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Frozen Dreams, Black Gold
Topic Started: Oct 6 2015, 10:22 PM (613 Views)
Porcu
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

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One could be forgiven for mistaking the area just north of the Porcuian province of Narvik as a militarized border between two neighboring countries. That isn't to say that the area was not militarized, as it very much was, or that it was not a potential source of conflict between two powers, as it absolutely was. Rather, the appearance of Porcuian guard towers opposite from Austrian defensive bunkers may have led one to reach an erroneous conclusion as to the nature of the present conflict.

The discovery and establishment of the Loki oil platforms was supposed to herald the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship between the Republic of Porcu and the East German Federation, as the present Austrian state was then known. Subsequent events destroyed the flower, young as it was, that had been planted. It was generally agreed that no seed had survived. Further evidence of that assumption came in the form of a special ops mission by the Porcuians to capture the Austrian platforms by surprise. While the platforms of the Loki oil field were now exclusive domain of the Republic, the Austrians were not forced into leaving the vast and imposing spaces of Norge Septentriones, which they had only begun to acclimatize to.

It was hoped by those in Ariminae, on the opposite end of Scandinavia and the seat of the Porcuian state, that the newly born Austrian Empire, aggressive as it had become in the Balkans, could be starved of oil. Indeed, for many in Parliament, it was the only possible conclusion they could reach, for only the radical members of the Right were prepared to risk the chaos of war. Yet, that strategy did not prove enough. Indeed, the Austrians only dug themselves deeper inside and around the independent city of Harstad. Still, the rash decision by the previous Porcuian administration had worked to a degree - the loss of a key oil and petroleum resource had initially startled the Austrians and then been a major inconvenience that bordered on a serious problem.

At present, the situation was calm yet combustible.

...

Despite their impressive showing in the last general election, the National Coalition for the Defense of the Republic, a novice far-Right political party mostly composed of dissatisfied republicans, conservatives, and self-described nationalists, did not have a single member elected to the Consilium, a result wonderfully planned and coordinated by the young communist leader Publius Vibius Pansa. This lack of representation within the body that acted as the executive within the Republic meant that Spurius Tricostus Caeliomontanus was without an ear and a convenient way to measure the thoughts of President Tarquinius Atratinus or the future plans of the government.

So, he decided to head out on a grand speaking tour. His reception within Porcu proper was mixed, but his reception without improved considerably. Especially in Narvik. The Norwegians were, historically, a relatively conservative populace who were happy to trade their absolute independence for semi-autonomy several centuries ago. However, while gradual Porcuian influences were able to liberalize the coastal regions of Norge Septentriones, the bustling metropolis of Narvik continued to remain a stronghold for conservatives into the present.

A newcomer to the political arena, Tricostus Caeliomontanus rarely felt at home in a crowd, but was able to loosen somewhat during his address to a large gathering in one of the many public squares in downtown Narvik. His advisers filled his ears with praise afterward and suggested that he remain to speak with members of the audience.

Tricostus Caeliomontanus returned to the small stage and began taking questions from the audience. The discussion and volley of questions and answers continued for some time and the ultra-conservative leader noticed on several occasions the gaze of an audience member, one specific man sharply put together in a winter jacket. Finally retiring for the day, Tricostus Caeliomontanus motioned to exit and made it halfway down the stairs before a strong hand grabbed his arm just above the elbow. Security officials were immediately at the leader's side, though there was no struggle or use of force.

"Just a minute of your time, Sir."

The man, the same one who had been intently watching Tricostus Caeliomontanus during the event, was military - that was immediately obvious to anyone who took a moment to look.

The ultra-conservative leader looked the man over before replying. "Military? What's your name?"

"Yes, Sir. Praefectus centurionis Augustus Valerius Publicola, commander of the 74th infantry battalion stationed at Castra Aeolus."

Tricostus Caeliomontanus' eyes widened. "Camp Aeolus, eh? Well, you certainly don't need me to explain anything to you. I think your service to the Republic is the greatest exercise of patriotism. It is always inspiring to meet brave men and women such as yourself, Major."

"You are very kind, Sir. I was hoping you could enlighten me as to when we will finally finish off the Austrians and return the whole of Norge Septentriones into Porcuian hands?"

"Ah..." Tricostus Caeliomontanus raised his eyes and sighed. He lifted his shoulders in a heavy shrug. "The National Coalition has been left out of the Consilium, so I have no way of directly knowing what this government is planning on doing to solve the situation here at Loki. The best I can say is that it does not appear to be of any concern to Tarquinius Atratinus, or any of the socialists and communists that constitute the Consilium."

"It is of great concern to us here, Sir. I applaud your efforts at speaking the hard truths. I serve to protect the Republic and would do anything I could to see her safe."

A staff member discreetly stepped up onto the stairs and whispered into the leader's ear. A fast approaching storm threatened to ground his aircraft from leaving Narvik, which threatened to throw off his whole speaking schedule for the following day. Tricostus Caeliomontanus acknowledged the fact with a curt nod and a slow motion of his head, signaling to his security team to begin clearing a path for him.

The well-built Major stuck out his hand and managed to get a quick handshake from the ultra-conservative leader before the latter was whisked away.
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Porcu
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

The frozen, snow-covered frontier remained just as still as it had previous months. Tense and still. By now some of the men stationed on the outskirts of the Loki platforms had become somewhat complacent, while others had given up on hiding their boredom.

Until the near-scandal-that-wasn't.

The public received only a very limited picture of the chain of events that unfolded, which actually was not much less than what most of the military brass would come to understand. It suffices to say that the whole thing was kept tightly under wrap, Major Augustus Valerius Publicola leading the effort.

...

"What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Thinking?"

The young Lieutenant, a man of short words and simple phrases, sat across from his superior with an expression that bordered on the guilty and the hostile, as if a child caught in a bad act yet having the gall to defend themselves.

Major Valerius Publicola repeated his question, even more slowly this time.

"I hate them."

"What?"

"I hate them, sir. The Austrians, sir."

Valerius Publicola stood there in the middle of the small, compact room devoid of all furnishings except for the chair that the young Lieutenant now occupied with a look of pure confusion. "Come again, Lieutenant..."

"They should be driven into the sea, sir."

"Lieutenant, 2nd Class, Marcus Ninnius Adauctus, do you understand the severity of your planned actions and the possible consequences thereof?"

The Lieutenant was a young man, several years younger than Valerius Publicola in fact, but in that moment he appeared properly juvenile. Heavy set, with hands and arms that could snap planks of wood, Ninnius Adauctus had a strong jawline and seemingly permanently rose-tinted cheeks which stood out against his thin crop of blond hair.

"Sir, I believe it to be best for the Republic. For her defense, sir."

"An all-out war, eh?" Valerius Publicola replied mockingly. "No warning, no planning, no care...Just wanted to shoot some Austrians?"

"Sir..."

"Out with it then!" The Major's sudden sharpness startled Ninnius Adauctus. "Who put this foolish plan together? It couldn't have been you."

"Yes, sir. I did."

"What? Did what, Lieutenant?"

"Planned it, sir."

Valerius Publicola wanted to laugh, and managed to smile, yet he couldn't bring himself to do so. "I'm giving you one chance, Lieutenant. One fucking chance."

"But I did, Sir. There were..."

Major Valerius Publicola swiveled on this heel and headed straight for the door. Without losing a step he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. Several moments passed before two armed guards came and escorted Lieutenant Ninnius Adauctus out of the room and across the base to solitary confinement.

...

Collis Quirinalis, Greater Metropolitan Area of Ariminae, Porcu

Despite their names, the oldest areas of the Porcuian capital were not hills in the slightest. Most were simply a carryover from the original Roman stock which had come to call Porcu their home. The Collis Quirinalis was an ancient district of the capital area and was a prominent place for the display of art and architecture, yet it was not an area adjacent to the heavily trafficked Forum, which provided tourist and local alike a reprieve from the chaos of the government centre.

Which was fortunate for Spurius Tricostus Caeliomontanus. Having done so well on much of his speaking tour, the far-right parliamentarian had been welcomed back to Ariminae with well-aimed eggs, over-ripe produce, and maggoted fish. The experience had shocked him. So much so that he had not left his apartment in two days, only having wandered out today on the insistence of his wife. They sat together in a small restaurant off one of the busier streets, having already finished their meals and the after-meal coffee. They alternated between short, innocent conversations and silence. This came as a great relaxant for Tricostus Caeliomontanus, who came to appreciate again just how delicate his wife could be with him.

Suddenly, his phone rang and though he did not wish to answer it, the temptation, bolstered by his improving mood, provided too great.

"Yes? Hello?"

"Domine, I am sorry for interrupting you."

"Think nothing of it, Lucius Meridius. Tell me."

"I wanted to forward you a piece of information I came across earlier today. I wanted to verify it as best as I could before informing you."

"Yes?"

"There appears to have been some commotion at Castra Aeolus within the past week. Rumors are that some of the men are growing tired of the inactivity. I've overheard accounts of a lieutenant being arrested for attempting to incite the men to overpower the base commanders and to engage the Austrians."

Tricostus Caeliomontanus sat up in his chair, drawing the attention of his wife. He held out his hand and massaged her hand and gave her a reassuring glance.

"What else do you know?"

"That's where the story ends, domine. The last piece of information is about a certain Major Valerius Publicola who took the lead in crushing the planned uprising, yet who, curiously, also dropped all charges against the lieutenant."

"The lieutenant is still being held?"

"Yes, domine. That decision was made by the base commander, Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona. The Major, however, is the base's tribunal."

"Interesting...Thank you very much, Lucius Meridius."

"My pleasure, domine."

At the last moment, just before the other line hung up, Tricostus Caeliomontanus called out. "Would you care to do a favor for me, Lucius Meridius?"

"Absolutely, domine."

...

The Presidential Residence in the Forum, Ariminae

President Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus had only recently ended a rather detailed meeting in a conference room on the other side of the Forum and had just returned to the relative solitude provided by his official residence. He handed off the stack of papers and folders he had been holding to an assistant and strode into the lavish, gorgeous, and immaculate marbled entranceway knowing already where he wanted to go: to bed for a nap.

It was not to be, however. Instead, the President was scheduled to meet with the General Secretary of the Secretariat of the Directorate-General. The Directorate-General was the Supreme High Command of the Porcuian Armed Forces and the General Secretary was its civilian chief counterpart. The topic? Military intelligence.

Recently re-elected as junior Consul Gaius Julius Caesar continued on as General Secretary of the Secretariat of the Directorate-General. While not in any way close to the President (who was?), Julius Caesar had come to enjoy his biweekly meetings with Atratinus for reasons not entirely understood to him.

Atratinus found the junior Consul seated at his usual space, who promptly rose and bowed deeply, and bowed in return before taking his place behind a desk just across from Julius Caesar. Much of the conversation was formal, if informative. Little besides the developments in Africa were of interest, though a passing comment did grab the President's attention.

"I'm sorry, Gaius Julius. What was that?"

"There was a minor incident at Castra Aeolus involving a group of approximately 50 men, seemingly led by a certain Lieutenant, 2nd Class, Marcus Ninnius Adauctus, in which they planned on capturing the base before initiating hostilities with the Austrians outside of Harstad."

The junor Consul continued uninterrupted, but Tarquinius Atratinus was not listening. A familiar feeling developed in his mind, a cog feel into alignment with another and while both turned in perfect unison the larger mechanism - the whole - was missing.

The meeting ended just as normally as it had begun. Atratinus thanked the young Gaius Julius for his time and his effort. Salutations were exchanged before the junior Consul was escorted out of the presidential residence. Without a moment's delay, the President's assistant was at his side, informing him of the series of engagements left on his agenda. The two walked together through the fantastically decorated hallways of the palace and out into a small courtyard where the President's motorcar was ready and waiting to take him to the train station.

Having sat down next to his assistant and taking a moment to clean his glasses and adjust his suit jacket, Atratinus noticed that one of the two members of the security detail, members of the immensely prestigious Presidential Guard, was not whom he was expecting.

"Good day, gentlemen."

The two sharply dressed guards snapped to attention. "Good day, domine."

"Not that I am displeased to see you, Manius Duronius, but where is Lucius Meridius?"

"I'm afraid he's come down with the flu, domine. I was tagged to replace him until he felt ready to return."

Atratinus didn't appear to reply, certainly not verbally. He kept his gaze looking forward momentarily before looking out of the window beside him.

"Let us hope he recovers quickly."
Edited by Porcu, Mar 19 2017, 08:44 PM.
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The snow was coming in again as the man walked down the street. Having just left the the gathering, having heard enough for one night. Tucking himself tightly into his coat he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and continued on down the sidewalk. He sad excuse of a flat was not far and he didn't mind walking in the cold. His scruffy beard and somewhat disheveled appearance kept the cold and, unfortunately, the women at bay. He'd just left the hall where Tricostus Caeliomontanus had taken the small stage and spouted his thoughts of the future of politics in the Republic. While taking a deep drag on his cigarette he contemplated the idea of ultra-nationalism. It wasn't a political thought he was particularly accustomed to. After all, can one truly have more love for one's country than was necessary?

He passed by two women coming at him, traveling the opposite direction as him. He politely said hello, his Norwegian was practically flawless and the accent was getting better. The one of the right simply rolled her eyes and tugged on her friend's arm to move over more. The one of the left however smiled, which surprised him. They were undoubtedly go to the bar around the corner. Maybe I should get a drink he mused before checking his watch. Damn, the hour was waning too quickly and he had a phone call to make. The ground sizzled as he put his cigarette out on the frozen sidewalk and picked up his pace. A block later and he was back at his apartment building and soon unlocking the door to his place. He went to the bookcase and pulled out his addition of Plato's Republic, except this addition was hollow of substance...literally. He procured the cellphone from the book and hit the speed dial before sitting back in his chair.

"Hallo André, its Johan" the man stated, "how is Jørgen doing?" the voice on the other end answered, to which the man replied " a cold, that is awful. You should have some of mother's soup brought to him at once." After that particular sentence, the line went dead for a brief moment before the line was connected from the operator to another man. "Oleg?" the man on the line asked, "its Igor what do you have to report?"

"Igor the meeting was dull to say the least" Oleg replied, his natural Russian coming to him far less easily than it use to a year or so before. "The ultra-nationalist are just as we thought they were, no wonder they didn't win a seat."

"Eh don't cut them too short Oleg but enough about that, what about the border?"

"It remains as it always has been since you guys exiled me here" Oleg replied. "Both sides are just waiting for an excuse to open fire but neither side is ready to be the first one to make war. If you ask me this is a bigger poweder keg than the Balkans for the early 1900s. One match....and.....booom."

The two men continued to talk about the political atmosphere of Narvik and the border between the Austrians and the Porcu. Russia had grown interested in the situation almost the moment it became a situation. Saint Petersburg wasn't necessarily worried about a war between Austria and Porcu, at least not at the beginning. If the two powers wanted to knock one another around and bring each other's economies down a peg, Russia was more than happy to grab the popcorn and watch the fireworks. After all their loss could certainly become Russia gain so long as it remain an innocent bystander and concerned neighbor. Hell there were even a few politicians in the capital that had quietly entertained the idea, among their close friends, of Russia selling supplies to both sides just to ensure a good war. However, in recent months, such ideas had faded as Russia had grown more..comfortable...with the Austrians and more so, after Porcu made a flex of their muscle. That being said, it didn't mean that Russia had cut off the Porcu either. There had always been a love-hate relationship between the Empire and the Republic. The Empire thrive on the longevity of its aristocracy and the Republic, made sure to always make it a clear point to flaunt its democratic prowess. Still while the two were far from political allies, their interests in Europe did align more than once and their economies did benefit from a rather healthy trade relationship, though that particular relationship was not always made publicly clear.

"Well just keep your ears up Oleg" Igor stated. "You're the closest agent we have the action and if something happens, you better bet your ass I better hear from you an hour before it happens."

"But of course my brother, you will hear from me at our next check in." Oleg stated and after their salutations, he hung up the phone. He checked his watched...that bar was only a block away.....
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Stahl Defensive Line, Austrian-Porcuian Border, Norway...

Whiteness. Sheer, unadulterated whiteness.

The Austrian soldier could see nothing other than the endless, whirling storm of snow. As he looked through his binoculars, wisps of icy cool wind and wet snow slid through the slit in his unheated bunker and brushed his exposed face unapologetically. Stationed in the frozen wastes of northern Norway for over a year now, the young soldier was a veteran of guard duty, yet he still shivered uncontrollably whenever a snow storm rolled in. Mother nature seemed adamant about teaching the Austrian garrison that Norway could be just as cold as their native Alps.

"See anything, sir?" an adjacent soldier inquired through sporadic drags from his cigarette.

"Not a thing," The officer replied, "If the Porcuians attacked us, they'd catch us with our cock in the dirt."

"In the snow, you mean?" the soldier managed a smile before a shiver rocked his body. The officer smiled, but resumed his ever vigilant watch.

The snow was pilling up quicker and quicker these days and the Austrian garrison had been hard at work to keep it at manageable levels. Most recently the Austrian soldiers sent out to clear the days snowfall had gotten lost in the ever-enveloping whiteout, and it had taken several hours to locate them. God, what the fuck are we doing in this tundra? the Officer thought as he stared at the sea of white.

The Austrians had not taken the seizure of the Loki Platforms lying down. While he had responded short of open war, the Archduke had demanded that Austria send the Porcuians a message that it was here to stay. In the subsequent days after the infamous maneuver, the Austrians had spent hundreds of millions of reichsmarks on the construction of fortifications all around the city of Harstad and along the recently established Stahl Defensive Line. Made up of over 20 miles of barbed wire, electric fencing, concrete bunkers, pillboxes and anti-air defenses, the Austrians had planned for Harstad to withstand a full conventional military assault. Whether or not such an assault would come to be would be dependent on the Porcuains as far as the Austrians were concerned; the Archduke was explicit in maintaining peace until his empire was prepared to take on the Republic.

While the Austrian government and military elite were waiting in suspense, the average Austrian servicemen were clamoring for any excuse to attack the Porcuians across the white no man's land. An arsenal equipped with everything from main battle tanks to fixed missile emplacements gave the Austrian garrison all the necessary means of severely hampering the Porcuian naval and trade capabilities in Narvik, Loki, or even Porcu Proper. For the Austrian men stationed in the freezing bunker, the possibility of one of the missile stations to "malfunction" was a tempting possibility.

"I don't see why we don't attack them now?" The soldier said seriously. "We can knock out their entire fleet in Narvik with our cruise missiles."

"And then what?" The officer replied chastising his underling. "Face a siege? You're a fool if you think Vienna has any desire to keep us supplied in a war. This post is a death sentence. Face it, were just a step away from those poor bastards still trapped in Loki."

The other soldier couldn't respond. As hard as he wanted to believe Norway was a vital location, he was nonetheless forced to recognize the fact that Harstad and its garrison was only meant to do damage to Porcu Proper in the event of conflict. It was practically unsalvageable; a big demolition charge to be detonated when war broke out.

We'll make the bastards pay for every inch, the Officer thought.
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The austere cold of the northern Norwegian winter was something that took some getting used to. Having grown up on a small farm in the far north of Greater Cape, the tall Afrikaner had nothing but disdain for the bitter winters in Narvik. As the snow was falling around him and the wind began to chill him to the bone, he couldn't help but remember his childhood years on the farm outside of Kimberley. The sun beat down on his skin, almost burning him, as he would help his parents by tending to the sheep and tilling the soil on the small patch of land just beyond the tall eucalyptus tree. He could almost feel it...the burning of the sun on his skin. It took him a second to remember where he was and that, unfortunately, it wasn't the sun burning his skin but the frigid wind. He was wearing a thick blue parka with the furred hood over his head and black trousers, under which were two layers of thermal pants. His gloved hands were in his pockets and a thick, locally-woven scarf was tightly wrapped around his neck. His short, brownish blond moustache and beard covered the lower half of his face but from his nose to his forehead, his skin was exposed to the elements. "God, ek haat die koue [God, I hate the cold]," he muttered to himself in Afrikaans.

His presence in the far north of Porcu was something of a surprise, even for himself. Being a Capetonian, there was little motivation to travel to the northernmost expanse of Europe during the cold of winter, especially when the winter wasn't even at its worst. Even so, he had been preparing for this mission for months. He had been handpicked from the Capetonian Air Force; he was physically fit, intelligent and quick-witted, and possessed a charisma that quickly turned even the most antagonistic of people to like him. He was a rugged outdoorsy type, an Afrikaner through and through. In fact, it was because he grew up speaking Afrikaans that he was able to learn other languages so quickly - particularly Germanic languages like Norwegian. His Afrikaner accent actually gave him that unique Norwegian garble that made him indistinguishable from ethnic Norwegians. He was chosen as the first agent to serve his country outside its borders.

International intelligence was something of a new concept in Greater Cape. Ever since the country's founding, the Capetonian government had focused on the development of domestic matters while maintaining a vigilant diplomatic policy abroad. It wasn't until Greater Cape had begun to develop relations with the Porcuians that the need for an intelligence unit had become important. Greater Cape had invested a great deal of time, energy, and diplomatic manpower to establish a positive relationship with the Republic of Porcu; however, the Austrian Empire was a formidable power in European politics and presented an interesting challenge to Greater Cape. The delicate balance of tension between Porcu and Austria, especially in the northern territory of Narvik, posed fertile grounds for studying these two great European powers.

He had just finished monitoring the speech given by Tricostus Caeliomontanus. The crowd of Norwegians appeared to be incensed by Caeliomontanus' words of voracious nationalism, a concept that was admittedly new to him. Greater Cape was only a year old; his family's farm had only recently been incorporated into the land now known as Greater Cape and, although he did love his country and what it had come to be, he found Caeliomontanus' brand of nationalism off-putting. In spite of how uneasy the Porcuian politician had made him feel, he was here to do his job. Walking back to his small apartment in the centre of Narvik, he replayed the speech over and over in his head, eager to sit down and transcribe his fieldnotes. As of yet, he was simply given the task of monitoring the geopolitical situation in Narvik lest tensions arise.

He had arrived to his building and stepped inside the hallway to his humble apartment. His government didn't have much in the way of money to provide him but what he had was enough. He took off his shin-high snow boots and his parka. He decided to keep the scarf on as he placed his gloves atop the small cabinet next to his coatrack. After placing some water in the kettle for tea, he sat down before his work desk and opened his laptop. He perused the Cape Town Times until he heard the electric kettle switch off; he made some tea, grabbed a piece of biltong he had squirrelled away, and began recounting the events that had transpired at the rally. Mid paragraph, he looked up from his computer and saw that the snow was falling heavier now; soon, he'd head down to help his landlady shovel the steps. Before he put his winter clothes back on, he decided to send an encrypted email to his superior in Cape Town. "Agent Pilanga, it's Hendrik..."
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

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Seated just below the Speaker, President Atratinus had a very good view of the entire parliamentary chamber. Seated just below him were the members of the Consilium. Atratinus groaned to himself, his face revealing nothing, as the next parliamentarian was recognized by the Speaker.

"Thank you, Madam Speaker." Tricostus Caeliomontanus began. His voice showed a wildness and an intensity.

Atratinus had always enjoyed Question Time, though he wondered what the experience was like for someone opposite him. The middle aged gentleman had risen to prominence rather quickly considering his previous tenures, and had not yet actually experienced the feeling of directing a question from the seat of a parliamentarian. The President's remarks always made the nightly news, often for their clarity in dissecting and neutralizing the verbal thrust of a questioner, but also because there were few as gifted as he. While one fought and bled in the Porcuian arena, a cogent victory could be seized in the hour-long window of opportunity that presented itself once a week. The average Porcuian, because of their partial education of the rigors of debate, appreciated the challenge that Question Time presented and came to fawn over its most brilliant exemplars.

"Praesidis Tarquinius Atratinus, I feel it is my duty to remind this august body of the grave threat that lies to our north! Just today the people of our fair Republic were confronted with the news that the Austrians occupying Harstad have completed defensive fortifications which will serve to prolong their illegal and brutal occupation to the north of the Overseas Province of Narvik. Can we expect nothing to be done about this? Should the people expect this administration, this Parliament, to do nothing to protect them, their children, and their Republic?

"What we have here is the abdication of responsibility by the President and the members of the Consilium, which, as an aside, does not justly reflect the will of the people of Porcu! It is high time that this administration..."

The Speaker of Parliament, a grizzly woman of legendary status within the political class, interrupted the party leader. "The Honorable Gentleman will shorten his remarks and forward a question to the President or member of the Consilium."

"Madam Speaker, it is crucial that I am allowed to properly establish all pertinent information."

"Tricostus Caeliomontanus, the thrust of your question has been established. Please refrain from additional comments and present a question."

"With all due respect, Madam Speaker..."

"This is your last opportunity, Tricostus Caeliomontanus, or else you shall lose your speaking privileges." A stern response.

"I will proceed to my question once I am allowed to properly establish the relevant facts. No member of this august body should have to tolerate the whims of its..."

The Speaker stood from her seat and stared directly at the ultra-conservative leader. Whereas members of the Consilium lowered their heads out of an almost instinctual reflex of embarassment, Atratinus too looked directly at Tricostus Caeliomontanus.

"The Honorable Gentleman is no longer recognized. Furthermore, the Praetorian Guard will remove the Honorable Gentleman from the chamber for the duration of the current proceedings."

Without a moment's delay, four members of the Praetorian Guard - an elite military group tasked with the protection of Parliament and the Forum - stepped out from their usual places and proceeded to escort Tricostus Caeliomontanus out of the parliamentary chamber. As he was being guided to the exit, President Atratinus turned and looked over his shoulder at the Speaker, nodding slightly. She acknowledged him and waited for the doors to close behind Tricostus Caeliomontanus before giving the floor to the President.

"Many thanks, Madam Speaker." Atratinus said as he stood. His calm demeanor and soft voice were able to temper the atmosphere. "The Honorable Gentleman misconstrued a number of related issues, while grossly misrepresenting the position of this administration with regard to the Austrian Empire and the present situation of the Loki platforms. To begin, it is absolutely not true that..."

A figure seated to the right of those at the front of the chamber stood suddenly and held his right arm high, his hand held in a fist. "Coward! Coward!"

Soon several other neighboring parliamentarians stood as well and joined in chanting, "Coward!"

As the Speaker stood and shouted and brought her blood to a boil, the entire assembly of parliamentarians of The National Defense For The Defense Of The Republic stood and shouted back in unison. Their chant became more colorful and members actively resisted the few Praetorian Guards who tried to drag them from their spots.

"Cowards! Fools! Fascists!"

"Fascists?" Atratinus thought to him with an appreciable sense of irony that made him crack a smile.

...

Narvik, Norge Septentriones

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The usually crowded cafè was presently quiet and relatively still. Presently.

Having arrived in Narvik much earlier that day, Lucius Meridius Agapa had not taken long to find the small, picturesque cafè that sat near the city centre and to find himself a spot from which he had moved only to relieve himself in the facilities. The cafè had been busting, nearly nonstop, for much of the day and the traffic had only recently died down.

Which made identifying the man he was to meet all the easier.

Eventually, a man walked into the cafè, taking a minute near the entrance to stomp his feet and to clear his coat of the hardened snow that chipped off in flakes. The cafè was very well heated and, with fewer patrons, now provided the quaint atmosphere it seemed it had been initially designed for. A elderly couple stood at the counter on one end, while a school-aged boy sat a small table opposite them reading. Meridius Agapa remained as he had for several hours, in a spot adjacent to the windows, his back facing the wall. The man, cleared of the snow that had covered him, met Meridius Agapa's gaze and took several steps over to him before placing his coat on the chair and sitting.

"Major Augustus Valerius Publicola."

"That is correct. You are Meridius Agapa, I presume?"

"Correct as well."

The two men did not shake nor exchange bows.

"This is my one day of the week in which I may leave the base. You said it was urgent." Valerius Publicola said, quieting once a waitress came to the table. The two men once again locked eyes when their straightforward orders were taken.

"The defense of the Republic is of the utmost urgency, Major."

"How'd you manage to contact me directly? What do you want?"

"I work for a powerful individual whose philosophy aligns tightly with yours." Meridius Agapa said, his tone underlining the cryptic nature of his words.

"Who?" Valerius Publicola replied confused. "His ideology aligns with mine?"

"Not just yours, but also with Lieutenant Marcus Ninnius Adauctus and the other members of the planned mutiny."

The Major's eyes narrowed. He slowly sat back in his chair and snapped out of his gaze only when his coffee was brought to him by the waitress. Pulling out the small purse of change he carried with him, Valerius Publicola paid the tab and waited for the waitress to return behind the counter, away from earshot.

"We know you share the feelings of Lieutenant Ninnius Adauctus. We know that you too believe that the Austrians are planning and waiting, waiting for the perfect moment in which to strike at Narvik and take back the Loki platforms."

"We?"

"We are interesting in establishing a relationship. We want to trust you and for you to trust us. The defense of the Republic relies on men like us, for without us there is chaos and suffering and disgrace."

"I'm sorry, but I really don't follow."

"Do you disagree with what I've said?" Meridius Agapa asked.

"No..."

"Then?"

"The Republic is well defended. I agree that the Austrians should be removed from Norway, but I don't believe they want a fight."

"Not now..." Meridius Agapa replied, draining his espresso. "Certainly, the Austrians are a clever race, but you overestimate the resolve of our own leadership and the willingness and resolve men like Atratinus, Sulla, Caesar, Pansa, Cesca, and the like have in actually defending the Republic from her enemies. They will not grab a rifle and fight once the Austrians decide to strike. No, they will wait and provide all the time necessary for the Austrians. Their inaction and cowardliness will be the catalyst for a war which will see the Republic at a disadvantage."

"And you're proposing?"

"That we strike first and eliminate the Austrians while there is still time."

Valerius Publicola shook his head in disbelief. As a member of the military, he could appreciate the necessity of providing the proper training and equipment to the brave men and women of the Armed Forces, and as the latest member of a family with deep historical roots in the military he understood the resentment and disdain many others unaffiliated with the military had towards people like him. That the Austrians were imperialists, whose lust for blood, territory, and enslavement knew no bounds, was unquestionable, yet...

The two sat in silence for several minutes as the Major finished off his drink. One last gaze across the small table was all Valerius Publicola provided as a final reply. In one swift motion he grabbed his coat off the chair and began walking toward the door. He exited into a heavy snowfall without looking over his shoulder at the imposing figure still seated near a window on the far side of the cafè.

...

The hour was quite late by the time Major Valerius Publicola returned to Castra Aeolus. The snowfall had changed only in its pattern, not its magnitude. The maintenance crews of the military base were constantly plowing the roads and doing their best to keep the ice at bay. After checking in with his staff, Valerius Publicola made his way to his private cabin and proceeded to conclude his evening when he received an urgent call from a member of his staff.

The Major found a flurry of activity when he arrived back over to his staff office. Breathing somewhat heavily after having run, Valerius Publicola did not have the time to ask what was amiss when he was handed a single sheet of paper. His eyes widened and he immediately exited the office and sprinted the length of the building before exiting back out into the cold, dark night. A staff member who had followed him quickly got a car started and, with the Major aboard, raced towards the central command center.

Valerius Publicola arrived to find the main room packed with all sorts of people. In the middle of it all was the base's commanding officer, Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona. Juggling several people almost talking in unison, the Colonel did not notice the Major at first.

"Sir, what's going on?" Valerius Publicola asked loudly enough that he might be heard.

Colonel Octavius Dona turned around sharply and beamed once he saw the Major. His expression quickly soured. "We've got a mess on our hands."

Satellite imagery, while technically available, was absolutely useless due to the snowstorm. Still, it did not take long for Valerius Publicola to figure out what was going on.

To the northeast, on the edge of a major forest to the interior, a reconnaissance team of Porcuian soldiers had wandered too close to the Austrian defensive lines. Having set out earlier that night, the team had been tasked with detailing the depth and detail of the Austrian defenses to the interior, away from the coast. The heavy snowfall had hampered their efforts initially, but only now had become so severe as to cause them to lose their bearing. A series of anti-personnel mines had been triggered, resulting in the death of three soldiers, before the Austrians manning that portion of their defenses had awoken to the Porcuian's presence. Now, the reconnaissance team was under heavy fire and could not dislocate themselves.

Turning to a nearby officer, Valerius Publicola asked for the casualty count.

"Seven so far, sir. Three from the mines and another four from the fire they've been taking." the officer replied matter-of-factly.

Valerius Publicola turned back to the Colonel.

"Sir, what's our plan?"

The Colonel looked at the Major with an expression of sadness. "To hold our own positions and to hope for the best."

"What?!"

"It's too risky to send in anyone to try and get them out. They're far too close to the Austrian line."

"We can't just sit here and listen to them die!"

"I'm not putting more lives in harm's way, Valerius Publicola."

"We have to do something, sir. Give them some cover fire, just enough to let them move back south."

"And risk setting off the Austrian guns that are pointed right at us? Those men knew what they were signing up for. It doesn't please me either, and I pray that they somehow manage to get out of there."

"This is unbelievable..."

Major Valerius Publicola paced for a couple of minutes before he stopped suddenly and motioned for a telephone. After a moment, he was able to establish a secure connection with the next level in the command chain. A staff member watched the Major over the next couple of minutes as his expression changed from optimistic to aghast, then from anger to infuriated, and finally from a paralyzing fury to total dejection.

Major Valerius Publicola set down the receiver, turned back toward the wall of screens on the opposite end of the large command room, and watched as the members of the reconnaissance team died either at the hands of the Austrians or by a combination of blood loss and frigid temperatures. His thoughts returned to the conversation he had earlier while in Narvik.

"He's right...They're right..."
Edited by Porcu, Oct 12 2015, 09:53 PM.
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Whal
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
"Fire! Keep those bastards pinned!"

"Jawohl!"

Deep in the frozen wastes of the Norwegian hinterlands and in the restricted zone of the Stahl Defensive Line, two Austrian heavy machine guns were peppering a Porcuian reconnaissance patrol from the safety of their pillboxes. The once quiet snow-covered field surrounding the Austrian military's border with the Republic of Porcu was now the scene of a chaotic and frenzied firefight. Sadly, a firefight would be too generous to the Porcuian soldiers pinned under the wall of machine gun fire. For reasons perplexing to the Austrians, the patrol clutched to any form of cover they could find and had yet to return fire or call for artillery or air support.

The Austrians had built the Stahl Defensive Line with the intent to withstand a full-fledged Porcuian assault and everything such an attack would encompass. None of the men who occupied the pillboxes, bunkers, and trenches ever doubted an attack would come, but they had never expected it to be so small or during a snowstorm of all times. No matter their reservations or beliefs, and for all intents and purposes, the Austrian's were under attack. For why would the Porcuians have entered an Austrian minefield unannounced and without alerting the Austrian Embassy in Ariminae or the Reichswehr's Military Intelligence Office in Harstad as they had on previous excursions close to Austrian lines? In truth, it was the unfortunate mistake of a Porcuian navigator that had placed both countries in such a tenuous situation.

The Austrian gunners had their machine-guns constantly fixed on the cornered patrol. One would fire whilst the other reloaded thus giving the impression of a constant wall of fire. As the average infantry man fired frantically into the swirling storm, their officers tried desperately to radio their command in Harstad for further orders or a confirmation of further aggression. They received no reply.

"Oberkommando Harstad! Come in, over!" A young Major screamed frantically into his radio over the gunfire. "Contact has been made with a suspected Porcuian patrol inside the restricted area, over. Please advise, over."

The Major heard only static, the deafening chatter of gunfire, and the bitter cold northern winds.

"Herr Hauptman! a frenzied soldier yelled, midst the gunfire. "Should we call mortar fire down on them?''

Major Friedhelm Strache called into his radio one last time and received only more static. A fifteen year career officer in the Reichswehr, a veteran of the wars in Slovenia and Hungary, and now an ardent nationalist, Strache was de facto acting commander on scene. His nearest superior and fellow officer was approximately twelve miles east of their location at the main garrison along the defensive line. Sending a runner would take hours and the snowstorm prevented safe air or vehicular travel from reaching help. The major had a difficult decision to make: 1) continue the killing of Porcuian soldiers or 2) halt fire and wait for clarification from his superiors or contact from the Porcuians.

"Herr Hauptman! What do we do?"

Strache began noticing every small detail of the engagement. The lack of return fire from the Porcuians, the calm of the surrounding area, the reserves and supplies of his garrison, and the ramifications of a continued firefight. He immediately called out to the machine gunners.

"Cease fire! Cease fire goddammit!" He yelled, accompanied by a wave of his hand.

A fellow officer dropped his jaw, "Are you mad? We should shred them to pieces before they call an airstrike on us!"

"An airstrike!? Do you see this storm? I can't even reach command! CEASE FIRE!" Strache yelled finally. "Get a patrol out there and grab those men now!"

The Austrian soldiers fearfully removed their fingers from the triggers. As the gunfire faded again into only the sound of the wind, the Austrians looked on sheepishly and curiously over their trenches and from inside their bunkers. For the Porcuians still lying out in the snow bleeding and clutching the ground, the cease of the guns must have seemed a miracle. Yet, any belief for a miracle came crashing down as the bleeding and cowering men were approached almost instantly by four Austrian snow-mobiles.

"Hände hoch!" the Austrian soldiers yelled muffled through their masks. Their light machine guns and other small arms pointed in the direction of the prone survivors.

"You fuckers!" a young Porcuian soldier cried clutching the wound of a close friend who had been hit in the gut.

"Stay put!" an Austrian soldier commanded, motioning to shoot the boy. The Austrians quickly began speaking to one another in German - a language none of the Porcuains present could understand. Similarly, the Porcuian's Greek sounded foreign and alarming to the Austrians as well.

"What should we do with them?"

"I say shoot them here."

"They're wounded, we should call the medic."

"Fuck that," one Austrian soldier said dismissively. "Lets just grab them and go."

He swung his weapon around his shoulder and casually moved over to a wounded Porcuian soldier and tugged at his vest; proceeding to drag him along towards the snowmobile. As he was pulled away, the Porcuian protested and called out to his comrades.
Edited by Whal, Oct 15 2015, 02:15 PM.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

Not far from where the squad leader sat lay the quickly cooling bodies of four comrades. Four strong, courageous comrades.

"Stop!" the Porcuian yelled in English. It was enough to catch the attention of the Austrians who had begun carrying off one of the soldiers who was still alive but fading. "Medic...We need medic..."

"Medic?" a disgruntled Porcuian muttered underneath his breath in Latin. "They've been trying to slaughter us."

"Hush..." the Porcuian squad leader replied.

The wind of the storm whipped up even stronger for a few seconds, forcing all to shield themselves from the ice and the snow. The moment came once the wind died down enough.

"Go fuck yourselves!"

...

Castra Aeolus

Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona stood directly across from the large main screen in the war room. His demeanor was not one of a commander who had just seen a whole reconnaissance squad eliminated. To Major Valerius Publicola the commander seemed to have accepted the death of his men rather too quickly. Looking at him now, a fire and anger swelled in the Major's belly.

"Contact the Austrians. Request clearance so that we are able to collect the bodies. I want them back before sunrise."

"Yes, sir." came the uniform reply from those working in the darkened war room.

Valerius Publicola was rooted in place, his gaze still locked on his commanding officer. He didn't know if he'd be able to move even if he tried. A rush of thoughts greeted him as he watched the Colonel dismiss much of the staff and walk out.

...

Narvik, Norge Septentriones

Truthfully, she had done the best she could to turn her desolate apartment into a respectable living quarters. Nonetheless, there was much to be desired.

The wallpaper along the far left had been peeling for sometime and was an eyesore, while the wooden floorboards were slightly warped due to general humidity and their collective age. Additionally, the floor heating unit was in desperate need of replacement, as it warmed only two thirds of the apartment and left an entire middle area much colder. It was miserable in the mornings when, in crossing the apartment to get to the kitchen for breakfast, she would snap awake from having her feet go from a warm, comfortable floor to ice and back again to warm. Several letters to her landlord had done little to expedite the maintenance work.

Still, she was pleased.

Having graduated in the top percent of her university class as an engineer, Cornelia Paulina Attianus was soon targeted by the State and quickly signed on for work with the Directorate-General, specifically the Navy. After a couple of year of consultative work and research she was approached to join the SSR, the elite intelligence agency of the Republic and military surveillance group overseen by the Navy.

Now, Paulina Attianus was not impressive physically: she could not run 20 kilometers, she had no prior experience with a firearm, nor could she lift twice her bodyweight. However, she was fantastically resourceful. The ranks of the SSR suffered for qualified women and Paulina Attianus' superiors placed great esteem on her talents and ability. That, and she was Nordic.

"And now I'm here..." she thought to herself as she jogged her memory regarding her introduction into the "spy world".

Her day at the offices of the main evening journal for the metropolis of Narvik had been particularly exhausting. Not out of any physical exertion, but rather the many numbing, tedious meetings her bosses on the editorial staff subjected her (and the others) to. She had been begun her work as a journalist only one month before, covering special stories related to science and technology, but had quickly come to the conclusion that journalists were easily the most gullible, utterly stupid, and morally bankrupt species of "professional" workers that existed. Only by working for a major journalistic outlet had she decided on never reading another newspaper again.

Suddenly, there was a heavy thud. Paulina Attianus first looked up and upon realizing the likely source of the noise dropped her head. There was a prolonged yell and then another loud thud followed by a short yelp.

Paulina Attianus still had not gotten used to the noises that occasionally emanated from the apartment directly above. She shuddered and rebuked herself for attempting to, again, forget about it. She finally made up her mind to confront her neighbor, but unlike previous times an additional yell pushed her over the edge, providing the drive she needed. Certainly, she was nervous of having to confront who was likely a heavily inebriated man, but she was morally in the right.

She grabbed her keys and left her apartment, taking the stairs just outside her door up one floor. She already knew which apartment to approach, apart from its position right above her own, the yells could now be clearly heard beyond the door. Paulina Attianus stepped up but did not knock. She stood there for several seconds before shaking her head, bringing her mind out of her sea of thoughts, and knocking on the door.

A stark quiet replaced the horrible noises from inside the apartment, yet there was no reply even after several moments. Paulina Attianus knocked again, stronger this time. Again nothing. However, when she was about to knock a third time she could hear the sound of the door being unlocked. A grizzled middle-aged man peered out from behind the gap. The man kept the door just barely ajar and hid his face.

"May I help you?" the man asked slowly. The alcohol on his breath was suffocating.

"Hello, I'm from apartment 5D. I heard some noises coming from this apartment and just..."

"Well, I certainly apologize for the noise, Miss." the man replied, cutting off Paulina Attianus. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

The man motioned to close the door, but Paulina Attianus shifted her weight and pressed against the door to keep it open. The man's eyes widened and he stepped forward slightly. While he himself was only of average height, he was still taller and stronger looking compared to Paulina Attianus.

"I'm sorry to be so forward, but I'm rather concerned about what's going on here."

"What do you mean?" the man said. His eyes narrowed and his posture changed, becoming defensive.

"I'd just like to speak with someone else that's here. Please? It would really put me at ease to speak with someone."

"No, no." the man said with a definite aggressiveness.

"Please?"

"No; now that's enough." the man said, again trying to close the door but being blocked by Paulina Attianus.

"I said...!" the man yelled, stepping out from behind the door and moving towards Paulina Attianus.

"Hold it!" a strong voice called out from near the end of the hall.

Both the man and Paulina Attianus turned to find a gentleman approaching quickly. His voice carried a strength that stopped the man in his tracks.


OOC: GC or NRE, either of you can take it from here. I didn't specify which of your characters it was, as a friendly thing. Whoever posts first can finish it off. ^^
General apologies as well for not posting more regularly. Classes are tough, but I'm trying to find time to write here. It's definitely an enjoyable way for me to relax and take my mind off studies. Additionally, I apologize on the lack of quality of these posts. Hopefully, getting back into a rhythm will help my writing and make it really exciting again.

Hope all you guys are doing well.
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Whal
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
"Go fuck yourselves?" the Austrian who was carrying the wounded Porcuian muttered in a barely unintelligible mockery of the Porcuian language.

"Look at these pompous bastards," another Austrian chuckled brandishing his rifle and pointing it at the downtrodden "enemy" soldiers. "We chew them up and still they act defiantly."

Another gust of freezing Nordic wind brushed by the group forcing them yet again to take a reprieve from the standoff to shelter themselves. As the wind died down again, the Austrians resumed their almost schoolyard fancy with taunting the Porcuians. Eventually, the Porcuian seemingly in charge made another request for medical attention in heavily accented English.

"Medic?" the Austrian squad leader repeated attempting to make sense of the word. "Oh ja, Mediziner! We...take..you all to camp! Get up!" he uttered in his best attempt at English. The Porcuians looked at another and over at the Austrian trenches where they were to be led. Many cursed and swore to one another or gave the Austrians glances of pure hatred or at least an obvious distrust. Yet their condition was dire and many of them needed medical attention.

The Austrians kept their distance as the Porcuian team struggled to pick one another up and hobble guardedly in the watchful eyes of their captors. Despite much reluctance, the Austrian soldiers gave into the demand of the Porcuians to take along their dead. Strapped along the sides and backs of the snowmobiles, they were already starting to freeze solid.

"We have doctor at camp," the squad leader repeated again. "You come mit us." The walk to the Austrian lines was only a few meters away.

----

OKR District HQ, Harstad

General Konrad Pillichschammer, commander of the 2nd Austrian Expeditionary Force, sat calmly in his office enjoying the perks of a man with his commission. A hot cup of coffee was a god-send to any soldier and even the Austrian general could sympathize with his poor boys stuck in the frozen reaches of the Stahl Line south of the occupied city.

"They must be freezing," he muttered to himself as he took a sip. He was in the process of picking up the phone to order a round of schnaps for his men when an aide busted through the door without knocking - an unforgivable mistake in the traditional and rigorous military world of the Reichswehr. The General's face puckered in aggravation and prepared himself for the disciplinary shitstorm he was about to unleash on the careless underling when he noticed the look of terror on the man's face.

Without thinking Pillichshammer knew exactly what the matter was.

"How many dead?" he asked sternly standing up from his chair.

"Seven, Herr Commandant," the aide squeaked out in an uneasy tone. "We just received the news from a courier."

The general immediately picked up his phone and began the procedure of alerting the cities garrison. He nearly put them on full combat alert before the aid approached his desk and informed him of the rest of the situation.

"Herr Commandant, sir. The Porcuians have lost seven men, but we believe many more may be in danger of expiring without medical attention."

"Porcuian casualties?" Pillichshammer looked bewildered, keeping the phone on hand. "Are you telling me we have taken no casualties?"

"Yes sir, it appears to be an accident on their part. A reconnaissance patrol gone awry perhaps or maybe a probe in our defenses. All we know is that no other station has reported any contact and all our patrols indicate that no Porcuian forces have been mobilized for combat against us."

The General shook his head, "Inconceivable," he stated in shock. "Well, don't just stand there! Get me a line to Vienna and to the Porcuians at once! Also, get those men some fucking medical attention. We WILL not go to war over this!" The aide saluted and left the room in a dash. It wasn't two seconds later that a new aid came running into the room brandishing a satellite phone.

"Herr Commandant sir, its the Porcuians," he said somberly holding out the phone.

The General took the phone and dismissed the man from his office. He took a deep breath before speaking slowly in English.

"Hello? This is General Konrad Pillichshammer, Commander of the 2nd Austrian Expeditionary Force of the Reichswehr. To whom am I speaking?"
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman

Oleg had come back from shopping at the corner store when he heard the commotion from the stairwell. He lived a few more floors up but on occasion when passing this particular floor he'd heard the same particular sounds which had prompted Paulina to investigate. Sitting his bag down and rounding the corner into the hallway he let out a forceful command which got the rather burly man's attention. Oleg had seen him before, he was a frequent patron of the bar across the street and Oleg had noticed him quite a few times in fact. IN particular he'd noticed his affinity for the "easy" women who also liked the bar and had also notice his ability to get rough with them.

"What seems to be the issue here" Oleg stated has he positioned himself between the man and Paulina.

"This woman needs to learn her boundaries" said the man. "This is my place and I let in who I please."

Oleg turned to Paulina. "All I asked was to talk to the other person in the room"

Oleg turned back to the man "What's wrong Alvar" Oleg stated, the man a bit surprised Oleg knew his name. In truth from his causal observations, Oleg knew probably more about Alvar that he knew about himself but that, at this present moment, was beside the point. "What's wrong Alvar, afraid you'll unset your chances of asking her for drinks once she sees the pigpen you live in?"

______________________________________________________________________________________________

While the action unfolded in the apartment building, a few blocks down the street in a small cafè a young Arabic woman sat and enjoyed her hot coco. Her feet were killing her and it seemed as if she'd been walking all day. In truth she probably had been walking all but as it was apart of the job, she had little choice. At home many felt she'd be exiled when she got this particular assignment, given many of the others were going to tropic and well...warmer locations. However, despite how exotic a photographer for a calendar publisher was it wasn't entirely how they'd originally sold it to her. Despite the walking though, she got good pictures and she did always love taking pictures. There was something fascinating to her about a picture, capturing life and freezing it almost eternally. Looking through her pictures on her camera she almost did her the small pings from her phone.

Picking up the phone she saw it was a message she was receiving over a social media site she had a profile on. It was a friend who just wanted to say "Hi Tabana" from back home and after the usual pleasantries the two began discussing a mutual friend that they both shared. "Pasha went out with the boys last night but they ran into Aalam and you know how they get. Aalam is still angry with Pasha for taking Labiba away from him if you ask me...." The friend continued to discuss the mutual acquaintances and after a few minutes of back and forth discussion, Tahana's friend told her to stay safe and that she'd been in touch. Tabana look at her watch before taking the final sip of her coco. The Office of Strategic Services was relatively unknown, after all the Federation had no truly blatant enemies therefore there were no reason to engage in "spy games" so if anyone ever ran into a OSS officer then that was simply a lie. Tabana had been recruited more for her racial ambiguity than anything else. She was smart, but not overly so. She was fit, but not delicate than made of steel. If anything, her ability to be completely unassuming was her greatest asset. That and true training to be lethal with a gun or knife...that helped too.

The conversation she had just had was of course, coded. They were speaking about the situation now unfolding between the Austrians and the Porcu. Aksum had intercepted a few communications from both sides and was worried that if this situation didn't develop into war, a situation similar to it was inevitable and would. They needed to know what the atmosphere was like, were either sides bulking up their thin red line, and they needed to know if there was any way they could help without actually, directly..helping. Tabana had her work cut out for her but for now, she was pleased with the pictures she'd taken.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

Whal
 
The General shook his head, "Inconceivable," he stated in shock. "Well, don't just stand there! Get me a line to Vienna and to the Porcuians at once! Also, get those men some fucking medical attention. We WILL not go to war over this!" The aide saluted and left the room in a dash. It wasn't two seconds later that a new aid came running into the room brandishing a satellite phone.

"Herr Commandant sir, its the Porcuians," he said somberly holding out the phone.

The General took the phone and dismissed the man from his office. He took a deep breath before speaking slowly in English.

"Hello? This is General Konrad Pillichshammer, Commander of the 2nd Austrian Expeditionary Force of the Reichswehr. To whom am I speaking?


"General Pillichshammer, this is Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona, Senior Operating Commander of Camp Aeolus." the Colonel replied in better English than the Austrian was expecting.

"And what can I do for you, Colonel?"

"I am requesting clearance in order to send a truck with two men just outside your defensive lines. I hope you will return our dead, so that we may forward their bodies to their families, and that you will return the men you captured alive. The weather is increasingly frightening and precipitated this unfortunate incident."

...

NRE
 
"What seems to be the issue here" Oleg stated has he positioned himself between the man and Paulina.

"This woman needs to learn her boundaries" said the man. "This is my place and I let in who I please."

Oleg turned to Paulina. "All I asked was to talk to the other person in the room"

Oleg turned back to the man "What's wrong Alvar" Oleg stated, the man a bit surprised Oleg knew his name. In truth from his causal observations, Oleg knew probably more about Alvar that he knew about himself but that, at this present moment, was beside the point. "What's wrong Alvar, afraid you'll unset your chances of asking her for drinks once she sees the pigpen you live in?"


Alvar flushed and his mouth opened slightly, as if to answer, yet his only response was to grit his teeth and double-down.

"Both of you need to mind your own business."

Oleg took a step forward. Alvar stepped back before pausing. "This bullying is unwarranted."

Before either Paulina Attianus or Oleg could respond a whisper of a voice could just be heard from within the apartment. A thin, fragile woman suddenly appeared behind Alvar and peered out from behind him. She wore a long, cotton robe; her hands held the robe tightly in the front.

"Good evening." the woman said weakly. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Madam, may I speak to you for a moment?" Paulina Attianus asked with as sweet a voice as she could.

"Nothing...There's no problem." Alvar barked.

Oleg stared straight at Alvar, but contained himself. If things soured, however, he'd be ready.

"Why?" the frail woman asked back at Paulina Attianus. "Are you a police officer?"

"No, I'm not."

"Are you on the tenant's committee?"

"No." Paulina Attianus said, the conclusion of the conversation already forming in her mind.

"Well, there's no problem here, so good evening. We're sorry to have taken up your time. Good evening."

"There's no problem here." Alvar repeated with a sinister growl before backing up into the apartment and closing the door. The sound of multiple locks shutting followed swiftly.

In a moment of disbelief, confusion, and sadness, Paulina Attianus tried to make sense of it all. Had she done something wrong?

Oleg reached out and warmly touched her forearm. He reassured her that Alvar would eventually get what was coming to him and that his wife, that poor frail woman, would come to find the courage to denounce her husband and to rid herself of him. They had tried their best in this moment and would be ready to help in the future.

"I suppose you're right." Paulina Attianus said, her gaze wandering away from Oleg. Her short blond hair and oval face momentarily captured Oleg. It was the first time that he took notice of her deep, navy-blue eyes.

"What's your name." Oleg blurted out suddenly before adding, "Sorry, I just don't believe I caught it before."

"Paulina Attianus, Cornelia Paulina Attianus." she replied with a smile. "Yours?"

...

Narvik, Downtown, Folcus District

With the backdrop of an increasingly menacing storm a pair of vans skidded to a stop in a back alleyway, just beside a large pair of garbage bins. Four pairs of individuals, clad in black with their faces hidden, jumped out and proceeded to spread out in different directions. Within a pair, one carried a set of flyers, while the other brought with them a stack of posters. Each pair ran down the largely empty streets and alleyways in a calculated motion, stopping only to paste an occasional flyer or poster on an apartment building wall, street-side garbage bin, or light post.

Methodically, the four pairs moved through the poorest district of Narvik and saturated it with the flyers and posters they had brought with them. The groups eventually reunited at a predetermined point and, luckily, managed to get a lift out just as the worst of the storm set over the whole metropolis.

Their shady work had avoided any notice from locals, but there were some careful and intelligent people whose job it was to notice what everyone else could not. What was missing was a reason, a motive. That would come soon enough.
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Porcu
Nov 15 2015, 08:30 PM
"General Pillichshammer, this is Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona, Senior Operating Commander of Camp Aeolus." the Colonel replied in better English than the Austrian was expecting.

"And what can I do for you, Colonel?"

"I am requesting clearance in order to send a truck with two men just outside your defensive lines. I hope you will return our dead, so that we may forward their bodies to their families, and that you will return the men you captured alive. The weather is increasingly frightening and precipitated this unfortunate incident."
There was slight pause after the Colonel had finished speaking as the weight of the request weighed into the mind of the Austrian commander. While Pillichshammer was by no means as fervent a nationalist as was the trend in Austria these days, he was also not oblivious to the fact that certain parties in Vienna were certainly privy to the leverage posed by several captured Porcuian servicemen. In fact, the old military aristocrat could think of a particular prize the Archduke would be willing to sacrifice the noble course of action over. Yet, this was the well-being of his boys the Archduke, and more so the Reichskanzler and the fascists, were willing to throw away for a plot of land!

Oil or no oil, Austrian military honor was more important to the old commander of this far-off province than the agenda of some fascist upstarts back home in the capital. It wasn't even a question in the general's mind and it would take a lot more than the possibility of idle threats to cow him into abandoning all the values he held as decent and honorable for the Reichswehr.

"Yes, Colonel, I do believe we can agree to that," Pillichshammer replied respectfully. "You understand I hope that despite the likely cause of this altercation being accidental, we will need to conduct a formal investigation to determine why this happened? You will of course be allowed to conduct your own investigation should it please you. As for your men, I can assure you of their good treatment and a safe return to you unmolested in any way."

"At your earliest convenience, I hope, General?"

"Indeed, Colonel. In the meantime, I ask only that you keep me privy as to any maneuvers which may place you in range of our lines. We would not have any further confrontations. We shall be in touch. Auf wiedersehen."

No sooner had the general hung up the phone, his aide returned bearing an updated situation report. The general listened patiently as the young soldier confirmed that the Porcuian servicemen were in custody and being properly attended too by the medical personnel of the garrison. While he was certain that the men were doing their job properly, Pillichshammer nonetheless wanted the garrison's commander to relocate and transfer the prisoners to HQ for an easier trip towards Porcuian lines. It was also a way to maintain that no harm would come to them under Austrian care.

It was only when the General inquired as to Vienna's direction on the matter that the aid fell silent.

"Well? Out with it, corporal!"

"Herr General, we have been told to standby and wait for advisement from the RSD Main Security Office," the man stuttered embarrassed at having to relay the message.

Pillichshammer's brow tightened, "What do you mean, soldier? Those black-shirted bastards have no authority over me! This is a military matter and this is my army!"

"I-I am sorry Herr General, but that was the order from the Minister of War himself," the soldier stated still embarrassed.

"Oh hell!" the General yelled in frustration, grabbing his overcoat and trudging out of his office in a fit. "If those RSD amateurs want to go over my head and dictate to me how I should run this garrison then they have another thing coming!" His voice echoed through the halls and lobby of the center building and was heard further as he exited into the frigid cold wind blowing relentlessly outside in the courtyard.

Ironically, the General walked briskly through the large open space at precisely the time the 2nd Expeditionary Force's only Kampfen RSD division was being sworn into the Austrian military. Officially styled as the 18th Kampfen Volunteer Grenadier Division, the Viking Division, as they were commonly known from their unique battle-axe insignia, was one of the newly formed divisions of the RSD's new military foot-soldiers and were quickly ensnared into the racial ideology of the Reichkanzler's Eisenadler Partie (Iron Eagle Party). The Viking Division was unique in that it was composed entirely by native Norwegians who were captivated by the Adlerite's racial propaganda of Nordic superiority and promises of Norwegian national sovereignty. Led by Austrian officers and trained in a rigorous almost suicidal training program, the Kampfen RSD Divisions were rapidly approaching a reputation for brutality and ruthless efficiency that made them both feared and respected among the cadres of the regular Austrian army.

Oh, how Pillichshammer and many fellow career Reichswehr commanders hated them. With their black and gray uniforms, racially indoctrinated worldview, and hubris-filled attitudes, they represented the antithesis of the old aristocratic model which had begun to characterize the honorable Reichswehr. So many had seen the Reichswehr as the protector of conservative, Christian, wholesome Austrian values, now tainted by an ultranationalist faction with designs on tarnishing the organizations good name. And now they were the enforcers of the RSD's will over his command.

Pillichshammer stood by patiently and disapprovingly at a distance while the division's commander, a young Major, and an RSD bureaucrat read aloud to the men the organization's unique oath of fealty to the Adlerite Party, the German race, and lastly to the Archduke. He spit as the men finished and the two nationalists noticed his presence and sauntered over confidently to greet him.

"Herr General!" the Major saluted rather indifferently, while casually glancing away at his men. His obvious disregard for his commanding officer and smugness pulled so hard at Pillichshammer's core he would have socked the man square across the jaw had the security official not addressed him next.

"Herr General, how do you like your new crack fighting men?" the man asked equally pleased with himself. "I imagine the Porcuians will be in for quite a surprise when they inevitably attack again. Although, perhaps we won't have to wait for them now that the men you've captured are to be arrested and tried as spies."

Pillichshammer spat again, "What the devil do you mean? I have full authority here in this camp to do with those men as I please. This is hardly an internal matter. It is a military one and I have already the authorized a formal investigation and a rendezvous with the Porcuians for release."

The bureaucrat shook his head condescendingly, "Oh, Herr General, that is simply not true. This is no longer in your hands, nor the Reichswehr's for that matter. The RSD Main Security Office has taken full authority over the matter and will be conducting everything concerning the Porcuians from here out. Don't worry, Herr General, you will still be responsible for your other usual duties." The man snapped his fingers and motioned for the Major to follow him.

"This is an outrage!" Pillichshammer cursed out loud, garnering the attention of several in the courtyard who had gathered to watch the growing confrontation. "Who are you to come in here and take my command away from me?! The Archduke will hear of this! This will not stand! Do you hear me?!"

"Who do you think signed off on the order?" The man replied turning around only for a second. "My name is Frederick Schiller, Chief Military Adviser for the RSD Main Security Office, and I had not planned to take your command, Herr General, but should you undermine this process in any way you can count yourself out of a job or worse."

And with that the old warrior fell silent and presented the man with a glare that everyone in the camp who knew Pillichshammer recognized as an affirmation of the general's defiance. Pillichshammer was unflinching in his resolve as he was strong in his love for his men and for his country. He was one of the select few who had seen the writing on the walls and would be among the brave few Austrians loyal to the "old way" who would test the metal of the emerging fascist state. Only time and history would reveal the effect of his upcoming decisions.

Approximately an hour after they were reassured of their captured servicemens' release, the Porcuians in Campus Aeolus would be bypassed entirely and their countrymen in Ariminae would receive a different message entirely. One that had the potential to bring both countries once again on the brink of war over Norway.

Official Communique
Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs
To: Porcuian Ministry of Foreign Affairs

The Empire of Austria is shocked and deeply angered by the recent Porcuian covert incursion into Austrian territory along the Stahl Defensive Line in Norway. The Austrian Empire wishes to inform the government of the Republic that a formal investigation of the incident has been launched by the Reichssicherheitsdienst (RSD) and that acts of espionage by foreign infiltrators run the risk of punishment of the utmost severity under Austrian Military Law. Furthermore, the Empire reserves the right to keep and hold the perpetrators of the incursion until further notice and until any doubt on the situation at hand can be shed.
Edited by Whal, Nov 18 2015, 03:54 PM.
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Porcu
Nov 15 2015, 08:30 PM
In a moment of disbelief, confusion, and sadness, Paulina Attianus tried to make sense of it all. Had she done something wrong?

Oleg reached out and warmly touched her forearm. He reassured her that Alvar would eventually get what was coming to him and that his wife, that poor frail woman, would come to find the courage to denounce her husband and to rid herself of him. They had tried their best in this moment and would be ready to help in the future.

"I suppose you're right." Paulina Attianus said, her gaze wandering away from Oleg. Her short blond hair and oval face momentarily captured Oleg. It was the first time that he took notice of her deep, navy-blue eyes.

"What's your name." Oleg blurted out suddenly before adding, "Sorry, I just don't believe I caught it before."

"Paulina Attianus, Cornelia Paulina Attianus." she replied with a smile. "Yours?"
"Johan, Johan Bernhoft at your service" he stated with a smile. "I live a floor or two up but when I heard the commotion I decided to take a peek."

"So Johan, how do you know Alvar anyways?" Paulina asked as the two walked about towards the staircase.

"Oh I don't....well not really" Oleg stated. "Along with this home activities Alvar is, how you say, a bit a drunk. It just so happens he likes the same drinking hole I attend."

"You drink often then?"

"On occasion....when the occasion permits of course" Oleg stated as he picked up his bag, inspecting them to make sure no one stole anything while he was away. "Anyways, from time to time when I do go I might happen upon that brute. He's apparently quite the regular and well I've heard his name once or twice. Thought he looked familiar when I saw him once and sure enough, passing in the stairwell one day."

"You're quite observant then I take it."

"I guess you could say that" Oleg stated with a smile, "more so when things interest me."

"Oh and what interests you?"

"Certainly not the likes of Alvar I can assure you of that" he stated with a chuckle, Pauline humored him with a smile. "Say speaking of drinks, I need to get this milk back up to my place but if you'll be here when I get back down, I wouldn't mind buying you a drink. The least I can do to liven your spirit given your previous endeavor did not work out quite to well. What do you say?"
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Whal
Nov 18 2015, 03:45 PM
Official Communique
Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs
To: Porcuian Ministry of Foreign Affairs

The Empire of Austria is shocked and deeply angered by the recent Porcuian covert incursion into Austrian territory along the Stahl Defensive Line in Norway. The Austrian Empire wishes to inform the government of the Republic that a formal investigation of the incident has been launched by the Reichssicherheitsdienst (RSD) and that acts of espionage by foreign infiltrators run the risk of punishment of the utmost severity under Austrian Military Law. Furthermore, the Empire reserves the right to keep and hold the perpetrators of the incursion until further notice and until any doubt on the situation at hand can be shed.
Porcuian politics and political and governmental organization were, in all seriousness, a rather complicated matter. At the very least it was that way very often. While there was, in a semi-official capacity, a Foreign Affairs ministry, where was no Minister to speak of. Instead, the task of managing the Republic's foreign affairs was delegated to a member of the Consilium, oftentimes a Consul but occasionally the senior Praetor, Praetor peregrinus, and such a decision usually was made by a vote of the Consilium. Of course, the preeminence of the President's executive functions manifested themselves in the international realm, so in reality the « Ministry of Foreign Affairs » was a joint operation with a soft definition of the responsibilities of the leadership.

Nonetheless, it made for a convenient address for communiqués.

At a meeting of the Consilium the Austrian's message brought out a rather reserved set of responses. Some merely rolled their eyes, not in the least surprised that these fascists would attempt to use the soldiers as bargaining chips. Others just sighed, their exasperation having reached its limit. Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix, whose current responsibilities included those of foreign affairs, waited for the President to provide some indication, some direction, as to how to respond to the Austrians. Atratinus, however, was as stoic as ever.

"Have there been any additional communiques?" Consul Gaius Julius Caesar asked.

"No. I did speak with Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona, the commanding officer of the camp, and he stated that the Austrian general with whom he spoke made clear that our soldiers were being properly taken care of." Cornelius Sulla Felix answered.

"Like hell they are..." Quaestor Gaius Claudius Marcellus said loudly.

"Has the Colonel attempted to reach out to the Austrians again?" Publius Vibius Pansa asked of his colleague.

"Yes, actually. However, the general....General Konrad Pillichshammer is his name...He stated that the matter was out of his hands now."

"Surely, we have the capacity to get our men back." a lowly Quaestor remarked.

"Yes..." Consul Servius Aemilius Cesca replied in the slowest, most patronizing way possible. "And kickstart a war. Wonderful suggestion, Horatius Cocles"

"Those bastards will not even return our dead!"

"Have we made an official reply?" President Atratinus suddenly said, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"No, Praesidis." Cornelius Sulla Felix said.

Atratinus nodded slowly. "Very well; I shall have a response communique ready by this afternoon."

...

Official Communiqué
OPEN DISPATCH

The Republic notes the confusion with which this most unfortunate incident was received by the Austrian State; however, it should be made absolutely clear that the events in question were in no way orchestrated, covert, or deliberate. The meteorological conditions were the catalyst to this unfortunate event. Corroboration by Austrian personnel of the terrible weather events should suffice.

The Republic wishes to assure the Austrian State that an official investigation is already underway, yet the absence of key personnel necessary to an accurate and timely investigation will hamper efforts at constructing a precise timeline of events. The Republic again requests the return of her military personnel back into Porcuian hands.


...

NRE
 

"You're quite observant then I take it."

"I guess you could say that" Oleg stated with a smile, "more so when things interest me."

"Oh and what interests you?"

"Certainly not the likes of Alvar I can assure you of that" he stated with a chuckle, Pauline humored him with a smile. "Say speaking of drinks, I need to get this milk back up to my place but if you'll be here when I get back down, I wouldn't mind buying you a drink. The least I can do to liven your spirit given your previous endeavor did not work out quite to well. What do you say?"


Paulina Attianus beamed. "That would be nice."

She waited patiently for Oleg to return before descending the stairs, detouring momentarily in order to grab a coat and to lock up her own apartment. Oleg was just able to glance inside, noticing a pile of cardboard boxes along the far side the entrance.

"Did you recently move in?" he inquired, motioning with his hand to the boxes.

Paulina Attianus closed and locked her door, returning her keys to her belt loop. "Yes. I'm just a bit slow at cleaning up." she replied with a shy smile.

The two walked down the stairs and exited out into the cold night. Oleg's usual drinking pit-stop was nearby and both he and Paulina Attianus exchanged some light banter as they made their way down the street. Oleg gazed about and, not for the first time, remarked to himself on how clean the walkway and street was. There were parts of Russia that could use a good lesson on how to properly sweep streets and keep pedestrians from breaking their necks if they ventured outside.

The pair eventually arrived to what could only be described as a veritable hole-in-the-wall. Tucked away within an alley just off the main street, the pub was, surprisingly, quiet clean and welcoming. The lighting was pleasant and not too dark, while the decor was charming but not distracting. Paulina Attianus grabbed a small table, while Oleg went up to the bar and ordered two large beers. He made his way to the table after a moment and set down both tall glasses before seating himself.

To his amazement Paulina Attianus had polished off her entire glass of beer just as he was set to make a small toast. Paulina Attianus smacked her lips and held up her empty glass, waiting for Oleg to follow suit. He smiled widely and let his inner Russian shine, downing his own beer in several large gulps. Paulina Attianus then took both of their empty glasses and returned them to the counter, returning only when she had two more tall glasses.

"So, Johan...It's Johan, yes?" she began as he settled herself in her seat. "What brings you to Narvik?"

Paulina Attianus continued when she got a confused look from Oleg. "What I mean is that unless you and your family are super nationalistic, which I doubt, then I'd guess that you're from someplace else. Narvik has been Porcuian long enough that only those who truly believe themselves to be vikings reborn have Norwegian names instead of Latin names."

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Headquarters of the Austrian 2nd Expeditionary Force, Norway..

The communique from the Porcuians was handled in a manner much to be expected by the Austrians. A terse, concise, and ultimately dismissive response was drafted and approved by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Vienna and immediately transferred to the proper channels. What the Porcuians would make of practically a clear, but professional "go fuck yourself" was up to their government, and the Adlerite bureaucrats who approved the message gave such little concern. In truth, these days the Archduke was increasingly out of the loop when it came to small low level communications. His attentions were often focused elsewhere - negotiations with the empire's "vassals" in Budapest and Zagreb, as well as his constant need to prepare his widening alliance with the Romanovs.

Meanwhile, those in Norway who were faced with the very real threat of a military engagement breaking out with the Porcuians were bitterly divided on how to handle the dilemma of the captured servicemen. The greater military camp, the Reichswehr generals, were almost 100% committed to returning the Porcuains to their commander with as little as a formal apology and perhaps a promise to remain on their side of the border in the future. This was what General Konrad Pillichshammer had promised to the Porcuian commander when the issue was first presented to him and it was what the aged battle-tested commander still wished to do. Yet, despite this almost obvious feat of altruism being the norm, the Austrian military in Harstad had now to contend with a new political force; one that now had a direct and trusted ear to the Archduke and the support and resources to dictate a degree of power from their seats in the Reichstag.

Long gone were the days when the RSD operated subserviently to the Reichswehr. Since their expansion and strengthening under the sheer will and cunning of the Reichskanzler Jurgen von Pless, the body became a political tool and was organized into an alliance with the emergent power of the fascists. All under the pretense of national security and a gripping fear of internal terrorism and subversiveness, the Adlerites had convinced the Archduke to grant them full bureaucratic power over practically ever facet of Austria's governmental apparatus. The Party was now practically in control of the country, yet remained under the radar enough to not step on the monarch's toes as to not aggravate the Archduke. Ironically, it was only the Archduke who could put up a strong resistance to the fascists, yet he was firmly resolved in his support of them.

It was the RSD which troubled and confounded the situation inside Norway now. As the Porcuians were captured under suspicious circumstances, they were labeled as possible agents of espionage and therefore fell under the jurisdiction of the RSD. This not only prevented the Reichswehr from handling the situation with a calm head, but allowed the fascists to use the situation towards one of their end goals - a war with the Republic. It was precisely this tragic and pointless affair which General Pillichshammer wished to avoid, as even the Archduke himself was wary of such an endeavor. The RSD would bring his country into a conflict for which it was ill prepared and could only win through bitter attrition.

The General sat deflated in his chair with a large frown. His head ached and a second glass of brandy wouldn't alleviate the pain from the decision he had resolved himself too in his head. His eyes casually drifted out through the large window in his office to the courtyard where some engineers were hastily at work on a gallows. While the encampment was in need of such a thing anyway, Pillichshammer knew its purpose was also to frighten the Porcuians who were already terrified inside their cells within the camp's stockade. The old general shook his head. "The bastards certainly would be so bold. So crazy," he thought.

He thrust his fist down hard on his desk, finally deciding that it was time to back up his thoughts with action. His thoughts were always centered on his men and their well being. They would not be sacrificed to serve the whims of some bastard fascist politician in Vienna. He instructed his aide that he was in fact going through with his decision. The young man merely smiled and saluted his commander before passing along the information to his collaborators. Pillichshammer poured another glass of brandy. There would be no show trial, no execution. Those men would go free.

---

Later that night the compound was rather silent. A few sentries stood guard, some of the Kampfen RSD, but most were Reichswehr and loyal to the General. It was slightly after 2 P.M, when Pillichshammer's aide woke him from his deep sleep. The General immediately snapped to attention, put on his tunic and entered into his private council room. There waiting for him were six very loyal and committed soldiers who had agreed to partake in the escapade which could quite possibly lose them their lives.

"Gentlemen, it is time," Pillichshammer spoke confidently, yet with no levity in his tone. "You have all come here willingly with a sound mind to do the right thing. I thank you for that. What we do tonight may end badly, but I wish to promise you that whatever happens I will stand beside you. Remember now men, what one does in times of great turmoil shows their true character. Do what is right for this country. May God bless you, men."

The soldiers saluted their commander confidently and committed. One man, the groups leader, even stayed behind to shake the general's hand personally and offer him his thanks. The camp was eerily quiet as the men fanned out to their positions; careful not to draw suspicions or attention towards their plans. The first two were to secure a truck from the depot and ready it for the groups departure. The next three men were to enter the stockades, distract or dismiss the two RSD sentries, and then free the Porcuians. Last, the sixth man was to cause a distraction in the RSD barracks and prevent any immediate response should anything go wrong.

The two men sent to the depot were quite successful in procuring a truck. The only man on duty was the night officer who was easy enough to explain away for the ten minutes needed for the Porcuians to escape. The single man sent to the barracks had brought with him a bottle of vodka and a deck of cards and was able to set up a gambling table in little time at all. Soon, most if not all who were awake were playing cards and properly distracted. Last, the trio dispatched to the stockades entered casually as two approached the two Norwegian RSD volunteers who acted as sentries - man to man. The third man, the group's officer, waited in reserve as a lookout or as a surprise in case things went sour.

"Are you our relief for the night?" one of the Norwegians asked in his best German.

One of the Austrian's smiled and patted the man on the back, "Jawohl, we got these assholes now. Major's orders."

The one sentry seemed content to leave, but the second wore a scowl and leaned against the cage in protest. He looked over the Austrians and noticed their Reichswehr uniforms.

"If you are our relief," he stated skeptically, "Why aren't you in proper uniform? Major ordered these men watched by RSD men only."

One of the Austrians casually gazed at his watch, its hand was ticking and he quickly noticed that time was not on their side. Soon, the true relief would be arriving and they couldn't be here when they did. He would need to try another bluff, otherwise the stockade's would soon be a lot redder than they were a before they arrived.

"Major needs all you black shirted fools at the barracks for some type of meeting," the man with the watch said confidently. "Don't ask us buddy, your commander grabbed us as we stopped by the barracks and ordered us to watch them for a couple minutes."

This seemed to finally convince the second man as he swung his rifle around his shoulder. The two men began walking away from the cell towards the barracks when an Austrian RSD officer arrived in the hallway. He looked all four men up and down and approached cautiously. The two Austrians didn't show fear, but a cool sweat was beginning to form on the nape of their backs despite the biting cold.

"And where do you men think you're going?" the RSD officer asked concerned. "Your shift hasn't ended yet."

"To the meeting," the impressionable Norwegian replied.

"What meeting, private?" the Officer inquired angrily. "Did you two men spin this nonsense?" He turned towards the two Reichswehr soldiers.

"Herr Lieutenant," one of the men stammered, "That's what we were told by the Major."

The RSD Officer smirked, "The Major's just left town on family leave. I think you two men better come with me."

The officer placed his hand on his holster, but he was unable to draw his pistol. As soon as the man had identified the two soldiers as being dishonest, a small blade had been thrust into his spine and a gloved hand was placed over his mouth. The hand and blade belonged to the plot's leading officer who had snuck around to the other side of the stockade to flank the approaching RSD officer. In an instant and before the two Norwegians could raise a weapon or a voice in protest, the other soldiers men had set upon them with their bayonets delivering deep and fatal wounds in multiple places. Soon the virgin snow was covered in dark red streaks and deep pools of blood. The Porcuians who up until now had sat quietly and indifferent to the situation now stood up in disbelief. They changed their posture to those of men who believed those blades would then be turned on them, yet instead were greeted with polite tone of Austrians speaking their language.

"Listen carefully, you are being freed by sympathetic individuals within the Austrian military. You were to be executed, but we saved you. You are to inform your superiors that you were freed by members of the local Norwegian resistance. We have secured a truck for your escape. Please, you must trust us. Please follow us," was the message stated flatly by the Austrian officer. It sounded as he has rehearsed it many times.

The Porcuians looked at each other and then at their captors turned saviors. Their commanding officer nodded and muttered a quick thank you in German before motioning to his fellow men to follow him and the Austrians. In quick succession the group moved quickly among the shadows and made it to the depot where their truck awaited. An Austrian stayed behind with the bodies and was to wait exactly two minutes before announcing the escape. He begrudgingly took to his second task of marking the bodies with the calling card of the Norwegian resistance - a severed ear stuffed in the corpse's mouth.

The remaining Austrians helped the Porcuians into the truck and opened the back gate for them to escape. One soldier was to go with them to the Porcuian lines as a "hostage" taken on the "raid." As the truck left the compound with its lights dimmed, the Porcuians heard the camp's siren's blaring and watched as search lights began piercing the pitch black of the night. Luckily for them though, the truck had eased beyond their range and was on the road towards the border. It would stop along the way to proceed to the Porcuian lines through the deep wilderness - in a location where Austrian patrols were infrequent. The bitter cold from the blizzard would be a cruel mistress, but it beat a hangman's noose every time.

Now, it was up to the group to arrive on their own accord; the only further help from the Austrians was from the "hostage" in the form of a navigator. Back in his office, Pillichshammer was quietly alerted before the RSD arrived that the endeavor had been a success, yet three men had been killed. Pillichshammer nodded in approval. Hopefully, it was a small price to pay for years of pointless bloodshed.
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Castra Aeolus, Norge Septentriones

Looking out from their relative spot of comfort and worth at the Nordic landscape that surrounded the Porcuian military base it was actually somewhat of a wonder that everyone had made it, even the Porcuian soldiers who were still nursing injuries from their initial firefight and subsequent capture.

The storm system had migrated southeast and left a heavy coat of snow and ice in its wake. That, and a tranquility that reminded the lone Austrian "prisoner" of his hometown in the western-most confines of Austria where Nature's glory was, arguably, unparalleled. The escapees had traversed kilometers of rough terrain in order to avoid the Austrian patrols, and fortunately never had a single encounter. Moreover, the group had made it well into Porcuian territory before they were found and transported by friendly patrols.

The soldiers, the Austrian included, were given treatment fit for a king - a hot shower followed by a hot meal and a subsequent visit to the sauna as an unofficial part of their debriefing. The men were well attended to in those early morning hours and slept as if under a spell for most of the day. They were eventually awoken by an aide to the base's commander Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona and escorted to the commander's office. Major Augustus Valerius Publicola was also present.

The soldiers entered and promptly saluted their superiors, sans the Austrian, before being given the order to stand at ease. Colonel Octavius Dona was seated behind his desk and seemed joyful at having his men back. Major Valerius Publicola, on the other hand, retained an expression of doubt, though he too was overjoyed at seeing his men alive and well.

"I am happy to see you men are well, though I am still saddened by the loss of several members of your recon group." the Colonel began, drawing a curious gaze from the Major. "Lieutenant, you gave a preliminary report yesterday...Is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"No, Sir." the Porcuian recon squad leader replied.

Colonel Octavius Dona nodded slightly and signaled for the two MPs situated near the door to escort the Porcuians and the Austrian out, leaving behind the Lieutenant. The Colonel explained that the soldiers were to receive their new orders from their superior, while the Austrian was to be escorted to the detention facility. "Make sure he's properly cared for." the Colonel remarked. "I will be in contact with General Pillichshammer soon."

An intense interrogation took place between the three Porcuians remaining, driven mainly by Major Valerius Publicola. Details surrounding the escape - who and how - as well as the group's trek back through the wilderness were all scrutinized. The Major was skeptical that the Norwegian resistance was bold enough to infiltrate the Austrian base, let alone strong enough. His focus remained on uncovering any advantage to be gained by the Austrians. Conversely, the Colonel was happy to accept the story as told by the Lieutenant, his willingness buttressed by the sense of professional, soldierly camaraderie he felt toward the Austrian General Pillichshammer.

Eventually, the Lieutenant was dismissed, despite the Major's reservations.

"I still have no idea where you're going with this line of inquiry, Valerius Publicola." the Colonel said.

"Sir, doesn't it seem strange to you that following a clear message to Ariminae stating that our men would remain within Austrian hands that, suddenly, they return? And with an Austrian in tow?"

"I'm just glad to have my men back."

"I am too, Sir, but something is not right here. I would like to speak with the Austrian."

The Colonel shook his head vigorously. "No, no, no...I'm going to telephone the Austrians and trade for the return of our dead. I want to conclude this business."

"But..."

"Major, it's almost time for your afternoon report. I don't expect any delay and want that report on my desk by 18:00."

Major Valerius Publicola stood from his chair off to the side of where the Colonel sat. He adjusted his cap and saluted, turning sharply before exiting the office. His gut rumbled, not from hunger but from worry. He would discover what really had happened and would stop the Austrian's plan in its tracks.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

Narvik, Norge Septentriones

Tired from another long day sat in front of a computer screen, Cornelia Paulina Attianus struggled to keep herself going. Her latest assignment, yet another which lacked her input, interest, or approval, was due in ten minutes. The morning press had need of their material and while some deadlines were flexible, she knew hers was not. Despite being so close to the end, the shear dullness of her present assignment made any sort of witty or intelligent conclusion extremely difficult.

A message popped up on her computer screen. It was from her editor. "I still have not received your report on the salmon farming study. I need it now."

Paulina Attianus rubbed her eyes and yawned. After swearing under her breath she gave the article one last read through before writing the worst conclusion she had ever written. Contented, she emailed back her editor and slouched in her chair as a sudden, oppressive fatigue came over her. She was half awake when the movement of her colleague on the other side of the cubicle awoke her. A friendly face popped up over the wall.

"Wanna get out of here?"

"You have no idea..." Paulina Attianus replied.

The two young women packed their things and returned their desks to an orderly state before leaving their cubicles and proceeding out. Paulina Attianus, however, stopped for a moment upon passing her mailbox and realizing that a letter remained inside. The sender's name and address were unknown to her, which tug at her curiosity. She opened it to find a simple and curt typed message.

"Magnus apologizes for not being able to contact you sooner. You are missed. Let us know if you'll be able to make it."

A separate address was provided just below. There was no name and no indication of another message. Putting the letter in her purse before joining her colleague, Paulina Attianus shared a taxi back to her apartment. She was suddenly alert and awake, eager to get started on her next mission. She was so eager to get changed and get going that she barely noticed Johan as he was descending the stairs as she was ascending. Johan (Oleg) was taken aback but left Paulina Attianus alone, figuring that she was preoccupied with something urgent.

Once inside her apartment Paulina Attianus opened her «work» computer and set about locating the address contained in the letter and trying to draw any additional information she could. Internet searches were inconclusive with regard to the «what», but the «where» was decidedly easier. The location was on the northern confines of the industrial section of the grand Narvik harbor. Paulina Attianus took note of the time, already relatively late, and went about preparing herself.

...

Posted Image

The massive snowstorm that had passed through the area several days before had given a coat of snow and ice to the whole city, including the harbor and the neighboring industrial district. The evening was tolerable, though Paulina Attianus was glad she had decided on wearing an extra layer of warmth.

Situated out of sight from the warehouse which was her target destination, the Porcuian SSR agent had waited and would continue to wait until she was sure of being able to enter. In the time that she had been scouting the warehouse several trucks and cars had parked nearby, their occupants making their way inside. She had no way of talking her way in and could not assume that her presence would go unnoticed even if she managed to slip inside. As the hours grew increasingly late the traffic around the warehouse dissipated, finally convincing Paulina Attianus that her best chance was now.

She took a slight detour and ran to the opposite end of the warehouse. Fortunately, there were several large crates stacked one on top of each other, providing her with a means to ascend to the same level as the top floor of the warehouse. Unfortunately, she was stuck at this point. There were no more crates and climbing onto the roof was not wise, especially if the accumulated snow hid ice underneath. A pair of voices suddenly made themselves heard and Paulina Attianus immediately flattened herself against the top of the crate. Hidden from view, she overheard a part of a conversation.

"...'Bout fuckin' time." a gruff voice said in Latin. His accent was decidedly Norwegian.

"I've heard even the military is starting to get fed up..." the other said after taking a moment to light a cigarette. "Things should get moving soon and before you know it those fancy Austrian royalists and fascists will get what's been long coming to them."

"...'Bout fuckin' time."

The two men quickly finished a portion of their cigarettes before tossing them into the snow and returning inside the warehouse. In the meantime, Paulina Attianus had located a ladder nearby which ascended up and underneath the roof, entering the warehouse through a small entrance. The problem was that she would have to jump in order to make it. The ladder was partly retracted and did not reach all the way down to ground level. She braced herself and motioned through the jump a couple of times before taking a deep breath and a running start.

From inside the warehouse a loud clank was heard by a group of three heavy set men followed by the grinding of metallic shearing. The three exchanged confused looks and readied their handguns before stepping out from the warehouse. Nothing suspicious was identified until one noticed that the metal ladder on the side of the warehouse had disengaged and slid down. A cursory glance around the area proved uneventful, so the three guards convinced themselves that all was well and returned to the warmth of the warehouse.

Paulina Attianus' heart was racing inside her chest. She had just managed to, first, secure her footing on the ladder before it unlocked and slid down, nearly throwing her from the ladder once it stopped, and, then, manage to climb all the way to the top and into the warehouse without being caught. Beside for the fact that her orders of engagement prohibited deadly force, she was not carrying a firearm.

The inside of the warehouse was packed with crates of heavy industrial equipment, much of it destined to be exported, and rows upon rows of fishing equipment. The heavy stench of fish was inescapable and Paulina Attianus only hoped that she would quickly grow accustomed. She remained as quiet as possible and soon picked up the sound of a strong, confident voice emanating from a corner of the warehouse. Traversing across a thin metal platform which cut across the whole warehouse, Paulina Attianus gradually came within earshot of the speaker. She looked down upon a rather large group, perhaps numbering close to 300, and proceeded to take several photos, uploading them directly to the drive of the laptop in her apartment. She didn't recognize the speaker, a well built and handsome man, and neither did she recognize the equally well built man standing confidently next to him. From the mens' physique and the way they stood self-assuredly Paulina Attianus reasoned that they had to be members of the armed forces, even policemen didn't have the sense of importance that the two men had.

Below the female SSR agent, currently absorbed entirely in his address to the large crowd gathered before him, Major Augustus Valerius Publicola did his best to make clear his rationale for joining the cause. He had been born into a Republic that conveyed strength, a Republic that proudly exercised its right to self-defense on behalf of all of its citizens. He had been raised in a Republic that valued honor and duty. He had been raised to believe that the bonds that united all Porcuians were sacred. He had enlisted and risen through the ranks because he had come to believe that he could best serve the Republic in that capacity.

"But I have witnessed firsthand how the lives of you and your fellow countrymen are weighed, measured, and tossed away impassively. I wish I could say that I did my utmost to save my men that night..." Major Valerius Publicola said with a falling, increasingly emotional cadence. "I stood by and watched as my men were killed by those monsters on the other side of that defensive line."

The Major looked out at the crowd of men before him and paused. Silence.

"And I am ashamed..." the Major continued, hanging his head slightly. "Those mens' lives were traded away in a calculation that leaves us, the Republic, no better off. What could I possibly say to the family of those men? That their sacrifice was valiant? That they helped ensure the defense of the Republic? No...I can't possibly say anything at all, for anything that I could would be empty. The families don't deserve that. Those men don't deserve that. The Republic doesn't deserve that.

"The Republic deserves men and women who will live up to her values, who will honor her and those who are blessed enough to be Porcuian. Instead of having men and women of character, of honor, of selflessness watching over her, the Republic is plagued by the company of the spineless, the stupid, and the dishonest. The Republic surely weeps as she gazes upon those we foolishly allowed to govern...

"But that isn't the way things have to be." the Major said, his voice again growing in strength. "We can return glory and honor to the Republic. We can see that she is well protected, that all who wish ill upon her are rendered silent. With your help we can begin to set the Republic on a path to victory!"

A resounding cheer erupted from the crowd. Fists rose in the air and was eventually replaced by a rhythmic clapping to match the cheer.

Paulina Attianus was stunned. She had continued to snap photos through the end of the speech, but couldn't quite believe what she had heard. "Just what exactly is going on?", she thought to herself.

It all began to happen so quickly. Where before there was relative calm, there was sudden chaos.

Paulina Attianus heard a sudden roar from below and looked down from her metal walkway to see the tall, muscular man who had stood patiently next to the men giving the speech abruptly pushing aside his coat and reaching for a gun. The man's gaze was directed at the opposite end of the warehouse from where Paulina Attianus stood and up at the metal platform, where a shadowy figure was barely discernible from where the female Porcuian SSR agent was. The man fired off several shots in quick succession, he was clearly well-trained, but did not appear to down the figure. Paulina Attianus watched in utter captivation as the figure bolted from his spot and ran down the metal walkway, nearly the full width of the warehouse.

"There's another one!"

Paulina Attianus' legs began to move before she could entirely process what had been yelled. She swiveled in place and avoided the first of two shots which came from a guard on the floor of the warehouse. A third was deflected by a metal pipe below her. She ran the same way she had come initially and noticed a figure quickly approaching her from the right. Just as they were to meet at an intersection of two walkways the figure twisted before falling to their knees. A moment later, the figure was back up on their feet, their hand grasping at their torso.

"It can't be..." Paulina Attianus thought. "Johan?!"
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
It did not take long to discover the bodies.

The entirety of the Austrian garrison in the Harstad HQ would be awoken to a terribly shameful and infuriating scene, yet only a few were privy to its existence at first. Much to their chagrin, dozens of sleepy-eyed soldiers were immediately and systematically risen from their bunks by their squad leaders without any information and ordered to amass in the central courtyard. With the moon still resting firmly in the center of the night's sky, the garrison stood at attention awaiting the reason for their sudden mobilization.

Despite his compliance in the act, General Pillichshammer had issued the twilight rollcall. That the RSD would find the bodies sooner rather than later was a definite, yet still the seasoned commander understood that his quick reaction would place him and his men in a much better position. So, he swallowed his shame, buried it deep, and assembled his men. Dressed quickly but immaculately, he wore each and every piece of his military uniform without issue even as the freezing cold northern winds brushed his exposed face. He walked briskly and eagerly down the line looking over his men.

"Gentlemen, we have been infiltrated this night," his voice echoed throughout the courtyard. "I do not wish to dawdle on emotional speeches or propaganda about the enemy, as time is of the essence, so I shall cut to the base of the matter. Approximately a half hour ago this night, men we believe to be members of the local resistance infiltrated our camp, murdered three sentries guarding our Porcuian prisoners, and freed them before taking one of own hostage and fleeing into the night."

The men were motionless and silent, but their faces could not hide their true feelings of disgust and anger. Their furrowed brows and tears betrayed their anger and melancholy, but Pillichshammer knew in their hearts they had settled on vengeance and this made his stomach turn, yet he pressed on.

"Men, I know this is upsetting, but understand that these acts shall not go unpunished," he continued, his weathered face hiding the anger and shame in his own heart at having ordered the crime. "As men of the Austrian Empire, we will bring those responsible to justice and regain our honor. We shall split this garrison into five search-and-apprehend contingents and find these perpetrators alongside our Porcuian prisoners. Report to your commanding officers, and be ready to move out in 15 minutes. Dismissed!"

The Austrian soldiers returned to their barracks quickly and dressed for the mission. Meanwhile, General Pillichshammer silently pulled the men aside he had chosen for the rescue and attached them to his staff. He believed that keeping them close would keep them from harm this night, either from the resistance, the RSD, and ultimately themselves.

By the time the majority of Austrian soldiers had already began their mostly futile sorties into the city and its surrounding area, the RSD had organized its own mission apart from, but in coordination with that of Pillichshammer's Reichswehr. Frederick Schiller, the Adlerite Party's man in Harstad, had already assembled the Viking Division and ordered them to partake in a very different mission – one more focused on reprisal and interrogations than bumbling around the area's snow-covered forests.

Once the majority of the camp had been emptied on the mostly foolish mission, General Pillichshammer took a moment to rest in his office and reconcile with his actions. His gaze shifted over to the bottle of brandy still resting on his desk. He poured himself a tall glass of it.

No matter how he spun it, he had dishonored his men. He could sleep easily knowing that he had saved the lives of some innocent men, but his treachery had already caused the death of three men (albeit fascists) and there was no saying how many more innocent people may die in their wake – his own men nonetheless. He had already pounded back three drinks by the time his aide entered the office and informed him that he had an urgent call on the other line.

He already knew who it was.

"Yes, Colonel," Pillichshammer answered with a very convincing, yet faked anger. "I was just about to call you. I regret to inform you that we have a rather serious problem.."
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman

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Dec 17 2015, 10:16 PM
"So, Johan...It's Johan, yes?" she began as he settled herself in her seat. "What brings you to Narvik?"

Paulina Attianus continued when she got a confused look from Oleg. "What I mean is that unless you and your family are super nationalistic, which I doubt, then I'd guess that you're from someplace else. Narvik has been Porcuian long enough that only those who truly believe themselves to be vikings reborn have Norwegian names instead of Latin names."

Johan smiled and then laughed a bit. "Oh but we are!" he stated rather confidently. "My father raised me to join the Viking horde when I was just a lad you see. Pitty of course, that I found out rather quickly that a Viking blade does very little against a Porcuian Tank or a Austrian machine gun." At this point through his exclamation Johan had raised his glass like a sword and was read to put one foot on the table but then realized that no one like an over dramatic so he stopped, smiled again, and sat back down.

"No, you are right we are not ones of be over nationalistic" he stated looking into his glass. "I went to school to tinker with machines, computers and such. I tried the corporate thing but that life is much to dull for a man like myself. So I guess you could say that at the moment I am a drifter."

Paulina said very little, leaving Johan to give up as much about himself as he choose to.

"I come from the low country and well, one day I looked at a map and figure...Narvik....why not." He took a rather healthy gulp of his drink. "I have taken a variety of odd jobs since arriving and well...aside from our good friend Alvar of course."

To that Johan got a bit of a chuckle from Paulina and he smiled. The two conversed for another hour or so, Johan telling scripted stories of his youth, Paulina perhaps doing the same. She did reveal her line of work and then the two walked back to their apartment building where, despite his best advances, he got little more than a kiss on the cheek and an thanks for the drinks. It was probably for the best he thought as he walked back to his place a bit frustrated. After all, he'd have a missed call and couldn't keep it brother André waiting.

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

Oleg (Johan) was not particularly thrilled with his latest assignment. To him, he figured he was going to yet another exciting ultra-nationalist rally. Which meant sitting through another hour or so of immigrant-bashing, nationalist praising, and ego-stroking speeches. However, Igor explained to him that transmissions had been intercepted about something moving in Narvik, movement that interested the big people back home. They couldn't really piece it together with what they had, so they need more intel and of course Oleg was naturally the man for the job. Grabbing his pistol and making sure the silencer was well in place, he proceeded down the stairwell only to cross paths with Paulina. Oleg wanted to say his, perhaps even make plans with her for later but then remembered he was thinking with the wrong head. He couldn't be confident his mission would end early enough and didn't need to mix in with the local that well.

He made his way to the docks, more at dusk than nightfall which only made him getting into the place a little more challenging. He'd go by water but well..the water is fucking cold he thought to himself, and he didn't have a death wish. Instead he sat and watched the trucks go in, finally catching a chance to get in by holding on the undercarriage of one of the trailers and riding in. When the coast was clear he popped out and then hid behind some crates, watching everyone's movements as best he could from his vantage point. After a few minutes of observation he peg one of the larger warehouses as the center of activity. Moving along the way, ducking behind whatever he could find for cover he made himself to this particular warehouse. Night was setting in that this point and as he made way inside not everyone had gathered yet. He used the opportunity to scale a ladder in one of the corners of the room, stepping with care so as to minimize the sound. Once on the walkway above he found himself a nice vantage point and crouched so as not to be as noticeable. He'd brought with him, along with his side arm, a small portable camera so as to send faces back for the boys in Saint Petersburg to identify.

Before the meeting began he'd heard the noise from the outside but thought little of it. He figured it was just ice shifting from the roof. Throughout the saber rattling belong he took pictures, making out as many faces as possible. What the Russian agent didn't realize however, was the lighting of the warehouse from his position was slightly reflect from the license of his camera. He was too busy taking shots to realize that one of the men had notice it and when the speech was at an end, took to his pistol and took aim. Luckily for Oleg, despite the man's training Oleg did not get hit and instead found himself rising and began to bolt for an exit. Oleg believe he'd seen an exit earlier from his height of the building and that was direction he ran, all the while dodging the storm of bullets as best he could. Rounding the corner he saw another figure among the shadows moving in the general direction. His instinct was the grab for his gun seeing no weapon in the Silhouette of the figure, he made the split decision to simply over power the person once in range. Rounding the corner, his his adrenaline pumping, he was mentally prepared to pounce the figure he was about to run into when the sharp pain of a gunshot brought him to his knees. Right in the torso, Sloppy work Oleg my boy he thought to himself as he brought his head up, expecting to find the barrel of a gun in his face.

But he did not, instead the figure was much more pronounced and much more beautiful than he'd expect. By damn it was Paulina and with as much of an expression of confusion on her face and he felt himself. However, it must have either been the pain or the adrenaline that kept his emotions in balance and instead he simply smiled. "I wouldn't expect you could give a fella a hand could you?" he asked in his genuine joking manner. Hesitant at first, the gunshots put Paulina into action and after helping Oleg to his feet the two bolted out the same entrance to which Paulina had come. Once on the outside Paulina made a b-line for the way in which she came but found Oleg marching off in a different direction.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.

"I'll never make it on foot, the truck." He replied, pointing to a truck just a foot away. The two jumped in, Paulina insisting on driving and Oleg not in a position to argue. Small and fast, they quickly sped away, driving straight through the small barricade and into the night. Oleg looked backwards for several minutes, expecting a change. Luckily Paulina quickly took them down several back roads off the main highway and soon he was confident they weren't going to be followed.

"So..." Oleg said, breaking the silence...."Want to go for a drink?"
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

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Mar 28 2016, 12:50 PM
He replied, pointing to a truck just a foot away. The two jumped in, Paulina insisting on driving and Oleg not in a position to argue. Small and fast, they quickly sped away, driving straight through the small barricade and into the night. Oleg looked backwards for several minutes, expecting a change. Luckily Paulina quickly took them down several back roads off the main highway and soon he was confident they weren't going to be followed.

"So..." Oleg said, breaking the silence...."Want to go for a drink?"
Paulina Attianus replied in a deathly serious tone, "Not in the shape you're in. Best to get that looked at."

The Porcuian drove on for some time, though it became apparent to Oleg that she was skirting around the metropolis on secondary roads. They eventually came to a small building nestled in the middle of a residential area on the outskirts of the city. Pulling around to the back, Paulina Attianus informed Oleg that a general clinician who secretly worked for the SSR had prepared for them.

"She's a good woman. I've met her before...Very smart."

Suddenly, the backdoor of the clinic swung open and an unassuming woman of middle age motioned for the two agents to enter quickly. As Oleg followed behind the two Porcuians, trying hard to pick up their almost incomprehensible mix of Latin and local Norwegian dialect, he took note of the care that the physician gave to the facility. The doctor, herself a Norwegian but trained in Patavium, led the two secret agents to one of the patient rooms. A series of surgical equipment was set out and Oleg was instructed to remove his shirt and to lie on the examination table. The two Porcuians continued their frenzied conversation as blood slowly oozed out from the Russian's wound.

"Excuse me...Sorry" Oleg said, trying his best to be polite.

"It's alright." the physician remarked reflexively. "I'll have you patched up and out of here in no time." She paused for a moment, however, and looked at Oleg straight in the eyes. "Yet, I wonder if there will be any repercussions to aiding a monarchist such as yourself."

"Just get to it!" Paulina Attianus said. "We have to get back to town."

The physician grunted approvingly before turning her attention to Oleg and his wound. The operation was straightforward and Oleg was impressed by the doctor's skill. Despite the limited use of analgesic, given only around the wound site, Oleg felt little and was never in much discomfort. In the time that it took for Paulina Attianus to exit the room, prepare three cups of tea, and to return, Oleg was being stitched up.

"That's an amazing job you've done." Oleg replied, bending slightly so as to see the work being done on him.

The physician looked back at him and smiled. "Don't go telling all your friends. The only reason you're not dead is because you're working with my Paulina Attianus here."

"We're not together." Paulina Attianus shot back from behind the doctor.

"What?" the physician replied, with a tone more reflective of suspicion than confusion.

"We were both independently investigating a gathering of ultra-conservatives here in Narvik known as the «Defenders of the Republic - Honor»." Oleg added. He attempted to sit up but was quickly rebuked by the doctor.

"Ahhhh..." she replied as she finished dressing up Oleg's wound. "I've only heard whispering of them. That is, aside from the ghastly posters that have popped up."

"Ariminae is concerned that these groups are connected." Paulina Attianus said.

The physician turned to Oleg with a questioning look. "What is Russia's concern? This would strike me as an internal affair for the Republic."
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman

Oleg raised a eyebrow while slowly putting his shirt back on. "Well I wouldn't know personally but I imagine if I had to guess, any problem of yours is a problem of theirs if it gets out of hand....."

Both the doctor and Paulina gave Oleg a disapproving look. The "gig" was up as far as they were concerned, they knew he was Russian and figured he was KSB but if he wanted to play the game then so be it. At least, Paulina was willing to play along, the Doctor on the other hand had done her duty and wanted little more to do with the monarchist. She thanked Paulina for the tea but choose to take it in her office, leaving the two spies to her common room at least for the moment.

"You can't stay long" she stated before leaving the two.

Paulina and Oleg, who was still a little sore, made their way to the common room and took a seat. Oleg thanked Paulina for the tea and the two sipped in relative silence. Surprising to Paulina, Oleg was the first to break the silence.

"I imagine if Saint Petersburg were worried, they'd be worried for the simple fact that a war here could have bigger ramifications throughout the continent. Hypothetically speaking of course" he stated, perhaps more to reassure himself that he was still undercover though for all intense and purpose, he was not. "After all, since the change in Vienna this hasn't been the most friendly place in the continent and whatever starts here will undoubtedly spill out into greater Europe. Wouldn't you like to see the storm coming before it hits?"

"Well I suppose if you put it like that" Paulina replied shortly.

"Of course that's just my guess, I wouldn't really know.....Still, these Ultranationalist don't seem like the usual type of cooks and military wannabes....if you want to know my intuition, I'd say someone's organizing them....but why and what for, who knows?"
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Harstaad, Norway..

While General Pillischammer and his men were stewing at their posts back at base, the RSD had promised to make the Norwegians pay for their cowardly attack on the garrison. The once tranquil night soon erupted into action throughout the city with the sounds of diesel engines, men barking orders, and the blinding light pollution from truck headlights. Spreading out into three main 'strike forces', the RSD Viking Division fanned out in all directions and hit a myriad of targets where suspected resistance dens and weapons caches were reported. Fortunately for the RSD, a few of the kicked-in doors did lead to resistance fighters or hidden weapons and ordinance. Unfortunately for the civilian population of Haarstad however, several homes with innocents were impacted and more than a few bewildered and terrified Norwegians were ruffed up, apprehended against their will, or both.

While the vast majority of the civilians impacted by the raid were in for a momentary inconvenience, the entirety of the resistance fighters unfortunate enough to be ensnared by the RSD were in for a more permanent outcome. That is, before a healthy degree of torture or 'interrogation' was used to extract the pertinent information. One such interrogation occurred grimly in a church basement of all places.

The once peaceful place of worship, a room that only hours ago hosted choir practice, was now witness to a brutal scene. Two men were strapped to a chair with their hands fastened behind them. Their drooped heads hung low and their worried faces reflected back at them from a modest pool of blood resting menacingly at their feet. An ordeal of a few minutes rapidly began to feel like hours as the beatings continued. To make matters worse, the blows were coming from fellow Norwegians rather than the hated occupiers.

"Are you ready to talk, yet?" A Norwegian RSD soldier asked the restrained men. "We can go at this all night if you want."

A silence permeated through the room for a short while before a grunt of disapproval signaled that the men were still proud enough to hold on. Yet, this defiance was quickly met with force from the Kampfen RSD men who were ferocious in their attempts to secure favor and accolades from their Austrian superiors. What began with fists and boots soon devolved into truncheons, pistol grips, and rifle-stocks as the RSD continued to work-over the captured men. A yelp. broken jaw, and whimpers from one of the men signaled to the jackals that one of their prey was rapidly reaching the breaking-point.

"Please, no more," an older man managed to mutter from his dislocated jaw. A soldier grabbed the back of his hair and pulled his head up to the light. Through the two puffy welts that used to be the man's eye-holes, only submission could be read and any fight that once existed there had abated in the deluge of abuse.

"Sure, no problem. Just tell us who planned the raid on the compound and where they are," A Norwegian corporal asked with a slight smile.

The man cried, "We told you the truth, we never raided the compound. We had NO idea that there were even any Porcuian prisoners there!"

"Liar!" the Corporal screamed. "I saw the bodies! You fuckers mutilated the guards and freed those spies. Who else could have done it hmm?"

"Please, you have to believe me. We cou-" the man's cries were interrupted by a brutal uppercut by the corporal's pistol.

"Do you really think we could have pulled this off?" the other man finally said, rousing the strength to speak. "You've seen our operation here, hell you've probably already wiped us out in Haarstad. Face the realities, you've been duped."

The corporal, unsatisfied with the answers he received, once again began beating the prisoners. In the flurry of his blows he knocked one of the men unconscious while the other simply took the beating in stride - his will completely shattered. An Austrian officer, who had previously remained passively quiet, suddenly walked over to the man and pulled out his pistol. Placing his first shot in the head of the unconscious man, he slowly turned to fire at the second man.

"Go to hell," the resistance fighter muttered before the light left his eyes.

The corporal looked at his superior with a puzzled look. "Herr Lieutenant?"

"He's right," the Austrian stated flatly. "These rag-tag civilians couldn't have pulled it off; not without ground-support from Narvik or elsewhere. No, this attack was much more organized ...and that is what is worrying."

The room once again fell quiet as the gravity of the officer's words sunk in. It did seem that the local resistance was crushed in its infancy here in Haarstad, and any major attack had to have come from without...or within. That left two possibilities: 1) that the Republic had staged the rescue with or without external resistance support, or 2) that elements of the Reichswehr had gone rogue and betrayed their country. Both were troubling instances, yet one was much more manageable.

The officer shook his head and made a call to his superiors back at base before coordinating with fellow units in the city. It appeared that no one had any luck finding anything tying the raid to Haarstad and certainly not from the local resistance. With a terse order, the RSD men hefted the corpses into a canvass covered truck and were gone in a flash. The whole operation lasted no longer than an hour.

OOC: Getting back into the RP with a crawl. Also Porcu, just so you know my last post eons ago was about Pillischammer trying to contact the Porcuian commander if you want to continue that.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

Ariminae, Porcu

It was frightfully cold as President Tarquinius Atratinus strolled across one of the plazas that dotted the Forum. Compared to recent mornings, however, the sun hanged full and unobstructed in the sky. Atratinus paid no attention to members of his personal security detail that kept their distance and could been seen moving around the perimeter. On the far end was a set of stairs which, unsurprisingly, lead to another plaza. Lining this second plaza was a row of small towers upon which stood, proud and stoic, past Porcuian presidents and consuls.

For whatever reason Atratinus' gaze shifted upward until he caught the sight of the first marble statue. The consul, a venerable military leader and avid painter, stood tall, his gaze frozen and fixed off to the distance. At the base of the tower was inscribed only a name and the man's title of consul. Atratinus didn't know why, but his thoughts turned to the shame of not knowing anything further about the man. Not what he did or the opinion of those who came to know him, but what the man believed of himself.

The President had unknowingly halted to study the marble figure. A longtime assistant, who never walked with or trailed the President unless explicitly asked, called out from the opposite end of the plaza.

"Domine? We're already running very close on time. We should continue!"

Atratinus came out of his trance, immediately turned on his heels, and proceeded to continue through the plaza. A larger set of stairs leading to the Parliamentary Complex greeted the President and his personal and security staff. Just as Atratinus got to the top, he slowly slightly to allow his assistant to catch up.

"I want it noted that I would never want myself to be remembered, positively or negatively, in a similar manner as those men down there."

"Opposed to marble?" the assistant replied coyly. "Or simply not enamored with posterity being constantly reminded of you?"

"Perhaps something to that effect." Atratinus said slowly.

"At least you can look forward to a grand resting place."

Without a hint of humor, Atratinus replied, "Grand, yes, but likely not what you're imagining. My grave will be of dirt. Unmarked."

The grin faded from the assistant's face and he ran forward, taking it upon himself to inform the Consilium of the President's arrival - and to distance himself from the President.

. . .

"Praesidis, perhaps we should consider the possibility that matters are beginning to unfold in Norge Septentriones?" Praetor Gnaeus Domitius Ahenobarbus stated sheepishly.

"The situation has been static for months. I find the hunch of one intelligence officer unconvincing, Gnaeus Domitius." Consul Gaius Julius Caesar replied.

"It wasn't him though!" Domitius Ahenobarbus said defiantly.

"Who knows if that Austrian is telling the truth..." Aedile Publius Vibius Pansa added.

"Even if he is telling the truth," Atratinus interrupted. "It doesn't leave us with much recourse."

"Praesidis, an enemy state actively aiding a intranational paramilitary group is damn near a provocation for war!" Aedile and Royal Prince Oppius Decimus Maxentius said.

"Oh, so now they're a «paramilitary» group?" Praetor Publius Cornelius Scipio asked sarcastically. "Just last week they were just «a club of disgruntled conservatives»."

Before the Prince could reply, President Tarquinius Atratinus raised his hands and brought the room under his command once again. "This meeting is hereby concluded. Be sure that this matter is not settled and that events are beginning to move."

Between distrustful and angry looks passed from several colleagues (Decimus Maxentius and Cornelius Scipio included) and the tired yawns of others, the daily morning meeting of the Consilium concluded. Senior Consul Servius Aemilius Cesca was the last person to leave, beside for the President. Aemilius Cesca arrived at the conference room door and turned to find Atratinus still seated at the head of the table.

"Is something the matter, Tarquinius Atratinus?"

"These...stories...just aren't adding up."

"Do you believe Domitius Ahenobarbus? Something as serious as that wouldn't escape the SSR."

"Don't ignore the whispers you overhear in the street, Servius Aemilius." Atratinus turned his gaze to the Consul. There was something different in his expression which Aemilius Cesca couldn't quite place. "You're beginning to understand that now as you tour for the campaign." Atratinus continued.

"So, what? We're to trust that the Austrians have been helping an ultranationalist group within the Republic? To what? Overthrow the government? A coup d'état?"

"When you say it like that it does sound odd for my dear friend Karl." Atratinus replied.

Satisfied, Aemilius Cesca concluded the conversation by stating that he would personally look into the intelligence files. Nodding his approval, Atratinus was left alone. He remained seated quietly for several minutes until his assistant timidly entered the room and called out to him.

"Domine...You have a meeting scheduled with the Governor of Sinae Australi."

Without a word, Atratinus quickly packed away his papers, stood, and exited the conference room.

. . .

Whal
 
No matter how he spun it, he had dishonored his men. He could sleep easily knowing that he had saved the lives of some innocent men, but his treachery had already caused the death of three men (albeit fascists) and there was no saying how many more innocent people may die in their wake – his own men nonetheless. He had already pounded back three drinks by the time his aide entered the office and informed him that he had an urgent call on the other line.

He already knew who it was.

"Yes, Colonel," Pillichshammer answered with a very convincing, yet faked anger. "I was just about to call you. I regret to inform you that we have a rather serious problem.."


Castra Aeolus, Norge Septentriones

Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona was taken aback by the anger emanating from his phone's receiver. He certainly had not expected to hear his Austrian counterpart so worked up.

"What seems to be the problem, General?"
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Whal
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Porcu
Jan 16 2017, 10:00 PM
Castra Aeolus, Norge Septentriones

Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona was taken aback by the anger emanating from his phone's receiver. He certainly had not expected to hear his Austrian counterpart so worked up.

"What seems to be the problem, General?"
Harstaad..

General Pillichshammer froze for a moment, his faked anger subsiding slightly. Had he forgotten what he wished to say to the Porcuian commander on the other end? Or perhaps, was he ashamed to have to lie and blame the man for his own treachery? His thoughts returned to him when he looked at the frightened expression on his aid-de-camp's face. No, the charade must continue, he thought. For their sake.

"As if you do not know, Colonel," the General spat frankly, but with regret. "I had thought you to be an honest man and one with principle! Do you mean to tell me that your government had nothing to do with the raid in Harstaad? That it was solely the actions of the resistance? I must now regretfully inform you that we are now at a very serious impasse. I shall receive direction from Vienna very soon and I'm afraid that any semblance of control you or I had over this incident will very quickly evaporate."

Pillichshammer could sense the confusion emulating from the other side of the line. He felt sicker with each word, yet he had to press on. If he could feign ignorance it would only further stall the Porcuians from suspecting his complacency and therefore solidifying his position against the real danger - his own government's suspicions.

"Now, Ariminae has destroyed any peaceful resolution," He roared, "The Archduke shall not take this lightly!"

----

Hofburg Palace, Vienna...

The Archduke gripped the ends of the wooden table very tightly; so tightly in fact that he half expected the wooden edges to crack under the pressure. The news arriving from Harstaad each day only seemed to become more and more grim. The aging monarch had much on his plate as of late and the debacle with the Porcuians was a sideshow he had hoped could be diverted to an underling, but fate had decided to exacerbate the situation. Karl von Habsburg could allow the Ministry of War to handle the kerfuffle with little more than a few official statements from the Crown such as long as the men were in Austrian custody, but now that they had been "rescued" the Austrian leader was forced to act.

The raid on the Reichswehr compound in Norway had done more than accomplish the freeing of the Porcuian soldiers, it had made the Austrian garrison, the WHOLE Austrian Empire, appear weak. That was something the aging monarch would not tolerate, and could not allow. With a growing insurgency in Bosnia, a possible war with Marslava in Hungary, and the ever present threat of the Austrian Underground, the Archduke needed to project a constant and formidable aura of strength to keep Austria's enemies wary of pressing their luck to far. Gone was a time for empty words...the time had come for the Austrian's to make another move.

"Your Majesty, forgive my boldness," came a comment that interrupted Karl's concentration. "But you really should have let the RSD interrogate and try those men as spies when I suggested it."

Sitting calmly in a plush leather chair, the Reichskanzler sipped at his drink causally after he had spoken. In truth, the news of the raid had not angered Jurgen von Pless as much as he led on in the Reichstag. For too long now, Pless and his supporters in the Adlerite Party had been pressing the Archduke more and more for open war with Austria's historic enemies within the Empire and abroad. Seeing another opportunity to push for a military solution to that end, Pless aimed to move Karl forwards.

Karl eased his grip and turned to face his subordinate. "And that would have surely led to war with the Republic," he said perturbed. "At a time when our forces are not nearly ready to hold them back in Norway, nor are our allies prepared to keep our northern borders secured while we fight the inevitable Marslavan attack to our east."

"You underestimate our strength, Your Majesty," The chancellor placated. "Our forces in Hungary are dug in around strong positions, our forces at home are supplied and ready for an offensive, our submarine production has increased ten-fold, and our missiles silos are nearly in place in and around Harstaad."

"Nearly," Karl repeated, emphasizing his hesitancy to proceed until EVERY piece of his strategy was in place. "You know as much as I, that Austria's war against the republicans can only be assured once each and every Porcuian city is within reach of our missiles. It is the only way to counter the nuclear weapons we are sure exist somewhere within that infernal country."

Von Pless could not disagree with his sovereign on that last point. As long as Austria remained uneven with the Porcuians on the nuclear weapons point, the Empire would need assurances that using them would bring the Republic more hassle than it was worth. The Archduke had often spoke of his plan to use surface to air missiles to threaten Porcu's civilians as a counter to nuclear weapons and many had agreed it remained the best alternative until the Empire's nuclear program could begin uranium enrichment.

"Then perhaps it is time to begin shipping the missiles to Norway?" Pless reasoned aloud.

"It is already done, Reichskanzler," the Archduke smiled. "They are shipping out with the 3rd Fleet from Rijecka in two days along with the 1st Expeditionary Corp."

Pless smiled wide as the Archduke's words began to resonate with him. "You are planning another invasion?"

"Indeed, i do believe it is time to expand our holdings in Norway," Karl's eyes widened. "We can thank our dear good friend President Atratinus and his Norwegian allies for giving us the perfect excuse."
Edited by Whal, Jan 29 2017, 02:56 PM.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

Whal
Jan 29 2017, 02:52 PM
Pillichshammer could sense the confusion emulating from the other side of the line. He felt sicker with each word, yet he had to press on. If he could feign ignorance it would only further stall the Porcuians from suspecting his complacency and therefore solidifying his position against the real danger - his own government's suspicions.

"Now, Ariminae has destroyed any peaceful resolution," He roared, "The Archduke shall not take this lightly!"
Colonel Octavius Dona was flattened. He stammered for a few seconds before falling silent. The Porcuian commander held the receiver tightly against his palm as he called out to a staff member just outside his office. A junior officer came in immediately and the curt discussion between the two proved fruitless in turning up evidence for the Colonel to forward to his Austrian counterpart.

"General, I can assure you that I have not received any word from my superiors in the Directorate-General! Not one! Furthermore, it would not be possible for such an action to have occurred without my knowledge. There must be some misunderstanding!"

Meanwhile, Colonel Octavius Dona scribbled a note to the junior officer and handed it over. The note asked to find Major Valerius Publicola and direct him to contact Arminae. The junior officer left at a run.

As the Colonel awaited the General's reply he began to seriously worry about a formal retaliation from the Austrian state.

= = =

The Major was found easily enough. Having not quite accepted the official story presented by the Porcuian soldiers regarding their escape he had returned to his office and investigated things himself. Several phone calls to various officials within the Army and one to a personal friend within the SSR left him no wiser.

"Perhaps that was actually what happened..." Major Augustus Valerius Publicola thought to himself.

Suddenly, a heavy series of knocks alerted the Major to the presence of a junior officer standing in his doorway.

"What's the matter, Sergeant?"

"Sir, an urgent message from the Colonel."

The junior officer was dismissed upon having handed the note off and it only took Major Valerius Publicola to skim its contents. He quickly sat back down at his desk and reached for the phone. It took a few minutes, several verification steps, more bureaucratic steps, and some patience before the Major was connected with a staff member within the Directorate-General.

"Good evening; I need to speak with General Manius Aemilius Orta."

A gruff voice on the other end replied, "What is the issue?"

"That's none of your concern."

"It is, Major. The General is a busy man and I have to make sure that his time isn't wasted on trivialities. I'm sure you understand."

Major Valerius Publicola lifted his head, closed his eyes, and quietly swore. Then, "I'm calling on behalf of Colonel Tiberius Octavius Dona, who is on the phone with his Austrian counterpart as we speak. The matter is urgent and concerns the escape of Porcuian soldiers from Austrian hands."

"Ahh, yes..." the voice replied. "We received the Colonel's report. Wonderful that our boys made it back safe and sound."

"I couldn't agree more, but the situation is more tense than the Colonel's report might have indicated." Valerius Publicola said. "I need to speak with the General."

After some hesitation the Major was patched through directly to the General, who did not seem content in the slightest.

"Major? To what do I owe this phone call? And why am I not speaking to Colonel Octavius Dona if the matter is so urgent?" the General asked.

"I apologize, Sir, but the Colonel is presently speaking with his Austrian counterpart, a certain General Pillichshammer. I haven't yet directly spoken to the Colonel, but it seems as if the Austrians believe what transpired in Harstaad was the work of Ariminae. Whether SSR or another branch, we received no communication regarding a special ops mission. Perhaps we are mistaken?"

"No, Major, you are correct. What's this about the Austrians accusing us? Of what exactly?"

"My understanding is that the Austrians are stating that Ariminae had a hand in freeing our soldiers from their military installations in Harstaad."

There was silence on the other end for several seconds. "Major, I want to thank you for contacting me. Put yourselves on alert, but just be on the lookout for any funny business from the Austrian lines. I'll be in touch with my superiors just to confirm our non-involvement."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll await your call."

Major Valerius Publicola quickly hung up the phone and then sprinted over to the Colonel's office. He could hear muffled shouting as he arrived at the doorway and politely knocked on the open door to draw the Colonel's attention. The Major shook his head in response to an inquisitive gaze from the Colonel.

"Listen...Listen, General! I can assure you that we had nothing to do with the attack. You must believe me!"

= = =

Ariminae, Porcu

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General Manius Aemilius Orta, the gentleman the Major had spoken with by phone, was resourceful and could be moved into quick action if the situation required it. And this situation certainly qualified.

A series of phone calls had the effect of alerting the highest levels of military and civilian leadership to the increasingly dangerous situation unraveling in a frozen corner of Norway. Both Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix and Gaius Julius Caesar were eventually informed and, together, decided to speak with the President.

Tarquinius Atratinus was at home in the President's residence and quietly looking over a number of stalled legislative proposals. Parliament had apparently decided that its efforts in legislating in the handful of days before the election were better spent on campaigning. Some of the proposals were not considered vital, but a small collection were of a personal interest to the President. He let his mind churn and its gears click in the hopes that an idea would congeal. Alas, any potential progress was nullified by an assistant who entered his study and announced the arrival of the Praetor Cornelius Sulla Felix and the Consul Julius Caesar. The assistant apologized for being unable to stop the two, for they insisted on speaking to the President.

"Yes, well..." Cornelius Sulla Felix began. "Our apologies for bursting in, but a serious matter has come to our attention."

Atratinus look up from the paper spread across his lap with a concerned look. "It certainly must be serious to warrant both of you." He gazed from one to the other before adding, "Am I to take it that our Viennese friends have stepped outside their bunkers in Harstaad?"

"Not yet, at least." Cornelius Sulla Felix said.

"Not exactly." Julius Caesar added. "The commanders in our base outside of Narvik state that the Austrian commander is accusing Ariminae of intervening in the freeing our soldiers previously captured during that reconnaissance mishap."

Atratinus unclasped his hands, which he hand been holding together near his face. They fell slowly to his side. "I approved no such operation."

"We are aware." Cornelius Sulla Felix replied. "I've checked and no such order was given."

"My own opinion is that the Austrians are fabricating this in order to justifiably act in response to a casus belli." Julius Caesar said.

"I think you may be right." Atratinus said gravely. In a single, smooth motion he grabbed all the papers in his lap with one hand and set them aside.

"The two commanders have vociferously denied the charge, but the Austrians are insisting that Ariminae was involved." Cornelius Sulla Felix said. "We have provided orders to the Directorate-General to increase our alertness and readiness level, but wished to consult you for further action."

"Do we send a communiqué to Vienna?" Julius Caesar asked.

"No." Atratinus replied immediately. "The Archduke has all that he needs to act upon. Our denial will be met with laughter."

"Should we order the First Legion north?" Cornelius Sulla Felix asked.

"Not at the moment, but prepare the Legion for that possibility. If needed, move them outside of Narvik. I believe the area is mountainous and heavily forested, so moving the Legion under darkness would provide some cover. The Second Legion should be sufficient in holding the Austrians, but having a second legion sit nearby would be good." Atratinus said. "Also, are there any intelligence reports about Austria?"

"Nothing is confirmed, but communication traffic has sharply increased in the past few days and our satellites suggest a buildup of naval forces in Istria." Julius Caesar said.

"Close Mons Calpe." Atratinus replied.

"I'm sorry?" Cornelius Sulla Felix asked out of confusion.

"Close off western egress from the Mediterranean to the Austrians."
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