by Max Barry

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"Long live the king!"

A three-times chant with the voice of the entire nation rang out from outside the Mirobein Cathedral. It had been one year since the Truce that ended the Great War, and only a month since the signing of the Treaty of San Cleare. The Alliance had its way: Miklozia was defeated. But it wasn't just a military defeat. The defeat was prevalent everywhere. Not a soul smiled in the streets of the capital, once a bustling hub of art and culture.

Nowhere was the defeat more extreme then in the loss of the nation's dearest king. The young, handsome, intelligent and popular Mikhael I. Mothers cried, children wept when they heard the news, that the King had been slain in battle while on campaign in Exoa. The nation was demoralized.

"I did warn him." Eduard Sauber said immodestly to Constantin Marin, head of the Monodoxic Church, who rolled his eyes in response once he knew Sauber had once again shifted his attention. Despite Sauber being the de facto regent and ruler of the nation, none of the eyes in the room were on him. They were all on the body.

Most in the room were of the peasant class, a line forming from the large front door, going in and to a modest point near the body (poised to descend below the floor of the Cathedral), and ending at the same door. Around the body, the aristocracy and elite of the defeated Kingdom were gathered. Sauber gazed toward the other side of the room, and saw the king's mother be rushed out of the room in tears.

"Long live the king!"

Despite the dire circumstances and the somber, quiet attitude of those gathered inside, the crowd outside cheered with all the vigor as though Mikhael was still alive. It was the kind of crowd the King himself would have reveled in during his life. The kind that the aristocrats hated that the young monarch would indulge in.

Most of the peasants, despite the crowd, never knew the King. They just heard stories, fantastical stories of heroism on the Front and his own battles fighting for the rights of the peasant-class, long forgotten by the elite and royal family. Seeing his face now, still young, still pure, wearing his white and gold garb decorated with countless medals from the War, still filled the people passing by with passion and hope. Although it was royal procedure that the garb of the king be reserved only for the living monarch during royal ceremony, nobody seemed to object when Marin suggested he be buried in the outfit. Sauber consented to spending millions of ions fixing up the body. Miklozia had imported a team of experts from its old ally in Exoa in order to remove the bullets from his body, get rid of the scars, clean the dirt out. Nasty business, as Sauber's heard. But it was important for his own image, Sauber believed, that Mikhael look in his prime.

"I told him." Sauber repeated toward Marin again. "Settle down, find a wife..."

"Eduard, please." Constantin said simply, making his frustrations clear, causing Sauber to look toward him with brief surprise, before quieting himself.

"Long live the king!"

It rang out one last time, as the Red Legion stopped the lines advanced and later closed the Cathedral's great door. A team of foreign photographers took some photos of the corpse, before being rushed out as well. The Menodoxic Priests began preparing to lower the body.

Sauber had an idea, and relayed it to Marin. Despite his dislike, the holy leader agreed, and suddenly got up, and moved to the team of priests.

Many were confused, but Sauber's intentions became quickly clear to the gathered aristocrats. Lukas Gabor, a fairly influential aristocrat who never personally liked the King himself, looked down upon Sauber and Marin's complicity in hatred. Marin announced to the group in a quiet tone, the burial would be delayed.

It was announced the next day. A shrine would be built for Mikhael. The Exoan team would stay, and Mikhael could remain a symbol of stability, even after his death. It would be costly, but Sauber didn't really care. He snickered at his own cleverness.

Exoa, Mahina, Arcadisia, Greater Niagara, and 2 othersCathanistan, and Luanwarel

A nation on the verge of collapse

"Was it worth it?" -Exoan King Erwin Schulz

The Great war has retained a lasting effect on the once great nation of Exoa, once a powerful empire. Now a crumbling parliamentary republic, crippling reparations, core territory occupied by foreign nations. She is in a dire state, her people sulk through the streets, hyper-inflation has destroyed the national economy. Her army stands in ruins, being forced to a meager 150,000 troops, an airforce out of the question. A Navy? You can forget about it, massive treaties weigh against her. Her ally, Forcing Miklozia to face the same scenario. Two powers, left to ruin. Exoa into submission, though the question stands. How long will that last?

Many cities of the still newly created republic stood damaged and in dire need of repairs from the destruction caused by the war. The king of the Exoan empire had been forced into exile in the neighboring Hundsland, which retained core territory from the empire. The rapid change in government transition has rattled the nation into a spiraling path closer and closer to anarchy.

The chancellor slumped in his chair, the sunlight dimly lit up the room through the blinds. Smoke from a number of cigars filled the air, on his desk rested papers and reports from across his nation. All the reports were somber and depressing, good news was hard to come by in this time. Of course he was the chancellor, chancellor Angelo Hönigberg. He had been elected to this position after a rushed government transition after the Great War crippled the nation. Angelo had been trying his best to right the ship, though he knew he was failing. He knew his nation was slipping farther and farther away from his control. He took a sip from the glass of whiskey that was on his desk and sighed. There was a press meeting he had to attend, to discuss the state of the republic.

"Was it worth it?" -Exoan King Erwin Schulz

Angelo stood silent for a moment, that statement. It has haunted him since the end of the war. The Exoan king had stated that as he was forced on a train to Hundsland. He was among the group of men on the train platform as they sent him to his exile. Angelo had been apart of the ministry of defense when the war began and ended, he played a significant hand in the war and how it played out. He quickly snapped back from his thoughts and looked at the reporter who asked the question.

"Sorry, my mind wandered off a bit there. Anywho, yes we are working to reconstruct infrastructure in areas heavily affected from the war", Angelo Straightened his tie.

The crackle of photographs being taken filled the noise in the room till another reporter spoke up, "The Daily Reporter here. Why has it taken years to get a concentrated response from the government to fix our DAMN NATION!?". Several policemen took a glance at the man as he got louder.

"Please, please. Let's remain civil.", Angelo sighed as he prepared the response. "We've... We've had trouble receiving information from certain areas"

"Excuse me what?", the reporter looked puzzled.

"Yes, I know I realize it's a problem. We are currently actively looking for a solution to fix this problem." Angelo responded before looking over the room. He took a notice that many of the reporters hung their heads low. Many of them looked as though they lacked nutrition and were struggling to even get by. He stood there for a moment, contemplating what he was witnessing. He then quickly raised his hand, "That's enough questions for now. I'm sorry, there will be a press conference later tomorrow.". As he left the stage through a back door he had the haunting line rolling over in his mind.

"Was it worth it?" -Exoan King Erwin Schulz

"The question nobody wants to ask"
March 7th, 1920
Mirobein, Miklozia

It was one day until the Shrine would be opened. Until the body of Andreas's greatest friend would be degraded forever as a public attraction. It boiled Andreas to his core. His best friend had become a politician's tool. The room was fairly spacious, the walls painted black (to give the illusion of respect, no doubt), and paintings stolen from the Miklozian Museum of Art hung on those walls. On one side of the room hung paintings depicting the greatest moments of the royal family's past, on the other the greatest of Mikhael's own life (although depictions of his service during the War were noticeably lacking).

The observation room itself only made up about 1/4 of the building. The rest was dedicated to the growing team of imported Exoan scientists tasked with 'maintaining the body'. It made Andreas sick to his stomach just thinking of it.

Andreas moved up from the black-cushioned bench he was sitting on, and made his way to Mikhael's display. He was encased in a box of glass, laid against a stone table. Surrounding the box were candles unceremoniously dripping wax onto the tile below. He wore his royal uniform, his face as alive as ever. Andreas counted the medals on his chest, recounting every ceremony as though it was just yesterday.

Four years going through university with his best friend. Five years serving as his second in command. Mikhael predicted on the front that every day would be his last, and fought like it. He fought like Hell every day until his prediction came true. Andreas suppressed the urge to vomit staring at the corpse. He looked so young, so real, but Andreas knew better. He remembered vividly he found Mikhael on the other end of the forest, blood draining from his forehead, a firing squad had dispensed him. He looked a little closer. Even the professional Exoan scientists couldn't fully remove the scar- his forehead indented slightly at the bullet's entry point. Andreas was sure if the body was flipped over, the back of the head, where the bullet exited, would tell another story than the scientists and the politicians wanted.

"Mr. Alscher?"

A voice rang out from the shrine's entrance. Andreas reeled from the corpse, as two men entered the room. The first, who called out for him initially, Andreas had never met. He was tall and wore a tan suit. The man behind him Andreas knew immediately. He visibly cringed, trying his best to remain professional.

"Mr. Sauber." The regent of the Kingdom himself.

"Please, sit down." The other, tan-suited man said, directing Andreas to one of the cushioned chairs.

"No, I think I'll stand." Andreas said simply, stone-faced, making both his apprehension and opposition to whatever Sauber planned to use him for known.

The tan-suited man stared daggers at Andreas.

"That's alright, Lawrenz." The regent said, moving closer to Andreas. Behind the grey streaks of hair over his eyes, Andreas could see vulnerability in Sauber's eyes. Sauber was extremely unpopular to everyone but the Queen-Mother, the last remaining member of the original Royal Family. His power and position were hanging on a thread, and nobody - not even Sauber - knew how long that thread was. "I need your help, Mr. Alscher."

"That's no surprise." Andreas said, raising an eyebrow despite his apprehension, curious.

Sauber gave a subtle smile, a frail attempt at humility.

"Well Mr. Alscher, you were very close to the late King, and was his Private Secretary during the troubled times." That's one way to speak of the worst war in human history, Andreas thought and sighed. "I simply have a few questions for you." The Regent rested his arm gently on the glass box containing the body of the King, as though the situation was completely casual. Sauber's disrespect amazed Andreas whenever he read the newspaper or heard from the few elites who still corresponded with him, and continued to amaze him now. "During the late period of his life, did his Majesty have any women with whom he was consistently... intimate?"

"What?" Andreas said, reeling in shock. "No, not since University."

"Alright." Sauber said, completely serious in his tone. "Did he... ever have any... flings? One night type situations?"

Andreas boiled, his attempt at professionalism leaving him quickly. "How dare you!? You would insult his honor and integrity in the presence of his corpse, which you continue to parade to the public as a political tool!? How dare you?" Andreas repeated, quieting himself a smidgen, the passion not leaving his voice.

Still stonefaced, Sauber responded. "Okay." He said simply. "I just needed to make sure, Mr. Alscher, before I offered you this assignment."

"Assignment?" Andreas said, the passion dying down and being replaced by curiosity.

"Yes, originally it was going to be for one of the MSF, but we figured you'd be better at it."

"The MSF? Weren't they disbanded?"

"Don't believe everything you hear, Mr. Alscher." Sauber responded simply. "As you know, the official record of the succession was destroyed by the United Alliance since we refused to democratize." That sentence alone said leagues about how disconnected with the Miklozian people and who Mikhael was, Andreas thought. "After the Fall of Mirobein-"

"Mikhael knew the Alliance would target him explicitly, yes. I was there, Mr. Sauber."

"Right," The tan-suited Lawrenz, who hadn't spoke since his entrance, suddenly joined the conversation. "so then you remember what His Majesty did to secure the future of the great Miroberian Dynasty?" Before Andreas could answer, the tan-suited man continued. "He sent two telegrams. One to King Erwin of Exoa, and the other to a priest in Mirobein, who has since disappeared. What did those telegrams say, Mr. Alscher?"

Andreas sighed, both annoyed by Lawrenz and his question. "I don't know." Andreas said simply, causing Lawrenz to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. "At the time when he told me they related to the succession. Our lines to Vekson were down. He had one of the men travel on horseback to the Exoan capital to deliver the message.

"Did the Exoan King receive this message?"

"I don't know."

"Well," Sauber said, leaning back into the conversation. "if you accept this assignment, you'll be finding out. I need you to investigate the lost telegrams and find the successor to the throne. Your first duty will be going to Hundsland and talking with Erwin."

Andreas gazed down at Mikhael's face. His youth, his dignity, the indent of his wound. Whether Sauber was asking him or not didn't matter. This was for Mikhael.

I'll do it."

Mahina and Arcadisia

Post self-deleted by Iserk.

Miklozia wrote:"The question nobody wants to ask"
March 7th, 1920
Mirobein, Miklozia

It was one day until the Shrine would be opened. Until the body of Andreas's greatest friend would be degraded forever as a public attraction. It boiled Andreas to his core. His best friend had become a politician's tool. The room was fairly spacious, the walls painted black (to give the illusion of respect, no doubt), and paintings stolen from the Miklozian Museum of Art hung on those walls. On one side of the room hung paintings depicting the greatest moments of the royal family's past, on the other the greatest of Mikhael's own life (although depictions of his service during the War were noticeably lacking).

The observation room itself only made up about 1/4 of the building. The rest was dedicated to the growing team of imported Exoan scientists tasked with 'maintaining the body'. It made Andreas sick to his stomach just thinking of it.

Andreas moved up from the black-cushioned bench he was sitting on, and made his way to Mikhael's display. He was encased in a box of glass, laid against a stone table. Surrounding the box were candles unceremoniously dripping wax onto the tile below. He wore his royal uniform, his face as alive as ever. Andreas counted the medals on his chest, recounting every ceremony as though it was just yesterday.

Four years going through university with his best friend. Five years serving as his second in command. Mikhael predicted on the front that every day would be his last, and fought like it. He fought like Hell every day until his prediction came true. Andreas suppressed the urge to vomit staring at the corpse. He looked so young, so real, but Andreas knew better. He remembered vividly he found Mikhael on the other end of the trench, blood draining from his forehead, an Allied sniper having got him. He looked a little closer. Even the professional Exoan scientists couldn't fully remove the scar- his forehead indented slightly at the bullet's entry point. Andreas was sure if the body was flipped over, the back of the head, where the bullet exited, would tell another story than the scientists and the politicians wanted.

"Mr. Alscher?"

A voice rang out from the shrine's entrance. Andreas reeled from the corpse, as two men entered the room. The first, who called out for him initially, Andreas had never met. He was tall and wore a tan suit. The man behind him Andreas knew immediately. He visibly cringed, trying his best to remain professional.

"Mr. Sauber." The regent of the Kingdom himself.

"Please, sit down." The other, tan-suited man said, directing Andreas to one of the cushioned chairs.

"No, I think I'll stand." Andreas said simply, stone-faced, making both his apprehension and opposition to whatever Sauber planned to use him for known.

The tan-suited man stared daggers at Andreas.

"That's alright, Lawrenz." The regent said, moving closer to Andreas. Behind the grey streaks of hair over his eyes, Andreas could see vulnerability in Sauber's eyes. Sauber was extremely unpopular to everyone but the Queen-Mother, the last remaining member of the original Royal Family. His power and position were hanging on a thread, and nobody - not even Sauber - knew how long that thread was. "I need your help, Mr. Alscher."

"That's no surprise." Andreas said, raising an eyebrow despite his apprehension, curious.

Sauber gave a subtle smile, a frail attempt at humility.

"Well Mr. Alscher, you were very close to the late King, and was his Private Secretary during the troubled times." That's one way to speak of the worst war in human history, Andreas thought and sighed. "I simply have a few questions for you." The Regent rested his arm gently on the glass box containing the body of the King, as though the situation was completely casual. Sauber's disrespect amazed Andreas whenever he read the newspaper or heard from the few elites who still corresponded with him, and continued to amaze him now. "During the late period of his life, did his Majesty have any women with whom he was consistently... intimate?"

"What?" Andreas said, reeling in shock. "No, not since University."

"Alright." Sauber said, completely serious in his tone. "Did he... ever have any... flings? One night type situations?"

Andreas boiled, his attempt at professionalism leaving him quickly. "How dare you!? You would insult his honor and integrity in the presence of his corpse, which you continue to parade to the public as a political tool!? How dare you?" Andreas repeated, quieting himself a smidgen, the passion not leaving his voice.

Still stonefaced, Sauber responded. "Okay." He said simply. "I just needed to make sure, Mr. Alscher, before I offered you this assignment."

"Assignment?" Andreas said, the passion dying down and being replaced by curiosity.

"Yes, originally it was going to be for one of the MSF, but we figured you'd be better at it."

"The MSF? Weren't they disbanded?"

"Don't believe everything you hear, Mr. Alscher." Sauber responded simply. "As you know, the official record of the succession was destroyed by the United Alliance since we refused to democratize." That sentence alone said leagues about how disconnected with the Miklozian people and who Mikhael was, Andreas thought. "After the Fall of Mirobein-"

"Mikhael knew the Alliance would target him explicitly, yes. I was there, Mr. Sauber."

"Right," The tan-suited Lawrenz, who hadn't spoke since his entrance, suddenly joined the conversation. "so then you remember what His Majesty did to secure the future of the great Miroberian Dynasty?" Before Andreas could answer, the tan-suited man continued. "He sent two telegrams. One to King Erwin of Exoa, and the other to a priest in Mirobein, who has since disappeared. What did those telegrams say, Mr. Alscher?"

Andreas sighed, both annoyed by Lawrenz and his question. "I don't know." Andreas said simply, causing Lawrenz to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. "At the time when he told me they related to the succession. Our lines to Vekson were down. He had one of the men travel on horseback to the Exoan capital to deliver the message.

"Did the Exoan King receive this message?"

"I don't know."

"Well," Sauber said, leaning back into the conversation. "if you accept this assignment, you'll be finding out. I need you to investigate the lost telegrams and find the successor to the throne. Your first duty will be going to Hundsland and talking with Erwin."

Andreas gazed down at Mikhael's face. His youth, his dignity, the indent of his wound. Whether Sauber was asking him or not didn't matter. This was for Mikhael.

I'll do it."

After the meeting, Andreas was given by the agent Lawrenz a train ticket and a time of departure, and the two left. Andreas wondered at his exit how long Sauber would last. The man was a fool, but a clever one at that. Putting Mikhael on display, and now this. Sauber and Andreas both knew that the man's loyalties were not to his country or its preservation- it never was. No, Andreas was still loyal to Mikhael to the end, and now even afterward. Finding the next king, Andreas thought, was what his greatest friend would have wanted. Despite the importance of the task, he didn't hesitate. He gazed back down at the body, now alone in the dark room, and shed a tear or two. He wasn't really focused.

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Colone, Exoa
May, 1919

"WHERE THE HELL ARE THE REINFORCEMENTS I WAS PROMISED!?" The King of Miklozia, the young, strong and energetic Mikhael, did not look like the dignified, head of one of the oldest absolute monarchies like he was. His face was covered in dirt, mud and blood. He held a rusted Exoan rifle in his hand. His voice was now instinctively loud to be heard over the fire of Alliance artillery, the League machine guns, the screams of the injured in the medical tents.

The private adjacent Andreas muttered something that nobody could hear.

"SPEAK UP PRIVATE!"

"Ye-YES YOUR MAJESTY!" He started, clearing his throat. "GENERAL SPITZER SAYS HE NEEDS ALL OF HIS DIVISIONS TO PROTECT THE NORTHERN CORRIDOR!"

Mikhael muttered something that might have been "Damnit!", and Andreas could tell the King was weighing his options. The southern district of the city, which Mikhael and his army was slated to protect against the Alliance's advance, had been completely neglected by the Exoans. He wondered how long his men could hold out. He cradled his face in his hands, knowing the situation was becoming more desperate by the minute.

"YOUR MAJESTY!" A voice rang out from behind Andreas. "A TELEGRAM FROM THE CAPITAL!"

Mikhael got up and moved slowly to grasp the paper from the hand of his communications officer. A part of him, having read the reports of the war back home, knew what he was likely going to read. Still, he held out hope that the news may be good.

He simply gazed it over, and allowed his hand to fall to his side. All eyes on him, he began wandering away. Andreas followed. "What is it, Mikhael?" He said, too knowing what the message likely said. After he had reached his own tent, he slumped into his makeshift desk's chair. "Mikhael?"

The king reached his hand out to Andreas, giving him the paper. He read it as quick as the king did.

"Mirobein

The city has fallen

UA troops hold the Palace

UA has destroyed the Royal Archive

Whereabouts of Sauber unknown"

"It's uh," Andreas started, trying to think of a positive spin. "not that bad? We'll still have Horthia, and the countryside."

"Andreas," Mikhael looked up at his greatest and oldest friend. His most loyal ally, his brother in arms, his equal. Despite the fact that Mikhael made it clear that he thought of Andreas, and the rest of Miklozia that way, Andreas could not recognize his expression. It was new, and it was aged. "You have always been my greatest friend. I want you to know that." Mikhael stopped himself, in deep thought. "The Alliance will be after me now, I am sure of it. They will want to rid Miklozia and the world of royalty- er, at least the kind that dares to fight against them. I have become a symbol to my nation, and they'll think me better as a martyr. Their destruction of our archives proves it. Andreas, I need your help."

The tent grew silent, the sound of artillery and gun shots still prevalent in the distance. "I need three sheets of paper, and a pen."

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

Exoa

The train came to an abrupt stop. Andreas had been encourage by the train's crew to sleep during the journey, but he couldn't. Sleep was a luxury not given generously to grieving men. Andreas was focused. The events of Mikhael's last days alive played back in his memory on repeat. Was there something he could've done differently to prevent his greatest friend's death? Probably not. But it sure felt like there was.

"Andreas, I need your help."

He shook the thoughts from his mind, and returned his focus to his cabin's window. He expected to see more of the ruins of Hundsland, but instead saw the ruins of an urban center. He was there. Portersberg, the capital of Hundsland.

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

The address was not difficult to find. The estate itself was in a central location (only a block from the Exoan embassy), in the largely untouched wealthy residential portion of the city. The modest building was light blue, with gold-rimmed windows.

Andreas walked up to the door, and knocked. A man answered.

"Hello, I'm Andreas Alscher. I'm with the MSF. I need to speak with His Majesty regarding a message sent to him in May of 1919."

Exoa, Mahina, and Arcadisia

Miklozia wrote:After the meeting, Andreas was given by the agent Lawrenz a train ticket and a time of departure, and the two left. Andreas wondered at his exit how long Sauber would last. The man was a fool, but a clever one at that. Putting Mikhael on display, and now this. Sauber and Andreas both knew that the man's loyalties were not to his country or its preservation- it never was. No, Andreas was still loyal to Mikhael to the end, and now even afterward. Finding the next king, Andreas thought, was what his greatest friend would have wanted. Despite the importance of the task, he didn't hesitate. He gazed back down at the body, now alone in the dark room, and shed a tear or two. He wasn't really focused.

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

Colone, Exoa
May, 1919

"WHERE THE HELL ARE THE REINFORCEMENTS I WAS PROMISED!?" The King of Miklozia, the young, strong and energetic Mikhael, did not look like the dignified, head of one of the oldest absolute monarchies like he was. His face was covered in dirt, mud and blood. He held a rusted Exoan rifle in his hand. His voice was now instinctively loud to be heard over the fire of Alliance artillery, the League machine guns, the screams of the injured in the medical tents.

The private adjacent Andreas muttered something that nobody could hear.

"SPEAK UP PRIVATE!"

"Ye-YES YOUR MAJESTY!" He started, clearing his throat. "GENERAL SPITZER SAYS HE NEEDS ALL OF HIS DIVISIONS TO PROTECT THE NORTHERN CORRIDOR!"

Mikhael muttered something that might have been "Damnit!", and Andreas could tell the King was weighing his options. The southern district of the city, which Mikhael and his army was slated to protect against the Alliance's advance, had been completely neglected by the Exoans. He wondered how long his men could hold out. He cradled his face in his hands, knowing the situation was becoming more desperate by the minute.

"YOUR MAJESTY!" A voice rang out from behind Andreas. "A TELEGRAM FROM THE CAPITAL!"

Mikhael got up and moved slowly to grasp the paper from the hand of his communications officer. A part of him, having read the reports of the war back home, knew what he was likely going to read. Still, he held out hope that the news may be good.

He simply gazed it over, and allowed his hand to fall to his side. All eyes on him, he began wandering away. Andreas followed. "What is it, Mikhael?" He said, too knowing what the message likely said. After he had reached his own tent, he slumped into his makeshift desk's chair. "Mikhael?"

The king reached his hand out to Andreas, giving him the paper. He read it as quick as the king did.

"Mirobein

The city has fallen

UA troops hold the Palace

UA has destroyed the Royal Archive

Whereabouts of Sauber unknown"

"It's uh," Andreas started, trying to think of a positive spin. "not that bad? We'll still have Horthia, and the countryside."

"Andreas," Mikhael looked up at his greatest and oldest friend. His most loyal ally, his brother in arms, his equal. Despite the fact that Mikhael made it clear that he thought of Andreas, and the rest of Miklozia that way, Andreas could not recognize his expression. It was new, and it was aged. "You have always been my greatest friend. I want you to know that." Mikhael stopped himself, in deep thought. "The Alliance will be after me now, I am sure of it. They will want to rid Miklozia and the world of royalty- er, at least the kind that dares to fight against them. I have become a symbol to my nation, and they'll think me better as a martyr. Their destruction of our archives proves it. Andreas, I need your help."

The tent grew silent, the sound of artillery and gun shots still prevalent in the distance. "I need three sheets of paper, and a pen."

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

Exoa

The train came to an abrupt stop. Andreas had been encourage by the train's crew to sleep during the journey, but he couldn't. Sleep was a luxury not given generously to grieving men. Andreas was focused. The events of Mikhael's last days alive played back in his memory on repeat. Was there something he could've done differently to prevent his greatest friend's death? Probably not. But it sure felt like there was.

"Andreas, I need your help."

He shook the thoughts from his mind, and returned his focus to his cabin's window. He expected to see more of the ruins of Hundsland, but instead saw the ruins of an urban center. He was there. Portersberg, the capital of Hundsland.

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

The address was not difficult to find. The estate itself was in a central location (only a block from the Exoan embassy), in the largely untouched wealthy residential portion of the city. The modest building was light blue, with gold-rimmed windows.

Andreas walked up to the door, and knocked. A man answered.

"Hello, I'm Andreas Alscher. I'm with the MSF. I need to speak with His Majesty regarding a message sent to him in May of 1919."

An expected visit

The man answered the door gingerly, as though he was trying to avoid as much noise as possible. He was a quite modestly dressed butler, a steam-rolled tweed suit adorned him. He looked down at the men at the door to his king's residence.

"The MSF? I had heard word that it was disbanded as the war came to a close?", He responded with a stroke of his goatee. "However, if you wish. Follow me, and please refrain from touching anything", he flatly stated as he opened the door completely. With a flick of his hand he motioned for them follow him to the back of the estate, to a large porch area. On the brick and cement porch sat many exquisitely crafted wooden rocking chairs, along with beside the porch an enclosed greenhouse. Though beyond the porch itself laid out a vast yard, with a pond being overshadowed by a large willow tree. Behind the yard a massive hill arose overshadowing the property, with a trail snaking it's way to the top. On the trail a tall man was wandering down the path, from a distance it looked like he was carrying a long stick. "There is the majesty, just on his daily hunting extravaganza. Now just wait here and he'll be with you in a few moments.", and with that the butler turned around and entered back into the house. After a few moments Erwin stepped onto the porch.

"Ahhh, visitors. It has been a while since I've had anyone come out this way", he smirked behind his handlebar mustache. He cleaned off his hands by a water spout nearby and rested his bolt-action rifle on the greenhouse wall. "So what brings the supposedly disbanded MSF to me?", Erwin crosses his arms as he looks at the man in front of him.

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Angelo walked through the streets of Vekson, witnessing the depressing atmosphere that had befallen the capital and the country as a whole. As he rode in the back of his Dimler Model-SE, riding past many shops which had closed shop in order to try and consolidate their savings to survive. He also noticed children stacking what looked to be "blocks" of Exoan Dollars. Using them as if they were play things, and not important pieces of paper for purchasing items. Though he knew full well of his countries hyper-inflation, he personally thought that he could lower it by minting more money. Which in turn made the situation worse, leading to possible teetering on the edge of revolution. There were several opposition parties rising in power among the populace, each more radical than the last. Beside him in his automobile was his secretary of state, Heinz Schulte.

"Do you see this horror?", Angelo let out the question. He fiddled with an envelope that held a ticket for the Opera that they were on their way to.

"Unfortunately sir... This is how's it's been for a while now", Heinz looked out the window at the streets lined with people struggling to find work or even food.

Angelo sighed before letting out another response, "This has to change, for both the health of our country and our democracy."

Heinz then took a look at the Chancellor, "Yes, the radicals are gathering strength. Soon this country could be at war again... and not with another nation."

Angelo remained silent and held a hand to his face, scowling as he knew the situation in Exoa was becoming more and more dire with every passing day.

Pluviae aetheres

The glass shattered against the wall and the sweet nectar that had been encapsulated within trickled down onto the floor. Normally, Lexi would’ve been deemed to young to drink but things were different now that her parents were gone. Only 13 years old and already stepping up to assume the throne that she hadn’t expected or even wanted to take until she was much much older. The mishap with the glass was mostly in part due to the bad news that her messenger had brought her. “Civil unrest m’lady, they think you’re too young and that someone else should take the throne in your place, perhaps a cousin or someone else more fit to rule” she sighed and sunk into the chair that her father, before his passing, had so frequently sat in. Her small fingers delicately stroking the upholstered arm as she sat in thought. She knew that if the throne was abdicated to her cousin the kingdom would be thrown into chaos. He was a violent sort, bent on trying to get Pluviae Aetheres to go to war for the smallest of reasons. No, she wouldn’t hear of it.

Being new to the alliance she needed allies within it, nations to support and back her rule, just as much as she needed supporters in her own country should she prevent the unrest that was spreading its shadowy fingers like a plague from growing into a full blown war to unseat her from the throne which had been rightfully hers.

Suddenly the man standing at her side leaned over and whispered in her ear “a visitor, your majesty, a delegate from @The Constitutional Monarchy of Arcadisia”
“Send him in” she said out loud waving her hand to the guards at the entrance to pull the heavy wooden doors out of the way so her guests may enter. She recognized the importance of this visit. She would need to secure an alliance quickly with this nation if she were to hope to keep her throne but would also need to be wary of what they demanded in return or what they wanted from her and her country in general. She straightened her back and pulled at her dress a little to smooth out the wrinkles, sitting straight up and trying her best to look older than she actually was. This would be interesting for sure.

Pluviae aetheres wrote:The glass shattered against the wall and the sweet nectar that had been encapsulated within trickled down onto the floor. Normally, Lexi would’ve been deemed to young to drink but things were different now that her parents were gone. Only 13 years old and already stepping up to assume the throne that she hadn’t expected or even wanted to take until she was much much older. The mishap with the glass was mostly in part due to the bad news that her messenger had brought her. “Civil unrest m’lady, they think you’re too young and that someone else should take the throne in your place, perhaps a cousin or someone else more fit to rule” she sighed and sunk into the chair that her father, before his passing, had so frequently sat in. Her small fingers delicately stroking the upholstered arm as she sat in thought. She knew that if the throne was abdicated to her cousin the kingdom would be thrown into chaos. He was a violent sort, bent on trying to get Pluviae Aetheres to go to war for the smallest of reasons. No, she wouldn’t hear of it.

Being new to the alliance she needed allies within it, nations to support and back her rule, just as much as she needed supporters in her own country should she prevent the unrest that was spreading its shadowy fingers like a plague from growing into a full blown war to unseat her from the throne which had been rightfully hers.

Suddenly the man standing at her side leaned over and whispered in her ear “a visitor, your majesty, a delegate from @The Constitutional Monarchy of Arcadisia”
“Send him in” she said out loud waving her hand to the guards at the entrance to pull the heavy wooden doors out of the way so her guests may enter. She recognized the importance of this visit. She would need to secure an alliance quickly with this nation if she were to hope to keep her throne but would also need to be wary of what they demanded in return or what they wanted from her and her country in general. She straightened her back and pulled at her dress a little to smooth out the wrinkles, sitting straight up and trying her best to look older than she actually was. This would be interesting for sure.

The young delegate walked into the Royal halls of the Kingdom of the Pluviae Aetheres. Finally, after a horrific war, hope loomed over the horizon. This might be Arcadisia's last chance. Several nations were eyeing the weakened Arcadisia, attempting to steal territories left and right. And possibly, colonize the entire nation...

The delegate quickly shook that last thought out of his head. That would never happen, right? It mattered not. If this alliance would work, Arcadisia would no longer face those problems. Well, unless Pluviae Aetheres turned on them...but that would never happen, right?

The delegate was a popular war hero, the infamous ace fighter pilot Captain Henry Pierce. A prince only distantly related to the current Emperor, separated by a couple generations, and a relatively inexperienced delegate, he was flanked by his advisor, who would guide him. He was an older, wiser man - if not of relatively low rank. But a brilliant man, tutored by the late Chancellor Ashbridge himself. Given the chaos in Arcadisia these days, it was hard to find a living delegate that hadn't resorted to consorting with the enemy and aiding them in the stealing of Arcadisian land. But the Arcadisian Emperor trusted Pierce. Pierce was a war hero, and very, very loyal.

Pierce and his advisor bowed to the Queen. This...was possibly Arcadisia's last chance. If Arcadisia could have even just one nation backing them, well...perhaps it would allow them to last just long enough get them back on their feet.

"Your Majesty, it is I. Prince Pierce of Arcadisia, and the delegate to Arcadisia." Crud! He had forgotten some of the etiquette. The advisor shot him a dirty look as Pierce racked his brain as he tried to remember what he was supposed to do next anyways. Mr. Aidan O'Sullivan internally rolled his eyes. Exactly whose idea was it to send such an inexperienced delegate anyways? This was a diplomatic mission, not a war hero show-off contest!

The Arcadisian "Emperor", or whatever the Emperor would technically be now stood by a telegram, awaiting a response. Many of Arcadisia's richest cities were now occupied territories, with several allied nations splitting the capital and stationing their troops in whatever places they willed. However, one by one, they were starting to leave, except for three nations*, which were seemingly eyeing supremacy over the entire nation. This was no coincidence - Arcadisia had been a subject of foreign invasions and such for millennia. However, now they were tied back and more helpless than ever. The telegram response arrived. Their old allies during the war, a war they had not chosen to join. Allies in the loosest sense of the word - for while they had provided much economic support in the years building up to the war, provided much military material, and helped with military construction and tactics, they were not bound by treaty, nor had they become allies in this war of their free will. Arcadisia had been forced to join this war, upon the invasion of an island nearby, and joined the League out of a desperation to survive. It seems, they had chosen the wrong choice, mused the emperor. Then again, the "big three" had joined the allies as soon as the outbreak of the Great War in the west, so it wasn't like Arcadisia really had a choice. Currently, the Emperor had dispatched Captain Pierce, a war hero and ace pilot with over 57 kills to delegate a potential alliance with Pluviae Aetheres. A nation in turmoil, yes, but a potentially valuable ally. Practically all of the ministers were either dead, deposed, or helping the former Alliance nations steal large swathes of the capital city. Pierce was the emperor's close friend.

Arcadisia, towards the end of the 19th century, was an exceedingly troubled nation. It was a crumbling nation, a shadow of it's former self. Chancellor Cason had finally punched up the curve but...at the end of the day, he was assassinated by unknown agents. This made it a breeding grounds for an invasion to the south, as invading nations ravaged the country. Initially criticized by the international community, this critique had rapidly dissapaited when the eastern Alliance nations well...joined the Alliance. Still, Arcadisia had it's coal and copper mines to the north, which accounted to around 50% of the Arcadisian economy, a valuable bargaining chip in the game of diplomacy. And a valuable target for would be invaders or colonizers...

The telegram from the nations of the former League began to roll in. He gulped, and began to read them.

*(Probably NPC nations, I honestly don't know what they're like fully)

Detailed published records of troop movements - August 21st to August 24th
21st August - 0215
ISF (Iserkian Special Forces) crossed the border into Lerizian controlled territory in Acarsdia on Air Force Planes in a covert operation. Broke across the border a few hours later

22nd August - 1200 to 1500
IAF (Iserkian Armed Forces) placed a display of soldiers and the latest tech in the annual Celebration day March. 4,000 soldiers and 451 Air Force Pilots took part in the parade. The Imperial Navy also displayed it's brand new Aircraft Carrier. The ASV Fireblade

23rd August - 0000
Imperial Navy Senior Commander Fleet Admiral James S Larsen ordered and headed an attack on a pirate held base just of the coast of Dacton City. 4,000,000,000 worth of ammunition, ships, guns, cars, drugs and one Aircraft were also seized. 400 pirates were arrested and 3 civilian hostages were found alive and well

23rd August - 1300
Royal Guardsmen were put on high alert as a group of pirates escaped captivity

24th August - 1435
Royal Guardsmen found the group of pirates who escaped yesterday and the group were handed into authorities

Post self-deleted by Iserk.

Post by Cat038 suppressed by Mahina.

[color=Blue]Welcome[/color] to the [color=Orange]United[/color] [color=Blue]Alliance[/color]!✨

Welcome to the United Alliance, a nation roleplaying region. Carve out an empire for yourself with cunning diplomacy, intrigue, and military prowess in this 1920s alternate world rp, or simply worldbuild a peaceful nationstate. In the United Alliance the choice is up to you.

[hr]Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Contact Mahina| Want your nation placed on the regional map? Contact The iron coast on Discord with your map claim.

[hr]Link to- Map of the United Alliance Link to- https://discord.gg/DPENe8U United Alliance Discord

[hr]Current Date: 1920

Mahina

Exoa wrote:

The man answered the door gingerly, as though he was trying to avoid as much noise as possible. He was a quite modestly dressed butler, a steam-rolled tweed suit adorned him. He looked down at the men at the door to his king's residence.

"The MSF? I had heard word that it was disbanded as the war came to a close?", He responded with a stroke of his goatee. "However, if you wish. Follow me, and please refrain from touching anything", he flatly stated as he opened the door completely. With a flick of his hand he motioned for them follow him to the back of the estate, to a large porch area. On the brick and cement porch sat many exquisitely crafted wooden rocking chairs, along with beside the porch an enclosed greenhouse. Though beyond the porch itself laid out a vast yard, with a pond being overshadowed by a large willow tree. Behind the yard a massive hill arose overshadowing the property, with a trail snaking it's way to the top. On the trail a tall man was wandering down the path, from a distance it looked like he was carrying a long stick. "There is the majesty, just on his daily hunting extravaganza. Now just wait here and he'll be with you in a few moments.", and with that the butler turned around and entered back into the house. After a few moments Erwin stepped onto the porch.

"Ahhh, visitors. It has been a while since I've had anyone come out this way", he smirked behind his handlebar mustache. He cleaned off his hands by a water spout nearby and rested his bolt-action rifle on the greenhouse wall. "So what brings the supposedly disbanded MSF to me?", Erwin crosses his arms as he looks at the man in front of him.

"Ah, well," Andreas started, a part of him believing he had himself abandoned his values by labelling himself as 'the MSF', which, besides being the center of Miklozia's intelligence community, also served as Miklozia's secret police, working to destroy dissent during the war. "They did, I'm just... uh, doing their work for them."

A silence descended over the men for a brief moment, before Andreas spoke once again.

"You may remember me, your majesty. I was with his majesty, King Mikhael during the Miklozian state visit... the month before the war began." Referring to this must have brought up some bad memories for Erwin. It was the state visit where he issued his infamous 'blank cheque' to Miklozian Army Chief of Staff Viliam Metz and Eduard Sauber relating to the August Crisis involving a series of foreign incidents between Miklozia and Hundsland. The issuing of Erwin's 'blank cheque' was seen by many as the beginning of the War.

"Uh, I'm here today because on May 11th, 1919, his majesty sent you a message via horseback to Veksen for your eyes only regarding the succession to the Miklozian throne. What did that message say?"

The Young Victorious Republic

Lerizia had only achieved its independence 19 years ago in 1901 after a long hard fought battle for independence. Yet despite the nation still being in its infancy its place as a victor of the Great War has only solidified growing patriotism towards the new state and the Republican Government. With the troops beginning to return home and many boulevards hosting grand parades many are hopeful that the nation’s future will continue to be prosperous and proud.

Vetumna: Capital of the Zamanthi State

Crowds gathered at the docks cheering the arriving ship filled with soldiers returning from the Great War, the dock was lined with the national flag and people throwing flower petals into the air painting the harbour in bright colours.

They looked out onto the people from the ship as it was pulled into harbour, many waving to the people below, as the bridge came out the captain of the platoon called them to the centre of the deck. Captain Lars Frentinate of the 2nd Devision’s 3rd Company Gold, was luckily one of the companies stationed on a calmer part of the front and as such saw fewer casualties. Yet still Frentinate carried a reputation of a glory hunter, only set on achieving victors in his name. This mentality saw him demoted after the Battle of Glenretch which cost him his rank of Lieutenant Colonel and put him where he was now. He had done little to gain the respect of his troops as many saw him as an armchair general. “Troops, I've been informed by the CO’s that you have orders.” Sighs, looks of hatred filled the room and curses could be heard “Is that b*****d making us go to the C.O.Z (Canal Occupation Zone)” someone could be heard in the back being sure not to be heard in front. The Captain put a smirk on “Those who want to go straight home report to the train station, by 15 hundred hours, the government will be paying for all tickets, merely provide your passport and military ID to the desk and the state will pick up the tab. Those who wish to stay, are going to help ‘liberate’ Curmen Street (a street known for the high concentration of pubs) starting at 16 hundred hours”. The room quickly filled with cheers, it was the first they had ever seen Fretinate tease the troops and act so casual and most looked forward to having a drink not to mention spend time with people they will most likely not see again. However even with the good gesture much like many of the returning soldiers they could not wait to escape the tyranny of being under the command of an officer.

Many knew the horrors of war, yet none could fathom the sights seen at the Battle of Koen or the Battle of Glenretch, yet still the young boys of the nation signed on in droves looking to continue the great legacy of the fathers and grandfathers alike. Fueled by Republican propaganda and pride they were obscured from the real horrors of war.

As the next generation returns they will most likely tell their sons of their efforts, and their sons will fight as their forefathers did.

"Wrecked"
June 9th, 1920
20 miles northeast of the Sea of Arcadia (Arcadisia)

The war had been lost. Bill Zetem knew this better than anyone, and that was fresh on his mind as his raft drifted across the brine below. The water was a salty blue, a seemingly infinite pool. He guided it along with a small wooden oar. He was an old man, he shouldn't have to do this. But did he really have a choice? No, of course not. Land couldn't be that far, his mind assured himself. The ocean was beginning to stir. He looked up, dark clouds were beginning to form in the way ahead. He slowly began to drift his oar in another direction. Land couldn't be too far. His stomach growled in hunger, but he took no action. There was no food left- Bill hadn't grabbed any when the Endesco sunk. Instead, he just grabbed onto his black suitcase and found the nearest life raft.

That black suitcase stared at him from the front of the raft, judging Bill with immense scrutiny and hate. Oh how he'd like to just throw it overboard. But he knew he wouldn't survive a moment without it. It was more precious than food, water, sleep, faith, anything. It was Bill's future. And it was protected by a simple lock on its top.

The past would prove unimportant. Bill had made tremendous effort to wipe his own history and remove any possible links. Even his wife had to be silenced. But it was all for the greater good. All for the future.

In his mind he recalled his escape. Boarding the Endesco after securing the briefcase and moving quickly west, and then northwest. All the while being tailed by Alliance ships. Bill gazed up at the clouds in the distance again. They were approaching faster than he had expected. He would soon be enveloped by the storm. His better judgment knew there was no way to stop it, so instead he leaned over and grabbed the briefcase.

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

The storm was relentless in its violence and wildness. An unstoppable force that almost ripped his raft in half. He was pummeled by a series of tidal waves before he fell into unconsciousness.

The image of that storm filled his thoughts as he shook himself awake. His leg was broken, and his hunger was becoming painful. He got up and moved slowly, his eyes darting around a beach. He suddenly stopped, realizing something.

"Where is it?"

His pace suddenly became fast and frantic. He had realized his briefcase, his future was gone. He moved quickly, his disillusioned mind trying its best to keep his broken senses focused. He needed it, perhaps more than he needed his own health.

Suddenly, a black shimmer from beneath a pile of sand, which Bill caught from the corner of his eye. He stumbled toward it, before falling on his own weight. He began digging into the sand, and when he knew the briefcase was fully exposed, he collapsed upon it.

Miklozia wrote:"Wrecked"
June 9th, 1920
20 miles northeast of the Sea of Arcadia (Arcadisia)

The war had been lost. Bill Zetem knew this better than anyone, and that was fresh on his mind as his raft drifted across the brine below. The water was a salty blue, a seemingly infinite pool. He guided it along with a small wooden oar. He was an old man, he shouldn't have to do this. But did he really have a choice? No, of course not. Land couldn't be that far, his mind assured himself. The ocean was beginning to stir. He looked up, dark clouds were beginning to form in the way ahead. He slowly began to drift his oar in another direction. Land couldn't be too far. His stomach growled in hunger, but he took no action. There was no food left- Bill hadn't grabbed any when the Endesco sunk. Instead, he just grabbed onto his black suitcase and found the nearest life raft.

That black suitcase stared at him from the front of the raft, judging Bill with immense scrutiny and hate. Oh how he'd like to just throw it overboard. But he knew he wouldn't survive a moment without it. It was more precious than food, water, sleep, faith, anything. It was Bill's future. And it was protected by a simple lock on its top.

The past would prove unimportant. Bill had made tremendous effort to wipe his own history and remove any possible links. Even his wife had to be silenced. But it was all for the greater good. All for the future.

In his mind he recalled his escape. Boarding the Endesco after securing the briefcase and moving quickly west, and then northwest. All the while being tailed by Alliance ships. Bill gazed up at the clouds in the distance again. They were approaching faster than he had expected. He would soon be enveloped by the storm. His better judgment knew there was no way to stop it, so instead he leaned over and grabbed the briefcase.

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

The storm was relentless in its violence and wildness. An unstoppable force that almost ripped his raft in half. He was pummeled by a series of tidal waves before he fell into unconsciousness.

The image of that storm filled his thoughts as he shook himself awake. His leg was broken, and his hunger was becoming painful. He got up and moved slowly, his eyes darting around a beach. He suddenly stopped, realizing something.

"Where is it?"

His pace suddenly became fast and frantic. He had realized his briefcase, his future was gone. He moved quickly, his disillusioned mind trying its best to keep his broken senses focused. He needed it, perhaps more than he needed his own health.

Suddenly, a black shimmer from beneath a pile of sand, which Bill caught from the corner of his eye. He stumbled toward it, before falling on his own weight. He began digging into the sand, and when he knew the briefcase was fully exposed, he collapsed upon it.

June 10th, 1920
Jumdo island, Arcadisian Empire

Ever since the end of the war, Mrs. Janette Shin's village no longer had any men. Er, what was left of the village in fact. Standing directly in the invasion path of the invading Alliance Army wasn't really the most fun ordeal. The last time they had seen a man over the age of 18 but under 60 was a year ago, when the last of the adult men in the village had been dragged off by the Arcadisian Navy as they formed a desperate last stand in defending the mainland. Life went on, but at night, many of the women and children lay in bed, thinking of their fathers and husbands who had most likely perished at sea. Or barring that, had all been slaughtered in some crazy land battle following the abandonment of the Navy. The village was an old, traditional, fishing village. The most common modern items on in the village were some old steam powered fishing trawler. The villagers considered themselves lucky that the last trawler hadn't been taken away from them by the Arcadisian Navy to be converted into a torpedo boat, because that was the last one they had. And of course, there was the hiding period in which they had to hide from the advancing Elodian Imperial Army, less they get killed by their annihilation tactics. The people were returning though, after the horrors of the war and the horrors of the military occupation in which the Alliance soldiers, mostly Elodians, ran amok destroying and stealing as they pleased. Mrs. Shin wondered how Mr. Shin was doing, if he was even alive at all. Given the state of the nation, even if he were alive, it would be hard to find him. She sighed and along with a few others, hauled the rusted trawler onto the beach using some of the cows they had found from a nearby town. All of it's inhabitants had been murdered, their livestock surprisingly untarnished and free for taking. And that's when Mrs. Shin noticed an odd figure upon the beach.

They approached him. It was an old man lying upon a briefcase. Mrs. Shin waved over her 8 year old son, and told him to take the man back to the village housing. As the children dragged him back inland, she noticed he had been lying on something. A suitcase. She's seen her husband carry one of these back in the day, not for any particular reason, but to look "within modern time" as he said it. Feeling a bit fashionable herself, she took the suitcase and loaded it upon her trawler. She'd give it back to him in the evening. But for now, it was hers. The suitcase was locked, and she found herself unable to open it. Ah well. The fishing crew prepared fishing nets to another day's good catch. A few Alliance naval vessels ahead were scouring the region, but she paid no heed to them. Typical patrol, she figured. They often roamed these regions and bullied the local fishers, but it was really, nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least, that's what she figured.

Arcadisian Military equipment, pre-war.

Naval forces:

5 Kohan class pre-dreadnought battleship (basically imagine a Deutschland class pre-dread battleship and you're not too far off from the mark. The only difference is that this ship has 6 11 inch guns instead of 4 12 inch guns. Also outfitted with a oil powered steam engine instead of the VTE engine of a typical pre-dread so it's pretty fast.) † †

1 Ahan class semi-dreadnought battleship †

1 Boyeon class dreadnought battleship (Literally just a Konig class battleship, 13 inch guns, coal fired engines)

1 Muro class battlecruiser

1 Chungmu class battlecruiser (Imagine a Derfflinger class battlecruiser but with the pagoda mast of the Kongo class, oil powered engine)

2 Sara class armored cruiser (Probably a Rurik class armored cruiser, also oil powered) †

3 Wangmu class light cruisers † (C-class cruiser)

3 Park class light cruisers † (Coln class)

6 Gorhak class protected cruisers † † † (Zenta class cruiser)

6 Vulkor class protected cruisers † † † † (Probably some kind of completely new cruiser variant never seen in real life before)

2 Wando class corvettes †

1 Wiree class monitor †

1 Corvus class gunship †

18 torpedo boats † † † † † † † † †

5 U-boats † † † †

.

Army weapons:

Primary rifle: Gewehr 98, Mosin-Nagant

Submachine gun: Full auto C96, MP-18

Machine gun: MG08, MG08/15

Pistol: C96, C96 full auto, M1911, Luger P08, Nagant 1895, Steyr 1912, Webly revolver, S&W M1917, Webley–Fosbery Automatic Revolver

Reserve weaponry: Gewehr 88, Berdan rifle

Melee: Sword, bayonet

Grenades: Stielhandgranate (concussion grenade), Model 1914 grenade (concussion grenade), Mk 1 grenade (frag grenade), Mk2 grenade (frag grenade)

Infantry support cannon: 3.7 cm Infanteriegeschütz M.15,

Field guns: Krupp 7.5 cm Model 1903, 7.7 cm FK 96 n.A., 10 cm K 14

Howitzers: 8 cm Kanone C/80, 10.5 cm leFH 16, 15 cm sFH 02 (only 15 in service)

Mortars: 7.58 cm Minenwerfer, 9 cm Minenwerfer M 14, 12 cm Minenwerfer M 15

.

Armored forces:

Leichttraktor (light tank, primary tank of Arcadisia, roughly 80)

A7V tanks (heavy tank, roughly 40)

Renault FT (light tank, roughly 20, given by Alliance following the war)

Mark 4 tanks (3, given by the Alliance following the war to police the region)

.

Air Force:

Fighters: Fokker Eindecker, Albatross DII, Albatross DIII, Albatross DV, Fokker DR1, Fokker DVI, Fokker DVII

Bombers: Friedrichshafen G.III, Gothat IV, Hansa Brandenburg GI, Gotha V, Zeppelin-Staaken R.VI

1 Zeppelin †

.

Uniforms:

Helmets/hats: Stahlhelm (both M1916 and Berndorfer variants - standard infantry), Pickelhaube (tropical variant (1), - for cavalry units and air force personnel), Ski cap (Austro Hungarian model (2) - standard infantry), peaked caps (for officers), and "beonggeoji" (3) for naval officers.

Uniform itself: So for the base uniform, just imagine SS uniforms but in different color, because that looks evil. Probably a "policeman blue" color, a dark blue-ish grey. Belt goes across the stomach, and straps go across the shoulders. (4) The red piping is basically just the German one from WW1. (4 again) There are two breast pockets and two side pockets near the bottom of the tunic. 5 buttons on the tunic itself. Pants are pretty standard, and soldiers wrap "puttees" around their shins. Boots are boots. The collar is a dark green and has little squares on the front that indicate what division they're from. Epaulettes depend on how high ranking you are. Standard infantry and NCOs only have green shoulder boards with nothing else on them. An officer can attack removable epaulets onto the shoulder boards. High ranking officers get fancier epaulets.

Armor: Curiass, mostly only used by pilots, cavalry, and armored forces. Sometimes used by snipers and stationary machine gunners. Used by a certain ace pilot, out of all people. (5)

Winter wear: A greatcoat, worn over the standard uniform. (6)

Visualization friendly links:

(1) https://paradeantiques.co.uk/militaria/headgear/german-axis/c1900-imperial-german-east-asia-engineers-tropical-pickelhaube
Made out of bronze, because why not? Later models were made out of leather or paper because it was hard to justify such a luxury in wartime. Later made out of steel.

(2) https://www.pinterest.com/pin/495747871462585237/
Has absolutely nothing to do with those beanies you see skiers wearing. I swear, this fancy looking hat is ACTUALLY called a ski cap. So imagine this but slightly flatter on top.

(3) https://pixlr.com/stock/details/1001385123-beonggeoji/
I thought that despite being an east asian hat, it would mesh very well with European style clothing

(4) http://www.achtung-blitzkrieg.com/ww1-german-enlisted-man-uniform-feldmutz-and-webbing-c2x20061332
So for the tunic and it's various apendages, imagine that but dark blue. Also less buttons. And some more pockets. Oh, and the pants look like that too. Ignore the hat this guy's wearing. Note the red piping on the sleeves and centerline.

(5) https://www.medievaldepot.com/products/legends-in-steel-medieval-cuirass-body-armor-1
Can be worn underneath the webbing and harnesses soldiers wear into battle.

(6) https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d3/75/7b/d3757bad790899574956c19290cfcd7a.jpg
Imagine this, but a but more billowy. Ignore the tuxedo thingy and the red tie.

Iserk and Calarim

Post self-deleted by Iserk.

Navy
Dreadnought battleships 50
Heavy Dreadnought battleships 50
Cruisers 25
Light Cruisers 10
Heavy Cruisers 15
Offshore patrol craft 50
Inshore patrol craft 40
Submarines 40
Aircraft Carriers 20
Medical Ships and Auxillary craft - 40
Fast Gunboats - 25 (defensive)
450 Aircraft

Post self-deleted by Iserk.

June 11th 1920
São Carcal, Caloy
President Epitácio Barros sat on the porch of the Presidential Palace in São Carcal and stared out at Caloy’s coastline. His thoughts of relative peace and calmness soon shifted into doubt and grief as he thought of the devastation and dread that had occurred on the otherside of the sea. Epitácio and his predecessor had managed to keep Caloy out of the war thanks to it’s relative unimportance in the world. However the Republic’s economy still felt the effects of the war as Caloy was unable to trade with some of it’s partners. The president’s thoughts were interrupted as a secretary approached.
“Senhor Presidente (Mister President), Marshall Juárez, Colonel Lima and Secretary Olivera are waiting in your office.”
The President thought for a moment, and stood to his feet “let’s not keep the modern Caloy waiting.”

The president walked into his office and found the colonel and secretary sitting In cushioned chairs. Meanwhile the Marshall was observing the framed khaki uniform and trifolded Calian flag hanging on one of the walls. As Epitácio entered the room the two men stood from their chairs while the Marshall turned to face him rendering a salute. “Good morning Senhor Presidente” they all greeted,
“”Morning gentelmen should we get started?” The three officials took their seats while the president sat in his cushioned chair behind his desk. “Lets start with you Coronel (Colonel), what does the Military Police have to report?”
The colonel groaned “Well, crime has a rise in Halena. As a result i have pulled additional units from our more peaceful rural regions into the city.”
“Alright, if you need additional resources i’ll allow the regular army to expedite your officers if needed. If that isn’t implausible Marechal (Marshal).”
The Marshal gave a slight grin “not implausible at all sir, i’ll instruct the local garrison commander to meet with police officials this week.” The Marshal responded.
The president then picked up a file from his desk, “Have all of our citizens that volunteered in the war returned to Caloy Marechal?”
“Enough of them Senhor, i’ve sent invitations to them to join our armed forces I figured many of them are likely tired from the fighting.”

While the Republic itself remained neutral some of it’s citizens had chosen to volunteer in the armed forces of both sides in the war.

The president let out a sigh, “ Give them a little longer, but it is imperative that we learn of their experiences. Grant them officer commissions and payment for their assistance.”
“I’ll get right on that, our first priority is to gather anyone who served with aircraft and air tactics for our forces.”
“Alright good, our first few aircraft should be available soon for training Calian pilots.”

As the conversation lulled Secretary Olivera interjected “Our Rail and Road initiative has hit another milestone as Workers in the Salion state have completed their part of the national railroad. They are currently working to push the road further north.”
The mood in the room greatly lighted “Great to hear secretary.” The president responded. “Say, how goes the new industrial sector in Malayus?” He inquired.
The secretary grinned “ Near completion sir, four new factories should be completed with one being able to manufacture automobiles.”

At that the meeting was dismissed as the president was more then pleased by the reports. As it sounded the Republic was on a steady pace to modernization as factories railroads and new military theory became available. However the president couldn’t help but think if all of this innovation would be enough to protect the Republic from the wars to come.

June 15, 1920

Northeast Arcadisia, Ordene Harbor

Humiliation. That was the fate of the Arcadisian Navy, the great navy which had held the line for so long. Their brilliant Admiral Jun dead. And after the war, the Alliance had forced their ships, their fleet into the only intact harbor Arcadisia had. The already small navy was crammed into an even smaller harbor, one that barely fit the navy at all. It was out of simple necessity - as mentioned, this was Arcadisia's only intact harbor. But to the Alliance, it was a different matter. It was a means of surveillance. To ensure that the fearsome Arcadisian navy did not rebel. Did not mutiny. Did not fight. Ever.

4 battleships, only one of which was a dreadnought class. The other 3 resembled "heavy cruisers" (a brand new and experimental class of warship it seems) more, outfitted with fast engines and smaller guns to fight within the narrow riverlines of Arcadisia. Two battlecruisers, one armored cruiser. Four light cruisers and 5 protected cruisers. Stationed off to the outer sector of the harbor were 9 torpedo boats, 1 corvette, and 1 U-boat. Currently, the armored cruiser, was away on a diplomatic mission to Pluviae Aetheres, while a single Kohan class pre-dread, two torpedo boats, and the Chungmu class battlecruiser were away on a patrol alongside some Alliance vessels on the western coastline of the nation. Captain Parl knew the navy like the back of his hand. He strolled along the railings of the battlecruiser. Men ran back and forth, emptying out the coal bunkers. A Boyeon class battleship appeared on the horizon, followed by a protected cruiser, slowly but surely approaching the harbor.

Captain Parl calculated. So roughly right now, there were 2 pre dreadnought battleships, 1 battlecruiser, 4 light cruisers, 4 protected cruisers, one corvette, and 1 submarine within the confines of the harbor, plus 1 battleship and 1 protected cruiser to enter harbor soon. One Alliance oil tanker, three Alliance coal haulers, another Alliance military ferry, and eight Arcadisian merchant cargo vessels filled with precious metals that might perhaps win back international favor. 20 odd fisher trawleys, sloops, and junks fished for...well, fish nearby, outside of the harbor.

Two national ocean liners, currently empty of passengers but filled to the brim with workers, moving out sectors and equipment. The two ocean liners, originally developed as luxury liners designed to transport rich passengers in a most speedy and spectacular fashion possible were used as troop transports during the war. Several months afterwards, they were back to luxury liners.

Arcadisia, being a nation rich in coal, had tons of high quality fuels, and the ocean liners were being filled up, coal dust lining the air. If these two ships could go back to serving, it would go a long way in restoring the currently empty coffers of Arcadisia, as these two ships were world renown for their reliability, speed, and luxury. And perhaps, Arcadisia would rebuild. Perhaps. Or maybe the companies would grow fat under the weight of their money and start bossing around the government. These concerns would soon disappear with the arrival of dozens of dark spots on the horizon.

Miklozia, Calarim, and Caloy

Arcadisia wrote: June 15, 1920

Northeast Arcadisia, Ordene Harbor

Humiliation. That was the fate of the Arcadisian Navy, the great navy which had held the line for so long. Their brilliant Admiral Jun dead. And after the war, the Alliance had forced their ships, their fleet into the only intact harbor Arcadisia had. The already small navy was crammed into an even smaller harbor, one that barely fit the navy at all. It was out of simple necessity - as mentioned, this was Arcadisia's only intact harbor. But to the Alliance, it was a different matter. It was a means of surveillance. To ensure that the fearsome Arcadisian navy did not rebel. Did not mutiny. Did not fight. Ever.

4 battleships, only one of which was a dreadnought class. The other 3 resembled "heavy cruisers" more, outfitted with fast engines and smaller guns to fight within the narrow riverlines of Arcadisia. Two battlecruisers, one armored cruiser. Four light cruisers and 5 protected cruisers. Stationed off to the outer sector of the harbor were 9 torpedo boats, 1 corvette, and 1 U-boat. Currently, the armored cruiser, was away on a diplomatic mission to Pluviae Aetheres, while a single Kohan class pre-dread, two torpedo boats, and the Chungmu class battlecruiser were away on a patrol alongside some Alliance vessels on the western coastline of the nation. Captain Parl knew the navy like the back of his hand. He strolled along the railings of the battlecruiser. Men ran back and forth, emptying out the coal bunkers. A Boyeon class battleship appeared on the horizon, followed by a protected cruiser, slowly but surely approaching the harbor.

Captain Parl calculated. So roughly right now, there were 2 pre dreadnought battleships, 1 battlecruiser, 4 light cruisers, 4 protected cruisers, one corvette, and 1 submarine within the confines of the harbor, plus 1 battleship and 1 protected cruiser to enter harbor soon. One Alliance oil tanker, three Alliance coal haulers, another Alliance military ferry, and eight Arcadisian merchant cargo vessels filled with precious metals that might perhaps win back international favor. 20 odd fisher trawleys, sloops, and junks fished for...well, fish nearby, outside of the harbor.

Two national ocean liners, currently empty of passengers but filled to the brim with workers, moving out sectors and equipment. The two ocean liners, originally developed as luxury liners designed to transport rich passengers in a most speedy and spectacular fashion possible were used as troop transports during the war. Several months afterwards, they were back to luxury liners.

Arcadisia, being a nation rich in coal, had tons of high quality fuels, and the ocean liners were being filled up, coal dust lining the air. If these two ships could go back to serving, it would go a long way in restoring the currently empty coffers of Arcadisia, as these two ships were world renown for their reliability, speed, and luxury. And perhaps, Arcadisia would rebuild. Perhaps. Or maybe the companies would grow fat under the weight of their money and start bossing around the government. These concerns would soon disappear with the arrival of dozens of dark spots on the horizon.

Firepower

They had set out 1 day prior, a medium size fleet of Calarim. Their objective was of the utmost secrecy, only the Admiral knew what they were going to do. They moved swiftly, for they needed to strike quickly. Ordene was too good of a target to lose, anyways.

The fleet, consisting of 1 Seth Class Battleship, 4 Carriers, and 3 Ramo Class Light Cruisers has anchored out of sight and detection range. They did final preparations, and the planes went on there way. They had 5 minutes until they would arrive. 5 minutes until victory.

They had visual on the fleet, 30 ships all in one place. They continued their arrow formation to the base, their ordnance should be enough to blow their ships sky high. They were fast approaching now, the 60 aircraft knew their targets, and those targets will be ash when the day is through.

10 Fighters veered off from the formation, heading for the Airfield, 20 planes sat there ripe for the taking. The remaining 50 bombers, aiming for the large cluster of ships.

The bombers hit the Pre-Dreadnoughts first, 5 bombers launched torpedoes at the 2 Pre-Dreadnoughts, landing 3 hits on the 1st one and 2 on the other one. They began to list and flood quickly. 2 Bombers released torpedoes against their Battlecruiser, 1 hits and the other misses. The battle cruiser also begins to list lightly. 10 bombers went after their light cruisers, The torpedoes heading for the 1st one missed, the others got direct hits and then.... Kaboom. A light cruiser detonates, a large explosion rocking the nearby ships. 10 more went for their Protected Cruisers, but half of the torpedoes missed and hit nearby Alliance Coal Haulers 3 torpedoes slammed into 2 haulers. 2 Torpedoes slammed a Alliance Oil Tanker, and oil leaked into the waters. 2 more torpedoes into the last coal hauler. 3 torpedoes rock a Alliance military ferry. 5 torpedoes slam into the 2 luxury liners. 11 torpedoes rock the remaining 8 ships, Arcadisian merchant cargo vessels.

The Fighters that broke off now begin strafing the grounded planes, the planes destroyed before they could scramble into the air. They turn about to link up with the bombers, now returning to the Carriers.

Damage report: 2 Pre-Dreadnoughts sunk, Battlecruiser Out of Commision, 3 Light cruisers sunk 1 Damaged, 2 Protected cruises sunk, 3 Coal Haulers sunk, Military Ferry sunk, 2 Luxury liners sunk, 8 Merchant Cargo Vessels sunk, 20 Planes destroyed.

Miklozia, Arcadisia, and Caloy

Calarim wrote:Firepower

They had set out 1 day prior, a medium size fleet of Calarim. Their objective was of the utmost secrecy, only the Admiral knew what they were going to do. They moved swiftly, for they needed to strike quickly. Ordene was too good of a target to lose, anyways.

The fleet, consisting of 1 Seth Class Battleship, 4 Carriers, and 3 Ramo Class Light Cruisers has anchored out of sight and detection range. They did final preparations, and the planes went on there way. They had 5 minutes until they would arrive. 5 minutes until victory.

They had visual on the fleet, 30 ships all in one place. They continued their arrow formation to the base, their ordnance should be enough to blow their ships sky high. They were fast approaching now, the 60 aircraft knew their targets, and those targets will be ash when the day is through.

10 Fighters veered off from the formation, heading for the Airfield, 20 planes sat there ripe for the taking. The remaining 50 bombers, aiming for the large cluster of ships.

The bombers hit the Pre-Dreadnoughts first, 5 bombers launched torpedoes at the 2 Pre-Dreadnoughts, landing 3 hits on the 1st one and 2 on the other one. They began to list and flood quickly. 2 Bombers released torpedoes against their Battlecruiser, 1 hits and the other misses. The battle cruiser also begins to list lightly. 10 bombers went after their light cruisers, The torpedoes heading for the 1st one missed, the others got direct hits and then.... Kaboom. A light cruiser detonates, a large explosion rocking the nearby ships. 10 more went for their Protected Cruisers, but half of the torpedoes missed and hit nearby Alliance Coal Haulers 3 torpedoes slammed into 2 haulers. 2 Torpedoes slammed a Alliance Oil Tanker, and oil leaked into the waters. 2 more torpedoes into the last coal hauler. 3 torpedoes rock a Alliance military ferry. 5 torpedoes slam into the 2 luxury liners. 11 torpedoes rock the remaining 8 ships, Arcadisian merchant cargo vessels.

The Fighters that broke off now begin strafing the grounded planes, the planes destroyed before they could scramble into the air. They turn about to link up with the bombers, now returning to the Carriers.

Damage report: 2 Pre-Dreadnoughts sunk, Battlecruiser Out of Commision, 3 Light cruisers sunk 1 Damaged, 2 Protected cruises sunk, 3 Coal Haulers sunk, Military Ferry sunk, 2 Luxury liners sunk, 8 Merchant Cargo Vessels sunk, 20 Planes destroyed.

Absolute chaos. No one had even seen it coming, but before anyone knew what was going on, two battleships had been sunk and were rapidly sinking into the harbor below, dragging thousands of souls along with them. Burning men leapt from their ships, the fire searing their flesh before hitting the water. The men on the coal haulers that leapt were able to hit the water safely. Those from the oil tanker continued to burn even underwater. Most were unable to get out of their ships in the first place though, the oil, coal dust, and other flammable particles throughout the air causing firestorms that sucked people into the fiery maw, the oxygen hungry fires literally dragging people into them. The workers working aboard the ocean liners and merchant vessels too were trapped inside of their rapidly sinking ships, the precious metals, both raw and worked spilling into the harbor bay. Golden chandeliers from the ocean liners fell into the water, with men struggling to get out of the boats. The wreckage of the light cruiser was completely unrecognizable, twisted metal topped with charred flesh. The oil from the cruiser leaked into the harbor, burning the surface and killing the sailors that had managed to get off of their doomed vessels. The fire from the cruiser managed to leak to the ship next to it, melting the anti-corrosive plating and the conning tower, which had fallen off of the ship due to a previous run. The protected cruisers and battlecruiser fared slightly better, their thick coal bunkers blocking most of the damage, but still, two protected cruisers took on far too much water. The airplanes were useless, the airfleet having been impounded by the Alliance months before the incident.

Hours later, the survivors drifted through the burning harbor. Most of the men aboard the ferry were safe, having been near a shore. The ship was sunk, but the sailors and passengers were able to leap off of the ship at the last moment, a small victory in the grim harbor of death. A single Arcadisian light cruiser remained upright and fixable, but all men aboard had perished, the toxic smoke choking them to death. The mostly obsolete protected cruisers were in good condition, save for two which had been sunk. The battlecruiser had been heavily damaged and was beached upon the outer bay of the harbor, smoke rising from the burning coal bunkers, firemen still pumping water in a desperate attempt to put the fire out. All of it's turrets had fallen out and it's superstructure nearly nonexistant. Pieces of the superstructure littered the beach.

Overall, around 1097 Arcadisian Imperal Navy personnel had been killed, and around 1242 Arcadisian civilian workers had been killed. Around 137 Alliance military personnel had been killed as well. As the survivors, Arcadisian and Alliance alike, regrouped and recouped, they armed themselves with whatever they could find in preparation for a potential conflict in the near future.

Miklozia and Calarim

June 17, 1920
Rádio Calian

Jose De Silva the newscaster for Rádio Calian, Caloy’s most popular radio news show, reviewed his pre written script. He then signaled that he was ready to go on air.

“Good Morning Senhoras e Senhores, after three months of review and debate the Republic of Caloy has selected a new national flag from a large number of candiates. This new flag shall be issued to all government and military facilities by the end of the month. This new flag shall have a white background with a blue diamond representing water in the center bordered by a green diamond representing the land. Within the blue diamond shall be seven seven pointed stars representing the seven states of Caloy. In the center of this blue diamond is a sun with a green seven pointed star in it representing our nation’s unity under one sun.”

The radio host flipped his script to the next page

“Later this afternoon President Barros himself shall raise the new flag himself alongside members of our armed forces outside of the presidential palace. After which he shall give a statement about the flag.”

He took a deep breath before bringing more news to the public

“In other news, reports are trickling in of a massive naval battle off the coast of the nation of Arcadisia. As a nation our thoughts and prayers go out to the Arcadisian lives lost during this attack. This afternoon the president as well as State Secretary Phillip Gomes, Defense Secretary Simon Pinto, and Senator Emanuel Christo of Lágos shall hold a meeting to discuss this attack. Secretary Gomes issued a statement early this morning reassuring Caloy’s neutrality in international conflict. However he declared that Caloy stands ready to assist those wounded in this attack should the foreign government request. This is Jose De Silva signing off, enjoy the rest of your day my fellow Calians.”

As he went off air he could hear patriotic music replace his announcements on the radio.

Miklozia, Arcadisia, and Calarim

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