WA Delegate (non-executive): The All-Encompassing Glory of Castelia (elected )
Last WA Update:
Embassies: Valentine Day, Northern Ocean, Lisseum, Codex Ylvus, The United Empires of Carson, Urana Firma, The Chuckle Playground of Fun and Games, Gypsy Lands, Fredonia, The Monarchy alliance, Greater Middle East, Regionless, Teremara, and Union of Terra Nova.
Regional Power: Moderate
Today's World Census Report
The Largest Insurance Industry in Azure Watester Federation
The World Census posed as door-to-door salespeople in order to establish which nations have the most extensive Insurance industries.
As a region, Azure Watester Federation is ranked 4,835th in the world for Largest Insurance Industry.
|1.||The Unified Territories of Vaktaria||Compulsory Consumerist State Aspirational Worker State||“Vaktaria and victory”|
|2.||The Best Nation of Best Rwanda||Corporate Police State Entrepreneurial Freedom Zone||“Ubumwe, Umurimo, Gukunda Igihugu”|
|3.||The Eternal Empire of New Imperial Britannia||Iron Fist Consumerists Champions of Commerce||“The Sun Never Sets”|
|4.||The Kingdom of Salcanceacy||Father Knows Best State Suspiciously Liberal Dictatorship||“Peace through power”|
|5.||The United Kingdom of Bekuvia||Conservative Democracy Conservative Paradise||“Justice, Order, Prosperity”|
|6.||The Imperial Empire of Deathon||Iron Fist Consumerists Champions of Commerce||“JOIN US OR DIE”|
|7.||The Cape Republic of Salcanceasy 2 Electric Boogaloo||Moralistic Democracy Ordinary Decent Hardworking People||“Totally not a smurf account”|
|8.||The Republic of Montevaca||Father Knows Best State Suspiciously Liberal Dictatorship||“Libertad, Hermandad, y Dios”|
|9.||The Empire of The Alpes and French||New York Times Democracy New York Crimes So-Called Democracy||“Vivant Imperator et Gentem”|
|10.||The Regno of Confederazione Italiana||Capitalist Paradise Decent Hardworking Self-Starters||“Lunga vita al Re”|
- : The Republic of MineLegoEquestrian Advisor Nation departed this region for Confederation of Corrupt Dictators.
- : The Stratocratic Socialist Union of The Sugondes arrived from Lazarus.
- : The Allied States of Riverrea arrived from Lazarus.
- : The pigeon liberation front ceased to exist.
- : The Federation of AWF Governance Committee updated the World Factbook entry.
- : Sr military expedition ceased to exist.
- : The Cape Republic of Salcanceasy 2 Electric Boogaloo arrived from West africa water foundation.
- : The Kingdom of Salcanceacy composed a new regional Welcome Telegram.
- : The Kingdom of Salcanceacy updated the World Factbook entry.
- : The Dictatorship of Kartosky arrived from The North Pacific.
Azure Watester Federation Regional Message Board
Again I rise from the ashes!
Glad this region is still flourishing!!
Please excuse my nation's frequent apocalypses! We are currently apocalypse free since April 13, 2021.
But seriously kids I'm a 35 year old social studies teacher who is crazy busy so I really do apologize I haven't been engaging as much as I could/should be but I'm sure you guys can imagine I just have a lot going on in life right now! Keep up the awesome job though! I'm proud of my region!
As the weeks have passed by, Rubis still remains under an invisible hand. Despite the clean up operations around Hamburg, Bremen and Frankfurt the nation is on the precipice of open revolt. With Austrians coming out in full support of their independence and opportunists weaving their way out of the wood work, Aristotles leadership holds by a thin thread. Desperate for a remedy to his situation, he approaches Salcanceacy with a punitive but desperate deal. With much of the details being hammered out under the table, Rubis begins to attract investors, troops and resources from Salcanceacy. Whilst the official story stands as a show of friendship, behind closed doors the real story remains hidden, waiting to be unveiled.
Salcanceacy has since dispatched Prince Koenraad to Rubis in the hopes of finalizing the deal between the two nations. In the meantime Koenraad makes his way to the royal palace in Rubis for a meeting with Aristotle. Koenraad approaches the elaborate doors of palaces royal study, he stops arms length away from the door and knocks on it, waiting for a response. Whilst he waits he grasps his brief case. Two guards open the door and Aristotle is seen on his desk writing his name on a document. Koenraad curtsies towards Aristotle, then enters the room with briefcase in hand. As he steps into the room the guards close the door behind him. Aristotle looks up at the prince. He then rises and shakes his hand.
"I'm sorry about not greeting you earlier, I've been writing relief bills all week trying to fix the mess that those damn Austrians made, but everyone knows who really did it."
He then grabs a glass of whiskey from his desk and takes a shot in one swig. Koenraad smiles and nods at Aristotle.
"There's no need to apologise, your attendants were very helpful and informed me about much of the progress made so far. And for those apparent Austrians, lets say they'll be dealt with in good time. However, in the meantime I believe it is appropriate for a host to offer their guests some 'dutch courage', or shall we waive off until the you've signed the last document?"
Koenraad places the briefcase on Aristotles desk and stands, looking at Aristotle pouring himself another drink.
"I was almost finished signing a Hamburg Relief Bill, it's meant to help both us and the Droidenians with the fallout"
Aristotle signs his name on the document and goes to one of the guards by the door
"Take this to the Prime Minister won't you? And don't take a pit stop at the cafeteria for another drink again"
The guard nods and leaves. Aristotle sits down and starts drinking his whiskey
"Now, shall we get to business?"
Koenraad sits down opposite to Aristotle, he opens the brief case and places a number of books in-front of Aristotle, after which he carefully passes Aristotle a thick red leather wallet with the Royal Salcanceacy crest on it. Koenraad briefly stands placing the document in-front of Aristotle and opening it to reveal a document, on it says 'Confirmation of vassalage of Rubis under the rule of Salcanceacy'. Koenraad sits back down as Aristotle looks at the document before him.
"So, if I sign this, it's official?"
"As the official state witness and representative of the royal family, I will confirm your wilful signature as well as ensure that you confirm, that this is your own decision without being coerced into doing so. Once confirmed we can move onto signing the final signature required to validate your decision"
Aristotle nods and looks through the document, searching through every bit of fine print. After a while he takes a pen and holds his drink in his hand and looks at the whiskey
"Well my friend, it's now or never"
He takes another shot of whiskey and signs the document. He hands it to the prince. Koenraad takes the document from Aristotle, he looks over it and closes the wallet, placing it back into the brief case.
"I'd like to thank you, your majesty, Rubis has a bright future ahead of itself under the firm guidance of Salcanceacy. I will have to forfeit a drink for now, I have other matters to attend to, but thank you for your time as always"
Koenraad stands and curtsies to Aristotle, then proceeds to leave the study. A faint smirk marks his face as he moves away.
Karl Kranz, former minister in the Austrian parliament after the dissolution of the Golden Throne and current operative in the Österreichische Befreiungsfront, approached the cabin which was said to be the meeting spot. The small house was not exactly the most secluded spot possible, it was still in the suburbs of Santander after all, and the woods on the edge of his vision seemed to be more secretive than the building itself. With a plain white siding and the same roof as the closest hundred houses, it was at least not a house which would stand out to any passersby, and its worn look and drawn curtains would dissuade any enterprising young men from peering through the windows. Karl walked around the yard and reached the cottage's back entrance, on a small deck overlooking a smaller yard, and entered through the unlocked door. Hopefully the Almadarians would arrive soon.
A sedan came to a squeaking halt on the freshly-paved asphalt of the road in front of their destination. Against a backdrop of Spanish ash trees, the vehicle rugged look could have passed for a car commercial-- but it had seen better days with its thoroughly dented bumper and chipped paint. Out came Roldán Fontanez and Jaime Zambrano, quickly checking their surroundings and scanning for any possible witnesses before striding up to the rented cottage and opening the front door with their key. If anything, it looked more like a gay thing than a meeting between two dangerous insurgent groups.
Inside, they found not what appeared to be bloodthirsty, bare-chested homicidal maniacs but a far more refined man, sitting cross-legged in wait.
Hanging up his Panama hat at the door, Fontanez slowly withdrew his pistol from within his jacket and placed it, facing away from the Austrian, on a nearby lamp table. He instructed his companion to do the same before sitting down opposite of Kranz.
“My name is Roldán Fontanez-- I speak on behalf of Cavillo and the Valverdian Popular Front. Shall we speak in English?”
"Yes, that would be most convenient," said Kranz, relieved that his minuscule knowledge of the Spanish language would not have to carry him through a diplomatic discussion. "Now, where shall we begin?"
“Let’s begin where our groups’ interests align; what do we have in common? How can our respective groups work toward common goals?”
"Well, naturally, we both want freedom for our people. I think that, despite our geographical distance, our organizations can still work together for our nations' benefit." Kranz stated, "A meeting in the middle, literally and figuratively."
Fontanez raised a hand toward Kranz applaudingly.
“Almadaria— and Austria.” He said emphatically, forcing the long syllables of the latter through his accent. “We both have shackles to break; and hopefully, with our cooperation, we may both see the end to our goals. The VPF needs men and firepower, and the only way to do that is to increase our humble financials and spread awareness. The VPF needs connections and additional cells, particularly in affluent communities. And if your Liberation Front needs rifles manufactured, bombs smuggled, or hideouts, Cavillo is all but happy to provide. If you want surgical, off the books operations, Cavillo will provide. What say you?”
"Yes, well, I hear you've recently based yourselves in the Sahara, yes? I believe that we could aid you in spreading your cause as well as provide you with the necessary armaments to fight for it. The OBF secured most of the former Austrian military stockpile after the Ruban and Italian invasions. In return, we would have the right to train within your Sahara hideouts, far away from prying eyes. We'd also contact your organization for any more unusual operations within Ruban or Italian territory, though the Italian government managed to cut us off from our cells in the Confederazione a while back."
“I believe we should be able to handle los italianos if we keep our operations running smoothly. As for everything else, it seems we’re in agreement. There is one more thing, however-- Cavillo wants more than a verbal agreement, and more than two separate groups. After all, we are men of one thought-- independencía. So why should we remain so insulated from one another? He proposed un intercambio de oficiales: an officer’s exchange, if you will. Have some of our people swap places, ensure loyalty to each other. Cavillo has generously pledged former Sargento de la Ejército Almadariano, Jaime Zambrano, here. Zambrano, once he has finished a job here in Santander you needn’t concern yourselves with, will put his several years of service in the Special Operations Command of the Almadarian Army at your disposal. El jefe would be most gracious if you provided a compañero of equal value to seal the partnership between our groups.”
"I see. As it stands I will have to contact my superiors in the Front for such a development. However, I do agree with your sentiment. I do have someone in particular in mind. One Aurel Krüger, an Austrian-born officer in the former Golden Throne's army who was one of the first generals in the Austrian Republic after the Throne's dissolution. He was infuriated by the Austrian government's decision to submit to the Ruban ultimatum and was one of the refounding members of the OBF, wanting to reclaim the honor that the upper echelons of the Austrian nation lost. I believe his skill and determination would be of great use in your operations across the sea."
“And compañero, we shall be grateful to accept him.” Fontanez checked his watch. “Now, I must bid los amigos of the Valverdian Popular Front farewell. For the transport of your freedom fighters, there is a ship named the Martí that will stop for shore leave in Valencia in a few weeks-- it will be moored a la Terminal Noatum Valencia. They’ll take you Tunis, then into las arenas. Zambrano will rendezvous for an exchange then. For now, we have business in the city. Goodbye.”
Urbanización la Roca District
01:49 Central European Summer Time
“Are you certain she’s there?”
“Let’s hope you’re right.”
The night revealed very little about the figures-- they stayed away from lamp posts, careful to move only in the peripheral of the building’s limited camera coverage. The figures, moving as a group, advanced single file between a humble two-story apartment building and its neat wooden fence, separating it from the stretch of Spanish suburbs around it.
“This the one?”
“Yes. Get ready, caco.”
“Don’t call me that, maldito pieza de-”
The handle of the back door was struck ajar by the swing of a crowbar, and the door’s exposed lock gave way. The interior of the small apartment was completely darkened-- the power had been cut beforehand. They trekked up the stairway and pushed forth until they reached Room 18:
“Ready?” Came a whisper from one of the figures. Their partners nodded, pulling out a cloth, zip ties, and a baton and a pistol.
The slight clicks of a lockpick released the door from its frame, and the door was softly pushed wide. The silhouettes of the flat were illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window-- it was a plain studio apartment and lived in like only an educated middle-class couple could. The lead figure cautiously stepped through the threshold, peeking to his left and right after each carefully-placed step. Rounding a corner to check the kitchenette, his companions close behind, a terrible roar came from the kitchenette: a tall, broad-shouldered figure charged from a shadow with a knife, plunging it towards the lead man.
“¡Mierda! ¡Cosiguele! ¡Cosiguele!”
“Bastardos! ¡Te mataré!”
“¡Pistola! Shoot him!”
The knife was narrowly deflected from the lead figure’s throat to his shoulder, cutting the jacket before his companions pried the two from their struggle and a pistol was brought to the man’s sternum, emitting a silenced pop of a gunshot before the attacker made a soft groan and staggered back, falling against the counter.
The attacker’s death struggle was followed by a feminine shriek. “¡Tristán!” Another figure, standing in the corner, looked on in horror and anguish. The intruders paused only momentarily at the death of the man-- then quickly set about wrestling with the girl and bringing the cloth to her mouth and nose until she stopped struggling.
“Mierda. Mierda-mier-mier-da. You said nothing about--” The cut figure hissed, jabbing their unimpaired arm at the fresh corpse, “--about him!”
“Our sources said she lived here-- nothing else!”
“¡Mierda!” The cut one removed his hand from his wound and brought it to the moonlight-- red was streaked across his palm and dripped onto the carpet. Seeing this, he went on. “We need to get out of here. Grab her-- ¡vamos!”
The figures left with one more in their midst, wary of the door of the tenant’s opening as they left the way they came, disappearing into the night. Then came the harbor, then the open sea.
Wien, Österreich, Rubinrepublik
After the meeting in the northern Spanish city of Santander, Kranz took it upon himself to move early on the rendezvous point in Valencia, having contacted three higher-up Front leaders - Markus Larenz, Sascha Blau, and Joseph Plank, about the situation. After some deliberation, the agreement about the operative exchange was agreed to, primarily because of the advantage in relocating the Front's bases of operations out of Rubis itself. As foreign investment poured into salvaging the shattered Ruban cities, it would not take long until the government of the Republic could turn its attention towards investigation.
Thanks to the agreement with the VPF, the OBF's forces would be allowed relocation to the Sahara through Tunisia, allowing for covert training and planning to be done far from the prying eyes of European governments. While the lending of General Krüger to the VPF was unfortunate, the training of forces that could be opened up due to the open, near anarchic spaces of the Sahara would soon pay for it themselves. Larenz himself organized for 300 operatives, as well as Kranz, Krüger, and himself to be brought to Tunis through the VPF's ship. As for the rest of the operatives being reassigned, Blau and Plank would source planes and other boats from sponsors to bring operatives into the Sahara, via the same route that the VPF would lead through.
The ship prepared by the Valverdian Popular Front, la Martí, was not a ship. By most modern standards it would be lucky to be called a boat, even. It was visibly rusted on the outside, and could have convinced even the wisest historian that it was one of Columbus' ships, had it not been made of metal and misnamed for such a role. It looked sorely out of place among the cargo ships docked in the harbor, it was certainly not indiscreet.
Guess I couldn't have expected much, Kranz thought. He knew that the Cavillo of the VPF had been locked in an Alpean, and later Malian, prison for nearly two decades. The organization couldn't have done very well during those times. Regardless, they had agreed to this arrangement, and so the operatives, the General, Larenz, and Kranz loaded onto the boat, just about filling it to reasonable capacity and surprisingly not causing it to collapse in on itself. As la Martí's VPF crew set sail, Kranz wondered if the vessel would be able to make the trip.
After an uncomfortably long time on the water, la Martí finally found land in Tunis. The other OBF forces scheduled to relocate would likely arrive soon, and so there was time before the path to the Sahara would start. About four hours after landing in Tunis, the forces arrived, and the VPF guides led the caravan out of Tunis and into the vast Sahara Desert. With several military trucks and buggies, the journey to the designated location only took about a day's worth of travel. The new OBF training grounds was a run down military base, with hangars and airstrips, and was likely built during Golden control over Algeria, now controlled by the largely lawless Saharan 'government'. Regardless, it was in surprisingly good condition, and would serve as a great location to train operatives where the Europeans couldn't see. Larenz and Kranz quickly got to work organizing how the new base would conduct its operations, and General Aurel Krüger was sent, along with most of the VPF guides, back to where the Almadarians had requested. Getting the base in order would be a long and arduous task, but it would certainly be worth the lack of attention, especially so after the stunt that the Front had just pulled. An audible sigh of relief was heard from Kranz as he got to work.
A City Under Attack
OOC: I know nothing about how modern (or historical) warfare works, so if you do know, please don’t cringe too much.
The new Interim Committee—formed out of the inability to hold an election—took over the city of Winnipeg after their predecessor committed suicide and escaped from the mess he had created himself. Word was spreading within the city that the British assault was coming, and there was nothing this new committee, already too busy arguing with itself, could do to stop it. Nothing. An air of general panic spread across the city like wildfire, and by mid-day it was already causing desertions from the city’s remaining soldiers.
The Committee would have to realize Wilson’s greatest fear. Having to rely on the Russians for survival. They had helped before, sure, but that was as an ally. As equals. Now, with the army all but disbanded and no longer having a military force capable of challenging the British, the Russian troops would become necessary for survival. A predicament that would almost certainly lead to becoming a Russian puppet after the war, if not only because the nation had no respectable military.
Still, that was for after the war. For now, none of that would matter if the British Army rounded them up and shot them. So they would have to rely on Russian help, survive on it. At least, survive this assault—then they would have some breathing space, some time to rebuild and regroup.
Outside of Winnipeg.
“...May you deliver to us victory. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”
The Lieutenant-General knelt down and spoke a silent prayer. Quickly making the sign of the cross before his chest, he rose and reached to his side. Though he was a Protestant serving his King and God, in matters of war he preferred to trust his pistol over any prayer. He checked over his Glock 17, ensuring it was in working order, and walked to the gathering soldiers. He’d plan over the assault with the subordinate officers, meticulously going over every detail. Sometimes that could save a life—sometimes, it had saved his life.
The Canadians were inferior in numbers and armament, but they had one valuable ally, the Russians. Their troops were holding Winnipeg, and would have the ability to prepare a heavy defence ahead of their assault on the city. In addition, the British were lacking in real armoured equipment, as their mechanized regiments were mostly APCs and light IFVs, not powerful enough to fight against the Russian Main Battle Tanks. With High Command refusing to send more aid due to fears of an escalation, they would need to circumvent the bulk of the Russian army. How was a different question.
The British advantage was in mobility. The lighter infantry and APCs could sweep across the plains without much trouble, and the heavier IFVs provided support when infantry wasn’t enough. But the British IFVs only had a 30mm main cannon, not enough to fight the tanks, and the onboard anti-tank missiles were never something to rely on. Although, in the defence of a city, there was very little place for heavy armoured vehicles that wouldn’t be able to manoeuvre in the tighter bends of the roads—but it was no secret that IFVs were widely used by both sides. If the British had them, so would the Russians.
The impossibility of the situation hit the Lieutenant-General then. How it was so improbable that they would succeed, without further support and heavier armament. Still, the Russian advantage in heavy armoured equipment was not insurmountable—if they were somehow destroyed, the assault could succeed. Destroyed how? By way of an airstrike? Bombardment from the artillery guns? An airstrike wouldn’t work—the planes they had were not fighters nor bombers, but rather supply planes and transports. Neither would a bombardment from their artillery. They simply did not have enough range to safely attack the tanks.
But were the tanks as much of a threat as they seemed? They were attacking a city, not an open plains. The nature of the fighting meant that infantry, not vehicles, would be the main deciding factor. They only needed to ensure that the tanks did not cut them off from outside the city, but wouldn’t need to concern themselves with armoured combat within a built-up area. So the plan was this: Break through the city’s outside defences, and use the advantage of infantry in a city to the greatest. Disable or destroy the Russian armoured equipment and eliminate the Russian and Canadian defenders—then the city would fall. This was the task of two regiments—the rest would skirmish with the Russian reinforcements, delaying their advance.
The meeting concluded, the Lieutenant-General returned to his quarters. To pray, and to mourn.