The Éire Crisis

[Prydania]

"I already confessed, just get this over with and shot me! AGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

"It doesn't work like that" a Major-General simply known as Ashton, responded, as the dial on the rack Collins was strapped to was turned up a notch.
"We are not in the business of making martyrs. It's not enough to be guilty, but to truly feel sorry for being guilty. Not sorry because of the consequences you will face, but sorry for your lack of loyalty to the Commonwealth.
As long as your mind still harbours the insane belief that what you did was right, you will remain here. So long as the heretic is still a heretic we do not shot him. It is because he is a heretic that he will continue to live, here, under our watch. Only when he repents, and is truly sorry for his crimes against the state, only then will he know forgiveness and relief."

Ashton nodded to a doctor who put Collins under with sleeping gas again.

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Office of the Lord Protector
Crofts looked across his desk at Consul Erik Destler of Foreign Affairs, and Consul Mark Anderson of War.
The Lord Protector picked up a transcript of Eluvatar's demands, reading it over.
"They're full of shit" he said, tossing the letter back to his desk.
"Eluvatar won't attack unless America attacks, and Frémont's to much a slave to public opinion polls to declare war."
"There is the possibly that Myroria or Gaulasia might join Eluvatar's call to arms" Destler informed Crofts.

"Consul Anderson, what type of military threat does Gaulasia pose to us?" Crofts asked his Consul of War.
"Minuscule at best" Anderson replied. "The Gaulasian military is to small and outdated in technological terms. We could push them into the sea if we wanted to."
"And Myroria?"
"The combined strength of Myroria and Eluvatar is the real threat here" Anderson answered.

"Even though" Destler injected, "Myroria has yet to make an official statement, the ties between Myrorian and Eluvatarian royalty would surly draw Myroria into any war Eluvatar decides to wage....especially considering you beheaded the second cousin of Fredrika I's first husband."

"Anderson" Crofts ordered, "I want you to put the military on high alert. I'll have Consul Wilkiek get out the message that the Commonwealth is under siege.
Destler, don't respond to the Eluvatarian resolution just yet. Lets see what Frémont and Peté do."

[Democratic States of America]

Mister President.

The Royal Confederacy of Eluvatar is most disturbed by the genocidal activities taking place in Éire. We will not stand back and watch. If we, upon refusal of the Inglo-Scotians to cooperate, begin military action, can we expect assistance from the Democratic States?

In the very least we would hope for the ability to base our ships out of your ports. We hold hope however that the Democratic States have the will to support us more strongly in such an event.

I Presiding Steward Beregond ArFinn do declare this official correspondence of the Royal Confederacy of Eluvatar by the power granted to me in the Absence of the King, soon may he return.

Frémont read over the transmission again. He had spent all night reading and re-reading it. What it was suggesting was a path he hadn't initially planned to pursue. 
The door opened, allowing a wisk of fresh air into the oval office, as Paul Rae stepped inside.
"Is this worth going to war over?" Frémont asked, half to himself.
"I don't know Elliot" Rae responded.
"The people elected you to make that call, not me."

"All I did was ask for an international coalition for an investigation. This, this is suggesting war."
"A war we can win though" Rae replied quickly. "Myroria would more then likely join in, and the three of us can defeat Crofts. Especially if we get Gaulasia to join in. They would require Crofts to keep at least some of his army on his eastern border."

"You seem sure" Frémont responded, exhausted. "If we were to engage in a war like that then we would be the invaders. Crofts would have the tactical advantage, as well as the ability to drag the war on longer then the American people will tolerate it. Besides, I'm sure that liquored-up wind bag Frasier Pershing would hinder troop levels from the southern states."

"You're probably right about that" Rae said. "He's already moving for southerners to do everything they can to get around your sanctions on Inglo-Scotia. It's rumoured he'll have Erik Destler as a guest on his via satellite."

Suddenly the conversation was broken by the ringing of the phone.

"President Frémont" the president answered.
After a brief discussion of maybe thirty seconds in length, the president hung up the phone.

"Paul" he said, his spirits lifted, our prayers have been answered.

[Prydania]

Collins sat in the dentist-like chair, slumped down, barley awake, a signal bright light encompassing his field of vision. 
For the past three days he had been removed from Ashton's watch. He had gone before small three-man committees for the past three days. These committees were made up of the intellectual wing of the Major-General organization. 
They questioned him, sometimes for as long as 20 hours straight.
They didn't question him about his crime, the police and military had completed investigations that provided all the useful information on that.
They questioned him on an ideological level. The basis for an independent Éire, his opposition to the Commonwealth's founding principals, was he ever a member of the Communist party? If he opposed the Commonwealth was he a supporter of the old Empire?
At every turn in these discussions they would lay traps for him, lead him along, only to somehow prove all of his basic beliefs wrong. By the end of the three days he had been reduced to a sobbing mess; he signed off to whatever they put in front of him.
He signed off on secretly supporting the old Empire in Éire. He signed off on having diverted ÉRA funds to the Communist Party. He signed off on the murder of a series of high-ranking government officials.
It didn't matter if they were true confessions or not, that didn't matter, they decided what was truth.

Now he was there, in that chair, faced with a bright light. Agent Ashton came up along side him,
"David, are you sorry?"
"Yesss" Collins weeped, his mind reduced to ashes, the ability to think straight literally hurt.
"Please" he continued, sobbing, "please, kill me, before I even think about betraying the Commonwealth again!"
"In time David" Ashton continued.
"Your judgement will come soon enough."

[Ranholn]

From:Linia Caesar, Imortal Imperia
To: Croft

I request you look into your heart and stop your brutal campaigns and bring peace talks with the people who are trying for freedom. What are you goals by this, to force people with no love for you to follow you. It will never truly end, you will crush them once but they will rise up again. If you do not end this with peace and negotiation it will never end. I call to your humanity.

ooc: this was not sent by Currier, I never use human message carriers for government stuff.

[Prydania]

Trial of David Collins, nationally and internationally televised
"I supported Tory Unionist bombings of key Commonwealth facilities in Éire. I mislead the Éiren people. I preached independence to them when my ultimate goal was their subjugation under the return of the Empire.
I lead them astray from the freedoms of this Commonwealth so I could gain personal advancement in restored Imperial regime.
I funded the Communist party of Inglo-Scotia for the sole purpose of watching Commonwealth buildings and citizens crumble and die.
I directly or indirectly took part in the killing of several high-ranking government officials.
I was sexually aroused by the thought of the Commonwealth's destruction and the death of our revolutionary leader, Lord Protector Steven Crofts.
I was, and still am, sick in body and mind. I make no excuses for my actions or lack of faith in the Commonwealth's present and future, and only ask that I be put to death now, so that my life can end with my mind pure."
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Following the trial, two soldiers lead Collins out to the back of the Revolutionary Courthouse, where the black brick of the lower story was stained slightly red in some areas.   
He stood facing the wall, his will to live snuffed out back at the Major-General detainment centre.
The sounds of the guns firing was muffled by the sound of a wheat supply train passing by.
As the soldiers in the firing squad returned to their normal detachments, two more soldiers came over, stuffing the body in a black sack and carrying it away. The two remaining men began scrubbing the fresh blood away.

[Zimmerwald]

Feng had gained this disposable cell phone as part of a gift basket from some random family in Xanadu.  He had eaten the fruit, used up the stationary, but hadn't bothered to do anything with the phone.  He'd had a proper cell phone for some time now, and as its reception and sound quality were far better than anything disposable, he had just put the disposable one aside and forgotten about it.

As he viewed Collins' trial, it became more and more obvious that it was a sham.  Feng knew his business, and had tracked his money, and knew Collins wasn't giving to any Communist groups.  Feng would have been happy if he was, but dispite his subtle urging, Collins had never done so.  Of the other confessions, Feng knew nothing, but if one was false, the others might be false also.

After digging through a pile of papers, he finally managed to find the disposable phone.  He flipped it open, and dialled.  Making his voice more gutteral than it really was, he intoned the following message into the answering machine.  He decided to gamble, hoping such a strategy would produce results.

"Stephan, you are a fool to think you can lie to people like this and get away with it.  I know everything.  I know you tortured Collins to produce false confessions, I know that trial was a sham, I know that you are a dangerous tyrant that must be disposed of.  And I will spare no effort to dispose of you, as you have spared no effort to deprive my people of a great patriot.  You will not hear from me again.  You will see me once, then never again.  Goodbye."

He quietly broke the phone in half, and shoved it unceremoneously into the hotel's incinerator.

[Myroria-Hanso Corporation]

"I was sexually aroused by the thought of the Commonwealth's destruction and the death of our revolutionary leader, Lord Protector Steven Crofts."

"So was I." said Fredrika, switching the channel.

"Wait. Put it back there, hon."

"But Peté, The Old and the Restful is on!"

Peté just looked at Fredrika. She reluctantly switched it back to the trial.

"I was, and still am, sick in body and mind. I make no excuses for my actions or lack of faith in the Commonwealth's present and future, and only ask that I be put to death now, so that my life can end with my mind pure."

"Oh yes, it certainly is funny that every political enemy in Inglo-Scotia asks to be put to death, but torture is never used there. Certainly, Inglo-Scotians must be very moral." Fredrika remarked.

"Where's the phone?"

Fredrika took the antique phone off the end table and placed it in the middle of the couch. Peté picked it up and, after asking his butler for the phone number, dialed the office of Stephen Crofts.

[Prydania]

Council of State meeting, Parliament
The tape recorder clicked off as Peté I of Myroria's message ended. The eyes of all the consuls, as well as the Lord Protector started at the recorder, set down in the centre of the board table. All though their eyes were still very much concentrated, everyone eagerly awaited for someone to speak up.

"That fucking patty twit detonates a dirty bomb in our capital city's most populated neighbourhood, and not one nation offers assistance" Crofts said calmly, but angrily.
"The best we get is Frasier Pershing's condolences, but as much as we would like it, he doesn't have an independent Dixie, so it's an empty gesture.
Then we shoot the bastard who bombed us in the first place, like any half-sane state would do, and the fucking monarchists and commies send me this load of bullocks" he finished angrily. 

"Perhaps they're angry about the camps we're re-locating the Éirens to" Timothy Fairfax, the new Consul of Security, said.
"They don't have any proof the camps exist. Their best piece of evidence is that news story the frogs ran a week ago, it's all circumstantial" Crofts responded. 
"Regardless" Fairfax continued, "We should take these threats seriously."
"My fellow Consul's right" Mark Anderson, Consul of War, responded.
"Myroria, if they do anything, will opt for military action, which has the high possibility of bringing in the Eluvatarians and the Americans. A war we can handle. We have a large, well armed and trained military. We would be playing the defencive, so we hold that advantage. Still, one-on-three are never good odds."

"The Gallipoli-Chinese" Fairfax interjected, "would probably opt for an assassination attempt. Their Marxist ideology is enough to keep the Myrorians, Eluvatarians, and Americans at bay. They would be all alone, and they wouldn't attempt an attack on us alone. Also, judging by the nature of the Chinese message, an assassination seems likely. Simply speaking sir, I think we should move you and your family to the Victory Chamber under the tower, until this dies down. We would have armed Major-Generals* guarding you 24/7."

"As Deputy Chairman of the Council of State" Erik Destler, Consul of Foreign Affairs, said, "I would take over the symbolic role of opening and closing Parliament, as well as some of your more public roles until it's safer again."

Crofts sank back into his chair. Suddenly he stood up.
"Have my wife and daughter meet me in the bunker" he said, leaving the room, followed by an accompaniment of four armed Major-Generals*.

OOC:
*Just for the sake of clearing the Major-Generals up. They are not a military rank. The Major-Generals are the name for the Commonwealth's secret police. They're like the SS, Gestapo, and FBI rolled into one. They guard high ranking government officials, they act as the secret police arresting and torturing "enemies of the state," and they conduct police investigations that fall on the national level.

[Myroria]

Stephen Crofts,

I believe the time to stand back and get fed your story has passed. I demand my observers be allowed into Eire or we may intervene on their behalf.

Peté Tar-Ilium.

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: I'm going to IGNORE that comment about Marxist ideology.  The State itself is bourgeois, and the government is still a parliamentary republic.  And you can't be referring to the Democratic Socialist Party, because you have no proof that a member sent the message.

IC: Unlike the last wave of posters, everybody knew these were from the DSP's propaganda machine.  They showed a small, white, man on the balcony of a white tower, surrounded by white guards holding white guns.  The tower was surmounted by a crown.  In the background were masses of grey individuals, looking downtrodden, and in the foreground, a few red fists obscured the faces of some of the guards.  The caption read "Stephen Crofts knows he has to hide from his people."

Lin had been busy.  She knew Feng had forged ties with the Eireans, and, much as she detested the deception of the dues-paying membership, she knew she could benefit by identifying Crofts with the Liberals and Nationalists,and the DSP with the Eireans.  This, with the "Bustian Freedom" posters, were the core of what she would call her "foreign policy series."

[Bustos]

In the Office of External Affairs

External Affairs Director Jean Raneau under direct orders from the Chairperson has handed over his Assistant Director the daily operations of the Office.  Freeing his time to focus on developing a new section of the Office for intelligence gathering.  The one main problem, of course, was not getting caught doing so.  Freelance agents have been subcontracted in the past but only for low priority missions.  Then there were the Ghosts.

Ghosts never failed a single mission however their programming only allowed for short term missions at best.  Once completed they returned home for debriefing and reassignment.  Not to mention the life expectancy of Ghosts were relatively short.  Very few ever lived past 27 years old.  How old is Kallisti now he wondered.  He needed to devise a long term, self sustaining agency, separate from the Bustian government.

It would need several methods of income, a base of operations, experience and skills to infiltrate foreign nations, and most importantly, an exclusive, secret leadership with loyalties to Allied States.  If only he could create such an organization...
________________________

Due to growing world interest in the happenings of Inglo-Scotia, The Board of the Allied States frequently discussed the situation within the nation.  Chairperson Bustos always listened to the remarks made by The Board but, never commented himself.  He remained quiet on the issue.  He was not ready to make an offical stance as of yet.  Not until Director Raneau came up with a solution to his nuclear concerns.  BNN had ran several stories of their own and anyone with a satelite connection saw the bomber's confession live in Inglo-Scotian courts.

BNN has called for the Chairperson to hold a press conference regarding the dirty bomb in particular.  Chairperson Bustos' unhappiness with the careless use of nuclear weapons had become known to the domestic press.  There were also some concerns to whether the Allied States would support the growing international discontent with Inglo-Scotia.  An offical public news release from The Board simply stated they were investigating the matter and discussing all possibilities regarding Inglo-Scotia.

[Iadak]

On a Merchant vessel southwest from Inglo-Scotia

Dire Vendecci Devone Parpaski woke up from the dark room he was in. There was some leaking on the roof. He had his arms around two naked women in his bed. Vendecci got up from bed without waking the women in his bed. While slipping on some pants and getting a shirt he was thinking about the situation in Inglo-Scotia. One of his concubines in the bed got up and walked to Vendecci when he was lighting a Zuavka Cigar.

"Oh Dire please come back into bed. You look tired."

Vendecci put on his sunglasses, took a puff of his cigar, and then smugged hot ashes on the girl's flesh, "Get some clothes on and shut up."

The young woman made a small cry when her skin made contact with the burning ash. Vendecci walked out of the room and she and the other woman put on some clothes.

Vendecci walked up the stairs to the bridge where the Captain of the ship was. He offered Captain Frez Dai Lon a Zuavka Cigar, he took one and lit it up with his golden lighter.

"Where are we?" asked Vendecci

"Southwest of Inglo-Scotia. We got the fish cargo on check."

Vendecci appreciated the Captains use of the code, he smiled and looked out in the sea, "How much time do we have until we reach shore?"

The Captain checked his maps and then said, "Give or take 3 days in clear weather."

"Good, I was starting to lose some patience."

"Where do you want me to dock?"

"Closest port to Eire. Remember this is a fish delivery. You make sure they don't see the actual Cargo."

The Captain stood straight and firmly said, "Yes Dire."

"Good, now I'll be downstairs if you need me," he walked out of the iron door and down the stairs where he met with some of the high ranking Mafia Soldiers in their Black trench coat uniform and Ushanka with the Mafia Symbol Insignia. The Dire took another puff of the sweet Zuavka smoke and then breathed it out.

One of the men joked, "The Concubine was Southern Ozian?"

Dire Vendecci gave some chuckles to the remark and replied, "Fre'zhi," the other soldiers laughed some more.

"You have the blessings of a good night and of the pai'hulu Dire."

"That was the plan."
 

[Prydania]

OOC: G-China, I understand what your saying. Crofts, and the Commonwealth government in general, generally refer to G-Chinese with the sweeping terms "communist" and "Marxist." Think of it as a mark of ignorance.

IC:
Press Room, Commonwealth Parliament
"Ladies and gentleman of the press" Tom Wilkiek, Consul of Public Relations began, "there have been concerns, both international and intra national, on the security of the Commonwealth's nuclear materials.
Rest assured that the Éire terrorist bombing was an isolated incident.
The Commonwealth Military has full control over its nuclear arsenal, and the various nuclear power plants are opperated under the tightest of security.

The New Beaconsfiled situation itself is steadily improving, with decontamination teams working around the clock in the affected areas.
Thank you for your time, and Long Live the Victorious Revolution."
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Crofts read over Peté Tar-Ilium's transmission.
"Erik" he said, talking into a red phone that connected to each of the Consuls' offices, "let the Myrorians send their inspectors into Éire."
"Pardon sir?" Destler responded.
"Let them in. They won't find anything, except the usual destruction that goes along with civil war. Nothing for them to write home about. The camps are far away from Éire, so what are they going to find that's extra-ordinary?"
"What about the lack of adult male Éiren?"
"Have General Johnson tell them that most of them were killed in the ÉRA's final assult and the general chaos that accured afterward. War's a terrible thing, sometimes civilians get caught in the middle."
"Yes sir" Destler responded.
"Long Live the Victorious Revolution Consul."
"Long Live the Victorious Revolution sir."

[Myroria]

The first thing the observers noticed coming off their planes were the lack of adult males. Of course, anyone they asked replied with a "he died in the war" or "he died in a food rush". But that could only sustain so long. Every Éirean male died? Every one supported the revolution? Something didn't click. Councilman George Oswiecim was one of the observers. He was the only one with connections, namely to Great House Hanso, and, by proxy, his brother, Arnold Oswiecim. He approached a woman in black in a pub he visited. The usual answer to his question. "He died fighting that bas...Crofts." The brother took a wad of Kolonialreich marks with a strip saying "500" around them out of his jacket.

"So...what really happened to your husband?"

[Iadak]

The ship came into harbor and Vendecci asked the Captain, "Do they make us pay for docking?"

"Yeah, go downstairs, we have boxes filled with different currencies."

"Counterfeit?"

"I don't think so. Last time I came here they were fine which was about 3 months ago."

Vendecci and the Captain walked off the boat together on a roaped ramp down to the port where a dock man came over with a clip board. His hat had written on it, 'Victory Docking'.

"Hello there, we would like to dock our ship here for today, delivering fish to an office in (city near Eire)" said the Captain.

"Well ya got the amount of pounds for it chaps? 100 pounds per noight and 50 pounds ov'r dayloight. Ya got the bloody cash? Could ya speak a wee bit clearer I can hardly understand ya fresh off the skally talk."

"Well, we also need some Cargo trucks.... lad." awkwardly said the Dire

"Well laddy we got ya a Vict'ry Rental Cars right about the corner th're," the Inglo-Scotian spat to the side, "Marooners eh?"

The Dire was confused, "Marooner?"

The captain answered, "That's what they call Ozians."

"Oh," the Dire looked at the cash, "here's 100 for good service eh chap?"

"Ya damn marooners always got da bloody cash don't ya? No harm though chap," the dock worker patted his shoulder and a flight of dust came off his arm. The Dire brushed off the dust that went on his coat.

"How much for a truck?"

"How da bloody hell should I know? Go check them."

The Ozians walked over and rented their trucks. After unloading the fish and other packages of cargo they stuffed them into the trucks. Vendecci got into one of the vehicles and put the keys in the ignition. He turned the key but the truck wouldn't start. "I thought this was a victory car!"

The Ozian turned it and turned it until he smashed the front of the wheel with his fist and then it worked.