The Republic Provides
In Kilton, where the workers revolution is strongly held and transformed the city. The destination for Anercian guns to be shipped under the guise of grain imports, which too can be eaten. Thousands of crates filled with machine guns, rifles, and grenades line the hull of both airships and steamships coming to and fro within UWR-controlled cities. The men overseeing these operations, a handful of pirate captains and IBS agents sent to keep visible involvement low. Official support coming from the government is the recognition of the worker state and their sovereign right over the country of Kromkarie.
Another piece of cargo was sent, volunteers, ten thousand willing partisans from Anercia to help fight the monarchy and imperial cult. They had come to Kromkarie because the media encouraged it, “Fight the crown! Join the revolution overseas.” were many of the newspaper advertisements, various unions inside Anercia had taken their chance and published them to rally support for the cause. Instead of tens of thousands, they had only ten thousand, only 1/4th of what hoped to garner but still sent them anyway through the pirate ships. The workers were still in virtual control of Kromkarie and the revolution was still in full swing, this support will help push the balance even further.
When they came straight from Anercia with the aspect of fighting, landing in Kilton was something startling and overwhelming. They met a strange world of what is to come back home, and what if they had fought for hadn’t been crushed during the early days of the civil war. A place where the working class had fully liberated itself, the flag and symbol of the syndicates ubiquitous and revered. Everything had been collectivized: shops, shoe polishers, and especially the factories. Red and Black was everywhere, one could not find a single street corner without encountering those colors, the colors of revolution. No one said “Sir,” or “Boss,” no word indicating superiority but “Comrade'' was widespread. Waiters and shop-walkers looked you in the face and treated you as an equal. Practically everyone wore rough working-class clothes, or blue overalls, or some variant of the militia uniform. Churches here and there were being systematically demolished by gangs of workmen and replaced with local shrines to a god so strange to an atheist state such as Anercia. Its name is Zoion, a supreme deity that will bring about a worker utopia. Truly these foreigners thought that things were as they appeared, that this was really a workers’ State and that the entire bourgeoisie had either fled, been killed, or voluntarily come over to the workers’ side.
Rallied now at Kilton, IBS agents have gathered local leaders and started handing out munitions and supplies. Some of them were veterans of the civil war, they knew the hardship of fighting for their freedom, constantly running out of essentials like firewood or cigarettes. They even smuggled premium cigarettes bought from the shops of Valesord, giving it to the militia officers and passing militiamen, a token of good will among fellow revolutionaries. As the guns and ammunition for the day was handed out, they stayed behind to ensure that the volunteers would stick to the plan of joining, and organized more bands of fighters to be sent to the front.
The Columbia general officers nodded their agreement, as something they shared with their Anercian counterparts. Defending the Confederacy was a noble path, and a path many ignore or many take for granted. "Aye, that'd be the case," CNO Tascer noted. "Politicians." he scoffed mockingly. Until then, the atmosphere had went much less grimmer.
They would stay for several more days in Camp Strong for further discussions and planning on the joint military exercises and wargames, as well as reviewing the Anercian host as well, before eventually bidding their farewells, and riding back to the Confederacy with haste. With the passage of the National Security Revitalization Act, there was much work to do.
The Memories of an Old Man
As the continued snowfall covered the streets and roofs of Asmodeus, the many buccaneers calling the town home had begun congregating inside taverns evenly spread across the city. Inside one such tavern sat a grisly old man. His face was covered in a grey beard, alongside an eyepatch that covered his right eye. He sat alone in the corner of the tavern, though many of its inhabitants kept exchanging glances to. He sat alone by his own choosing, mainly because he had become tired of the attention he would always bring.
This man was no lowly outsider. No, this man was one of the buccaneers that originally stormed and liberated the Broken Coast's civillians and workers from the oppression of the Grey Empire. The pirate sighed before taking a swig from a bottle of rum and then looking up, seeing the entire tavern staring at him with hopeful eyes.
"Fine, i'll recount my tales.." The buccaneer spoke with a tired voice, as if he'd been asked the question a million times before. His response caused a murmur victory to spread through the tavern's inhabitants.
"As ye all know, the liberation of the Coast started on a dark and stormy summer night.", the buccaneer spoke as he visualized the events in his head.
"Under the cover of night, a large armada made up of the most bloodthirsty pirates arrived at the horizon. I was amongst them, that night. The Grey Empire had taken much from us. Cast us out for seeking the freedom any man should seek, they did. Treat us like tools to do the dirty-work of the monarch and the upper class, they did too. We lived under harsh conditions, and on that night, we wanted our revenge, alongside a place to call home, a safe haven for any sorry bastard that wanted to feel what true freedom was." The man paused before continuing.
"With our colors hoisted, we closed onto the fortifications that the monarchists and their supporters had put up. Then, when our ships guns were board-to-board with the fortifications, the command rang out from the capt'n. 'Fire', he called out. The next moments have always stuck with me. It was if the gates of hell opened up as the loud booms of the cannons alerted the entire town to the armada. We saw our projectiles impact the walls of the fortification, completely ruining an entire section before they could return fire. The ships that followed unleashed a rolling barrage that demolished the cannons of the fort." The pirates all laughed as they all visualized the awe of seeing such carnage.
"The next thing we did was to load our longboats. We moved ashore under the cover of cannon fire. Hundreds of us that came ashore, there were. Many fell to the Empire's soldiers that managed to collect their courage in time to form a somewhat coherant line of rifles to meet us. As they reloaded, we unsheated our cutlasses and brought steel and death to the soldiers. I still remember their screams as we cut them down! We fought through the alleys and houses that the monarchist forces attempted to fortify, and at last we reached the governor's palace. The guards had barricaded the palace by shoving furniture over windows and the doors. We rammed the doors again and again, until they finally gave way to our sheer force. Inside, we were met with rapiers and other tools of cold steel that were brought down upon us like a hammer smashing onto an anvil. Bodies were piled high as we continued to push hard into that blasted meatgrinder. We fought for many hours, gathering more forces before pushing, and as the last guards fell, we cornered the governor in his bedroom where he and his family had holed up. I somehow feel sorry about how they went out." The eyes of the old man seemingly had regained some spark as he was lost in his own tale.
"The day after the battle, we put them on trial for treachery against the free man. They were to be hanged and put on display, to warn any potential troublemakers not to mess with the Brotherhood. It seemed to work, considering we're still here now." The man stood up and grabbed his bottle of rum. "Alas, i am simply an old geezer. I might not even remember properly anymore.. Heh, odd to think that this wasn't even the bloodies battle for the liberation." This statement seemed to catch the attention of a few younger buccaneers, probably new to the Coast.
The old man smiled knowingly before moving towards the door of the tavern. "That would have happened outside Croscaunt, where the brave buccaneers faced off against a fleet of Grey Empire ships. But, that's a story for another time." As the old man finished speaking, he had already opened the door and stepped into the snowy weather, disappearing from sight as the patrons of the tavern started telling their own stories of various raids.
A standard, coal company
Aidan Baelish inspected the outside rabble, a curious amalgamation of the white-collar class, young, middling and wizened, but efficient all the same. The offices were, just like everyday, busy in a flurry of administrative functions, while he himself toiled alone in the silence of his office—largely isolated by pained glass and muffled tones.
Setting down his pen, he set aside necessary paperwork and deposited them in an organized desk set. A stainless-steel typewriter sat before, empty barring a collection of drafts and statements, freshly stapled.
A rapping at the door caught his attention, two other gentlemen waiting by the wooden and glass portal. Beckoning them to enter, he welcomed Samwell Ryan and Kennat Flagler with open arms, propping their overcoats and head covers onto a wall rack. The two sat adjacent to him.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Refreshments? I’ll have Beylee get something,” he inquired.
“No, gods. Aline will scream murder if she ever smells alcohol after a workday,” Flagler responded with a chuckle. Ryans abstained as well, albeit more promptly.
“So, Aidan, what’ve you called us for?”
“We’re dissolving the partnership,” Baelish deadpanned.
“You— what?!” Flagler half-yelled, half-belched.
“Aidan, what do you mea—” Ryans sputtered,
but barely managing to finish before the twenty-something year-old interceded.
“Not in the way you think,” Baelish offered, before any misunderstandings could coalesce with his partner’s minds. “We’re dissolving the partnership, but call it the next stage to our evolution. Aye, the commission business is all well and good, but I think a proper company should do us some good. Of course, all of you will be co-founders.”
“Are you sure about this, Aidan?” Flagler asked. “It’s a risky move. All of Keystone will be at our throats.
“I haven’t been this sure since I joined up with Marsh and his lot. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you two. Wyllam already knows, and so does Harkness. My brother and Steffon supports it. I’ll be Chairman, you and Wyllam will be Senior Executive Officers, and Samwell as Chemist & Inaugural Chief of Refining Operations.” He had plans laid out, in the confined space of his mind, but Baelish would share them soon enough. He needed Samwell and Kennat would need to be onboard. Otherwise... it won’t happen.
“What do you say?” he added.
“I’m with you, Aidan,” Samwell answered, voice unwavering.
“Kennat?” Aidan directed at an apprehensive Flagler. In a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.
“You’ve never been wrong, Aidan,” Flagler pondered. “I trust you. Let’s do it.”
From ear to ear, Aidan grinned, “then gentlemen, I will not disappoint. Drinks?”
While celebrations were at hand, and surely enough spreading like wildfire across the entire floor, Baelish had been thinking.
Evidently, this new company would need a new name. Something that was preferable to Baelish, Ryans & Flagler. Something of better and greater caliber than some off-shoot, commission scheme.
A standard coal company.
Antov's Challenge to Mercer
The day was a chilly one, one in which you have to wear a coat, and everyone in the capital was wearing one. A stagecoach pulled up to the entrance of the Assembly Hall, the building where all of the MP’s gather to vote and voice their opinions, it was a repurposed cathedral with all religious symbols thrown out and the pews replaced with rows of curved tables for members to be seated. It has buttresses and arches all built in the gothic style the church was so fond of, with a second layer above just for a dome upheld by marble carvings of great men and saints. On top snapped the red and purple of the Republic, flying high over the entire city. Stepping out, came Antov Sutherland, the hero of Lenshaven, and chairman for the Anercian Democratic Party. He wore his old grey greatcoat removed of any military honors or adornments and without his iconic blue star officers cap. His face was strong and covered with a thick black full beard, a scar runs down his cheek, and his eyes that of a kind but tired man. Behind him was an entourage of security personnel and an annoying insistent aide giving him every detail of everything happening that crosses his ears. They walked up the stairs of the assembly hall, giant marble steps that gave way to holy ascension. At the end of those steps used to meet thousands of church-attendees a herculean statue of the King, but now replaced with General Ashton Mercer standing victoriously with his boot on a ruined crown. And guarding the two massive doorways were his lackeys, all dressed in black khaki or a coat with a rifle slung behind their backs. He was disgusted, making a face of disdain towards them as they searched his body for weapons.
Inside the Hall was a spacious and vast interior, a place that can hold thousands of attendees at once for a single sermon. There, the dome is raised hundreds of feet above their heads, beautifully and immaculately painted with images of the heavens and countless battles of decades past. In the middle of the building was the lowered basin of green carpet where the head speaker and podium resides. And with low stairs connecting it to rows and rows of arched seating arrangements with the MP’s staring faced forward at the podium. Doors on the side lead to the theater-like boxes above them, allowing those invited to any session to watch with awe at those deciding the fate of the nation. Today it was quite packed, after all it was his speech to address the current state of affairs. MP’s and other notable figures of interest mingle near the doors, waiting for the session to officially begin by the speaker. He looked to his right, and on the theater box was the president talking with his VP. It was noisy, the sound of different conversation about policy or vacations and glad handing taking place. “Ah the man of the hour!” One of his ADP allies said, then a group of clamor around Antov for a while. But then the signature gavel of the speaker banged and signaled the start of the session.
"Today on the session floor, a speech and proposal on the repeal of the Emergency Reconstruction Act and compromise of 1885 made by Mr. Antov Sutherland. Sir you have the floor.” The Speaker boringly spoke with cadence that of a paraplegic drill sergeant. He cleared his throat and began to speak, “Today fellow members of the noble assembly, we have gathered here to discuss the compromise made with General Ashton Mercer, the one which we gave away all that we have fought for in those years of fighting.” He said. “It has been months and with great progress our nation has been restored to even greater glory, but the need of that compromise is no longer present. Now it is time to get what we have bargained for, our democracy.” Antov passionately explained. There the crowd had a mixed reaction, mostly boos from the United Anercian Party side of the assembly. The SRP and NWP and his own party largely cheered, Ashton from that box seemed mad and squinted furiously against Antov. “Stand with me! The bill that has shackled us must be broken and repealed, stand for what we fought and shed blood for!” He ended the speech with the demand for change. “Mr. President take down that bill!” he spoke directly to Ashton, looking at his eyes with fury.
“Now time for remarks by the parties.” The speaker turned to the seats of the assembly. First it was the chairman of the UAP, which was Ashton Mercer himself, “Do not speak like you know more than the people of this country! They voted me in because they believe that I can bring change. The people which our democracy functions on have voted over two thirds of this assembly in. Do not use the word democracy again Antov, for you wish to side step it for some other goal unrepresentative of the people!” He strongly rebutted against him. The NWP chairman, Maxil Rogan, a thin and frail man, rose from his seat with vigor, “No! The chairman from the democratic party is correct, while i do not agree with your liberal ways, the President is a dictator!” He loudly accused Ashton. “We must rid ourselves from the chains that bind the assembly and the will of the people!” He waved his finger around with a righteous zeal. The speaker banged his gavel thricely, “Please calm yourself Mr. chairman, or we will have to kick you out.” Maxil reluctantly slumped down into his seat. The SRP, a single MP got up, all eyes looked at her, “The SRP agrees with the Chairman from the ADP, we need democracy and we need it for all peoples, scarlettans included.” Some of the conservatives snickered at this comment. The rest of the session was a back and forth from nearly all of the members, and was adjourned as all of them were content with their remarks. Antov went back to his stagecoach, weary from the day he watched out his coach window some of the black-clad guards staring intensely at him. What will happen now that he directly opposes the president and his powers? Will he too disappear like those journalists he kept track of?
As soon as these supplies came in they were sent to the front via the train system. These supplies were never needed more as winter was on fast approach and snow was beginning to fall with the swamps freezing, and without these supplies many soldiers would die of hypothermia. But now with these supplies the offensive could continue in the winter with the Republic facing defeat and Kromkarie undersupplied from strikes and violence disrupting production in the capital, either they surrender or lose many men to the bitter winter. Along with these supplies came a new cheer, revolutionaries celebrating new comrades at the front indulging in conversations about land afar, some in disagreement with each other but many finding new friends from foreign.
"The workers thank the Anercian republic for these Supplies, for now we can truly see the liberation of Kromkarie, a proud state owned by the working man. Now stand with foreign comrades and take arms against what is left of the enemy, fight for freedom, fight for a new Kromkarie" - Vincent Hick speech
Chancellor Antillies took his hand firmly, and come time of the hug he gave a hearty chuckle, rearing his hands in a sign of peace to the press onlookers before leading President Ashton and his guard through several hangars, discussing the voyage and general topics of interest, as well as showing off several Battleships and Cruisers both in-progress and those finished. Finally, they stopped at a hulking oak chamber, plentiful in seats, on the four walls flags as large as ships were hanging, displaying the members at the conference, a podium stood in the centre, and just beneath it was a hulking granite slab, The name of the Internationale was Carved at the top, the rest blank and ready to have the laws of the faction carved deeply into the rock.
"Here she is, the Home of the International, the most prided building of Damstal, ready to house all the parties involved in our discussions."
He spoke with a thick and hard Mosoulic accent, yet trying his hardest to speak the alien Western Common,
"What do you think Brothers!"
He gave another hearty laugh.
As the Columbian delegation, lead by the marvelous President DeWitt arrived, Antillies and Krieger stood to greet them and service them after their long and rough travel. The group would be lead through a chamber filled with Blaicois Historica and obscure artifacts, Krieger spending perhaps too much time on the items used to kill men of the Grey empire. But after a period they would arrive in a large oak hall, already filled with many of Blaiche's own delegates as well as the Presidential envoy of Anerica.
By the time of the Broken Coasts arrival, Antillies was tired, but nonetheless, he knew he had to give the Delegates a warm welcome, he offered several gifts to the Laiakian Captains, several bottles of Blaicois vintage whiskey, and several hundred units of weaponry and armor as a gesture of good faith. He then lead them to the harbor of Damstal, showing several historical ships and landmarks, before leading them to the great oak hall of the Internationale.
With Jesruriz, Frosturne, Southron Columbia, and Laiakia assembled in Damstal, several dancers and singers would come and perform to the guests, followed by swathes of food and alcohol, after a few hours of comradery, Antillies would begin a speech,
"Brothers of Skyreach, We have assembled tonight, not only to unite the east and West, but also to bring together the peoples of the world, and show them the corruption of their masters, to show them they can- AND must stand to create a truly free world, to stamp out the colonial masters might and teach them that tyranny and this extortion they call monarchy cannot last! I call on my Blaicois Brothers, I call on my Laiakian Brothers, I call on my Columbian Brothers, I call on my Frosten Brothers, and I call on my Anerican Brothers! We shall build a new world! We are the Glorious few for now, we may just be the revolution for now, but tomorrow we shall be united! Brothers, I ask that we now listen to our Anerican brothers and their proposals for the Internationale's general governance. Thank you."
Marcus would wait for the cheering from his own men at the least to die down, before approaching his seat in the Blaicois quarter, sweat still falling from his brow after his grand speech.
Harlan nodded, "Good." He replied shortly before turning and gesturing to a door that would take them inside and into a room that was now going to act as a conference room of sorts. "Perhaps we should head inside, the wind is picking up again."
Launch, Launch, Launch!
The construction of the CSS Gadsden (BB-10) is complete, along with two cruisers, three destroyers, and three corvettes. With the commissioning and inducting of the Independence into the CSNAF, there are now three Battleship Squadrons in total in the growing Confederate Navy. The completion of this new ship-of-the-line also follows the CSS Victoria (BB-11) as her keel is laid now and construction of the vessel begins.
Shipyards Be Churning Part 2
The sound of rotors starting up filled the drydocks of Croscaunt. As the snow started to get blown in every direction, the aero-battleship that was under construction slowly rose off the ground. Workers cheered as their creation tilted its massive rotors. Moments after, the other ships followed suit and rose into the skies beside the massive Dominion-class.
As the aero-ships were finished launching, the attention was turned to another drydock currently housing the first naval battleship of the Coast. A bottle was smashed upon it's hull and then she was cerimoniosly allowed to slide into the ice-cold waters.
After the cheers and celebration died down, the workers were relieved for the day. Yet tomorrow would bring more work, as the Coast layed plans and assignments to commence the construction of a fourth Dominion-class along with a second naval battleship and some smaller naval escort ships such as 2 cruisers and 3 destroyers.
The third Unity-Class battleship has been launched along with 2 cruisers and 3 destroyers. A fourth has been commisioned.
Ashton's Speech to the Delegates
Ashton cleared his throat and tightened his purple tie, getting from his seat and walking up on stage, “I thank you Chancellor Antillies for inviting the whole free world for this grand banquet.” He joked, adjusting the microphone. “Delegates of this noble convention, we here represent the grandest democracies of the world and some of the first of its kind. Anercia stands with the delegates from Blaiche in the creation of a global alliance of free nations, standing against the tide of tyranny that wishes to put our peoples in the bondage of feudalism.” The clapping from the Anercian tables began. “We know the hardship of the fight to gain freedom, how hard the iron shackles grip our hands like a frigid winter. But united we break them together, and together we free the world!” He said passionately. “Join us as we usher a new age, a democractic age, stand with the Internationale!” He ended it and left to his table.
Manufacturing has but almost ceased in the capital from worker revolts and strikes. The people now refuse to fight dodging the draft and even throwing their weapons on the ground when faced with the enemy. KMIA forces are stretched to fin to deal with these situations with our best officers trying to coordinate what we have left on the frontline. The capital is only protected by a handful of KMIA and if they find out about the lack of KMIA, they will attempt a raid on the palace.
Zoion's Legion led by the traitor Arthur Cannon now proclaiming himself openly as the Supreme Zealot. Zoion's Legion has spearheaded themselves into Kromkarie causing many to flock to his cause. It is become a concern that if those who support the Monarchy were to find out about the death of the King, their chosen one. If this is the case many people of Kromkarie will join Arthur Cannon in his new Extremist version of Zoionism.
The navy has abandoned Kromkarie and refuses to help the military in the civil war led by Admiral [Redacted].
Burn Documents, this is the last Report.
It was the dying days of the capital, people rioting in the streets, barely any men to hold off even unarmed hordes of peasants. And as I write this in the off chance i survive, know me as Private Talon of the 15th KMIA division, tomorrow i shall be dust in the annals of history but today i am a valiant defender of the Empire. I do think of myself as proud to serve under the guidance of the King, for I would not be here without their wisdom in creating such a force to protect the country from threats inside and out. In recent memory it pains me to see my nation fall to the ruinous powers of mad clergymen and worker gangs. It hurts me further to even witness our own people fall into their influence, not respecting the patriotism holding us together. Now I'm here, in the capital of the greatest country on the planet, but I hide from our own citizens. I am hunted by militias and unloyal soldiers that have abandoned our king, who is now by recent reports has fallen.
My duties as it were, have fallen too, in standards and frequency, less and less orders were given out as our officers are switched out almost every week. Get ammo, supplies, and water back to base. These are the central tenets by which I live my life, not under the worship of Zoion but the worship of good ammo and cigarettes. Ammunition was so scarce that each man entering the barricades was only issued with fifty rounds, and most of it was exceedingly bad. Our previous source from the capital foundry has dried up, the workers, even threatened by gunfire, have fled and retreated into revolutionary territory. Our field-made cartridges were all refills and would jam even the best rifles. The reserve palace-cartridges were better and were therefore reserved for the machine-guns. Best of all was the Anercian-made ammunition, but as this came only from captured militia there was not a whole lot of it. I luckily snagged some of a corpse a week ago, and used it to hold off a squad of them from the second story of a building my company was using. Cigarettes, lamp oil, blankets, previously issued but now ceased. The only supplies we had left were issued in the palace, and an order has been declared that only the palace guards were to keep them. Instead we resort to stealing from our own civilians, I saw my fellow men rob ten families in a single night just to get enough tobacco for their own rolled cigarettes. When you wanted your rifle cleaned you took it to the sergeant, who possessed a long brass ramrod which was invariably bent and therefore scratched the rifling. There was not even any gun oil. You greased your rifle with vegetable oil, when you could get hold of it that is. The worst of all there was barely any lights in Blankenwald, the city’s generators long ago stopped getting shipments of coal and now the nights were hauntingly dark. The lights we do see were street lamps which our divisions set up checkpoints at, and the highest likelihood of getting raided by the militias forming in the streets. The weather in the city was miserable and cold, sometimes sunny, but always cold. The nights were colder than ever since the coal was cut off, in the early and late hours we used to rake together what was left of the campfire and then stand in the red-hot embers. It was bad for your boots, but it was very good for your feet. But there were mornings when the sight of the dawn among marble statues and immaculate buildings built as a shrine to the glory of our forefathers made it almost worth while to be out of bed at godless hours. We were short-handed here, which meant longer patrols and heavier bags under your eyes. I was beginning to suffer a little from the lack of sleep, but the coffee rations we still have make it a bit better.
The situation has worsened, to my dismay, sharply over a period of just three weeks. First it was vague reports of massive riots in the streets of Kilton and Alverton, the next day a full blown revolution with Kromkarie flanked on all sides. During the first days of the civil war I was assigned to a post near the front lines near Kilton. We were only two hundred yards from the worker militias, digging into a line of trenches to halt their advance. Of course our line fell within the weekend. The troops opposite us were Kromkarien, but according to our intel there were a few Anercian fighters and officers much like the KMIA. What I saw was not an army at all, but boy scouts and unwashed serfs in place of real soldiers. And as we slaughtered them, killing five for every one they kill of us, their shouts of “For the Revolution!” began to wear. Shouts which were meant to be war-like and menacing, but which, from those childish throats, sounded as pathetic as the cries of kittens. It seemed dreadful that the defenders of the Revolution should be this mob of ragged children carrying worn-out rifles which they did not know how to use. By the time our company was getting switched out to the capital and replaced with fresh troops from the 17th Division , we were getting our kits together: Our uniforms caked with mud, eyes bloodshot, and beards that seemingly grew to larger than normal properations. I’m glad i'm not some fool lying dead face first in the cold mud, instead I will die here in the streets of Blankenwald.
This week, perhaps our finest and final hour, will be the week to truly test our mettle. It is only a matter of time before our contacts and spies within the revolutionary militias tell us of a massive attack on the capital. I do not know if we'll make it by the end of the week, i do not know if our empire will survive, but i do know this. I will take down any b*stard that cross my line of fire, I promise to my country that I will not die taking it lying down. To you, whoever reads this, if you are a victorious soldier of the empire I salute you from heaven. If you are a rebel of this fallen nation, I congratulate you on destroying the greatest nation on skyreach, and truly your cause is the most corrosive and destructive kind.
The Columbian delegates joined the arising applause of the venue, while President DeWitt followed suit. A man in his middling years, he had a crown of dark hair, with small streaks of white and grey and sporting a generous mustache, while clothed with an ensemble comprising of a gray overcoat with covered buttons and matching waistcoat and trousers, as well turnover shirt collar and a bow tie. He steadied himself before the audience of nations and clearing his throat.
“Gentlemen and ladies of this grand Congregate...” he begun with a solemn voice. “...I am not one for words, or rather, for speeches in general since my escapades in secondary, but bear with me.”
“A calling has been set before us: an opportunity like no other. A chance to propagate a better world, a freer world. We all have one thing in common: the long-suffering at the hands of rampant colonialism and imperialism. A world where a slave must serve, for fear of death, or for a freeman to die, for fear of losing his freedom. This must no longer be the case. Too long have we submitted to cruel masters, to their whims and deathly ambitions; to greed and rampant terrorism. The opportunity we are presented here is a chance for a region, nay, a world free from it.”
“Yet we must consider such a thing as ethics. Our morality defines our ability to act, for no man can claim to have a higher moral standing than another. We must act with caution, and contemplate the actions of our nations should this union, this democratic union, ever vitalize and realize a world where our posterity need not to fear for their freedom. They will bask in the light of progress, in the shine of liberty and joy. This we swear onto them, and to those who suffer under the grip of iron fists. We must not fight for ourselves! We must not fight for our own, selfish desires! We must not fight to harm them wrathfully, for they are not the enemy. Evil is our enemy, and we must eradicate it thusly.”
“Yes. This Internationale recognized, we will act in the interest of democracy, of the rights of man, and of the values of self-determination and free-rein. Where nations, joined in harmony, will bring the peoples of the world into a new era. A New Peace for the Ages.”
“The time for aggrandizement and conquest is nearing its end. The Grey Empire stands in the precipice of its fall: a collapse that will endanger not only the people, all peoples. A profound change, one that shall necessitate action. A new threat shall rear its head and endanger our dear families, our friends. On behalf of the Columbian people, I say thus: we must unite, unite in the march of democracy, for shall be its bulwarks and heralds. The Internationale shall be our Bastion that will fight for all to forward the banners of independence. Unite for all our sakes, and the sake of others.”
“On behalf of the peoples of the world, I say thus: we must fight! Fight for a world free of the diseases of national populism and anarchism. We must fight a world of sickness, so ravages by brutes who place their interests before the common man or woman, and hurt without thought or emotion. We must fight! For a world with no boundaries, a world survived without intolerance and wrath; a future where none need to fear. We must fight! Battle for a world with no famine, no infestation, no senseless war or death!”
“In the name of freedom and democracy... in the name of this New Peace for all the Ages... let us all unite!”
As the Princess Emma slowly ascended into the skies, construction was already beginning on yet another battleship. Her keel had already been laid, as another of the Emma-class battleships.
A Friendly Visit
It was early morning when the Princess Sophie and an attached squadron of a cruiser and destroyer appeared over the horizon, flying their colours in full parade style. Middle Predor had decided to winter their second battleship at Anercia for the next month as "part of efforts to improve relations with Anercia and represent Middle Predor's economic interests in the area."
In reality, the kingdom was worried about the rapid growth of the Internationale, and had sent the battleship for the winter to represent their interests and keep an eye on the growing alliance.
The battleship and her squadron docked at one of the cradles reserved for her, and the crew got to spend some time with shore leave in a foreign country.
Albin grinned. "Isn't it always?"
He followed Harlan inside, the rest of the little party trailing along with him. Shortly before he entered the door, he turned and pointed at Duke Tritten, who was looking distinctly excited. "You stay with the rest of us. No slipping off to explore."
Distinctly deflated, Tritten followed the rest of the delegates inside.
Supplies for Kromkarie
With Middle Predorian supplies arriving in Kromkarie to aid the Royalists, many KMIA divsions now reaping the benefits of long overdue supplies begin to ship them to the frontlines. Though the news of supplies being delivered to the royalists soon reached the local populace leading to raids on the limited KMIA presence fighting for the supplies to use against them. The KMIA were able to protect most of the supplies, but the rebels managed to take some for the revolution. With the UWR on the approach from the north, all the Capital could do was wait and prepare for a final defence as battle hardened trained Revolutionaries would soon lay siege and end the old Kromkarie through direct assault and local uprising.
The buccaneer delegation clapped alongside the applause as Pirate Lord Silverstry took the stage. The man was in a middling age with a mix of brown, grey and unkept hair that reached his upper back. Looking upon the gathered delegations, he took a short breath before beginning.
"Friends, this day marks an end of an era of widespread monarchist supremacy, and the beginning of a new age of freedom for all. For too long has our fates and lives been decided by others who see themselves as our betters. No longer!"
"We all know that without the monarchistic, antagonistic, regime of class, the world would be a better place. And, while we must make sure to never become what we seek to root out, i ask of you all, what are you willing to sacrifice to bring the liberation of all peoples in the entire world. Regardless of gender, regardless of skin color. We're all human, aye? All raised by a mother and father that would strive to give us a life worth living. We are all equal!"
"While we of the Broken Coast pride ourselves at being a refuge for freedom in a cold, uncaring world, we have also experienced brutality, condemnation, and prejudice for our way of life. Some may call us pirates, raiders, or unsavory individuals, yet every last man, woman and child of the Coast would have no hesitation laying down their lives for our continued freedom. Thus, i ask you all this; What are you willing to sacrifice, to loose, in order for freedom to prevail and reach all persons? If ye be unsure, i ask again, what is it, then, that you wish to die for? What cause would you want to lay down your life to? Is it not noble to go down fighting for freedom from such tyrants? We've already done it once, against the blasted Grey Empire. What stops ye now?"
"Ask me the same question, and i'd answer without hesitation, to put my life into the hands of the men next to me, to stand on the bow of a ship and face down certain death, if only to continue the existance of our ways of life."
"When the final battle against the evil of tyrrany comes, all peoples will be looking here, to all of us, for the International to lead. What would they see? Frightened bilgerats too afraid to fight for justice? Nay, i say. Nay! They shall see free peoples, and true freedom. And what the enemy will see is the flash of our guns, they will hear the ring of our swords and they will know what we can do together! By the sweat of our brows, and the strength of our backs, and the courage of our hearts to stand up to the tyrants. We will bring the torch of freedom, fate and liberty to whatever decadent nation that would attempt to refuse our calls for justice, be it the Grey Empire, or any other power here in Skyreach."
"Gentlemen, ladies, hoist your colors, for the winds on our side, and that's all we need!"
The Fros'turne's Response
After applauding the Buccaneer Delegation's speech the Foreign Affairs Minister (FAM), Bjorn Larsen, stood up to say a few short words.
"After hearing such an excellent and exhilarating speech that sums up what we all feel what I have to say next feels a bit inadequate. No matter the case I'll press on. As the ambassador of Fros'turne I'm sure my leader would find it acceptable for me to speak on their behalf to say Fros'turne will support any nation of the International throughout any event of crisis be it natural disaster, internal conflict or war. In return we only ask for you to be there for us and to keep spreading the message of freedom and equality for all. Whenever a charter is to be discussed whatever the majority deems fit Fros'turne will agree with, unless of course we see it as absolutely unacceptable but we trust in your judgement something like this won't happen. And with that being said I must make a premature departure as I'm needed back home for a special event. Hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening and will be eager to hear from you soon."
After finishing his short address to the delegations gathered, the FAM leaves followed by his bodyguards in toe and head to their courier ship to return home.
The First Launch
As people gather outside Hjem shipyards rumor's spread throughout the air about why they're there but are all soon silenced as a message stating to be quiet rings out of the loud speakers on stage. Soon after President Harald Jorgensen then walks on stage to a lectern.
"My fellow Frostens, I have gathered you here to today to reveal a project our wonderful engineers have been working tirelessly on for the past few months. The undertaking of this project was to secure our national security and prove our might as a nation. Today we launch our first 3 ships into the Fros'turne fleet. I give you The Midten, The Lik and The Avrundet."
As the President announced the names of the ships the big curtain behind him dropped revealing 3 big flying battleships in docks. When the President continues his speech after the applause the ships engines turn on and start to hover over the city.
"With these ships at the forefront of our fleet we'll be able to answer any threat that comes knocking at our door and aid any ally in conflict with a strong and swift response."
The crowd cheers and the President walks away with his advisors and bodyguards.
After countless hours of shaking hands, trying blaichian meals, and drinking the convention came to a close when the Anercian President signed the draft of the Internationale Charter. His name, Ashton Mercer, scrawled in big bold ink on the dotted line. And within the clauses and articles of the charter was the power to intertwine the democracies of the world into a defensive and economic bloc. Hand-written by Anercian Judges and Delegates, their finest art of statesmanship put into this document. It would include the creation of an international bank for which countries can get low-interest loans, a medical organization to monitor the public health of its member countries and those not inside the internationale, and two councils of varying power to enact laws and the internationale’s will on the world.
A New Regime for a New Dawn
With a new era on the horizon, a clear path of victory for the Revolution and march towards the end of the monarchy. The UWR has announced it to be the legitimate Government of Kromkarie instating the new name of The People's Republic of Kromkarie. With this new legitimacy claim, the People's Republic of Kromkarie as begun the operation of forming a Governmental System to secure control of the Revolution and lead an organised end to the Civil war. This new Worker state shall reign till the end of time, being beacon of hope and freedom for the common men and women of Skyreach.
"Today is the day of a new order, an order under the control of its people, an order that bends to the demands of its people instead of its people bending to it. Today we proclaim our freedom from the tyrannical shackles of Monarchies and Private industry. We let go of such beliefs of race and class, we throw away the bindings of hate and greed and enter a new age of prosperity, one that will shine across all borders raising hope in areas with none. As long as we stand as the home of the revolution, people whether they be from the west or east will look to us for guidance in their time for revolution. For we are the spark in a dark world. Let us join for celebration of this new beginning. An age of Revolution! Glory to the ones who look forward!" Vincent Hick declared to the masses of Kromkarie from his stage.
As part of its military buildup and preparations for war, Middle Predor begins combined-arms exercises within its borders, training the airfleet and army together. Included in this are trials of a new technique for quickly setting up entrenchments using accurate gunfire from a warship's quick-firers.