What have we done to deserve heaven? If it is our place, why are we here? We are unjust and terrible creatures, and our hell is to ever look at heaven and demand that we be allowed entry. Utopia is heaven- Socialism is heaven’s gates, yet Heaven is no place for humans, is it? We are allowed our glimpse of paradise, yes, but we shall never claim our dreams. We would suffocate as a fish does out of the cold seas.
-Charlot Doumer, “We Are of the Night”

-----

It was afternoon on Monte Nocca- a lovely place for most who came here in the beginning of summer, but the one held in highest regard upon it was thinking of being elsewhere.

Vittoria Bonaventura had returned to the mountain once again- that lonely clutch where one half of her bloodline hailed from- and if mother and grandfather were to be believed, they had been there since before even memory of mankind, but to her that was just the Vitelian disease and Mosshead arrogance intermingling, in a way she refused to let fester in her head. The Judge had been merciful in making it blonde like father’s. Yet that did not deter grandfather from calling Vittoria by her new alias, and more comfortably than he spoke her name. Remiel. The same name was what she was summoned by now, further up the stony trail.

“Don’t drag your feet, Remiel,” her tutor in mystic lore and art said from ahead, his voice seeming more like the wind that blew over the mountain trees than particularly human, through that mask of his. He loomed as high as a peak too, in a way. “If this is to be your last lesson for a while, then you should pay close attention. Get a good score, heh heh. Prepare you for where you’re headed.”

“Whatever you’re having me do,” Vittoria said, “I don’t think any of it’ll have anything to do with the Azure Halls. The Dawn and the coming days in its light.”

“If that’s so,” Zeitgeist said as he walked slowly, his steps cloistered by his coat as though a curtain rose and fell on each foot forward. “You’re off, soon, to have your head filled with the dreams of others. To, heh heh, be told how to be wise, Remiel.”

“As though you’re against the concept of education,” Vittoria grumbled back, amusing herself with her teacher’s pace by weaving back and forth amongst the stones on each side of the mountain trail, “Utopia is the future, the inevitability. I might as well be an expert in it, especially if I want to help father. I can’t be of any use if I don’t know all there is to know. You said yourself that this tradition and mysticism is trapped in the past.”

“Did I? Heh heh. Well, Remiel, you know of the past that is more distant than Nauk Imperial, than Sversk, recorded history beyond legend. Those people came as closer to Utopia than any today can imagine, and even so, they are nothing but, heh, dust and whispers now, by the very hands and minds that made their paradise. Measure your expectations, I say.”

“Oh, what do you know,” Vittoria still grumbled, “There’s plenty of expectations being smashed apart these days. Maybe you should measure your heh heh expectations, huh?”

“Heh heh.” Zeitgeist didn’t address that, and instead seemed to feel about in the air with a single hand, before turning on his heel. “We’re here.” The edge of a sheer cliff- a bowl in banded rock like a nest, but nothing lived within. Come rain, it might be a pool, but it was dry and dark as burnt sand. “Go on and try and find it. Call it a parting gift, for a time. Since you’ll be distracted anyways.”

Of course he wouldn’t say what it was. “This some old date spot?” Vittoria asked, “It’s a nice view, I guess.”

“Heh heh. Date spot. Are you surrendering to the passions of youth, finally? Then let me advise you to remain chaste. There is a reason that all sorceresses of folk record are lonely maidens.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Vittoria said sarcastically, “How about you tell me why, instead of stringing me along with riddles? I’m an adult, it’s the least you could do if you actually care.”

Zeitgeist put a finger to his masked chin, and nodded. “Fine. You know that the Presence of Man and Woman is different, of course. What is the main difference between a man and a woman, you think? Heh heh. What can one do that the other absolutely cannot? Harbor and grow life within. As Presence is indisputably the energy of living, this has ever allowed the fairer sex to, heh, have finer control. A sorceress is a rarity, a legend. One who manipulates presence without binding, who is also male, is unknown even in mystic record. But there is a price. That control comes from that empty place, where no life has formed within. It makes it of incredible adaptability. If life forms within you, made by another…” Zeitgeist pointed to Vittoria’s abdomen- and she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. “Then your Presence is irrevocably changed. It is why maiden’s blood is the precious catalyst that it is. Including in that one art you’ve made much use of. So be careful. Or, heh heh, find the Rites of Binding, and such a thing will not matter anyways.”

Vittoria turned away. “You’re sounding like my brother with all that crap.”

“Better him than your mother, heh heh.”

Zeitgeist had a point. Vittoria’s mother saw little value in Vittoria going to school, though she wouldn’t fight against it. What point did a woman have in learning philosophy, she had mused, instead of the practical? Her idea of practicality being homemaking, of course, something any of Vittoria’s peers that she respected turned their noses up at. With technology moving forward as it was, what need would there be for the old ways of housekeeping, soon enough?

“There is another way, of course,” Zeitgeist said after a few quiet moments, knitting some glowing thread between his leatherbound fingers, “Since it’s distracting you so much from the lesson. Find the rites of binding, and advance to the next level of your mastery, your senses. Though I doubt you’ll get at them without the advocacy of the council of prunes, heh heh, and certainly not with all the distraction of lectures for the endlessly optimistic.”

“You’re already distracting me plenty from your own lesson.”

“Heh heh.” Zeitgeist advanced towards the edge of the cliff, “Speaking of, the test is now. Look around again.”

Vittoria glanced back to the mountain path, then turned all the way round to it in shock. It had dissolved into a grey and white sea of fog so thick it may as well have been stone.

“I’ll be back by noon tomorrow,” Zeitgeist said as he stretched and did squats in place, preparing for what he affectionally dubbed a hop. “If I can’t find you, you’re probably dead, but you’ve dealt with worse just fine, heh heh. So wake up, tighten your belt and grit those teeth, heh.”

“Wait-” But Zeitgeist had already launched himself off the mountain and into the distance. Vittoria clenched her fists and kicked a rock into the fog. “Brilliant. Yeah, I’m sure you’ll explain why I’m an entire day late, you masked macaque…”

She waited for an hour, lost in thought, before frustratedly kicking another rock. Instead of vanishing into fog, the spinning stone clattered off of something…very close. Vittoria froze- squinted into the mist, and saw…a new cliff wall. Within it, a gate, and as she moved closer, old lettering.

Here rests the tranquil pool of the Blood of the Proud Giant, she recognized only a few of the ancient words, but enough of them to understand. Particularly the references to things that were regional in nature. Stay well away from this Beacon of Antiquity.

Vittoria had never been very good at obeying directives to stay out of where she should not be.

-----

It was morning, on the opening day of the Tre Acque National Conference. The resort town was unassuming, the privilege of staying there difficult to earn by its eccentric landholder. In the first place, Tre Acque was a settlement made to be away from the already present commercial riverside centers while also able to access and observe them. Most now here would have come for the very first time.

The main event was painstakingly arranged by a long list of Vitelia’s most influential persons, the meeting was meant to decide how to solve Vitelia’s numerous troubles. A goal everybody could agree upon, but nobody was under the assumption that all parties involved would come away happy with the results. This would be there best chance to influence the coming days though, so there was not a single special interest that lacked representation at this place, even if they could not attend in person.

Tre Acque’s grand manor hosted the national conference, the theoretical home of the town’s patron, but his identity was vague and he himself was rarely home, even at this important moment he was assumed absent. The surroundings were as distinguished and storied as could be expected for a Vitelian place of importance. Built in the style of the Second Empire, with flairs that purposefully clued the truth of it being built late last century. The architectural design was old, but everything else was new. The curtains and carpets were of the decade, and even the stone tiling and gallery columns were as young as school children. The very oldest in attendance could remember when the hall’s foundations were being planned, and they bore the least reverence for the place of anybody inside.

Most made a grand entrance and a show of socializing, but a pair of men walked out of the empty servants’ smoking room having entered through the side of the manor rather than the wide and inviting front. One noble Di Avolo, and his associate (not of noble bearing but still of respectable status and means) Arancio, to whom the former was reciting the unspoken reason why there was a great meeting being had at all.

“I wonder what they’ll call this in the future,” Di Avolo mused, toying with the cap of his snuffbox, “This revolution. It’s hardly what the founding theorists preached, nor the daydreams of the restless underclass and downtrodden. The powerful meet in one place and decide what to do, except this time, they will be magnanimous and benevolent. Isn’t that funny to you, Arancio?”

The young fop frowned and thought for the best answer. “Well, Di Avolo, if they did do that, would that not be the best outcome? It depends on what the real goals are, besides making things better...?”

“This movement is the mechanism to shed Vitelia of all that impedes it,” Di Avolo said, like he was speaking history instead of a plot, “For too long, it has been shackled to its past. The best have invariably sought to imitate instead of exceed. In the years to come, they will finally be cast down and replaced with what shall build the true Future. The best part is, they will create the stairs on which to ascend from their own bodies, and we who come after need simply walk up to the throne we have prepared.”

“The revolution underway is not to your liking, I take it, Di Avolo?” Arancio asked with a small grumble, thinking he had been entirely reasonable. “Yes, I know why Di Alba would rather it not be this way, but I understand his reasons being shallow. Not yours. Is it merely the people doing it?”

“The Revolution and the People are inseparable, dear Arancio, the problem is the pace. The smoothness. The compromise. It is what some small few feared the most. That the fire is doused by quenching mouthfuls of water, and the change is an increment to be held out of reach. This cannot be so, not if you believe in the Dawn whatsoever.”

“But you maintain your position and prestige this way, do you not?” Arancio pressed, not understanding. “Or do you think that’s the way it’ll be no matter what happens?”

“It would be. Self-sacrifice is only noble if you cannot accomplish more without it, no?” Di Avolo chuckled softly to himself. “I would be comfortable in the continuation of Vitelia’s stasis, but not content. That is why I tug on the threads of conspiracies to unite them behind their true common cause. Otherwise, they would stew forever in the same sort of discontent I would.”

“…And if those at the top now find out?” Arancio said, some nervousness creeping in as he thought about what he was being told. Also at the crowd being revealed as the two walked on into the main hall, the sensitive aspects of their conversation soon having to be abandoned even from the safety of being a floor and stairs up.

“Oh, but they wouldn’t, would they, dear Arancio?” Di Avolo said coolly, “And they will not. Nothing is unable to be denied. Nobody is truly being puppeteered. The crow hardly needs the scent of blood to draw the beasts to a wounded animal. No, everything is already in motion. Only a fool gloats before victory has touched their fingers.”

Arancio gulped, but was not inclined to disbelieve his mentor’s confidence. He saw another sight that could not help but impose, even so, down on the ground floor. “Di Avolo, over there. It is Leone. You…wanted to speak with him? Do you know one another?”

Di Avolo smiled quietly. “Not yet, Arancio. But fate will be quite familiar with him, when we have met a few more times. Now away with you. Gratify the egos of some of the Di Portaltramanto party folk. I’d rather they not interrupt the progress of the Stato Futuro.”

-----

June 14, 1927- Tre Acque, the Kingdom of Vitelia

You are Palmiro Bonaventura, Premier Executive of the Eastern Vitelian Revolutionary League, to only name your most significant aspect, and the one in which capacity you were presently attending a most momentous occasion.

The other accolades you could claim were not ones that were reflective of power and influence, but you were prouder of them. You can from a rural farm and graduated the Azure Halls with a degree in History and Modern Philosophy. You were a veteran of wars, a successful commander, though admittedly no tactical mastermind with the defeats you had to admit to. Father of eight, soon to be nine, though for now you could only admit to one less, from another mother. Patron and commissioner of the Aurora Legion, a band of Dawn-seeking mercenaries that had steadily earned fame in both recent political violence in Vitelia as well as the true battlegrounds of the Northern Wars, and now quite a formidable force, easily the match if not superior of the Royal Vitelian Army itself. Along with your deeds done while leading and expanding the Eastern Revolutionary Leagues, you doubted many at the Tre Acque National Conference truly were your equal besides Leo, but that would not be easily admitted to. Most would only be obligated to respect your newest political position, silently intimidated by the rest. Such an advantage was surely critical at this conference of Vitelia’s power brokers both small and great.

Only, you were in no good condition for it, only choosing not to retire out of the import of attending. To call it illness might not be incorrect- you hadn’t experienced this until after that fateful day that was your last in the Emrean War. Yet in the near seventeen years since, it had never been quite this bad.

Oftentimes, the voices intruded arbitrarily, and even then in words only heard as though carried through the air on radio waves. In other times they were phantoms, or contained themselves to dreams. They would grant you peace, forced to, but not now. You were tormented in this most important time near constantly, the voices stirring such debate between themselves so ferociously that it proved difficult to focus on reality. It had made the first day of the Tre Acque Conference completely useless, as far as personal impact went, as you struggled to even pay attention to what was happening, and returning to the hotel with Leo as though you’d gone out on a drunken bender instead of attending the making of history.

Yet you kept that close to your chest. All your effort had gone into keeping anybody from knowing what was going on. Rumor had it recently that a few of your supposed allies, after all, were seeking to unseat you. Kill you? No, but discredit and demean, and by consequence of that take your position of power. Leo had warned you against allowing a legitimate route for that to happen, but you hadn’t anticipated the attempts starting the very year you ceded such a right. Not that you weren’t aware of such simple and base motivations as jealousy and resentment, but whom you’d heard it from…

Cesare and yourself had been out last night for a small drink. He was here, surprisingly, and had wanted a private meeting. You both had gone to a small old tavern, ostensibly closed, but open for the two of you. Nobody else, not even the owner or any workers, was within. The lights were on, but the door was locked.

“I can’t say exactly who yet,” Cesare had said as he sipped at the wine he had gotten for both of you, a bottle he’d said he’d been saving for years, and had finally found again. Metaphorically. It hadn’t actually been his until very recently. “But I know that a conspiracy is preparing for the end of your political career. Or at least a demotion.” He pointed down, “The youths, the new leagues, are frustrated with the lack of action. The growth in power of your faction had enflamed their ambitions, and their feelings of invincibility seem to go unused.”

“Sabato,” you guessed, “He is not news to me. I’m not altogether impressed. I’ve made my own protégé representative of the youth, and I think he will outdo him.”

“The wider sentiment remains, though,” Cesare pointed up, “And those you’ve been knocking about and out of their comfort and prestige? They would help them. Some of them are young too, after all. Perhaps even reformed, but still unfriendly to you in private. Then there are those in the Utopian Front who resent your more forceful actions. Not that they have everything in common, but they seek to use each other until the greater threat to them is dealt with, you see.”

“It is rather early for this, by my reckoning,” you said glumly as you drank the dry, complex wine, a pale white with a forward front of mineral and melon, but a tingling sweet note in its finish. History had plenty of revolutionary acts and campaigns before they were even called such, and oftentimes, a power struggle had ensued when opportunity struck. “I don’t suppose Leo has problems like this.”

“His base is far more secure. He’s been here for much longer, Bonetto. You and I are newly returned to our home.” He raised his glass to you. “I’ll try to feed anything I find out through your Analysis Department. Until then, though…to the Future.”

“To Vitelia,” you said as you accepted the simple toast.

The night after you had a series of particularly awful nightmares and internal ramblings and debates. Especially from the most aggressive voice that could never decide if it loved or hated you.

When you rose the next morning, early, ready to have a better second day of the conference, you instead saw three phantoms waiting for you as soon as you had dressed. None had defined faces, but their shapes were familiar. Sometimes they impersonated people from your life, but mostly, they were these shadows, silhouettes barely discernable, though their voices were unmistakable.

“We were not finished talking.” This voice was passionate, obsessive, often infuriated or otherwise excited. There was nothing that mattered more than the glory of the Revolution and how to bring about the Dawn. It had absolutely no scruples, but thought itself pure in at least one aspect. “Do you really think that there’s a point, wasting your time here? You are not some wealthy heiress who is an aspiring men’s toilet attending her first sausage soiree, you are a bringer of the dawn and conqueror of the old order. Rouse yourself to go and do the one thing that is useful in this place…”

“Yes, which would be to reassure the people that their lives are not about to fall into chaos! Like it or not, the King is in attendance, as are bishops. Will the Revolution consume the Cathedra as well? I should hope not, or our cause is condemned by the Judge himself.” This voice was the definition of holier-than-thou. Always talking down, even in the rare case of praise.

The last voice was pleasant, in its own way, with at least being reassuring, but in the way that dulled the senses. “They have a point, do they not? There is more to our life, so much more, than listening to old men ramble about what is their due. Even if Leo wishes us to be here, would we rather have this future than one with what we have already made?”

This could not continue.

>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Even if it meant not having a voice there, you couldn’t deny being unable to be of any use.
>Focus everything on being present, and holding it together. Even if it meant not being a decisive presence, it would be better than abandoning the crucial meeting.
>Other?

Previous Threads-

Prologue:
Thread 1- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5687489/
Thread 2- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5771752/
Thread 3- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2023/5810248/
Thread 4- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5879252/
Thread 5- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/5944961/

Not Prologue:
Thread 1- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6120387/
Thread 2- https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6201939/

Twitter is @scheissfunker for updates and various other things- mostly cheesecake pictures, really.
I'll have to get back into the swing of things and flex the writing and thinking muscles after such a long hiatus, but it's good to get this shoved out the door. Even if I missed my self imposed deadline due to conking out in the middle of the day.

>>6270545
>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.

>>6270545
Damn, where's Yena when you need her? I doubt she'd actually have magic mosshead mountain medicine, that isn't 50 ccs of backshots, but something helpful that doesn't leave Bonetto exposed to getting got by the opposition would be nice.

Oh well. Better to leave us open to attack than continue in this state if simply dialing in isn't an option.

>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.

>>6270545
>Other?
>Talk to them and demand to know what they want with us and why they haunt us.
Madness, isn't it?

>>6270545
>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.
I do shudder to think what passes as "medicine for the mind" in this era.

>>6270545
>>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.

>>6270545
>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.
Also can we communicate with the voices, if we ask do they answer? Maybe we can make a deal for them to stfu during the conference and resume their yapping after.

Good to have you back tanq, i missed The Revolutionary, im not gonna lie.

>>6270545
>Focus everything on being present, and holding it together. Even if it meant not being a decisive presence, it would be better than abandoning the crucial meeting.
>Other?
>Order the voices to hold their quarrels until the conference is over
I don't want a doctor to dull our mind with whatever quack syrup passes for medicine. Besides, we were warned that people are trying to undermine us. Can we really find a trustworthy doctor at this point, someone who won't spill the beans? I don't want our enemies to gain additional ammunition to use against us.

>>6270545
>>Focus everything on being present, and holding it together. Even if it meant not being a decisive presence, it would be better than abandoning the crucial meeting.
I don't want to find out whatever counts for schizo meds in this setting, so our only option is to tell our three spirits to go fuck themselves, or at least wait until christmastime.

>>6270545
>Focus everything on being present, and holding it together. Even if it meant not being a decisive presence, it would be better than abandoning the crucial meeting.

I think this is key:
>not being a decisive presence

I think we'd need to come to terms eventually that the dawn will move on without us. If we are to stay an influential figure forever then we'd just be a tyrant who refuses to stand down (no better than aristocrats?)

The future of the dawn are the youths. We need to start practicing the soft power of influencing from the shadows.

If this meeting is a taste of how ineffectual we are becoming in the bigger scheme, then great! Let it prompt us to continue to mold some additional upstarts, so we have more eggs in more baskets. It is better for our long term safety/health if we're considered to be sidelined while secretly still exerting influence via other people. You probably have some other end game in mind, but he has to see that the tide of the revolution will sweep out of his grasp. Maybe Leo is the opposite and wants to keep it firmly in his grasp, which will lead to his tragedy.

Anyways, welcome back boss!

TLDR we need to start attaching some strings if we want to be able to pull on them later.

>>6270942
>I think we'd need to come to terms eventually that the dawn will move on without us
Thats reformist talk. We are not a reformer of the system, we are The Revolutionary Man, we are the revolution.n
None of those young scumbags would be here if we didn't wrestle Larencci out of the hands of the old noble fools, money grabbers and traitors.
We must galvanize our position as the eastern pillar of the Revolution just like Leo did.

>>6270545
>>Find a doctor with some sort of medicine for the mind. Surely there is some sort of medicine for this- and you needed to be at your best, or at least functional, in the coming days.
We cannot be caught lacking.

>>6270565
>>6270577
>>6270726
>>6270779
>>6270813
>>6271198
Trust the medical profession, as the problems of the now are better solved by the theories of the future, no?

>6270619
>6270813
>6270840
Attempt to engage in communication.
>Also can we communicate with the voices, if we ask do they answer?
They regularly engage in conversation, and do respond. Though they don't necessarily care for if you think something is done being discussed.
Also they don't reply to internal monologue in this state so talking to them makes you look like a crazy person, which you aren't, right?

>>6270840
>>6270848
>>6270942
Do not trust mere potions made of whim to aid you- especially in this time of mistrust. All you have to do is be in attendance, and that is what you'll do...

Updating.

>6270942
>TLDR we need to start attaching some strings if we want to be able to pull on them later.
You certainly do have some people that are yours, but will they continue to be yours if you aren't above them? A thought for future decisions.

Not to have a bad omen right at the start, but I ended up spending today before work catching up on a lot of sleep debt, so the update won't be out until pretty late tonight.

Normally, addressing the specters would make you look mad, but you had the privacy of a room. “Why must you torment me now? Were my dreams not enough for you?” You demanded of the three, “Make your demands or let me be. At least for the next two weeks.” Though there was no guarantee it would only take that long. Vitelian politics were many things, but between the upper classes they could never be described as swift and decisive.

“And what is the benefit to you and I?” The aggressive one flared righteously, “You are half-asleep without me. Distracted by a thousand concerns you have no reason to pay the slightest attention towards. It is finally enough.”

“Since when have I been your enemy? How can one be an enemy to themselves, if they are acting morally and with respect to their betters? The Abyss is filled with the myopic and arrogant. Do you not trust your conscience, that you would demand silence of it?”

Only the one most consistently aligned with your happiness seemed even the slightest bit repentant, though still indignant. “Is it so terrible to be reassured? You know that our silence, you and I’s, has never been a reason to rejoice.”

You shook a finger at each in turn as you made your opinion clear. “You do not hold power over me. If you will not leave, then I will banish you myself.”
This declaration only resulted in heckling that was ignored as you left to make good on that threat. The sun was not quite out, and nobody was wakeful or watching at this hour- ideal. You dressed yourself modestly, identifying fashion the new normal of this place, and went seeking your cure.

-----

It was a day later- another day wasted for the Conference, but hopefully the last, as you were directed to aid for your condition. It was difficult considering how much you had to conceal, and you sensed that your main consultation was most frustrated when you told him a spread of different symptoms that you needed mitigated.

“I don’t know, Signore Bonaventura,” a doctor vaguely affiliated with the League told you, when you surreptitiously visited, early in the morning and before any were comfortably awake. He was one of a few medical professionals here, with plenty more being present than usual considering the age and conditions of many influential attendees. “It seems that there’s more going on than simple lack of energy or bad dreams. We’re hardly trying to balance humors these days, you know. I can give you Luminal, some science suggests it can treat the effects of mania, but besides that, perhaps you are merely stressed.”

“I have no reason to believe I have any sort of mania,” you declared firmly, “And you will not speak of that theory of yours to anybody.”

The doctor gave you a skeptical look, but sighed in resignation. “If you say so. In that case, I recommend Luminal. It should suppress symptoms of anxiety and stress, which a man like you certainly has no shortage of. You are not already taking anything for that, are you? Corallium? Heroin?”

“Nothing. But I will have both of your recommendations.” Frankly, when you were around your wife, Yena, she had her ways of keeping your edge off. She was not here, though. Too much to do at home. Too precarious a situation to drag over everybody with you. Too exploitable as a route to attack your Vitelian-ness, as no enemies of yours were unaware of the years you’d spend abroad in green-hair country, raising an ever-expanding brood of what the cruelest broadsheets called half-blooded mountain mongrels. It was a concern for some allies as much as political enemies.

It was all ridiculous of course, and hardly a credible matter to critique you with considering any mountain blood in your family had long been in Vitelia’s lands anyways, but there had been no need to complicate the already tense matters going on. At least, until the recent troubles with your mind and senses…

The conference was hardly the only thing on your mind. To the north, your Aurora Legion was wrapping up its time in an active war, while to the south, plans were under way to seize an island of evil from the degenerate western Paellans in what would undoubtedly be a huge international incident no matter how well the operation went. Beyond that, two of your children were entering higher education soon. Vittoria, your eldest, would be attending the Azure Halls of Lapizlazulli just like her father, the same city the rest of the immediate family and friends lived in, but your son Lorenzo would be going across the continent, to far off northern Naukland, to a prestigious engineering school- but he was also only fifteen years old. An academic prodigy, no doubt, but he was young, and wasn’t the most gregarious young man, either. Even with a trusted escort in the form of a Legion trooper that could no longer fight, you had to worry as much as you could be proud.

…All in all maybe you could use some reinforcement.

With a change of money and a stowing of a small bag within your coat’s inside pocket, you slunk back to your hotel through the shadows of this small city. Tre Acque was no Donom Dei, but to sneak around in unknown territory did nothing for the state of your mind- the shapes in the shadows, however, turned out to be only too familiar.

“My lion,” a shade of your wife slipped out of the small darkness of the paving stones’ cracks, and grew into a perfect image of her when she was young, when she had only borne you but one child, and your memory was so precise that you were suddenly aware of just how much and how many ways your dear Yena had aged beside you. “What are you doing here, so far from home? Come back, we have so much to build together.”

“I will, I have to-” You shook your head, knowing this was not real. “How dare you wear that mask?” You silenced yourself, wary of any listeners, but the specter was not so polite.

“A mask? Is that what love is to you now? Do you know what you have done to me, Palmiro? Do you think I would have been raped, were it not to wound you? Would I have been held at gunpoint, made friends only to see them slaughtered, were it not for your own reasons? Yet I followed you everywhere, went where you wished, uprooted myself to fling myself where you wished. When does my life begin, Palmiro? When can I think back to your curse and promise atop the Watcher’s Peak, and see past the contradiction? What use is a dream of a perfect future when you let the life you have now pass by, unlived?”
Your hand had gone to the more powerful of the medicines, in blind hope it would silence this most agonizing phantasm, before it summoned equally cruel comrades, like it always did.

It took time. You had to shut your eyes and ears to the voices. Yet they did fade.

Blissful and empty silence, but only because it was drowned in the fog that descended over your wits.

-----

The third day of the conference- the first two days had merely been ceremonial, largely, and it might have stayed that way for a week if Revolutionary League representatives hadn’t made a fuss about hurrying things along. It was a vital delay for you nevertheless. This time, when you attended, there was no long dead friends making their voices known, no imaginary figureheads vying for attention, and most vitally, no people that were actually, also having facsimiles conjured from your mind.

The Leo that walked in at your side was the one of now, not the one of the Azure Halls that he had sometimes been replaced with. He did not have the neat and tied black hair of his youth- his hairline had receded so rapidly, he had now shaved his head in totality- a cut that many of his devotees had duplicated in solidarity. Long and groomed hair, as they claimed, was vain and wasteful. Yena would have heartily disagreed, but the youth were now a generation apart from you.

“You’re more sure on your feet today, Bonetto,” Leo said with a pat on your shoulder as you ascended the stairs to the Tre Acque Grand Manor, earlier than most other attendees planned to be there, “Did you call your wife here to put more pep in your step?”

“If only,” you said, “No, I got some medicine for…energy.”

“So your wife is here.” Leo smiled, and shook his head. “No, I get it. All our youth got spent fighting, and we have to dig up more from other places. But if you want my opinion, weightlifting gives a better invigoration than anything that comes in a pill, as long as you mind that we’re not invincible anymore.”

Anymore. You touched the scar on your head, from that fateful final day you’d been in the great war against the Reich. Remembered that Leo, for all his service as Arditi and all his heroism, had not been seriously wounded in combat even once. Any wounds he had taken were so superficial they had long vanished. One phantom you’d seen of him had been when you had been on the same battlefield, long ago, but after the terrible first battle. When you were of tanks and he was of Arditi. He was dirty, his uniform dirty, his eyes tired, but his body young- and even then, you couldn’t see a battle damage anywhere in spite of the blood clearly proving he had triumphed over a foe.

A past man whose silent gaze had awoken something slumbering fitfully, but now, you wouldn’t have to see him and recall again.

You and Leo went to the rotunda early, where a ring of seats and tables, all of red lacquered wood and crimson cloth, had been perched in an ascending pair of semicircles dividing the round room into quarters, the oculus in the dome above painting the ground between the two sides with the stained-glass image of a garden of a rainbow’s breadth of flowers. Yet this space had not been enough, so the rest of the circular room was crammed full of hastily procured chairs not near as fancy. Small talk was exchanged while the rest of the attendees filtered in over the next couple of hours- and with your head clearer, you could follow on who Leo knew and who he had heard of, and you recognized more people that you had failed to before, in the midst of delusions.

Every Duke was present, of course, including the deposed and disgraced one that had formerly reigned over Agria, surely still seething with hatred against Leo. The Crown Prince, Qaercio, was readily recognizable by the wide berth everybody gave him. He was around the same age as you and Leo, and standing in for his old and often enfeebled father, who was either in poor health or shy in a way that his former dynamic self would have been quite disappointed with. Qaercio was an echo of that dynamic, progressive king- but his father clearly held him back in a way that Lucius had not had to suffer in his long reign.

There were plenty of less important figures made to sit in the spare seats, but nobody here was truly insignificant. Even coming here at all required one to have connections.

Finally, proceedings began, this time with an abbreviated introduction and welcome, as the first discussion was launched into near immediately, like it had been just missed last time, not that you would have known at the time.

“The subject of discussion I wish to present to the conference,” the speaker, a later-middle aged lord of Interres named Count Di Grancreppaccio said, “is one that I am sure has been on our minds since the beginning of this very year. As far back as I can remember, as early in the Kingdom of Vitelia’s records I can find, there has been but one army. The Vitelian Royal Army, of course, defender of our nation and its peoples. A storied organization whose roots go back to the great Saint Augustus, yet now there claims to be a second army of Vitelia. So it calls itself, The Army for the Salvation of Vitelia. Tell me, tell us all, anybody, just who this army serves? They are not subordinate to the King. I myself sent many missives to known leaders in this Army for Salvation, and not a one answered to a demand to swear any oath of loyalty to the King and Kingdom. Is that not strange, venerable attendees of this conference?”

You were not called upon specifically to answer- another young man did, who you recognized as Forte Sabato. Handsome, strong voiced and loud lunged, you would rather your own Pescatore had raised the objection, but the brash young man had nothing if not a tendency to be the first to shout. “What a load of dusty dung! You nobles all have your own armies, your Household troops, and you can’t tell me that they’ll follow the word of any man but yourselves! The Royal Army’s purpose isn’t to obey the whims of the throne, is it? You said what its purpose was just now, why can only one group aspire to that, especially when the other fails to accomplish that very purpose!” For his age, he was charismatic, and he had a dashing handsomeness that might have served him well were this place full of young women, but the people here were not the sort who saw and heard him and came away impressed into blind admiration.

“And who are you?” Came the quick retort from elsewhere in the rotunda- the man who stood up was a younger man but dressed in the silks and gold thread of the landed aristocracy. “What family are you of? What rank have you earned? What, even, is your name, that you presume that you are the one being asked?”

“I am-”

“I do not care, whoever you are!” The rhetorical question snapped shut before the defiant answer could be claimed, “We all know who created this Army for the Salvation of Vitelia, and he is not you. He is Palmiro Bonaventura, the Premier Executive of the Eastern Revolutionary Leagues,” spoken like the words left trails of slime on his lips.

The incensed speaker went on, “Who here has read the documents outlining the stated powers of this man? Decree Six of the Revolutionary Council’s constitution? For those who do not know, they include the explicit complete command of the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia, as well as any militant Revolutionary Leagues! So it is to him that this question of loyalty and purpose ought be asked!”

“A great idea,” Di Grancreppaccio sneered as he regained the reins, “Rather than asking the outspoken youth themselves, who clearly have little idea of who to be loyal to besides their own ambitions, who else to ask but the one they are clearly most loyal to? To phrase it clearly and completely, Signore Bonaventura, does the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia swear fealty to serving the Kingdom, and its King? If so, then you will not hesitate to declare it without ambiguity now. Elsewise, his majesty the Crown Prince should feel no remorse in immediately placing you under arrest by his royal authority!”

A clever rhetorical attack. Though you knew King Lucius was not firm and bold enough any longer to throw the dice at trapping you in prison, you carefully considered if he might allow somebody to do it for him. The actual threat was what you might say for your allies. Whether you answered one way or the other, you would be damaging your own cause.

This speaker must not have had much respect for the Azure Halls’ debating scene, or else he would have known that you were well acquainted with this sort of false choice. Heavy silence and murmuring followed as you stood. You were the son of shepherds and small land tenants- but unlike with Sabato, this was not mentioned. Mention of your ascent was higher praise than the place quite some here had been merely born into. Good thing you were…mostly, awake.

>What else could be said? Had you acted against the King, against Vitelia, against any besides those who acted against her people? Not everybody had forgotten the kind of man the King once was. Would they rather the beacon of hope be from people like the Red Garden?
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.
>Why do they feel like they can address you and expect answers from you, when you hardly knew who they were? Request another answer this. Somebody whose star you might support, if the truth was that your own ascent had prevented others… (Who do you defer the right of response to?)
>Other?

>>6271865
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.

>>6271865
>Why do they feel like they can address you and expect answers from you, when you hardly knew who they were? Request another answer this. Somebody whose star you might support, if the truth was that your own ascent had prevented others… (Pescatore, I suppose. Not sure who else is on "our side" that's actually here.)

The counter misdirect would be the answer I'd have Benetto give, but I do like the idea of leaving these lower level jabs and snipes to our guys.
The naying and braying of prized pigs doesn't concern us. If someone actually important has an important question, Benetto will answer. Otherwise we literally have dudes for this...at least I think we do. We should. Kinda poor planning on our part if Benetto doesn't.

>>6271865
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.
Appeasement never works. We can't let them think we're weak or easily swayed.

>>6271865
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.

I would put emphasis on how the lives of the population under our "infuence" have improved.
Secondly aknowledge that we are the most important man of the Eastern Revolution, but demand respect be shown to our members present, let our camp know we present a united front.

>>6271865
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.
"It is in the nature of the nobility to ruffle it's feathers over oaths and fealties while their own subjects irk out a pitiful existence under the shadows of their opulence. The ASV does what a younger version of our King would've loved, and that is to uplift our people and safeguard them from those who would exploit them, to bring a Vitelia to them golden, renewed and strong. The ASV offers action and great deeds to the King, all in service of Vitelia, compared to the paltry words of those who live from their ancestor's glory and the misery of their subjects."

Something along these lines maybe, the ASV is a force of modernization and Vitelian uplifting, compared to the pettiness of the nobles. Also, this man is from Interres? Remind him who brought peace and stability to the province.

>>6271865
>>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.
These nobles swear oaths just to hear themselves talk.

>>6271865
>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.

Azure Halls power activated!

>>6271865
>>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.

>>6271865
>>Answering this question was pointless. Address this misdirection with one of your own. How many of the nobility and the owners of capital strangle Vitelia rather than aid it? What have they done to defend and enrich her? Actions, not words, were the indication of true loyalty.

>>6271880
>>6271927
>>6272066
>>6272099
>>6272218
>>6272313
>>6272334
>>6272376
And what have you done for Vitelia, besides bark about what is and isn't good for her? If they are having trouble finding an actual object of contention, you'll help them find it, though they won't like it for sure.

>>6271926
Throw this one elsewhere to the room- it should be easy enough.

Updating.

Sleep debt caught up with me right before I finished writing.
Soon though, now.

What a waste of time such a demand was, considering you weren’t going to entertain that plan to entrap you. Instead, you asked another question entirely- to answer a misdirection with its own kind.

“Speaking of oaths and fealties is nothing but idle talk. What loyalty is being shown by flapping empty wind from your lips, while your subjects scrape out meager existences in the shadow of your opulence? What actions have you taken for Vitelia’s sake, for her people, that the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia, that the Revolutionary Leagues, have not done tenfold? Look where the Leagues have touched and improved the welfare of the people. Is this truly something that any of you think that the King, in his younger and more energetic days, would not have done? The halls of my education on the matter were given no small share of funding by his decision, and it had clearly borne fruit.” Some applause, some scoffs at that alone. “Those who safeguard Vitelia’s future know that our responsibility is not to cling fast to a hierarchy based upon who has what, but to uplift our people, to make them into a new Class, one that will inhabit a Vitelia that is golden, renewed and strong. What worth does empty verbal posturing of promises of allegiance, disposed of at convenience, have compared to that? All you seek to accomplish by criticizing the Revolutionary League as you do is to rob the people of their future, while you bask in the fading light of your ancestors’ glory, fed without care by the misery of a Vitelia long suffering. I believe I speak for all of those who seek the Dawn when I say this, don’t I?”

That last bit was a flourish, an invitation for the rest of the rotunda to boil over with shouts and proclamations, that lasted for a full minute before the room could be brought to order again with noisy banging of gavels and sharp demands for calm.

The quiet afterwards gave you room for one last snipe. “Signore Di Grandecreppaccio, was it? You are of Interres. I remember that province. When the League came there, it was being torn to pieces by Anarchist foreign cabals, and when I left it, peace had come to it once again. The victory of the League is something you ought to be very thankful for.” Though, your own people had fought the Household Troops of the Duke Di Interres, it had been a show of force, to make him mind his place. Let him bring that up if he wished, but you saw Di Grandecreppaccio flash a look to said Duke, and the Duke looked to you, then to Di Larencci, another unwilling benefactor of the Leagues, and a chain of shaken heads told that you were to not be antagonized on this point.

Besides, the route of diversion from that diversion was seen by another speaker who stood to make his thoughts known. He was a stodgy looking plump man, completely bare of hair above the nose besides thin brows over small eyes, but well mustachioed and bearded with grey streaks through both. You’d not seen him before the conference, but he was introduced as a significant man indeed. The Governor-Proconsul of Lindiva, Signore Vitale Vaccaro, not of any noble blood, but of equal if not greater means. Only under great duress had he and his fellow representatives deigned to attend this conference, but the reluctance which they had held before was either dulled or masked as of this moment.

Lindiva was a part of Vitelia, officially and internationally speaking, but the province to the north of the capital lands had long had a streak of independence, because of its great fertility and developed self-sufficient industries supplied by the minerals of its mountains, which also sustained in part their vast crop yields. Yet their control over their own affairs had only grown more and more over time, and even though food prices for example should have been quite low with all the supply, one of Lindiva’s underhanded economic manipulations was forcing price controls upon the crown, so that they received a great premium for their harvests, or took their grains and fruits and wines to those elsewhere who readily ate it up. They were a singularly irritating people, and their lands had the affluence expected of a region that had not had to pay near its fair share for the Emrean War alone, let alone all the days after, safely cloistered in the back of the country as they were.

Years of contempt festered in you as the Governor Proconsul, who was surely a wealthy landowner like any noble despite his common name and origin, spoke in the interests of protecting his wealth as Lindivans could only be expected to do.

“Gentlemen of this conference,” Vaccaro said, adjusting his thick spectacles, “Much was said just now, of the granting of welfare, and of aiding the Vitelian people, but I must point attention to the means by which these programs are supported. Our prosperous republican province has done quite well, by the industry of our people,” And the monopolies unwisely appointed to it, you thought, “But we’ve heard much about some idea of sharing the load. Much of the Revolutionary Leagues’ ideas of improving the welfare of the people do not involve improving economic health or mobilizing the industriousness of workers and investors, but in seizure and redistribution of property, whether the seizure claims a veneer of legitimacy in the form of taxation or, in more than a few cases, landowners, nobility and businesses have been forced to sell or give up their possessions under threat of force. From what we have seen, Vitelia’s economic health has not improved significantly because of this…”

“I should like to see what you base that off of,” one of the League’s more influential economic planners stood with a clatter, “There is an adjustment period, for certain, but all of my analyses indicate that the resources and means of production once hoarded by a select few are much better utilized after their voluntary distribution. We both know well the labyrinthine systems that are still in play in some provinces meant to control where and whence wealth flows, and how stifling they are. Lindiva itself evades said systems specifically by dealing directly with the crown instead of other provinces!”

Vaccaro pursed his lips and leaned upon his desk, raising his voice again. “Regardless of that, the primary concern, that I believe many here share, is maintaining our economic rights and property, the keys to our and our people’s prosperity. More and more, it seems that the Revolutionary Leagues seek to be in charge of the economy, despite having little in the means of qualification beyond supposedly good intentions. This cannot be so, can it? The attempts at infiltration into my home province do not even bother to disguise their attempts at outright thievery. The rogue youth who pressed for this attends this conference at this moment, pretending he is an equal and not some delinquent fit more for the streets than any place of leadership.”

Sabato made a crude gesture from his place, but he refrained from speaking out. His attempts to cause trouble in Lindiva had met with too much failure for him to act with usual arrogance.

“Signore Giovanno Leone,” Vaccaro addressed the man who had managed to drag him out all this way in the first place, “Your takeover of Agria is well known at this point. The means, the consequences, and furthermore the implicit approval of the Kingdom in doing so. You must understand why we in Lindiva are concerned about how all this is progressing. What is being spoken of being decided here.”

That prompted Leo to stand, naturally. The way he towered had a way of quieting the room of the murmurs being traded- the sheer physical imposition he had. “Governor-Proconsul,” Leo responded, “I know you’re about to complain about the necessity of renegotiating your trade privileges, of instituting the taxes of the kingdom upon you and your goods again. I won’t try and tell you otherwise, you’ve had a good deal for a long time, and you won’t gain from this, not in the short term. But Lindiva is part of Vitelia, and we cannot stand strong if we stand apart. Vitelia has given to Lindiva plenty, can you object to paying some part back in its time of great need? Or would you rather fracture Vitelia further? Do you think that would preserve your prosperity and wealth or only ensure you lose it all?”

“Premier of the Revolutionary League,” Vaccaro rumbled, “This sounds much like a threat. Is it? Groups affiliated with your cause have already intruded, acted with violence, and show no indication they regret any of the wrongs against Lindiva’s people, whom they are not a part of whatsoever.”

Leo glowered down at Vaccaro, teeth grit. “I know better than to threaten my countrymen, Governor-Proconsul, all I’m doing is telling you to look around you, look at what way the winds are blowing. Do you know how many in this place already know that, one way or another, Vitelia must change? The only way you can evade change is by not being a part of Vitelia, and I can’t think of a worse decision for your people than that.”

The Conference went back and forth on this matter the whole day- Lindiva’s representatives, frustrated by the lack of support their individual cause had, would fall back upon the questions of costs and redistribution, and that would go straight back to if they were going to share their part of the obligation, as the load would not be so heavy on the rest of Vitelia if Lindiva gave more than nothing. The day ended- and the same matter extended over the entire week afterwards. The conference had stalled, but one thing seemed to be getting united behind- the comprehensive reworking of civil services and tax structures, to support what was quickly becoming the norm that the Revolutionary Leagues had gradually introduced wherever you had been in place long enough.

Not everybody was happy about it, but a general recognition that the people had to have some old standards relaxed was had by all. Save for the northern province’s representatives, who didn’t want to give a finger’s breadth of ground. Many were growing exasperated, as Vitelian men often did when Lindivans were involved with anything. There were other matters to attend to. The extension of Revolutionary Leagues as obligations to all local civil service organizations, for example, the potential role of reformed Cathedra charity and outreach, their role in such having been entangled in the knot of present protective policies. Addressing concerns by border regions that foreign nations were becoming concerned about the sheltering of “dangerous anarchists,” who were not yet reassured by the destruction of the international front forming in the Red Garden.

In the shadow of all that was the expectation of the “Revolutionary Self-Denying Decree,” where apparently, both friends and rivals were waiting for a shuffling of powers, but Leo confided in you that he was saving that for the most critical moment.

“We can’t break it out before things have really even started, Bonetto,” he explained as you both spent one lunch time at a café, “A lot of the old blood is hoping to get more than they give with that, but they’re not going to have that happen. When we push it forward, it’s going to be when we can grab the whole bag of what we want, and what this country needs.”

“But the Lindivans don’t want this to proceed at all, from what they’ve been doing,” you said spitefully, “They’ve only come to obstruct matters. Was it really a good idea to involve them if they have no intention of giving anything up?”

“I still think we can pressure them,” Leo said, thumbing his stony brow, “Lindivans might be…what was your term for them?”

“Gold hoarding vultures and mindless termites.”

“You haven’t changed that line since college days.”

“There’s been no need to change it.”

“Anyways,” Leo said, “But they’re still Vitelians, and very wealthy and powerful. That wealth and power’s the key to balancing all these books, maybe even pushing things up some. Otherwise we won’t have a good plan for making things happen quickly without cannibalizing other things. The industrial expansions are good, Bonetto, but we just can’t make them happen fast enough to pull the country out of this ditch with that alone. Some day the Northern Wars will end, and the materiel market won’t be so lucrative.”

“The Lindivans don’t want to talk, though, they want proportional concessions at minimum.” Which wasn’t happening. “They need to be pressured so we can move on past their nonsense.” Before you had to enrich the good doctor again- and double the chances you might reveal your condition.

“They do,” Leo relented, “So, what do you think? Of the ideas we talked over yesterday. I’d rather not toss them out. Things would progress quickly, but we’d lose any chance to get the best outcome…”

One of those ideas, of course, involved force. Not that such a thing wasn’t a gamble. The Lindivans had a far more developed militia and self defense force than paltry territorial guard or criminal gangs, and had employed them against prior Revolutionary League infiltration. Provoking a fight would be a true test for the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia…and an escalation that the others in Vitelia might not appreciate, unless they were of the rankled youth.

>Leo was the head and organizer of the Tre Acque Conference, even if the moderation of it had been trusted to others. If the Lindivan representatives didn’t want to play this game, then they had no more place here. Throw them out and figure things out without them, damn the consequences.
>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.
>Enough playing around. The northerners would have to learn one way or another just who they were messing with. Mobilize the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia and make a show of force. Let them know what happens if they prefer the stick to the carrot.
>Other?

>>6272744
>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.

>>6272744
>>Enough playing around. The northerners would have to learn one way or another just who they were messing with. Mobilize the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia and make a show of force. Let them know what happens if they prefer the stick to the carrot.

>>6272744
>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.
If Leo wants to go for the gold, then the best way I see this going is planting a base of support in Lindiva, then when the Aurora Legion wraps up their contract we can bring them in to start really putting the screws on the Lindivans. With that mix of threats I think we could bring the Lindivans to the table, maybe identify more moderate figures we could split to our side with the right pressure.

>>6272744
>>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.

>>6272744
>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.

>>6272744
>Try and appease them with minimal concessions on their part. Even simply allowing Revolutionary Leagues within their borders could be enough to influence them over time, they did have a democratic republican structure, after all, susceptible to popular whim…though their elections were not for a couple years now.

>>6272780
Supporting.

All out hostilities against Lindiva would be reckless, after all all we need is initial infiltration so our guerillas can start doing their thing.

>>6272756
>>6272780
>>6272783
>>6272794
>>6272844
>>6272885
It's more important to keep them around than to force your way...for now. After all, a democratic society must eventually bend to its people, so all you need is access to them.

>>6272772
There's been enough talk, and it's clearly not worked. On to the next logical step.

Updating.

“We hardly need them to relent on everything now,” you sighed, “As convenient as that would be. All that is needed for now is that they allow Leagues to organize within their lands and amongst their people, without interference. With a guarantee of peace from us, and leaving them out of other obligations, they should accept such small terms and we can move along without having to worry about them.”

Leo rubbed his scalp skeptically. “True, they’d be out of the way, maybe not even in attendance any longer, since they’d have little reason to be, but their elections aren’t for a couple years yet, the Proconsul-Governor’s not for another three. Even if we manage to raise awareness of our cause, and build sympathy, we’d have to wait some time for it to bear fruit. Not longer than I’ve had to wait for other things, but plenty in our camp won’t be happy at having to put it off until an uncertain date. Not when this conference, they think, is supposed to decide everything.”

“That’s terrifically hopeful of them.”

“Everybody wants this over with, young or old, Bonetto. Tomorrow’s either too far away or too soon, and I bet the Lindivans think the same.”

It was always too far away, for many years. “It won’t take long, we can reassure them privately,” you said, “we just need a few more options, a few more ways to put on pressure. We bring them to the table again, later. We’ll just need to keep our particularly fiery people out of there. Lindiva has wealth, and education, which inevitably means…”

“Signore Bonaventura?” A man called for your attention from across the room, at the entrance to the café. One of you and Leo’s guard detail, dressed in red uniform. A trustworthy fellow. “I have a telegram here from your wife.”

“Ah, good, bring it here,” you beckoned, and accepted the envelope from the guard’s hand, opening it in the same motion.

My Darling Palmiro,

Firstly, I wish you well, but back to me soon. Ten days is a long time for a married woman to have to sleep by her lonesome, even if you have left me for longer in the past, I am no more used to it. At least return by next month for Ydela’s birthday, and for when our son goes to Stor Ankomst for school. It will not do for Lorenzo to have to depart to Naukland without an in-person farewell from his father.

Your troublesome daughter was late returning from visiting Monte Nocca again. She insists that her tutor left her stranded, but she has been to the mountain many times and surely knows it as well as her clothes magazines. I think she took the opportunity to get up to some mischief with her friends. I certainly hope she has not found some man too roguish to introduce to us…or, may the Judge and Yjens preserve, more than one man.

Poor Ydela has been frightened at night recently, like when she was younger. She says that there are people around our house, watching, that she saw while out walking. I’ve spoken to our guards, and they say they cannot find anybody, but that has brought no peace of mind to our little paper flower. She has grown into a rather serious young woman…but she is still only ten years old. Her imagination frightens her easily still, and a girl her age should not be out exploring in the dark anyways. I do not expect that you can do anything about it, but she wanted me to ask you anyways.

I miss you, my love, and do what you must, but mind that upon your return, I will be expecting a hot meal.

Yours forever, waiting most impatiently, the Wife of Vitelia’s Proudest Lion

“What’s she saying?” Leo asked, “No bad news?”

“Pining for me as expected,” you said, re-reading the telegram. A very lengthy one. She could have written a letter, and that would have only been slightly slower. “Ydela is worried about something she saw at night, and Vittoria was late coming home a couple days.” Your blonde girls continuing their streak of trouble. “I wonder if it’s more for her nerves than theirs.”

“At least she sends regularly,” Leo said with a chuckle, “Marcella and the twins just wait for me to come home, usually, and you know how often that is. One day I’ll come home and find out Chiara’s been married while I was away.”

>Respond to your wife with anything, or address any other concern for back home?

>>6272920
>Respond to your wife with anything, or address any other concern for back home?

>I think she took the opportunity to get up to some mischief with her friends.
We might be able to tamp down on this a little by giving Vittoria something to do by seeing if she can help settle Ydela, or tease out more details of the occurrences, after all; it's not like like we're not a person of "some" importance. And it's better to at least look into things than brush things off. and it would assist us greatly in these matters.


>Her imagination frightens her easily still, and a girl her age should not be out exploring in the dark anyways.
Request that she at very least take a second person at minimum, "and" notify the security detail if she is going out A pepper-box, derringer or push-dagger might not be such a bad idea anyway, she isn't the most sturdy of combatants anyway, if something was to actually happen there is a better chance of things being resolved safely in numbers rather than alone.

>>6272920
>>Respond to your wife with anything, or address any other concern for back home?
>At least return by next month for Ydela’s birthday, and for when our son goes to Stor Ankomst for school.
Tell her we'll try and Bonnetto will absolutely send gifts (For Ydela, send her a elegant accessory knife. Something to reminder she's strong even in these trying times. And for Lorenzo get him some revolutionary literature, preferably something signed, something he might not find in the less revolutionary minded Naukland.) but the work we do here is long and the powers at be even more eager to draw this out than she is to make sure Bonnetto returns.

>Your troublesome daughter was late returning from visiting Monte Nocca again.
Tell her to have faith in our loyal and strong hearted daughter. Tell her to hold her and kiss her for us. Tell Yena that Vittoria will be ok so long as she has the support of her beautiful evergreen mother by her side, and that even if youth leads to troublesome choices, it is that same love and support that will keep her well in the end.

>Poor Ydela has been frightened at night recently, like when she was younger. She says that there are people around our house, watching, that she saw while out walking.
No reason not to believe her. Increase her guard if possible and if that doesn't help, tell her to keep inside until Bonnetto next returns. Give her hugs and kisses for us as well.

>I miss you, my love, and do what you must, but mind that upon your return, I will be expecting a hot meal.
Believe us, surrounded by all these horrible backwards thinking bastards trying their best to rob the world of it's future, there's nothing Palmiro would love more than to "feed" his wife, to remind him what all the fighting is for to begin with.
Remind her that we think of her and the children always.

>>6272920
>Respond to your wife with anything
Gonna knock you up again when I get back home

Alright, good thing I chose to do an early smaller one.

>>6272925
>>6272951
Addressing all concerns.

>>6273086
But she's already pregnant!

Calling things in an hour or so.

“I’ll have to go early, Leo,” you told your friend, “I expect Yena wants a swift response, and it’s the least I can do. Especially if my children are either up to no good, or have monsters under their beds.” You got up and bent low to whisper, “It might be nothing, but I’ve been feeling wary, lately, so just to be certain…”

Leo made a serious face. His family actually had been attacked on a whim, so he took any threats seriously, even if he wasn’t as close to his wife and children as he felt he ought to be. “Go ahead. It isn’t as though this conference is going to be resolved in the next few hours.”

To the telegram office you went- apparently, in some places, personal telephone lines were not uncommon for those of means, but for you the only thing like that was to and from your actual office in the Lapizlazulli League’s administrative building. Besides, such a thing depended on calling when the other person wasn’t occupied, and Yena, despite having many children to delegate chores to and the common markets getting access to labor saving devices of more variety and more affordable prices, was always a busy woman. Something about the offer of hiring servants for what she thought were her duties was an affront to her traditional beliefs.

Still, though. First things first, the safety concerns. A quick and blunt telegram to your offices telling the guard detail on your family to keep an extra keen eye out at night, to accompany your daughter on any outings, and to increase personnel by another pair of troopers. You didn’t need another abduction taking place, especially at a time like this where an opportunistic sort might attempt such a thing. Even if it was being perpetrated by the bogeyman.

After that, since it would already be getting set in motion by the time your wife received the next message, you set on that. The first thing to get out of the way- you knew from years of training soldiers that the best way to keep them out of trouble was to give them something to do, and your firstborn would be no different. You advised Yena to make her help Ydela with her problems, or to at least look into what she was concerned with. If Vittoria’s tutoring in mystic ways was good for anything, it should have been good for this. Better than any troopers would be, who likely scoffed at such irrational things in public while clasping their charms tightly in the dark.

Similarly, with Ydela’s birthday coming up in the middle of July, you had some time to think on that. Closer to Donom Dei, there were some unique crafts, and you had the idea to arm her. She was never as enthusiastic about weapons as her elder sister, or her elder brothers for that matter, but she might be less afraid if she had something to defend herself with. Perhaps some sort of knife. A gun was probably too much for a ten-year-old girl, even one that was the daughter of yourself.

…Luigi hadn’t been mentioned in the message, and you could only hope that it was because he was keeping himself out of trouble rather than it being a case of Yena being more tolerant of your green-haired progeny.
Speaking of, with all the minds meeting here, you decided to try and procure a signature for one of the newer pieces of Revolutionary philosophy coming out to keep your son on track while he was far from home. From one of the Avanguardia Vitelia members, a particularly literate nobleman calling himself Di Mattino- which wasn’t far from his original name, but it was an analysis and praise of the last decade’s reforms and the philosophy in enacting them. Somewhat of a puff piece, to be fair, but you weren’t going to debate its praise.

Also important was shifting the balance in the other direction.

Have faith in your our daughters, you wrote, I am not there to hold them and give them kisses, so do so in my stead. They have their beautiful evergreen mother by their side. Vittoria is strong and loyal, do trust her to do the right things, but accept her mistakes. The best of us must make them sometime, but love and support will shield us from them wounding us.

…Yena’s affection could be draining, quite literally at times, but it had been some time. You could do to stir her up some. Emotionally, to prepare for the physical equivalent. I am surrounded by people devoid of love here, who wish to rob the people of their future, or deny it to everybody out of spite. Times are trying. I look forward, to your embrace soon enough. As soon as the difficult fight here is won, I will be looking forward to an equally energetic respite.

Yena shouldn’t have been working so hard either- she was pregnant, a few months into it, and though she looked little different she should still have been taking it easy. Maybe another holiday was in order soon, with all the progress made…

-----

A few backroom discussions were had with the Lindivan representatives, indirectly through junior members, but an agreement had been reached. The Revolutionary Leagues would not pressure them into changing any treaties, trade agreements or taxes for the time being, and they would allow the Leagues to enter, form, and operate in their lands. They would still sit on the Conference, but each time the aforementioned subjects came up, they would accept gradual drawing downs instead of holding matters up for days as they had been doing. It would all look very artificial, especially to those with any level of observance, but the Tre Acque Conference had to proceed.
Soon enough, anyways, the Aurora Legion would return from Trelan and the Northern Wars, their contract ending with June and the passage of 1927’s meridian. Their numbers wouldn’t be replenished from the losses they had taken in Operation Stonebreaker, but they would still be a formidable force to have in your borders in case anything troublesome occurred.

It was the 24th of June now, almost two weeks since the conference began. You leaned back in your chair as petty debate took place over what the definition of public welfare was, particularly when it came to providing for the poor.
“The question is,” the Duke Di Interres spoke, “If we provide too much, what drive is there for a person to improve their situation, and that of their community, their state? We should not be overzealous in generosity.”

“Perhaps not,” Di Rouge, another figure from your ascent and mayor of the city of Halmaluce, spoke in support of particularly sweeping aid reform, “But there are still people so poor that all they can think of is if they will have a meal that day. Surely measures against that kind of abject poverty cannot be debated against, can they?”

“The funds for such programs must come from somewhere, Di Rouge,” Di Interres retorted haughtily, “I realize you no longer have the wealth and means to see this objectively, but do try. We do not have access to the mints, we cannot simply make more money to give out to anybody we please, even if we wished to. The funds would have to be diverted from education, from enforcement of laws, even administration of distribution. Would you give those up for the sake of those who choose not to work? For the junkies and the layabouts?”

“There are those who cannot work in addition to those who do not, Di Interres,” Di Rouge reminded harshly. Funny to think there was this particular disagreement taking place between men who were actually both affiliated with your faction, and thus nominally allies.

“The point of our resources being limited remains,” Di Interres said, not budging, “Though that would change were others to lend their aid, since they have no shortage of means, especially food…” He looked over to the Lindivan delegation with an accusatory glare.

The Governor-Proconsul was swift in his own response, as he stood. “We have already spoken at length about this, Duke. Lindiva has its own troubles, and is being trusted with its own affairs and necessary reforms. We have much invested into education and efficiency as well, I remind you.”

Di Interres curled his lip disapprovingly, and gave you a rather annoyed look, but could not press further. He himself had been part of the secret delegation to move things forward, but he clearly did not like the results showing through. “I call the Conference to vote, then. On the subject of the dispersal of aid responsibility, whether on a provincial level, a local level, or if our reform should take place at the level of the country as a whole. Does his eminence Prince Qaercio object to the implications of the last?”

No response from him- as good as an approval. The vote was called, for what it was- by necessity, the provincial solution was chosen, even though no small few dissented as they wished to keep Lindiva on the hook anyways. Soon enough, they had been reassured in secret, but they were still unhappy with bending.

More minutiae over the next days. Dissenters grew bolder as the easier and more sympathetic subjects passed- it was easy to vote for nice things, but how those things should happen, and who should be in charge, especially the question of estates and distribution, were hard roadblocks. More and more, the question of the Revolutionary Self-Denying Decree was being brought up- and who would take whose place in the execution of such.

Leo was untouchable by such- he had ceded little if any power, and he was so popular that his people readily argued for him, without any prompting, that he would be going nowhere. It wasn’t spoken aloud, but everybody knew what was being said by what was unsaid- the eyes falling upon you, the other greater power of the League- the man that some people still considered to not be his own, but a piece which moved by Leo’s will, as you had been installed by him.

Cesare met with you again the night of the 27th, in the same place as before. The discussion was freer than it could be in the Grand Manor where, even though it was where the decisions were proclaimed, the true diplomacy was not exactly taking place.

“They have chafed under you directly more than Leo, after all,” Cesare said to you as you sipped at the old wine again, the very last of it in the bottle left over, rationed carefully from other nights. “And they know they can’t touch Leo. The Utopian Front.”

“Aren’t they grateful at all?” You complained, “I gave you money, arms, territory, free reign for the experiment of independent communes. Shielded the Front from the consequences of allying with the Red Garden. They ought to know well that Leo isn’t fond of them at all.”

Cesare shrugged, his palms raised high, “These are chaotic times, Bonetto. Many aren’t appeased by concessions, I’ve done my best to make them see reason, but I just ask that you consider that more, greater ones might be in the best interests of Vitelia and yourself. After all, Leo…” He said with a note of disappointment, “…won’t be around forever. Maybe it’s worth considering stepping out of your spotlight for some time. It might even be seen as noble in the future, if you willingly place your name on this Self-Denying Decree.”

You scoffed at that. “The Self-Denying Decree is vague on purpose. It hasn’t been decided yet to what extent it denies. I would be putting my head on the block not knowing if there is a barber coming for it, or a headsman.”

“A headsman is a barber, sometimes,” The authoritative yet feminine voice of Chiara to your other flank from Cesare. “Consider who might be taking your place before you take any advice to surrender your position. Would it do if a Saint had their place taken by one whose heart was full of the rot of primordial chaos?” You looked over, saw her brilliant blue eyes, her ageless face, the judgement. Yet you were entirely willing to let this long dead friend and comrade remain, if she wished. The illusion was…Your medicine must have worn off while you were talking with Cesare, but you could have sworn it was enough for the day…

Cesare tapped you on the shoulder. “Do we have another guest, Bonetto?”

“No,” you said hurriedly, “It’s nothing.”

“Between you and I,” Cesare said, turning his body to face you instead of the wall of the empty tavern, “Tell me. Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Step down,” Cesare said flatly, “Would you sacrifice your position? You have a provision for that already, with the fifth Decree of your Revolutionary Council, but it may be asked for from other places, and you are not barred from removing yourself, after all. If it was for the greater good, is all I’m asking. Solely between us. I am, after all,” Cesare raised a glass towards you, “Your ally. If you’re having second thoughts, I want to reassure you, and if you’re in need of support, then I will keep your back as you stand high.”

>You supposed that you could. Not necessarily would, but could. You had plenty of other places to influence the future, after all. What were you afraid of, losing one chair? It would give you more time for family, friends, investments. But you’d want a little longer, to set up who you’d like to succeed you at least.
>Quite honestly, you were thinking of doing it soon anyways. The Tre Acque Conference was meant to push through the most affairs of consequence, and after the Revolution and the Nation were intertwined, what need was there for you to continue your term? Especially if you truly were in a nest of vipers…
>No. Not at all. You didn’t work this hard, this long, your friends didn’t all fall in battle for you to surrender your position to the whims of people with no idea of your struggle, or what had to be done. If anybody was to fall, it’d be those that deserved it- not the ones who all should be thanking for the future.
>Other?

>>6273383
>No. Not at all. You didn’t work this hard, this long, your friends didn’t all fall in battle for you to surrender your position to the whims of people with no idea of your struggle, or what had to be done. If anybody was to fall, it’d be those that deserved it- not the ones who all should be thanking for the future.

>>6273383
>You supposed that you could. Not necessarily would, but could. You had plenty of other places to influence the future, after all. What were you afraid of, losing one chair? It would give you more time for family, friends, investments. But you’d want a little longer, to set up who you’d like to succeed you at least.

I think it might be less important to directly select a successor, but to think longer term and set up a protocol to find ready and elevate the most worthy of the responsibility.

This work for the "future" is stealing the now from us and our family. Can we say that it is above everything even at this point. We've done a lot of work to set the scene, frame discussions, cultivate the revolutionary spirit, win the needed battles, and do the planning. and with nothing concrete if something were to happen, what then?

Also if we're careful about it, there is the potential to return in a time of crisis, this isn't the first time we're exiled.

>>6273383
>You supposed that you could. Not necessarily would, but could. You had plenty of other places to influence the future, after all. What were you afraid of, losing one chair? It would give you more time for family, friends, investments. But you’d want a little longer, to set up who you’d like to succeed you at least.

Men who cling to power are the exact type of fools we wish to defeat.
Of course there is a lot more Bonnetto could do from his position, but what's more important than just being there is building a bulletproof framework so the revolution can keep going without us. A framework that can't be thoroughly overrun by either tyrants or hordes of bad actors trying to hide the proper path to the Dawn. Once that framework is built and everything is in place Bonnetto would gladly step down for the next generation or whoever comes next, but one can not leave a house half build and the rest in it.

>>6273383
>You supposed that you could. Not necessarily would, but could. You had plenty of other places to influence the future, after all. What were you afraid of, losing one chair? It would give you more time for family, friends, investments. But you’d want a little longer, to set up who you’d like to succeed you at least.

>>6273404
Refuse your place as the Revolutionary Man? I think not.

>>6273408
>>6273436
>>6273445
To step down would not be an impossibility. How many men accomplished less than you while having more? Perhaps your part is near done, if it needs to be?

I'll call it in a couple hours, vote is still open.

No changes! Writing.

>>6273383
>No. Not at all. You didn’t work this hard, this long, your friends didn’t all fall in battle for you to surrender your position to the whims of people with no idea of your struggle, or what had to be done. If anybody was to fall, it’d be those that deserved it- not the ones who all should be thanking for the future.
We literally built the Eastern League from scratch, why would we ever step down before the job is done? Who is even remotely competent to take the reigns besides us?

>>6273457
I know I was too late with my vote and it does not change the outcome, but i have to express my disagreement with those cowards voting to maybe step down.

>>6273383
>No. Not at all. You didn’t work this hard, this long, your friends didn’t all fall in battle for you to surrender your position to the whims of people with no idea of your struggle, or what had to be done. If anybody was to fall, it’d be those that deserved it- not the ones who all should be thanking for the future.

Hm.
On second thought, since I haven't written very far, I'll let this sit a bit longer, if it would have been tied up soon anyways. Let's say another few hours, if you can't debate it into being sooner through convincing your opposition.

>>6273383
>>No. Not at all. You didn’t work this hard, this long, your friends didn’t all fall in battle for you to surrender your position to the whims of people with no idea of your struggle, or what had to be done. If anybody was to fall, it’d be those that deserved it- not the ones who all should be thanking for the future.
It is a noble notion that we could give up our place for the sake of the Future, but that Future has not yet come, and the past is littered with the corpses of those who died waiting for it. We will not wait, we will not give up and hope others can steward in the Dawn later, it has to be us, now.

Alright, this seems like enough time.

>>6273540
>>6273553
>>6273593
Pushing over to dissent.

Updating. I hope this decision to put it off for longer doesn't frustrate anybody who voted the other way, but I know some people don't really get the chance to hop on for a two day update interval.

>>6273383
>>You supposed that you could. Not necessarily would, but could. You had plenty of other places to influence the future, after all. What were you afraid of, losing one chair? It would give you more time for family, friends, investments. But you’d want a little longer, to set up who you’d like to succeed you at least.
Late vote that probably doesn't matter

A year and a half ago, you had been entrusted with the Eastern Revolutionary League by Leo. It had been much smaller than it was now- there were plenty of people who would become willing, but then, the Eastern Leagues had only been newly organized to be placed under your authority. From there, from so little, it had grown into a movement that encompassed two provinces, and several islands in the Vitelian Sea. It practically doubled the amount of territory under the direct influence if not control of the Dawn’s followers, when combined with the Western Leagues. Most every Revolutionary-inclined faction dealt with the Leagues now, instead of trying to strike out on their own. That had been your leadership, and its fruits. Could you trust anybody else to continue such a rapid ascent?

Though it wasn’t as if you couldn’t be somebody besides the Premier Executive, somebody besides the torchbearer of Revolution. You had a family, a large, still expanding one, your own legion of ideal, a hundred different ways to try and guide the world to tomorrow without being the helmsman of Vitelia’s destiny. True, trying to do it all at once had drawn you away from those dearest to you, kept away from your family’s future by the world’s. Leo had learned that well over longer.

Yet even so.

“I could,” you answered tentatively, but you elaborated when Cesare seemed to relax. “It would be possible for me to step down, yes. I have plenty of other passions that I could put myself behind. Many loves that would appreciate my attention being theirs rather than some chair. However, even though I could, Cesare, I absolutely would not, at all. Under any circumstances surrender what I have gained. I have worked very, very hard for this, Cesare. For the sake of all of our fallen friends, for those who trusted me then as well as now. For a time, before I knew of your fate, I persevered in this for you as well. To relinquish what I’ve forged just because some new blood is upset that the tree I planted and raised to its current height is jealous that it has borne fruit? They want their share of the harvest when they have done nothing but covet it? No, Cesare, that would be an insult, to everyone and everything. Those who wish to see the Dawn can either help me, or stay out of my way. There is no supplanting me for the sake of my own cause!”

Cesare’s eyebrows had raised, and he blinked at you. “Well, when you put it like that…” He set his glass down, “Sorry, Bonetto, I didn’t mean to incense you, but I was just raising the possibility. Letting you consider all your options.”

“Appreciated as it is,” you said, sipping your drink, “I know what isn’t among my options. To leave my task unfinished, and uncertain how it might be concluded? To let my responsibility to others, and hope vainly that they may be the ones to do it, like every person who fancied themselves Revolutionary but only became a vain failure? To delay the Dawn to the next day, and the day after, and pile up the bodies of those who have wasted away in endless wait, to delay it to those who have died hoping to bring it forth just a moment sooner, just so another can have the privilege of taking up the standard? No. No, Cesare, those are no options at all.” You set your glass down hard and knit your fingers together. “I hope I am making myself clear.”

“…Yes.” Cesare said. “I sympathize. You can hardly blame the youth, Bonetto. They just don’t know what we’ve been through. They just see the top, and what can be done from there. Like some of us did once.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “Have you done more digging? I’d like to know more about all these people, if they’re thinking of my options.”

“I have, Cesare said, “Of a particular figure, no less. One positioned to be closer to you and ambitious enough to rise, than any you might know of. You remember that utter nadir of human depravity, who’s somehow survived this long, even thrived in his adulthood? I won’t deign to speak his name, true or assumed. I’ll only ask if you know any of his children.”

“Do I know any of-” You repeated, baffled, before cutting yourself off. “I know of one, and they are hardly a threat. I’m sure he has plenty of illegitimate children, but I know for certain he has not a one that is heir over his newborn.”

“He has many illegitimate children. So many that it beggars belief, Bonetto,” Cesare said darkly, “But you need only care about one. A man named Vicenzo Libero. Do you know of him? He is in command of your planned uprising on Nuvole Blu.”

That made you lean forward and stare into Cesare’s eyes. “That is not meant to be something known to all,” you said hesitantly, warningly, “Who exactly told you about that?”

Cesare looked coolly back into your own gaze. “I told you, Bonetto, there are those who are against you. This is far from known to all, though, don’t worry.” Though it very well could have been, you thought. “Vicenzo Libero, also known as Vicenzo Di Nero, no relation to your tank commander, perhaps potentially known as Julio Di Secundo. A bastard boy of Di Portaltramanto. Yet he feels no loyalty to his father, it seems.”

“So then he is no threat,” you concluded early.

“He is fiercely ambitious, seeking heroism, and discusses coming victory,” Cesare suggested, “With no regard for elder figures. Very talented, which I’m sure was why he got the position. Openly rebellious as any good Revolutionary League youth is, but as long as he gets the job done, it doesn’t matter. We think he is conspiring to unite himself, Sabato and Pescatore into an allegiance, using the coming operation as capital…but, he did leave the island, so perhaps you’ve foreseen that.”

Well, no. That was because, as far as you had been briefed, Vicenzo Libero was meant to lead the operation to sabotage Paelli’s naval assets that would respond to an uprising with a blockade. Yet Cesare didn’t know that- perhaps he didn’t actually know all. No reason to let him know of that.
“I don’t want to alarm you with the next suspicious person near you, but,” Cesare pulled an envelope from his pocket, “Vicenzo is more gregarious than his abrasive personality might suggest. Look here.”

You looked at the what turned out to be photographs, in the dim light of the tavern’s end. They were a bit blurry, and not particularly more incriminating than being in the same place, but the two people were certain. Vicenzo Libero and your cousin, Antonia Bonaventura, in various social settings.

“This is my cousin Antonia, Cesare,” you said dismissively, handing the pictures back, “She is my go-between for most affairs of any Revolutionary organizations, the Analysis Department included. This is completely ordinary.”

Cesare sniffed in a disappointed manner. “If you say so. Then, there are two more people who seem to act subtly, without seeming to mean well by you. Neither of them are in places easy for you to deal with.” You whorled your hand, motioning, well? “The Duke Di Interres is one. It’s not hard to see why. He chafes under the humiliation of his armed forces, the loss of power and wealth, being made second to all things where he should be first, but he grits his teeth and bears it whenever he is not alone. By all appearances, he has accepted his new role as your subordinate, your legitimizer. But secretly, his private assets and connections flow to the three aspiring heroes of the youth- binding them, empowering them.”

“He is free to do with his personal assets what he will,” you said back, “And if he helps my subordinates of the League, even if they are ambitious young men, he helps the Dawn. He is not hiring assassins with his money, right?”

“Well, no,” Cesare said, “but it’s another piece of this puzzle for you. The final man is a different tune. The son of the Duke of Larencci, master of the Northern Capital Larrocompato, Andrea Danilo di Giovanneluce. He associates openly with the Augustans, who are a band of militarist nationalists who march to any drum that might glorify them, despite claiming to be a gentle man of the vanguard. But more importantly, many of his communiques seem to leave the country. Going north.”

“North…” you wondered out loud, “To Emre? I can’t fathom who he’d want to talk to outside of the country.”

“Me neither,” Cesare agreed, “but even though the Duke Di Larencci’s son will not fight you, he has motivation to resist. Just a warning that he’s acting oddly. It warrants a closer look. That’s about all, for now. This is, after all, just rumors, I don’t have anything like access to your spies…”

“Nevertheless, I appreciate what help I can get.”

“In these times.” Cesare leaned down to his bag and pulled out another wine bottle. “Another round?”

You took the bottle and looked it over. “Are you developing certain tastes, Cesare?” You asked, “I can’t blame you for being something of a lush after what you’ve been through, but I thought you preferred cheaper. Even beer.”

Cesare brushed his messy hair back, cracked his neck, as he fingered the cork of the wide bottomed vessel. “Tre Acque is a momentous occasion. A reason to celebrate and see new mornings. This is Lindivan Spring, a bubbly gold from the highlands. Think of it as taking your spoils preemptively. You’ll have some, won’t you? My wages are hardly rich.”

You slurped the last drops from what was already in your glass and proffered it to Cesare. “I would rather not enjoy something from Lindiva,” you said, “But if you’re in a merrymaking mood for once, I can’t refuse. Let’s get away from the dry politic and rumors of treachery in shadows, we have plenty of glad things to speak of, even in these times of the dark before dawn.”

So it went on- for as long as you could, you regaled Cesare with the good news you had to share about your life. Yet Chiara did not leave you- and as you both drank, despite not at all to any excess, the empty tavern filled more and more, with what you were afraid to question as specters. The noise near drowned out Cesare, but if he noticed how disturbed you were, he said nothing of it. It was as though the medicine had lost potency- or worn off. It had not been long since you took it. The very last of it was taken, in hope to preserve a couple more hours with Cesare, before you both retired for the night. It was time to enrich the doctor once more.

-----

“You have no more?” You repeated to the doctor, when you visited early the next morning, “How can that be?”

“I apologize, Signore Bonaventura,” the doctor said tiredly, “But last night, somebody broke into my stores and pilfered many of my drugs. I’ve been cleaned out of most things, I’m afraid.”

“But what could they possibly want with what you gave me?”

“Most likely, Signore, they had no idea what they were stealing,” the doctor returned, “Only that the drugs might have value to somebody.”
“Damn. I thought this place too well watched and monied to have petty crime like this.”

The doctor gave you a sympathetic nod of his head. “Perhaps opportunists have come, with all the wealthy people gathering here. I’ll have to consult my insurance about this, but I don’t expect to be able to replenish my stocks for a few days at least, even weeks. Luminal is not made in Vitelia, and I don’t know if I can get it in a timely manner. The conference might end before then.”

That would either be very lucky, or very unlucky, since the Tre Acque Conference was only halfway over by the best estimates of those attending. Even without particular obstruction going on, there was much disagreement and compromise, and revisitation of those whenever an opportunity rose its head. Decrees thought to be concrete and settled were having revisions made still, except for the one regarding Lindiva’s main concern to have control over its own local affairs and delegation of resources. Even if that one was the most resented whenever the subject of funds and aid came up, especially between wealthier or poorer provinces and counties.

Most of the details and progression were evading you now, though. The other drugs you had bought were keeping your demeanor calm, but did nothing to dissipate the delusions of specters, of the dead, and of those of the past long gone. It was better to keep quiet unless absolutely necessary, and prompted.

That was being noticed, though, gradually.

Once again, you had a choice to make regarding this conference, but this time, you had more excuses to draw upon. It being the beginning of July, you had been pulled away from your administrative duties for quite some time. Furtive updates from the Analysis Department indicated that the planned operation for Nuvole Blu could begin soon, and that might require close attention. Your presence had already been felt and displayed at the conference, so departing now would not be so controversial.

Yet if you stayed, it would be a good show of devotion to the cause- but perhaps not a good look if you had to stay subdued. The other option was to have more Luminal or something similar smuggled directly to you…but that would mean exposing your present condition to more people. It was difficult to differentiate paranoia from caution at the moment, but you had a good feeling you’d rather as few people know as possible that you were taking any drug whatsoever…

>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.
>Remain at the conference, but simply be attendant. No need to strain yourself further, since the biggest problem player was pacified for now.
>You had to maintain a show of strength and authority. Even if there was a chance of some insider finding out, you had little choice but to get more of the vital mind drug into your system, whatever the costs were.
>Other?
Also-
>Anything else to address or act on?

>>6273896
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.

Damn, we've been trapped.
Either we stay and potentially have Bonnetto make a fool of themselves or leave and allow our ops to fuck with things while we aren't around.

>>6273896
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.
We can't risk being found out or having Bonnetto's authority challenged in our face. Better to leave now and leave the reason for Bonnetto's disappearance in question than confirm it beyond a reasonable doubt. One thing is for sure, we really need to find a number 2.
Not just an upstart to challenge the other upstarts but someone we can for sure trust to speak for us when we're gone.

>>6273896
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.
Not good while there are sharks circling in the metaphorical water, but better than getting pasted as a drug addict.

>>6273896
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.

I would suggest making an effort to secure the loyalty of Lorenzo. Also lets talk to Antonia about him, see if she knows of the plot Cesare mentioned, but we should not mention to her what we learned and from who.

Another thing is that as much as i love our nigga Cesare, i think letting the Utopian Front have control of those areas was a mistake that should not be repeated, we should aim to have the Leagues control all the land we secure.

>>6273896
>Remain at the conference, but simply be attendant. No need to strain yourself further, since the biggest problem player was pacified for now.

>>6273896
>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.

Claim we came down with the flu or something happened at home we need to settle.

>>6273896
>>Excuse yourself from the Tre Acque Conference. Maybe it wasn’t the best look, but you’d done enough, and doing more would be risky. It wasn’t worth the prestige of being present.
Claim we need to fuck our wife (the best lies are based in truth)

>>6273911
>>6274021
Head on back- your part here was done, the rest would come elsewhere.

>>6273926
>>6274037
Look into the plan to keep cards in your hand.
I'm presuming Vicenzo was meant instead of Lorenzo, your son isn't conspiring against you, besides in maybe hiding the proclivities of puberty when being tutored by a Halmeggian Holstein. This is alliteration, not the reveal that there is a Holstein in setting.

>>6274107
Alright, you got me, I'm sick...

>>6274126
...with Green Fever, and there's only one cure.

>>6274046
Stick around- at least to be there...

Writing.

Unrelated- the Major in summer seasonal wear. This is a drawn-over and rendered version of a sketch from last year, and I've almost completed the whole set, so I'll be posting them as I get them done, without them conflicting with actual, you know, updates.

>>6274164
>I'm presuming Vicenzo was meant instead of Lorenzo
Obviously yea, i got my spaghetti mixed up.

Major truly has an amazing sense of fashion.

>>6274164
Amazing image!
How can anyone hate on such a specimen?
Richter would do well to learn a thing or two from this pillar of strength and stalwart character! Truly the blood that flows through her veins is strong indeed.

>>6274231
>How can anyone hate on such a specimen?
Read the original quest little bro.

There was no other practical choice- with no Luminal, you couldn’t function, not in this environment. The proper excuses were made, enough of them to at least soothe the average listener if not the keener eye of enemy and ally alike, and you, regrettable, excused yourself from the Tre Acque Conference.

A simple mix of factors. Illness, particularly seasonal flu, was the first piece. Not hard to feign since you had looked under the weather enough for people to ask after anyways. Administrative affairs that couldn’t be left- also partly true. Then the ever sympathetic need to tend to the family, particularly your wife. As much as a few might scoff, planning to accuse you later of greater loyalty to mossy minge than Vitelia, weeks going by without Yena’s particular brand of smothering affection had a way of making the body yearn again for what it was at a few times having to endure rather than enjoy.

So you were off- on a train back across the country to Lapizlazullli once more. Leo was disappointed- and seemed to suspect that your story was off, considering you hadn’t confided just how bad it had gotten, but promised to cover your share of the work in your stead, and keep your most trusted associates working just as hard.
You indulged yourself a bit, and got a cabin for yourself instead of riding coach- riding the delinquent class wouldn’t have guaranteed being alone even if you did go for it. Of course you weren’t alone on the train ride, not as far as your senses and thoughts were concerned.

Two were familiar, if long dead. Gracchio and Hugo, who both were killed in their very first real battle in the shadow of Castello Malvagio and the battle in the camp near Sella Castella, respectively, but the third man crowding the cabin was less familiar. Orso Spectore, who hadn’t been one of your friends in particular, but a friend of friends, drawn along with all the others into the Royal Vitelian Army.

Orso had been a young man with a strong name that didn’t fit his meek personality or his small build. His body had been hardened by Monte Nocca like all the others, but he was still a quiet fellow, a follower at heart, his stated opinions to be merely sticking to what he thought was the best cause. At Sella Castella, he had been bewitched by a cabaret dancer ten years his elder, who initiated a brief but fiery relationship with the slim, sallow Hill Vitelian. Orso died in the first battle- he had survived the first hours out of his natural caution, but when he saw the razing of Sella Castella, he found zeal and fury like he had not had before. It had not helped him against the skill of the foe, and he had been killed by the Black Coats in the fighting for the camp, no vengeance taken by his hands. He had died without you ever really getting to know him, didn’t even know if his lover had survived him, and as time had gone on, he, like many others, had his memory fade from your recollection.

Until he was here, more talkative than he had ever been in life. You wondered if you knew enough about him to construct a true specter, or if such a small thing as personal knowledge played no part in this apparition’s truth.

All three men were the age they were when they had fallen, but in casual wear like you were right back in Lapizlazulli.

“So that’s where you’re from, Bonetto?” Hugo asked, pointing out the window to the countryside, “Just further north? You never told us about your family.”

…You had two brothers, two sisters. All except the youngest sibling, your little brother Danilo had children of their own now. Cousins, for your brood, though all of your sibling’s children put together still were not more than you had of your own. Yena had been an only child of an only child, and the concept of cousins excited her greatly. All of them were small town folk and hadn’t come asking for handouts or a share of celebrity, none of them having your political proclivity. None of them had any compunction to stay on the family farm despite that, or with the sheep, that work by now having fallen to second cousins getting old enough to learn the rural trade.

Antonia was the daughter of your father’s brother, and it was her own siblings that were now on your family branch’s land. In the few letters you’d exchanged with Father and Mother, they mentioned the possibility of selling their property and animals to the cousins working it, when the time came, but Father was a stubborn sort and wanted to work in some fashion until he was in a grave. He’d probably get his wish. You’d already exempted yourself from any inheritance outside of mementos, considering the wealth you’d acquired over the years.

“How about we go see them while we’re near?” Orso offered, “I’ve always been curious of what it’s like for the rural folk.”

“…There’s nothing to see,” you said lowly, altogether too tempted to speak to what you knew couldn’t be there, “I left that place to seek the future. None of you are from places like it. The romance of the countryside loses its appeal when you’ve lived with it your whole childhood already. It’s better than trenches and war, though, I’m sure.”

“Well, we wouldn’t know that,” Gracchio said with a mournful laugh, “What a shame, huh? I think I was really ready for it, but they pulled us back after that one little time. Wasn’t even really a fight, us and the Imperials just snuck around and chased each other like it was a game of hide and seek, and whoever lost just went in time out. I wish we could have gotten the chance to prove ourselves.”

“I am perfectly fine with then results,” Hugo said, “You simply didn’t return with a lady friend, that is why you are bitter, isn’t it?” He elbowed Orso, “But I suppose just one battle would have been good, to prove who would best the other.”

Hmph. You knew what this was, but you spoke anyways. “You young fools speak as if there was no war.”

The trio stared, then laughed. “Of course there wasn’t a war, Bonetto,” Orso snickered, “The Emreans crumpled and the King didn’t fancy our chances, so we all went home. Now we’re just waiting for the next chance we have to bring the Dawn ourselves, like you and Leo said we would. A shame Cesare still got wounded for his trouble though, huh.”

“I was wondering though, Bonetto,” Gracchio leaned forward, “Things have just been going so well, lately, that I don’t think anybody sees any need for the Dawn. It’s a crying shame. Most people just don’t know their situation well enough to see the point.”

“Then we will have to force them to open their eyes.”

-----

Upon arriving at Lapizlazulli in the evening, Gracchio, Orso, and Hugo got off the train before you, wishing you well and claiming they’d see you soon. If only that was something you could look forward to, as it’d likely be true, in a way.

Right there, waiting, was relief on the platform. Your wife Yena, dressed in breezy attire for the warm night of Lapizlazulli’s land side, her hair tied in long ribbons. She had none of your children with her, though. Indicative of a certain scheme.

You went to her and she reflexively opened her arms to accept you and hold you taut. “My Lion returns from his battles again,” Yena said, “They said you were ill, but you seem hale enough, thank goodness.”

“My evergreen companion makes me strong when I might be enfeebled,” you answered, “Did you bring any of the kids?”

Yena shook her head. “They are home, I’ve let Ydela and Chiara take care of supper, and the guards are alert and doubled. Tonight is ours alone.”

That was unambiguous as it could be. However, you looked to your flanks, and felt the uncertainty of who was real grow. At least at home, you would know who was meant to be there, and who would not surprise you.

>You’d rather be at home. Not like there wasn’t a bed there anyways for later, but you’d spent enough time away from an enclosure of safety and familiarity to go on a date night.
>Sounded like a good time, since you only needed to pay attention to one person. (Go where, do what?)
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.
>Other?

>>6274445
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.
Oh no hahaha I hope this doesn't mean OL Yena art in the future! Hahaha that would be horrible.

>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.

Hi. Just finished reading PZCQ from the top. Finally casting my vote in something by the legendary tanq is pretty cool.

>>6274445
>You’d rather be at home. Not like there wasn’t a bed there anyways for later, but you’d spent enough time away from an enclosure of safety and familiarity to go on a date night.

>>6274445
>Sounded like a good time, since you only needed to pay attention to one person. (Local restaurants, something Yena couldn't simply make at home.)
But then
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.
I'm sure we have time for dinner, but we really can't stay long afterwards.

>>6274445
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.

Have a date night in the office.

>>6274445
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.

>>6274445
>Sounded like a good time, since you only needed to pay attention to one person. (Go where, do what?)
Do they have any aquariums in Lapizlazulli? Sometimes a man just has to relax and look at wierd fish then retire to a hotel to make love to his wife.

>>6274445
>>Sounded like a good time, since you only needed to pay attention to one person. (Go where, do what?)
dinner and a movie
or whatever people do for entertainment if films aren't a thing yet

>>6274445
>As is, you were already shirking important work. Yena could come with you to your headquarters, but you had important business to settle still. It was time to cast your eye over everything sooner than later.

This woman has appeared in this quest. Though she would be 17 at present instead of 23 like in this picture. And when you actually encountered her she was like 8, and looked absolutely nothing like this whatsoever.

>>6274446
>6274449
>>6274498
>>6274505
>>6274520
You are not on holiday- even if you're coming home, your work is far from finished.
Though you can bring your wife, not like your secretary is here.

>>6274462
Head straight back to the core.

>>6274474
>6274515
>>6274517
She's right, the night is yours, as is the city.

Updating.

>>6274515
>Do they have any aquariums in Lapizlazulli?
What, do you want Yena to tell you about starfish?
There are a couple, resultant of generous scientific and educational funding from the past century and onwards, the ISSM (for Isla della Societi di Studi Marini) is an artificial peninsula made to integrate more closely with the sea, but there is also the quainter collection of the Azure Public Aquaria, a more traditional sort of series of display tanks. Being a seaside city, Lapizlazulli has no shortage of biologists engaging in their practice, though many are also on their way to the "open air aquarium" of the Tagliaparte Isles' unique biosphere.

>>6274449
>Hi. Just finished reading PZCQ from the top. Finally casting my vote in something by the legendary tanq is pretty cool.
You've made a long trek then, I appreciate you reading all that way and sticking to it, I hope I can continue to entertain. Though I think "legendary" is too much to put on me.
As is traditional for any people who've managed to crawl all the way through the trenches, I'm obligated to ask you who the top three girls are, as to stoke the fires of war.

>>6274692
Breed.

>>6274445
>You’d rather be at home. Not like there wasn’t a bed there anyways for later, but you’d spent enough time away from an enclosure of safety and familiarity to go on a date night.

Update's been stalled longer than I'd like, there's been extra workdays pinching my schedule and making my irregular sleep schedule more a problem than usual, but the normal schedule will come tomorrow, I'll just be delayed tonight again.

Judge above do the pastas make the most cursed tanks.

>>6275683
>cursed
you misspelled cute

>>6274914
She is going to be hard to torpedo with that dazzle camouflage she is wearing.

Home you might be, but you did not intend to shirk every duty that you had already left too much of behind. Yena’s hand was taken and she was led on, but not to any restaurant, or music hall, but to the place of the Eastern Revolutionary League’s headquarters. The place had been added on to and built up over time from its rather cramped and thoroughly unromantic origins, but it had kept the lovely view of the sea. It would do for a modest date location, which was more than one could often expect of a compromise like this.

“I’ve work I need to get done, darling,” you told Yena as you took her hand, “But come with me to the League Headquarters, we’ll make something of it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t seem disappointed. “Is it busy at this time of day?”

“No,” you answered, “It should only be the watchmen there right now.”

“Oh, good.”

“Good?”

Yena smiled at you with a coy sort of high cheeked smugness. “Privacy.”

Though she seemed awfully impatient as you made the walk through several blocks over- you were a very well recognized figure here in Lapizlazulli, and you had to fend Yena’s groping off whenever you sensed a patrol of Revolutionary League about to cross you and give you proud salutes.

“Luigi wants to join them as soon as he can,” Yena told you, distracted from trying to molest you, “I should be happy, but he doesn’t give school the attention he should. He says that it was so easy for Lorenzo, that he shouldn’t try. But…” Yena sighed, “He is…not so quick a study that he has reason to believe that. Not that he is a worse boy for it, he has the fire of his father’s heart where Lorenzo is so shy and withdrawn, but he thinks he needs to be equal in all things, if not better.”

“Let him be young,” you said. “Boys like that learn a different way.” Like beating up their best friends and getting into trouble. “You can tell them fire is hot but they won’t believe it until they touch it.”

Yena grimaced. “Too much like his mother, then.” It put her off of being touchy for a bit.

“Not at all. The difference between a predator and prey. One remains bold and a threat even when in danger. The only thing alike is the mark of his lineage.”

They weren’t gone, of course, but not staying in one place, being amongst people and having your attention fixed on your wife helped many imagined concerns fade into the night. The fiery specter did not disguise itself at all- but another did.

“Everything and everyone needs a balance, no? What better kind of woman for a warrior of dawn than one who has the gentle view of the same world? Ferocity and will are useless without wisdom, only children think otherwise.”

Seeing Yena next to her younger self forced you to look away, for the one fear of seeing how you had aged her.

Arriving at your headquarters, you took the key for it from the clutch of its comrades that you had on your person, and let yourself in. The place was an administrative building, after all, and not a place for visitors these days, a place for records and communiques better not public, all things considered.

“Agh! Signore Bonaventura!” The young watchman who was clearly dozing off a moment before snapped to attention, “You’re back now? We heard nothing about the Tre Acque Conference coming to a close…”

“I finished my part early,” you told him, though a proper “post-analysis” would be released tomorrow, once you prepared it. “I have more important matters to take care of, now that the most vital pieces of the conference have been decided on. I trust the comrades I left there to make the best decisions in my stead. The coming days will be quite significant.”

“I believe it, Signore,” the watchman looked to Yena, “Er, good evening, m’am. Your wife?”

“Yes. I wanted to show her what I’ve been getting up to all this time, here.” She had gotten a better idea anyways when all the necessary equipment and procedures had to be moved to the Vitelian Sea, but it was half an excuse anyways. “Has Antonia been in?”

“Er,” the watchman called over to his partner, “Has the Premier’s cousin been here today?” A muffled answer. “No, signore. She went to visit somebody for a few days. She should be back tomorrow.”

“Very well. Thank you.” You returned the salute and went to the stairs with Yena.

“Visiting somebody?” Yena asked quietly, though she was getting handsy again despite the passing curiosity. It was enough a sensory distraction to keep your attention away from other things, you noticed. “Whom? Should they know?”

“No,” you told her, “Antonia works directly with the Analysis Department, and handles sensitive information. Her activities don’t need to be known to the rank and file.”

“Oh, I thought she might be seeing family. Or, a friend. She’s flighty about that, I know.”

That talk ceased there. Thinking about your cousin while your wife had her hand shoved down your trousers, stroking your salsiccio.

Your office- the blinds closed, the room dark until you flicked the switch on and let a golden glow warm the place, the ceiling fan spinning up. Meticulously organized for your return despite you being ahead of schedule. Normally you’d sit down to examine the folder of important information, Antonia briefing you on each item- but your wife had other ideas.

Without saying a word, Yena grabbed your wrist and pushed ahead of you, pulled you inside, and shut the door after you- in the same motion, she pushed her full weight against you, pressing you into the doorframe. Her hands went around your back, then down your flanks, to your trousers- then into them, as she undid the buttons and drew you out.

“Right away?” You asked in disbelief, still caught off guard, as Yena was able to be firmer than she was on the way here. It didn’t take long before Yena had decided you were ready, got on her knees, and took you into her mouth, just the end, then further, her tongue lapping rings around you as she pushed her lips up to the root, pulled back to the head, then went back again. You had no further words or objections- you set your hand on her head and stroked her from her crown to ear as she went on, pulling off only to take a small gasp for breath before going back for more.

Minutes of this feeling like hours, you lost any care for what else was happening, who might be trying to get your attention. Yena scooted her knees up and once again went as far as it was possible to go, hanging from you as close as a leech on skin, every small movement, you felt over the whole of your manhood, as she breathlessly bobbed like on little waves. Both of your hands went around to the back of her head, encouraging her, until you felt the point of no return, and signaled her with a warning pinch to her nape. Yena pushed herself up into you, and you felt weightless bliss, the ecstasy a familiar feeling, but like a feast for a starving man.

She wasn’t done. Yena kept you in her mouth for the next minute, her tongue pushing up on the bottom of your member, squeezing everything she could from you before she got to the end, artfully kissing the cap as it left her mouth, balancing it on her tongue before it could fall away with one last soft breath upon you, a lewd playful expression on her face before she let her prize drop with a lick of her lips.

“We had to get that out of the way, didn’t we? So you could have your mind clear?” Yena said as she stood on her feet again, embracing you. “…I am glad to have you early, Palmiro. You are my pillar, as much as others have me as theirs, but you are the only one who I can have this with.”

You’d have reciprocated physically, but Yena wasn’t asking for it, and she had sucked the energy out of you to the point where you weren’t sure when you’d be ready anyways- the energy of youth no longer aiding you in keeping up an assault like it once did. Though perhaps that was a blessing. Antonia worked in this office too, and you didn’t want to explain a missed mess and any lingering air of passionate exertion.

Instead, a hand was brought to Yena’s cheek, and she pushed her face against your palm like a cat insistent on a pet. “You’re an impatient lady, aren’t you,” you teased.
Yena gave you a mischievous smirk with half-lidded eyes. “Your body was plenty impatient to give me your nectar, love. You were as needy as I am. Still am.” Much as Yena would want you to bend her over the desk, there was an unspoken understanding that such wasn’t happening. Yet, at least. Instead, she sated herself by sitting on your lap as you flipped through the reports made to you.

“The Aurora Legion is returning,” you told Yena, “I don’t think that Trelan doesn’t still need the help, but they don’t want a foreign mercenary group taking the glory they have planned. They want the last battle to be all theirs.”

“They can do it, can they not?” Yena asked, sympathetic to the place you’d called home for many years, despite having returned to Vitelia now. “I know little of war, but Fealinn has been fighting so many, have they not?”

“The Trelani Republican Army is at the gates of Keliias. They take the capital of Holherez, at the joint of the rivers, they’ll have all the lines of communication to have. The Fealinnese can’t launch any offensives with the reserves and equipment they have left. But the last time the Trelani thought that Fealinn was finished, they almost had the situation reverse completely. So it’s hard to say if they’ll have the easy last victory they want to have.”

“And what will your Legion do when they come back?” Yena asked, “Have a holiday?”

They’d probably like that, but you had plans for the power they represented. “No. They’ll need to remain at the ready, just in case. Coming back from what they’ve been doing, it should feel like a holiday anyways.”

There were several concurrent things they could be preparing for, upon their return, though the turnaround would be rather quick considering how large the unit had become. The first, of course, was the idea to use them to help pressure Lindiva, with the aid of Revolutionary Leagues. They could hardly be restricted from entering, and would represent a force not easily dealt with. Ideally, there wouldn’t even be a thought towards fighting, though the possibility would have to be considered. Even to the point of making the first move, if it could be done without particular notice.

The other matter of importance was the planned uprising operation on the Nuvole Blu Isles, at this point too advanced for anybody to stop, but you could still take steps to help it along. That included the aid of the mercenaries. While infiltrating them for the riskiest aspect of the operation, to damage Paelli’s naval response, was impractical at this stage, they could still be deployed to the islands themselves to provide a stiff backbone to their defenses.

Alternatively, they could just be let to rest. This latest outing had accrued much in the way of fame and manpower- as well as damage. Lounging upon their laurels might be just what the Aurora Legion needed to properly break into the next stage of its ascent…or perhaps, they simply needed to find their holiday in an adventure in other shores? There was still no shortage of conflict in this world.

>Ready the Legion to intimidate the Lindivans. Their stay of defiance wouldn’t be tolerated for long.
>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action. Commit your personal force to being ready to ensure its success when the time comes.
>Let the Legion have time off, they’ve done plenty of fighting and endured much suffering, let the tension they surely have be eased for a while.
>Other?
Also-
>Take care of other particular administrative quibbles? Besides those that would normally be in the specific turn.

>>6275912
>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action. Commit your personal force to being ready to ensure its success when the time comes.

>>6275912
>>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action. Commit your personal force to being ready to ensure its success when the time comes.

>>6275912
>Ready the Legion to intimidate the Lindivans. Their stay of defiance wouldn’t be tolerated for long.
After Nuvole Blue i believe we should start dealing with the Lindivan issue.

>>6275910
>>6275911
>All That.
Grown ass woman, btw.
Certified MILF, Mother of like 8, btw.
I swear, Yena really is built different.

>>6275912
>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action. Commit your personal force to being ready to ensure its success when the time comes.

>Take care of other particular administrative quibbles? Besides those that would normally be in the specific turn.
I'm sure there's something, but I can't think of anything.

>>6275912
>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action

they'll get a bit of a rest in the set up, and presumably the whole force isn't going to the island (with tonks)

>>6275950
I don't think we specifically need to deal with Lindivia. I think we can continue to take over territories closer to our home base and get a grip on a trusted successor (or at least start dealing with those who want to overthrow us).

Lindivia is going to secede just like Gilicia did, and while that is meta knowledge, I think the conference should have shown Palmiro that history is likely to repeat itself (and by that I mean that while he was busy fighting in Gilicia, others took control of the overall movement for an outcome that he didn't want. It looks like it is going to happen again, so I think Palmiro should figure out his own future instead of just jumping into the fray again). Since we told Cesare we won't hand over the reigns until we've brought forth the dawn, we'll need to start putting effort in ensuring we can hold onto them for that long.

>>6275961
Alright you make good sense.

>>6275950
I change to
>The uprising on Nuvole Blue would be a crown jewel of Revolutionary Action. Commit your personal force to being ready to ensure its success when the time comes.

>>6276055
>>6275950
This is me i am phoneposting from work.

>>6275917
>>6275942
>>6275956
>>6275961
>>6276055
Execute a proper, theatric revolution in a setting where the most romantic fantasies would place them. And ensure that its ending is as picturesque as the imagination assumes.

Updating.

And this is Fieval. She has a boy's name because her parents hoped to defy fate by naming their child while still in the womb. Didn't work out that way. She has an outsized amount of depictions for how much impact she has on any story, but in her time, the novelty of the mosshead was fresh.

>>6275912
>Let the Legion have time off, they’ve done plenty of fighting and endured much suffering, let the tension they surely have be eased for a while.

Asking for oyakodon would be distasteful but Yena was all touchy feely while Antonia was the topic at hand so I wonder if they could share a piece at some point.

>>6276131
i believe we will see her again

“We’ve already scouted their holiday destination anyways, haven’t we?” You asked Yena as you lifted her up and set her on the edge of your desk, and went to open the shades. The sunset tinted sea greeted you with dancing rays of dying sunlight. “It has been in motion for some time.” You weren’t going to condescend to Yena and remind her of the import of speaking nothing of it anyways. She might not have been politically inclined or educated in schools of higher learning, but the years had honed common sense to never be a weak link near you. “If they’re lucky enough, the Legion will not have to even fight to have their portion of chilled wine on sunny beaches, of roasted fish and atom suits. Even if they do have to win the time for that, it’s sure to be a welcome change to fighting with Holherezhi tribesmen or stern and stony Fealinnese in the plains swept over by wind from the edge of the world.”

“But will there be mud and fire?” Yena asked from behind.

“There is always mud and fire.” A faceless soldier floated outside the window. You closed the blinds.

“If Nuvole Blu’s revolt goes as everything has been planned for it, the battle will be won before it is even fought. If there isn’t a hope of taking it by force without great sacrifice and uncertainty, the Paellans don’t have the stomach to try. They’ll come to the table to try and make a deal, where they can do their own sort of fighting in comfort. But they will be at a great disadvantage, not holding the land nor sea.”

Yena went to the window with you, seeming to have come to terms with the fact that you couldn’t ravish her yet. “I do not know much of Paelli’s way of fighting, but they do have a fleet of warships, do they not?”

“They do, but they are primarily concerned with keeping their sea trade safe.” You pointed to a few moored warships, small ones. “Most of them are not very large. Made only to drive off pirates. Nothing like our battleships. They have a pair of old cruisers, too. The most formidable weapons to bring against an upstart island. But they are at anchorage, waiting, looking pretty. If some damage were to befall them that made them unable to move, it could take quite some time to fix them.”

“The indiscriminate strike of terrorist bombing,” Di Zucchampo hummed, seated at Antonia’s desk and tapping a pen against his fingers, “The consequences might reach further than you think, if you weren’t careful about who is plotting this operation.”

“I have confidence that the damage will be localized. Modern ships only require a few small pieces to be ruined and unseaworthy.” Good, you seemed to be following up, rather than responding to an unseen person. “Even if the delay is for but a few weeks, that’s enough time to prepare enough for any quick resolution to be hopeless. They’d depend on their debt-slaves giving up, surrendering as soon as their chances looked slim. The longer they have to prepare, the less doubt even the weaker willed have, beaten down by their oppression as they are.”

“Though,” Yena said, “It is not as though they know you initiated this anyways, is it? As far as is known, the only involvement you directly may have is your commitment of your Legion.”
“That is the case.” Though it might not have been for the better. The youth, clamoring for action, responded well to bold and decisive acts. The fact of the matter was that you were not going to be the principal celebrity. It was always going to be that way, but these days, you were rather wary.

“Wary of what? Being replaced? Pushed out from below, just like you pushed those above you? Why not do what served them so well, and strike preemptively?” A figure in the uniform of the Revolutionary League now leaned back in the chair of your desk, feet kicked over the edge. His face was murky- at first you thought it was Di Portaltramanto…but then, it wasn’t the one you hated. You realized who it must have been- the child of his who you didn’t actually recall the appearance of, if you’d even seen him in person. It lent a twisted uncertainty to the specter’s face that made it more alien than it already was, being nonexistent in the first place. “Either be the Revolutionary Man, or don’t. Being that man involves destroying your enemy, even if they claim to be your ally until the moment they stab you in the back. You are a warrior still, not a feeble old man.”

“Is there a reason to hesitate?” Yena asked. You must have been quiet.

“No. The cause is just, no matter who gets the accolades. The future needs all the heroes it can get. No warrior ever won a war by himself, and I’m lucky to have so many comrades to bring the dawn forward with.”

The voice of a woman, the mother of a son, but not your wife. “As long as you do not regret what your comrades may create in the name of Dawn.”

-----

July 12, 1927

Antonia returned the next week- though you wondered, if she was going to be busy, out and about, or even just taking a break for certain days, if you couldn’t dress Yena up in the attire of a secretary and have her assist you in the office sometimes. Along with her came the Luminal in a consistent delivery schedule, so you could finally be at peace without having to be severely distracted otherwise.

“Signore Bonaventura,” your cousin said coolly as she entered the office- later than you, which was not normal, but she had the excuse of just having come into port. She had the bedraggled look of a woman who’d not had the usual access to the morning rituals necessary of a well-dressed lady. The normal ones, not the ones your wife insisted were necessary. “I was expecting to be welcoming you back, rather than the other way around, but I was informed you were no longer needed at Tre Acque.”

“I wasn’t.” You affirmed, taking in the morning light of Lapizlazulli by the window, the sun glinting off of sapphires- for the city was the stone, and the gem was the sea. “If I may ask, cousin, are you seeing anybody, lately?”

Antonia went next to you, but was looking at the faint reflection of herself in the window, adjusting her only slightly imperfect hair. “I see plenty of people. What do you mean by see?”
Best to cut to the chase. “Vicenzo Libero. Or Vicenzo Di Nero, also called Julio Secundo. The commander of the operations soon to begin on Nuvole Blu.”

“Oh,” Antonia tilted her head back, but she had no cigarette to put in her mouth. “That sort of seeing.”

“Business?”

“Not only business,” Antonia said with clipped annoyance, “I don’t know why this was brought to your attention, Signore. I don’t think it necessary to be common knowledge. Who did you hear it from?”

“A friend of mine.”

You were under no obligation to divulge information to somebody who served you, even family, but Antonia clicked her tongue in annoyance anyways. “Vicenzo is a friend of mine as well. No, closer than that. He is…an option, I’ll say. I’m not old enough to settle too quickly.”

An…intimate relation? You knew better than to press. “I was told there might be a danger that he harbors disloyal feelings. The same sort we spoke of when we discussed the dangers that Sabato might present to the League and I.”

“No.” Antonia said flatly, “I don’t think so. Whoever you heard it from…does not know him well enough. He chafes under authority, and he has a preference for independent action, a yearning for heroism and glory. He does not wish to be a king. I know who his father is, and his mother too. He hates them both. The Revolution, your Revolution, is the closest thing he has to home and family.”

She seemed confident, in that she was as level and precise in speech as she ever was in relaying information. Could you trust that information, though?

>If Antonia was certain, you had no reason to doubt her judgment. How much success had come from trusting her? What point was there in suspecting her of conspiracy herself?
>Bluntly speaking, it would be impossible to be as objective as she usually was about a person that she had a “close friendship” with. Your cousin very well could be being used…
>Other?

“Anyways.” Antonia went back to her desk, “Give me one moment before we begin. I need coffee and a smoke, but I can’t delay you any longer than I already have. I’ll familiarize myself with current events and collated resources, updates.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Cousin, I was here early. You aren’t delaying anybody.”

Antonia gave you just a moment of a withering look before she respectfully averted that gaze. “With respect, Signore Bonaventura, I am late for my standards.”

“I only came back, barely announced, yesterday. I order you as Premier Executive to not concern yourself with the first fifteen minutes of the day. I’ll go down and get you coffee.”
“…That would be much appreciated.”

Scalding coffee cups emptied, Antonia lit up a smoke and took a deep breath of it, her eyes flicking rapidly over each page of the reports and turning from one to the next so quickly you couldn’t believe she was getting anything off them at all.

“That will do,” Antonia said as she dug a finger under all the pages and returned to the first. “Let’s begin.”

Firstly, the ordinary- since there was plenty extraordinary to speak about now. The training had continued at Monte Nocca, as well as experience being gained by units in the field. It was a good time to consider what to do with the skill and manpower. Shipments of weapons had been withheld for a small time, beyond what was expected to Trelan- as the war was meant to be wrapping up soon anyways. There was a small delay tolerable where you might use the surplus of armaments to a more direct use- or sell them off for more money. This was relevant particularly when it came to units becoming more ready for bigger and better capabilities…

>The 4th Company of Revolutionary League Militia has reached Grade 4. You may either upgrade it to Revolutionary Fusiliers or Irregulars, or reduce its grade back to 2 and receive two free personnel recruitment rolls for the Aurora Legion, with a modifier of +1 to the d6.
>As a reminder, Fusiliers are frontline, more combat capable units, while Irregulars are more suited to their titular mode of warfare, but also have their armaments upkeep cost reduced back to zero.
>Also, with 6 accumulated training experience, you may trade 4 of the XP for a guaranteed recruitment roll for the Legion. Keep in mind that they are still depleted, and require much more successful recruitment to fully stock their units again before expansion.

The initial subject matter concerned the Revolution’s armed forces- and though they weren’t in any situation nearly as dicey as Interres had been, they were definitely not sitting and waiting for their next commands from yourself. Most of the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia was still engaged in the field, whether it was to the northeast, on Humberto Pescatore’s ongoing expedition to aid the Augustans in expelling foreign intrusion into Vitelian lands, or helping to stabilize and reconstruct the Gabbianos Islands after the forceful expulsion of their former squatter-criminal rulers. Neither were operations that could be cleanly broken away from at a moment’s notice, though they were both set to come to a close by the next month.

Which was why the Aurora Legion was the primary support for the Nuvole Blu uprising- as well as being a private enterprise, unlike the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia’s rather official status as part of Vitelia’s militias, which protected it but also prevented it from engaging openly in such adventurism as this. The Paellans might have been decadent and arrogant, but it would take a fool to openly provoke them when they could strike back at a friend or authority’s coin purse. For this, the most they could retaliate towards was to you, and people who were already enemies of them, as the crown itself could deny any involvement. Indeed, they knew nothing of what would happen.

That was what had been planned, expected though. What was of greater concern was the situation that had been developing over the past few days.

The Tre Acque Conference had come to a close. Much shaking of hands and congratulations towards another were proudly announced in public, and yes, much had been done, but there was no shortage of grumbling, if of obedient sorts. The true troubles came only days later however, from a place completely expected.

In spite of the generous terms afforded to Lindiva, and their conduct in the conference after being mild for lack of anything they could complain about, the terms they agreed to were broken before the ink on the signatures to the Tre Acque Accords had dried. Given authority over their own implementation of societal reforms and not touching their taxation and economic protections, in return for them no longer impeding Revolutionary League organization and operation in their territories, the League youths were ready to proudly march in to begin spreading word of the Dawn, only to be met at the provincial borders and denied entry. Confused and defiant, they then tried to sneak their way in, thinking that it was merely the initiative of some zealous reactionary local officers. This led to detainment, beating, then banishment from Lindiva just as before.

Furious demands for explanations were met with silence and feigned ignorance, but the Lindivan Democratic society was poor at hiding its machinations. On the last day of the Tre Acque Accords, their Provincial Senate had met to immediately implement “emergency measures against conspiracy” which, while not technically crossing the terms they had agreed to, were so broad and wide ranging that they were practically laws to bar anybody they wished from coming into the province, let alone staying there.

Consternation from Revolutionary papers filled the headlines the country over, protesting this obvious deception and betrayal by the upland peoples. Open calls for violent coercion were made in print, and many a League were meeting and discussing marching over to teach the Lindivans a lesson. What was the Army of the Salvation of Vitelia for if not this, they spoke amongst themselves, and your office was flooded with heartfelt letters requesting you, the commander in chief of said force, to abbreviate any other operations and make a march to Lindiva’s borders to protect the children of the Revolution as they embarked to do what they were explicitly permitted to do, by law of the Kingdom approved by the Crown Prince himself acting in his father’s stead.

It was only your reputation as a bringer of order and the desire to maintain the Leagues’ reputation as bringers of peace that prevented riots from exploding all over the country. Protests were organized on the spot, though nobody believed that the outcry from these gatherings would reach any caring ears of Lindivans. Hope stirred when rumor had it that Royal Vitelian Army troops were marching to assemble on the borders of Lindiva, but they were merely sitting and waiting- in a standoff with their Lindivan equivalents who also marched to the border, but neither did anything about the other.

This wasn’t a good time for them to do it, especially not for you. The Nuvole Blu Operation was ready to touch off the moment this controversy started, and the Aurora Legion had all forward deployed in haste to the launches, barges, and flying boats, ready to form the first wave of reinforcement.

“Pescatore has requested to withdraw his expeditionary force from the Auratus to head west,” Antonia read off, “He is quite insistent. Either he’s gained talent and boldness with his success, or he thinks it would be unwise to appear to do nothing when so many call for action. The same is being requested by those deployed on the Gabbianos. Even those still in training, though they can be more readily reasoned with. The only armed forces not clamoring to do something are those making ready for Nuvole Blu.”

Most inconvenient, to say the least. “This would be throwing away much effort in existing good causes to chase after a moment’s glory,” you mused, “And I don’t think we have the strength to defeat Lindiva in the field, even if the Royal Army allowed us to try and contest them, let alone outright attack them.”

“Tensions are extremely high,” Antonia agreed, “Though the good part for you at least is that those who aren’t the excitable Revolutionary Youth are thankful that you are at least being recognized as an authority to pass through. Their sentiment, no matter what the papers claim, is that the Leagues should focus on local troubles rather than seeking out adventure across the country.”

“But the excitable youth would object to that judgment.”

“Signore Bonaventura,” Antonia said with a small touch of wariness, “I believe that it would greatly undermine your authority if you chose to do nothing. Even a measured action might be better than completely holding back. The fighting men are in no mind to wait for cooler heads to prevail. I believe that either pulling away the Expeditionary Force to send west, or the much smaller Gabbianos force is the best action. Not allowing both of them to go on their way, especially since there must be some sort of security in our home provinces beyond the local Leagues.”

“And I imagine Leo’s having plenty of trouble with this too.”

“Signore Leone is…extremely irate with the Lindivans,” Antonia said in an understatement. To say Leo was pissed would be like saying that fire was warm. He was shouting on the phone, so furious that he lost his composure in ranting to you about this. To the point that he was having difficulty keeping calm, and was certainly not directing his own Armed Revolutionary Leagues from taking individual action. “His men are closer, however, and he has more, and more direct control over his part of the Revolutionary League. I’m unsure if I should help him, or if he even needs help, all things considered.”

“The Lindivans are capable in the field, Signore Bonaventura,” Antonia told you, “Engaging them in hostilities would likely not result in success. I only recommend action as a means of venting passions, not because I would expect any particular success.”
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, was it? At least Libero was in for an unambiguous battle soon. Since they were being given the go ahead now, perhaps it would even serve as a vital distraction.

>What else could you do? Trying to chain back your most militant and active Revolutionaries would only turn them against you. Maybe you could make this even work for you if you placed yourself at the head of the new expedition… (This would be extremely risky for you in ways the other choices are not)
>Withdraw the Gabbianos garrisons and allow the most motivated to go with them over towards Lindiva, if they wanted. It would limit the collateral damage that could be done, since those units weren’t the best equipped ones anyways.
>Allow Pescatore and his Expeditionary Force to make the journey over to the border of Lindiva and form a united front with the West. The Lindivans needed to be taught a lesson- but you wouldn’t be risking yourself directly, with the innocent claim of doing all you could to restrain them…
>Forbid any of the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia from doing anything but their present orders. They’d have their desire for seeing theatrics in Nuvole Blu soon enough, though forcing the troops into compliance would earn you no respect for it…
>Other?

>>6276232
>Allow Pescatore and his Expeditionary Force to make the journey over to the border of Lindiva and form a united front with the West. The Lindivans needed to be taught a lesson- but you wouldn’t be risking yourself directly, with the innocent claim of doing all you could to restrain them…

>>6276227
>Bluntly speaking, it would be impossible to be as objective as she usually was about a person that she had a “close friendship” with. Your cousin very well could be being used…
>Other (Decide to trust her judgment anyway. Just make sure she has a contingency in case he turns.)

>>6276228
>Reduce its grade back to 2 and receive two free personnel recruitment rolls for the Aurora Legion, with a modifier of +1 to the d6.

>>6276232
>Other (Don't pull anyone from the Gabbianos or the Nuvole Blu operation from their posts, but get anyone else willing to go and go personally. Make a big deal of it. Give rallies and gather people to travel along the way as you go. Then, demand with the civilian mob and our other troops that the Lindivans step down.)
I don't know, maybe this is overly ambitious in such short notice, and naïve to boot, but I can’t help but feel that what we need isn't a military action.
It's a political one.
They are clearly trying to start a civil war they think they can win, and either already have, or are trying to get, the authority of the crown be against the revolution when it goes down. They are clearly betting on the Revolution being so eager to fight and plan to paint them as unreasonable thugs to justify further violence.
We need to personally preempt this.
The people need to know this and demand that their king side with the Revolution and demand Lindiva step down. All the people of the state, not just the Revolution militias, need to be of one voice about this issue, and Bonnetto is the best guy to get people up in arms.
My hope is that even if the Lindivans don't budge the clear show of popular support will against them will make the crown reconsider just sitting there and doing nothing.

>>6276232
>Other?
Look into how the Lindivans receive payment for services rendered to the crown and general usage of infrastructure and goods. After all they an export focused economy, why reward them or those aligned with them.

If we're careful about it we could intercept goods trains / trucks heading the other way. Also a general boycott, strike action and calls for governmental divestment and petitioning business to find other sources of goods seem like an easy way to return the pressure, without directly leaping to "direct" action

The point is to make clear that one should only do what they can while being mindful of those less fortunate or able to comply.

Also if we figure out at what where goods are offloaded there are further opportunities for spoiling whatever contract they have with the crown.

>>6276232

Antonia (I interpret this as continuing to trust her, but being suspicious of Vicenzo Libero. OOC we've learnt from the Richter threads that spooks can have their own agenda...)
>Bluntly speaking, it would be impossible to be as objective as she usually was about a person that she had a “close friendship” with. Your cousin very well could be being used…

Aurora Legion (we'll need to get them back up to full strength).
>reduce its grade back to 2 and receive two free personnel recruitment rolls for the Aurora Legion, with a modifier of +1 to the d6.
>trade 4 of the XP for a guaranteed recruitment roll for the Legion. Keep in mind that they are still depleted, and require much more successful recruitment to fully stock their units again before expansion.

Lindiva (Pescatore can link up with Leo's troops and gain some more experience and connections)
>Allow Pescatore and his Expeditionary Force to make the journey over to the border of Lindiva and form a united front with the West. The Lindivans needed to be taught a lesson- but you wouldn’t be risking yourself directly, with the innocent claim of doing all you could to restrain them…

>>6276227
>Other (Decide to trust her judgment anyway. Just make sure she has a contingency in case he turns.)

>>6276228
>Upgrade it to Revolutionary Irregulars.

>>6276232
>Look at how the Lindivans receive payment for services. Intercept goods trains/trucks heading the other way, start a general boycott, strike action and calls for governmental divestment and petitioning business to find other sources of goods seem like an easy way to return the pressure.
>Other (Don't pull anyone from the Gabbianos or the Nuvole Blu operation from their posts, but get anyone else willing to go and go personally. Make a big deal of it. Give rallies and gather people to travel along the way as you go. Then, demand with the civilian mob and our other troops that the Lindivans step down.)
>Allow Pescatore and his Expeditionary Force to make the journey over to the border of Lindiva and form a united front with the West. The Lindivans needed to be taught a lesson- but you wouldn’t be risking yourself directly, with the innocent claim of doing all you could to restrain them…

>>6276227
>Bluntly speaking, it would be impossible to be as objective as she usually was about a person that she had a “close friendship” with. Your cousin very well could be being used…
>>6276228
reduce its grade back to 2 and receive two free personnel recruitment rolls for the Aurora Legion, with a modifier of +1 to the d6.
>>6276232
>What else could you do? Trying to chain back your most militant and active Revolutionaries would only turn them against you. Maybe you could make this even work for you if you placed yourself at the head of the new expedition… (This would be extremely risky for you in ways the other choices are not)
Risk!

>>6276232
>If Antonia was certain, you had no reason to doubt her judgment. How much success had come from trusting her? What point was there in suspecting her of conspiracy herself?

>The 4th Company of Revolutionary League Militia has reached Grade 4. You may either upgrade it to Revolutionary Fusiliers or Irregulars, or reduce its grade back to 2 and receive two free personnel recruitment rolls for the Aurora Legion, with a modifier of +1 to the d6.
Upgrade to Fusiliers

>Allow Pescatore and his Expeditionary Force to make the journey over to the border of Lindiva and form a united front with the West. The Lindivans needed to be taught a lesson- but you wouldn’t be risking yourself directly, with the innocent claim of doing all you could to restrain them…

>>6276321
Supporting this.

While i love Antonia, where the matters of heart are concerned, nothing is certain.

Seeing as we do not have full control of the League Army, i say we focus on strengthening Aurora.

>>6276159
Look just because Anya could be called something like a cousin doesn't mean the relation is up for blurring.

On that subject:

>>6276275
>>6276340
Allow yourself to trust her professional competency, so long as she is also prepared to be surprised...

>>6276321
>>6276356
>>6276429
...But her precision cannot be as reliable as it would be for another, can it.

>>6276375
Though has she given any reason to not believe her view is unclouded?

>6276275
>6276321
>6276356
>6276429
Prioritize the Legion- those who share your direction for the Dawn, and the most capable at achieving it.

>6276340
Increase the size of the gorilla group

>6276375
Invest into proper soldiery.

>>6276239
>6276321
>6276340
>6276375
>6276429
Time for the fisher's boy to set sail.

>6276275
Attempt to use the velvet touch, when your iron fist is not large enough to do the job.

>>6276293
Try to hit the Lindivans where they're the most sensitive- their wallets.

>6276340
"Yes."

>6276356
Reign back the dogs- even if they might haul their leash hard enough to sprain your wrists.

I'm pretty sure everybody's done their vote but I'm leaving this open for another few hours anyways to get some stuff done.
I've finally caught up on my sleep debt and woken up in the morning, so that's cool.

Alright, locking it in.
Give me 2 sets of 2d6 for recruitment for the Legion.

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>6276696

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

>>6276696
Letsgo

>>6276702
One more roll of 1d6, as a bonus for that 6 there.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>6276713

There were cleverer ideas, subtler ideas. Ways to pinch Lindiva in ways they couldn’t so brashly defend against, given time. Yet they required a calmer support base, a more pensive band of problem solvers than you had. Part of political leadership, you knew, wasn’t necessarily taking the wisest action as much as the one that looked the best. Not bending to the wind of this particular time would likely result in your enemies having an easier time unseating you. In any case, the Lindivans did deserve to be taught a lesson. Perhaps it was time for your scion in youth leadership to be given a truly trying task.

“We’re going to give the Representative on Mission in the Auratus a new task,” you said, “He will take his force west, as he desires. Though he will not act on any violent initiative. I’ve a plan to maximize our fame and assets both.”

“Peacefully, I should hope,” Antonia said.

“Of course. It’ll all be appearances.” You laid out how Pescatore’s Expeditionary Force could be shadowed by yourself and a procession of civilian unrest- a trek across the country towards Lindiva, where the mass of discontent could be arrayed from all over the nation, as well as the combined might of the Revolutionary Armies of both yourself and Leo. It might also buy time, you thought, for the Legion to be done with its own business, but that would be unlikely. Two weeks would not be enough time for the crisis of Nuvole Blu to blow over.

“Lindiva wants a fight,” you said, “This sort of provocation was handed over easily in Gilicia. Heavy handed responses in the opposition’s own backyard.”

Antonia blinked at you. “Lindiva intends a civil war, you think? That’s hard to imagine. Their economy is clasped onto Vitelia’s like a leech.”

“So was Gilicia’s, and yet. Lindiva is more powerful than Gilicia was, too, and the Royal Vitelian Army is no stronger. It’s a threat they can make, even if they don’t follow through with it. That’s why I need to preempt any violence. To show the people they can overcome this. Not just the common folk, but the crown and cabinet as well. They’re the most afraid of this all going sour.”

“If you’re on this trail, though,” Antonia observed, “You’ll not be in a good place to focus on anything else.”

“I think the other matters can be trusted to the people already handling them,” you said, “Unless you don’t have confidence in Libero?”

“I do.”

A flat and faithful response. You were sure Antonia was loyal to you- but you were also sure she wasn’t perfect now. Her usual caution seemed absent. “I would prefer if you’d plan for if he isn’t though.”

Antonia frowned. “Even if there was a reason to, he’s in a place now where he should only get help, not be impeded or imposed on. But I will try to be wary.”

Her heart wasn’t in that statement, though. There was something deeper than a close friendship, or viewing as an “option.” Alas, you had been taking special medication specifically to not have to look over your shoulder for phantoms. Best to do as you said you should, and focus on what you could do best for the precarious situation.

“So then,” you tapped your papers, “On to the matter of finances. The Revolutionary Council’s sure to be eyeing this coming surplus…”

-----

The next day, you’d made your announcements, the intent to campaign towards Lindiva, trailing Pescatore’s Expedition like a parade. Everybody’s role was understood, and everybody seemed content- though there were those who had to remain behind. Disappointed, but at least not rebelling against your direction. You had seized back the reins of authority.

Which left one matter to take care of, that you’d never been questioned in your command over. The field commander of the Aurora Legion, Commandant Donomo Alga, met with you on the cliffs of Lapizlazulli. You’d be gone from the city tomorrow- and he’d be gone tonight, in the final preparations before the Nuvole Blu uprising kicked off in earnest. That would have its own opening strikes being performed as you spoke. Alga was not dressed in the uniform of the Legion- none of his men would be. A step of deniability, of confusion for the enemy thinking they were any one of numerous Sosaldtian international bands, but when the fighting was done, there would be no secret kept from the world about who was responsible.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Donomo Alga said to the sea, “I should feel bad about saying I don’t miss this place, boss. Was never one for the cities.”

“I can tell,” you said, “Though this place has a good view of the rest, does it not?”

“Mhm.” Alga clasped his hands behind his back, and took in the sea air. “The recruitment’s gone well,” Alga said to you without looking at you, instead still watching the waves making their way forth from the horizon, “We’ve come a long way. It shouldn’t be too long before we reach our full strength from before Stonebreaker, since we’re short roughly a platoon and a half, easy enough to spread out right now. We’ve had wounded returning. Bringing friends. There’s a good mix of old and new, plenty of leader candidates.”

Some wounded would return- others were simply not able to fight anymore, whether it was a trouble of not having the stomach for it, or just a permanent injury. They did not often leave for good, though- the Aurora Legion always needed ever more support personnel, and even a man with one leg and one arm could sit at a desk and handle pay distribution. Or other tasks, particularly one notable one requiring much trust.

“That one of ours who’s going to the other side of the continent, though,” Alga continued, “An honor to be trusted with your son over there. Maybe it’ll take the sting out of not getting back in when we’re about to do something like what we’re about to.”

A fair few mercenaries went on downplaying the severity of injuries that would have removed them from the regular army- and you weren’t about to kick them out for their devotion, but the person you’d be sending along with Lorenzo as an escort and guardian was in no shape to actually fight anymore- else you’d certainly rather have had them in the unit…

>Fortunato Granito, 46 years old, Sea Vitelian, formerly a Platoon Sergeant. A man who served in the War against the Reich, and wounded before Stonebreaker. He had been with the Legion since its inception, but felt age and weariness with war overpowering his will to suffer shellfire after multiple wars- a rather stuffy leader of men near your own age, who was strict but upright. A good Vitelian man to watch over your son in a far-off place.
>Astrida Vang, 20 years old, Nauk-Imperial, formerly a Courier Driver. A rare female warrior, who had lost her dominant arm and thus lost her slim margin of being permitted to fight. A gregarious and cheery young lady nevertheless, since she was from a family of Nauk, perhaps that would help your son find his bearings sooner- though you were risking something, sending a young man in a temperamental phase off with a woman not too much older than him…
>Netanel Arrossato, 19 years old, Trelani, formerly a Machine Gunner. A younger fighter from Trelan, who regrettably could no longer fight in the frontlines from wounds to his organs prohibiting physical overexertion, but as a young man he would have more in common with Lorenzo, and thus perhaps would help ease him in without making him feel quite as alone.
>Other? (Should be plausible)

They’d hardly be unhappy with the responsibility, you expected. The Legion constantly trained and commiserated with new recruits to bring them up to the same standard. Lorenzo would be no different in principle, though certainly younger than even the youngest average recruit.

“How do the men feel about what’s coming up?” You asked, changing the subject slightly.

“The Paellans aren’t fighters, and never have been,” Alga said dismissively. “They might have come from the east like the Dheg, but they’ve taste for wine and honey and milk, not blood. If there’s going to be difficulty, it won’t be in the fighting, and that’s what everybody thinks. They won’t bring anything we haven’t weathered worse against the Fealinnese. Though there’s one thing that I’m worried about, boss.”

“And that is?”

“You’ve taken these measures to keep us from being found out,” Alga pointed to his casual wear, “But a battalion of fighting mercenaries doesn’t pop out of nowhere. If they don’t know when it happens, they’ll figure it out. Paelli is a country of the deluded, but they aren’t that blind. Do you think it will cause trouble for you? Now's not a time you want trouble, I know that much.”

“You know how the Legion’s administration works. It is not tied to nation nor a specific person. Only a cause.” Albeit a cause decided by the Legion’s Patrons- which was actually just yourself and several false names who were also yourself. You had never sent the Legion somewhere they did not accept, and so their democratic vote to protest a decision had simply gone unused. You patted Alga on his sturdy shoulder- he felt far stronger than he had when you’d first put him in charge in Trelan, in body and spirit both. “If the Paellans complain about mercenaries following the scent of coin, then nobody will take them seriously. They send their debtors elsewhere readily enough, and employ sellswords themselves. They have no just argument against this punishment, this rising of those they sought to grind into naught but blue bought in suffering. No songs will question us, Commandant.”

Alga stared determinedly to the sea. “I’d hope not. It’d be a sad world if its future was one where liberation’s seen as a sin.”

“One that won’t come to pass,” you agreed, “It’s too bad that I won’t be able to know every success you have as it happens, but these are turbulent times. I’ll wish you luck as I do my own part. For the future, Commandant. Bring the light of Dawn to those dark isles.”

-----

The last order of business before everything would happen simultaneously, while you still had time to do it- even if you wouldn’t be able to be around the day of. Your daughter Ydela’s birthday was coming in just under a week, and thus it was time for a present. You’d already gotten it, of course, but it was now time to take it from its hiding place, and ready it as a gift. She wouldn’t mind terribly that you wouldn’t be around, being an asocial young lady as she was, but you still wanted to make the absence up to her.

Lately, she’d had an interest in…not history, necessarily, but the archaeological, the mythical, the mystic. She had never seemed to have a mind for the fanciful before beyond the night terrors, but perhaps her time on the holiday in Mare Vitelia had sparked a new interest. Being beneath the ground, after all, meant she couldn’t be burned by the sun…Or perhaps it was the idea of treasures. Her idea of fashion for her age had been gloomy and simple up until now, and she had started to be enchanted by the glitter of gems…even if such shows of wealth didn’t very well befit a lady of the people, you had said.

>What to get Ydela for her birthday? She'll be turning ten years old.

>>6276781
>Netanel Arrossato, 19 years old, Trelani, formerly a Machine Gunner. A younger fighter from Trelan, who regrettably could no longer fight in the frontlines from wounds to his organs prohibiting physical overexertion, but as a young man he would have more in common with Lorenzo, and thus perhaps would help ease him in without making him feel quite as alone.

>>6276782
If we aren't going with the Fancy Knife, how about a music box depicting a young woman in a cave with jewels and such around her? I'm sure Yena can think of a relevant Nief'Yem song for it to play.
Could do both.

>>6276782
>Astrida Vang, 20 years old, Nauk-Imperial, formerly a Courier Driver. A rare female warrior, who had lost her dominant arm and thus lost her slim margin of being permitted to fight. A gregarious and cheery young lady nevertheless, since she was from a family of Nauk, perhaps that would help your son find his bearings sooner- though you were risking something, sending a young man in a temperamental phase off with a woman not too much older than him…
Vang Gang!

>What to get Ydela for her birthday? She'll be turning ten years old.
A leather satchel, small enough for her to carry comfortably and hold any treasures she might find. If possible I would want some cut glass gems studded on it to a a bit of sparkly pizzazz.

>>6276781
>Netanel Arrossato, 19 years old, Trelani, formerly a Machine Gunner. A younger fighter from Trelan, who regrettably could no longer fight in the frontlines from wounds to his organs prohibiting physical overexertion, but as a young man he would have more in common with Lorenzo, and thus perhaps would help ease him in without making him feel quite as alone.

>>6276782
>What to get Ydela for her birthday? She'll be turning ten years old.
Are crystal balls a thing? Maybe some kind of Prince Rupert's Drop that has a bit of blood or something suspended in it hawked by a reputable magician?

>>6276801
+1

>>6276781
>Fortunato Granito, 46 years old, Sea Vitelian, formerly a Platoon Sergeant. A man who served in the War against the Reich, and wounded before Stonebreaker. He had been with the Legion since its inception, but felt age and weariness with war overpowering his will to suffer shellfire after multiple wars- a rather stuffy leader of men near your own age, who was strict but upright. A good Vitelian man to watch over your son in a far-off place.

>>6276782
>Sachet

>>6276781
>Astrida Vang, 20 years old, Nauk-Imperial, formerly a Courier Driver. A rare female warrior, who had lost her dominant arm and thus lost her slim margin of being permitted to fight. A gregarious and cheery young lady nevertheless, since she was from a family of Nauk, perhaps that would help your son find his bearings sooner- though you were risking something, sending a young man in a temperamental phase off with a woman not too much older than him…

>What to get Ydela for her birthday? She'll be turning ten years old.
I like the idea of a cute satchel the other anons suggested

>>6276781
>Netanel Arrossato, 19 years old, Trelani, formerly a Machine Gunner. A younger fighter from Trelan, who regrettably could no longer fight in the frontlines from wounds to his organs prohibiting physical overexertion, but as a young man he would have more in common with Lorenzo, and thus perhaps would help ease him in without making him feel quite as alone.
>What to get Ydela for her birthday? She'll be turning ten years old.
Are hand held mine detectors a thing yet? Might be a bit of a struggle for a ten year old girl to wield one, so if not, I'll go with the bag idea too.
Also, maybe it's time Bonetto confided in Ydela that he, too, sees/hears freaky stuff no one else can

>>6276781
>Astrida Vang, 20 years old, Nauk-Imperial, formerly a Courier Driver. A rare female warrior, who had lost her dominant arm and thus lost her slim margin of being permitted to fight. A gregarious and cheery young lady nevertheless, since she was from a family of Nauk, perhaps that would help your son find his bearings sooner- though you were risking something, sending a young man in a temperamental phase off with a woman not too much older than him…

Birthday Gift
>Either a satchel or backpack, she can use it for school as well.

>>6276791
>>6276804
>>6276929
Get a mosshead for your mosshead.

>>6276801
>>6276805
>>6276920
>>6276947
A touch of acclimation before touching the ground.

>>6276827
Expeditionary old man.

As far as gifts go, it seems to be for the fancy bag- though I will mention the knife. >6276804
>Are crystal balls a thing?
The Cathedra tends to look down on such sorcery as Earth Cultism practiced by Vyemani and Mystics, but they hold popular fascination nevertheless. A Scrying Orb is often set like a globe as part of a Lens, however, to theoretically see into a person's soul, the hue being peered through theoretically able to best tell an accurate kind of fate, such as a blue crystal being able to filter out melancholic energies to see good fortunes. The most well to do fortune tellers have an entire prismatic set, but "wealthy" does not describe many wandering charlatans, who often have cloudy stones or glass, which is a material not accepted to have any scrying power.

>6276929
>Are hand held mine detectors a thing yet? Might be a bit of a struggle for a ten year old girl to wield one
They are extremely new developments and not even in general production, at least for Vitelia, which is a bit behind the general curve for land warfare right now. Ydela would probably just be confused about it even if you could get one from one of the developers.

Anyways, updating.

It wasn’t a particularly complicated gift, but it would be useful, and you hoped, appreciated for that. A leather satchel bag, tough enough to withstand abuse, with an adjustable strap so it would grow with her when needed, a large flap with a white lily flower in embroidery, resin and brass emblazoned upon it, to ensure it wouldn’t be mistaken for anybody else’s. It might not have been covered in gold or diamonds, but it was a pretty thing nevertheless.

Lorenzo had gotten her a stone knife- more a curio than anything actually useful, the sharp edge was something from distant prehistory but the handle was braided beads and similar mountainfolk décor motifs. He had showed you it while you were introducing him to his new traveling companion.

“This is Soldata Autiere Vang, Lorenzo,” you gestured to the brown haired, speckled woman beside you. “Her family hails from Naukland. She’ll be helping you get along before and during your university time.”

“Oh no, is okay,” Vang said in broken Vitelian, “Astrida is for friend and friend is Lorenzo, no? How good you speak Old Nauk, Lorenzo boy?”

Miss Vang was rather plain by Vitelian standards, Nauk women tending to be rounder and hairier than Vitelian preference, but she had a softness to her that even modest clothing like you’d mandated couldn’t hide away- and Lorenzo was trying not to stare at the empty sleeve where Vang’s arm had been amputated at the shoulder, after everything below was mangled by a shell that had also deafened her in one ear. That hearing loss made her a loud speaker.

“I can…” Lorenzo cleared his throat and looked meek as he switched languages, “I can speak in New Nauk, if you know that.”

“Oh!” Vang’s thick, furry eyebrows raised and her blue eyes went wide and bright, “That’s much easier then. That’ll make learning Old Nauk nice and easy too.” Her eyes went over Lorenzo, “Hey, you take really good care of your hair, for a boy. Not like most mossheads I see. It’s so nice and shiny and long,” Longer than hers was, at that. “Can I touch your-”

“No.” You said sharply and Vang snapped her advancing hand back like it had been bitten at by an alley mutt.

“Oh, sorry, boss,” She said, turning and bowing her head, “That wasn’t appropriate of me.”

“He is not that young, Soldada,” you said critically, “Treat him as a charge, not a pet. Is that clear?”

“It could not be clearer, Herr Bonaventura.”

“And you,” a glance towards Lorenzo, “Miss Vang is doing both of us a great favor. Show her the respect she deserves. Understood?”

“…Er, yes.” Lorenzo averted his eyes. He wasn’t a rebellious young lad, but you had tolerated Marcella getting too familiar with your son, and you were going to lay down some barriers preemptively if you weren’t going to be around. The Nauk were a more prudish people, but in some places in Vitelia, Lorenzo was only a year away from being acceptable prey for the opposite sex in Vitelia, and some of them dared to prepare their quarry to catch ahead of time. Young men looked at this the way young men did- as you did- the reckless way. Lorenzo might have acted meek, but you had a good feeling he had stirrings of his age as bold as any boy. He was your son, after all, and Yena’s too.

“It’ll be an adventure for both of us, Herr Boss’s Boy,” Vang gained back her chipper attitude, a grin spreading across speckled cheeks, “I haven’t been back in a while, even though the folks come from there going back to the Great Voyage. We’ll have a bit before you start school, right? We’ll know Stor Ankomst like the backs of our hands!” She grabbed her empty sleeve and raised it, “Just don’t ask me what this one looked like, I forgot, heh heh.”

“Are you…” Lorenzo was still getting used to Vang’s cheery attitude, which he didn’t get from strangers much. “Are you related to Sigmund Vang? The Republican theorist?” Sigmund Vang was rather too fond of appeasement and compromise for your tastes, but he did have a mind for the people over the old order. The gentler natured flocked to his text, though he’d only written one book with any reach.

“Sure! He’s my…” Vang counted off on her fingers, “Second cousin..? He’s my grandma’s nephew’s son or something. But I uh, never met him.” She held her hand up defensively, “My folks weren’t fans of how he wanders around with his political causes, said he was a bad influence, but then I went and did what I did, hee. Good thing they don’t live in the capital, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Here’s hoping that isn’t genetic.” You said bluntly, “Go on, Lorenzo, I’ll catch up to you at the trolley stop.”

Vang watched Lorenzo back off carefully, turning and glancing over his shoulder, as you spoke to Vang.

“I didn’t mean to be so familiar, Boss,” Vang said apologetically, “I’m just glad to be out of the hospital bed, doing something so important. Thought my life was over when I lost my arm, you know. Can’t even write good with this one I got left.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright. Just remember, he’s my son.”

Vang puffed her chest out and clenched her fist to her breast. “I won’t let nothing happen to him, boss. I’ll break my ribs open and let the seabirds pick my chest clean while I’m still breathing if I fail, swear it.”

That sort of drama wasn’t necessary, Stor Ankomst was an affluent and safe city, if culturally closed up, but at least Vang took her duty as gravely as she could.

-----

July 16, 1927- 0330 Hours, Nuvole Blue Isles

There was no going back now. The fatal, decisive strike had already been made. The Lord Prince of Nuvole Blu’s three islands was freshly strangled, his face blue and his tongue bloated as Incursor-Capitano Vicenzo Libero kept the wire and silk garotte wrenched tight two minutes after the kicking and squealing had stopped and the fat Paellan noble had gone limp. Finally, he released his implement and drove his boot into the corpse’s back to send it sprawling to the ground, then stomped on its neck for good measure. The wet crack from under Vincenzo’s boot was meant to be businesslike- but he couldn’t help but imagine for only a moment, that it was his father’s bones giving way instead of this greedy, cruel pig, one who only differed from past Princes of this place by being unlucky enough to have lived here and now.

Vicenzo picked up the telephone after spinning the dial only twice, a special landline that this noble had been awaiting good news from. If he hadn’t been eliminated, he wouldn’t be hearing it anyways. “This is the Red Prince,” he spoke, “We have control of the Brain and Heart.”

“Good.” A hushed voice came over the other end of the line, “Is the host gracious for your entry?”

Vicenzo looked over to the ugly body, the blue and gold tight-fitted clothes binding what was looking more and more like a wet sack of garbage. “As much as can be. Ready terms for excusing him. Best for his friends to think twice before thinking he’s absent yet. What’s the news from the beach ladies? Are they dressed in suitably dazzling barely-theres?”

“No eyes nor ears yet.” Damn. The schedule was tight, yes, but when the operation’s most vital phases had to unfold within an hour, each moment had its seconds stretched to aching length.

“Ring me the moment you know.” Vicenzo hung up the phone, unable to do anything now but wait. His subordinate officers were already busying themselves with anything he’d have advice or aid for, and with the men being picked specifically for talent, he would only obstruct them by trying to find ways to help. He would simply dream for a bit, sitting in the high backed, velvet cushioned chair and looking out the window to the corpse’s little empire of suffering.

Vincenzo didn’t feel like a hero for slaying this dragon. The Judge Above would vouch that the Lord Prince had deserved it. He was a foul little ball of slime, not just a harsh overseer or an apathetic taskmaster, but a partaker in his own personal share, his own indulgences, perhaps a man could not rule this place without being evil, but it had been not so much a triumph as it had been dirtying one’s hands picking up excrement.

The image of his mother came to mind- how she always regarded him. A look of mixed feelings but both ending in utter revulsion. Vicenzo had two siblings, an older and younger brother, but mother had spited him uniquely, for how he meshed her two most hated people together. He couldn’t hate his mother for that though. He loved his mother, he wanted so become a hero so he could save her from her wretched fate, but it was Di Portaltramanto that wrote, inviting him to his side- not mother, who must have thought her situation naught but just punishment, from how her eyes fell on her third.

The telephone rang shrilly, for not even a second as Vicenzo picked it up. “Speak.”

The next words were vital for how this operation was going to go. The Uprising was already in progress, the key points already seized by special teams, and the Premier Executive’s own private troops were already on their way, expecting minimal resistance to clear out before they could help prepare a defense. How that defense would go would depend entirely on how much damage he was about to be told had been done to the Paellan’s marine reaction forces.

>Roll 4 sets of 1d100. DC is roll over 25- the higher over the DC you make it, the greater the damage. The first two are for smaller ships, the last two are for each light cruiser the Paellans have in dock.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>6277424
Is this some sort of attack that can go right on enemy boats? We shall see.

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>6277424

>>6277424

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>6277424
Whoop

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>6277424

I didn't quite manage to get this update done before it was time for me to get to work- apologies, I keep going back and forth on just how much it's covering. I'll have it out when I get back.

Part of the long-term plans for what was finally happening was to address the Paellan’s main response to an island insurrection- which was cutting it off from any supply. The Nuvole Blu were crammed full of debt prisoners like eels in a pot, purposefully made so that there was no hope of it possibly sustaining itself without daily shipments of necessities. Restriction of food and water had already been a method of control made by everybody from the actual authorities down to the prisoner gangs that ran the most wretched lower tunnels, who still could strangle what little trickled down to that most awful place. The stores made for the overlords to hold out in a siege would be drained within a day if shared out to the freed people- the seas had to be clear of the enemy, or at least, have them unable to maintain a full blockade.

So meticulous preparation had gone into infiltrating the harbors and docks where the Confederation of Princes kept their reserve fleet that would be used for that, what wasn’t already out protecting their vital trade lanes. Cutters and frigates, mostly, little use in an actual naval engagement but enough to stop smugglers from sailing where they pleased. Most vital to remove from the coming days were the pride of the Paellan fleet though- a pair of old light cruisers, which while deprecated compared to other navies, were armored and armed well enough to dominate the seas around Nuvole Blue singlehandedly, and even able to provide support to landing parties with their cannons. Defending against that would already be trying enough- for all the manpower Nuvole Blu had, there was precious little space or time to have trained even the slightest bit of a defense force able to use what weapons had been smuggled in. More weapons would come, more ammunition, but there were no heavy weapons, no coastal batteries, far too little to resist a hostile landing party if the Paellans committed to one.

Which Vicenzo presumed they would. He had been involved with Nuvole Blu for near four months, long enough to understand the nature of the wealth it extracted. A blood price was to be had for anybody at all who wanted to take it, for any reason. Paellan society would rather ruin themselves maintaining their blue hues than suffer them to fade.Even the prisoner gangs, victims themselves who had been the indirect driving hand of the Princes’ extraction operations and whose turning was vital to gaining nominal control of Nuvole Blu, expected to be able to sell their product on better terms rather than shutting down this awful place altogether.

It put a bad taste in Vincenzo’s mouth to have to work with them, but their time would come. Just not right away. The bargain with them was a necessity, and terms had at least been ironed out that would involve humane treatment for the laborers who would have to remain. Once this battle was won.

These months for Nuvole Blu had been a trying time for a hopeful Revolutionary. The isles were despairingly grim no matter if viewed from above or below, and more than once Vicenzo and his fellow operatives and analysts wondered if there was an inherent cruelty to the Paellan people that would make a picturesque rebellion here impossible, but they had hammered together something now. Mostly in the newcomers’ hope and the potential gain for the greediest, those who survived and thrived here rather than disappearing into the mines of despair. The scum that floated atop the muck of what was society here, in the cavern-towns that swarmed with humanity like anthills, the tenement clusters on the surface sequestered away from the villas and harbors, constantly collapsing and rebuilding like sand castles in a rainstorm. A prison colony did not simply dig up ore and survive for nothing else, after all, and embedding themselves into this symbiotic under-structure had been how Vicenzo had been able to get himself and his operators into the Prince’s Palace in the first place- why the Lord Prince was dead at his feet.

None of that would matter if the bombs hadn’t crippled the reserve fleet though.

“The tip of the peninsula’s got a hot party on right now,” the phone said, “North of that has some spice too, but it’s not the place to be.” In other words, the closest task for received a lot of damage and would be out of this fight, and the other task force of smaller warships had been dealt with, but less successfully. Some would still be a factor in the coming days. The explosives placed near or on them weren’t meant to destroy them rather than damage them enough to keep them in port for a while, but Vicenzo didn’t mind at all if some did more damage than expected.

“And the prime ladies of the event?” He asked after the cruisers, which seldom left port save for celebratory or performative occasion, but they were kept in fighting condition.
“They’ve been delayed. Not for long. The dusky one will be out in a week, the pale in two, probably.”

That wasn’t good. That meant the Ciatennlongo hadn’t been badly damaged enough by the sabotage mission to stop it up for long. Accelerated repairs could have it out very soon indeed, but at least it wouldn’t be on its way for a little bit. The Dantennlongo was similarly not badly put up, immobilized for longer. The ideal situation would be if they were sunk in port and thus would be disabled for months, but apparently security had been too tight for anything but attempts made from the outside.

“Send the signal to the latecomers.” The Aurora Legion’s vanguard, in flying boats, waiting to be told to land and coast to the shore where guerilla operatives had secured a quiet entry. “Tell the shop that all’s going as it should.” No need for headquarters to know of the less successful parts of this operation yet. “That’s all.”

“Understood. Look to the Horizon, Red Prince.”

Vicenzo hung up the phone, and turned to leave the room with its corpulent occupant sprawled where he’d fallen. He wouldn’t be getting hung from a pole quite yet. Out in the dim light of the prison colony to the north, crowded and clumped together like a hive of insects, candles and incense and whatever wealth of light could be scavenged or smuggled twinkled dimly like stars. People were awake later than often- but none of them knew yet what had happened. If they did, there would surely be rioting, looting, devastation before sunrise even came up. They could not think they were free yet.

He wondered if the world would have to be the same when the Dawn came.

-----

July 16, 1927- 0400 Hours, the Seas near the Nuvole Blue Isles

A dim red lamp lit up the packed flying boat’s guts, full to the brim with fighting men and their tools of war. The hue was to protect the night vision of the men, since even though the Vitelians had promised there would be barely a fight if any to get on, Captain Kort Schoenbijter knew enough war to expect nothing to go right just because of self-assurance. All these men, his picked vanguard of Sosaldt wastelanders veterans, knew better. If things turned out easier than expected, that just meant you got lucky that one time. Gamblers didn’t win more than one battle.

It was only the one boat- all that Schoenbijter needed. One plane, with the best pilot, to try and glide in quietly. A mass assault for the opening just wasn’t right for this by his reckoning. Not against an enemy he knew little about besides that they were rather unobservant, if they let their command structure get decapitated and the rest of the islands hadn’t even heard about it yet.

Schoenbijter knew a little of Paelli and its people. In what the Vitelians called their Second Empire, it had been a client, like their provinces today were, but then the Shattering came around and the entire world went belly up- save for the Princes of Paelli, who eventually found themselves richer than the rest of the Empire. So when the Second Empire ended, Paelli was spat out of it, wealthy and relatively unhurt by the events that brought the continent to its knees. Their people were of the west, like Dhegyar were, but with breeding not nearly as colored by intermixing in Vinstraga so they looked properly like whence they came. Their disposition was western too, so he’d heard.

Sure, they said they followed the Cathedra and the Saints, but they had a sort of callousness and selfishness to them that seemed an obligation to their society rather than born of particular sin, said to be why they migrated in the first place from the west. That was why they even had a place like Nuvole Blu- needed it, for its output of their most famous aesthetic preference.

“Listen up, fellas,” he announced to the plane as the lights blinked within, indicating a signal they were descending, about to hit the beach. It was refreshing to be able to speak New Nauk and have everybody know what was said. “We’re here to do good. We’re being paid well to not wreck or ruin anything. Remember that before you start smash and grabbin’ the gold and jewels and underclothes, got it? We’ll be remembered for what we do here. Not like back home. Now let’s smash some chains.”

The slow rise then thump, as the flying boat settled into the water to coast towards the southernmost island- not the largest, nor the heart of production, but where goods came and went. The most vital piece to seize first. The low and flat island was one of the few where the seas didn’t turn stony and treacherous close to shore when a boat’s draft was too great. As Schoenbijter peered out the window, checking his submachinegun in the little elbow room he had, he muttered to a man to get the wireless set ready. The Commandant had to know what was happening as soon as it passed.

-----

July 16, 1927- 0445 Hours, the Seas near the Nuvole Blue Isles

“Schoenbijter and Fourth Company have landed and taken control of the harbor, Commandant,” one of Donomo Alga’s radio operators relayed back to him, “They’re waiting for us to come in. No resistance thus far, any watchmen or patrols have surrendered without a fight.”

“Understood. I don’t have anything to add, just tell him it’s acknowledged.” Alga said, moving a piece on a map. The headquarters he operated from was an innocent looking fishing trawler that had been loaded up with equipment from the Mobile Headquarters Unit and turned into a floating communications relay and hub- on loan from its owners from islands elsewhere. The Legion’s founder and patron had spent much time and effort and money making friends in the Vitelian Sea, and it was paying off for Alga and his fellows. The same allies had provided the transports and barges that the rest of the Legion, as well as the heavy weaponry was floating in upon, though Fourth Company had landed ahead in flying boats that were directly affiliated with the Revolutionary League. Albeit hastily disguised in the colors of the Southern Cities mercenary coalitions. Also involved were floatplanes providing reconnaissance, and detailing any marine traffic, including the boats that were unwittingly going to be part of the plan here.

“Make sure we don’t scare off any of the transports coming in,” Donomo said as he moved a few ships that were on particular schedule, “They’ll want that food, and we’ll need to not be in the way.” He leaned over the map and the table it was on as a wave splashed against the trawler and tipped it precariously. “There’s not a storm on, is there?”

“No. Just a rough patch.”

A shame, a storm coming on might have helped. Or perhaps it should have come a bit later. The Legion had become involved in this rather late, so not everything was known, but he’d been assured that this Uprising had been meticulously planned. “Get Schwarzehand on the line, we just need one last review of what’s going on. Can we get the Rebellion on the radio? Should we be worried about interceptions?”

“Nuvole Blue had no wireless sets,” an aide reminded, “Besides the ones the infiltrators brought with them. Low power ones, we’ll need to get in range of the Palace to talk. Besides that, their communications are just an underwater telegraph line to the mainland. The reserve line from the garrison fort was cut before this started. Not even by our people. They found it decayed to uselessness when they inspected it.”

These Paellans would be a far cry from the Fealinnese for certain.

“Lieutenant Colonel Schwarzehand is on the line, Commandant,” a radio operator called for Alga’s attention, and he marched over and snatched up the set, donning the headphones.
“Tenente Colonello,” Alga greeted, “You’re to be landing soon. Let’s just go over one more time what our tasks are. We’ll split responsibilities as we discussed.”

The Aurora Legion had been given a series of requests by the Rebellion on Nuvole Blue- they’d been ready to succeed before the Legion had gotten involved, it was claimed, but since they were there, they’d appreciate help on certain objectives, they’d said. There were too many for all of them to reasonably be taken at once- unless the Legion felt particularly daring, but ideally, as many as possible would be overcome while the iron was still hot.

Firstly, there was securing the Palatial Island. While the elite troops involved had managed to secure the Palace estate and any way to talk to the outside, they necessarily couldn’t chase down the Prince’s guard garrison and round up his personnel on the rest of the island. A simple task, probably, but one that they needed the support of numbers to accomplish. The guard garrison numbered no more than a hundred and lacked any heavy weapons- they wouldn’t be a problem to fight even if they did decide to make a battle out of things, which they could very well decline to.

Secondly was securing the tunnels. This was possibly the most difficult, sprawling order of business, because said caverns extended between the islands, under the sea and under rock, and though they were mostly inhabited by the debt-slave miners who carved out the Paellans’ desires from the stones around them, there was also numerous guard stations and overseer headquarters down there. They could be stopped up and forgotten about, yes, but the Rebellion would prefer having their enemies accounted for, and there were surely plenty down there, if scattered- perhaps two hundred fifty in all. Claustrophobic, but simple as long as the lights didn’t go out. The Trelani troopers and other mossheads were extremely wary of going there, though- they had some unease regarding the sea in the first place, and going beneath it was an idea that seemed to unsettle some of them more than combat did.

Then there was the difficult prize- the garrison fortress on the largest island, which was also the home of numerous weapons and military supplies such as munitions, enough to be able to equip many ad-hoc militia, as the only thing this island would have soon enough was a huge amount of people. As it stood, the Rebellion had considered trading sheer mass of people to take over the place, or to besiege it- the final option of using infiltrated agents to sabotage and blow up the magazines was seen as a last resort and most unideal, compared to seizing the assets. Though it was the most defensible and highest concentration of the enemy, on top of the highest rocky hill, overlooking the rest of the colony. They were, like the rest of the island, unaware as of yet what was happening, but the window where they could be taken by surprise was closing. Seizing the place in a coup de main, landing near the fort with sea craft and flying boats in an attack striking at the same time as other landings, was the only hope of not putting it to siege or having to battle a fortified and prepared foe. There was only enough flying boats to transport one company’s soldiers, though, and without their heavy equipment. If any more were committed, they would be delayed in their participation.

Finally there was the matter of securing the harbor itself, that had been freshly taken. Of all the parts of Nuvole Blu, it was the one with the least defensible terrain, so it would have to be fortified. It also had the most developed harbor structure, so keeping it in friendly hands was paramount to success even if the warship response had been largely neutralized. It wouldn’t matter if there were no cruisers on the horizon yet if a force of mercenaries and conscripts could simply land unopposed.

Trying to take on every objective might have been possible with five companies, but since each had around two hundred and thirty fighting men, spreading each unit out meant not having a vital numerical advantage. A legionary might have easily been worth three of his Paellan foe in a fight, but good troops were best used with every advantage they could get, including that of outnumbering and thus outpositioning. Compounding that was the fact that the Legion was technically a company down, Schoenbijter’s 4th Company split between the others as reinforcements and replacements, and to utilize new equipment, as well as devoted to his opening strike. The tanks from the past days in Holherezh had been sold off, and their despondent crews made to work in support positions, such as the vital new Headquarters and Communications unit, them having the skills for it even if they bemoaned the dullness. For this operation, there were fewer pieces on the board, though not necessarily fewer men. The heavy mortars were also a new piece of kit- they weren’t expected to be useful in the opening engagements, but some enterprising artillerists had converted their transports into bombard ships anyways, in hopes that they wouldn’t be put to anything boring.

>Deploy your forces for each operation. You may place up to two companies in each operation- you may leave any amount unmanned.
Also-
>Address anything else and/or prepare/investigate other matters?

>>6278433
>Me trying to remember the particular personalities and combat proclivities of each of the platoons from the last thread's combat.
Damn it, let me go back and check that out.
The only thing I remember for sure is that Arietta is good at defensive maneuvers.

>>6278433
>3rd company to fortify the harbor
>The craziest mfers to attack the garrison
>The mortar company to support them
>Out of the rest, split out all the mossheads to secure the Palatial island, and send the rest into the tunnels

>>6278433
Will throw my vote behind this >>6278499 before I go bed
>>6278432
>pneumatic spud mortars clinging on into the late 20s
Once again, PCQ delivers the goods

>>6278433
>Deploy your forces for each operation. You may place up to two companies in each operation- you may leave any amount unmanned.
1st company with Mortar company support attack the Garrison Fortress at A.
2nd and 5th companies clear out the tunnels at B.
3rd company set up for defense at D.
Let the rats scatter on the Palatial Island, with the docks and tunnels controlled they have nowhere to go. Who knows, if let starve for a week they may just give up.

>Address anything else and/or prepare/investigate other matters?
Is there any chance to smuggle out any Blue to try and leverage desperate Paellans with? If their blue heads began to fade would some not turn to sabotaging themselves? Could some politicians be promised a supply for support or smugglers lured to the islands to exchange for food?

>>6278605
I like this plan. Supporting

>>6278605
>>6278433
>+1
I support this plan because you bothered with cropping it out and that makes my image centered brain activate.

>>6278605
Supporting

>>6278499
Supporting this anon.

Also i wanted to ask how deep/extensive are the tunnels? If the task of securing them with few men is too risky i would say just trap them there and demand their surrender, claiming that the isles have surrendered and their relief ships are sunk.

>>6278481
He only gives mind to the lady...

>>6278499
>>6278590
>>6278813
Keep the greens in the sun. Well, the moon, and divide to all the rest.

>>6278605
>>6278728
>>6278746
>>6278797
As above, but concentrate on the tunnels and leave the stragglers to linger.

The questions will be addressed in context, but for this one-
>how deep/extensive are the tunnels?
The caverns are very, very large for what they are, and they've been well refined for industry and living. They theoretically go very deep, and are very extensive...but the only part that's being concerned with is where the mining operations and undercity settlement is.

Updating!

As much as the Uprising might have liked to have the island that hosted the Palace of the Prince down tight, it seemed less relevant than any other objective. There weren’t enough of the Paellan guard there for them to be a true threat, and eventually, they would likely surrender anyways. They’d be less likely to do that if they thought they had other places to escape to, or reinforcements on the way. That was why the fort and the tunnels took precedent.

As did the harbor on the southern island of Piede di Blue- the name of that along with the name of the palatial island being “the navel island” made one wonder if there was an intention of perversion or not. The names wouldn’t stick if this revolution succeeded, Alga thought. The “feet” of the islands would be held by Third Company, the Green Gunners under Captain Arietta, what with their particular expertise being in static fighting, as well as them being made up near totally of mountainfolk who were the wariest of going into the tunnels.

Not that Dulechamp and his Fifth Company, the Reds, were happy about their part. The romantically inclined Emrean officer would have most enjoyed leading the daring assault to capture the enemy’s strong point, but his unit’s close combat focused weaponry proportions meant they were best suited to the claustrophobic confines of the caverns- even if, supposedly, much of the important parts of the caverns could swallow up towns and their countrysides, in an image the Commandant couldn’t fathom being under stone and sea. They’d be down there with the Raiders of Second Company, Captain Waltz having the subtler touch that could be of good use down in the dark.

The prestige of taking the fort and wiping out any hope for the Paellans to smother this rebellion in its crib went thusly to First Company and Captain Ponte. The most veteran and most cohesive of the Legion, with a resolute leader, but who was admittedly discomforted by the idea of a marine assault, let alone one launched with flying boats and mortars carried on barges. Not that he lacked dutiful confidence, but his idea of an assault wasn’t one that was so unorthodox. This was a sort of attack that, by Alga’s reckoning, had never been done in the first place, so only an idiot would be comfortable anyways. Dulechamp had wanted quite badly to be part of something so historic, though.

He'd have his chance. Right now, everything was about to happen at once. As Second and Fifth company would descend into the depths after landing on the central island, the fort would be under attack from a direction that even seasoned soldiers couldn’t see coming- and they were no such thing as that.
While it wasn’t Alga’s place to decide such things, while he waited for events to play out, his headquarters trawler was pushed close enough to the middle of it all that he could engage in small talk with the Uprising’s leadership.

Theoretically, they were Vitelian and not Paellan themselves, but Alga nor anybody else had actually been told who they were, besides that it was being led by a “Red Prince.” It could have been a Utopian minded Paellan Prince, Alga supposed, but that seemed rather like a vegetarian vulture. In any case, they were in the know.

Firstly was the importance of what Nuvole Blu produced- a sort of mineral (…or mold? Whatever it was, it had to be dug up) that could be made into a dye that fixed itself strongly and brilliantly to hair in particular, though it was said that some dared to place it on their skin or in their eyes, even eat it. The appearances-valuing nature of Paellan culture combined with their tendency to look quite similar as dark haired dusky westerners made coloration an invaluable way of expressing their identity, especially their wealth. Not unlike how some Sea Vitelians bleached their hair, Alga supposed, but bleach was cheap, and Sea Vitelian eyes came in all colors, unlike Paellans. Yet turning the hair blue was only the beginning, since the dye had a tendency to, despite being a variable sort of vivid and lustrous in the short term, fade within days to an unseemly blue-grey color like ocean fog that seeped into the roots and persisted for years. It didn’t sound like an unpleasant hue to Alga, but to Paellans, it was apparently a horrifying and disgusting appearance, akin to having one’s beauty age from them, or their wealth vanishing, both in mere moments.

Nuvole Blue was apparently not the only place to get this precious dye’s components, but it was by far the most productive of it. So surely, that could be used as leverage?

Indeed such was the case, Alga was told, and though he wasn’t going to be informed of the exact plan, Nuvole Blu would continue to produce, even now. Though not in the exploitative fashion that it had been doing so. Not in a way that would make its owners and patrons so incredibly wealthy as it had, which meant that Paelli would require convincing of the plan’s merits. Until then, there would be no shipments off the island…to Paelli, at least. Some pirates and smugglers had been preemptively informed that there would be potential for some lucrative trade, in exchange for basic necessities bought cheaply elsewhere.

Alga certainly hoped for that to be so simple. The Legion’s troops had to eat too after all.

-----

July 16, 1927- 0500 Hours, Isla Ombellica

Captain Dulechamp was keeping a closer eye on his pocket watch than on coordinating his men’s preparations- but Captain Waltz didn’t bother trying to scold him. Dulechamp might have been an arrogant Emrean, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Do you have a date with a beauty soon, Emrean?” Waltz asked in the Imperial tongue- he knew any Emrean like Dulechamp was well versed in it.
Without looking away from the hands of time, Dulechamp sighed and lamented in pain, “Ah, I ought to, but instead I head into the embrace of the earth. I ought to be headed to a beach, but instead, it’s to the dank and dripping mines, and not even towards the crowds awaiting the approach of their champions. Instead, what waits on the other side of my caverns is an owl-eyed lady of books and studies, at best. Perhaps I will at least be done in time to see the sunrise…” He glanced up towards the edge of the sea, “But with how the light is approaching even now, I doubt even one of the Errant Audacieux could sweep through so quickly.”

“You don’t think that patrol bases and wary prison gang militia will give you any trouble, do you?” Waltz asked jokingly.

“No, but I will be assailed by a particularly deadly attack of boredom, for certain,” Dulechamp sighed as he looked to his watch again. “Captain Ponte will be leading a most historic endeavor up the sides of the island to our north. His victory will surely eclipse all of ours. What a terrible shame! I wish you luck, Imperial, to not die of boredom yourself on your way to the main event.”

Waltz didn’t bother correcting Dulechamp on a Fealinnese being distinct amongst Imperial provincials. Emreans did not care a whit. To them, there was always Emre, then the rest of the world. Even the Reich might not have been great were it not for Emre being within it…and perhaps, depending on how history played out, they might be correct on that.

“Best of luck then,” Waltz said, but added a challenge, “I’ll tell you how the sunrise looked when you reappear.”

Dulechamp got some energy back as he grimaced at Waltz. “I cannot allow that to happen. I’ll not let an Imperial declare that he will outpace me, and then resign myself to his will. No, not today.”

The faint sound of a far-off explosion, to the north. All the soldiers around looked up and listened in silence. The makeshift-bombards, the barges with the mortars aboard, beginning their part just before First Company would make their attack- against an enemy more numerous than they, but less well equipped, not so experienced, and certainly not as ready for a fight. Especially since the pneumatic mortars worked off a curious principle that made them exceptionally quiet for their destructive potential- the bombs dropping now had no equal in the sudden shock they were now surely spreading.

“I was thinking that we would be the first to alert the enemy,” Dulechamp said with a sigh of mock disappointment, “But I suppose that goes to Ponte now. No more dallying, the enervation of anticipating the underground has slowed us quite enough.”

>Roll 5 sets of 1d100, higher is better. Respectively, they are for each company’s performance in their role in the operation. The first two are for 1st Company and the Mortars, the next two are for 2nd and 5th, and the final one is for 5th’s seemingly innocuous role.
>DC is roll over 20 for all of them, but actually failing will be difficult- this is more for gauging the degree of success and quickness had.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>6279132
Can you dig it?

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>6279132

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>6279132

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>6279132

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>6279132
Please let this not be the only one to fail.

>>6279132
Those degenerates never stood a chance.

You WILL be liberated
You WILL see the dawn
You WILL NOT enslave people
You WILL NOT dye your hair blue

The dawn of July 16th over Nuvole Blu had the sun shining upon a new flag atop the old fortress on Isla Blurosso, a pair of improvised sheet banners, red and yellow, that had displaced the colors of Paelli and the Prince’s Arms. The fighting had been audible to Alga, off the southern coast, but there hadn’t been too much of it. Any battle had been sporadic and short lived. Ponte gave his report soon enough on that: his men had taken the garrison by such surprise, that combined with the shocking effect of quite sizeable mortar bombs from nowhere, the gates were practically unmanned and much of the garrison was either in their cots or hiding when his first platoon swept into the fort commander’s headquarters and captured him and his entire staff. Casualties were minimal on both sides. A textbook victory, Ponte called it, but that was his measure of quality rather than anything accurate to what his assault would be shown as a classical example in. The effect of the mortars had been rather minimal outside of their shock, though, as they hadn’t damaged much or wounded many at all. Better that way, perhaps.

This victory was offered to the Red Prince on a platter- almost five hundred prisoners, officers included who might be particularly valuable in ransom, the arsenal with its weapons and ammunition (none of it was better than what the Legion already had) and the various luxuries held within. Given the hint that warships might come around, the Commandant was eager to prepare the fort as a strongpoint for the Legion, as it would be the only place fortified against cannon fire that wasn’t underground and undersea. Just a bit of creative thinking told Alga that hiding in caverns underwater might be a bad idea against an enemy with ships and bombs, especially those without much moral minding to their character.

Of course, the Uprising’s allies were already clamoring at the gates for their share of weapons, but the Red Prince had specifically instructed to keep them out. The means of defense were to be given to those who could be trusted with them, as not to enable any opportunistic banditry or power struggles. Nuvole Blue, after all, was still a hoard of wealth both upon it and yet to be extracted.

Down below, 2nd Company had emerged from under the northern island and its stack-cities extremely quickly indeed. Avoiding getting entangled in various branches, they had stormed the main lines of communication, the underground electric-rails, and had dispatched of any obstacles more with knives than with guns. Even as their progression necessitated leaving parts of the company behind to keep their trail secure, they encountered no serious enemies that could actually hold them up.

That was somehow not the case for the Crimson Blazers, the 5th Company. Not that what they encountered of Paellan gendarmes or gangers wasn’t easily swept aside, but that they encountered…something else.

“Somebody else took exception to our forceful advances, Commandant,” Dulechamp said impatiently over the radio, “Somebody organized, uniformed, and well-armed, though their weaponry seems archaic…and odd.”

“In what way?” Alga inquired back, “Uniformed, organized, are they just some other sort of Paellan force? The Princes do lack standardization between their private forces, I heard.”

“They did not look Paellan either. I know what a Paellan looks like, we both do, and they were flesh and blood people- they bleed red when shot and feel pain and fear. So tell me, have you ever heard of a Paellan as pale as chalk with eyes wide and dark like a squid’s peepers? They did not speak any sort of Vitelian language either, nor any I know- and I know most of those that span the continent.”

“Tell me more about them,” Alga pressed, “Did you…fight them?”

The caught a laugh from Dulechamp. “Well, the men were confused at first, in the dim light, and thought they were some ally of the Paellans. So there was plenty of shouting demanding for surrender, I assume, since we didn’t know what they were saying, and the disagreement came to a head. They were not prepared for us to assault in earnest, though. We sent them scurrying back into the smaller tunnels, though we failed to capture any. Even when they were shot their allies were prudent in picking them up, and they could delay when they wished it, with their weapons.”

On that. “What sort of weapons did they have? You make it sound as though they do not use powder and steel.”

“Oh, plenty of that, Commandant, plenty of that. Much smokier and sparkier though, and they like spewing some sort of chemical smoke, and flash bombs. None of it seemed like poison, especially since they lacked protective equipment themselves. Perhaps we caught each other by surprise, however, and they weren’t ready to fight an opponent such as us. We found some of their leavings, we’ll send them up. With such a queer encounter, I’d have expected somebody to know of them, but the locals in the tunnels are awfully mum.”

Donomo pondered that. Was there something he had forgotten, or were they not told something important? “Stand by. I need to have a word with somebody.” He pointed to a radio operator, “Put me on with the Red Prince. He didn’t say anything about Subterraneans or whatever fairy folk Dulechamp said he saw.”
When he was connected to the enigmatic rebellion leader, Alga relayed what Dulechamp had told him.

The Red Prince did not seem to take that claim seriously at first, but grew suspicious- and wary.

“You have the Prince hostage, do you not? Alga asked, “Surely he knows what this is, or their counsel. There can’t have been some new people that chose to spring up the moment we cleared out the caverns.”

“Hum. I’ll ask him. Wait one moment.” A few minutes passed, then a few more. Alga heard combat to the south- but the Red Prince spoke once again before he could be distracted by that. “The Paellans feign ignorance, but we should know better than to trust them. They’re associated in some way. Treat them as enemies if they try to interfere, but we’ve plenty of fight left on the surface.”

That much was true. “My men are reporting success in the caverns and capturing the fort.”

“I’ve heard. Excellent work. We were anticipating tonight being something of a bloodbath, but your aid has prevented that. Opened new options, even. Although, is something happening to the south?”

“I was just about to check on that.” He had his men put him on the frequency with Captain Arietta’s company. “What’s going on, Third Company?” Alga demanded, “Is there fighting? With who?”

He wasn’t speaking with the Captain herself, but with one of the company staff doing communications duties. “There was a skirmish, yeah. It’s practically over now, Commandant. A bunch of boats full of mercenaries came thinking they’d dock here, we had to turn them before they reached port. They were insistent on coming and getting paid. One of the Prince’s friends sending help ahead of time, we’re thinking. They’ll probably try and find somewhere else to land, but they won’t have much luck, I bet. The ships were pretty big, this harbor would be their only safe one, if the briefing was right about the other ones.”

Alga sighed and shook his head. “Alright. Good work, anyways. I’ll ask if we should expect anybody else.” Mercenary boats and gnomes in the caves, what was next, was an army of winged warriors going to descend from on high? Was a dragon of reaction going to accompany them? “Red Prince?” He asked the rebellion’s overlord as soon as he was back on the handle with him, “My Third Company reported having to fend off an attempted landing by a mercenary force on boats. Did you not know about that one?”

“…No, we did,” the Red Prince answered, “We knew they were already three days late. Lucky for us that you were there when nobody expected them to be.”
“They approached from outside our aerial reconnaissance because nothing was expected from that direction,” Alga pressed, “Is there nothing else, late or theoretical or otherwise?”

“There is not.” A pause. “I understand your annoyance, Commandant, but this island has many a matter left to linger and plenty of records made purposefully inaccurate. If we pursued every lie that the Prince’s men told one another and their patrons we’d not be here in the first place. You fended off that attack, and even if they landed, we would have pushed them off again. I have no further instructions. Prepare yourself for the defense of this place, depending on negotiations, we may be under siege for some time.”

Great. Alga excused himself to the deck- for how meticulously planned this had apparently been, for there to be two pieces entirely unaccounted for seemed…odd. Was it a trick? A test? The Commandant hoped not, he’d rather be completely straightforward in the cause and allegiances here than have to concern himself with the who and why being at odds in some way. He hoped that would be the end of unexpected bizarre news- the report to Bonaventura would already be incredulous enough.

Alga did not get his wish. A couple of hours later, as he watched the sun rise higher and listened to the waves, and enjoyed the scenery’s lack of war echoing in the distance while he could, an aide came up on deck and tapped his shoulder. Something he needed to hear, from Dulechamp.

“What is it, Captain?” Alga asked, expecting something like a complaint for boring duties.

“Commandant Alga, the enemy from earlier has come back,” Dulechamp said excitedly, “It seems to be a show of force, they’re on the offensive for certain. It seems our reputation is about to spread more than I could have hoped for…” The Emrean seemed to catch himself from daydreaming. “These pale wide eyes have taken exception to our garrisoning the tunnels, though they seem to be avoiding attacking the miners and under-town dwellers. As I’ve said, they aren’t who we came to fight…but the men won’t say no to it, either. What say you, Commandant?”

Alga made a face he couldn’t have hoped to replicate again, but his mind was ticking where his emotions weren’t. What choice was there besides to fight, or not? These people didn’t speak a language they shared, there wasn’t any way to even find out what they wanted from this battle. Just that they were up for a second round, and quickly at that.

Another urgent message- this time from Second Company. Captain Waltz’s men were also under a large scale attack now, though he hadn’t described seeing unusual people in his operation. Either he hadn’t encountered them, or dispatched them without any of the difficulties Dulechamp had and therefore hadn’t bothered to mention the oddity. This was only escalating…

>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.
>Send reinforcements to the tunnels to drive off any attack from beneath. Whether these mysterious others were affiliated with the Paellans or not, the mines were part of the underground, and not being able to dig up Blue meant a card that wasn’t in the Revolt’s hand, and one that couldn’t be so easily surrendered.
>Other?

>>6279488
>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.
They don't want us in the tunnels, they can have them I guess. We'll ask about them later I guess, get some real answers.

>>6279488
>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.

We're not equipt for fighting in the tunnels, but without surface access they probably can't export things as easily. we should see if we can find a translator from the local population so we can get their measure and try and work something out. After all we're not the ones in it for the money. And if we can't come to an agreement its going to be hard to feed their captive population if we collapse ancillary entrances to the underground as we find them.

>>6279488
>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.

>>6279488
>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.

>>6279488
>Send reinforcements to the tunnels to drive off any attack from beneath. Whether these mysterious others were affiliated with the Paellans or not, the mines were part of the underground, and not being able to dig up Blue meant a card that wasn’t in the Revolt’s hand, and one that couldn’t be so easily surrendered.

>>6279488
>>Make a fighting retreat and leave the tunnels to these interlopers. Whoever they are, the Legion hadn’t been informed of them, and saw no reason to fight them. If they wanted a fight, they could come to the surface and try it.
No point in wasting men. Fortify the tunnel entrances so they dont surprise us.

>>6279494
>>6279496
>>6279498
>>6279518
>>6279609
Revolutionizing one concept of war is fine, no need to revisit tunneling tactics.

>>6279566
A challenger appears? Good.

Updating.

Tragically for Dulechamp’s hunger for history in the making, Alga saw no reason to actually fight these mysterious undergrounders if they wanted to make a fight for some damp and moldy caverns. As far as he was concerned, the Legion was there to liberate the debt-slaves, not to protect any materialistic industry. “Engage in a fighting retreat,” he told Dulechamp before he could disappear into the ground where radio commands could not follow, “Let them have the tunnels, preserve our men and equipment. They aren’t the enemy we came here to fight. Just find out as much as you can from clashing, and seek nothing else. I don’t want to be the Legion to be the one to learn any hard lessons there are to be learned from fighting this unknown enemy. There’s no gain for us in this fight.”

“Ah, hm,” Dulechamp let out a disappointed huff, “If that is your command. If they pursue us, however?”

“If they come up to the surface, then let them have it. If they want access to the surface, they’ll have to at least try to bargain for it. We have explosives, we don’t need to let them have a way up if they’re going to be unreasonable. In the meantime, see if you can make more forceful inquiries into just what these people are.”

“Understood, Commandant. Keep the future coffee hot for our return, will you?”

Similar was relayed to Second Company, though they needed no encouragement to give ground when they were already doing so against a very aggressive push. Waltz was still down in the ground directly commanding, so it was his second in command, another of the original platoon plus of Fealinnese turncoats, who had expanded their skills and tactics to the whole company even if more than half of them weren’t even Fealinnese themselves at this point.

“They’ve been fighting in a very blunt manner,” he relayed to Alga, “There’s so many different tunnels that snake around to many places, some of them cut by the elements and some by individuals, that stopping up every single one would be a trying, destructive task, but they’ve stayed in the larger ones. It makes me thankful that they haven’t deployed their version of us. Either that, or they’re unfamiliar with the smaller sections.”

“Why would that be?”

“We’ve known these people exist for less than a day, but the Captain thinks that they’re acting like our old bosses would in a border conflict. Lots of thunder but no smoke.”

Not just metaphorically considering the traits their weapons were said to have. “Many of the tunnels are flooded, I’ve heard, or are under flooded bends. They wouldn’t be able to go to those places, would they?”

“They have people who have masks and suits this time, so I wouldn’t count on that. Most of us think we don’t want to find out how they fight, since we’re not kitted out for that kind of war.”

That sort of discovery wasn’t something Alga was interested in explaining to his patron, either. This operation was already escalating in a precarious manner- even if none of the fighting thus far had been anything close to the Northern Wars.

-----

July 16, 1927- Lapizlazulli, Vitelia

It was the afternoon- and despite all that was happening on the home front, the reports from Nuvole Blu were what was holding your attention right now. The initial easy success, the attempted approach of late-coming mercenaries, and then the absurdity of some completely new faction of underground soldiers? Though the last weren’t as unbelievable as it might seem to some. You knew of subterranean peoples, your daughters had gone on unauthorized exploration of them, and you even knew of varieties that weren’t extinct elsewhere…though none of them had ever appeared from the seafloor with their own language and weapons. It was the sort of surprise that would accompany a new sort of green headed folk springing up from the valleys between the peaks north of Vitelia.

It was a shame that things had cooled down- you were eagerly awaiting what might happen next, but you were also meant to be completely uninvolved. This was in the hands of your Commandant and the Analysis Department now. What you were meant to be doing was getting ready to lead a civil protest all the way to Lindiva, behind the Army for the Salvation of Vitelia. These were heady days. Though you were spending the rest of this day at home, while everything was being made ready for the big events to come.

Yena was tickled by what you told her, as you helped her hang up laundry outside. “People from the valleys? That may as well be the same as coming from underground, under the sea. Humans aren’t meant to live in such places. Not being able to see the sky is an accursed fate to be born into.”

Your wife wasn’t from a place as particularly rigid in tradition as other mountain settlements, but even the most modern of mountainfolk settlements was a place of flower burning and veneration of a dead goddess of mankind. You’d already gotten the aforementioned ritual out of the way, though. Plenty of people on your side needed whatever favor they could get. Perhaps even you.

“Cesare came by this morning,” you said, “While I was squaring up a few things at the office. He offered some of his people for security, when I go on my way.”

“Security?” Yena asked, “Is it not safe for you, over there? Will you not be surrounded by your comrades the whole journey, and then at Lindiva’s edge?”

“Plenty of people don’t like what the Leagues have done, dear,” you said, “Despite what Lapizlazulli and all its papers might proclaim. But it’s just a precaution.” That was a half-truth. Cesare, in his visit, had insisted to you that it was important. Said that a confluence of powers was readying to make their move, now that they had been joined by a new foe- the Lindivan government. It was dangerous for you to be out in public and demonstrating. You questioned if Leo should be made aware too- but Cesare was grimly silent on that, both of you knowing his opinion on your friend’s fate in the future.

“You do have your guards, do you not?” Yena asked.

“The personal detail, yes,” you said, “But there’s the rest of the march to keep in mind, too, and most of the most trusted men are busy. Leo’s best men are organizing the Western Leagues’ response, the Analysis Department is scrambling over Nuvole Blu, my own AVS people are swamped with work, and my Aurora Legion is out on campaign. So Cesare is the one avenue of trust who has the manpower right now.”

“That is generous of him,” Yena said, nodding to herself, “But, is there truly such a shortage of people? There is no more important task than protecting you, is there? I cannot think of anything that could be more of a concern, for now or the future.”

That prompted a chuckle. “I am not the King, Yena. If I should fall, another will carry on the Revolution. It would be a personal failing, not a failure to the country.”

“I disagree.” Yena said firmly, but did not elaborate. Perhaps it wasn’t good to try and speak on that lightly, considering your prior times headed into risky affairs, even if this was no war.

The question remained. If Cesare thought your security was important, then it probably was- but did it have to come from him?

>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.
>You’d rather not invite any people from outside your faction for something like this. Peel off some troops from the AVS Expedition to mind after your person, and the safety of the follow-on protest in general.
>What were you worried about? It would be more of a display of confidence and camaraderie to the people if you took care of yourself, anyways. You marched amongst fellows, it was best to act like it.
>Other things?

>>6279838
>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.
I do not trust the Front, but i trust our nigga Cesare. We should be wary of those ungrateful fools of the Front, but this is also a good oportunity to improve our relations

>>6279838
>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.
I trust Cesare, simple as.

>>6279838
>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.

>>6279838
>>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.

>>6279838
>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.

>>6279838
>What reason did you have to not fully trust Cesare? If he wished to help, by all means, you would welcome it. It would be a good show towards the Utopian Front, too, to help keep them close.

If the Utopian Front makes an adversarial move then we can just crush them after. But at this stage there is no reason not to trust Cesare's intentions regarding our safety.