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by The San Sierran Republic of Shavara. . 91 reads.

HonorBound

Series of Honorbound posts

Posts by: Osterreich und Ungarn

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

Former Feldwebel Oskar Eroberer turns on his side, his entire body aching and his head throbbing, both with pain and anger. He slowly starts to open his eyes. It was morning in Ruhmstadt, and the voices of people walking down the sidewalks and the honking of car horns were already filling the streets. He slowly gets up from the crumpled newspapers and sandbag he was using as a pillow and shambles out of the alley he was calling home.

Out on the streets, he could see fellow veterans shambling around, many of them stuck in his same situation. With nothing but their green grey pants and their undershirts, layed off by the Government because the government couldn’t be bothered to pay and feed them anymore. Another example of how the Government was full of traitors. As Oskar looks out at the street visible to him, he notices that it’s still busy, but much less so then normal. Many people passing by him had dazed expressions on their faces, simultaneously full of shock. He couldn’t blame them. Their government had failed them, and had lost Ostaria’s first major war.

He scoffs to himself. The good men of the 6th Infantry Division had done their damndest to hold the Easarion line, and yet the Government, a Government fueled by incompetency and treachery, had somehow screwed it all up.

He puts his hand down his pocket and feels the change and bank notes he had, his last paycheck. With the Government trying to make ends meet with the economic downturn, and reparations surely coming up when the treaty would be signed, money was being printed as if they only had a day to print it, and the bank notes would surely be worth less then they were yesterday. Deciding it would be enough, he heads off to one of the local bars to get some cheep breakfast and maybe some whiskey while he was at it.

Heading down the sidewalk, a woman came up to him and kicked him in the shin. “How come you yellow bastards lost the war,” she cried. Oskar lunged towards her, the woman quickly sliding away and continuing down the sidewalk. “B*tch!” She was probably a politicians wife, had to be. No jackass could be that stupid to blame the troops unless she were Government. Growling, he kept on.

Pushing the door open at the local bar, the Ruhmstadt Schooner, it was called, must have been on every veteran’s mind. Half the people in their had green-grey tunics and the other half had green-grey trousers and white undershirts like Oskar. At the counter was a plump man with a greying bushy mustache, who caught Oskar in his sights and nodded, and immediately pulled out a shot glass. “You like whiskey,” The bartender asked. Oskar nodded and hopped into a bar stool. The bartender poured some whiskey into the glass. “This shot’s on me, I doubt Vet’s can pay for whiskey anymore with the government doing what they’re doing.” Oskar nodded. “Thank you, that’s very kind. What’s the price?”

“50 Kroner, probably 60 tomorrow.”

Oskar cussed, and gulped the shot down, then putting down a krone coin. “Alright, will this do for a beer?” The bartender nodded and took it, and gave him a bottle. With the bartender hopefully satisfied with being paid, Oskar got out of the stool and went over to the free lunch counter, and got himself some eggs and pickled tomatoes. They weren’t good, and it wasn’t completely free, but it was the cheapest way to eat. The bartender didn’t complain.

Oskar hops back on the stool. The bartender sighs. “As much as losing wars does for business, I’d rather we didn’t lose wars.” Oskar raised a questioning eyebrow. The bartender caught it. “I mean the whole New Grüßen debacle after the crash of ‘45. Got a lot of Veterans back then to, in fact you’re in the same seat Jakob Bauernhof was in when he came in and started ranting about the government.” Oskar lit up, the first time had felt anything other then anger since the war was lost.

“Well, ain’t that just funny,” Oskar says, sipping at his beer. “You know, the Government messed up then, back then I was still on the farm, and the Honor Party helped. Look where we are again, in a situation much worse then back then. Ask me, we should go back to doing what he did, but hang all the Government this time, and hang all the reds too. Then we hang all the backstabbers over in Berlin and Nua-Kilarney after that, then raze Moscow and Neue Königsberg.” Being a soldier had given him a good sense of major cities. The bartender chuckled. “Yep, just like him. Ask me though, I wouldn’t mind having the Honor Party back. If they were back, they could finish the work they set off to do back then.”

Oskar nodded with enthusiasm. “You know what,” he said with a mouth full of egg, “we do need the party back. We should recreate it, then we could really pay back all the debts we owe, just like Bauernhof use to say we would, and this time, we’d pay ‘em in full!” The bartender smiles a little. Oskar then swallows and stands up out of his stool. He looks out at the crowd of Veterans.

“‘Scuse me fellas, I am Feldwebel Oskar Eroberer, D Company, 3rd Battalion, 6th Infantry Division. Atleast, I use to be, till the Government through me out on my ass, as I’m sure they done with y’all.” Unlike Bauernhof, he had an Altmark twang, and had a dire lack of proper education, dropping out before 11th grade. But, his voice could still carry, it still had conviction, and it caught attention. “I’m sure y’all remember when we was kids, right? Remember those radio addresses from Jakob Bauernhof back when he wanted to set things right, after he was thrown out on his ass by the same government?” The crowd of veterans nodded, some went and shouted yes. “Well, let me tell you, we’re in the same situation. We were the top dogs and now the Government went and got us to lose a war to the damn reds and to Kampf while we endured the oceans and the trenches. I say that makes them traitors, same as it it back in ‘45, don’t y’all?” More vet’s shouted yes, much louder this time.” “Well, I say it’s our honorbound duty as Ostarians to set things right. I say it’s our honorbound duty to get ourselves back on top. I say, it’s our honorbound duty to recreate the Honor Party and remind everyone for what it stood for and what Ostaria needs!” The veterans all whooped. Oskar smiled, more of a vile grin then one born from joy. He may be starting out in a bar, but he was honorbound, by God, to restore Ostaria.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

Einhard Müller looks intently at the beer in his hands. 200 Kroner went to a beer that should have been 3 Kroner. Arklen and New Öber should also still be Ostarian. But God worked in strange ways, more strange then anything else lately. The peace treaty had been signed a few days ago, and the nation was finally realizing it.

Buzzed, Einhard sips whatever is left in the bottle and walks out of the bar in downtown Ruhmstadt, angrier then usual thanks to the beer. He had been doing some odd jobs, selling vacuums, donating blood, helping clean up trash in the streets, and more to keep some money in his pocket. He was wearing the same green-grey army trousers and undershirt that seemed so common nowadays. Einhard was a mid-sized man in his late 20s, muscular, a stone cold expression on his face at all times unless he was fuming, and blonde. He had a very small flat he was renting in the poor side of downtown. He could go back to Artzen but he couldn’t face seeing his family after losing to Kampf. And so, he stayed here.

Downtown Ruhmstadt had become much sorrier then it had been pre-war. More beggars, more hobos, more bums were out on the streets, more trash was everywhere, more factories were closing down. And yet, in the pile of bums and trash and closed buildings, lay the capital building of the new Republic, born from failure, filled with failures. The Government wasn’t any different then the one that had lost the war, just didn’t have a monarch to kiss ass to. He hated the government. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything kind about it. They had lost the war, they had, they had succumbed to reds and they had f*cked up the relations with the Easarions. They had made the army lose through their incompetence.

As he passed by, formerly Imperial Avenue, now Republican Avenue, sandbags and Machine guns lined the Steel Soldier statue and troops in fresh green grey uniforms sat behind them, like the cowards they were. They probably had never seen combat before. Einhard had heard that a group of angry Veterans calling themselves the Wehrwolves had been rioting at the Capitol yesterday. Einhard had wished he was there so he could join them.

Turning down a few more streets and passing by a few fellow veterans, he came to his small flat and walked in. It was cramped, despite his lack of possessions. A few undershirts and a few pairs of green-grey trousers were on the floor, a few hundred bank notes were thrown on the table, and a revolver he kept from the army was on his nightstand.

He hops into his ruffled and torn bed and quickly dozes off, dreams of purging the government filling his mind.

He found himself waking up close to noon the next day, he had slept for a good long while, but cussed himself, he may not be able to find work today. Swearing as he changes into a less dirty pair of green-grey trousers and an undershirt, he walks out with his revolver and a few hundred bank notes.

Jogging down the sidewalk through the busy Capitol City, he barely payed attention at all to his surroundings, bumping into a woman and almost tripping over a child, his eyes dot around with military alertness looking for street work. Suddenly, he hears a voice. A distant voice, the sound stopping him in his tracks. The voice, although muffled and barely eligible, caught his attention and was pulling other’s in the street to it aswell. Einhard starts walking, following the sound of the voice.

There, standing atop a wooden box in front of the Steel Soldier, a tall, lanky, and handsome man with faded dark brown hair, wearing an undershirt, green-grey trousers, and a straw hat, was preaching to a crowd of veterans and civilians, even the soldiers guarding the Capitol were listening. Einhard finally picked up what the man was yelling.

“—and we all know the truth. Things are are at their lowest point! While we have a Parliament full of idiots, who care about nothing more then being re-elected, about nothing more then the money in their pockets, the people of Ostaria are suffering all over the globe. In the Fatherland, we have been humiliated, we are beginning to starve, as the prices only get higher, more of us lose our jobs, and money we have saved becomes worthless. In our outer territories, Ostarian’s live under the jackboot of Foreign Powers. I ask you, friends, who caused this?”

The man let the question hang before a crowd of people all shouted in unison “the Government!”

“Damn straight. They have done nothing for us, folks, except peddle their own selves and their own reputations.” The voice of the speaking man was clearly one from the Heartland, one that came from a life with a lack of education, but it carried the point, it sounded with conviction, and it made you believe everything he was saying was genuine, and that their was a need for action. Einhard gets closer.

So, folks, that’s why me and some of the veterans of the army have recreated the Honor Party. The government threw out the progress of the party with the war, and the good deeds of Kaiser Friedrich. It’s time we teach them what Bauernhof did a generation ago. It’s time we teach them what a noose around the neck feels like!” Some of the crowd cheered, some remained quiet, others looked more nervous. “And so I am bringing the party back across the country, we’re gonna get elected again, and this time, we ain’t gonna stop what Bauernhof set out to do, no folks, we ain’t. We’re gonna hang the traitors in the government, then we’ll turn the General Staff on their asses and replace them with genuine soldiers, then we’ll burn down and salt the earth between Nua-Killarney and Neue Königsberg!”

More of the crowd cheered this time, and much louder. Einhard among them, he then stepped close to see a cardboard box with “donations” written in sharpie. He pulled out a 100 Kroner banknote and started to head that way before he got a full close up glimpse of the man. That man was Oskar Eroberer, the squad leader for Einhard during the war. Einhard stood in silence, half in shock, half out of joy. That was his sergeant, and he was smarter then the government could ever be.

Oskar starts again. “And so I ask that y’all think of us, that y’all tell your friends. We have a registry at the Ruhmstadt Schooner down on Donnerschlag Street, and we are taking donations. Be sure to keep an eye out. Honor!” Oskar slammed his right fist into his chest, the old Honor Party salute, and stepped off the wooden box and started greeting some of the crowd.

Einhard came up and pushed past a veteran and a man that looked to be a clerk, and came face to face with Oskar. “Sarge!” He said. Oskar’s default angered expression turned to a rather pleasant smile. “Well I’ll be damned, that’s you Einhard! As you can see, I’ve found something to kill the time,” Oskar says jokingly. “Well hell, Sarge, let me join up! I like what you’re saying, and I want to show the people the truth you’re preaching, so long as I get to tie the nooses myself,” Einhard exclaims. Oskar pats him on the back. “Head to the schooner and you’re in, you and me are honorbound to pay back all the sons o’ b*tches who wronged our country.”

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

Johann Speidel whistles an old socialist tune as he walks down the bustling streets of Rhenick. Even now, in the midst of an economic panic and the worst inflation in decades, the industrial city was still bustling. Rather then with working men and union leaders though, the streets were full of bums and veterans, with the occasional working man. He himself was a veteran, but was choosing to stay with his parents until he could hold his one, of that were to happen anytime soon.

Work wasn’t easy to find neither, what with plenty of factories and shops closing down or buckling down on the employees they already had. The auto parts shop he had worked at before conscription had picked him up and sent him to garrison duty had closed down, which had really screwed him. Auto parts and vehicles were what he knew, and less and less people were buying decals and accessories for their vehicles.

But he wasn’t looking for work today, today he was heading to the local SDP office. A meeting was being held to discuss the future of Ostaria’s politics. The ÖKP still had the majority, but it wouldn’t for long. If the SDP didn’t take away it’s steam, the upstart Honor Party would. Not much info about the renewed party had gotten down to the Basin, but it had become known through the protests it and the Wehrwolves set up in front of the Capitol.

But they were an upstart. The SDP was the only force able to oppose the ÖKP, and the workers would realize as such. For too long had they been sucked into wars and dominated by lords and Kings. Now, it was different, the horrors and humiliations of war had finally dawned on the people, and so had the light of republicanism.

He’a thrown back into reality when he nearly trips over a veteran slumped over in the street. The veteran, who smelled like an alley dumpster and had on torn and faded green-grey trousers and a white undershirt, as all the rest did, woke up, his flesh hanging from his cheeks. He looked at Johann with sorrow in his eyes. Johann knew his father, a socialist the same as he was but pragmatic all the same, would slander him for this, but he pulled out two 200 Kroner banknotes and handed it to the veteran. The veteran managed a smile. “Thank you,” he says in a raspy whisper. Johann nods and continues.

He eventually finds the SDP office and walks in, the secretary greeting him, and several fellow party men tipped their hats to him. Johann spots one of his pre-war friends and comes over. Contrary to an oval faced, dirty blonde, fair skinned man like Johann, Karl Hoffinger was short, dark haired, and well tanned, like many men from the Heartland. His parents and he had moved here from Haldrick to manage agricultural goods coming along the Talleblau river. Karl was SDP, but still had some Heartland reaction in him.

He nods to Johann. “Hey, ain’t see you in a few years, not since you got conscripted! How you been, Johann?”

“I’ve been better. I hate imperialistic wars, as I always have, but it still hurts to lose like we did.”

“Same kinda thing it seems those Honor Party fella’s are on about. I’ve been SDP my whole life, but I didn’t get shrapnel in my damn leg back near Shiro for it all to be lost, you know what I’m saying?”

“We’ve only heard a little about what they stand for, and you are already considering switching to them? Damnit, Karl, but I thought you were truly a man for the worker.” Karl scoffs. “I have been, probably will be to, just depends on if this upstart will manage to stay alive and if the SDP can offer any palpable change.” Karl looks away and over at the office TV, which had the news on, Republik Nachrichten, it was now.

And as if God had heard Karl’s and Johann’s conversation, RN was talking about the new Honor Party. Johann’s heart sank a little. The news announcer was talking about the expansion of the party, which had opened an office in Korzin, the 5th largest city in the country and Steiler’s Capital, a few offices in some smaller towns between there and Ruhmstadt, and an office in Sieg.

That news though, although something to look out for, wasn’t alarming. The next news, however, was. The screen cuts from a map of Honor Party offices and to a photo of a man screaming in front of the Steel Soldier in Ruhmstadt. “We have also received reports of who the founder and current chairman of this new party is, a man named Oskar Eroberer. Not much info is out on this man, but it’s clear he’s a disgruntled Sergeant who served in the famed 6th Infantry Division on the Easarion Front. He is from Altmark, and between the ages of 35 and 36. He’s currently out on a national rally tour, holding speeches in various areas.”

The announcer then drones on about possible rain cloud formations above Rhenick and Ebfurt. Johann didn’t care. He couldn’t really hear. He was struck. Johann has served as a corporal in Oskar’s squad for nearly his entire tour, and had become his friend despite the two being near opposites. Johann had been with Oskar during garrison duties, during the assassination attempt on Kaiser Friedrich, and on the Easarion front. He knew Oskar, he knew the anger the man could muster, and he knew the shrewdness that came with it. Oskar was dangerous with such a party behind him.

His friend Karl turns back towards him. “Damn rain,” he mutters. He chuckles a little when he sees Johann’s face. “Hehe, you look like you seen a ghost, Johann. Rain that scary? Boy do I know a kindergarten song for you.”

Johann punches him in the arm playfully. “It’s just...nothing, just...stuck in thought.” And he was, but wished he wasn’t, the thoughts that came from Oskar’s leadership of the Honor Party were only too horrible for a socialist.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

Wilfried Burkhardt sips at his coffee as night turned to dawn, his hands steady on the steering wheel of his four wheeler. He had been driving for a few hours now, and all those hours had been filled with attempts not to drift off and annoyance that he was driving at all. He was what they called one of the lucky ones, which, however frustrating, Wilfried couldn’t deny. He had a job. He should have been working drills to mine iron ore, but due to budget cuts, he had been moved to delivering iron to steel refinery’s in the basin. Things moved a little slower, but they saved money by moving a drill man to delivery.

He cusses to himself, losing the war had been a burden, a burden many found hard to bear. News kept coming from Steiler, Sieg, and now Artzen about how the Honor Party was spreading like a wildfire. Though the part itself was only spreading through the north, people in the south war already beginning to feel the influence of them. As more speech recordings and more demonstrations came down to the south, people were beginning to believe the ideas themselves. However enticing the Honor party may be, Wilfried was still convinced the ÖKP wasn’t totally sour. The party had been through many rough patches and many different names but it always survived and had experience, and however useless the MPs may be, they at least had a defined policy.

Wilfried’s tired and sagging eyes spot a truck stop, and he smiles to himself. A snack and a coffee would do him good. He had just left the Gruthenic mountains and was now in the valley just before the state of Hassler, where the refineries were. He turns his truck into the parking lot to the truck stop, only a few others dotted around. He turns off the mighty engine of the four wheeler and jumps out, immediately greeted by exhaust any gasoline fumes. “Ahh, fresh air,” he says sarcastically. He walks up to the truck stop itself, a split between a diner and a coffee shop.

He pushes the door open, which jingles. A few truckers were sitting at the some small tables eating, one of them had green-grey trousers on and an undershirt. A veteran, a lucky one for finding work. He walks over to the middle aged woman by the register. “Excuse me ma’am, do you have coffee?”

“Yep, got normal for 1,500 Kroner, and another 100 will get you sugar and cream.”

Wilfried mumbles a few curses. Coffee would have been only 1,000 Kroner a few days prior. He pulls out two 1,000 Kroner banknotes and hands them to the woman. “Sugar and cream, please.” She hands him 400 Kroner back in change. He goes and stands to the side to wait, as another woman came in. She looked more like an IT geek then a trucker or iron worker, but she had parked a truck in one of the lots anyhow. She came in just to buy a pack of cigarettes and got them from the woman at the register, who also had Wilfried’s coffee. The woman who had come in bought her cigarettes and stared walking towards the fork.

All the while, Wilfried hadn’t really payed attention her, he was glancing at a newspaper which had a story about a dog swimming contest back down in Tyrole. But, what she did next froze him to the core. As she walked by, she slammed her fist into her chest and said “honor,” as she passed by Wilfried and walked out.

Honor? Those tools were here? He expected the loud mouths to gain some ground then die out before they got past. But here, all the way in the heart of SDP country, a woman had saluted him and given the party call.

Taking his coffee from the woman at the register and walking back out to his own truck, he feels a sense of anxiety befall him, although the coffee and the need to stay on the road helps. He continues driving for a few hours before finally reaching the refinery, and backing the four wheeler into a garage area. A few men came out and started hauling the crates of ore out. Wilfried got out himself with the form for the foreman to sign. The foreman did sign. As he was signing, he asked him a question. “Say, what do you think of those honor party fella’s?” Wilfried coughs awkwardly. “Well, if you want me to be honest, I think they ain’t quite what the country needs. Sure, they got the right kinda ideas but they don’t look stable and they seem like they don’t really know what they’re doing.”

The foreman sighs. “Yeah, a lot of people say that. I myself used to be an SDP man to the core, but damnit, a lot of us fought in the past to be the top dogs, and the Honor Party knows that. They also know who caused us to fall the way we did. The Government and just about all the foreign countries that stabbed us in the back. Honestly, the Honor Party seems like it may be an option.”

Wilfried hated what he was hearing. People must still have some sense? Some upstart couldn’t beat even the battered and shaken ÖKP, no matter what they preached. But he opted to stay quiet, be didn’t want to lose the money from this.

And with the foreman’s signature, he got back in his truck, knowing he would make enough money to get by. Wilfried’s driving gave him time to think. He thought, thought some more. He would be ÖKP, he always had been and always would be unless some other party gave him the money he would need so he could finally marry his fiancé. He had planned to after the war, but he didn’t have the money, and the defeat would probably ruin it.

And so, here he was, driving a four wheeler to earn worthless paper. The world had certainly turned upside down.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

Oskar Eroberer closes his eyes. Now that he was on one of the high speed trains, rather then speaking or meeting with someone, he could rest for a minute. Founding the Honor Party had been tiring, constant work, but it was for the greater good. All his grievances and all his anger were finally settling in with the greater populace, and soon, judgement day would come for the fools in Ruhmstadt and the state’s enemies.

But for now, he was still controlling an upstart. He had to assert the party, and in this age of information, he needed money and manpower to do it. His tour of the country had been going well. The last few days, he had been giving speeches in Artzen and Northern Mötz, which would certainly put him in the sights of the SDP. The SDP. Oskar had nothing but scornful things to say about the SDP. They were just as ignorant and just as guilty of Ostaria’s problems and Ostaria’s loss as the ÖKP. The party’s were, in essence, the same. They played the same note, just at a different tune.

The high speed train zoomed across the open countryside, going across a bridge over the Mötz River, in sight were the mighty dams built by the first Honor Party. The fields were green and luscious, the sky was bright blue. It was a beautiful day. Perfect. He would be stopping at Amsel, the center of Öber and the place to be if you wanted to remain...not totally knee deep in the sh*tter, what with the economic downturn and all. Oskar was still finding out a way to fix the economy, and had started formulating some ideas. But that would come when he would eventually be elected, as confident as he was, he knew it was bound to happen.

But the Chancellor elections weren’t important. Parliament elections were happening in only a few weeks, and the campaigning he was to do would sponsor the party and get more candidates in Parliament. Damn bureaucracy. He hated the slow and tedious Parliamentary System, but Jakob Bauernhof had set the standard. The Honor Party had to win by honest means.

Suddenly, the high speed train starts to slow down, gently bringing itself into the Amsel station. One of the things to look forward to in Amsel was whiskey prices. They would be cheap here, probably 5,000 Kroner, which was cheap nowadays. He could only afford beer anywhere else, he had more money then he had when he got booted on the streets by the Government, but most of what he made from donations went to the party. As the train stops, he hops out of his seat, adorned with a straw hat, a pair of classic green grey trousers, and a white undershirt, which was quickly becoming the Honor Party’s iconic clothing. He waddles his way through the rest of the people trying to get out and finally finds himself on solid ground again. As he starts to strut off towards the park he had chosen for his speech, a young man and a woman come up to him. The man coughed. “Excuse me, are you that Oskar Eroberer fella,” he says. Oskar nods. “Hell, I hope so otherwise I’ve been called the wrong name for 35 years.” The man and woman chuckled. The man spoke again. “Well, me and my wife want to thank you for what you’re doing, bringing the party back and all. We want our kids to be able to grow up in a country that can allow them to have future’s.“ Oskar smiles at both them, one of the few times he actually did. “Well folks, that’s just what we’re gonna do. I got a speech going on at Grenthal Park in 15 minutes. Everyone’s welcome to come, and if you bring you’re kids so they can hear the truth, then I’ll tone down some of the language.” A generous offer from Oskar. The man nods. “Well, we might stop by, I’m sure the kids would like to see who’s trying to make this country a better place.” Oskar smiles again and tips his straw hat, then walks off.

He sees a makeshift wooden stage set up in the park by some of his men. They weren’t organized yet, but they would be by tomorrow. He had organized a conference for the Honor Party to be held in the city the day after his speech. Seeing the wooden stage, a singular stalwart stood at the end of it. That number would increase, by God. Before stepping up, he clears his throat and combs his hair to the side. What he preached was fiery and fierce and was the truth, but his Heartland charm and his looks helped.

He dashes up the wonky stairs to see a large crowd of people surrounding it, some people had already heard of the Honor Party and wanted to jump right in, more though, wanted to see if he was worth it, and he’d show ‘em.

“Hello, people of Amsel, and of the fine state of Öber.” He starts. “Nice to be back in the Heartland. Better weather then Ruhmstadt I must say. Better whiskey, to. But, can you blame the city of Ruhmstadt? No, those poor folks are governed by white bearded fools! You all have seen it for yourself. Imagine that you’re bicycle falls apart. You fix it. It falls apart again. Every time, you fix it just enough to wear it seems like it’ll work, but it always falls apart again.” A good analogy always helped. “That’s what the politicians do. Our country has suffered disasters and crashes time and time again, and the morons and the elites always just say ‘oopsy,’” he imitates having a diamond ring on his finger and using a funny voice to imitate the politicians.

“They put the country back together again to where it looks like we’ll prosper forever, but we always break again. This, I say, is not the duty of a good government. A good government should ensure that the nation is forever on its legs, legs built by titanium, and legs that shall never falter.”

A large portion of the growing crowd cheers, and more people stop to see what he has to say. Oskar smiles at the sight of a young boy being held up by his father to see Oskar speak.

“And so, the Honor Party has been recreated to do just that. I have seen the legs the Government put up, fall in person. I was there when the KSB failed to protect Kaiser Friedrich, and I was there when they covered up my involvement in capturing the red that went and shot him. They even managed to convince the General Staff to order that I never be promoted. I don’t know about you folks, but if a man does a job, and does it well, he should recognized. We see the corruption and the false image the government puts up, and the Honor Party wants to bring it down. The party will start running election campaigns all over this fine state and all over this wonderful country and we will tear the elites and the politicians down, then y’all will see our currency become something again, and our military become something again, and eventually, through not just the Party, but y’all, will see this country become the top dog, the power it has meant to be and God intended it to be!”

The crowd starts cheering, Oskar can’t hardly spot anyone not at the very least clapping till their hands get red. He loved this, he felt a rush overcome him as the people cheered and clapped for him. These wonderful people would not be forgotten, as Oskar never forgot, and would make sure they prospered.

“I’m holding a meeting with some party officials tomorrow and any man or woman who wants to register to vote or see the party up close is welcome to come, that’s where we’ll set up the future of the party, get y’all a candidate and everything. Remember folks, Parliament elections are in a few weeks.
If you’ve seen the truth here today, remember to vote Honor!”

He gives one last wave to the people of Amsel as he starts stepping back. He was covered in sweat, not totally in part due to the muggyness of Öber, and his heart was beating full force. Yes, this was a rush. He tips his straw hat and steps off the wooden stage, going off the meet and talk to the people.

Most people began to leave, satisfied with the speech. A crowd also came to him to talk and meet the man who would bring Honor back. A few people make some small talk, ask him questions. A young boy, probably about 5 comes up to him. “Mr. Honor Party man, will you make vegetables yummy?” Oskar chuckles, a genuine chuckle of joy. Joy? He hadn’t felt joy in a good, long time. He squats to meet the boy eye to eye. “Well, I can’t say that, but I can guarantee I can make it so your family has the money to buy something that is yummy. You like candy?” The boy nods. Oskar hands him two 500 Kroner bank notes. “Take those and go get yourself a treat, you deserve it.” He ruffles the young boy’s hair and then watches him run off. That was why he was doing what he was doing.

A few moments later, he finds himself in the Whiskey and Rye Motel, a type of naming that was common in the Heartland. He walks up to the front desk and asks for a room. The fellow at the desk looks up and smiles. “Hello, Mr. Eroberer. Pleasure to have such an Honorable man here at our motel. I’m sure you are looking for a room?” Oskar nods. “Whatever’s cheap.” He says. He then pulls out his wallet. “Alright, Mr. Eroberer, room 204 is available. One bed, a bathroom, and cheap. 12,000 Kroner for one night.” Oskar grunts in pain, but nods. “Damnit, ok.” He pulls out a a wad of banknotes and counts the amount, and hands him the money. “Alright, you’re all check in, here’s the keys. Honor!” The man gives the party salute. Oskar salutes back and heads to his room.

The next morning, he woke up around 9:30. Today was the day. He gets himself up and puts on a clean pair of the same type of trousers and the same type of undershirt and puts on his straw hat. He goes down to the bottom of the motel and grabs the slosh they were calling free breakfast, which was just powdered eggs and some type of soup, he wasn’t sure what it was exactly. It was bad, but it was free. After quickly eating the shoddy meal, he hauls out to the auditorium the Party was borrowing for their meeting.

He quickly finds the auditorium and enters through the back door, meeting up with a few officials. Hugo Brosch was the party treasurer, and was a former logistics officer in the 6th Panzer Division. Reinhard Sternberg was the party’s propaganda secretary, who had been a mustang, rising to the rank of Soldat to Hauptmann through the course of the GK and the recent Westlicher Krieg. The final official was August Pracht, and was the vice-Chairman of the party. They all were sitting in chairs and were talking to one another. Oskar couldn’t hear them, for the crowd of people sitting and standing in the auditorium had such a collective of noise that the rush from the crowd cheers the day before almost came back to Oskar.

Today though, he had to focus. Today was important. He steps out on to the stage of the auditorium with the rest of the officials and waves at the crowd and gets a cheer, then waves for them to calm down, then takes a seat. “Good evenin’ y’all, pleasure to see so many of you,” he says into the mic on the podium there. “We got a lot to do today, it’s one step closer to Honor!” Triumph still in his voice, he looks over at August Pracht. “I believe the Vice-Chairman has an announcement.”

The slightly plump, jovial man stood up and cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He looks into the crowd and motions for a man to come up to the stage. The man, a tall, tanned farmer came up and waved. “This here is Markus Raeder, and he’s running for Öber’s 5th district in a few weeks under the Honor Party! That’s y’all. If y’all want to see Honor come back to this country and our enemies to reap what they’ve sown, then vote for him!” He pats Raeder on the back and sends him on his way.

Oskar, satisfied, then starts to speak himself. “Reinhard Sternberg and myself have received a request from a fella in Ruhmstadt who runs a radio broadcasting station. This fella wants to start nationwide broadcasts to the whole nation in support of our party and our cause, and so me and Mr. Sternberg have accepted it. Make sure to tune in for music, news, and the truth.” Sternberg stands. “It’s frequency 99.5, of you want to hear it.” The scrawny clerk then nods and sits back down.

Finally, the most important part. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts. The main piece of business here today is that of an idea of mine. As you know, the Government always has a target on our backs, so do the foreign socialists and so do the Kampfians and the Kilkirans. Because of this, we need protection that the Government can’t and won’t provide. So, I move to create a paramilitary wing of the Honor Party called the Honor Guard. This will be an organized group meant to protect and help organize the party and will be instructed to order all those in need. The Guard will be actively recruiting, but membership is not compulsory.”

“I 2nd this,” August Pracht says.

The Propaganda Minister and Treasurer both raise their hands. “As do we.”

Oskar nods. “And so, the Honor Guard is created.” For the third time in a span of two days, he smiles a genuine smile. A new record. Finally, a he had a way to really get back at the Government. With radio broadcasts, and the new Guard, his voice would be heard, the truth would be heard, and the government would have a hell of a trouble spreading lies and broken promises.

One step closer to paying back all that he owed.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

It was a beautiful day in Artzen. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the air was cool and barely humid. Einhard Müller didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Not yet, atleast. Today, he had a mission.

Einhard had finally come back to his hometown of Ochs, in central Artzen. It was an industrial town of about 60,000 people and had a history of aerial production and interest. The recession was hitting the town hard, and they had accepted the Honor Party with open arms. A perfect testing ground.

He stomps down the rather barren street of Ochs in green-grey trousers, an undershirt, and a Stahlhelm on his head, and a polymer club in his hands. With him, was a company of about 80 men, most of them were part of the new Honor Guard, some were Wehrwolves. All of them were veterans though. Civilians nowadays made up more of the party then veterans, but veterans were always the ones who did the dirty work.

And so they marched on, down the streets, a few people occasionally passing by. Some point and whisper to one another in confusion, some others recognize them and clap. They continue until the company leader stops them. “Halt,” he says, his last name was Nemetz or something like that. “Müller, Klopfer, you two take point and get a feel for what we’re dealing with.” Einhard and Klopfer both nod and brake formation, heading to a corner store and peaking to the street on the other side.

Up ahead, the scum of the world stood tall and proud, as if he was sure he would rule forever. Einhard would give the bastard a piece of his mind. A man with big, bright red signs that said “Sozialdemokratischepartei” atop the stage he was stood tall, he was the SDP candidate who was running in the district. The reds had a lot of nerve coming to his town. The man starts to speak to a decent sized crowd at best.

“People of Ochs, I come to you in this time of strife, this time of great trouble, to pledge my ever present assistance. The economic downturn can and will be overturned by the workers if you all choose. The workers can rise and finally bring upon the change we need. And I say, change is needed more then ever before. We have suffered our greatest military defeat, and suffered the loss and humiliation that came with it. Now, we suffer economically to. I say the common people should band together and piece together whatever we have left, and ensure that such a chain of events never happens again. We just ensure that peace forever lasts, we must make friends of our enemies, and we must reconcile with those we feel hatred, for world peace demands it.”

Einhard was now audibly growling, and could hardly keep himself from running up and smashing the red’s head in then and there. Trying his best not to, he turns around with the Klopfer fellow and heads back to the company. “Mr. Nemetz, sir, that fella’s a damn idiot, SDP to. Can we go raise hell now?”

Nemetz’s wrinked, tired, middle aged face turned upwards into such a smile that he looked like a young lad again. He nods. “Get back in formation and we’ll do just that.” Einhard and Klopfer run back into the company formation, and the Honor Guard company starts marching down the street and around the corner to meet the damn red.

The sounds of their boots stomping against the concrete road drown out the lies the red was preaching. He looks over, and a few of his goons start moving upwards through the crowd to see what the commotion was. The crowd, upon realizing what was coming, started to slowly. disperse.

“HONOR!!!”

The roar of their voices came as if thunder and lighting had been brought down by God to Valsora. The company kept moving forward in an organized, disciplined fashion as the dozen or so SDP goons ran up to try and counter them. The Honor Guard Company starts to spread out in a line formation to meet them head on, Einhard smirks a little as he shimmy’s his way to the front.

Then came the clash itself. An SDP goon swung a fist at Einhard, but the goon wasn’t fresh out of the trenches like Einhard. Einhard easily dodges it, then knees the poor fella between the legs, watching him collapse down to the ground with delight. Einhard then takes his club and wacks the goon in the head with it. Another swing from another goon hits Einhard’s Stahlhelm. He stumbles a bit and his head starts throbbing as if he had a migraine, then he turns around with his club and hits the goon in the face with his club, the goon’s face twisting to the side as he spits out blood and bits of teeth. Neither of the two goons get back up, likely unconscious.

The sounds of birds chirping that once filled the town of Ochs was now replaced by the screams of injured and fighting men.

A goon punches a Guard right in the face and stuns the guard before Einhard hits the goon in the ass with his club. The goon yelps and falls down, Einhard kicking him for good measure. The last of the renaming goons realize their thinning numbers and their effort being futile, turn to run. The SDP candidate starts trying to frantically calm them down and get them to rally, but it was fruitless. They needed Honor, just like everybody else, and the party was delivering. The candidate then hops off the stage and starts running with his goons.

Einhard grins, and stands with his comrades triumphantly in the remnant of the campaign of the reds. “Honor!” The men chant the party slogan again and again as they relish in their victory. No one could stand against the Honor Party.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

A cool breeze blows into the long line people coming out of the Rhenick town hall. Johann Speidel smiles to himself. Rhenick was much cooler and far less humid then the places he was deployed with his Division. He also wasn’t 6 feet down in a trench below the ground, worried about what how he was going to die. Instead, he was worrying about the future of the country. Today, was election today.

The republic’s flag flutters in the breeze, hoisted above the town hall. People all around him were standing in line, waiting for their time to vote. His friend, Karl Hoffinger, stands behind him with a cigarette in hand. “So, Johann, how you think that Honorite fella’s gonna do here?” Johann shrugs. “Well, I know he won’t win, this district is too socialist for that. We don’t have to worry unless he gets a large margin of votes though. However, I think the Honor Party, if it does send some candidates up to Parliament, will get a chance to introduce some of it’s idea’s will they’ll be seen nationwide and then people will start to doubt them.” The line moves up a little as people, voters, start to leave from the Town hall exit. “I don’t know,” Karl replies, “as vindictive as we are-Ostarian’s I mean-I think a lot of people will vote for ‘em either way. You hear stories on TV all the time about neighborhood feuds. There was that one in the Glickner suburbs wear a man’s dog sh*t on his neighbor’s door mat so the neighbor bagged up his own sh*t and threw it in the other guy’s car, and no one said boo. If a Rhenick man is vindictive enough to bag up his own sh*t, then we may be in trouble.”

Johann contemplates that for a minute. Ostarian’s were vengeful folk, less so in the Basin, but still vengeful. That made Johann worry. He turns to Karl. “Look, we are also bound to gain ground. Once we do, we can finally teach the masses about the horrors of war, and we can show them that peace and solidarity are what make the world truly go ‘round.” Johann said it sternly, but if it was to comfort Karl or himself, he couldn’t tell. Karl sways his head side to side. “I believe what you say about peace and solidarity, but socialism has never been popular outside of places like this, hell, we’re one of the few area’s that actually supports socialism, most other SDP areas are just progressives or social democrats.”

The line starts to get smaller and smaller as more people come out of the town hall after voting, Johann and Karl keep moving up with the line without a second thought, until they hear shouts coming from the entrance of the town hall. “You hear that, Karl?”

“Yeah I...do.” Both men heard the shout. Both men look at each other in fear. They tilt to the left to see the commotion at the town hall entrance. They see two Honor Guard men in typical Honorite garb waving clubs around and shouting things like “Honor” and “down with the traitors!” A policeman at the townhall entrance comes up to them. “No electioneering! Back away you two!” The Honorite‘s step away a few steps, and one shouts “you’re scared of the truth you damn red!” The rather bulky police officer pulls out his taser and points it. “I said no electioneering, now get out of here before I arrest you two!” The two Honorite’s nod. “Alright, see you in Parliament, damn red!” The two men start marching away, but adjacent to line. “Honor!” They both shout it while giving the Honor Party salute, several men in the line returning the party chant and salute.

Though the scene is over, Karl and Johann’s fear remains. How could such a thing happen in such a solid red state? It wasn’t surprising to see the Honor Guard in Amsel or Marnik, hell, they were even common in Ruhmstadt and Artsbruck, but Rhenick? Johann shivers. And that was why he and Karl were there. The line continues to move forward until Karl and Johann were in the town hall itself. Johann, in front, gives the old woman at the front desk, a teacher, she appeared to be, his ID and full name. She checks his name off a list and sends him to a voting booth.

Johann walks straight in. He votes for the worker and for peace. He checks off every electable seat for the SDP and sighs, a neutral sigh, not one of joy or annoyance. That was that. He had done all he could do to defend Ostarian democracy.

He strolls out of the booth and heads outside, Karl close on his tail. “Welp,” he says. “Now we just gotta wait, I’ll be damned if I know how the future looks though.”

“That, I agree with my friend. The future doesn’t really look bleak or bright. Just uncertain.”

The two men, having done their civic duty and both coming to the same conclusion, start walking off the join in on the new national past time of drinking to forget.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

There was an old Ostarian saying that went, “running with the wind allowed you to go far.” Typically that statement meant that doing the most practical thing got you in high places. That was still the meaning, but it had been tainted. Now it seemed, to Wilfried Burkhardt, that the wind was the Honor Party and running with it was the only way you could go anywhere. A while ago, he had cast his ballot for the ÖKP. Now, he was starting to wish he had voted otherwise.

Wilfried knew the Honor Party was on the war path, and he knew they and their Honor Guard were loud, angry, bullies, but they didn’t lead him on a leash all his life just to ditch him. That’s what he felt. His party, the ÖKP that his family had trusted for generations, had backstabbed him. They had lost the war, they had trashed the economy, and now, they were clearly corrupt just as the Honor Party has claimed they were. Now he understood what the party’s base felt, what they thought.

He himself was a veteran, but an Airforce veteran from the Großer Krieg. The Airforce had gotten into as much action as the navy and the army had seen even less in the GK, and knowing that made Wilfried mad, and he wasn’t a particularly mad person. He didn’t get berated by Felterian missiles to see corrupt elitists drag his country into the out house.

And that was what he explained to his newly wedded wife at the dinner table. “You know Olivia, something’s wrong when I make half a million kroner an hour and I’m worse off then I was before the war.” His wife nodded in agreement as she put dinner on the table, grilled chicken. “We can’t even afford breading for chicken.” Olivia shrugs. “What did I tell you about the Konservatives?” She had voted Honor Party and come around to them much quicker then Wilfried had. “Prices are already a little better and thanks to the new governor’s mining operations, you aren’t driving trucks and clothes only cost a few million kroner and not 20 million kroner like they do in those red states.” She scoffs as she starts picking at her chicken. Wilfried can only nod. “Suppose you’re right, as you typically are.” Another reason he was turning away from the ÖKP is that they hadn’t even really tried to fix the economic mess, and so when he married Olivia, he had to do it in a random government room with a government pastor, and couldn’t even afford a honeymoon.

The two sit in silence for a while and eat before Wilfried gets up and heads to the fridge. “I’m grabbing a beer,” he said beer with scorn, whiskey was too expensive, “You want one honey?”

“No thanks, rather have whiskey.” She must have been thinking the same thing as well. Wilfried sits down and pops the top off and takes a swig at the beer. It tasted like crap, but there was alcohol in it, and it was cheep. Olivia sits down her fork and looks up at him. “There’s a party meeting tomorrow, I think around 3, would you be interested in going? Might get you to see what I see.” She knew he was coming around and wanted him to finally get past the corner. “Alright,” he replies, “we can go.” He stops himself from saying more, he wanted to say how the Honorite’s were crazy nutjobs, but the woman he loved was sitting right in front of him and happened to support the nutjobs. You give and you take. Olivia nods. “Good, we’ll do some cleaning and then head up there.” Wilfried smiles, one more out of custom then joy.

Cleaning. How fun.

The next day came, and the cleaning was done, but made the morning much slower. Wilfried walks over to his car and checks the gas in the tank. Half full. That should be enough. Gas prices of course kept going up, just as everything under the sun. His wife hops into the passenger seat as he hops into the driver’s seat and starts the car, driving off down the rural Grüßen roads to the nearby town of Wirz, where the Honor Party had an office. Passing by fields and getting a good look at the Gruthenic mountains, Wilfried and Olivia finally arrive at the town and park in a gravel parking lot and head to the “office,” but it looked more like a bar. That seemed common of the party. The couple walk up to it and meet the guard at the door. “Hello y’all,” the Guard says cheerfully, “ain’t seen y’all around, new to the party?”

“You could say that,” Wilfried says. “My wife voted for y’all, I’m seeing what she voted for.” The Guard, a smile so bright on his face that he looked like a puppy, steps aside. “Head on in, donations ain’t required but there’s a basket there if y’all want.” Wilfried and Olivia walk in. Inside, they see a combination of folding chairs and wooden stools set up, while a bartender serves drinks and a bearded, graying fellow who looked to be a brawler stood on top of a few wooden crates. Men and women alike talk and laugh and drink together, in a combination of civilian clothes and Party garb. Wilfried and Olivia both nod together, folks seemed fine. They find a pair of stools and sit together. A bulky man in front of them notices and turns around. “Y’all new ‘round here?” When Wilfried nods, the man extends his hand to him. “Pleasure to see new faces around here, as always.” Wilfried accepts his hand and shakes it. “My names Alek Rehn, former Lieutenant in the 15th Infantry.”

“Wilfried Burkhardt, former M-49 pilot in the 8th Carrier Squadron and this is my wife, Olivia Burkhardt.” Alek nods to her. “Again, truly a pleasure to have you here. Now, the meeting’s about to start.”

The man on top of the wooden crates waves, and whoops and shouts come from the crowd of people. “Hello, Wirz!” He says. “For all you newcomers, my name is Patrik Josten, and I serve this District and it’s people in Ruhmstadt!” The crowd claps. “Never thought we’d get there, huh,” he says it with sarcasm and a few in the crowd chuckle. This Josten fella was decent enough as a speaker. “As you can see, we’ve really shown the country what traitors in our government have done, monitoring us and all, writing down whatever word we say. You know why? Because they are afraid. They’re afraid the people, the angry people, are gonna come up and knock on marble, gilded doors and hang for the multiple accounts of treason then have committed. We’ve already started having members of the RSB arrested, and a vote on impeachment happens next time I’m up there.”

The crowd got fiery, Olivia shouts “Honor!” as loud as she can with the rest of the crowd. Wilfried found himself only clapping.

“Folks,” Josten starts again, “this is what we are all about here in the Honor Party. We want to rid the Government of traitors, and then we’ll take over and we’ll fix the economy, we’ll get the Kroner back and get all our factories back and all our farmers will profitable and then we’ll aim at the bastards who wrongs us!”

The crowd cheered even louder, Wilfried even found himself yelling the party chant. He couldn’t believe it. Was he really being seduced by this nutjob Party? Then again, he was paying 150,000 Kroner at highway tolls. The world was truly upside down. The crowd suddenly bursts into song, singing an old tune about the good times that Ostarian life brought. The singing wasn’t exactly good or in tune, but it made Wilfried feel alive. Be felt like he was part of something bigger than he was, and that his country would be at the top again someday. He couldn’t believe it, but he was singing along and so was his wife.

As the meeting ends, Wilfried nods to Olivia, who pulls out two 50,000 Kroner banknotes. It wasn’t much, but it was something. They start walking back to the car. “You know, Olivia, you’re right again,” he didn’t much care that he was conceding, he was in a good mood. “Maybe they are the party this country needs.”

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

It was dark, it was cold, it was quiet. Nothing was visible except for a dim light at the end of the hallway. Oskar Eroberer found himself sweating, his heart was racing. But he stepped forward, and walks to the end of the hallway. He steps out into a large, open area, still completely dark, stepping up a few steps, and onto a stage.

Lights all around the stadium light up to reveal him, a microphone, and thousands upon thousands of people that cheer and clap upon seeing him, soon unifying into a singular chant.

“Honor!”

“Honor!”

“Honor!”

Oskar beams with pride, as the massive crowd chanted his party slogan. Here he was, inside the Staudinger stadium in Teichersberg, the state Capitol of Altmark. Altmark was Oskar’s homestate, and he would see fit that the beginning of his life and the beginning of his greatest accomplishment would happen in the same state.

He waves to the ever louder crowd. He was still in the typical Honor Party garb, but didn’t have a hat and had a green-grey jacket on over his undershirt. He grabs the microphone from it’s holder and looks around at the crowd.

“Folks,” he begins, his twangy German accent and his deep, bellowing voice booming from the microphone, “I’m angry. Angry that we’ve still seen no justice, angry that we’re lead by damned to hell reds, and most certainly angry that we’re still nowhere near close to getting our Honor Back!” The opening statement gets him a massive cheer from the crowd.

“It’s been a while since von Herig was impeached, and the SDP hijacked the position of Chancellor. And what does this socialist asshole do? He’s made the economy worse! He’s increasing our taxes! Can you believe that? Who wants to have to fork over 100 million kroner bank notes that you worked hard to make, just so the socialist can give it to a foreign government?” Allowing the question to hang, the crowd responds with “nobody!”

“Damn right, folks. He’s only increasing regulations on companies that were already barely making a buck, and strangling our economy further. And if you don’t remember, we lost a damn war to reds! So this traitor needs to be booted out of office. This traitor needs to see the our fists right before we knock him clean out! This traitor, needs to see that this country, wants, HONOR!”

Once again, the crowd cheers and starts chanting the party slogan over and over again, before it dies down.

“And so folks, it’s time to bring about the change we have been demanding for years, it’s high time we grab on to the opportunity we have to regain our honor and make sure we never, ever let go this time. It’s time someone finally challenged the establishment and the white bearded fools in our government and make sure that we never, ever fall to their corruption and their idiocy ever again...”

“...so, good people of Ostaria, I am announcing my candidacy for the Office of Chancellor!”

The crowd goes wild, shouts and cries and chants all fill the stadium, as the people rejoice. Oskar would be the man to bring them Honor back, and he was certain that he would do it, no matter what it took and no matter what got in his way. The crowd then starts to chant “Oskar, Oskar, Oskar” over and over again. Oskar loved it, oh how he loved it, relishing in the people chanting his name. He reluctantly waves them down.

“And when we get into the Ruhmes Haus, once we fill up the Capitol, once we throw those red loving fools out on their asses, we can truly bring about the change needed to ensure a thousand years of honor! We’ll get our economy back on track, then we’ll restore the military, then we’ll meet our enemies eye to eye and light them the f*ck up!” The military term was well understood by the populace, and the idea of revenge hit perfectly in the hearts of the crowd, who was cheering and waving flags. “People, I stand here before you with an offer. An offer I don’t see how you can refuse. I am offering to head to Ruhmstead and rid our government of traitors and fools so we can once again see the day when we are on top, when in a world full of eagles, ours is king. If you elect me come that day, then we’ll see Ostaria spread it’s wings higher then it ever has before, and we ain’t ever gonna come down from our place in the sun!”

The crowd once again breaks out into cheers and claps and waving flags ecstatically upon hearing that their country could once again be on top. It was a well known trait of Ostarian’s to be nationalistic and Oskar was no different. If he preached high things for Ostaria and it’s people, then he’d certainly be on top. “God bless you all and have one hell of a night!” He gives the Honor Party salute, the crowd returning it. Then, the crowd and Oskar shout in unison, “HONOR!” More cheers and shouts come from the crowd as a smiling Oskar waves at them and walks off the stage.

Only one more step to go before he would pay back every single debt he owed in full.

Oskar didn’t leave till very late at night. Though he loved interacting with the crowds, he was tired and wanted to get to his motel room without much trouble. Wearing a straw hat, he walks out into the cool, Teichersberg night. A few people pass by, but most of the stadium crowd had left a while ago. He breathes in the air, satisfied that it’s not the muggy humid air of the Capitol.

After walking for a bit, and passing onto the street of his motel, something bumps his leg and he almost trips. Looking down, he sees a ragged, dirty Ostarian Shepherd on the sidewalk, shivering in the night. Gathering himself, Oskar bends down and pet’s the dog. “The hell’s your owner, pal?” The dog just whimpers. “Gone I bet, hardly anyone has the income to feed y’all.” Oskar then puts his arm around the dog and picks it up, and starts heading to the Teichersberg Honor Party office instead of his motel. “I’m sure your smarter then anyone in government,” he says, “let’s get you taken care of than.” Oskar felt honorbound to do plenty of things, hence why he was running for Chancellor, but this seemed like it made the list.

Osterreich und Ungarn wrote:

The last elections had been pretty mellow. It was just for Parliament and the Honor Party was still an upstart. But now..the Honor Party was a true political and paramilitary force, and its opposite, the SDP was in office. This had made Einhard Müller’s life busy as a member of the Honor Guard. For the last three days, he has been enduring the hell that was Ebfurt, the largest city in the nation.

However, Ebfurt was bleeding, as was the Honorite next to Einhard who stumbles over, clenching his hip. “F*cker’s got a knife,” he yelps, before screaming in agony. Einhard turns around and wacks the knife wielding SDP stalwart in the head with his club before falling back a few steps with his patrol of about 12. Though it was the thick of night, fires caused by rioting civilians were keeping it bright enough to where Einhard could see around him, as well as the rock coming towards his face. He ducks as the rock instead hits the glass window of a building. With military precision, his eyes immediately turn towards a civilian with a red armband running away, Einhard immediately running off to purse him.

Einhard starts to catch up before another civilian throws themselves at him, tackling Einhard to the ground. Lifting with his legs, he starts to stand up before the civilian throws him down again, Einhard’s face planting itself firmly in the paved road. He frees an arm and manages to hit the civilian in the face, knocking him off Einhard as one of his patrol men comes and starts to beat the civilian with his club. Einhard stands up and wipes some blood from his nose. “This is that f*cking democracy y’all love so much,” he shouts, aimed at no one in particular, rather the whole lot of idiots and fools’ he wished for a chance to purge.

Looking around the street, he sees no immediate danger and gathers his patrol, marching to a quieter street. Staying close to the buildings, they walk in a line formation. “Scharführer,” one of Einhard’s patrol men says, citing Einhard’s Honor Guard rank, “what’s the plan?”

Einhard stops the squad for a moment. “Hell if I know, we’re lost and we have no comms.” Upon saying that, he chuckles to himself. “Not something I expect to say in one of our one cities.” The patrolmen nods, then says “well we’re here to protect the Honorites and prevent the traitors from spreading lies, ain’t we?”

“Yes, Schütze,” another guard rank, “but we have to be organized while doing it. There are people out there just about killing one another and setting shops on fire. My say is we try and make our way back to the Party HQ on the east end and and get a larger force so we can bring both order and Honor to these people.” The Schütze nods, then gives the party salute, as Einhard rallies his men. They treck past some rubble, and pass along some streets before they see a woman with a lamp out on the street. Einhard and his men start to approach, before the woman runs up to them.

“Please tell me you all are Honorites,” she says. Einhard nods, “Damn sure are, there are Problem?”

“Yes, this is the eastern side of the city, this one is supposed to be controlled by y’all, but a horde of reds came down here yelling and shooting.” Einhard looks over at one of his patrolmen. “Well, ma’am, things are a little disorganized right now, but if you tell us which way they went, I’m sure we can deal with ‘em.” The woman points to the other side of the street. “Went down that way than turned left.” Einhard cusses, they were headed to the Party HQ. “Thank you ma’am,” he says, then giving the party chant and salute, and taking his patrol down that way.

Soon, they found themselves on the same street as the Honor Party HQ, which was a formerly vacant office building. But the HQ wasn’t visible, due mainly to the massive horde of socialist rioters. Einhard cusses again. “Alright, some of the nearby precincts are on our side, if we swing by and get the police to come help, we can get rid of ‘em, to many for us to handle. The patrolmen nod and the squad starts running towards the nearby precinct, precinct 3.

Upon arriving, they find a few fellow Honor Guards talking with some policemen outside. Einhard rushes up to the station door, and meets the police officer there. “Excuse me, Officer, we got a real bad riot in front of the party HQ, and I mean real bad. Could you help?”

The policeman shrugs, “damn if I know. I’ll ask the chief but a lot of our squads are already dispatched.” The Officer then heads inside. As they wait, the patrol discusses the state of the city. “Damn,” one patrolmen says, “feels like a battlefield, with fronts and everything.” Einhard nods at that. “Yep, guess thats what happens when reds take over the country. Shame though, considering that this is our largest city.”

The officer then suddenly comes out with 2 more officers in riot gear and a few grenade launchers. “These are our last guys, but they got tear gas and everything. Bring ‘em back in one piece. Honor!” The Officer heads back in.

The patrol, with its new members, heads back to the party HQ. They find the socialist horde banging on the barricaded door with rocks and tossing bricks and beer bottles through the windows. Einhard pats the shoulder to get the attention of one of the riot police and points to a man lighting a Molotov. The police officer rushes forward with Einhard and two of the Honorites at his side. “Alright you bastards,” the officer shouts, “head back to your side of the city right damn now!” The rioters continues to shout and throw things, with a couple of stalwarts coming to the end of the rioters to try and force back the Honorite patrol. The man with the Molotov cocks his arm back to throw before the police officer fires a tear gas canister straight into them.

The rioters cry out in fear and start to rush away, as the man with the molotov drops it in surprise and lights himself on fire, almost dancing around in shock, soon collapsing on the ground, burnt to a crisp. Einhard and the Honorites then rush forward, heading towards any of the remaining socialists. Einhard finds a stalwart trying to get up before he shoves the stalwart down, then stomping down his gut, the stalwart writhing in pain. Another one tries to run away before an Honorite throws a rock at him.

With the rioters gone, Einhard goes towards the wall of the Honor Party HQ and slumps down, his face bruised and his nose still bleeding a little, bits of broken glass and bricks sitting around him. He sighs. “They just gotta get outta the way,” he exclaims. “Socialists don’t have no honor in ‘em.”

Sorry if I did something bad Osterreich und Ungarn, I was just bored.

The San Sierran Republic of Shavara

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