Post by DrMedic on Apr 30, 2023 21:01:31 GMT -5
A lone rider in an Imperial Army uniform and a tattered scout’s cloak tore through the streets of Iomairt on horseback. He’d been riding for ages it seemed. His legs started aching from the saddle four horses in, and he’d swapped through seven more since then. Regardless of the conditions, he had to get this message through to the Imperator, the future of Eleria rested entirely upon his shoulders. He pressed on through the rain and squall, pushing both himself and his steed beyond the limits, shifting his focus for but a moment to check the brass flare gun on his hip. It was his sole ticket through to the palace uncontested, at least, provided the guards didn’t get in his way. Given the lateness of the hour, he was expecting some questions. With white knuckles, he removed the flare launcher from its pouch, popping open the breach to check the firing pin and primer one more time. Satisfied with their condition, he clicked it shut, pulled back the hammer, aimed it skyward, and squeezed the trigger. The rocket screamed as it climbed into the firmament, discharging a parachute flare that draped the palace grounds in a haunting green glow.
As soon as the beat of the horse’s hooves could be heard by the guards at the front gate, they opened it, leaving the way ahead clear for the rider to reach the front door of the palace. Just outside, he hopped off his horse, allowing the guards to take it to the stables for a well-earned rest. Swinging the door open, he was greeted by an older man in a distinct uniform, evidently one of the superiors on the night watch. The guard eyed the rider up for a bit, picking out the crossed arrows of a captain on his sleeves, as well as his unit patch. “Might I ask, what exactly is your plan, considering those green flares are meant to be used explicitly by the Ministry of War.”
“Sir, I’ve come from the mainland, we’ve g-”
He furrowed his brow, “From the mainland? And you found your way back here to the palace for what?”
“It’s General Gulliver sir, he’s-”
“Oh, THAT part of the mainland? And you show up here at what, almost four in the morning? Get a bit homesick, soldier? Want to take a break from your turkey shoot and have a bit of tea with the Imperator? Or are you and your ‘General’ about to give in and call it quits?” the guard said with a mocking chuckle.
“No sir, that’s not it.” The Captain reached into his satchel and produced a poster, On it was a distinctly not-Elerian flag, as well as statements against the imperium and its rule, inviting people to join an army coined the ‘True Way.’ “We’ve got days, sir, they’re intent on taking the island by force, and they won’t stop until the Imperator’s dead and Gulliver wears the crown.”
With a heavy sigh, the guard stood aside, pointing to a set of double doors atop the grand staircase. “Up through those doors, straight down the hall. Give a loud knock first and wait for one of them to answer. They won’t be happy with you at first I’d imagine, but this is beyond important enough I’d say. Godspeed.”
“He’s on his way here, and you said Galra’s the one supplying him and his forces?” Asked the Imperatrix, sitting on the bed as she looked over the poster whilst an enraged Laurence paced about the room.
“Yes ma’am, rifles, MG’s, tanks, planes, munitions, artillery, even rations. I thought I saw a couple other flags and insignias on the crates as they were coming in at first, but if I’m being honest, I couldn’t really place them.”
“That’s… that’s no small state…” Marina rested her chin in the palm of her hand, mulling over the situation. It made sense that Galra would be the one to spark trouble. Everyone could see how swiftly they cozied up to the Ministry of War, how eager they were to sell their equipment to the Imperium. The low costs, the gifts, all meant for the military. Though the Galran ambassador to Eleria had assured them it was just a way to get rid of some surplus that would’ve been left rotting in a warehouse, it did seem a bit convenient.
With a clenched fist, the Imperator addressed his wife, “We’ll get going on an operation then, kill the bastard and sow some chaos among the traitors’ ranks. We’ll cut off the Ministry of War and handle this ourselves if we have to, assemble a group we know are loyal to the Imperium and begin preparations. We’ll have to activate the reserves, but if that’s what it’ll take then we’ll do it. I’ll get on the way to the design bureau in a couple hours, see about getting the engines for those Lancers reverse-engineered and figure out what it’ll take to get a domestic fighter in the air…” his thought trailed off as he realized the magnitude of it all. There was no conceivable way they’d be able to win the fight alone in any reasonable span of time, and without the mainland’s resources, they’d stand no chance in a battle of attrition. “No, that won’t be enough. We need allies.”
A couple hours later, diplomatic communications would be sent as discreetly as possible to the United Kingdom of Ulster-Gaelia, The United Kingdoms of Lusatia and Jzegrad, and the Federal Republic of Amali. Even if the Imperium were destined to fall, were all their efforts to be in vain, the world would not see the Greater Imperium of Eleria slip quietly into the pages of history.
As soon as the beat of the horse’s hooves could be heard by the guards at the front gate, they opened it, leaving the way ahead clear for the rider to reach the front door of the palace. Just outside, he hopped off his horse, allowing the guards to take it to the stables for a well-earned rest. Swinging the door open, he was greeted by an older man in a distinct uniform, evidently one of the superiors on the night watch. The guard eyed the rider up for a bit, picking out the crossed arrows of a captain on his sleeves, as well as his unit patch. “Might I ask, what exactly is your plan, considering those green flares are meant to be used explicitly by the Ministry of War.”
“Sir, I’ve come from the mainland, we’ve g-”
He furrowed his brow, “From the mainland? And you found your way back here to the palace for what?”
“It’s General Gulliver sir, he’s-”
“Oh, THAT part of the mainland? And you show up here at what, almost four in the morning? Get a bit homesick, soldier? Want to take a break from your turkey shoot and have a bit of tea with the Imperator? Or are you and your ‘General’ about to give in and call it quits?” the guard said with a mocking chuckle.
“No sir, that’s not it.” The Captain reached into his satchel and produced a poster, On it was a distinctly not-Elerian flag, as well as statements against the imperium and its rule, inviting people to join an army coined the ‘True Way.’ “We’ve got days, sir, they’re intent on taking the island by force, and they won’t stop until the Imperator’s dead and Gulliver wears the crown.”
With a heavy sigh, the guard stood aside, pointing to a set of double doors atop the grand staircase. “Up through those doors, straight down the hall. Give a loud knock first and wait for one of them to answer. They won’t be happy with you at first I’d imagine, but this is beyond important enough I’d say. Godspeed.”
“He’s on his way here, and you said Galra’s the one supplying him and his forces?” Asked the Imperatrix, sitting on the bed as she looked over the poster whilst an enraged Laurence paced about the room.
“Yes ma’am, rifles, MG’s, tanks, planes, munitions, artillery, even rations. I thought I saw a couple other flags and insignias on the crates as they were coming in at first, but if I’m being honest, I couldn’t really place them.”
“That’s… that’s no small state…” Marina rested her chin in the palm of her hand, mulling over the situation. It made sense that Galra would be the one to spark trouble. Everyone could see how swiftly they cozied up to the Ministry of War, how eager they were to sell their equipment to the Imperium. The low costs, the gifts, all meant for the military. Though the Galran ambassador to Eleria had assured them it was just a way to get rid of some surplus that would’ve been left rotting in a warehouse, it did seem a bit convenient.
With a clenched fist, the Imperator addressed his wife, “We’ll get going on an operation then, kill the bastard and sow some chaos among the traitors’ ranks. We’ll cut off the Ministry of War and handle this ourselves if we have to, assemble a group we know are loyal to the Imperium and begin preparations. We’ll have to activate the reserves, but if that’s what it’ll take then we’ll do it. I’ll get on the way to the design bureau in a couple hours, see about getting the engines for those Lancers reverse-engineered and figure out what it’ll take to get a domestic fighter in the air…” his thought trailed off as he realized the magnitude of it all. There was no conceivable way they’d be able to win the fight alone in any reasonable span of time, and without the mainland’s resources, they’d stand no chance in a battle of attrition. “No, that won’t be enough. We need allies.”
A couple hours later, diplomatic communications would be sent as discreetly as possible to the United Kingdom of Ulster-Gaelia, The United Kingdoms of Lusatia and Jzegrad, and the Federal Republic of Amali. Even if the Imperium were destined to fall, were all their efforts to be in vain, the world would not see the Greater Imperium of Eleria slip quietly into the pages of history.