by Max Barry

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WA Delegate (non-executive): The Königreich of The Ruby Ranch Republic (elected )

Founder: The Federation of AWF Governance Committee

Last WA Update:

Board Activity History Admin Rank

Most Nations: 453rd Most World Assembly Endorsements: 514th Most Corrupt Governments: 657th+28
Largest Arms Manufacturing Sector: 759th Largest Manufacturing Sector: 775th Highest Wealthy Incomes: 790th Most Valuable International Artwork: 870th Largest Retail Industry: 871st Most Advanced Defense Forces: 883rd Most Patriotic: 922nd Largest Black Market: 927th Fattest Citizens: 930th Highest Average Incomes: 1,231st Highest Disposable Incomes: 1,256th Most Advanced Law Enforcement: 1,360th Largest Mining Sector: 1,368th Most Scientifically Advanced: 1,505th Largest Information Technology Sector: 1,531st Most Armed: 1,569th Most Subsidized Industry: 1,633rd Largest Governments: 1,939th Most Politically Apathetic Citizens: 1,952nd Lowest Crime Rates: 2,056th Most Avoided: 2,070th Smartest Citizens: 2,181st Most Advanced Public Education: 2,373rd Highest Unexpected Death Rate: 2,391st Most Influential: 2,419th Most Extensive Public Healthcare: 2,506th Most Developed: 2,528th Highest Poor Incomes: 2,556th
World Factbook Entry



The AWF Server is dead! Long Live the AWF Server!

Recent Happenings:

  • Government free since 9th August 2020

  • RP Year: 2037

  • RP Happenings:
    The new Canadian government has been decided with the pro-Ixilia NCPP coming out as the leaders of the governing coalition, but political strife continues to haunt the fledgling state.

    The delicate diplomacy between the nations of the Triumvirate alliance continues as the governments of Castelia and Eihlagonia continue to plot around the continent in pursuit of their ambitions.

Please endorse The Ruby Ranch Republic, our WA Delegate.


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    RP History

    MetaReference by AWF Dispatch Office II . 72 reads.

  2. 2

    Roleplay Maps

    MetaGameplay by AWF Dispatch Office II . 92 reads.

  3. 3

    Welcome to the AWF!

    FactbookMiscellaneous by AWF Dispatch Office II . 161 reads.

Embassies: Valentine Day, The United Empires of Carson, Urana Firma, The Chuckle Playground of Fun and Games, Gypsy Lands, Fredonia, The Monarchy alliance, Greater Middle East, Teremara, Regionless, Union of Terra Nova, Christmas Tree Golf Club, and ThunderClan.

Tags: Anarchist, Anime, Anti-Communist, Anti-Fascist, Democratic, Isolationist, Medium, Offsite Chat, Religious, Role Player, and Serious.

Regional Power: Moderate

Azure Watester Federation contains 40 nations, the 453rd most in the world.

Today's World Census Report

The Most Income Equality in Azure Watester Federation

World Census boffins calculated the difference in incomes between the richest and poorest citizens, where a score of 50 would mean that poor incomes are 50% of rich incomes.

As a region, Azure Watester Federation is ranked 15,265th in the world for Most Income Equality.

NationWA CategoryMotto
1.The Principality of AWF Dispatch Office IIPsychotic Dictatorship“My Neck Hurts”
2.The Soviet Socialist Czardom of Russia MajorCorrupt Dictatorship“Long Live the People's State”
3.The Workers imperial federation of TahiriesCorrupt Dictatorship“We are stronger together; but weaker apart”
4.The Republic of Independent Canadian StateDemocratic Socialists“Strong Against the World”
5.The Lotharingian State of The Waffle EmpireFather Knows Best State“The Emperor Protects”
6.The Federal Republic of ZhaoxiInoffensive Centrist Democracy“Follow the Lantern Towards Home”
7.The Dead food inspector of RuslivFather Knows Best State“Death to the Globalist”
8.The Immortal Federation of IridyiaPsychotic Dictatorship“From the ashes we rose, to the ashes we shall return”
9.The Commonwealth of LaunewDemocratic Socialists“Justice, Piety, Loyalty”
10.The Deutsches Kaiserreich of ZentralreichIron Fist Consumerists“Mit Gott und Kaiser Marschieren Wir”

Regional Happenings


Azure Watester Federation Regional Message Board

Statement from the Minister of Foreign Affairs on the Situation in Canada

Kir stepped out onto the stage, his eyes unblinking even in the face of the over-bright lights the press used for such occasions, the rattle of the cameras was immediate, the shutters on each one clicking furiously as their operators tried to capture the perfect image for their editor, not that they'd be allowed to publish a less than perfect image of course, their efforts would ultimately be cast aside if necessary to the image the Czardom wished to project. He reached his podium, the familiar dark-stained wood, the microphones adjusted to the perfect angle allowing him to be clearly heard without dipping his posture to meet them, water ready, and judging by the condensation on the glass; it was the perfect temperature.

He opened his folder onto the surface of the podium, turning to the page where his speech was pre-prepared, he cleared his throat almost inaudibly, and taking a small sip of water from his glass, began,

"Good afternoon, tovarischi" He greeted the press with a slight smile. "I'm very grateful you've all been able to join me today, I have a short statement so I shouldn't take up too much of your time, and we'll have questions at the end."

Looking into the eyes of journalists was a strange thing in the Czardom, in other countries where the press was kept less tightly controlled they had been described as sharks waiting for blood to drip into the water. The prelude to a vicious attack. But in Russia looking into the eyes of a journalist was on the one hand looking at a vicious animal, that animal would bite anyone, friends and allies included, to advance itself, and on the other hand looking at a tiny insect who very much knew its place. That was why Kir held his position in the first place, he was above the cutthroat but meaningless squabbles of the citizenry, who would end a life over the most trivial matter, only to have their own extinguished not much later. From here he safely steered the fates of millions, and here he would remain, so long as he enjoyed the confidence of the Czar, something he had never lacked.

He continued, "As you all know, recently the Canadian elections took place, the result of which is now that the National Canadian People's Party have entered a coalition government with the Conservatives and Canadian Restoration Party. We initially applauded this first exercise of truly Canadian democracy, free from the reins of the imperial government in London, and in due course the coalition was formed and as the Canadian people began to rebuild, the Canadian government began to rule."

Kir paused, scanning the crowd, "However, as this was all happening we did not anticipate that Canada would become what we see today, today we fear that Canada may at the first step have faltered, and it is a falter we must address. The cornerstone of a stable democracy is recognition and confessions of the state's misdeeds. What we are seeing today in Canada is a state that refuses to confess its misdeeds, parties taking foreign money and refusing to address it in the halls of parliament, recounts refused on grounds of practicality when Canadian allies stand ready to assist. Worse still, protestors are arrested in the streets, of the sacrosanct rights a democracy must afford protest is the most important, and even it is not sacred to the coalition government ruling Canada.

Needless to say we are deeply disturbed the decisions that the Canadian government has taken so far, however, we are desirous, as we hope many others in the world are, that the Canadian government should be able to continue to serve the Canadian people, and the indiscretions of the past weeks be put aside. To that end the Supreme Soviet has authorised financial aid totalling 5 billion dollars to be paid to the Canadian State as a one-time grant, with a further up to 15 billion available as a long-term loan with a nominal interest rate, alongside this financial aid, however, we would like to offer the Canadian government the use of our over 7,000 service-people stationed in Canada to count ballots and help protect ballot counting locations and government buildings. We offer this in good faith. However,"

Kir shifted slightly, point his one forefinger towards the podium and thrusting it down to emphasise his words.

"We will not be taken for fools. We will not allow the Canadian elite to profit from Soviet money and Soviet lives, the Canadian government must take the appropriate action, whether they do so with our help or not is a moot point. But what we will not do is endorse a regime that openly proliferates such unjust acts. If the Canadian state refuses to reform and conform to the reasonable standards of democratic states, the Czardom will be forced to reconsider its support of the Canadian republic.

We hope that these issues can be resolved in due course and that the Canadian people will swiftly return to the status they deserve among the respectable nations of the world."

Such statements were fodder to the journalists, who had been enraptured by his every word, they scribbled down their questions and comments quickly, and he waited a moment, before finally inviting their questions. The first came from a newspaper local to Magnitogorsk,

"Thank you, tovarisch Minister for your statement. Our tovarischi in Magnitogorsk would like to know, does this mean that Soviet soldiers will be returning from Canada."

"Thank you for your question tovarisch," he replied. "Our soldiers will remain in Canada, ready to defend it, until such a time as the current diplomatic situation becomes untenable, at which point we will reassess the situation and act accordingly."

The questions continued, some mundane, others edgier. At one point a teenager representing a socialist youth magazine in Moscow, evidently one of the few granted temporary press passes to such meetings as a taster of front-line journalism questioned the Czardom's direction, not-so subtly accusing the government of engaging in rank imperialism in Canada. Grigorev, of course, laughed, dismissing the youth with a comment to reread her theory textbook, but all the same he wrote the girl's name down on a pad obscured by the podium's walls, she'd suffer a swift demotion and, next time, wouldn't be so stupid. Drawing the conference to a close Kir decided to take one last question. A reporter from the national newspaper, the one issued by the government, asked whether he had any advice for the Canadian government.

"I'd advise them, tovarisch, that to have allies is a rare thing for many revolutionary states. They should not take them for granted, because one thing that is always unsure is whether their revolution will be last, or the first."

Breaking: War Has Finally Come To End

In a shocking turn of events, a war that wasn't supposed to last long lasted months, with thousands of deaths on both sides. But now, the north and south can rest easy knowing that the destruction is over. As is being reported, government troops have entered the rebel capital of Hanover today. Although resistance was met, the rebels presence in the city was all but destroyed. Government forces found and arrested the rebel high command from the Lister Tor building and have announced the rebels surrender. Although there are no signs of rebel premier Sfen Borrustin. Authorities occupying Hanover are completing searches currently. Borrustin, a known nationalist and outspoken supporter of Gaspar, was unceremoniously expelled from the Senate where he grew a massive following of nationalists and Gasparists. Although his attempt at a Gasparist state has failed, with him being missing there is still a possibility of another uprising in his name. With the victory in the North, the Conservative Alliance gains a massive victory with the upcoming Prime Minister elections coming up, giving Konrad Paulush an advantage with the fact that the Alliance was in power when Rubis was united. The elections could be very one sided. And in other news, Wilhelmshaven authorities are currently searching for a missing naval cruiser.

Somewhere in the North Sea

A man sitting on a boat watches the broadcast on a TV. He growls angrily and throws the TV off of the ship. A man in a black uniform with a red armband approaches him.

"Sir, are you alright? You just threw away our only TV." The man looked at the guard with an "I'm going to throw you overboard face." The guard backs down.

"Just tell the captain to get out of the North Sea, I don't want anyone finding us."

"Yes sir."

Our Brothers In The Western Hemisphere


Department of Foreign Affairs

While initially, the Castelian government refused to comment on the situation going on in the newly established Independent Canadian State, the Directory has decided to formally declare their support for the newly established republic. When asked about the response one of their allies, Russia Major, gave in regarding the election results, the Director of Foreign Affairs remarked: “While we would support our allies in Greater Petrograd in any other instance, the Empire will not second the Czardom in their condemnation of the current coalition government.” He refused to elaborate further on the comment. However, he did hint at Castel potentially sending economic support to help assist the fledgling state in rebuilding. While the reporters were stunned at the Castelian Federation’s seeming condemnation of Russia Major’s response, the Director assured them that: “While the Empire may disagree with the Czardom on the best course of action regarding the situation in Canada, we shall, and always will remain staunch allies of Russia. Both of our nations have similar goals, and it would be childish of the Federation to get bent out of shape over one disagreement.” However, he did express interest in potentially meeting with the Russian government to help better align the two nations goals in the region.

End Of The Rubian Civil War


With the end of the Rubian Civil War, the Empire has declared its intention to help assist in the rebuilding and rearming of The Ruby Ranch Republic. The Director of foreign affairs stated plainly Castel’s intention to further strengthen Castelian-Rubian relations, and potentially hinted at full integration of the Republic into the Imperium alliance. However, Maximus did state that any Castelian soldiers currently stationed in the nation would be withdrawn, even with the rising tensions in Europe. The Castelian government has also referred to its promise to help rebuild the Rubian navy through the use of Castelian shipyards, but denied that it definitely meant a Rubian entry into the alliance, stating that the deal was made prior to the formation of the Imperium.

For the Empire!

Canadian News Network - Liberal Party Exposed in Scandal, Galestern Ousted, Government Allows Audits, Protestors Call For Snap Election

Vancouver--After days of protesting, and in some cases, rioting, it appears that the pressure from the Russian Government was enough to force the coalition government's hand in agreeing to the audit and recount of the ballots cast in the election only two weeks ago. The Liberal Party applauded this change in direction. Meanwhile, an anonymous source posted evidence of the Liberal Party also having accepted funding from Vlamms Statt, a notoriously anti-democratic state in Europe. As a result, Galestern and much of the party leadership were forced to resign their seats after a large-scale party referendum. The incident has left the Liberal Party's image as one of hypocrisy, as CNN interviewers noted, since they were on the forefront of the push for audits and election integrity. Approval of the Liberal Party dropped drastically in post-scandal surveys conducted by the Canadian News Network, and it is unlikely that the Liberal Party will return to its former glory in time for the next election.

Audits are planned, the spokesperson for the coalition government said, and the government has also requested the assistance of the stationed Russian soldiers in the ballot audits. The coalition government is expected to remain in power, however. Meanwhile, protestors have celebrated their victory, but also have moved on to another demand, which is the complete dissolution of Parliament and the calling of a snap election, which they say is necessary due to the amount of foreign influence in the elections. The coalition government has made no statement on this demand, though police have for now stopped arresting protestors and returned to protecting government offices from harm. An audit report will be made to the Parliament after all ballots are counted, which the Commissioner for Election Integrity James Alasti said would take around a week, though he asked Parliament to give him and his Commission for Election Integrity, which is currently only staffed by Commissioner Alasti, two weeks to account for the need to obtain personnel to direct the effort. While protestors are unhappy about the lack of response from the government regarding snap elections, they have decided to wait for recounts, CNN interviewers were told.

The Liberal Party is expected to hold an immediate party election to elect their new leader after Galestern's departure.

The Castelian Federation wrote:Previously

The patrol car moved slowly through the quiet streets of the coastal Bahia suburbs. Private Duros had his eyes on the rickety homes about them, while Mara was tuned to the radio, sweeping channels and listening in to the chatter from further downtown.

The night was quiet, too quiet she felt. Then a sudden flash of light blinded Mara, followed by several popping noises, and then she felt a liquid splatter all over her body. When she opened her eyes, she saw a nightmare. Duros was missing his left side, and his organs were spilling onto the floor and her. And she adjusted further she realized it wasn’t just Duros that was missing parts but the whole vehicle which seemed to have been shredded. It was then she heard a voice.

“I suggest you step out of the car with your hands up. I won’t ask again.”

Mara, shaking and hyperventilating, slowly pushed open the door to her right, stumbling out of the vehicle.

Before her in the distance she saw a pale man in a pitch black Trench coat, and two hulking metal behemoths she had only seen prior on TV. She could feel every hair on her body stand up and the air almost smelt of evil.

“Good girl, now stay cooperative and we won’t break your bones. You have an audience with the most powerful man in the world you need to get to. Men, seize her.”

The metal behemoths grabbed her by the arms, slowly beginning to pull her away. As they did, the feeling returned. Cold. Immediately little droplets of ice began to build on her clothes and the metal suits. The only thing that wasn't was the sword sheathed on her back. As she lurched forwards, the sword turned to liquid and burnt right through the scabbard. As the liquid metal splashed to the ground, a plume of flame rushed forwards and through the faceplate of both suits. She could hear the muffled screams as the men inside seized up and burned, but the metal suits marched onwards unfazed.

The man in the trench coat looks panicked and for a brief moment she felt the aura of evil around her waiver. He barks something in a language she thought sounded vaguely of Greek. Several men shimmered into view, rifles in hand, and fired, and she felt several darts slam into her. The burning machines approached her still, their moments slowing.

When Mara's senses came back, she was cold, so painfully cold. As she roused herself and opened her eyes, she saw a number of eyes starring back. Yet none felt so piercing as the pair that were in the man who sat across from here. If the man she saw earlier was pale, the man she saw before her was like a void for color, it hurt her eyes to look upon him he was so painstakingly white. From head to toe he was white, garments included, save for some elegant gold embroidery on the robes, and a pair of brilliantly violet irises, and a black crown, that seemed to contrast with the paleness of its wearer and seemed to be akin to darkest color shade of black she had ever seen. As they locked eyes, she could feel it grow colder, and her breathing slowed, and a wave of terror washed over her. And then he stood up. The man, if it could even be called than, was a giant, standing at least 7 feet tall, with long gaunt limbs, and those brilliant eyes, as they grew closer, betrayed no sign of a soul.

Without even saying a word, she knew this was Caros Ixilia, Paramount Autocrat of Ixilia. And in stunningly elegant Eihla, he addressed her.

"You stand before the greatest sovereign in the world, what have you to say child of fire?"

Mara scampered a few feet back, eyes trying to dart about but always falling right back to the thing gazing at her. "Woah woah woah, dyuco, dyuco, no, no, no, what are you?"

In her hasty retreat, she nearly loses her balance, and looks behind her to see a massive winding staircase, which she can only guess must be about 5 stories worth, and at the foot of those stares is a massive area, thronging with more pale faced creatures. Yet her attention swiftly returned to the creature before here, who began to speak.

"I am indeed a God, your God, and the God of all that is below the sun and below the earth, and you'd do well to remember your place child."

And with that two Blades that Mara had not quite noticed forced her onto the cold marble ground into a kowtow, her head ringing from the force of the Blades.

"Now, tell me dog, who gave you the magics you posses."

Mara winced at the painful grip of the Blades holding her to the frigid ground. "So," she began through gritted teeth, "not long ago a fire creature started hanging around me, and the Order might have known something about it, and I went to Greece to try and find any old records on it since they stole a lot of stuff from the Order, and I didn't quite find any documents but I found a sword, which-" Mara twisted her head, trying to look for the blade. "Give it back."

"You will address me properly surface dweller, teach her to Kowtow again, but don't make her bleed."

With that the blades raised her head, and then repeated to slam her face to the marble several more times, her head ringing more and more with each.

The Autocrat's cold, dead eyes bore down upon her, they carried an alien look to them, and more disturbingly, she felt them burning into her more and more with every passing second.

"Tell me everything creature"

"Well if you want to know everything, almost fourteen billion years ago there was this thing called the big bang, but by looks I'd guess you saw it firsthand, then-"

The Autocrat's hand suddenly darted for her throat, and despite his apparent gauntness, the force was painfully crushing. With one hand he lifted her from the floor, and with another, he started moving his other hand toward her chest. It is only then she noticed his fingers were like daggers, each nail disturbingly sharp.

"Fine, a drop of your blood will answer all the questions I have anyway."

And with that the autocrat poke her right where he heart was, and drawing only the slight bit of blood, which he then proceed to lick off his finger while a blade cauterized the wound. In a moment, the Autocrat dropped her and reeled back, coughing and making the most gruesome and discordant noises she had ever heard in her life.


And with that, the Autocrat strode toward her, and raised a mighty fist, and she felt it fall upon her, sending her once more into blackness.

Mara awoke cold once more, but just a regular cold, and she noticed she was gone from that freakish throne room, but this time chained to a wall. Across from her was her blade, secured to the wall.

Mara pulled against the chains, but found no motion at all. Her eyes cased the chamber, first seeing the blade, then the guard standing across from her. "Hey," she said to the guard, "mind letting me out?"

The guard, seeing her awaken, approaches her, and lights a cigarette, and stuffs it in her mouth, and in very broken Eihla says,

"Enjoy... kill... soon... you...but... fun... first..."

And with that cracks a most cruel looking smile.

Mara's eyes narrowed in fury, she felt her jaw clench. With a huff, she closed her eyes. Find the center, she thought to herself. Find the center. Inside herself she saw a glowing spark. Orange, sharp and spastic. Rage. She glanced about in the darkness. Floating maybe ten yards away, a faint glowing outline of a blade. Her blade. She reached for it, but the darkness felt like molasses. Mara clawed outwards, inching closer, until she could grab the outline. The viscous darkness loosened, and another light appeared, red and pulsing gently. She grabbed it.

The guard reached to pull the cigarette from his mouth when he felt his arm tense. Then twitch on its own. The guard watched his limbs, moving independently, spasm and bend and shift, walking his body towards Mara His right hand slammed to the left side of his belt, before jerking the keys up in front of him. He watched in horror as his own hands unlocked one of her arms, and as the girl, still with eyes closed, pulled him into a chokehold, until his world went dark.

What followed was a blur, her only distinct memory being securing her blade, and the screams of terrified Ixilians. When she awoke again, she felt a terrible pain, realizing, that she had several cauterized bullet wounds. More alarming though, was that the beach and vegetation on it, looked like nothing from Eihlagonia. Her fear only mildly subsided when she spotted a small town in the distance. Maybe they could help her?
Vyros stared blankly at the mangled patrol car. “So this was the one she was in?”

“Yessir. Private Duros’ body is en route to the coroner’s office, but she appears to have survived the crash, and left the scene afterwards.”


“I don’t believe so.”

Vyros frowned. “Find the oladmes responsible for this. Put it down or bring it in.”

“And the girl?”

“Same parameters. Get it done.”

Thank you to Ixilia for the cowrite!

Church of Saint Constantine the Avenger, Dubrovnik
June 7th, 2030

The atrium of the church was a mess of people and hastily-assembled radio equipment. Gallienus loomed over a map of the city spread out over the altar, directing the conquest of the remaining resistance pockets with Palaelogus and Issac by his side. All the exhaustion of the previous weeks had melted off, the aged statesman exchanged his suit and tie for the old grey fatigues of the imperial army. Issac's attention darted from the ceiling to the map and back again, in constant fear of a retaliatory airstrike that would never come. Away from the others, stood in the corner of the room, a usually somber Claude had exchanged quiet melancholy for hot rage. The Alpean nobleman was red faced and screaming furiously at some beleaguered representative of the Croatian government over the phone. Soft-spoken Parmenion, out of his element amidst these men of war, elected to get some fresh air. He slipped out the back and took to admiring the church's exterior.

All initial operations had been a success for the most part. Kafairi and Alpean squads worked in tandem to seize the industrial district, securing it without a shot being fired. Kyavani troops managed to link up with their sleeper agents in the National Guard and pushed the bewildered Croatians out of downtown and into the old city. The mayor had turned over the city as soon as the Kyavani came knocking on his door. Palaelogus' contingent faced the most trouble. Securing control of the roads entering the city proved more difficult than the initial predictions anticipated. Local forces provided such staunch resistance that only once the Kafairi arrived with heavier weapons could the Thronists take the roads. Even so, repeated attempts by local armed forces to retake the entrances to the city ensured that a full third of all men in the expedition were tied up holding down the fort.

Dubrovnik stood at a standstill. Her once vibrant streets lay deserted as citizens sheltered from the battle inside their homes. Members of the city's police forces loyal to the revolutionaries attempted to maintain some semblance of order within the liberated districts. Thronist troops lined up and detained captured Croatian soldiers and personnel as the Mayor was forced to beg his government to surrender the city. The hectic violence of the past four hours had largely dissipated as fighting was contained to the hills outside the city. Sporadic gunshots could still be heard in the direction of the Aurea palace where the last remnants of the Croatian garrison desperately held off against the combined Thronist forces. Even so, the city's fate sat on a knife's edge as the revolutionaries waited with baited breath for the Government's response to their terms.

By the late evening and hour six of the operation many of the Thronists began to worry. Rumors of a massive Croatian counterattack spread like wildfire and the ever present threat of bombings cowed the less experienced men of the expedition. The four architects of the operation sat alone and silent in the church, each man wracked with anxiety, waiting for any sign of their victory. Then the phone rang. The Croatian Government agreed to a ceasefire and had sent a delegation to the city to formalize the peace agreement, Dubrovnik was theirs. The men whooped and Gallienus ordered the Thronist forces to stand down. They'd won. The Golden Throne had returned.

Outside Church of Saint Constantine the Avenger, Dubrovnik
June 7th, 2030, 3:53 PM

Parmenion ran his hand over the bullet-scarred wall as he moved along the outside of the ancient building, taking in the strange but faintly familiar atmosphere. Hastily raised and tattered banners from the old empire waved lazily in the breeze, antiques no doubt. He stopped for a moment to inspect one of them, lightly tracing the faded cross at the center with one finger, lost in thought. Where would they go from here? How would the world react to their actions today? How could a little under two thousand men hope to rebuild the greatest nation the world had ever seen? Questions upon questions flooded his mind, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Typical Kyavani." an unfamiliar voice jolted Parmenion back to reality, "Always putting yourselves at the center of everything." Parmenion turned to face the source of the voice. He was greeted by a lanky young man no older than himself, dressed in the dust-covered uniform of the Alpean contingent, "Typical Alpean." Parmenion grinned, "Always trailing behind the Kyavani." The two men laughed and Parmenion paused, allowing the other man to join him. Together they set off once more, "What is your name brother?" Parmenion inquired, "You were not among the officers Doux Manon introduced me to."

"I'm Edouard. Edouard Brimeu." The young man smiled. Parmenion's eyes widened with realization, "Oh! You're the son of the duke aren't you? Claude mentioned you." Edouard shrugged, "The very same. And you are Parmenion Bardas are you not? What dragged you away from the war room?" Parmenion chuckled at the uncharacteristically cheerful looking Alpean's question, "I am I am. Though I was never a military man. My fight will be in the halls of the senate after this dreadful business is finished." He trailed off, gathering his thoughts, "How about yourself?" He continued, "You've the look of a military man. Perhaps you could take my place." Edouard laughed, "If only. No I came to find you actually. Everyone else is busy winning the war it seems." Parmenion chuckled and shook his head, "Indeed my new friend. But why seek me out, hm? I'm not exactly the face of the revolution." He asked. Edouard thought for a moment and shrugged, "I've got a very old friend with a very old name I think you'd be interested in meeting." Parmenion thumbed his chin as a smile crept onto his face, understanding what the Alpean implied, he gestured for the man to continue, "Oh do go on."

A little anti-climactic I know. But I've been swamped with AP testing and promise I'll be better next time

Secrets of The Civil War


SVG Imperial Archives

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Ye sir, I am certain of it. However, without proper testing on a live population, we won’t know for certain if it will work as intended. While we do have access to the prototypes used in the Third Civil War, they are outdated, and do not use the same technology we currently are.”

“I see, while I would normally grant you the ability to test it, we cannot risk the project getting leaked. Even if it would be more effective to test it on a live population, it would be too risky.”

“Of course sir, but without proper testing, we won’t know for certain. Although, with the information we acquired from the initial prototypes used in the Third Civil War, it may just be enough to enter the third phase of the project. However, the prototypes do not use the same technology as we are using, not to mention the fact that they are outdated by 50 years.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take.”

“Very well sir. I will begin preparations to enter the third phase of the project as soon as possible. Although, with your most recent policies of allowing more foreign interference, I may be forced to postpone the project to ensure its continued secrecy.”

“Indeed, and I will ensure that this project remains a secret to the rest of the alliance.” The figure pauses for a moment. “Judging from your expression, I can tell you are curious about the disaster that was Bahia. While I was assured that 41 had not told them anything important, he still has... Been dealt with. All I can tell you is that he will not be an issue in the future.”

“Interesting... So he managed to evade telling his captors about this project?”

“Let me put it this way, while they are aware that we have experimental weaponry, they do not know the full extent of our arsenal, luckily for us. However, this could change. But with the little knowledge of the Third Civil War outside of Castel, it remains unlikely.”

“Of course.” He gives out a sigh of relief. “Although it is good to hear that the SVG agent didn’t give any information regarding this project, that would have been a disaster. However, I am surprised the agent only lasted three days. I would have thought the SVG would have trained their agents to handle more.”

“The SVG does, 41 was... A special case. We hadn’t taken into account trauma he had gained through his service in the civil war. But don’t worry, we are already in the process of rectifying this.”

“Hm... That’s good to hear. But while on the topic of politics, I am sure you are aware of the sudden death of the Director of Economics, no?”

“I am, why do you ask?”

“I was curious to see if your organization had a hand in his death.”

“We did not. However, seeing as he was staunchly pro Ixilian, I am sure the Directory is relieved that one of the major bastions of the Autocracy has finally died. Perhaps the Emperor might finally do something to challenge the growing influence of Ixilia over the economy. Seeing as the previous Director was only able to pass the bill to allow foreign investment in our industry through a very close vote, with him gone, I have no doubt the first decision of the new Director will be to repeal it. However, seeing how the Ixilians threw a tantrum last time Castel bucked them, it remains to be seen if the Directory will be able to maintain this anti Ixilian stance without the economy taking a major hit.”

“Indeed, it shall be.” He checks his watch. “It appears it is time for me to go.”

“Then by all means, I wouldn’t want to restrict you from your work.”

For the Empire!

A warm breeze washed over the deteriorated land that once held a glorious nation. The twelve islands that surrounded two massive islands sitting in grayscale waste, uninhibited, uninhabitable, forgotten to the stand of time. The name rings deafly to all who remember. The scimitars that sit behind thrones and office chairs, the golden roses that sprout in luxury, the name that spoke softly, yet wrongdoings almost brought a region to its knees.

Krvava Koupel.

In the midst of the chaos and destruction, the booming nation had succumbed to its weight, and ceased to exist soon after. Leaving not a trace but a mass of hollow emptiness.

A small hum comes from this emptiness, leaving mystery in its wake.

And in the center of this vast island, to behold any traveler that goes makes the trek...

A single golden rose.

London, Britannia


The tall buildings in the metropolis shone bright even on the darker nights. There was always someone working, even at this hour, which was almost one in the morning--not just someone, but a whole army of technicians, service personnel, and anyone who held a somewhat respectable job in London. They would be subject to working hours that might have been considered abusive or inhumane in a different world, but here it was the norm. You either accepted your hours and showed up, or you went and lived in the slums--there was no in-between. In that regard, most metropolitans were lucky. They didn't need to risk being shot or stabbed on their way to the grocery store, instead trading that for excessively long shifts and workdays. This was either a good thing or a bad thing depending on how you looked at it, and there was the sneaking suspicion in management that many of their workers would prefer being stabbed over working twelve hours a day. Though in the words of the famously apathetic management, "that's the price you pay for a good economy", and indeed it might have been. The higher class among the Londoners had been enjoying lavish lifestyles for several decades, though it was dubious at best to claim that this was by any effort of their own. The rich elites may, at one point, have been self-made men, entrepreneurs and skilled businessmen. But the current generation of the wealthy stood only upon the shoulders of giants, who were the people that laid the groundwork for the modern-day rich. Which, all things considered, wasn't so bad given the economic development those giants had brought. It was always a reoccuring thought in the government that the current people did not deserve their positions, having mostly weaseled their way into being the successor of large, immesely successful companies, but the prevailing opinion was simply that it was not the government's place to judge. While it might have been a surprise to those who thought the government should be more dictatorial, this was actually a commonplace attitude than full control over state economy. Unreasonable anti-communist attitudes in the early periods of the country played a role in discouraging ideals of state economies, though it ended up that way regardless, just without the red banners, and by negotiation rather than by force. Imperial Armaments, for example, competed with its peers in Kalisto Defense International, PolyTech, and for a time Obsidian Corporation before its more recent downfall, and while Imperial Armaments had access to government funding it was more or less privately managed. This was undoubtedly a good thing for most, and definitely for the arms manufacturers that supplied Imperial Armaments with new designs to produce at the biannual Cambridge Arms Expo. Imperial Armaments itself was not so much an arms company as a government-funded advertising board for the other companies, as since its founding Imperial Armaments never produced an original design. It simply co-opted other designs and gave them the proper accreditation when needed--that is to say, when the company in question was one of the big names in the arms industry.

The arms industry was, however, only a small portion of the British economy, which was quite large and prosperous. By far the largest earner was in retail, for which men and women alike had to sell their souls to get higher up in. The various shops in London, for instance, employed the same people they had employed fifteen years ago when the Golden Throne was still around as they did now, working the exact same positions now as they did then. Maybe those cashiers and managers and staff would receive a few percentage points of increase in their paychecks, and their benefits might have also increased. But there had been little to no mobility in this field, and it was a place where you worked the same job from university graduate to the graveyard. At least the people here earned a lavish paycheck (by the standards of the employees from when the corporate stores had first opened their doors), and could enjoy the other aspects of their lives when they weren't working themselves down to the bone. But it wasn't inefficient, at least, because everyone in this industry, and in almost all industries across Britannia, were very good at their jobs. It was simply that the system promoted rigidity, because each job had its own set of skills that almost never intersected with any other field of employment. Promoting an employee universally meant putting them in a position where they were less competent, and that was something the men at the top could not accept. For a machine, the corporations ran beautifully, with each cog doing exactly as they needed and no more or less. But the people, who were these cogs, they lived exactly like a machine at work, and they were happy.

The only way to move upwards these days seemed to be through university. The prestigious University of London, for example, was one of three universities in Britannia partially funded by the government, the other ones being Edinburgh and Cambridge. This meant the government paid for a part of the tuition, and the universities were considered to be some of the best in the country simply because of the opportunities it offered and the professors that taught there. A few other private universities would hold the same rank, but the most popular universities were still London, Edinburgh, and Cambridge--London was renowned for its programs in science, technology, and mathematics; Edinburgh for its business schools; Cambridge for its engineering. The Univeristy of Cambridge in particular was close to the Cambridge Arms Expo, where prominent business magnates in the defense industry would meet every two years, and usually this was not to display the products of their most recent design efforts, though that was certainly something that happened. Primarily this arms expo attracted prospective engineering students, who would pitch their products to the businessmen and army officials there, and with some luck and recognition, they could become interns in the industry, or even the army, and eventually being employed in an engineering sector. Even if it was not the arms industry, it was a glorious field of work, and one of the higher-paying jobs on the market. Graduates from the University of London would have similar future prospects, only that they became technicians and specialists, often in the IT or software field; or they became scientists and researchers, and would work under private or government employ. The Univeristy of Edinburgh was the alma mater for many a successful entrepreneur, and it held an annual competition, the Edinburgh Business Competition, on its campus, which students competed in for the attention of various large companies. This was considered to be the most important event in the whole four to five years of an Edinburgh student--it was okay to not show up to class, but missing the competition doomed one's future almost certainly. That was why there was a whole two weeks of break to come up with a pitch for the competition at the university, and with any luck the students would be invited to various internships and positions at the companies, from which they had a considerable chance of working their way up in the company, unlike the base-level employees that came and stayed for the rest of their lives. Admissions for all three was highly competitive, and tuition was expensive, but there was always a place for the bright and hard-working through the various scholarships and awards given out over the course of the final year of high school.

Opposing the stretch of corporate stores was a large residential area primarily composed of towers and condos. The condos and some of the towers were reserved for the middle class, for who rent was cheaper than might have been expected; but the highest floor was usually the CEO's office if this was a headquarters, or the office of the highest ranked official otherwise. What was interesting about these offices was that they sometimes doubled as a home as well--this was not to say they didn't have their own homes elsewhere, but in the interest of efficiency and time management they would live out of their offices. This was still much better in terms of conditions as compared to most people in Britannia, but it was nothing as compared to the richest of the richest. They lived in massive mansions, usually located right outside of the residence blocks in an area where many of these mansions gathered over time. Probably one magnate or another decided to build their residence here, and others eventually built theirs next to that house. It was a whole sector of the city with fabulous mansions, though most of them were behind heavy gates and guarded by private security, much to the dismay of the other denizens of the city and the occasional tourist. For most, though, the gated communities were just another fact of life, that a certain part of the city was off-limits to all but the rich and powerful. Not that they wanted to complain about this arrangement anyways, because what the rich did in their own homes was of no concern to the average British citizen, who had more important things to worry about.

Today the security was extraordinarily heavy and also seemed to be composed of a multitude of different companies. This was in fact the case, because at this residence, 154 King's Road North, there was a meeting--described as a party, but people of that status didn't really attend parties anymore--with a rather long list of invited attendees from across several industries. They shared two things in common: they were the shareholders of many large companies, and they were all obscenely wealthy. Obscenely was hardly an understatement when looking at net worth, and even outside of that they still held an incredible amount of material wealth in real estate and even just plain cash. 154 King's Road North was the residence of one Victor Saheta, primary shareholder of Kalisto Defense International at 14.7%. Many of the people he invited to his home, which was as much a residence as a work of art, held shares in Kalisto Defense, or in PolyTech, or in some other big-name company. They were joined by a very special guest today, which was Aiden Ross, in a black suit and red tie, the standard outfit for such an occasion. To his left and right was Vigil and Equinox, who had been selected to provide his security detail. Other White Rose soldiers--as compared to the private security--were outside the house, though they would not be entering the house with him. Further down the road was a limousine that was obviously armoured, with a designated driver who was waiting inside the car. His security, however, did not intimidate the people inside the house, because even the White Rose couldn't operate without their support, and attacking the shareholders and magnates at a party was a sure-fire way to lose it. There was nothing to be gained from doing that either, so they were more or less safe as long as Aiden wasn't a madman, and he had proven himself not to be one over the years. He was reliable, and powerful, yet distanced by the nature of his employ from government agents or any other corporate entity. It was good to work with him, as he was a person who took money and his job seriously. The same could not be said for some of the others that they had worked with in the past.

They were here to discuss a matter that required some meeting, more of a formality in this day and age but still something enjoyable. Victor was a big enjoyer of expensive liquor, though his particular tastes was mainly the reason for the heightened cost. As a partial owner of a liquor company, though, his tastes could be catered to, and this he did very often, diverting a rather large portion of the company's profits towards his own cabinet. Whether they enjoyed this arrangement was irrelevant to Victor, as it was quite literally the only reason he continued to fund the company. It also left most people staying away from his self-curated whiskey collection among other hard liquors, since it really was an acquired taste. Fortunately there were some other high-end and non-tailored drinks in a separate cabinet, because Victor also realized that his tastes were not shared by most. There wasn't any reason for these men and women to drink except for the fact that it didn't feel right if they weren't doing that, the exception again being Aiden. He had flown in from Almadaria to attend, and he was the only person here not to be living in some sort of mansion. These days he was always in some kind of bunker or safe house, with operatives surrounding him and White Rose soldiers everywhere else, and his very presence came as a surprise to some, who had expected that he was going to show up as a video call on a screen. This meeting was enough to get his personal attendance. For the others who knew why the invitations had been sent, they also knew why Aiden was here, and it was because they were meeting to discuss Canada. Not the political situation, though it was certainly best described as a chaotic dumpster fire; rather, they were here to discuss the economic situation, which specifically involved one prominent arms manufacturing company, PolyTech. Its headquarters was exactly opposite of Obsidian Corporation's, and this meant that it was the focus of a few particularly intense rounds of shelling and fighting. The fact that the ruins now belonged to the Republic of Canada instead of Britannia was also a problem for PolyTech, though the headquarters was more a status symbol than something functionally vital. The problem was that the war in Canada had also put much of PolyTech's supply chain on hold for the year it was raging, mostly because its upper management had perished at some point in the revolution. This was neither good for the company nor its stock price, and this was an issue for the stockholders, most of whom were meeting here, but especially for Aiden Ross, who relied on PolyTech primarily for its weapons supply.

Aiden wanted to arrange a deal with another company now that PolyTech was probably doomed. Perhaps not, but he needed guns and PolyTech certainly did not have them. He wasn't going to cut business ties with PolyTech because it costed him nothing to keep them, but Aiden could not base his entire weapons supply on the future recovery of PolyTech's supply chain. In the grand scheme of things, this would be a minor deal. A company as large as PolyTech was not that fragile, and while they may never return to their former glory, they would recover perhaps in only a month or two. Until then, though...

"I'm sure you've heard of me, Mr. Calico."

Mr. Calico referred to Brian Calico, majority shareholder of Kalisto Defense International and successful entrepreneur and investor in the arms industry. Their relationship with White Rose has always been oscillating between business partner and threat to operational security, much like White Rose and the government, but the threat White Rose posed to Kalisto was more that their partnership with PolyTech put Kalisto at a frequent disadvantage, not to mention the various raids on Kalisto's contractors.

This was, surprisingly, the two men's first meeting in-person. They obviously knew of the other's spositions and what they did, but with the nature of Aiden's dealings they never had much opportunity to meet.

"I have, Mr. Ross. Your reputation is... far-reaching."

That put it rather mildly. Aiden Ross was notorious for his dedication as much as he was respected for it, and Brian was not a fan of the constant reports of White Rose proving Kalisto's advertisements wrong. While he did not have any animosity towards Aiden himself, Brian wasn't about to feel happy about eeting the man behind it all in person.

"Then surely you know why I'm here?"

"I don't, but I can guess. You need a supplier while PolyTech recovers from the war, and Kalisto is your pick."

"You'd be right, Mr. Calico. I need a deal with your company. Are you familiar with my deal with PolyTech?"

"Yes, I am. Five percent of manufactured products are specially allocated to your organization, bought at slightly higher than market price. A good deal, if you ask me, but I don't see why you're bringing it up."

"I want to make the same deal to you, Mr. Calico. As long as PolyTech isn't back to operational capacity, I need a different supplier. Obsidian is ruined, and Kalisto is the only one that competes with PolyTech. So I'm proposing this deal to you, the same one I had with PolyTech. We can work out the specifics later, but right now--yes or no?"

"Yes, Mr. Ross. I accept."

It was a good deal, anyways. There would be details to hammer out, but right now, this was great. Kalisto had just gained a huge lead over PolyTech, not to mention Obsidian, by simply waiting out the war in Canada, and now it would be cemented. White Rose was a powerful business partner after all, and securing their favour was something that Brian wanted to do.

"Happy to hear, Mr. Calico. Now, a drink?"

Brian smiled, and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"A drink. What do you want?"

"Whiskey... I've been missing my liquor cabinet at my office. Let's see if his is any good."

And so, over drinks, the two began to plan out their deal.

Isle of Hydra, Off the Coast of Morea August 3rd, 2030, 5:30 P.M.

Parmenion stepped off the ferry with his two attendants and inhaled the fresh Aegean air. The small, sunbathed port spilled out before him, untouched by the years of conflict that ravaged mainland Kyavan. Its pristine white and red buildings, while not as grand as the classical masterworks of Constantinople and Dubrovnik, possessed their own quiet charm. Before he got caught up exploring the town Parmenion shook himself and turned to the task at hand. He examined the small villas perched on the hills surrounding the crescent harbor, straining to pick out the details of each one. "Sir, we have the address, there's no need to look." his aid said. Parmenion laughed ruefully, "Fair enough fair enough, lead the way captain."

The thirty-minute walk from the heart of the port to their destination was grueling. Parmenion fought a never-ending battle against sweaty strands of hair clinging to his forehead, constantly flinging them back into place with a brush of his hand. Deceptively beautiful from a distance, the hills of Hydra were uneven and the pathways in poor condition. Even so, it was hard for the trio to ignore the spectacular view afforded to them. They ignored the vast expanse of the Aegean Sea and pressed forward. They arrived at the isolated hilltop villa breathless and sweaty, but composed. They entered through the small walking gate in the low wall ringing the courtyard. The well cut lawn was reminiscent of Helene's garden, covered in hundreds of different species of flora, perfectly maintained even in the torrid Aegean heat. While his companions collapsed on the conveniently placed bench outside the residence, Parmenion himself walked towards the porch and banged on the ornate door.

A little boy opened the door and stared up at Parmenion with inquisitive grey eyes. Before he could say anything the boy darted back into the house and was replaced with a tall, plainly dressed man with a short beard. The man looked Parmenion up and down with a raised eyebrow, "May I help you?" he asked curtly. Parmenion cleared his throat and unconsciously bowed, "Prince Romanos, my name is Parmenion Bardas. I represent the recently-reinstated government of the Golden Throne. It is an honor to meet you, sir. May I step inside?" he asked, offering the Prince his hand. Romanos thought for a moment, rubbing his beard. After a few seconds he shook his hand and tentatively stepped aside, "You are welcome but your friends stay outside." he replied. Ignoring the disgruntled murmurs from his staff, Parmenion stepped inside with a tight smile.

"So, what would possess you to leave the safety of your rogue state and seek out the disgraced head of a destitute house." Romanos asked as he shut the door. While he considered his response, Romanos moved into an adjacent living room and sat down on one of its plush chairs, motioning for Parmenion to follow. The room was well decorated, old paintings hung on every wall save one which was dominated by a massive window that looked out over the island. "Well you see..." Parmenion started, taking a seat across from Romanos, "We are an Empire without an Emperor. The task of finding an Emperor has fallen to me." he said. The Prince nodded, "I see I see. Well you've come to the wrong place. I've been told my values do not mesh well with the image of the throne." Romanos replied somewhat bitterly, "But that is neither here nor there." Parmenion sighed and shook his head, "That is exactly why you are the man for the job. The new Throne needs new leadership, progressive leadership." he paused to regain his breath, "I will be honest. We need you. The Throne needs a unifying figure. All the other Aureas are dead, without you all we've fought for crumbles." Romanos snickered but quickly raised his hand in apology, "I tried you know." He said, "To take power here in Kyavan after the collapse. Had a great showing too. A good name can get you far in mainland politics, none more storied than mine." He chuckled, "But you know what the politicians in Constantinople told me when I asked for the throne?" His tone grew dark and his face angry, "They told me I didn't have what it took. They gave my birthright to the deranged bastard offspring of Lysander instead. All because I wouldn't sign off on the constant wars and repression my people were subjected to." Romanos leaned back, speaking with less vitriol now, "Look at me now Parmenion. I have a wife and two children to raise now. My life here is comfortable. I won't gamble all I've managed to retain here on your fantasy of a reborn monarchy."

Parmenion was stunned. He'd assumed totalitarian tendencies were a genetic trait of the Aureas, passed down as consistently as their grey eyes. And yet here sat a direct descendant of Marcus advocating for civil liberties and by god, peace!? He whetted his lips, choosing his next words deliberately, "Sir, that is exactly the kind of attitude we need at this time." He gathered his thoughts again before continuing, "Even with our victory and the armistice with the Croatian government, conflict remains. My brother and his cohorts would see the entirety of the new nation's resources turned to the total reconquest of the Empire. If he had his way we would align ourselves with the fanatics in Russia Major and Droiden, falling into the worst aspects of our past. No, I am not asking you to take the reins of power as your ancestors did and as Gallienus would prefer. I am asking if you will share that power with me and the people of the Throne. Together we can restrain my brother and engineer a prosperous and noble nation. We could build an Empire of equals Romanos! Is that not what you've wanted? An Empire where all four pillars are equal, no man subservient to any other. No families torn apart by the warmongering of greedy Emperors. Without you my brother will pivot to the past and burn down half of Europe in his quest. Millions will die if you don't do something now for Christ's sake man!" he stopped. His last words spat out like venom. Parmenion's passion had run dry, he'd said his piece. His hands trembled with barely contained anger. He hoped that the Prince would agree with his vision for the Throne but with each second Romanos remained silent he grew more and more worried. Romanos thumbed his chin, looking out the window to the town below and the sea beyond, deep in thought. He gave a long sigh and looked back at Parmenion, studying his face. Finally, he spoke, "Let me speak with my wife. But you are right Parmenion. It is my duty to protect our people." He sighed again, "You and your men are free to stay the night. The guest bedrooms are in the left wing. You will have my answer in the morning."

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