you may provide to be sold to Gottwald at a discounted rate stop expect further messages in the coming days fullstop

Respectfully
Frederich Thorshafn

Nanmarkt
November 23rd

Sunday started much like any other day. The sky was clear and there was a crisp chill in the air as the autumn sun rose over the russet horizon. As the shadows retreated from the unstoppable glare of the rising sun the bastions of Nanmarkt were laid open, columns of men marching out in perfect lockstep. By the time the sun had risen halfway the roads around the fortress city were inundated in soldiers and carts, horses and cannons, all marching, trotting or rolling towards the border with the Republic. The signal was given at exactly 6:30 AM for the first Gottwalder to step into Crowne territory in anger in over a century.

A similar scene played out on the Austrasian border, where several hundred thousand more men marched into foreign territory. Neither advance was a singular column, but a series of several, each composed of several battalions. At the head of each rode full-strength uhlan corps, resplendent in their finely-pressed combat garb. The wooded hills of their enemies awaited them, and there wasn’t a man among them who didn’t look forward to a short victory.

Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald
To the Tsar Glorious Heavenly Nervrad

On behalf of Gottwald government and people I write to you to propose a covert alliance between our two nations stop will move forces into north Crowne as sign of goodwill stop in exchange I ask that any surplus food you may provide to be sold to Gottwald at a discounted rate stop expect further messages in the coming days fullstop

Respectfully
Frederich Thorshafn
Secret Communication to Grand Duchy Gottwald

Representing the people of Nervrad I thank you for your communication stop Wish of all people that hostilities be avoided stop If this is not possible we would be most grateful that communication and trade to Gottwald be assured stop Gottwald has always been a trade partner of Nervrad and will continue to be one stop Rest assured that we will do our best to insure your goodwill stop We look forward to further communication fullstop

signed
Constantine Viacheslav III

Taranto, Armoria
1300 Hours, 2 days before outbreak of war

The sun shone brightly over the coastal capital city of Armoria, as it often did this time of year. The bells of the city's ancient cathedral had just announced the hour to be one, and the streets below bustled with activity. Workingmen and businessmen brushed past one another on the sidewalks, hurrying to or from work depending on what shift they were on. Streetcars and carriages clattered through the brick-lined streets. Salesmen with stalls full of fruits, vegetables, and every sort of good imaginable hawked their wares to passerby. Paperboys, some no older than eight, shouted the latest headlines in an effort to make a lira or two. A few miles removed from the city center, families picnicked on the beaches, while the mighty Grand Fleet's dreadnoughts sat at anchor just down the beach, visible in all their glory and splendor on a clear day. In short, today was another normal Armorian day in another normal Armorian city, and the last thing in anyone's mind was the thought that this all might soon change.

Of course, anyone who paid attention to the papers would have known otherwise, would have known that change was about to be thrust on the Armorian people in a very big way. Six days ago, a Gottwalder noble had been shot in Austrasia, a historic ally of Armoria. Since then, the world had been shaken from it's slumber, and it seemed all too certain that with the tangled web of alliances and deals no doubt being hammered out in secret, war would soon visit Armoria's tranquil shores. Still, most Armorian citizens, displaying both the optimism and stubborn bullheadedness that had become cultural stereotypes of their people, simply refused to believe that a war would ever come. After all, they reasoned, had not Gaul been thoroughly beaten 25 years prior, and did not Armoria possess the world's largest navy? Surely, the line of thought went, nobody would dare provoke Armoria again, not after how badly the last comer had been emasculated.

Some, however, knew better. Chief among them was 51 year old President Vincente Amato. "Uncle Vinny" as he was cordially known among his supporters, was a former mafioso, and a fairly high ranking one at that. His father had formed the Amato Cartel in Vincente's youth, and with his passing Vincente had taken over the reigns and proceeded to whittle down the rival Forelli Mafia, eventually burying the hatchet. Prior to that, he had served as a soldier in the Armo-Gaullic War, becoming highly decorated in the process. It came as no surprise, then, when the elections of 1902 landed him the Presidency on a landslide of populism, and renewed his term in 1908. Now, President Vincente Amato was juggling a diplomatic crisis far more complex than any mafia diplomacy, and it was on this bright and beautiful day that he was hard at work in the confines of the Presidential Mansion, formerly the palace of the Grand Duke of Taranto.

"Salvatore! Get in here you stupid fuck," Vincente barked to his foreign affairs secretary, his word choice betraying his mobster upbringing and the stress the office had put on him of late.

"Yes, Mister President? You wanted to see me?," Salvatore replied uneasily, taking a seat in the ancient-looking office of the President.

"Yes, yes I did. What's the latest news from our ambassador to Austrasia?," President Amato asked, putting down his pen and smoothing out his voice somewhat.

"Not good at all sir. It seems the Austrasians will likely expect us to fulfill the terms of our treaty, and you know what that means," Salvatore replied grimly.

"Right," Vincente said with a groan, "and what about the Gauls? Fucking vultures will be in on this somehow, mark my words."

"I'm not entirely sure on that, Mr. President. Reports indicate that they're in the process of mobilizing toward our borders, but you know how sketchy our intelligence in Gaul has been in the past."

"Reduced to relying on schoolboy gossip, imagine that," Vincente muttered to himself. "Mr. Zabini, cable the High Command if you would, and arrange for a meeting tomorrow. Inform the Austrasians that Armoria stands by them if they need it, and cable this to Lamiglia," he said, scribbling a note on a piece of paper.

"Lamiglia, sir?," Zabini replied, confused.

"Yes, Lamiglia. War is coming Salvatore, and we need to know who our friends are."

Encrypted Communication to the Lamiglian Government

Have offer you can't refuse stop.
If/when war arrives, assist Armoria in offensive against Gaul stop.
Weaponry courtesy of Armorian government stop.
Loyalty will be rewarded full stop.

For all of its arrogance and pride, the military of Gottwald did indeed have at least some inkling of the responses of Crowne and Austrasia would be once Gottwalder military buildup became apparent. Even with the knowledge that there would at least be some opposition, though, little was done about creating tactics around that idea or even instructing the men with significant early orders. Historians would look back later and reflect that the Gottwalder high command literally expected to walk into their neighbors lands, chase down some peasantry from the comfort of horseback and retire to their estates for wine. Such was not to be.

Initial skirmishes occurred first on the border with Austrasia, who had been expecting an attack for far longer than the Republic. Nevertheless, within thirty minutes of the first border crossing both fronts were alive with rifle fire. The latter months of the war would be marked by horrendous casualties and atrocious acts of brutality, but for now both sides were simply content to take pot shots at each other, make a few dashes with cavalry or lob the odd artillery shell.

***

Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald
To President Republic Armoria

Recent hostilities have broken out between Austrasia and Gottwald as am sure you are aware stop want to make certain that you are informed that Gottwald is in no way intending to attack Armoria stop additional forces are moving against mutual enemy Crowne stop must admit to being confused about Armorias stance on the war as Crowne is an enemy and Austrasia is an ally stop please reply posthaste fullstop

Respectfully
Frederich Thorshafn

***

Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald
To Grand Duke Grand Duchy Stahlava

Thank you for your pledge of support in this great endeavor stop would suggest forming a more concrete alliance between the our Grand Duchies stop perhaps mutual defense agreements and free trade pact fullstop

Respectfully
Frederich Thorshafn

Armorian historians have often said that attempting to make sense of the alliance structure of Great War-era Armoria is like pulling one's hairs out, one by one, with a pair of tweezers, and one must imagine this is how President Amato must have felt on the day before the war would begin, having received a cable from, of all nations, Gottwald.

"Why the fuck did I take this job, Salvatore?," Amato groaned as he read the cable over for the fifth time.

"Because, sir, the Armorian people would have it no other way," Salvatore replied sycophantically, again more concerned about keeping his boss happy (and thus, as far as he knew, himself alive; one never could tell with those mafia types) than expressing his true opinions.

"Well, in any case, this does present an interesting situation. I think, Salvatore, that we've been viewing everything through the Gaullic lens for too long. Here, the enemy of our friend is our friend, so to speak. You're the one with the degree in this shit, what do you recommend?"

"If you want my honest opinion, sir, it's that working with Gottwald and against Crowne does not necessarily mean we're turning our backs on Austrasia. When the Crownes government is defeated, what is Crowne but another theater in which to destroy the Gottwalders? If we spin our technical alliance with the Gottwalders as such to the Austrasians, we can pull this off I think," Salvatore replied.

"Very well. I shall send the relevant cables. Let us hope this plan of yours works, for your sake," President Amato replied imperiously before setting to work on the telegraph before him.

Encrypted Communication to Gottwalder Government

Crowne as friend of Gaul is enemy of Armoria stop.
Bound by honor and treaty to assist Austrasia if asked, but not yet asked stop.
See no reason not to assist in destruction of mutual enemy stop.
Grand Fleet sortied this afternoon towards Straits of Crowne stop.
Best regards full stop.

Encrypted Communication to Austrasian Government

Assisting Gottwald in destruction of Crowne stop.
Fear not, alliance still stands if needed stop.
With Gottwald spread thin in Crowne, should have easier time on border stop.
When Crownes government falls, so will temp. Armo-Gottwalder alliance.
As always, troops at ready to assist ally full stop.

Grand Duke Adrian I Grand Duchy Stahlava
To Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald

Excellent news to hear stop Stahlavan forces inbound to Gottwald for the offensive against Crowne stop should be arriving in a days time stop alliance should be discussed immediately between our Grand Duchies and Nervrad fullstop.

Woods surrounding Hollydale, Crowne

Unteroffizier Albert Budhal squeezed the trigger of his rifle, digging his boots into the soft earth and shifting his weight to help absorb the recoil. A series of casings jumped from the eject port and spiraled back into the shallow foxhole to pile at his feet. As far as he could tell none of the Republicans across the valley were hit, but judging by the return fire they sure were angry. The officer ducked down into the hastily dug hole, groping his ammunition pouches for another clip. “I’m out!” he shouted, gesturing to one of the soldiers next to him. The other man fumbled with his uniform, suddenly realizing he didn’t even have his ammunition belt, it having fallen off in his mad dash to escape the enemy fire.

“So am I,” he admitted. A bullet pinged off of a rock next to his head before he could say anything else, cracking the stone and sending the young man into deep cover. Albert grinned and pulled out his pistolegewehrshan. Taking a deep breath, he threw himself to his feet again and popped off some suppressing fire.

“Get some ammo down here, go go!” He punctuated his order with shots from his pistol and wild gesticulation. A moment later and a man in the next hole over tossed him a few clips before getting back to setting up the maschinegewehr he had been working on. Albert snatched one from midair and slid it into place. “Otto, Max, get to that big maple, ten meters, four o’clock!” His men immediately obeyed, scrambling from cover before dashing to their new position. They hurled their backs up against the tree and bent around the corner. Maximilian attempted to get a bead on the nearest enemy but received only a bullet to the throat.

“Doktor!” screamed out Otto as he frantically returned fire. The heavy chugging of a machine gun started then, the men in the next foxhole over finally having gotten it set up. A steady rhythm punctuated the air now, cowing the Crowne defenders into keeping their heads down long enough for Max to be hauled into better cover. Otto stood his ground, kneeling behind the maple as best he could. The machine gun gradually forced Crowne back, giving Budhal’s men some breathing room. Seizing his chance he ordered his men forward again, this time more successfully. They were halfway up the other side of the shallow valley when the maschinegewehr ceased.

Crowne bullets again struck out to impale hearty Gottwalders, dropping four dozen men in their tracks. Albert could see through his field glasses that they too had a machine gun. Cursing his ill luck, he leaped out of the hole and made for the machine gun nest, sliding in as quickly as possible.

“Maschinegewehr’s jammed, Herr Budhal!” cried the gunner. The two other men in the heavy weapons detachment were trying to claw a spent shell casing out of the eject port, stubby fingers clasped around bulky metal pliers. Finally it came free and the gun started up again.

“Keep their heads down,” Albert ordered. What could be taking the artillery so long to get into position, he wondered? If the uhlan’s advance to the north was to be at all successful in any lasting way they needed this infantry pusch.

Little shapes in the colors of Crowne dotted the opposite ridge, dashing too and fro beneath the fall colors much like the Gottwalders were doing, periodically taking snap shots at their attackers. Budhal lined up his rifle on the prone form of a distant soldier firing down at God knows what in the valley. It was a long shot, probably at the maximum range of the Gewehr he carried, but it was certainly worth a chance. He exhaled and pulled the trigger, waiting to see if he made the shot. A second after the bullet left the barrel the opponent spun onto his side, one of his arms clipped by Albert’s shot. The officer cheered and aimed again, expending another clip in short order.

***

Archduke Frederich Thorshafn Grand Duchy Gottwald
To Grand Duke Grand Duchy Stahlava

Your cooperation in this regard is truly fantastic news worthy of the finest celebration stop will contact Nervrad about this alliance at first opportunity stop suggest you pass through Crowne waters post haste stop likely to encounter intense resistance but Gottwald is sending elements of High Seas Fleet to distract Republic fullstop

Respectfully
Frederich Thorshafn

***

High Admiral Ludger Heindl clapped his hands in the chill sea breeze. Port Emerkrieg lay behind him now, almost lost in the rolling waves of the Great Sea. Portions of the High Seas Fleet had put out just as the first shots had been fired on land and now they were on their way to the eastern edge of Republican waters. As Ludger looked on the sky almost seemed to darken ahead of him, bringing promises of rain and perhaps something else. Shrugging indifferently, the tall, thin man turned on his heel and strode back across the deck of his flagship, the KRNS Eisenhauss. By the time they reached Crowne waters in the morning it would hopefully not be too late to pull portions of the Crownes fleet away from the incoming Stahlavan expeditionary force. Time would tell.

Adelaide, Capital of Crowne
Seven days before the outbreak of war

The assassination of Princess Amalie Thorshafn-Boxberg didn't cause much of a ruckus within Crowne's general populace, most of them were to worried about their everyday lives to worry about a princess being shot. However, the nearly 20 million civilians living near the border with Gottwald were very worried.

President Michael Cooper and Congress rushed a mobilization bill through both houses in preparation for war. The military brass and the President dusted off the latest plan for combating a Gottwald invasion, "Sander Plan '13" and were set to modify it to fit intelligence news they would be receiving in the next few days. Meanwhile a message was fired off to the Third Gaullic Republic requesting naval forces and perhaps land troops to fight the Gotts. Also the telegram detailed that Crowne's Far West Expeditionary Fleet shall be put under the command of Gauls' navy should Gaul request it.

The military was busy sending out deployment letters to all of the 1,641,600 reservists in the country, only one reserve army group was currently on duty for training exercises in northern Crowne and it would take 5 days to prepare them for combat and another 3 days to transport them to the front.

To deploy the other five army groups would take even longer, at least 21 days per two groups, over 43 days before they were all at the front lines. 3 days for all of them to receive their letters, 4 for them to all report and 14 to be outfitted, receive last minute training and commands and to get to the front. The reserve centers could process so many men at once.

Hollydale, Northern Crowne

The Republic shared a large border with the Gotts and it had been the sight of many a battle before, the southern areas were helped by the mountains along the southern third of the border, they were heavily fortified and provided a buffer for the populous southern regions, the capital only lay 300 miles from the border.

The northern two-thirds of the border was fairly flat and forested with a few hills fortified to provide protection against any incursions from the Gotts. The forests served as a hindrance against cavalry and the movement of artillery but only expanded 25-30km from the border in both directions.

Just inside the edge of the woods a series of fortifications had been built, a defensive 'wall' of 'forts', each housing a regiment of infantry, cavalry and a battalion of artillery.

The forts themselves looked little like the forts of old, they consisted of 8 small trench lines and earth and stone walls facing the border with a small concrete/stone wall behind it protecting troop quarters, they were linked by a two deep trench line and spanned 4-5km. Behind those was the fort proper, which housed the cavalry and officers. The entire fort system was connected by a series of actual roads and some dirt paths. Similar systems were in place along the other borders but were much more spread out.

Behind these forts were secondary bases which housed the remainder of the division within real forts and were generally located near cities.

One of those cities was Hollydale, the 30th Army Division headquartered in the city would be the first to see action.

[b]Leigh Creek Naval Base, Outskirts of Adelaide
6 days before the outbreak of war

The Leigh Creek Naval Base was a sprawling massive complex of docks warehouses, oil depots and office buildings and fortifications, it was easily the most important base within the nation, even more so then Forsayth Fortress in the Isa Mountains. It was the home base of the Adelaide West Fleet, the largest fleet of the nation, that guarded the western entrance to the Adelaide Strait which sat just 250km away. The fleet was fearsome, consisting of 8 post dreadnought battleships [even if two of the newest "Standard Type" were undergoing sea trials they were fit for combat], 14 Pre-dreadnought battleships, 13 cruisers, 31 destroyers, 15 torpedo boats, and twenty submarines [which were housed at the Adelaide Naval Base opposite the Adelaide Cove.] The Adelaide West Fleet had yet to receive any orders but the fleet's admiral moved his ships up to alert status and began preparations to move them to North/South Wyndham Naval Base.

Leigh Naval Base was originally just fort built to house the western shore battery of the Adelaide Defensive Shore Gun Battery but gradually expanded into the major base it is today. The Adelaide Defensive Shore Gun Battery consists of four 12" 50 caliber disappearing guns and two 14" 45 caliber disappearing guns, eight 8" 45 caliber positions and 12 5" 50 caliber guns in armored turrets depressed into the ground.

Leigh Creek as a town housed the Leigh Naval Works, the largest complex of naval yards within the nation. A relatively small town for such an industrial and military complex to be housed within it.

Sydney Naval Base, Eastern Adelaide Strait, Crowne
5 days before the outbreak of war

Sydney Naval Base, on the outskirts of the city of Sydney was home to the second largest fleet, the Sydney East Fleet. The fleet was composed of the two South Carolina-Class Post Dreadnought-era Battleships, five pre-dreadnought battleships, 13 cruisers, 10 destroyers, 15 torpedo boats, and 15 submarines. The city was protected in a scheme similar to the one protecting Adelaide.

However, by the end of today the base would be void of almost all ships. Today the Crowne Navy had received orders to move to their forward bases in anticipation for the conflict, both the Adelaide West and Sydney East Fleet would arrive on station within the day and spend the next four days drilling fleet tactics.

The movements of the fleets [especially the two new Nevada-Class Standard Type Battleships] towards their forward bases would be good information for any spy, as would the laying down of two more of the new 1913 Design Parameter Standard Type Battleships in the Leigh Creek Shipyards over the past few days.

North Wyndham Naval Station, 4km from the mouth of the Adelaide Strait
4 Days before the Outbreak of War

The usually barren harbor was a buzz with activity as the two Nevada Class Battleships, CNS Nevada and CNS Albany slipped out of the protective entrance to the harbor to join up with the two New York and Wyoming Class Battleships, the CNS New York, CNS Derby, CNS Wyoming, and CNS Hedland and their escorts for the beginning of naval drilling and fleet maneuvers for the day, the same scene would be repeated over the next 3 days, a days work of drilling and gunnery practice before slipping back into safe port.

They same scene would play out at South Wyndham with the pre-dreadnoughts and at Katherine Naval Base in the eastern Adelaide Strait with the Sydney East Fleet. No military ship would be allowed to enter either end of the Adelaide Strait, the Volzgrad fleet was heading strait to it's demise.

Fort 30.1, West of Hollydale, 120th Infantry Regiment, 30th Army Division
10 hours before the outbreak of war

The small network of defensive trenches has a buzz with activity as the one thousand three hundred and sixty infantry man in the Fort ran about preparing their weapons and trenches for any battle, patrols were returning and a few scouts that had dared to move into Gottwald reported a large number of troops across the border. Last minute letters to home were being piled into the weekly mailbag. The thirty-two Hotchkiss M1914 machine guns were cleaned and new ammo was brought up from the stores. A line of men snaked into the mess hall as they grabbed what would be most likely their last hot real meal for a long while.

Fort 30.1.1, West of Hollydale, 120th Infantry Regiment, 30th Army Division
November 23rd

The war had begun, the first Gottwald troops had moved across the border, they had been detected by routine cavalry and infantry patrols. Sgt. Clyde Styles had been in the first patrol to encounter the Gottwalds. His nineteen men were currently pinned down in a shallow valley by HMG fire as they tried to return to the trenches. The opening engagement was favorable to them, only one man was injured as the valley had an abundance of cover, but the tables were turning as a few men reported they were out of ammo, the sharpshooter had also been wounded. Sgt. Styles was running out of ammunition for his own Lewis Gun.

Sgt. Styles cursed himself for fighting back against the overwhelming force instead of retreating to the trenches. Him and his men dove for cover as bullets splattered off the ground, rocks, and trees around them, seems their HMG was finally up. However, within a few seconds the fire had stopped, Sgt. Styles popped his head up enough to see the Gottwald troops advancing towards his position. He and his men took the opportunity to cut down the advancing troops and beat a hasty retreat towards their trenches.

It seemed to work for a moment, that is, until the Gottwalds began firing again, cutting down two of his riflemen. He looked back at the trench line, just outside of weapons range but just within sight range, he hoped he'd be receiving help soon, he was down to 14 men. Just then his prayers were answered, the distant rhythmic 'thud' of the thirty-two 70mm mountain guns stationed at the fort signaled that someone had finally noticed the fight.

Within seconds shells began landing between him and the enemy, other shells were landing behind the enemy. The first salvo was always to get the range of the enemy and it rarely did more then scare them, on this occasion it would provide enough time for Sgt. Styles and his half a platoon to beat a hasty retreat outside of the range of the enemy, another wooded valley would hide them from view until they were already back to the trench line. Hopefully by then the Crowne 70mm guns had killed their pursuers.

Along the front patrols fought their way back towards the trenches as various 70mm, 75mm, and 105mm guns woke up across the front, the shrapnel rounds would inflict horrendous wounds on anyone hit by them. The larger 155mm field cannons and 280mm mortars were stilling moving into position. One advantage the Crowne artillery had was that it's deployment areas were pre-cleared of trees and they had positioned their spotters in areas with good views. The invading Gotts would need to find clearings of create some themselves before being within range of the Crowne lines, and all of the pre-cleared areas were well known to the 155mm and 105mm gunners who had them zeroed in just waiting for them to be occupied.

The men in the trenches only hoped that the 416 guns of various sizes and 128 HMGs, which were spread dangerously thin over the 50km front the division occupied, could keep the Gotts at bay long enough for the 26th Division, the corps reserve, and eventually the 1st Reserve Army Group, to reinforce them.

Sydney East Fleet and Adelaide West Fleet, 20km from the Narrowest point of the Adelaide Strait

The situation within the Adelaide Strait near Katherine and North/South Wyndham Naval Bases was tense, the morning fog was still dissipating and the silhouettes of the massive battleships looked even bigger and more menacing. Submarine and torpedo boat scouts had not yet spotted any enemy ships, however spies had alerted them of the departure of the the Armorian, Gottwaldian, and Stahlavan Fleets and it was assumed they would attempted to split Crowne by taking the Adelaide Strait. The Sydney East and Adelaide West Fleets and Wyndham/Katherine Naval Shore Batteries would have something to say about that plan.

Over the past few days, the navy had moved eight 14" railway guns into position on huge turntables that essentially enabled the guns to be trained like a turret and fire up to 45 degrees, allowing them to fire out into the strait up to 35km, as opposed to 25km the disappearing guns were limited too, it also allowed them to train the gun while reloading, improving fire rate and accuracy. The high elevation gave them a distinct advantage of being able to pierce the decks of all dreadnoughts. The Adelaide Fleet would patrol directly between the North and South Wyndham Naval Shore Batteries with destroyers and torpedo boats out to the edge of the range of the 14" railway guns.

The design of the Crowne battleships let them maintain a speed of 18 knots up and down the line of battle, however, in practice the Nevada, New York, and Wyoming Classes were detached into a 'Fast Wing' that could maintain 21 knots and fire to a distance of 21km while the 'Slow Wing' consisting of the Florida, Connecticut, Virginia, and Maine Classes could maintain 18 knots and fire to a distance of 17km. The two lines of battles were fairly homogeneous and allowed the commanders to assuming all ships in their Wing had the same capability.

It was hopped that the homogeneous lines of battle would be the deciding factor in the up coming battle.

Antus Manor, Lamiglia
2 days before the outbreak of war

Antus province was a centrally located fiefdom, landlocked and surrounded completely by other Lamiglian provinces. Despite this, somehow, in a land of constant internal struggle, Antus had prevailed to become one of the most powerful provinces in Lamiglia. Under the solemn guardianship of Lord Antonio Martin, Antus Manor had withstood countless sieges and become the closest equivalent to a capital that Lamiglia had.

Her monolithic walls and spires were as imposing as they were ancient. Situated high atop a hill, the Manor commanded a view of the countryside, and offered an almost unassailable fortress from which the feudal states could be ruled. It was here, beneath the citadel, that the Council of Lords of Lamiglia met regularly, an unbinding alliance between the states, formed to serve the good of the Lamiglian states as a whole.

It was to the council that Armoria's telegram had been sent. Short but to the point, the telegram was met almost unanimously with anger from the Council. Lamiglia had barely announced its neutrality before the Armorian Telegram was received. Obviously the Armorians had little respect for anything beyond their own borders, and deserved to be taught a lesson.

The Council voted to forward the Armorian Telegram to the Gaullic Government. That would teach the cowards a lesson in humility.

Among the general clamor of L'Assemblée Nationale de Gaul, a single voice rang out.

"Messieurs, we cannot continue to allow events in the South go unanswered. There are too many incidents that require attention and action. Nations are moving against our Crowne allies. L'Entente Stratégique is under threat, and we must act quickly to ensure its survival." The speaker paused for a moment, before continuing, drawing a piece of paper from his coat.

"I hold here concrete evidence of Armorian treachery, attempting to subvert our Lamiglian allies against us. They seek an agreement to divide Gaul!" There was much commotion amongst the MPs, with cries of "Forgery!" far outweighed by shock and horror.

"Messieurs, I implore you, the longer we allow the Armorian threat to continue, the longer we imperil La Troisième République. We must act quickly to deploy forces along the defensive fortifications between Gaul and Armoria. Thank you." Hissing began to peter out, overpowered by sounds of agreement across the chamber as a member of the opposition stood.

"Messieurs, Monsieur Belmont would have you believe that the Armorians are behind every scheme and plot to topple La Troisième République. Every shadow and bush contains more Armorians, just waiting to kill us all. The truth is that this telegram is a forgery!" Hissing from all corners of the room began to overpower his voice, quieted only by several sharp raps of a gavel.

"Monsieur Belmont would see us embroiled in a war we have no interest in! L'Entente Stratégique has done nothing for Gaul, and it stands poised to drag us into one of the largest conflicts to sweep the region in the last fifty years. This is not our war, it has never been our war, and the assassination of oligarchic figures can only be a boon in this monarchistic continent."

Debate continued on long after this speaker took his seat, but the outcome had already been decided. Many more remembered the previous wars against Armoria than feared Lamiglian treachery. L'Armée de Terre was mobilized with all deliberate speed and rushed to the front, prepared to advance on Armorian positions at a moment's notice, while la Marine Nationale began to put to sea. L'Armée de l'Air began to mobilize in place, preparing its finicky machines for war.

A single diplomatic telegram was sent to Crowne, though necessarily through the territory of other nations.
Commencing Guerre Sous-Marine upon any shipping in and around Armorian waters STOP
Withdraw your forces from the area, we will attempt to eliminate their navy STOP
We are dispatching ships to aid STOP
We support any move you make STOP



The morning the war began, both telegrams hit the newspapers.

West Wood Estates, Adelaide, Capital of Crowne
One day before the outbreak of war

The West Wood Estates was a magnificent estate within the city of Adelaide, a sprawling campus with courtyards and fountains, it's several buildings served the different branches of government, effectively serving as a sprawling capitol building, it also served as the residence of President Michael Cooper.

Today President Cooper was reviewing a telegram he had just received, the Third Gaullic Republic was the sender, President Cooper was thankful that the Strategic Agreement was still a very real force binding the two nations, the ships would be greatly appreciated, especially if the unavoidable conflict in the Adelaide Strait wasn't as one sided as the president hoped it would be.

We are thankful for your aid STOP
Gaul Expeditionary Fleet will sortie with your forces attempting to reach us STOP
The sea lanes are the lifeblood of our two nations STOP
We must do our best to protect them STOP
God Speed STOP

Palazzo del Quirinale
Taranto
0900 Hours, One Day Before Outbreak of War

"Bastards! Fucking Lamiglian bastards! They'll fucking pay for this Salvatore, I promise you they will fucking pay for this!" President Amato was clearly upset, pacing throughout his spacious office in the Quirinal Palace, his official residence. Of course, he had every reason to be; the Lamiglians had stabbed his nation in the back and were very likely going to be the cause of yet another war between Armoria and Gaul. In one fell swoop, Armoria had lost it's twenty-five year upper hand on the Gauls, and amid fresh intelligence regarding deployments to the front, Vincente knew he would be forced, before long, to bring his nation to war.

"Sir, please, calm down. General Scarletti and Grand Admiral Cabella have been notified, and General Scarletti already has five divisions moving toward the front. Perhaps when the Gauls see our numbers, they will back down."

"Perhaps," Vincente replied, "but what about that telegram our people supposedly intercepted? Has it been decoded yet?"

"No sir, unfortunately the Carabinieri are still working on it," Salvatore said grimly. "We've figured out it came from Gaul and has something to do with their navy, but who the intended recipient was is anyone's guess."

"Damn. Those Gaullic rats got the jump on us it would seem," Vincente muttered to himself.

"No matter sir, the boundless courage of the Armorian soldier will prevail," Salvatore replied, quoting a passage from an Armo-Gaullic War era speech.

"Propaganda and bullshit, that's what that is. Courage does not win wars, Salvatore. Equipment, bombs, shells, rifles. That is what wins a war. Courage is no good when you're a dead man. If you had fought in the war you would understand this."

At this, Salvatore said nothing. After a few seconds of silence, Vincente walked over to his wine rack, selected a well-aged Chianti, and poured himself a glass before offering the bottle to his foreign affairs secretary.

"Thank you, sir," Salvatore said, accepting the glass. "Perhaps it is too late for such a toast, but here's to peace," he said, raising his glass halfheartedly.

"No, Salvatore, it is never too late for peace, not as long as the first shots have not been fired," Vincente replied, clinking his glass against Salvatore's.

A few minutes later, after Salvatore had finished his wine and left, Vincente drew out an antique fountain pen and some stationary, and began writing a letter to his son, Pietro, who had recently joined the Army.

Dear Pietro,

Here's hoping this letter finds you well. As I write this, I am afraid the prospects of war with Gaul look increasingly likely. The Lamiglians have betrayed us to our enemies, and thus we must make arrangements to protect our nation and our honor. I assume you have already reached the front, having been assigned to an Alpine division. Please, try and stay safe.

I know how young men like yourself think with regard to war, for I myself was once a young man. Too many of our youth, boys just recently turned men, view going to war as a grand adventure, and as a chance to become a hero. I must give you my utmost caution, Pietro: do not seek heroism. I have never told you my stories from the front, because I did not think you were old enough, nor did I wish to relive my memories. War, Pietro, is not grand, nor is it an adventure. Do not take undue risks. Obey your commanders. They have been through war, and know how to lead men through alive. I still pray that God will grant our people a miracle and help us to avoid war, though at this point it seems near inevitable. I shall pray for you, my son, to return to me alive and carry on my line.

Enclosed in this package, please find fifty lira, one bag of beef jerky and one small box of Gordelli chocolates. It is the least I can do to ensure my son has some of his favorite things regardless of his circumstances.

Love, always,

Your Father

OOC: Two more parts of this post to be completed

OOC: Since my forces have been in the Strait for at least 3-4 days, I'm assuming they've cleared Crowne and are now in Gottwalder waters.

IC:

1100 Hours, Gottwald Waters

Unlike the days previous, fog covered the entire sea while harsh rain and hail beat down mercilessly upon the ships' steel hulls. For the better part of a week, the Stahlavan Naval Force had traveled cautiously down the treacherous Adelaide Strait. Thankfully, speed and the weather had been on their side as the Crowne Fleet simply could not cover the whole strait fast enough to blockade it. However, this did not mean that the Stahlavan's did not take some damage. Two of the transports had received minor damage from shore batteries, another transport was limping badly from damage it had received from a sea mine, and the SNS Abakin had lost a cannon and 40 men when one of its ammunition stores was hit by an enemy shell.

Even the thick, oil like fog could not stop Brigadier General Peter Cralevic from seeing the distant and looming shapes of the Ornmark docks. After days of nerve fraying near misses from both mines and enemy shells, they had finally arrived.

"Let the transports get to the front of the pack. I want our military vessels defending our rear." said Cralevic calmly as he sipped a glass of red wine. The new aide, a replacement for Rilke who had fallen sick during the voyage, nodded and hurried over to a radio station to send the news to the other commanders. He sighed happily and leaned back on his hard oak chair that he personally brought aboard for the voyage.

"Sire, we are being hailed by radio. It appears to be a Gottwalder message." The aide yelled over the static of the radio as it changed frequencies. Cralevic rose wordlessly from his chair and approached the radio. He snatched the radio receiver from the aide's hands and spoke into it.

"This is Brigadier General Peter Cralevic of the Stahlavan Expeditionary Brigade. Our transports are preparing to offload our men and equipment at the Ornmark port while our armed vessels shall remain here to safeguard Gottwald waters. Over."

OOC: I'll be writing more later and tomorrow, don't worry. I'm not going to talk about anything naval until TSS and Volzgrad get that thing worked out, so please try and get that done as soon as possible.


Freibachstrasser

The archduke sat at his disk tapping his left foot against the hardwood floor. His hands were obscured by his beard as he rested his chin on them, slouching in his chair while he waited for word from the front. After a long minute of repetitive tapping, he finally gave up and summoned an assistant.

“You called, Archduke?” bade the servant, nearly bent in half by a reverential bow.

“Yes. I fear that this time is being wasted, just waiting for a telegram. I would like to compose one of my own. Please arrange for a telegraphist to be here as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Herr Thorshafn. Right away.” With that the steward stepped out of the office, leaving Frederich alone with his anxieties. Silently he composed his message, stroking his beard absently. It was a healthy specimen, thick and bushy but perfectly neat, the epitome of current Gottwalder men’s fashion. Some minor noble had originally come up with the fad, he reflected, and it had grown from there. Now it was rare to see a man on the streets with less than half of his face overgrown. The arrival of the telegraph operator roused the archduke back to attention.

“You desired my precense, Archduke?” asked the spindly man. He was bald and thin, with a set of narrow spectacles set on a bony nose. He was cleanshaven, Frederich noticed with interest, and wore simple garments for one so close to the ruler of Gottwald. Perhaps the man was too old to partake in the frivolous pursuits of youth?

“Yes. I wish to send a message to two parties. Please take dictation.”

“As you wish, Archduke.” The man sat down at the small servant’s desk near the door, flexing callused knuckles above the morse transmitter. “I am ready when you are.”

“Very good. Please address this telegram to Constantine Viacheslav of Nervrad, from myself. Friend Tsar, the time has come to cement our relation both with each other and with our ally, Stahlava, stop. Have been contacted by Grand Duke Adrian the first about a possible triple alliance between our powers and would like to know your interest in such an undertaking, stop. Suggest you discuss this with Stahlava as soon as possible, stop. Gottwald is all for this arrangement, provided a formal meeting can be set up to sign this agreement in person, full stop.” Through this all the little man transmitted, sending the message through wires in the palace’s walls to the communications room in the basement. There the signal was collected by cryptographers, ciphered and restransmitted, this time wirelessly, to one of the nearest towers. The signal would be passed from tower to tower until it reached Nervrad, where it would again be picked up and carried on.

Satisfied with himself, Frederich motioned for the telegraphist to prepare a second message. “This time,” Thorshafn mused, “direct it to the Grand Duke of Stahlava, from myself. Grand Duke, suggest your great nation and mine, along with Nervrad, form an alliance, as suggested by yourself in a previous message, stop. Have contacted Nervrad about this issue and am awaiting reply, but perhaps you can speak with them yourself, stop. Waiting for your reply, fullstop.”

Großestadt,
Austrasia-Gottwald Border
November 23rd

It was early in the morning, and the general in charge of the newly created garrison was soundly asleep, so was most of his General Staff and their aides. Only one of them, a young captain by the name of Füster, was still up, working on the battle plans, which were due tomorrow.

That was the scene that the Imperial Messenger found when he entered the building, an empty room (if you did not count the captain), completely devoid of human life (that is, above the rank of Colonel).

Füster looked up, the messenger was visibly tired and thirsty, his otherwise neat uniform had sweat-stains and was covered in dirt, a horrifying sight which would have had it's owner sent to a military prison during peace time. But there was a war going on and thus this type of "offences" could be ignored.

Standing up, he offered his chair to the new arrival, who kindly refused and handed the captain a sheet of paper. Füster took it, unfolded it and read the message inside.

Gottwalder troops on border stop
Attack commenced at 0600 hours stop
Will hold the line stop
Heavy casualties stop
Send reinforcements full stop

The truth was that, for all their preparations, discipline in the Austrasian officer corps was lax at best, and the regiments in charge of guarding the border had not been prepared for a surprise attack. The only reason that Austrasian troops had managed to, somehow, present an organized resistance to the Gottwalder invasion was that the noise caused by the thousands of enemies marching in had awoken a couple sergeants who, in turn, had alerted the machine gun teams and their superior officers.

Still, casualties had been high and supplies were running out. The defenders could only hope that the 8th Infantry Division "Große Reich", stationed behind their lines, would come to help them.

Füster let the telegram fall off his hands, realizing what had happened. He took a minute to collect himself up and addressed the messenger.

"Go wake General Pfeifenberger, tell him it's urgent or else he won't pay any attention, go, quick!!

Füster then went back to his maps.

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

It's War!
Emperor declares his intent to "fight to the very end"

Yesterday, Gottwalder troops signed their own death warrants by daring to set foot on sacred Austrasian soil, however, their lack of military expertise and supplies has allowed our brave boys in the front to minimize the enemy advance and, even then, cause a tremendous amount of casualties to our vile foes.

The Emperor, along with the Generalstab, have declared their intentions to "beat the Gottwalders back to where they came from" and urged the population to join the Imperial Armed Forces. His Imperial Majesty also commented that "the war should be over for Christmas".

Already millions of Austrasian citizens, imbued with the spirits of their brave and courageous heroes, have flooded the streets to show their support for the righteous Austrasian cause, and many more have decided to follow Our Majesty's indication and joined the military.

Austrasia to support Crowne
Imperial Military ready to deploy, says Feldmarshall

It seems that our vile foes think that they can handle a two-front war, a strategical mistake that will surely cost them dear as earlier today, the Imperial Senate declared it's full support to the Republic of Crowne in it's valiant fight against Gottwalder imperialism.

"These actions will not go unpunished" declared Feldmarshall Von Aszenmil on a press release "The people of Crowne can rest assured that Austrasia will come to their aid".

And just to show the selflessness and dedication of the Austrasian people, a donation drive aimed at helping Crowne was started today, receiving more than two million Royal Marks, with millions more expected in the following days.

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

Adler-Schloss,
Austrasian Capital,
November 24th

The emperor had called for an emergency meeting with the Generalstab, the war was only one day old and he was eager to know how many kilometers had his troops captured, how many enemies had surrendered to Austrasian military superiority and how much equipment had been captured.

Of course, Frederic was an incompetent fool, but he was still the Emperor, and thus, people had to obey his orders.

So, a group of Austrasia's most respected generals and admirals had gathered in the imperial palace, so as to brief their fearless leader, they were lead by Feldmarshall Von Aszenmil. Frederic was the first to speak up.

"So, tell me gentlemen, how goes this little war of ours?"

Uncomfortable glares shot across the room, as these men knew exactly what was happening in their "little war", and it was no good news.

"Your Majesty, if I may."

"Go on, Feldmarshall"

"I have received word that an attempted Gottwalder invasion of our homeland was detected last night, they have been, of course, successfully repelled by the Imperial Army and we are now getting ready to invade them ourselves."

"Wonderful! What about you, Lord Admiral?"

"Well, Sire, the Imperial Navy has been mobilized, although it will take some time for our Overseas Fleet to reach it's positions, but the Admiralty and I are confident in our chances against the Combined Allied Fleets."

As always, the emperor was told what he wanted to hear and everyone went home happy. The truth was not so nice.

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

Encrypted Communication to Armorian Government

We acknowledge your message stop
Austrasia will support Crowne by all means possible, for the moment stop
Alliance still stands stop
Suggest combined fleet action to blockade Gottwalder and Gaullic ports stop
Best of luck and god bless full stop