Governor: The Kingdom of Miklozia

WA Delegate: None.

Founder: Mahina

Last WA Update:

Maps Board Activity History Admin Rank

Most Nations: 1,022nd Most Devout: 1,525th Most Valuable International Artwork: 2,256th+2
Largest Black Market: 2,406th Most Advanced Law Enforcement: 2,771st
World Factbook Entry

Welcome to the United Alliance!

Welcome to the United Alliance, a roleplaying region. Carve out an empire for yourself with cunning diplomacy, intrigue, and military prowess in our Twentieth Century theme.

Following the devastating Second Great War, which led to victory for the villainous United Empire and its New World Order against the democratic Allies, the world has been thrown into the darkness of the Cold War. Will democracy finally triumph, or will evil cement its global hegemony?


Want your nation placed on the regional map? Contact Miklozia on Discord with your map claim. | ENDORSE Miklozia!


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Current Date: March 1982
DEFCON 4

Founded August 9th, 2020
Featured October 6th, 2022



  1. 5

    Regional Directory / Welcome to the UA!

    MetaReference by Miklozia . 2,476 reads.

Embassies: Red Wolf Alliance.

Tags: Casual, Featured, Game Player, Human-Only, Map, Medium, Role Player, and Social.

United Alliance contains 20 nations, the 1,022nd most in the world.

Today's World Census Report

The Most Stationary in United Alliance

Long-term World Census surveillance revealed which nations have been resident in their current region for the longest time.

As a region, United Alliance is ranked 16,114th in the world for Most Stationary.

NationWA CategoryMotto
1.The Democratic Federation of IserkPsychotic Dictatorship“Light from Darkness, Strength from Unity,Peace from War”
2.The Princely Republic of VranastrovaNew York Times Democracy“Forever Into God's Light”
3.The Republic of Wallel PeopInoffensive Centrist Democracy“Strength Through Compliance”
4.The Republic of District Line 10Inoffensive Centrist Democracy“God, Homeland, Liberty”
5.The Emirate of ShuddakiFather Knows Best State“A life to scrutinise”
6.The Loving Couple of KidsShowFather Knows Best State“Lumity”
7.The Bannorn of StygiaNew York Times Democracy“Lōta”
8.The Kingdom of ArcadisiaInoffensive Centrist Democracy“광명천지”
9.The Republic of PoskietanDemocratic Socialists“Ever conscious of God, we aspire, build and advance.”
10.The Holy Empire of JeeztopiaIron Fist Consumerists“Sometimes a hug is stronger than a sword.”
12»

Regional Happenings

More...

United Alliance Regional Message Board

Ranieri

A Long Awaited End.
Rural Western Ranieri.
March 21st, 1983

Roger walked out onto the porch of his house in rural western ranieri. And For the first time in years, he has felt peace and content. He took out a cigarette and placed it on his mouth before lighting it. The nicotine buzz goes through him and gives him calmness and peace of mind. He had followed the news for a while back now, with the royal army accompanied by the ICN had disabled the nuclear reactors. The guns finally fell silent, and the great tragedy has been avoided. The World Breathed a huge sigh of relief on the news.

People on harlaus walked out of the subway stations after breathing in bated breath as they await the news from the mainland. They Knew the World would not be the same. A Few People Laughed, a few people cried, a few people shook hands and hug each other, most people were silent. He remembered the time when news of the conspiracy was announced, there was panic on the streets as soldiers tried their best to keep the people in line to gather their things and quickly go into the air raid shelters.

The World waited with bated breath, and when the news broke a massive collective sigh of relief was breathed out by everyone. People walked out of the subway air raid shelters, head held upright in the sunlight. For once they finally felt peace and contentment. Roger took a drag of his cigarette and looked out into the distance, he never realized how pretty his surroundings are. He then reflected on what had happened during his life. He had killed for his country, He had killed for his family, he had killed anyone who stood in his way.
but now, he could finally feel peace and content. he looked to the side and saw a revolver sitting on a table, he picked it up and checked to see if the pistol is loaded, and felt the cold metal against his skin, he had felt the same feeling for years, and for the first time he had noticed it. He then pulled back the hammer and places it on his temple.

Before taking a drag of his cigarette and closing his eyes.

Bang.

And a loud thud sound can be heard.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twenty Years Later.
Harlaus, Central Ranieri.

As the early morning light filtered through the dusty window, casting elongated shadows across the cramped office, Richard Hartman sat hunched over a cluttered desk. He pushed aside a stack of old newspapers, their pages yellowed with age, and reached for a worn leather-bound folder. The faded gold letters on the cover read: "Roger Mortensen - Classified."

Richard had spent years working for the secretive intelligence agency of Ranieri, tasked with compiling information on the elusive hitman. The mere mention of Roger Mortensen sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened agents. The man had become a ghost, leaving behind a trail of death and destruction that spanned continents, a testament to his lethal skills.

Opening the folder, Richard stared at the blackboard that dominated the small room. Photographs and newspaper clippings were meticulously attached, connected by a complex web of red lines. Each image represented a life snuffed out, a tragedy perpetuated by the very man he sought to understand.

Among the photographs, Richard found one of Mortensen during the Ranierian Civil War—a young soldier with a stern expression, decorated in military regalia. He had fought bravely, a hero among his comrades, before his path took a sinister turn. The victorious Army Clique had recognized Mortensen's lethal talents and enlisted him as their clandestine weapon of choice.

For years, Mortensen hunted down leaders of enemy factions, eliminating any remnants of resistance. His victims were key figures in the conflict, whose very existence posed a threat to the newly established order. Richard's heart sank as he saw the faces of politicians, activists, and rival generals, their lives snuffed out in a single, silent strike.

But it didn't end there. Mortensen had seamlessly transitioned from a government-sanctioned assassin to a tool employed by the highest echelons of power within the syndicate. His targets extended beyond national borders, stretching into foreign territories where the law held little sway. Prominent businessmen met untimely ends, politicians were suffocated in hospitals, and entire families perished in inexplicable house fires.

Richard's fingers traced the red lines, his mind grappling with the enigma that was Roger Mortensen. The trail led him to 1983, when an assumed address was engulfed in flames. The world assumed Mortensen had perished, his secrets consumed by the inferno. The chaos he had sown seemed to have finally come to an end.

Until now.

https://youtu.be/4-J4duzP8Ng?t=46
Recent sightings had emerged, mere whispers carried on the wind. Mortensen, alive or dead, had been spotted in distant lands.

Arcadisia, Magna kalonia, Humitia, and Elost

Magna kalonia

Child of the Lion (Part 3)

November 21st, 1982

Elden, Occupied Kalonia

~~~

"And when Aucerosa and the entire world are once again free…"

~~~

Gallow stood in the centre of the Square, located below the towering Strainist architecture of the New Parliament Building. The sky above him was a crimson colour, fading into the only inky blackness.

Somewhere, far off, Gallow heard a song. Whether he imagined it, or it was being played on the wind, he did not care to wonder. The song was indescribable, a faint whisper of stringed notes, played by soft hands, for soft ears.

Gallow smiled. Tonight, tonight would bring Hope. Resolve. It would be the night of the Lion. Of him.

Gallow read his watch. Any moment now.

Two Constables began to walk towards Gallow, in the empty square.

"Oi. You are out past curfew. Papers." said one of the Constables.

"Ah, my mistake, Gentlemen." said Gallow, reaching into his coat.

He glanced to the streets. He saw figures lined down the streets and roads leading to the Square. It was time.

Gallow's hand clenched onto the grip of a snub nosed revolver, he wrenched it from his pocket. It began.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Three shots rang out, reverberating across the empty Square. The Constables fell, one bleeding from his neck, the other from two wounds in his chest. They both made a choked gurgling noise, as their life drained from their bodies.

Gallow withdrew his porcelain mask, placing it on his face. He fired the remaining three shots into the sky. Chaos erupted.

Hundreds of shadowy figures poured out from the roads, alleys and homes around the Square. Voices chimed in from across the now growing crowd. Hundreds of feet pounded across the square. Several Kalonian Agents ran through the crowd, barking orders to the rioters.

It all happened so quickly. Within minutes, a group over 400 strong was collected in the Square. Gallow brought a megaphone to his mouth.

"PEOPLE OF ELDEN! PEOPLE OF KALONIA! PEOPLE OF FREEDOM!" shouted Gallow.

The crowd cheered in response.

"TONIGHT! TONIGHT WE FREE OURSELVES FROM THE DEMONS! TONIGHT WE TAKE BACK WHAT IS OURS, OUR HOME, OUR ISLES!" screamed Gallow, the cheers were deafening now.

A Kalonian Agent pointed to a black armoured truck, a tattered Kalonian flag flying from it, as it drove into the square. It quickly skidded to a halt. In the back of the truck, four men began offloading sleek weaponry, some of it from as far back as the Second Great War.

"TO ARMS! MORE WILL FOLLOW!" shouted Gallow, gesturing to the truck.

Some among the crowd had brought their own weaponry, several held makeshift incendiary weapons, bottles filled with gasoline and topped with rags.

The riot was underway. Finally, After all this time, it was beginning.

Sirens could be heard wailing in the distance, but so too could the sounds of rioting. It was growing. Constables frantically ran out from the New Parliament Building, weapons raised.

A senior officer barked at the crowd.

"BACK DOWN, OR WE WILL HAVE TO FIRE!" said the officer.

The Constables did not seem to follow his passion. Many of them had already lowered theirs weapons. Before then stood their own brothers, their sisters, their fathers, their mothers. Their kin.

Fourteen of the twenty Constables turned, aiming their weaponry at those of them who did not yield. The senior officer began to bark at his Constables.

"DISLOYAL! ALL OF YOU! TURN AND FIGHT!" He screamed, his voice falling on deaf ears.

Gallow did not see what happened next. He did now know who fired the first shot, but the crack of thunder sounded, all the same.

Behind the throng of rioters, he saw half a dozen dead men, and a dead senior officer, lying before the steps of New Parliament.

The crowd surged, an amorphous collective, bursting into the doors of New Parliament, trampling the dead. Blood ran down the steps, but Gallow did not care to dwell on the sight of caved in bones and lost souls.

Gallow barked at the rioters.

"EVERYONE, HALT!" he said, walking to the front of the crowd, some did not listen, and continued down the halls of the large building.

Before them stood the main doors, to the Hall. He knew several of the Grand Duke's corrupt ministers sat behind it, likely cowering for their lives. Gallow motioned to Lark, the agent quickly ran to the doors, a small black object in his hand. He attached the device to the base of the door, ushering the crowd to move back before backing away from the small device at the doors.

"WEAPONS READY! LOOK AWAY UNTIL YOU HEAR MY WORDS" said Lark, his voice booming almost as loud as Gallow's.

Most of the crowd turned, as Lark stepped back and pressed a small device in his hand.

KRAKOOM.

An explosion rocked the ground, the heavy wooden doors bursting in on their hinges, splinters and smoke coating the floor before them.

"GO!" screamed Lark, the crowd bursting forth into the Hall.

Dazed Ministers cowered behind their seats, as a small team of security guards stood around the floor of the Hall, their eyes shocked. The guards withdrew weaponry, but it was too late, the crowd launched a volley of bullets into them, cutting the guards down. The Ministers continued to cower. Many of the rioters rushed forth, restraining and beating the corrupt traitors before them.

Agents began to order beatings to cease, and properly restrained the Ministers. Gallow walked forth, stepping over the bodies of the guards cut down by the Riot. He walked forth to the chair of the speaker, abandoned and damaged by the commotion.

Gallow withdrew a knife from his pocket, the same he had used to spread the first message, those few years ago. He cut into the leather. A small phrase gouged into the aupousltry.

"FREE KALONIA"

The crowd around him cheered, many picked over the Hall, vandalizing and stealing small mementos. It was reasonable, yet there was no time to pause. Gallow stood, turning to face the rioters inside the Hall. It was no doubt many more had collected outside. Gunshots could be heard from the Square.

"I stand before you all, people of freedom. I stand to say that we are on the path to Liberty. I have no doubt many of you can see the end. It is no doubt in sight. Tonight, Elden bleeds, our freedom will come at a cost. Deep wounds must be gouged. We can only hope that the fire of freedom and the courage burning in our hearts may cauterise the damage. We will not give in, for the promise of a better tomorrow." said Gallow, the Riot around him thrumming with pride.

"Tonight, the Lion roars again, its cage torn asunder. Our fury will vindicate the terror wrought upon us. For freedom, for glory, FOR KALONIA!!!" shouted Gallow, delivering a revolutionary salute to the crowd.

The Rioters began to surge, many returning to the Square. Lark moved to Gallow.

"We have word that the buildings around the Square have been fully cleared. We have thousands out there. The KFIA has told me that Special Operations are on route, their boats are ready and they will be here within 18 hours. We must secure the Harbour, and move upwards to secure more of the downtown area." said Lark, Gallow nodding quickly at him.

Gallow walked from the Hall, the crowd around him surging, tearing the Hall apart as Gallow left. Before him, the Square. The sight was chaotic, yet Gallow felt a sense of pride, as he looked out from the New Parliament steps.

A horde of rioters buzzed about the square, off in the distant skyline, pillars of smoke could be seen rising from fires likely lit by the riot. Gunshots rang out, as the sights of broken police vehicles littered the roads into the Square. Men and women shouted, their voices lost together in the storm of chanting, of screaming, of rebellion. Behind it all, the distant wail of sirens still echoed on, as faint as the sliver of scarlet light still on the horizon.

"Freedom…" Gallow whispered under his breath, the word floating out of his mouth with a new sense of meaning which he has never truly tasted.

Gallow withdrew his megaphone once more.

"PEOPLE OF ELDEN! CHILDREN OF THIS RIOT! LIONBEARERS!" Gallow shouted, the megaphone carrying his voice above the masses; a preacher delivering a sermon to his followers.

"THE NIGHT IS YOUNG, AND STILL WE FIGHT!! NOW YOU MUST SPREAD THE FLAMES OF FREEDOM! KALONIAN AGENTS WILL ORGANIZE YOU INTO MILITIAS, WHERE YOU WILL FIGHT FOR THE CITY BLOCK BY BLOCK! I WILL JOIN THIS FIGHT AS WELL, TO FREE ELDEN HARBOUR! YOU ALL MUST FIND YOUR OWN FIGHTS! TAKE UP THE TORCH! ROAR LIKE THE LIONS YOU ARE!!!" Bellowed Gallow, those below him on the steps began to cheer.

Lark stepped to the side of Gallow, and delivered a revolutionary salute to the rioters. The cheering was like a rolling thunder.

~~~~~

One hour later…

Elden Harbour, Elden, Free Kalonian Enclave

~~~

The rifle cracked, as Lark chambered a new round. The Seaman of the Grand Duchy had erected a barricade from on-hand supplies to attempt to halt the rebel advance into the Harbour, the well trained sailors putting up a good fight in resistance to Lark's Militia.

Behind him, Gallow crouched behind a barrier, over three dozen militiamen couching with him. All of their lives rested on Lark's shoulders.

He was looking for something, anything to break through the barricades the devils had erected. His men launched barrage after barrage of bullets, zipping like angry teardrops across the battlefield, with every barrage came another in retaliation, two of his men had already fallen to the gunfire.

Another barrage hit their cover, dust exploding from the concrete barrier they hid behind. One of Lark's men ran to him.

"Sir, we have a line of communication with a Grand Duchy ship within the harbour!" said the man, carrying a bulky portable walkie-talkie.

Lark quickly ducked out of cover and shot more rounds down at the barrier, a cry sounding as one of the seamen fell. Blood coating the barrier even more than before.

"What do they want?!?" shouted Lark, as he ducked back down below cover.

"The crew aboard has mutinied. They say that they are able to attempt a shelling of the fortified positions on the harbourfront!" said the man with the walkie talkie, his voice barely audible above the return fire.

"Do it! Tell them to drop their flags as well, it won't be pretty once the harbour is liberated!!" shouted Lark, as Gallow and two more men stood and unloaded their assault weaponry down at the barrier.

The man shouted into the receiver of the walkie talkie, as Lark ordered his militia to take shelter. They all ducked, covering their heads. In the distance, deep booms shook the night, as several arcing shells cut through the night sky like shooting stars.

They fell as thunderbolts, connecting with the area in and around the barrier. Lark turned and ducked as the barrier exploded.

Boom.

The ground trembled as the barrier heaved and launched outwards, the damage of the shelling tearing both flesh and concrete asunder. Debris rained down around the militia, as Lark quickly turned, to see the burning wreck which stood before them.

"Deus Ex Machina… Vindication…." muttered Lark, as the men around him stood from their cover.

The barrier was levelled, along with the warehouses and homes around it. The blast carpeted the area in smoke and dust. Orange flames flickered, like ghosts mired in a misty moor of rubble and blood.

Lark watched as Gallow walked forward, others quickly following. Gallow collapsed onto his knees before the rubble, muttering something as he grabbed a fistful of the rocky debris.

"Traitors… yes… but still Kalonians…" said Gallow, an aura of shame and grief surrounding him, an aura Lark had never seen in the young man.

Lark walked to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"We must make sure that they were not killed for nothing. We may bury what is left of them when the city is liberated." said Lark, looking into the mask shrouding Gallow's face.

Gallow coughed, standing up. He pointed to the man with the walkie talkie.

"Tell them no more barrages are needed. They should dock before another ship attacks them. The harbour is soon to be liberated." said Gallow, the man quickly relaying the orders.

Lark walked forward, continuing with his men down into the harbourfront. The sounds of gunfire far off in the distance were the only noises besides the crunch of feet on rubble and the crackling of fire.

After several minutes of uninterrupted walking, they reached the Port, a large building with many ships moored at its port. The doors hung open, a Grand Duchy sailor sitting on the steps. He looked up to the approaching militia, and raised his hands in surrender.

"D-don't hurt me, I am n-not with the Strainists!" shouted the sailor, stammering as he clumsily backed up the stairs behind him.

"Where are the rest of you?" said Gallow, walking to the man with his gun raised.

"They all abandoned their posts… they shot the commanding officer and changed their uniforms… they are off in the city somewhere." said the sailor.

"And why did you stay?" said Gallow, lowering his gun slightly.

"I needed to see if the rumours were true… if Elden really will be liberated…" said the sailor his watery eyes looking to Gallow like a begging animal.

"It certainly is true. In fact, in about 16 hours, this port is about to be very active." interjected Lark, the sailor looking up at him.

"W-well, I hear that the m-military police will be here… you might want t-to get inside…" stammered the sailor.

Gallow patted the man on the shoulders. Lark and his Militia files into the port. Gallow sent the soldier in as well, as he followed shortly behind.

Elden's skyline was alight under the inky blackness of night. The fire of the Lion raged brighter than ever.

Gallow smiled beneath his mask. It was glorious. It was all moving together as a grand machine. A rebellion. The Second Kalonian Rebellion. The one to succeed.

Gallow chuckled, the Lion moved once again. Rising from the ashes like a Phoenix. Something stirred within Gallow. Something long forgotten, choked below cracked earth. His blood was alive with hope. His people, his family, they awoke once more.

~~~~~

Sixteen hours later…

Unknown Vessel, One Kilometre from Elden Harbour, Kalonia

~~~~~

Commander Hawthorne stood beside his Fireteam. The group stood in the belly of a small ship, Hawthorne rested his back on the hull of the ship, around him, his group of a dozen of the nation's finest, Special Operations Agents.

Hawthorne watched before him, the crimson light of sunset washing over the skyline faintly coming into view. Their boat was disguised as a fishing vessel, although Hawthorne had attempted to dispute the vessel. After all, in the chaos of the riot, no one would watch the harbour.

The agent at the helm of the ship radioed in to the Commander.

"Twenty minutes to landfall" said the agent, Hawthorne nodded and walked to the bow of the ship, the Fireteam looked to him.

Each of the agents clad in the same black tactical armour as him, only distinguishable by the varied patches on their shoulders and vests. Hawthorne cleared his throat.

“Fireteam Swordfish-V, we will be landing in approximately twenty minutes. At this point, our objective is to infiltrate the city and meet up with rebel sects. After which, we will await further instruction from embedded Kalonian Agents with the KFIA. We have a limited amount of time, and I expect every one of you to succeed. From what I can parse from the info leaked down from up top, our enemy is demoralised, afraid and confused. We intend to use that to our fullest advantage. Is that understood?” said Hawthorne, his voice barked out in a sharp and authoritative tone.

“Sir, yes, sir!” answered the Agents, each of them standing up with their rifles at hand.

The boat fell silent, as Hawthorne walked to the stern of the boat. The darkness of early night setting in over the water. In the distance beside him, he could see other vessels, each slowly cutting through the water lazily.

The Commander waited as the lights of Elden Harbour came into focus, the boat cutting across towards the Port.

Several minutes passed, as Hawthorne stood looking at the city. Columns of smoke could be seen in what remained of daylight, gunfire could be heard piercing the silence on the water.

The Port drew near, only a hundred or so metres now. Hawthorne saw as what appeared to be an armoured military police vehicle pulled up to the Port, he noticed that several more trucks and cars surrounded the front of the Port, seemingly engaged in a standoff with those inside the building. It had almost been a day since the fighting began, and it was not out of the question that sieges had already begun.

"Prepare for landing. One minute." said Hawthorne, his voice projected into the belly of the ship.

His agents prepared, quickly filing onto the main deck. The Port drew close, and a figure in a long black coat could be seen standing upon it.

Hawthorne walked to the bow of the ship, nodding at the figure. The figure's face was shrouded in the broad brim of a fedora, an agent, no doubt.

Hawthorne nodded to the figure.

"We'll take it from here." said Hawthorne, jumping from the deck of the ship onto the Port.

His Fireteam followed, twenty-six boots slamming against the Port. Each agent carried a weapon, rifles, shotguns and even a grenade launcher. They walked immediately through the Port, boots tramping on the ground like drums played by a military band.

"Rule Kalonia. Make us proud, agents" said the figure, tipping his hat.

Hawthorne nodded, and proceeded to match onwards. As they moved through the building, they were met with looks of awe and confusion by the several armed citizens scattered around the Port, like a plainclothes garrison. They continued to march to the main entrance of the Port, where shipping crates and spare materials had been converted into a strong barrier, behind which stood the majority of the militia, several of them wrapped in bloody gauze. A man stood out to Hawthorne, a man running about the others, giving orders and making blazing claims to boost morality.

Most notably, the man wore a porcelain mask, emblazoned with the flag of Kalonia. The man did not see the agents move towards him, yet as Hawthorne stamped his foot on the ground stopping his 13 agents in an instant. The man turned at the noise, and he dropped the megaphone in his hand.

"You all came after all…" said the man, his voice filled with ernesty.

"Fireteam Swordfish-V, here to help. My name is Commander Hawthorne, I presume you are in charge here" said Hawthorne, looking at the masked man.

"Yes, I am. They call me Gallow, I am sure you may have heard of me. We've been barely holding, the military police won't stop sending men at the Port" said Gallow, his tired voice seemingly more relaxed.

"Well, we are Kalonia's finest, Mr. Gallow. We know what we are doing" said Hawthorne.

"SWORDFISH-V!!! LET'S GO!" said Hawthorne, walking to the barrier and clambering up to see over the other side.

The Fireteam followed his lead, bracing at the side of the barrier. Behind the barrier, around two dozen black and tan military police waited, several of them peering out of the hatches of their armoured vehicles. Hawthorne nodded to the agent carrying the grenade launcher. The agent produced a black canister from his pocket, the side sleek. A metallic pin and lever sticking into the side.

"CLEAR!" said the agent, hurling the cylinder over the barrier.

The team ducked as a bright flash eminated from across the barrier, along with a strong "BANG!", the team then launched themselves over the barrier, the dazed military police blinded and disoriented on the other side.

In quick and surgical movements, each agent quickly unloaded rounds into their enemy, pushing forward slowly as to press their advantage. The sounds of thunder echoed across the Port. The grenade throwing agent shot his grenade launcher at one of the armoured personnel carriers, a fireball quickly engulfing it. The screams of the enemy were loud and plentiful.

By the time the smoke faded, every one of the military police sat dead or dying. Several of those not immediately at the Port quickly returned and surrendered at the sight of the bloodbath.

Hawthorne slowly walked to the centre of the Port. He turned to the barrier.

"You can come out now! We have hostages for you to take" he said, smiling as several of the militiamen poked their heads above the barrier.

The barrier slowly was taken down, and as it was dismantled, two more boats pulled into the Port. Two more Fireteams. Hawthorne looked out at the water. Several more had already landed further down the Harbourfront.

Hawthorne walked to Gallow, patting him on the shoulder.

"It is time for liberation" said the Commander, Gallow nodding in return.

"It has been far to long" said Gallow, the spirit of the Lion ever brighter.

Gallow walked to the edge of the Port. Under the dark crimson sky, the world felt so alien. Never before could he have imagined this very moment. He lived that moment all the same.

Lark walked to Gallow.

"Your job here to fight has been done, Gallow. The Rebellion needs a leader. They need you" said Lark, bowing his head slightly.

"We have already organized with the other sects, and it seems the city will be liberated within the month. After that, we will move further inland. After that… well… if the United Empire begins to fall, we will be freed" continued Lark as Gallow turned away to look at the water.

"Do you think it will all work out in the end, for us?" said Gallow, smiling behind his mask.

"Most certainly, my friend" said Lark, smiling as well.

The two men sat, looking out at the sky and the water. The liberation would soon come. It would be glorious. It would be…

~~~~~

Thus Always to Tyrants

March 12th, 1983

The Outskirts of Westgate, Home Isles, Kalonia

~~~~~

"We may look upon our children and grandchildren and say that we forged a better world..."

~~~~~

The golden grass blew gently around the feet of Gallow. His whole essence was live with hope, opportunity and joy. It had been a few months since the Liberation of the Home Isles. It was joyous.

Gallow had made a small exit, this day. A small exit to stand out in the most beautiful of days. The freest of days.

He looked out, watching the golden fields sway in the breeze blowing gently in from the water. Below him, down a gentle rolling hill, sat what remained of Westgate, now a gentle and quaint village, rebuilding from the ashes. Vindicated.

Gallow smiled out at the water, at the gentle rolling blue surrounding him. No doubt in Elden, they were celebrating, a return of the royal family, a reuniting of all those seperated by so many long years, a Strainist wall and a giant ocean. Gallow had nothing like that to return to, yes, he was celebrated as a hero, a leader. Some wished him even to become the Prime Minister. Gallow sought none of that.

It was a beautiful day, and he simply cherished that. His work has been done, and Kalonia was liberated. The world could rest peacefully, with the Lion returning to its home and the Falcon speared and dying.

It was a beautiful DAY.

Gallow wore no mask, nothing to hide. Anthony Thomas Urnum. Great-grandchild of such chaos, such a mad nation, brought into the pride of the Lion. He had no home to return to, no home besides Kalonia. It accepted him, it cherished him. No one knew exactly who he was, nor did he. It was a sudden realization, it was nothing massive, just… an idea.

He would have many more ideas, and many more chances to be a hero, but today… he could rest. As below him and all around him, the world rebuilt. The menace who had plagued his nation has been silenced. He has been freed.

The sun shined upon him, upon his nation.

It WAS a beautiful day.

He smiled and sat down, looking out to the shining blue expanse before him, surrounded by a coast of gold.

IT was a beautiful day.

Gallow closed his eyes. He thought of what he had done, of Lark, of the Rioters, of a welcome orange-bathed pub, of a message scrawled in blood. He thought of a free Kalonia, and he opened his eyes. He didn't have to imagine further.

It felt unreal.

It was A beautiful day.

He felt it all around him. The culmination of such effort. The product of almost half a century in work.

It was a BEAUTIFUL day.

Gallow smiled. His story may be done as a hero, but a new story was starting. Somewhere, he knew that is was all going to be alright. That the world could rest for a long while now. It was time for reconstruction, to build from the ashes. It would be beautiful, and he knew all would see it if they simply hoped. He was proud, proud of what the world would become.

It was…

Gallow walked towards the water, the golden grass billowing around him. With him, Kalonia's story was taken into the wind. It was for fate to carry, lovingly.

The tyrants were gone, and it was glorious. It was beautiful.

The Lion had been returned. It would be alright now.

https://youtu.be/ChVV5EVL4W4

The End. The Beginning. The Future. The Past.

Kalonia moved into a new future. Filled with hope.

Nordaxica

Nordaxica wrote:THE QUEST TO HARNESS THE POWER OF THE ATOM

It’s not Boring, it’s Groundbreaking!

In the mountains of Nordaxica…

They’d been drilling for months, finishing the work Vranan prospectors had started decades ago before Nordaxica had devolved into civil war. The work had been slow and tedious but had sped up in recent weeks with the involvement of a mysterious benefactor. Modern heavy equipment had rolled up to the dig site suddenly one day, delivered by tight-lipped government officials. What would’ve taken the workers a month was done in days by the machines, with more truckloads of dirt and stone leaving the site every day.

At the base camp, two men sat together in an office; making small talk on their lunch break…

“...I just don’t get it, where did our government get the funds to supply all of this heavy equipment? The pickaxes they supplied us with initially were barely able to punch through a piece of paper, now we’ve got excavators carving stone out like it’s clay? Explain that to me Ali, you’re the foreman, you have to know something.”

“Look Ahmad, if they wanted us to know where this equipment came from, they wouldn’t have stripped the brand names from the sides of the machines. It’s not my job to know why we’re digging, it’s just my job to make sure we are. And look, you and I both know it beats the poppy fields so let’s do our best not to upset the hand that feeds us.”

“You’re right. I just can’t help but feel like something isn’t exactly right here…” Ahmad stirred his tea and brought it up to his mouth to take a quick sip before setting it back on the table. He looked around nervously and his voice was noticeably lower when he finally spoke again. “Remember the fellow in the suit who came with the equipment on the first day? He was a foreigner, didn’t talk much but when he did, he had an accent he tried to hide… was it just me or was that accent distinctly…”

The door to the office burst open as Ahmad turned around so quickly he sent his tea flying off of the table. In the doorway stood a man wearing dirty overalls, bent over slightly panting as if he had just sprint the length of a marathon. In his right hand he held up a device that sounded like a skipping record player, cradled in his left arm was a rock. He gasped out something indecipherable in between breaths.

“Speak up boy!” shouted Ahmad, pissed that his tea was now slowly spreading in a puddle on the floor.

“Sir we’ve… found the… motherload.” He pushed the device closer to the rock and the scratching noise emanating from the device increased in frequency. Ali, still shocked from the intrusion, was puzzled for a second before he recognized the device in the worker’s hand: a Geiger counter. After months of work, they had finally hit uranium.

THE QUEST TO HARNESS THE POWER OF THE ATOM

Shady Intentions Come to Light

In a government office in Agrahbad…

“... all finally taken care of. The shell companies have funneled in the last of the heavy equipment and the trucks are almost ready to start moving the uranium to export.”

A man clad in a black suit stood in the middle of the office with his back to the seated government official. He was mindlessly throwing a small ball up into the air and catching it and he listened to the official ramble on. He caught the ball one last time and interrupted the official.

“But perhaps… not all of the uranium needs to go to the other countries of the world?”

The government official raised an eyebrow “What are you implying here?”

The man in the suit turned around and smirked “I’m not implying anything my friend. I’ll lay it all out in the open right now. I’ve read your papers, I know how you feel about Aucerosa and what they’ve done to Zudea over the years. The world hasn’t paid any attention to your complaints. They also haven’t paid any attention to your uranium operation, including the processing facility near the site, which is why we chose your country.

We initially wanted another source of nuclear material, hidden from the rest of the world. But with the shifting winds of power, that is no longer necessary. So now you sit on a wealth of uranium with a near-operational processing facility ready to take in that uranium. But that processing facility, which refines the raw uranium and then enriches it, doesn’t need to stop at nuclear fuel for a reactor. Theoretically, it could create… weapons grade uranium.”

There was a pause, as the official sat there stroking his long flowing beard. “What would Nordaxica do with weapons grade uranium? We couldn’t make a missile, and the international community would be up in arms against us immediately!”

The man smirked once more. “No, you couldn’t make a missile. But I’m not asking Nordaxica to build a nuclear weapon. I’m asking al-Takfir. You want a return to the religious principles that used to guide this world, and you want revenge on the Aucerosans for violating the sanctity of those principles. Well, we’re similar in that regard. They’ve violated the sanctity of the principles set before us by the Eternal Leader and for that they must pay. I know you can handle secretly building a dirty bomb my friend. It is time for us to make the world pay for what they’ve done to us.”

The government official sat there in silence for a long time, stroking his beard as he mulled over the proposal. While the black suited man waited, he returned to tossing the ball up lightly in the air before catching it again. Throw, catch, throw, catch, throw… drop. The ball rolled out of his hand and onto the floor before settling at the foot of the official. The room was now dead silent.

The official bent over to pick up the ball before walking over to the man, pausing before handing it to him. “You know, not many people know of my ties to al-Takfir. Even less know what it really is. They call us religious extremists but their ignorance betrays them. I would like to see the world remolded in God’s image. Perhaps if we work together, that will finally be possible.”

The official stretched out his hand, offering the ball back to the man in the suit. He smiled as he took it back and for a brief moment, as the ball touched both of their hands, a thought flashed individually through each man's mind.

The world is in our hands now.

A Collab Between Humitia, Astreopa, And Ranieri
With Appearances From Elost, Skirgard, And Afrique

======================================================================================

I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire

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March 4th, 1983, Harlaus, Central Ranieri, Ranieri

Loud footsteps can be heard as someone sprints down the hallway from the mailroom towards the prime minister's office, with the look of distress etched onto his face and beads of sweat running down his face. When he reached the door leading to the prime minister's office he was stopped by the prime minister's adjutant who was typing something down on a computer. The adjutant then looked up to the sweating man who is going to open the door to the prime minister's office before he turns around and says, "Whoa hey, where's the fire?" The man then turns around to face the adjutant while he is fixing his tie and wiping down the sweat on his face using a handkerchief, before saying "It's urgent. I need to speak with the PM." The adjutant then chuckles before turning to face his computer again while he chuckles before gesturing for the man to sit down on a chair in the waiting room, "Sit down, I'll tell the PM you're here to see him.'' The man then sits down on a leather sofa near the adjutant's table whilst twiddling his thumbs and placing the brown folder on the sofa next to him. The adjutant quietly picks up the phone on the table which is a direct connection to the phone on the prime minister's office desk. He is waiting for the PM to pick up the phone and finally the prime minister's voice can be heard coming out of the receiver, "How can I help you, Siggi?" Before his adjutant Siggi responds "Sir, There's someone here from the mailroom who wants to see you, he says it's urgen-'' Siggi is unable to finish his sentence as the man stood up and took the receiver from his hands before speaking "Mr. Prime Minister, this is alexander from the mailroom, I have a letter that was addressed for you." Alexander said frantically, before the prime minister laughs and brushes it off, before continuing.

"What's so urgent about that?" Alexander then said "It's from pascal in the ICN." then a deafening pause can be heard before the prime minister then replies "is that so? Then come in." Before turning down the phone. Alexander then returns the receiver to Siggi before fixing his tie and picking up the folder and walking into the prime minister's office. When he is inside, prime minister Martin Jockenheim is sitting on his chair behind his wooden desk before standing up and holding his hand out to take the folder from alexander's hands. Alexander then hands over the brown envelope, and watches as the prime minister opens the folder, a roll of tape is taken out of the folder and is placed on the desk, the prime minister then takes out several letters and reads through the letters, before listening to the roll of audio tape on a small tape player on his table. The audio tape is a full recording of Roddington's speech to the ICN general assembly. After reading through the papers and listened to the recording, Martin visibly turns distressed before picking up his phone and says "Siggi, Get the Secretary of Foreign Affairs. Now." before putting down the phone. Minutes later, Albert Hardrada, the Secretary of Foreign affairs of Ranieri walks into the room. "Why did you call me in sir, how can I help you?" Hardrada can see that the prime minister is distressed. Martin then looks at Hardrada before saying "Establish a Secure line to Estios and Marham. Now."

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March 4th, 1983, Estios, Astreopa

The Emperor sat in his study, alone and pensive. The soft sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting shades of a faint glow in the room.

He had just received some very important news from his trusted Miss Sheppard, from the ICN. A unique vote would take place, and the Emperor now had to reflect on the resolution that would be reached by the international community in a matter of hours. The stakes, this time more than ever, are dangerously high.

At one point the telephone on the desk rang, Alexander's piercing eyes turned to it, his expression agitated but attentive. He lifted the receiver and his strong, authoritative voice cut through the silence of the study.

"Yes? Who is speaking," he stated with regal confidence, his voice had a certain weight to it, yet there was no sense that anything was troubling him.

From the other end of the line came the voice of the switchboard operator, which echoed slightly in the receiver. "Your Majesty, we have an incoming call from Rainieri; a matter of utmost importance, it is on the private line."

Emperor Alexander leaned back in his leather chair, a slight furrow in his brow.

They must have read my mind... he thought.

He silently poured himself a cup of steaming chamomile tea before replying.

"Pass it to me immediately, please" Emperor Alexander asked, in a firm voice. He stood waiting, while he sighed: he already imagined what news they would discuss.

The receiver is picked up by the emperor, and before long Martin's voice comes out of the receiver. "Your Majesty. This is Prime Minister Martin Jockenheim from Ranieri, I am sure you probably have guessed what is the purpose of this call.", after finishing that sentence a deep long sigh can be heard before Martin continues his call. "I have received distressing news from our own delegate in the ICN. And the Development of things has gone....not in our expectations."

"They have gone bad… quite bad." Martin said before pausing for a few seconds and continuing. "Lord Roddington has announced several very distressing news in the ICN's general assembly." He pauses for a while to sigh before continuing. "But with his precedent of humor and rule breaking made it hard to actually believe it. This is a large gamble for the ICN, if it does not happen and we intervene, the ICN would lose all of its remaining credibility in international recognition. but if it actually happens and we turn a blind eye, the ICN would also lose any semblance of recognition and jurisdiction it has left... but when he mentions nuclear reactors that threw a massive spanner into the works, and I believe if anyone does nothing… well, we have a continental spanning disaster waiting to happen." Martin pauses for a while to let the words sink in.

Taking a deep breath, the Emperor replied in a measured tone: "Prime Minister, I understand the gravity of the situation. I had news from my delegate in the council today. It is essential to proceed with caution, considering the potential risks involved. However, my course of action is almost in harmony with that of Ms. Sheppard."

He paused, allowing himself a moment of reflection before continuing: "I will consult with my advisors and review the available information. We must act swiftly and firmly."

The emperor's voice conveyed a sense of determination and resolve. His mind was already racing, considering potential courses of action, the implications of each and the potential consequences.

“I recommend convening an emergency summit of the CPM to discuss our options and formulate a unified response. This is a critical time, we must act in unison. By the time we meet I believe the ICN will have reached a decision... I pray it will be the right one." Declared the Emperor.

As the words hung in the air, Emperor Alexander could almost feel his fears rising.

In the background, the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock reminded the emperor of the urgency of the situation. Time was of the essence and the decisions made in the coming hours would reverberate far beyond the walls of his study.

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March 7th, 1983, Isograd, Humitia

A few days later, in the general assembly of the new CPM headquarters building, International Hall, A gavel can be heard, before a loud voice cut through the silence; " This CPM Meeting is hereby officially started."

In front of the adjudicator's podium is a smaller podium which would allow anyone to come forward and present their case, in front of that is a large circular desk with several chairs around it. PM Martin and the Ranierian delegation is sitting on one side, Emperor Alexander and the Astreopan delegation is sitting on the other side, And President Carolina and the Humitian Delegation is sitting on a different side. The Delegation from ELOST sits on one side, The Delegation from the State of Afrique sits next to the delegates from ELOST, and finally The Skirgardian Delegation is sitting next to the Delegation from Afrique.

Prime Minister Martin then stood up from his seat and walked up to the podium, before standing behind it. He opens the folder and clears his throat before beginning his speech.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Esteemed Delegates, Fellow Leaders, And Fellow Members of the CPM. My name is prime minister Martin Jockenheim from Ranieri, and you all know why I am here." Martin pauses for a while before continuing.

"I am not an orator, and I will try to explain this as simply and understandable as possible, I'm a professor. And we have a continental spanning disaster waiting to happen." Martin pauses again to open the folder and read a document, it was a transcript of roddington's announcement in the ICN.

"From Golheim yesterday we received news that is not favorable to hear. We did not wish for this to happen but it happened. Lord Roddington in the ICN some time ago announced a resolution for an ICN intervention of helping the royal army overthrow the united empire in Miklozia. The news was not favorable but a massive spanner was thrown into the works when Roddington mentioned overloading nuclear reactors, then it became everyone's problem." Martin pauses again before gesturing to an employee to bring in a blackboard.

When the blackboard was brought onto the podium, Martin began to draw a small schematic of a nuclear fission reactor. All whilst explaining how a nuclear meltdown would happen if the reactors are overloaded. "A nuclear meltdown can occur when a reactor is overloaded, leading to a catastrophic failure of the core.".

He then began to draw lines pointing at parts of the schematics "In a nuclear power plant, the reactor core contains fuel rods that undergo controlled nuclear fission to generate heat."

After that he pointed onto another part of the schematic. "This heat is used to produce steam and generate electricity. When the reactor is overloaded, there is an excessive buildup of heat that the cooling systems may struggle to dissipate. As a result, the fuel rods can become overheated, causing the fuel to melt and release radioactive materials."

Then Martin pauses for a while to let that sink in, before continuing his explanation, "This can breach the integrity of the reactor vessel and containment structures, releasing radiation into the environment and posing a significant risk to human health and the environment. The consequences of a nuclear meltdown can be severe and long-lasting, potentially making the environment around it inhabitable for long periods of time." Martin pauses again to let that sink in.

Martin then turns towards the other delegates, before continuing, "The UE has over ninety of these reactors, and their plan of overloading these reactors could have potentially released an apocalyptic level and continental wide radiation disaster. And as the CPM, we have made it our mission to be prepared for these events." He finishes.

President Carolina speaks up. "Yes, this is true, what matters right now is how prepared we are. Some of us have had only a few years, others, a full decade. As such, the questions we must ask ourselves now is just what we have collectively done. And more importantly, what if the Strainists after or during the reactor overloads, decide to launch their nuclear arsenal."

She collects herself for a moment before continuing. "Some good news on that front, is that as per CPM Audit Protocols for such an event, we have papers ready for such reports." She has an aid bring one in, and once handed begins reading it to the assembly.

"Looking here, we have already ensured complete communication between all bunkers and outposts between all member states through underground mass communication relays and wires, all of which are heavily reinforced and can only be reached by similarly reinforced tunnels or designated hatches, depending on proximity to the bunker. All of our militaries have ample stockpiles of CBRN Rated equipment and troops trained to use them. Mass stockpiles of everything we could need more.

Nuclear Plants have been reinforced and connected to local bunkers, mines, and stockpiles allowing continued operations and electricity flow, including sizable underground storage. In fact we have large stockpiles of pretty much everything and the farms, workshops, and equipment needed to also add on to those stockpiles and replenish them if the bunkers close.

All important data, such as history, genetic material for different plants, and everything in between are kept in secure self-sufficient outposts far away from any place even considered to be targeted by warheads, and are also connected and shielded. And lastly, dozens upon dozens of outposts littered across CPM territory designed to do nothing but capture and entrap radiation and radioactive particles automatically are in place and ready to be activated. All in all, we're doing good on that front, but what now must be asked is the most important part of this. Just how many bunkers have we built and how many people are we able to safely store within, and how many of those in existence have an underground tunnel connection?"

Martin sighs in relief slightly, quietly happy that they are prepared. He looks at president Carolina and replies. "We did a population census a few months back, and we have upgraded the bunkers to be able to house everyone with extra room to grow and to house refugees if possible.

We prepared several levels of underground bunkers. Level 1s are the most common and are often located in private homes and rural areas, their main purpose is to shield civilians from early nuclear fallout and is equipped with supplies that'll last for three months, while they await pick up by soldiers that is going to take them to level 2 shelters, which are located in more suburban areas and army bases, their purpose is to house and count the survivors in a temporary manner, with advanced medical care, bed and food alongside security provided by soldiers, and is connected by underground connections of underground train with reinforced tunnels and CBRN air filters that'll make the air breathable, the train runs 24/7 that is going to take them to the level 3 bunkers, which are located deep under mountains to prevent any radiation leakages and strikes. These level 3 bunkers will house the survivors in the permanent manner, with self sufficient electricity, heating, telecommunication, and security, and state of the art medical facilities. We have quite a lot of these bunkers, and the bunkers that house every medicine, herbal or chemical specimen are located in secret locations that are unknown to anyone.

In the event of a nuclear strike, we have built and tested the finished HARE radar site and LENI ABM batteries, and we have been at work building HARE radars and LENI ABM batteries in ELOST, the Radar is undergoing final electrical adjustments and the ammunition for the batteries are being shipped over. And we are open if you want to build these sites in either Skirgard, Humitia or Astreopa. And in terms of preparation we have conducted constant air raid drills.

To prepare to save as many people as possible, as much of the gold reserve, and as much of the national treasure as possible. I do not want to disclose further but we have heard rumors that we prepared a purpose built bunker that will be filled with the entire Ranierian gold reserve and it's national treasures, and another bunker that'll only store blueprints and schematics, and a bunker that is filled to the brim with weapons and vehicles."

"In regards to HARE and LENI, I thought we already had sites like that across the CPM?" President Carolina asked, slightly confused.

"Wait, hold on, I’m gonna check that report again." President Carolina quickly responded before her question could be answered. After a few moments, she spoke again.

"Huh, wow, ok so we do, we all have separate systems outside of ELOST as you've said, they have your system. But ignoring that, it appears we don't actually have a unified anti-nuclear system, we each have our own or are sharing with 1 other member, and they're integrated to a degree, but apparently they're still independent enough to be separate systems. If Doomsday doesn't occur I say we immediately get right on that, all in favor?" President Carolina asks.

"Ranieri is in favor." Martin replied whilst raising his right hand.

"Afrique is too in favor of this motion." Said the Afriquesi representative before also raising his hand.

"Astreopa too is in favor of this motion." Said the Emperor by raising his hand. "And about the possibility of an apocalyptic meltdown? What is the official position of the CPM? In favor or against a preemptive invasion?" he asked, looking around.

"Given the timeframe we have, it can be safely said that this nuclear meltdown plan is likely to be activated very very soon, meaning an intervention now will simply put many of our troops needlessly in harm's way. Well, outside of those who joined the Royal Army and their coalition and ICN engineers and ground troops we've already provided. No, it is better that we keep our men back, so that way in the event of this catastrophe happening, after the first few years go by and the fallout is done raining down and the radiation has reached its maximum effect, we can march out and begin searching wherever they may be hiding themselves." President Carolina said.

She then clarified. "The surface may be inhospitable to human life for centuries, but that does not mean we can't have troops protected against such things to begin clean up operations and search efforts. Both for lucky survivors, and to hunt those down who caused this. I highly doubt they also don't have a bunker just for themselves to use." Carolina finished.

The Emperor listened carefully to President Carolina's words, frowning in concern.

"President Carolina, I understand the desire to protect our troops and plan for the consequences of this catastrophe, it's completely in harmony with the spirit of this organization of ours."

Emperor Alexander began, his voice full of empathy.

"However, I firmly believe that prevention should be our main focus here; I highly doubt that Lord Roddington and, especially, the enigmatic figure of STALION, informed us without giving us any room to maneuver in order to act. We cannot simply wait passively for the consequences. We must do everything in our power to avoid such a catastrophe".

He continued, in a firm but measured tone:

"I propose we coordinate a joint operation, combining our resources and expertise, to target the former United Empire and disable their capabilities. By doing so, we can reduce the risk of the Armageddon to a minimum, if not avoid it entirely, save lives and safeguard our nations in a preventive manner".

The Emperor's words hung in the air with the weight of his conviction.

"President, I implore you to reconsider. Let us act decisively and proactively, with the goal of avoiding this catastrophe altogether. Our troops, our citizens and the stability of our nations depend on our collective resolve. Isn't, after all, prevention also one of the goals of the CPM?"

President Carolina sighed. "You are correct, and while I may not like it, if we can somehow get engineers and troops over there before the meltdowns, then so be it. Even a few of them being shut down means that much less radiation and radioactive dust. Very well, all in favor of an official CPM intervention alongside the ICN, should they decide to?"

Prime Minister Martin raised his hand before saying. "Ranieri is against. Intervening and sending ground personnel would only add more fuel into the fire. We should limit our intervention at sending weapons and equipment packages to the Royal army and the ICN. Remember, our mission is to get as many people to safety as possible."

He looked towards a man sitting on a chair in the Ranierian delegation section before nodding and returning to look at the other delegates, before continuing. "And by that I am bringing us all into our third and final order of business. You see, direct intervention by deploying ground soldiers into Miklozia could spark a nuclear conflict, and that is what we want to exactly prevent. And by arming the royal army could help us achieve our objectives without ever having to spoil Humitian," He pauses as he looks towards the Humitian Delegation.

"Astreopan," He says as he looks at the Astreopan delegation.

"Ranierian," he says as he looks at the Ranierian delegation.

"Afriquesi," he says as he looks at the Afriquesi delegation.

"ELOST and Skirgardian Lives." He finishes as he looks at the ELOST and Skirgardian Delegations.

He then flipped to another page and spoke up again. "And this is my resolution, fellow delegates. We provided progressive arms packages for the royal army over the course of several years, so they could finish the mission quicker and more effectively. From simple things like tactical equipment, first aid kits, and ammunition. To complex things like ABM batteries, assault rifles, ATGMs, heavy machine guns, armored vehicles, tanks and even fighter jets. Now, all in favor of providing the royal army with a progressive arms packages."

https://youtu.be/AISkUx8iaBo
The Emperor was relieved by the words of the delegation of Ranieri and Humitia. Perhaps they had finally managed to agree on how to proceed.

Alexander cleared his throat and in a warm, calm tone exclaimed:

"That sounds like an excellent idea, however I think more practical and hands-on help is also in order. If not in official capacity as members of the CPM and UDF, should a unanimous vote in favor not be reached, I believe that this assembly would not object if its members still acted independently by making their technical and military personnel available in a shadow operation of the ICN. Regardless of this, I am still in favor of support by sending military equipment."

"Given how we were already doing that, effectively being one of the main suppliers of King Clement's army by far compared to the 2nd greatest supplier and so on, I see no reason we can't expand these operations. Though I do worry, what of the newly freed nations? Their nuclear grids are all still interconnected, and given how they're just starting to rebuild pretty much everything about themselves, how do we even start with that mess?" Carolina asked.

Martin looked at Carolina, before replying. "Madam President, if independent actions by CPM member countries are done, the CPM would not stand in their way. And in terms of who to support, we should bring in the representatives of the movements and provide them with deals. Whether they'll accept civil and medical aid, or solely military and medical aid, but first things first we shall expand the operation of sending military aid to the Royal army in a progressive system of arms packages."

Carolina replied. "Very well, I believe our course of action has been decided and there is nothing more for us to do. I advise that we end this meeting now and return home, waiting to see if things truly end and get our affairs in order." She then sighs before speaking one final time before everyone leaves. "May god help us all if we reach midnight. Good luck everyone, I'll see you on the other side of this."

Arcadisia and Magna kalonia

Nordaxica

Nordaxica wrote:

THE QUEST TO HARNESS THE POWER OF THE ATOM

Shady Intentions Come to Light

In a government office in Agrahbad…

“... all finally taken care of. The shell companies have funneled in the last of the heavy equipment and the trucks are almost ready to start moving the uranium to export.”

A man clad in a black suit stood in the middle of the office with his back to the seated government official. He was mindlessly throwing a small ball up into the air and catching it and he listened to the official ramble on. He caught the ball one last time and interrupted the official.

“But perhaps… not all of the uranium needs to go to the other countries of the world?”

The government official raised an eyebrow “What are you implying here?”

The man in the suit turned around and smirked “I’m not implying anything my friend. I’ll lay it all out in the open right now. I’ve read your papers, I know how you feel about Aucerosa and what they’ve done to Zudea over the years. The world hasn’t paid any attention to your complaints. They also haven’t paid any attention to your uranium operation, including the processing facility near the site, which is why we chose your country.

We initially wanted another source of nuclear material, hidden from the rest of the world. But with the shifting winds of power, that is no longer necessary. So now you sit on a wealth of uranium with a near-operational processing facility ready to take in that uranium. But that processing facility, which refines the raw uranium and then enriches it, doesn’t need to stop at nuclear fuel for a reactor. Theoretically, it could create… weapons grade uranium.”

There was a pause, as the official sat there stroking his long flowing beard. “What would Nordaxica do with weapons grade uranium? We couldn’t make a missile, and the international community would be up in arms against us immediately!”

The man smirked once more. “No, you couldn’t make a missile. But I’m not asking Nordaxica to build a nuclear weapon. I’m asking al-Takfir. You want a return to the religious principles that used to guide this world, and you want revenge on the Aucerosans for violating the sanctity of those principles. Well, we’re similar in that regard. They’ve violated the sanctity of the principles set before us by the Eternal Leader and for that they must pay. I know you can handle secretly building a dirty bomb my friend. It is time for us to make the world pay for what they’ve done to us.”

The government official sat there in silence for a long time, stroking his beard as he mulled over the proposal. While the black suited man waited, he returned to tossing the ball up lightly in the air before catching it again. Throw, catch, throw, catch, throw… drop. The ball rolled out of his hand and onto the floor before settling at the foot of the official. The room was now dead silent.

The official bent over to pick up the ball before walking over to the man, pausing before handing it to him. “You know, not many people know of my ties to al-Takfir. Even less know what it really is. They call us religious extremists but their ignorance betrays them. I would like to see the world remolded in God’s image. Perhaps if we work together, that will finally be possible.”

The official stretched out his hand, offering the ball back to the man in the suit. He smiled as he took it back and for a brief moment, as the ball touched both of their hands, a thought flashed individually through each man's mind.

The world is in our hands now.

Fade into Obscurity

The Presidential Mansion

President Daud Khan leaned over the edge of the balcony, the ground only a floor before. The presidency had begun to take its toll on him, his skin sat tighter on his face while wrinkles were beginning to appear more often than not. To many in his country, he was a hero. Their standard of living had improved rapidly, they had jobs other than tending to poppy fields and subsistence farming, and many had a voice in the nation's politics they never had before.

To others, he was a villain. Women were voting, infidels allowed to walk the streets unmolested and Aucerosan influence in the nation's economy sat at an all time high. al-Takfir, once an unknown fringe religious sect, had become so brazen and powerful that they almost rivaled the government in influence. Car bombs were becoming more common and it seemed like all the process Khan had made in modernizing his country was on the verge of collapse. So was he though, which didn’t help.

As it turned out, Khan’s status as a symbol of modernizing Nordaxica made him a large target for al-Takfir. Friends of his had begun to go missing, only to show up brutalized or even dead days later. Shadowy figures were constantly seen patrolling the walls around the mansion at night and the guards could never seem to catch them. Not to mention, Khan’s wife had died a month ago in a violent car crash that had at first seemed like a total accident but now even that was in question.

Khan sighed, perhaps he was not made for this. Perhaps Nordaxica was not made to move forward. Perhaps… al-Takfir was right, the world would be better off under their version of Islam. He leaned further forward over the balcony. If only it was higher. The sky was beautiful under the sunset, streaks of orange looked like flames as the sun left and the world began to return to darkness. A knock on the door broke him out of thought and he turned around to face who it was.

It was his longtime friend, Ayman al-Zawahiri; esteemed religious scholar and local governor for the capital city. His long flowing beard gave him away anywhere he went. To al-Zawahiri’s side stood two of Khan’s personal guards. “al-Zawahiri! My friend, what brings you here?”

There was a sadness in al-Zawahiri’s eyes as he responded, taking his time with each word. “My friend, I wish I was here on personal business. You came into power as a shining star among your competitors. You were going to bring Nordaxica back from the brink of failure, back from obscurity. We would be the crown jewel of Zudea, that's what you told me. And now, where are we? Our religion is under attack at your hands, our economy is no longer ours and our politics are tainted. I had high hopes for you my friend, but you are no longer what this country needs.”
Khan attempted to protest but al-Zawahiri cut him off. “When it came to our people, you have given many of them a good life, they no longer suffer while they live out their lives here. But what of the afterlife? Can you say they won’t suffer there? I cannot. Like a sheep bred for slaughter, you have plumped them up before leading them to their destruction. So I have come to take power, I am the shepherd that will save them. Man cannot live on bread alone.”

The guards brought their rifles up, aiming directly for Khan’s chest and the reality sank in for Khan. “Friend… I can see that it is not worth arguing with you. So with the few breaths I have left, all I ask is that you take care of my children.”

al-Zawahiri paused, seemingly having expected a greater fight from the soon-to-be disposed leader of the nation. “They will be taken care of, I promise you. I wish this could have gone differently old friend, but I must take the reins from you. Goodbye and may we meet in the next life.”

A single tear rolled down President Khan’s face before two shots rang out and his body fell over the railing and onto the ground below. The last of the sun's rays disappeared as the night sky turned black and the ground began to turn cold under Khan’s body. al-Zawahiri walked forward, leaned over the railing and gazed over his new realm, once more plunged into darkness.

?

The Olympic Games
The Wildly Impractical One
March 8th, 1983

"...and oh, oh!" Henry pulled out yet another pile of papers for the tired advisors to see. "Of course, I almost forgot. We have to make a bid for the Olympics!" He grinned as he set out the final paper for everyone to see. "Well, what do you think gentlemen?" There was a long pause. Finally, a young advisor spoke up.
"Sir, with all due respect..." He paused yet again, wondering where to even begin. "Firstly, the vehicle designs you submitted are...pretty genius." He looked through them. A massive battlecruiser to replace the elderly Large Cruiser from the Greater Plains Nations, using modern technology, a cruiser designed to be the mainstay of the Arcadisian navy, and a destroyer, also designed to be a mainstay. And of course, they all had a low-radar output. The armored fighting vehicles were rather similar, a tank using the most modern of technology designed with the mountainous Arcadisian terrain in mind, an infantry fighting vehicle that could also be used as an assault gun that also used similar electronic optics to the tank, and an anti-tank gun strapped out with AT missiles and tank gun, based off of the Miklozian APC chassis. "Sir, none of these are feasible with today's technology. I will be rather frank with you here sir. All of this is like...20 years away MINIMUM, even with our advanced technology."
"Oh..."
"I will have these run through the government's arms procurement apparatus. But I will be honest here, it may be decades before any of these designs ever see light. Secondly, a space program idea is wonderful, and I wholeheartedly support it. But..." He looked at the picture again. "I feel like we're being way too ambitious, and not thinking of our actual abilities."
"I...see...."
"I noticed in your military technology papers -" Papers? They were more like drawings. "- that you mentioned military satellites to link up and support the tanks, planes, and ships under a unified system. I'm surprised you talk more about military satellites in the military section than the space section, really. It's got recon, communication, navigation, and spy satellites. All of these are amazing plans, and some of these concepts are in use by other countries, not only for military, but for civilian purposes. A lot of it is impractical in the present day, but there can be useful information to be gleaned from it. We already have talked about using communication satellites not only for military as you mentioned here, but also for things like television and radio." He looked over the other papers. "Space telescopes and scientific satellites are great, but we definitely ought to start with earth-observation satellites. Not just for military and espionage, but also for weather and mapping." The advisor looked at Henry's slightly dismayed face. "Of course...we'll keep these other ideas too. It's not practical today, but it may be feasible in a few decades." Henry wasn't sure he'd be around by then, but he kept his mouth shut. The advisor wasn't sure either, but he had to admit, they were good ideas, if a little too far out for the present day. "We also already have plans for a Space Station up in orbit by 1992, and while it's nowhere near as big as the one you proposed, it's definitely possible to expand on what we already have and add these parts in as we expand."
"Oh, were you developing a space station outside of my knowledge?" Henry asked. He felt that he probably wasn't going to live to see that either, but as another advisor pulled up plans for a smaller - but still advanced space station, his eyes lit up. "That's amazing. Looks like I didn't need to do all this work after all." He looked at his current space station design. "Or not, as you said, we could have two stations." The advisor nodded.
"I will put a kibosh on human space exploration though. We need to sort out earth-affairs before we send other humans onto a foreign planetary body. It's not that we don't have the technology - we don't have the money and manufacturing capacity to do all of this at once."
"Oh, ok." Henry looked a bit dismayed, but he still smiled, knowing that the future of Arcadisia was going to be great even after he left.
"As for the Olympics..." The advisor scratched his head. "It's just a terrible idea, our economy can't-"
"Or can we?" Another advisor said. "If we invest a lot of money now, not only can this Olympics serve to show the world Arcadisia's new democratic government and improve our image, but it can also be a way to expand our cultural influence, as well as making a lot of money. Play our cards well and we might make all the money back."
"I can't agree to this, what about the dangers?" Henry stood up and put his hand on the advisor's shoulder.
"But...it can be done, correct?"
"Well...yes. And if done well, it can make us money." Henry's mind quickly ran some rudimentary calculations. Money from Olympics, money to people, money from people, money to "practical" satellites. Money from satellites, and eventually, enough money to begin the wild military expansion as well as the possibility of spaceflight. He was sure he was oversimplifying that a bit, but it worked in his mind.
"Alright, new idea. Keep the blueprints in a drawer somewhere. I know how we're going to do this."
"I presume we are the ones working the kinks out of this plan?" The advisor asked.
"Yep." Henry said, with a shrug.
"Figures."

The 88' Summer Olympics
September 8th, 1988

Well, they had won it. The advisor looked around, dazed. Henry, the man who had planned the thing wasn't around to see it, but he was sure to be happy about it, wherever he was. Then again, what was one of the greatest undertakings of his life seemed little more than a side-hobby, a fun little hobby for the epilogue of his life, so maybe he really didn't care. Henry had been through a lot and the life he led in the world that was present was probably idyllic compared to his old life. Still, he wished that the late prince had understood his concerns a little more. He hadn't slept in a week as the paperwork piled up on his desk. As workers toiled outside, finishing the final touches to the stadiums, as foreigners poured in from every single conceivable country, as athletes from within Arcadisia and without prepared for the games, he slept on his desk, the final sheet of paper signed and mailed. His work was done. There was a lot of noise outside as stalls showing off Arcadisia's culture, history, and scientific might rapidly assembled themselves to the visitors, but he heard none of it. Finally, he could rest.

September 9th, 1988, 5:00AM
The man woke up with a start, to some rude knocking on his office door. Something about some waviers. Something about a conference. He trudged out of the room. Henry may have died thinking it to be the end of history, seeing a final utopia and every loose thread come to a close, but the truth was far from that. As far as he knew, life went on as always. And in life, there are always crises. Apparently there wasn't enough housing for all the visitors, and they would need to work overtime once again to get everything back in line. It was possible, but it was going to be hard.

Humitia

Epilogue 1: A New Movement, A New Age

Humitia, Isograd, International Hall
March 8th, 1988

"... and that is why, esteemed delegates, after nearly 5 years since the fall of the United Empire and with the last embers of resistance and war crime trials ending just a few days ago, I propose these changes to the core of the CPM-UDF." Were the echoing words of a man, a representative for one of the breakaway states of the UE. Such things were not new, even when the nations first declared independence and CPM-UDF and ICN Peacekeepers rushed into the nations that used to make up the former United Empire, such things were discussed, though more behind closed doors and small remarks than serious discussion until recently.

"But will the Atareians agree to it? With the GDC gone, only us and their alliance remain, and sure, while we both worked together, there exists friction and some degree of tension as we fight for influence across the globe. With them fighting for a global free world in line with their ideologies and Atareian values of freedom, and us for a world opposed to such control and instead equal cooperation between all regardless of difference, conflict is bound to erupt." Protested another delegate.

"That is exactly why we must vote in favor of this resolution! Pre-empt the conflict and instead try to unite the world behind one common goal of advancement and the preservation and revival of that in which was and some that wasn't destroyed by the Strainists and the Cold War. We need to meet the Atareian bloc not as an opposing faction, but as allies willing to cooperate underneath a common banner and help prevent disaster. The fact the Strainists used their reactors to try to destroy the world instead of bombs is already destroying much of the work we've done in order to spread nuclear power and its benefits as fear of the doomsday clock being literal SECONDS away from midnight grips the people's minds!" Responded the man on the floor, he continues.

"We must approach them to agree to a treaty to start decommissioning the bombs and illegalize the creation of anymore, regardless if a nation has a nuclear program or not. I'm certain the Iserkians would approve of us doing this at least given the lingering holdouts of the test nearly a decade prior. Our Astreopan allies are months, if not potentially weeks or even days away from launching a joint-CPM moon mission, a Humitian is potentially about to land on the moon if it succeeds, we need to show them we're making moves such as that and eventual lunar bases and colonies not for our own power and control, but for global benefit! Done will be the days of ruining our planet's beauty with large mining and people going without the basic resources needed to live lives not up to standard for developed post-industrial countries. Heck, if the nuclear physicists are correct, there could be Helium-3 on the moon in large abundance, which could be a key component to us discovering Nuclear Fusion.

Just imagine it, space stations orbiting the Earth and Moon in different areas of orbit and at Lagrange points, satellites bringing in asteroids for us to harvest as lunar outposts and habitats litter its vast gray landscape. Ships reaching for the different planets being built and launching outwards towards their destinations to make us a truly interstellar species. Nuclear Fusion reactors powering entire countries by themselves as basic necessities such as water, electricity, food, and more become so easy to have that to be without is to do so on purpose as even the poorest will live lives of some comfort and luxury. A world of peace, but one in which we don't blindly let our guard down and instead we are all united in the will and purpose to defend each other from tyrannical interference and oppression. Many would call it utopia, and would call me a blind dreamer, a fool, a man who has no idea how anything in the real world works.

Well I do know how the real world works, and I believe that THAT world IS possible IF we try, IF we go out and create something new, IF we march out not as conquerors, but as scientists, explorers, engineers, leaders, and so much more. And I believe that all of this is possible in a few decades time so long as we try, so long as we do our best to make sure we succeed regardless of what stands in our way, and what would hold us back. You can't stop the tide or train of progress, only stall it at best, so why not ride it or hop aboard before it leaves us in the waters or dust?" Finished the representative. As he looked around, he could see some had doubts, but in many others, and in some of the doubters, a look ranging from cautious approval to full on fanatical support.

The vote that day, once the tide became clear and the possibility of a message being sent became certain, was unanimously in favor of global denuclearization in regards to the bombs and to extend an olive branch to the entire Atareian bloc, alongside an invitation to work together to make the world a better place for all.

"Prosperity"
1986
Mistotsaritsya/Kyivska City

"-Bastard!" Yuri shouted after the driver as the sedan swerved across the intersection. He turned back to the wheel, grumbling, and made a turn across the roundabout, passing by a bronze statue. Something dedicated to the Tsaritsa Stell- Sam- urgh, whatever she was called again. New skyscrapers rose up around him, displaying flashing signs in Kyivskan and Pavlaskoyan. Swarms of yellow-vested builders crawled across the remnants of an old United Imperial factory, bringing down the imposing brick facade with sledgehammers, the faint slogans of the Strainists still printed onto the wall in some sort of white paint that was impossible to clean up.

He smiled as he passed the waterfront, bursting with new restaurants and townhouses. The seafood place near Saint Peter's was open- maybe he would go there once he was done with work. He reached out a hand and switched on the radio, listening to the music before pulling into the parking lot of a skyscraper.

The office was bustling with anxious stockbrokers, fixated on the massive screens relaying the fluctuations of the stock market.
How nice, Yuri smirked and set his burger and fries to the side. They gave us even larger windows to jump out of when the market crashes. The Niagarans would be happy.
Among the rising towers of Kyivska City's downtown was an island of green. Surrounded by walls pockmarked with shell holes and damage from the Second Great War sat the Winter Palace, though its recognizable facade was covered in scaffolding. The half-complete shell of a stadium sat beside the palace, its sleek facade rising in a gentle curve.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!" Another group of interns were hunched over peering into a television waiting for the announcement of the Olympic host city.
"-And the host nation is Arcadisia!"
"F*CK!" Half a dozen voices groaned and cursed before the interns went back to their cubicles.

Kravinszi
"Hurry up! Hurry up! Opening day is in six hours!" Director Orlov's voice yelled, as the eighty-something year old geriatric rushed- or rather hobbled- across the room holding a box of tattered flags. "United Imperial equipment in gallery five! Great War relics in gallery six! Is the Slavik Vlason replica ready?"
Meanwhile, a team of museum workers were running around in panic as a painted wing slid across the floor. The replica of Kyivskan ace pilot Slavik Vlason's plane hung wobbling mid-air, suspended by cables.

The director walked in. The workers looked at him, then at the fallen wing. Then back at the old man, who began swelling with rage, adding to his not-very-impressive height.
"You little sh-"

Ministerial Office For Aerospace, Kravinszi
Sokolov shivered as he passed the wall of mirrors.
"This place gives me the creeps. To think that old Tsar Nikita used to stand around here and get up to his dictatorial activities.. Hey, now that I think of it, whatever happened to that ICN delegate of ours? She went missing and hasn't been seen since. It's been like... two years, right?"
His coworker grumbled. "Stop worrying about some random woman who probably lost her marbles a while ago and go deal with that space station issue. President Delov wants a space station in orbit by 1991, can you believe that?"

Sokolov sighed. "Maybe Delov should worry about rebuilding first-"
The Minister of Aerospace Affairs froze and turned towards one of the mirrors, and for a fleeting moment he thought he caught a glimpse of a third figure.

"-Hm?" His colleague turned. "What's wrong?"
Sokolov recomposed himself, sighing. "..Nothing. I just feel weird every time we go through this hallway, you know? Like there's someone else watching us."
"Probably the Tsar's soul trying to escape from hell," his colleague quipped. "Just loosen up a bit, would you? The old fart's been dead for two years now."

"I suppose you're right."

1988
Kravinszi
From the ruins of the old United Imperial garrison quarters rose a white obelisk, etched with golden writing that glimmered in the sunlight. Thirty-five feet wide on all sides, its tapered point rose up towards the sky, as person after person stepped forward and began etching names into its base, which was filled with fresh-poured concrete.

Cardinal Anatoly Miklanovich stepped aside as a woman left the pedestal with the initials I.S carved into the base, and stepped forward with a chisel, remembering the words that had been said to him almost six years prior.

He reached forward, brushing the piles of flowers that had been leaned against the monument, and bit by bit carved out two letters in the concrete.
A.M

Miklanovich smiled and straightened up, every joint in his ancient body protesting. He remembered the hastily-written note with instructions that he had been left. Before, of course, what had happened happened.
"Well, if I never get buried make sure to, I don't know, spray-paint my initials onto the nearest dead United Imperial, or carve them into an obelisk. That way I'll hang around for a few more years..."

The sky was cloudless, the Atariean fast-food joint across the street was packed full of hungry salarymen, the skyscrapers of Kravinszi sparkled, and those in line at the memorial silently parted in respect as Miklanovich made his exit, stepping into the back of a black coupe, its former Vranastrovan Papal markings dulled with wear and tear.

[The End]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3KEhWTnWvE

Uncalled Advancement and Bygone Era

Jayden Willingwood sat at the edge of the pier. His officer’s uniform, bearing two stars on his epaulettes, was crisp and clean and felt cold to his skin. He heard footsteps behind him. A Royal Guard soldier saluted Jayden, “He’s here for you sir.” Jayden nodded as he drew another breath from his cigarette before throwing it into the water.

The stillness of the morning was broken when a helicopter thundered overhead on approach to landing. Jayden sighed as he followed the Royal Guard officer back inside the complex. The Resolution Air Force Base was one of the largest Air Force bases in the country. Second only to the Command Base on the mainland. Resolution Island was also home to top-secret development facilities for all four branches of the armed forces.

The location of the island was well known. However, the Air Force operated constant patrols and surveillance of the surrounding area to ensure no one is listening or seeing the projects that are happening within. Most of the time, that involved chasing away fishing boats and other vessels that strayed too near. Very rarely are snoopers or conspiracy theorists caught.

Jayden walked along the edge of the airfield. Helicopters, fighters and transports were parked in neat rows. Pilots, engineers and technicians rushed around prepping the next round of aircraft for takeoff. Resolution Island had a large mountain at its centre that towered above the rest of the base. At the foot of the mountain was the main entrance building which flew flags of Iserk and the Air Force.

The building was mostly built into the mountain with sleeping quarters and general offices higher up the mountain with the more essential components, including the command centre and development facilities built deep into the mountain. Jayden passed through several checks before entering the lift that would take him down to the deeper levels.

Two Royal Guards patted him down, scanned him and got into the lift with him. The whole facility was crawling with security, including Royal Guard and the Air Force’s security units. They shook and shot down into the lower levels. For security measures, there was a 500-metre gap between the lowest floor on the upper levels and the highest floor on the lower levels.

The doors slid open and Jayden stepped into another security room. Three Air Force guards checked him over once more before he slid his ID into the scanner. The triple-locked door opened into an empty but clean corridor. Different arrows and numbers are pointed off in different directions.

He turned and walked further into the maze. Jayden eventually arrived at a door labelled with a large yellow ‘4’. Jayden scanned his ID once more and the door opened into a large, sprawling hanger. The hanger was spacious and filled with spare aircraft and the secret development projects that were currently underway.

There were even more Royal Guards and security waiting with metal detectors and dogs. Jayden patted one as he walked past the wall of troops. The hanger had a high roof and was the most expensive part of the project. Nearly 4 million tonnes of rock and dirt were moved away and cleared to make room for mechanisms similar to that on aircraft carriers, only much larger. The roof of the hanger was the ground of the airfield. Marked with yellow stripes to ensure no personnel would accidentally walk across it while a test was underway.

Pistons and levers pushed the aircraft upwards while the ground above slid away. The only way this was possible was because the ground was metal coated with a thin layer of concrete. It was in this hanger where the U2 was first tested. Now the next generation of planes was being developed. The current generation of fighters widely used by the ATO and other countries were capable and advanced, the next generation of fighters stressed other factors concerning the constantly changing path of war.

Jayden approached the team of engineers and technicians working on the landing gears of a fighter. The plane was jet black, with diamond-shaped wings angling slightly back from the fuselage. The vertical stabilizers weren’t perpendicular like most of the previous generation fighters but rather angled outwards from the empennage.

Right next to the sleek new aircraft was one of the prominent fighters of the Iserkian Air Force. The Allied Industries FB-15 was a multi-role fighter that had seen action during the invasion of Meinland and Passingon. Though Jayden was no scientist or engineer, he could tell the new fighter, nicknamed the X-1, was based on the revered fighter. The main difference between the two aircraft was the X-1 had no visible weapons on its exterior.

The chief engineer of the project, Ben Richthofen, turned to face Jayden. “General, the plane was assembled this morning, it's ready for flight now.” Jayden nodded, “Where’s the pilot?”

“Inside the aircraft,” Ben said. Jayden looked at the cockpit, it was blacked out. “Are we ready for flight?” Ben nodded, “Just waiting for your order.”

Jayden watched as the two aircraft lined up at the runway, one of them was the FB-15 while the other was the top secret X-1. Already, helicopters, vessels and surveillance had been amped up to ensure no one was peeking at what was going on. The ATC tower gave the order to go ahead as the two pilots pushed their engines to the max.

The aircraft jumped forward and took off halfway down the runway. Already, the X-1 was at least 50 feet ahead. The two aircraft rotated and flipped as the pilots showcased their skills and the fighter’s abilities. Ben was watching beside Jayden, “Watch this.” He said excitedly as he watched his masterpiece at work.

The two planes fell into line, with the FB-15 giving chase to the X-1. The two aircraft twisted like snakes to try to shake each other off. Eventually, both broke the sound barrier as they passed overhead now at an altitude of 15,000 feet. Then, the X-1 rapidly slowed down and twisted out of the way leaving the FB-15 pilot confused. The X-1 then twisted again and revealed its missiles hidden in the wing. Even with the missiles out, the X-1 could fly much faster and still maneuver at the speed of sound. A red light beeped on the control panels, indicating that had the X-1 pilot launched the missiles they would have hit the FB-15 blowing it out of the sky.

The two planes landed with the X-1 returning into the hidden hanger, while the FB-15 went back into a parking spot. Ben and his team were shaking each other's hands and patting their backs and hugging each other. Jayden simply stared at the X-1 as it went back below ground. He then turned his attention back to the FB-15, the only Iserkian aircraft to have never been lost in combat.

He smashed the control panel angrily stunning everyone in the room before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

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