Family, House, Neighbor.

[Myroria]

Diamondéheart, County Ivorheart, Myroria
Governor's Hall



"Sister Emeraldea, sit down. Sit down. We have much to discuss."

"Emeraldea? Why the formality?"

Meneldur sat at his desk, facing his sister. He took a small ring box out of his desk.

"Emma, our brother worries me. He has betrayed the first and second codes of our house. Today, an advisor told me Ælar has officially dropped out of Great House Quarrovth. Not to become an Underling or Clerk of Great House Hanso, but instead, to betray us further. Not long after leaving Quarrovth, he applied to be a Comrade of Great House Vrotrith. I don't know what crap that commie is spreading, but its permeated every level of our society, even, now, our Imperial Family. Father has taken Ælar's Princeps Ring, which is what is in this box. For the first time in Myrorian history, I will be changing my heir."

"You barely of age to be the Queen, Emma, only 16. But clearly even a 16 year old makes better decisions than the communist that now is related to us. Until my son or daughter becomes 15, Emma, you are now the Crown Princess of Myroria. To ensure this traitor to our house never becomes King of Myroria, I have made Mother third in line, Mattir fourth in line, and Grandfather fifth in line. Now, my sister. Take this ring from the hand of the Empeurer, and ensure our bloodline does not become tainted with communist swine-blood."


Ælar looked at the motto on the grey, plain building that was the Vrotrith Bureau. It was the obligatory "Workers of the world, unite!". His deranged brother would call it "going into a day of brainwashing", but he called it "learning from the alternate House". Ever since he read that pamphlet when he was a teenager, handed to him as he ran back to the Grand Imperial Residence from a quick trip for Father, he was engaged. Driving to the libraries, reading great works, learning "the truth". You needed to be 18 to join a Great House, unless you were the child of a Councilman, Archcouncilman, or the Archmaster. So one week after his 18th birthday, he was a Comrade in Great House Vrotrith. And House War might just be triggered.

[Myroria]

"No, I will not accept this nomination! You will not rearrange the whole line of succession so that you can stop a pseudo-socialist from leading the country!"

"Grandfather, Ælar is a threat to Myrorian monarchy. There's a reason our monarchy has survived for 250 years without becoming a pacified, democracy-in-a-king's-cloak."

"Whatever happened to the code of Quarrovth? 'Family, House, Neighbor'? You are betraying the first one!"

"I'm doing what's best for the country, Grandfather."

"What's best for the country? What's best for the Great Houses, not the halt of a temporary communist, is what's best for this country. Emeraldea is neither of age or correct sex to become a correct leader of Myroria."

"Emma, though only 16, is more than capable of running this nation in favor of Ælar."

"I'm discussing this with the Council. Are you prepared to be expelled for these actions?"

"No, Grandfather, don't."

"Restore Ælar as Crown Prince."

Meneldur sat back down, glaring. After a minute of no speech from the Empeurer, Karl Quarrovth left.

[Myroria]

Millie Austen, a French Myrorian in northwestern Myroria, jingled her keys as she unlocked a door to a house on the far side of Blagthenburgh. Seemingly coming out of the shadows, a man approached her. These men certainly weren't above helping spread the rumour of their "supernatural powers", even if they had none.

"Good. I thought you wouldn't show."

"I represent a noble of Great House Quarrovth. We are willing to pay for your services."

"My...service, if you will, has been available for hundreds of years. We engage 'House War' for you, so we don't disrupt or disturb the public peace. People say Myroria is one of the most stable, unwilling to revolt countries in the world. But every couple years, things the uneducated would call 'civil war' occurs between the noble Great Houses. We execute nobles honorably when they don't understand the warning signs from the other Houses. They die serving their House and Myroria, and not a single innocent is harmed. But keep in mind we serve any side. Your employer could die by my hand in a week, or less. That being said...are you willing to pay a price greater than some Kolonialreich marks?"

The thud of 10,000 Kolonialreich marks landed on the table.

"Erwin Vrotrith, Rolf's brother. He's back from his home in Gallipoli Xyrael. Kill him, as a warning to what these runaway teenagers are getting themselves into if they mix themselves up with the communists."

"Good, 10,000 fat ones. Hey, I heard the Crown Prince joined Vrotrith, and now Emeraldea is the Crown Princess - "

He was cut off by the shutting of a door. Quarrovth nobles weren't exactly proud of Ælar.

[Emperor Heindrick]

[I can really see the Morrowind references here. I could tell without reading "Morrowind Player".]

Empeuer Meneldur,

 I have heard of your succession dilemma. I can assure you my daughter, your wife will produce for you a legitimate male heir to inherit your throne. Your brother will pale in comparison to this true heir. Christstan is prepared to back you and your wife in any succession actions that would assure our Princess's and your imperial progeny the throne of Myoria. As my Son-in-law, you will have my blessings and protections. I am unfamiliar with the politics of your land and so can only give you my promises of economic and military support. What weight that might hold politically in your nation, is unknown to me.

Signed,
Emperor Heindrick XI von Weiger, By Grace of God, Emperor of Christstan (etc.)

[Myroria]

[That's the idea. :p]

The Myrorian people called them "The Underground". They didn't like this. They found it cliched, movie-like. In the movies, the men survived the hitmen and got the girl, and everyone walked out of the movie entertained.

But "The Underground" was not entertaining. Especially when they awoke you in the middle of the night.

The unnamed hitman picked the lock on Erwin's house. It was in a quiet part of the town, where the prefecture rarely patrolled. In a few minutes, he was in. He took an old trick that certain clever pirates did. Moving an eyepatch off of one eye onto another, he could see better in the dark. Surprising, really, how well this movie legend worked. Climbing the stairs, he jiggled the door into Erwin's bedroom. Opening the door outward, he stepped in. But he didn't look down. Erwin's cat got hit by the assassin's foot. Meowing in aggravation, it slinked away, but not before the assassin tripped. By the time he regained his footing, the years of training he had had gone to waste. The awoken Erwin already put a bullet through his head.


"I don't know who you angered, brother, but you'd better get some friends. Or write a will. Or both. Your best bet is to flee back home to Gallipoli Xyrael. I think a House War has started."

"I was hoping you'd suggest to flee." Erwin said to Rolf nervously.

"Vrotrith doesn't need to buy the service of hitmen. With most Vrotrith members blacklisted, we've been forced to provide our own services to each other, which includes a militia, if you will, of these assassins. And we're not afraid of running through the streets, starting revolutions. Quarrovth and Hanso may follow the ancient House War code, but in this modern era, the freedom of the workers may mean violence. But I get ahead of myself. Grab your luggage, get on the next plane. You'll want to be as far as possible from this place."

[Myroria]

"Vrotrith lives," said Millie Austen inside the same house she had been in 8 days before.

"I thought you were the best there is? You realize this gives House Vrotrith the hands up in this House War, don't you?"

"Miss Austen, we are deeply sorry. But our policy states that if the assassination does not succeed, we will stop trying and refund your money."

"You talk about your service like it's a business." said Austen, putting the 10,000 back in her handbag.

"It is a legitimate business. No less of an organization then the Ozian mafia or American gangs. But we are more honorable criminals, from a more civilized age."

"Right." Austen said, leaving.


Mattir dropped his pen as a loud bang came up from downstairs in the Council Manor. Somebody must have dropped a book. But now there was yelling. Listening for 2 or 3 seconds, the 12 year-old got up from his tutor's class, who was by now also intrigued. Running down the stairs into the foyer, there were security guards running around as men dressed in olive drab, wearing rudimentary disguises in the form of bandanas "shot it up" with them.

"Get upstairs your majesty!" yelled the tutor, grabbing a pistol from a dead guard. After a couple minutes of terror, the shooting was over. The Manor security had won not a victory against a lone assassin, but a gang, of revolutionaries. Vrotrith took their chance. A House War, its predecessors having resulted in the deaths of 50, at the most, had turned into a communist revolution.

[Myroria]

"So I said to Binh, 'Where's the money in that?'" The doors to the Archmaster's office opened.

"Oh. Factor Oswiecim, if you'll excuse me. The King and I have an appointment together."

As Hanso's second in command ducked out of the room, the King began.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Your Majesty..." Hanso said with a smirk.

"My skin's crawling just being in this Oxy-infested rathole, Alvar. Let's make this quick."

"Please, let's."

"Alvar, I don't know if you know, but Diamondéheart's been lost to Great House Vrotrith. Governor's Hall is now the base of 'The Politbureau of the Socialist Republic of Myroria'. If we don't stop this in its tracks, we may have another Belsenist regime on our hands."

"So? What are you telling me for? As long as Hansonia remains absent from world maps, we'll continue to exist."

"I know you're not familiar with politics, CEO, but Roosdan Vyarden's constitution says that, to limit the absolute power of the Empeurer to do whatever he pleases, that any military officer that belongs to another Great House needs to be agreed on by the Great House that possesses said officer to serve, unless Myroria is in a war against a foreign power and is under immediate threat."

"So, who do you want?"

"Marschall Hupprecht Patrick. He's experienced in cold weather from his trip to the North Pole, and he'll serve well in toppling the secessionist movement."

"What's in it for me?"

"Do you want money, Hanso? Don't you have enough?"

"Well, you're not gonna get you're approval rate in the 90s by averting civil war if it's my Marschall. But give me, say, 250,000 Kolonialreich marks out of Quarrovth's treasury, and I'll keep my mouth shut. It's a rule that Quarrovth's obscenely rich anyway."

"Fine, if you want 250 grand to protect your home country - which you should gladly do for free - I'll give you 250 grand."

"That's more like it."

[Myroria]

It was a cloudy day, nearly silent, though the Myrorian Imperial Army's boots clacked on the asphault of the road leading into Diamondéheart. The visored helmets, decked out with earpieces, impeded the travelling of the confirmation of orders. The faceless, hardened, trained Myrorian Imperial Army would crush the Politbureau and end this revolution before it starts. The white trenchcoats they wore were padded with faux fur on the inside, opting for maximum warmth in the cold weather of Northern Myroria.

Meanwhile, the olive-colored uniforms of the "Socialist Republic of Myroria", were the complete opposite: A tucked in, olive drab shirt with equally drab trousers and brown boots. Nothing fancy, as Vrotrith had envisioned. No fancy equipment: the coffers of Great House Vrotrith could not afford such a luxury. All they had were their canteens of alcohol, and their guns. Fall was already here, but it was not intensely cold. The soldiers could still fight, albeit with a small runny nose.


The soldiers could see the toll booths-cum-border stations ahead. But soon their line of sight would be rocked. An RPG just blew up one of the ULTRA APs scattered among the forces.

"Up there! On the hill!"

The remaining men fired off their RPGs as the soldiers shot at them. Two were down: Myrorian Imperial Army soldiers were notoriously good shots. The third was down beyond the crest of the hill.

"Get ready..." said Hupprecht through the radiosets, from his vantage point in an ULTRA AP behind the group. From his angle, he could see the man running back up the hill, reloaded and ready to rejoin the battle.

"Give 'em Hell!" Guns roared to life as the man was cut down, his ammunition flying off course and hitting a tree.

[Myroria]

"Comrade Hercule! Comrade Xavier!" The socialists had taken on French names, much as the Royalists did during the Belsenists. They too, felt they were fighting to bring down an oppresive government.

"What is it?" said Hercule.

"The capitalists draw nearer. The group you sent has been obliterated. I lost radio contact."

Hercule, Xavier, and all the men on the Politbureau looked at the marble floor, still emblazoned with the crimson and purpure shield of the Tar-Ilium family. If they didn't leave - now, they'd be executed for treason. A vote was taken. Of the 33 people on the Politbureau, 30 wanted to leave. The Royalists would call it cowardice. The Socialists called it intelligence. Piling into discreet, unmarked cars, the Politbureau left. They could see the Sturmmann moving in to look at the damage they caused and clear out the buildings they left snipers in. Their soldiers would gradually retreat, entering the APCs outside the city and making their escape, hopefully not decimated.


Hupprecht Patrick looked through his binoculars. Then, he looked at the missile truck that was prepared to fire. The aim was right, the missile would cause minimal damage to surrounding buildings, and, though civilian casualties would be inevitable, it would be kept at a virtual minimum at this time of day.

"Ready..." smoke billowed from the end of the missile.

"FIRE!" A few seconds later, the border station was gone. Scouts revealed that the area was all clear, as the Socialists apparently moved in to protect the Politbureau.

One soldier, with two medics - wearing the exact same uniform, simply with a large red cross in on the breast - looked through the rubble. The soldier stumbled over a body lying in the mud. The medics readied their stretcher, and the body was pushed haphazardly onto it. But something fell off the body, and it was only customary to collect a civilian's belongings when not under immediate fire. The soldier picked up the amulet and ran to the medics. Glancing at the body, then taking a double take, he looked at the face again. There, staring at him in a deathly gaze, was the face of Ælar Tar-Ilium.

[Myroria]

"Turns out it was just some guy who looked like the Prince. But you can bet he's got hell to pay, I hear Hupprecht found him while he was with a patrol in a back alley. Cowering behind a dumpster, scared from the missiles flying. He's nothing like his brothers, even Mattir just hit the ground when the Council Manor was attacked." An officer, talking to another, flipped over a chair in the Politbureau.

"No one's here. They escaped. The cowards."

"Look at this place, ubermajor, it's wrecked."

The Ubermajor nodded in agreement to his comrade of the same rank before putting his hand on the side of his helmet. After a few seconds and "Yeah"s, he moved his hand down.

"Toll booth, 20 kilos from here. An APC and some cars passed through, he was checking to see if they're ours. They're not. Get Hupprecht, we need to reinforce the town guard in Sapphirith, that's probably where they're heading."


Hupprecht, his characteristic goateed face visible behind an open visor, pushed away a Myrorian flag draped in front of an alley. He climbed into his black ULTRA AP.

"Men, once we get onto the highway, arrange the convoy as best you can so that the slower vehicles - APCs, the two tanks we have - are at the back of the pack. We need to catch up to or pass the commies before they take another town. Our gunships will be flying into Sapphirith - they're probably heading there, and if they're not, we'll be able to stop them before they get further. I've had the highway closed so we can get through easier." the commander yelled into the headset.

"Move out!"

[Myroria]

There was no one else on the road. Only when you were alone, being chased by the mighty gunships of the Myrorian Armed Forces, did you realize how silent the Autobahn could be. Silence was relative. The Autobahn was as loud as ever, the rhythmic bang, bang, bang of Rolf Vrotrith's comrades shooting in vain at the looming gunships with pistols, rifles, whatever they could aim in a speeding car. The roar of an engine being pushed beyond its limits. The creaking of a metal frame becoming ever so much more dangerous with each rev.

Great House Vrotrith was the second organization in Myrorian history to ever lead an insurrection and actually take a city. And though Vrotrith would still exist after this was all over - it would be illegal for it to be banned - the gambit hadn't paid off. Workers still poured into their offices and mills, women were still getting abortions, every Myrorian house still had a small cross on the mantle, and, perhaps most importantly, there was still an Empeureur. Now this organization, once the single place where angst-filled teenagers and intellectuals could meet and be equal, was reduced to nothing more than a high-speed chase. Every burst of machine gun fire from the gunships would send the occassional car off the road, killing or injuring high-ranking members of Great House Vrotith each time.

Machine gun rounds struck the asphault in front of the black car at the front of the pack. Pieces of the road went flying into the windshield of the car. The driver suffered a concussion and blacked out. Next thing you knew, the car plowed through a guardrail and was in a ditch. Rolf Vrotrith was dead.

"Rolf? ROLF?" called a man in an APC, screaming into his outdated radio. There was only static.

"Rolf's dead!" the man yelled to the other soldiers in his APC. The driver heard.

"What?" The APC began to slow.

"Keep goin'! Keep goin'!"

The convoy turned onto two exits, leading into the countryside.

"Dirt roads? You're cleared to use all force neccessary. Shoot your missiles, your guns, whatever you need to get them to surrender or to destroy them." said Marschall Patrick through his radio to the gunships.

Almost as soon as the transmission was finished, a roar came from the sides of the gunships, followed by several explosions in quick succession. The APCs had all been destroyed. The Politbureau had a choice: Die, or surrender.

[Myroria]

The judge cleaned his glasses on his robe before taking a piece of paper from the hand of the juror.

"Will the defendants please stand up?"

The thirteen surviving members of the Politbureau, along with their lawyer stood up.

"You have been charged with treason against the Myrorian government, and the jury has decided.

Sigmund Marzell, Sascha Gottlieb, Rainer Dirk, Emanuel Hieronymus, Sjaak Rochus, Bruno Lourenço, Ezequiel Teodósio, you have been found guilty of treason. You have been sentenced to death by nitrogen asphyxiation.

Melanie Abigail, Nina Ruth, Noele Solange, Béatrice Cornélie, Jeanine Avril, Florette Evette, you have been found guilty of treason. You will spend the rest of your lives in Sapphirith Imperial Penitentiary, without the chance of parole."

The court erupted in cheers interspersed with gasps, as the condemned were led out and split. One side to the jail to be executed by nitrogen asphyxiation, and one side to be led to a bus, spared only because they were women.


The next day Meneldur called a press conference, as Erwin Vrotrith was arriving in Myroria, now the leader of Great House Vrotrith.

"Yesterday, as I'm sure the press caught on tape, the men and women comprising the so-called Politbureau, of the supposedly legitimate 'Socialst Republic of Myroria', were sentenced. This marks a new chapter in Myrorian history - one capable of becoming another Belsenist regime, but protected by the men in the Northern Front, sacrificing all to save their country. The honor and credit doesn't belong to myself, the Imperial Family, or the Great Houses, but to them."

"Now new enemies threaten Pax Imperium and our allies. The 'peaceful' [Meneldur made sure to say this with great sarcasm] regime in the Democratic States of America have invaded our allies, Canada. I hope that all Myrorians cheer the brave Canadians, and support their troops, as we celebrate our victory. Good night, and godspeed to all."