[u]The City of Irodon, Irodein Empire Territory [/u]

Leaning back in her chair Lady Visar listened carefully to what Tybal had to say.She was hoping the war was not going quite so well for the Empire, that would have given her a little something extra to negotiate with. But, she was not about to wish defeat upon her new friends simply so the Azera could get a little something extra. However, when it came to the arms deals it seemed as though the Govenor Militant had slightly missed the point. Diplomatic as ever she gave a small hand gesture and said in tones that were conciliatory without being patronizing. 
"Paying a certain amount per batch is acceptable for the LMG. Now we have your authorization our Lord for Trade and Industry will liaise directly with Valkorda Arms executives. Once the designs are in our possession we can start equipping our armed forces and Valkorda will get paid per batch. However, you mentioned that the latest versions of the steam powered armour and the new automatic rifle were in too short a supply to be traded. That's the duty of a production license, rather than a conventional trade. Let us worry about making it. What we are after are the designs and permission to make them in our own right. We have the industrial capacity to make armour and weapons. As I said, what we are trying to buy here are the designs and the permission to make them." With a looming war the Azera were unwilling to rely on long shipping routes to obtain these things, they wanted the ability to make them in their own borders. But selling a production licence was a profound sign of trust, particularly if you didn't get all the payment up front. You were relying on the purchaser not to just stop paying you and refuse to stop production. This was why Lady Visar had been so keen to say that neither she nor the Azera would be offended if the Empire refused the trade. She knew she was chancing her arm, but the prize was worth taking the shot. 

[u]Last Hope, the Grey Isles, Azera Territory [/u]

Sitting in the middle of the vast bay in the east coast were the Grey Isles. On one of these isles lay the bastion of Last Hope. It was a grim and dour city, a reminder from a grim and dour time, a time when they thought their race would die. This was once the Capitol of the Azera and though it had now lost that title it was still a sight to be seen. She lacked the grandeur of Foot Fall, and its beauty. But the squat, grey buildings dug into the rock, and the many military complexes had an imposing quality all of it’s own. This city, these islands, were a defender’s dream and an attacker’s nightmare. The Grey Isles had long been the corner stone of Azera military policy on the east coast, and it showed. The cliffs seemed to have bunkers and trenches dug into them, the few gravel beaches which could be landed on were heavily fortified, the trees had been cut away in the most part to provide clear lines of fire, elevated positions were supported by even more elevated positions and the uneven terrain made air landing a daunting prospect. Little to nothing was made here, but there were huge military harbours, air strips and munitions dumps. 

Deep in one of the many bunkers on this island fortress, was the command centre for east coast operations. This was the heart of military preparations in the region, and a man in a blue grey dress uniform was speaking on a telephone. This man was Admiral Farek and he was speaking directly to the First Lord. 
“Yes sir….. I understand sir……I will keep you updated sir.”
He put the phone down with a clang, he had just finished updating the First Lord on the Stellata convoy and taking his orders. An airborne patrol had spotted it and radioed it in, but not engaged. To the daragonkin on the waves the plane would have been a tiny black dot in a clouded sky. Only a talented man with powerful binoculars and little luck could have spotted them. To the plane however, the ships were, big lumbering things with huge wake trails which could be spotted miles away. From there it didn’t take long to work out who they belonged to and the fact that at least one warship was present in the convoy. A warship? Was the dragon insane? A warship! Not only was that a clear escalation, to most people that was war. It was one thing to try and break the embargo with essentially unarmed traders. But to stray across an international border, without authorisation, with big guns and hundreds of armed fighters! That was a small invasion! 

This would not go unanswered, but the convoy would not be met with armed resistance, yet. She was going to be allowed deeper into Azera territory, monitored at long distance by scout planes. She was being allowed to go wherever she pleased, but if she panicked and turned round or otherwise starting trying to get out of Azera waters then action would be taken. 

Turning to one of the many junior officers in the room the Admiral gave his orders. 
“Keep the convoy under watch, send battle group L18 to stalk the convoy, stay behind the horizon so they are not seen, coordinate through the spotter planes. Ensure there are enough marines on board for a boarding action. Put a naval bomber squadron on standby and their escort.” He then gave another order, a slightly unusual one and one that had come directly from the First Lord. “Put a camera on a multi role aircraft, photograph and film the incursion from a distance. Get closer shots only on my order.”

[u] Office of the First Lord, Footfall, Snake Tooth Peninsular, Azera Territory [/u]

Meanwhile in the City of Foot Fall, the economic threats of Halkirk were currently sitting on the desk of the First Lord. He had just gotten off of the phone with one of his Admirals in the Grey Isles, discussing the Stellata’s most recent transgression. Now, he had to talk about the Republic’s efforts. Not only was he busy with work, but he was also eating, with work being what it was he often took his meals at his desk. There was a bowl of something that looked like a noodles, though of course the Azera called it no such thing. But there was also a bowl of low quality gruel, it was absolute, bare minimum, survival food. It was out of place in the imposing surroundings and next to the comparatively luxurious noodles. But it served a valuable purpose. The Azera had been left on a rock to die, gruel was a rare godsend in the early days. So various senior members of the Azera had taken to eating one bowl of gruel every day, to remind them of a time when they had no gruel. It was unpleasant but the First Lord drank it down slowly, taking care to remember the suffering of his people with every gulp. With this done he set the bowl aside and started tucking into the proper food with far more obvious enjoyment. However, it was an enjoyment obviously tainted by the events of the day. 

He despaired at the rest of the world sometimes. War was hurtling towards him because of ancient grudges, out moded beliefs, greed and the pursuit of the fattest profit possible. Were the Azera one of the few, perhaps the only, people on this world to have any real sense of perspective? Still, whilst war with the Stellata now seemed inevitable due to their armed incursion and the inevitable response to it, Halkirk might still be neutralised. All they seemed to care about was money, well they could use that.

To the First Lord’s right was the Lord of the treasury, to his left the Lord for trade and industry. But interestingly, the Lord Marshal was also there, still resplendent in his magnificent white air force uniform. He was here because of a far more concerning part of the picture. A reconnaissance report also lay on the desk, it stated that elements of the Republic of Halkirk’s navy had begun moving toward Azera waters, seemingly to protect trade. The financial threats had been provocative enough, now war ships! It seemed insanity was a common theme today. 

The first Lord was pulled out of his musing by the Lord of the Treasury speaking. 
“Their financial threat was poorly though through. A weaker currency will only help our export market and make us even more attractive in these uncertain times. We will ship more than enough extra loads to compensate for any reduced real terms profit per individual ship. As for imports, we can live without anything we were shipping in. We have everything we need for our survival and the war effort within our own borders. Statutory declarations can counter the negative effects of currency devaluation on wages.” It seemed the Azera’s previous expansionist policy had paid off, they had intentionally absorbed areas which provided the necessary food and raw materials to sustain a healthy and militarily relevant power even if all import routes were cut off. They could not live in luxury, but they could live. The Lord of the Treasury seemed confident, even slightly smug in his economic analysis and the First Lord tended to agree. Were it to end there then this would be a simple matter. 

But it did not end there. It seemed the Republic wanted to trade and nothing was going to stop them. They were willing to risk war and relations in the region for generations, all for the sake of a few measly Emerald Dollars. They could stomach the Republic’s economic threats but what of her military ones. The Lord Marshal was there to answer that question. 
“Sir, the fact the Republic are already deploying elements from what we believe are two of their main fleets speaks of belligerence and confidence. I am not sure they will be willing to negotiate. Their army, which appears to consist of three understrength corps, is of no real threat. Even if they landed all three corps on our northern coast a single Homeland army, on a defensive footing, could defeat them. Plus their own homes would be open to attack from other opportunistic kingdoms. They have to know this so the threat of a meaningful invasion is minimal. Their fleet is larger than ours, particularly if you include the merchant marine though that is not a true combat force. Their ships are roughly of an equivalence to ours, though their battle frigates are closer to battleships than their name implies. They also lack any battle cruiser type ships, according to aerial recon any way. Crucially though, their fleet operates without air cover. Rapiers, Invincibles, Titans and many other designs of airship as well as the Light Air force could all operate with near impunity. I would describe our chances against them as strong sir. There are however, two major problems.”
Leaning forward the Lord Marshal put his weight on the desk.
“Firstly sir, we both know how hard it is to assault a well-defended island. Our entire east coast strategy relies on that. We could hold the Grey Isles with a man holding a sharp stick and whilst I doubt the Republic have fortified any of their islands to that extent, aside from a few near the southern end of the chain, each island still poses a significant problem. They may not be able to do us any real harm should they go on the attack. But, if we opt to start invading their islands, it will be slow and costly. I would be confident of an eventual victory but it would not come quickly. Secondly, we would not be fighting them with our full force, troops, ships, airships and aircraft will all have to be directed at Stellata. Fighting a war on two fronts is always a risky prospect.”

“Can we do it?” Inquired the First Lord flatly, he was obviously asking for a plain assessment. 
“There are far too many variables sir. But, if the situation remains as it is we could do it. Adopt a defensive position to the north. Harass the Republic, present them with as few targets as possible, use some air power to take a few knocks at soft targets. Meanwhile, throw the majority of our power at Stellata, knock them out of the war quickly, then deal with the Republic. Ideally we could suck in the Steam Coalition as well. It shouldn’t take too much to make them take a pot shot at their old enemy whilst it’s distracted. Of course, ideally we would avoid opening a second front entirely.”

The First Lord nodded silently for a few moments. There was no disputing that last comment, the fewer fronts the better and a war was not something to be eagerly embraced. As the First Lord saw it there was one way to get the Republic out of the picture, they had to appeal to the thing they cared about the most, their wallets. Looking up at one of his aides the First Lord said levelly. 
“Call in the highest representative of the Republic you can find. Let’s get this sorted.” Whilst he sounded calm you could tell it was a mask. He was angry, furious that the Republic would do this for such a petty reason. But the First Lord was not done yet. Turning to the Lord Marshal he continued. 
“Liaise with the minister for trade and industry, start drawing up a plan for universal conscription and total economic mobilisation. We aren’t at that stage yet but I want to be ready if it comes. If this crisis starts getting any bigger I want every asset and every person of this nation contributing to the war effort. There will be no non-contributory civilians. You also have authorisation to use any means necessary including the command of industry, to turn a Homeland Army of your choosing into a second Assault Army. Begin retraining as soon as possible and see to it those S units start rolling off the production line. Pursue an aggressive recruitment drive, funnel the men primarily into all three branches of the air force, subject to your assessment of our military needs.” 

The Lord Marshal simply nodded his understanding, whilst the First Lord looked about at the others in the room. There were no questions, no looks of confusion, everyone knew their task. So the First Lord brought the impromptu meeting to a close. 
“You all have your tasks, get to them. And bring me men from Halkirk as soon as possible!”