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I thought you would call

Frankfort, Kentucky

Governor Kurt Skutner

He was sitting at his desk in the Capital. In front of him were 3 people. Two Confederate 'Peacekeepers' in grey uniforms and his own Lieutenant Governor Seymour Inquart. In front of him was a letter of resignation. The Confederate troops had marched all the way to Frankfort while local crowds more or less cheered as they did. The population of Kentucky were either ecstatic or terrified and Kurt was in the second camp. This was the end. The Confederation would annex Kentucky in less than a week, Independence was over.

He looked to Inquart. "How could you do this, Seymour? How could you betray your people?" Inquart raised an eyebrow. "How could I? How could you, Kurt? How could you oppose the rightful rulers of Kentucky? Oppose the will of the people?" Kurt shook his head. "This is not the will of the people." Inquart chuckled as he walked to the window behind Kurt and opened the blinds.

Confederate troops marched in the street as a light rain fell and large crowds cheered and threw confetti beside them. Certain....undesirables were also in the scene. Hanging by their necks from streetlights, dead. More were being secured and hung, slowly, as the crowd, blind by a mixture of jubilation and fear, cheered as they swung. Priests, Imams, Pastors and Rabbis that had openly criticized the Church of America. The State Legislators, all 13 of them, that had voted against joining the Confederation. Whoever the Confederation had decided were traitors. All tried in a Kangaroo court and hung after a 'trial'. Inquart smiled. "Traitors and Heathens. Savages, barely even human." He looked to Kurt. "Tell me that isn't the will of the people. Tell me that the crowd would not be happy if this wasn't what they wanted. And tell me, Kurt, do you want to join the traitors?" Kurt paled in his seat. He sighed, picked up his pen and signed the Resignation letter. Inquart nodded. "Good boy. You will live. We will let you pack and let you take your car out of here. Got to the ALU, go to Washington, Canada, go to fucking Mars for all I care. Just go and never come back." The two soldiers grabbed Kurt and dragged him out of his office, taking him to his domicile.

Acting Governor Seymour Inquart

Seymour stood, stoic as Kurt was dragged away. Never liked that wishy-washy commie. He sat down in the chair vacated by Kurt and pressed the desk intercom. "Mrs. Marston, please bring in the Declaration." His first order of business was clear. He needed to ratify the request to join the Confederation. The Confederate Diet had already accepted the Invitation but Kurt had initially refused to sign it. No matter. A quick signature and the document was signed.

He was about to say something when he noticed that Mrs Marston was crying. He quickly got up and asked her "Oh, my dear Mrs Marston, what wrong? You should be happy! What's the matter?" Mrs Marston said, through tear stained sobs. "Its...its my hus...husband, sir. He...he's...he's Muslim and I'm afraid...." She was really turning on the waterworks now. Inquart cooed in an attempt to empathize and hugged her. "It's ok, Mrs Marston, it's ok, your husband will be fine. Nothing will happen to him because he's Muslim." Marston looked at Inquart, still sobbing but looking hopeful, as she said "R...Really?" Inquart nodded. "Yes, of course! After all, the Conversion to the Church of America is painless, just a sermon and a quick baptism. And no one judges anyone based on their previous religion. Many members of the Diet were Muslim, heck, I used to be Lutheran before I converted. Its quick and painless, so there is no need to worry about it, your husband will be fine once he converts." Marston's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. Everyone was welcome in the Confederation. Once, and only after, they converted. The message was clear. Convert or get out or.... she looked out the window to the hanging men. The message was very clear. She was brought back from her thoughts by Inquart's voice. "I hope I have assuaged your fears, my dear Mrs Marston. I would hate to lose you as my secretary." She nodded wordlessly and left the office.

Inquart watched her as she left. They would need to watch her. He really hoped, for her families sake, that her husband converted. But on to more pressing matters. He walked out onto the Governor's balcony. Once the crowd saw him and realized what that meant the cheers below got louder. So loud, his first words could barely be heard.

"DEUS VULT!"

Louisville, Kentucky, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Kentucky border post 17, Clark Memorial Bridge

Sgt Martin Coombs, 7th Confederate Armored Cavalry

Sgt Coombs had been a veteran of the Confederate Army. Not saying much since the Confederate Army had never fought anyone, but still, he'd been in it for a while now. Never had he seen such a place of sin and debasement. Indiana. The American Lakes Union. They really were Heathens. Children of Sodom. The disgust in his gut was palatable. Godless freaks. He could see policemen or soldiers, guys in uniform, on the other side of the bridge. He had been given orders, simple orders really "Turn back all travelers in both directions until further notice. The border is closed." He scowled as he continued to look at the Sodomite on the other side of the bridge. He could not contain himself any longer. He had to say something. He turned to a private beside him. "Give me the bullhorn, Private." The private handed it over, a look of confusion on his face. Coombs went over to the APC he had arrived in and climbed to the top. He looked back towards Indiana. It looked even worse from on high. He could contain himself no longer. He put the bullhorn to his face, turned it on, and began shouting.

"HEATHENS! HERETICS! SODOMITES! REMEMBER ANTIETAM! DEUS VULT! DEUS VULT!"

He lowered the bullhorn, calmer than before. His men and a few civilians nearby began cheering, shouting at the Indianans as well. Coombs smiled.

Jeffersonville, Indiana, Border of Indiana and Kentucky, Clark Memorial Bridge

The soldiers on the other end were mostly Indiana National Guard, although there were a few Peacemaker consultants there to provide assistance. The border guard became nervous at the shouting on the other side.
“Do we fire a warning shot?” a grunt asked, aiming his rifle in the general direction of Kentucky.
“No,” replied the Captain on the scene. “Hold your fire.”
While the Kentuckians shouted Church of America slogans across the Ohio River, the ING forces stood there silently. There were no cheering civilians on their end: they had been scared off.

When Coombs  began to shout at the Indianans, one of the contractors wordlessly took out a video camera and began to record the Confederates, walking out on the bridge past the protective sandbag barriers to get a better audio capture despite repeated warnings from the soldiers manning the ALU side of the border. He seemed satisfied once Coombs ended his tirade.
“Got a good video there,” he said, handing it to another ALU contractor. “Chicago will want to see this.”
“I’ll upload it as soon as we get back to Watson,” the other contractor said, putting it in his breast pocket.
The two began to walk away from the border post. A soldier began pacing the bridge, brandishing an assault rifle with a grenade attachment.

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

President Thaddeus Braddock

Thaddeus fiddled with his black tuxedo tie in the crowded ballroom as he ignored the words of the 3 octogenarians lecturing in front of him. He absolutely loathed these bloody events, rubbing shoulders with the rich, conceited and pretentious pricks of the Confederation. Still, a necessary evil, alas, one he could not just foist onto Mendoza. He was busy on an outreach mission in Mexico. Once this business with Kentucky was finished it was onto the Mexican campaign. He was still doing his best to drown out the drones of the almost (but not soon enough) dead when a silky drawl from behind him brought him back to earth.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but could I burrow the President for a while? We have something to discuss." Braddock turned to face the matured and amused face of the Leader of the Confederate Diet, Jennifer Prescott. 'Thank god' he thought as he turned back to the walking tombstones "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but duty calls. Thank you for your time." Braddock walked away, beside Prescott, whispering under his breath, "Thanks, Jenny, five more minutes and I would have invaded the moon just to get them to shut up."

Prescott laughed. "What, the three wise men of Mississippi annoying the President? Or do you tire of unending praise for the 'Kentucky Miracle'?" Braddock shook his head. "Yeah, some miracle. We invaded, booted the governor and installed a pro-Confederate government. Miraculous." Prescott looked at Braddock with a thin smile. "I'd take your victory while you still can, Thaddeus. The Confederacy and even most of Kentucky might welcome our....intervention but the ALU Sodomites and the Canadians have yet to weigh in. Heck, the Federal Remnant in D.C hasn't said a word, either." Now it was Braddock's turn to smile. "Oh please. The Sodomites are to terrified to intervene, the Canadians to far to do anything and the Federal Remnant to weak to care about. No, Kentucky is ours. Plain and simple." Prescott raised her hands in surrender. "I guess that's why you'r the President, Thaddeus. Incidentally, how is your other half? It's been a while since I've seen them."

Braddock looked at Prescott, a bored expression on his face. "What, Silas? Oh, he's fine. Our darling girl, Johanna, got the flu so Silas is home tending to her. We still like the personal touch." Prescott laughed, a hearty and genuine laugh. "I bet he loves your 'personal touch', Thad." Braddock blushed but with a hint of a smile. "You men are so lucky. Never have to carry 13 pounds of extra human being inside you and then have to push then through a whole that is absolutely not big enough. Oh well..." A bell ringing signaled the end of the conversation. "That's for me, Jenny. Lovely chat, we really should do this more often." Jenny nodded and leaned over for a cheek kiss. "Sure thing, Mr President. Maybe reminisce about old times back in Mobile." Braddock chuckled and left to give his speech.

Dietwoman for Alabama's 3rd Parish, Jennifer Dale Prescott

Prescott nursed her champagne as she half-listened to the current speaker introducing Braddock. She liked him, heck, they came up the ranks together, her as a Diet member and him as the Governor of Alabama. This expansionist tone he was taking, however, would need to be tempered. Kentucky would be easy enough to swing. Mexico would be another story, though. And the ALU? They would be a problem. 'Oh well, cross that bridge later.' she thought. Braddock took the podium as the room clapped. Braddock adjusted his mic as he started.

"Kentucky!" Cheering. "Kentucky! Union! Brotherhood! Friendship! Co-operation! And for our Germanic friends, Anschluss!" The cheers became louder....

In the Middle of the Pacific Ocean between Japan and Hawaii

"Captain Leonty Viktorov, a huge storm is approaching us quickly."

The captain cursed under his breath. They were supposed to be investigating the status of the Pacific Islands. Who knows how off course they will get with this storm.

"Tell the others to bunker down below deck. We will have to brace this storm. You are dismissed."

The sailor saluted and left. Leonty muttered to himself, "This is not what Transamur needed."

~~~~~

Soon, the storm hit and the heavy rain pinged against the ship's metal hull. The ship groaned under pressure of the sea's waves. The captain looked out the window at the dark and furious sky, uttering a quick prayer to God.

Along the Shoreline of Alaska near Anchorage

The Battlecruiser and its complement made it safely past the storm, but it was way off course. The captain was relieved to see land. He addressed the officers on the deck. "Officers, we seem to have been blown way off course from our original destination. We shall moor the anchor here close to the shore and weigh anchor tomorrow, once we get our bearings together."

Later that day, the captain deducted where the ship was moored: near Anchorage, Alaska. The captain cursed, "Shit. We should not be here..."

Ottawa - December 25th

Prime Minister Leblanc and several other bureaucrats who weren't particularly interested in spending their Christmas doing a diplomatic visit sat down in meeting room of a once well and reputable hotel, the left side of the table purposely vacant. Canadian, Alaskan and Icelandic news crews and photographers stood in position, as if soldiers in cohesion, waiting for the ALU delegation to make their entrance. After ~5 minutes of waiting, the ALU delegation opened the doors, letting out a burst of camera flashes and "click" noises as they made their way to the table, Leblanc getting up to shake their hands.

Saskatoon - December 25th

Paul Walsh was cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper thrown about by his children. Rolling them all into a ball and throwing them in the dumpster, he left his children content with their new toys as he made his way for the exit. Walsh's family lived in a wealthy estate just outside of the city, virtually untouched by the epidemic. Walsh's children have never gone without want or need, and that he was proud of.

"They're in Corpus Christi? Excellent, remember, keep this on the DL. We don't want bad publicity for working hillbilly ISIS here, ya got me?", Walsh ordered on his Iphone, walking to the door. "And also-"

Walsh fell silent, then ran toward his burning car. He was mad but also scared. How did they go through the gate? How did they avoid the security systems? More questions buzzed through his head as he stood jawdropped, his Mercedes in flames. On the left car door, he can read PIG, and in the adjacent passenger door WE'LL BE BACK - WE'LL FINISH THE JOB. His secretary asked him what was wrong through the good three minutes of silence. "Stacy, uhh, get security over to my house, ASAP?"

Meanwhile in Corpus Christi, a shadowy band of suits walked into an inconspicuous hotel room, the media unaware of their existence. As they entered and made sure to close the door shut, one of them raised their voice - "Hi, I'm Jared Lu, a representative of Cameco. And you must be...?"

Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

December 23rd, 2032

9:31 PM

Lily and Kate were in a dimly lit basement along with a few other Lesbian women who lived cattered around Saskatoon and its outskirts. This basement was special, as it was one of the few black metal hangouts in the city and more importantly, it was one of the few black metal hangouts without tryhard metalheads going off about Satanism or whatever. That Lily and Kate appreciated. Kate had been in periphery of black metal for a while, getting involved in the local punk scene since she was a teenager and gradually evolving into more underground youth scenes. Lily was a completely new recruit who had barely started listening to black metal for a month. A part of her felt she was forcing herself to like black metal to please her wife, but she did hold an appreciation for stuff like Dark Throne and Mayhem the more she listened to it.

The other people in the basement were all Lesbian and Bisexual women through bizarre coincidence (the owner, Lisa says there used to be a bigger diversity of people, but they all moved away at some point or another). Despite looking like a stereotypical death metal type down to a T, they were all surprisingly lax and personable. Lily was nervous, thinking she needed to at least try to display an image of toughness and edginess, as well as simply having no idea what to talk about to anyone. Sitting in a couch behind a sharpie-drawn pentagram, a 6'6 tall woman sat next to her. Lily was a tad weirded out that a woman could be that tall, but she tried to pretend she didn't notice her until the woman spoke up, "So, do you like video games?"

She was dressed rather modestly for a small black metal club. She was in a plain black dress, black lipstick and long black hair. She looked more fitting for an after school church youth meeting than the black metal scene.

"Um. Sure, I guess. I like RPG games,"

"Ah, me too. There's this uh, Icelandic game out, called um RainQuest, or something like that."

"Oh, I've heard of that, is it any good?"

"Yeah, definitely! I can, like, um, help you through the early levels if you make an account. If you want.

"Cool"

A few minutes of deafening silence followed. Both wanted to continue the conversation, but it was obvious Icelandic RPGs weren't the ticket.

"You make black metal too?", "No" Lily responded. The woman said back "Ah, okay. Well, um, I have a black metal project, that I, uhhh, do. It's on um YouTube. It's called Abyss. um, not to advertise-" "No! that's fine, that's a cool name, actually. I'll check it out. Uh, what's your name?". She told her, "Oh, I'm Nadezhda! What's yours?" - "Lily, it's nice meeting you."

Nadezhda's phone then began ringing.  She looked at who it was and started abruptly speaking Russian in an annoyed tone. Two minutes of presumably angry conversation followed before Nadezhda put the phone down and told Lily "uh, hey. these are my parents, they want me to go home... uh, I'm still 19 and uh they want me to study now, like, I'm in college", Nadezhda stuttered a bit before Lily reassured her that she understood. Nadezhda sighed as she walked out of the dark basement, Lily again alone. She felt uncomfortable in this place. It didn't feel like her. It felt unnatural.

Later at home, before resigning to her fate in the factory the next day, Lily looked into "Abyss" on YouTube. After trudging through unrelated bands, she finally found what looked to be Nadezhda's "Abyss" - It was a channel with a whopping 58 subscribers, her videos rarely penetrating the ~150 views range. Humble beginnings, she guessed. She sifted through the 6 songs uploaded, apparently part of her "debut" album and picked what sounded to be the most interesting, the first song, called "Weeping in the steppe".  Lily was actually unsettled (and impressed) upon hearing it, aggressive bass and guitars unaccompanied by any drums or even melody for that matter with high pitched, agonizing screeching being emitted out of a low quality microphone. She couldn't even venture a guess as to what the lyrics were about, though a sizable portion of the vocals was just flat out screaming. She actually was starting to think Nadezhda was pretty cool, even though she was a full five years Lily's junior.

Lily Carson
Pretty tight. Kinda reminds me of Burzum's earlier music. Would love to hear more.

Bucharest,Romania
Palace of the Parliament
December 23rd, 2032

11:24 am

Andrei was getting ready in his small room inside the student's dormitories near the Mill's Lake. It was a cold morning, but the People's Rally was scheduled to start at 12:00 am sharp. Attendance was highly advised. He was still half asleep from the small party yesterday, thrown with home-made brandy, sent from his parents. He was feeling a little bit uncomfortable with the thought of braving the cold weather outside whilst it was so warm in his room, but, at least no school for today. Dressed with decently thick, old clothing, he exits his room and locks. The long hallway was covered in ripped posters. One could read offers for food, clothing, jobs all in red yellow and blue. He could hear cheering as he made his way, a bit hungover to the stairs. He exits the building and a strong and cold wind hits him hard. Yellow colors adorned the large snow buildups on the sides of the road. He heads towards Constitution Plaza.

11:53

Andrei reaches the crowd, which stretches a long way form the Constitution Plaza. Romanian flags, some with a cut out middle circle, others of the new rendition of the Protectorate. The chanting was certainly mixed, but most just enjoyed a social meeting with friends. Finally he finds his friends in a nearby Plaza, perched up on the stone part of a raised steel fence. "Rise and shine sleepy head.", "You are almost late.", "Better use a weaker drink next time." they greet Andrew. The speech was about to start, but the people didn't seem to care, they just talked everywhere, making a loud buzzing noise of voices and laughter.

The speakers around the streets made a buzzing noise of booting up and the crowd kinda stopped talking. On a large balcony facing the Constitutional Plaza from well atop the Palace of the Parliament, the Lord Protector Gavril came into sight. Dressed in a black long coat wearing a stylish hat of the same color he aproached the microphone. "Good day my fellow Romanians... Today, we have gathered here... To announce the official beginning of a new era... The Senate elected by you! ... the People! ... have approved... a new Constitution... for The Protectorate... of Romania... ensuring rights... and civil liberties... of all the people... we have endured unrest... hard times of scarcity... but no more! ... Soon... new products shall flow into the country... better jobs will be established... " the more dissenting part of the crowd, situated right in the center was chanting " NEVER! AGAIN! ANOTHER! CEAUSESCU! " making the Lord Protector a little uneasy, but making reply with the same tone, this was to be expected. " I understand your concern... I respect your opinions of me... but I am no Dictator... I am your Lord Protector... I shall provide you with food... with water... with security... and safety... I shall give you back... your happiness! ... that was... and is... my vow to you!".

The crowd cheered over the protestor's chanting, and military-police was already on the edges of the crowd with heavy duty gear ready, standing in the alleys, out of sight. They got orders to standby.

The Lord Protector Gavril, returned inside. The large room with a high roof was filled of high officials applauding Gavril, and sipping from expensive looking champagne. Madeline, his wife, came to him holding two glasses with liquor. " Good work dear! The PR department shall receive some praise for successfully predicting that." she says dressed in a pretty dress. "Thank you honey." Gavril replies, looking a bit worn out. He takes off his hat and coat, giving it to a waiter. " Where are those two rascal?" he inquires about the kids. He takes a glass from Madeline and tastes it. " Lord! They are running around the halls, the guards are trying to catch them! Lord!" a guard reports. Gavril gives out a hearty laugh. "Tell the guard captain, if he catches them, he can have a good ol' bottle of brandy, but if the kids manage to elude him for another 15 minutes, they shall be left alone. Any damage shall be paid by him."

Outside, the crowd has begun dispersing. But the protesters remained. The military-police forces moved up and encircled the mob with their APCs and started forming a line. The Commander uses a speaker, " This Protest was not registered with any governmental entity, thus it is illegal. Prosecution shall be carried out if you don't leave the premise!". About two third of the protesters quickly ran out through the barricades without resistance. After 10 minutes, the remaining protesters were showered with high powered water jets, and promptly arrested.

Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Beylerbeyi Palace
December 26th, 2032
10:00 AM

The Convocation of the Imperial Senators and Deputies officially opened precisely as the clocks rang their chimes, but almost everyone had gotten there at least an hour before. Mehmet had been placed on the Committee of Resource Attainment, but he found that was ever more being seen as the Committee on invading lands that just so happened to be full of Orthodox Slavs. This Convocation was just another gathering of the Imperial elite to mingle and coordinate, and Mehmet wanted to mingle with some very particular people-The Nicaean Exarchs. The Exarchs themselves wouldn't be present, but their representatives surely would. The more rural margraves hadn't often gotten along with their cousins on the water. They were still all Turks, however, and he knew he could put that to his advantage.
Osman, Mayor of Hendek, was just one of these representatives. He was short, slight man with wisps of hair stuck to an otherwise bald, light head. His glasses always seemed much to thick, no matter how many times he changed them, and his chin was almost non-existent, prompting a failed attempt at a beard which made everyone at these gatherings snicker.
"Osman!", the jovial Mehmet exclaimed, "It's good to see you, friend! How has Exarch Mustafa been doing, eh?"
"A-ah, yes, err...Mahmud? I've been alright, though it seems my liege lord is having me work my fingers to the bone sending letters and petitioning his Majesty about those infernal raiders."
Raiders?, Mehmet was practically giddy, though he'd have to hide it. It made him plain forget that Osman had mistaken his name. Raiders would mean a threat, and a threat would mean a pre-emptive strike. But first, he needed to know more.
"Raiders? Nobody told me about this, and I know all the goings on of the court..."
"Yes, well..." Osman began, but started to get nervous, and hesitated to speak
"Ah, Osman, you've already started! Spit it out!"
"W-well, I was informed by the court several times that my letters had been recieved, but...well, I have my doubts, yes?"
"You believe someone has not been relaying this information to the Emperor?"
"It would seem that way. In all my years dealing with his father he never simply stated he had received a message without further clarification. He always had his courtiers reply explaining the decision."
"While I must state that his Majesty is not his father, I can see no reason why there would not be an further explanation. Perhaps you would like me to petition him? I have a strong position at court, and as a brother Turk I have a personal duty to see your people, nay, our people are not neglected by their sovereign."
"Well, that would be wonderful, milord! But I'm not sure if the Exarch would entirely approve..."
"How about I make this better for you, eh? What if I made sure that officially it was you who petitioned the court, and you get the credit when it all works out."
"You've got a deal!" The old man shook Mehmet's excitedly, and handed him the documents necessary to articulate the position that the outskirts of Anatolia were in. Electronic messages and paper letters had been sent before, but all had never reached the court itself. The bureaucracy was full of scoundrels looking out for themselves, so the petition had to be a personal one. As the convocation came to a close about an hour after beginning, the bells rang again and all the attendees went off to their business with plots in formation and schemes coming to fruition.

Corpus Christi, Texas, NHCA

Secretary of State Peter Vanderlay

Peter stood as the Cameco representatives entered the room. To his left was Undersecretary for Department of Energy, Nuclear Affairs Office Thomas Delacourt and to Peter's right was Undersecretary for Department of Commerce, International Trade Office Sofia Wilde. He extended his hand as they took their seats.

'Hello and welcome to Texas, Mr Lu, may God's light shine on you. I'm the Secretary of State Peter Vanderlay. This is Undersecretary Thomas Delacourt and this is Undersecretary Sofia Wilde." he gestured to his left and right. Then the door behind him opened and a middle aged, well-dressed man entered. All 3 Secretary's stood up as Peter spoke. "Good afternoon, sir." He gestured towards Jared Lu. "This is Jared Lu from Cameco. Mr Lu, this is the President of the Confederation Thaddeus Braddock."

Volgograd City, Volga Federation

Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Before him stood several members of the newly formed Volga Federation's Ministry of Allocation, designed to decide where it would be best to distribute resources to the public. While it was not his place to speak, he still wished he could say something to silence their obnoxious squabbling. Each minister came from a different region, and each wanted the most for their region. Ignoring them, and leaving to another room, he began to continue planning for his grand ideals. Though annoying, the ministers had a point. If the Federation was to succeed, they would need more land, and more importantly, land available for growing crops. To get such land, he would need to flex the Volga's military muscle a little bit to deal with the raiders in such lands, but it was possible. He had the power to simply command it, but he still wanted the people's support. They should not follow based on fear, yet. He would make a rallying call, try to bring others to his side, perhaps a show of strength and a speech? Tsabrov chuckled to himself, what was that ancient American phrase? "There is no school, like the old school". Walking to his office, he began writing the letters he would need to amass such a display in such a short time.

27th of December, 2032

Bucharest, Romania

Palace of the Parliament

Gavril was sitting in his large office, looking out the window at the snow covered garden and smoking a cigar. As he puffs away he remembers about face of the guard captain when the children won the small "challenge" giggling silently between smoke puffs. He thinks to himself " Finally, things are becoming as before, now it remains to see if the ol' supreme council remains... ". As he was looking longly at the white sky through golden framed windows, his secretary comes in knocking. " Lord Protector, I just received the last of the status report from the municipalities and I got a personal letter for you ". Gavril extinguishes his cigar in the marble ashtray and signals the secretary to bring the reports.

Lake Mill, Bucharest

Student Dormitories

Andrei had just gotten home from another tiring day of work. He tosses his backpack and coat and crashes in the bed. The heavenly feeling was something he has been waiting for all morning. He almost falls asleep when snowballs hit his window. He gets up regretfully and looks out the window as anther volley just hits the glass. His friends were trying to get his attention with some urgency in their face. Andrei opens the window and yells " Is it that important? " , " YES " yell his friends. " Fine, gather the snow " Andrei responds and goes to get his coat on and boots on. Coming back to the window, his friends had gathered a large pile of snow below his 3 third floor room. Andrei gets on the window, makes the sign of the cross and makes the leap of faith. He falls like a damp sack. His friend hurry to pick him up. " Come on let's go! Cristina just got the message from her father. We are to meet under the bridge." his friends fill him up with the details. They get to the bridge over Dambovita river and descend on a ladder then walk on a steel platform and enter through a steel door embedded below the bridge. The group enters in small mansized tunnel and follow it until they reach another steel door. Andrei moves to the front and beats 3 times then says the password " We request entry in the sacred mountain ". The door opens and they are greeted by a armed man in military uniform. The group is led through small corridors until they enter this large hall filled with people.

Somewhere underground

Gavril was walking with his 4 bodyguards flanking him on all sides through small corridors. They arrive in a great hall full of people. A man dressed in a fancy suit walks up to him. " Welcome Lord Protector, we were just about to begin. " the fancy man greets him. " I came right after I got the message. Funny how I just thinking about the order. " Gavril explains himself. " The Lord works in mysterious ways my good sir. Now come, we shalt have a election. " the fancy man continues.

Andrei and his friends were discussing about how school was, complaining more or less. They weren't the only initiates at the meeting, but it was crowded and the older men around them didn't look in a good mood, so they stayed put. The fancy man walks in middle of the crowd and gathers everyone's attention asking them to be quiet. He then continues " My fellows, brothers and sisters, with the old grandmaster's death at the hand of the Plague, our order has been without a leader during the recent crisis. It was thanks to Brother Gavril that the country remained whole and order was reestablished. " , " Thank you brother, I only did what I was taught to. " Gavril comments. " Yes indeed, but with no other suitable candidate, I would like to nominate Brother Gavril to become the new Grandmaster! ". A silence fell on room, followed by whispering. Others came forth and nominated others, but to no avail. In a few hours of shouting and raising hands, Gavril was declared the new Grandmaster of the Order. It was almost evening. Gavril declared the meeting finished as it drew out too long. Everyone returned to their lifes.

Lake Mill, Bucharest

Student Dormitories

Andrei and his friends were just getting back. Everyone went their way. Andrei just climbed the last stair when he saw Cristina waiting at his door down the corridor. He walked awkwardly towards her. " Hello Cristina, didn't catch you at the meeting, what brings you here? " Andrei greets her. Cristina jumps on him and hugs him tight. " I heard you jumped out the window. You fool! " she pushes him and slaps him a good one. Andrei tries to explain that he was in a hurry but to no avail. " So, want to come in? Its a bit cold. " he tries to be polite. " Of course, I got the brandy ready. " . They get to a wild night with more jumping out the window, one time naked, going around the city doing some unremembered stuff, but anyway, forgetting about the school next morning, thing which they will come to regret nevertheless.

Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Royal Palace (Dolmabahçe Palace)
December 26th, 2032
1:00 PM

Milo had finished lunch when the court was called back into session for the afternoon. The first order of business was the petition from Senator Mehmet Akat. For some reason he'd decided to present his case directly to the Emperor rather than relaying the message to the court so it could be brought to the attention of the right authorities. Milo personally found it a bit improper. The Senate ought to be the ones debating action and then bringing it to his Majesty, not the other way around. Using the Emperor's jurisdiction as the supreme judicial authority to introduce legislation for debate instead of putting it through committee seemed as dirty as could be, but since he was ostensibly acting as representative for Osman of Hendek it was allowed.
"Damned politicking", Milo muttered under his breath as he made his way to the Chamber of the Judiciate. The Palace was certainly a big place, and even the drollest of courtiers couldn't forget that. The decision to move the court from the old, stuffy Topkapi Palace and the cramped "restored" Byzantine Villas was likely the one thing Milo appreciated being actively better in the reign of the new, youthful Emperor over that of his high-minded father.
As the court adjourned, Milo took his place as the 23rd from the Emperor on the right, a prestigious position to be sure, and watched as the Senator walked in.
Mr. Akat was a fat man, practically waddling his way into the room with a handkerchief ever pressed against his brow. A mess of papers inside a worn briefcase were all that would tell you he wasn't merely there to raid the pantry. A short little bow was conducted to keep properness before the recitation of his petition began.

"On behalf of Osman, Mayor of Hendek and Mustafa, Lord of Nicaea I have come to you today with upmost urgency. The borders of our great dominion have been repeated assaulted by brigands who every day enslave the commoners, destroy the sources of our revenues, and make off with moneys bound for the Imperial Treasury. Repeatedly we have asked for aid against these vile beasts, yet consistently we have been turned away from the doors of power, unable to seek redress for our grievances. Thus we implore his Majesty, the Great Sovereign of Byzantion and the Dardanelles, to take into his own hands what the bureaucracy could not, and make use of the Imperial Army to once and for all eliminate the threats to our borders."

Hushed whispers fell across the room. No one had been informed of the attacks on the border, after all. Was this merely a trick by the Turkish interests? Or was it active obstruction by the Orthodox? All fell quiet as the Chancellor whispered to his Majesty, prompting him to speak,
"Senator, I appreciate your initiative in seeking within the royal court the justice that could not be found by my servants, regardless of how irregular or uncouth it may have seemed to your peers. However, this is a matter for my Senators, and not myself. Thus I must abide by the limitations of the agreement your people created in forming this Imperium with my father. Know, however, that I will personally endorse any legislative action you propose to the Senate to prompt a deployment of troops to the area to quell this uprising against our laws and the affront against my citizens this represents."
The Emperor then left the podium and left the room with his Chancellor following closely behind. A polite applause was conducted by all the courtiers, but Milo noticed that Mehmed was clapping a little slower than the rest...

Bucharest, Romania

Palace of the Parliament

28th of December, 2032

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Gavril and the Minister of Foreign Affairs were discussing about the following foreign policy for the next years over a few glasses of whiskey. " Congrats brother!" the minister opened the discussion. "Thank you, I hear you were influencial during the debates, for that I am grateful. Been a while since a good old meeting took place." Gavril continued, sipping half of his whiskey glass. " Of course. Now what should we do with this world stage?", " Well we must show strenght. Our Council is also independent, so greater flexibility for us. Let us write some letter to see if we can make some allies. Of course, we shall have it grand.", " A conference my Lord? Well that sounds certainly interesting. I guess the Palace could easily acomodate them. Shall we simply try and built good relationships? " says the Minister a bit caught of guard. Those are many letters." Yes get to it. " Gavril says as he gets up and heads towards the gold framed windows, opening his cigar box.


In a few hours time, all the powers around the globe receive a message, or an invitation.

I hope this invitation finds you in favorable times and its read by the offcial head of state of the receiving nation.

If you are receiving this, you have been invitated to the be apart of the International Conferance of Bucharest, the ICB.

The aim of the Conferance is to promote diplomacy and peaceful relationships between nations to speed up the rebuilding of our scarred world.

Romania has decided to share its fertile lands by establishing a Global Food Market, the details of which will be discussed at the meeting.

All participants are advised to send their most trusted and closest representatives.

The Conferance shall be taking place over the duration of a week with all expenses paid by the Protectorate.

The Conferance shall begin on the New Year's Eve

We await your arrival by any transport means. 

 

Konstantiniyye, Neo-Byzantine Imperium
Imperial Palace of Law (Old Kuleli Military High School)
December 29th, 2032
3:00 PM

The progress toward creating a meaningful resolution from the royal assent had been bogged down by hostile interests and bureaucratic meddling from the start, but thanks to the Emperor's lip service Mehmed was able to attract enough support to have the legal clerk of the Palace of Law write a bill that could be introduced to the floor of the next convention of the Imperial Senate after the holiday break. It was during this stressful running back and forth between the Palace of Law and the Palace of Justice that the letter from the Romanians arrived.

Apparently they were finally opening up the country, and doing so under the guise of a conference for establishing a global market for food staples. At last an opportunity, Mehmed felt god himself was smiling on his work with the revelation. The Orthodox war hawks were the ones most hurt by this, and their grandiose plans of invading Romania were shattered into a million pieces, at least for now. However, that also meant they would likely stop at nothing to sabotage the conference so Romania wouldn't gain international recognition, and perhaps they might even try to mingle with the Volga Russians to get a joint invasion. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Mehmed quickly donned his jacket and headed out into the pouring rain to catch a ferry to the Offices of the Diplomatic Corps. A phone call wouldn't suffice, he needed to deal with this himself.

When he finally arrived and came through the doors, he immediately set toward the office of his close friend Giorgios Popodopoulis, to whom the task of appointing representatives to the Conference (which the Imperium would certainly attend) would undoubtably fall, considering his expertise in dealing with all things of the northern border. A quick conversation and a recommendation was all it took to get a man on the inside, and without any danger of his rivals in the Office of Domestic Security wiretapping his conversation thanks to doing it himself. With any hope, the man he chose would do exactly as Mehmed hoped. If not, god help the Imperium.

I hope this invitation finds you in favorable times and its read by the offcial head of state of the receiving nation.

If you are receiving this, you have been invitated to the be apart of the International Conferance of Bucharest, the ICB.

The aim of the Conferance is to promote diplomacy and peaceful relationships between nations to speed up the rebuilding of our scarred world.

Romania has decided to share its fertile lands by establishing a Global Food Market, the details of which will be discussed at the meeting.

All participants are advised to send their most trusted and closest representatives.

The Conferance shall be taking place over the duration of a week with all expenses paid by the Protectorate.

The Conferance shall begin on the New Year's Eve

We await your arrival by any transport means. 

Volgograd City, Marshal Tsabrov's Office.
Marshal Dimitri Tsabrov

Tsabrov pondered this heartily. On one hand, at least pretending to make allies can be beneficial, but should they attempt to harm his military policies he could be held accountable by the world. From what little intel he has recieved, he was one of the few nations with specific military inferstructure as a dedicated place for funds. Perhaps he could push for the belief of conquest however, and twist this to his advantage. Grinning to himself, he pushed the buzzer on his desk.
"Katya? Yes, please send for Yuri Abakumov, I have a job for him."

Bucharest, Romania
Palace of the Parliament
29th of December, 2032

The Lord Protector's office was like a war's HQ, dignitaries coming and going, regular shouting of information and loads of bottles of water scattered all around. It as very crowded environment. The big roomed seemed so smalled and filled with smoke. Gavril was at the center of it all, directing his messengers to send orders around the country. The logistics of the ICB weren't meager. They would have it as glamourous as possible. Schools were being drafted to partake in the welcoming, honor guards were being selected from the local military officers, the best of chefs were being gathered from all around Romania. Literally trucks of food were coming into the city to stock up the Palace's kitchens, dancing contests were taking place to select performers.

In the garden, overlooked by the Lord Protector's office, Madeline was walking with well dressed men in black suits and their wifes in winter dresses. " My husband is quite busy, I do believe you can see the small smoky windows of his office from here." she jokes. " Don't worry, its a big occasion for the order as well, after all, we have to assume all other branches are dead. " a man named Petru says with a calm, soothing, deep voice. He was a quite aged, around 50-ish, but nobody knew for sure. " I hear your son is almost a fully fledged member as well " the other man makes small talk." Ah yes. Andrei will partake in the initiations soon enough. He still has University to deal with. But I will make sure he won't squander the name of Reişa."

Somewhere near Bucharest, Romania
Countryside road

Andrei and Cristina were leaving after a weekend of fun in a countryside manor, hosted by one of the their more wealthy friends. They were traveling in Cristina's dad's car. " Can't wait to get home and wash my hair. I still can't believe he puked on me. " Cristina says rubbing her hair. " You washed it already with water and soap, but this is another proof of the superiority of Romanian dishes, you can't take out the smell" Andrei playfully teases her. " You bastard " she says punching him. It was late evening on a dirt road. They pass a old Pickup Truck that starts its engine and begins to trail them. "That's odd, were they waiting for us?" Cristina wonders. Andrei looks in the mirror and his face suddenly drops. It was a common robbery technique and he knew it. " Cristina... do you know if there is a gun in your dad's car? " Andrei asks nervously. Cristina then realized their situation and her heart stood still. " I... think...." she says with a shaky voice. Andrei starts searching under his seat and near the gear stick without saying a word. Cristina picks up on this and start searching too. She opens the small front compartment, quickly scrambles through some papers then looks at the back seats then at Andrei with a frightened look. Andrei looks at Cristina with a worrisome face. " Buckle up." he softly says. Cristina fastens her seatbelt and the Andrei steps on the gas. The engine roars and they speed off. The car behind them follows suit. Their car was a city car and the suspensions were sure showing it. Andrei looks in the mirror trying to catch a glimpse at the identification number of the car, but he only sees the cracked windshield and broken left light of the dirty white pickup truck. Their car hits a large hole in the road and Andrei losses control of the car. It hits the moat besides the road and flips it upside down. He wakes up around the middle of the night with a strong headache as a car was honking at the wreck. It was the others from the party. He barely looks around, just to see that Cristina is missing from the car and his valuables are gone.