[centre][h3][u]Sund, Veletian Settumu,[/u][/h3][/centre]
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The whole of Veletian Settumu was a flurry of military activity, the entire National Garrison and Flotilla redeploying across the whole of the colony, changing their patrol routes and redistributing their numbers. Every city street from Sund to Sandao was filled with armed men marching, but Sund seemed to be the centre of it all; a nexus of increased armed forces activity that any civilian could readily recognize. Something had happened, was happening, was about to happen, for there could be no other excuse for the organized chaos of continental soldiers hurrying to and fro, storming with authority through the crowds of the curious Kikitomi. Not one man of the National Garrison had the same job in the same place as he'd had the day before, the entire structure of Veletian Settumu's defenses altered unrecognizably. A fortified building in southern Sund that had once been an ammunition depot was now an officer's quarters, the regular deliveries of shells and bullets replaced with lighter cargo of old men in army suits; a seaside dock in St. Fereaux whose fishing boats had once used to ferry soldiers between islands was sold off to a local fisherman, boats and all—an under-performing tourism company ten kilometres away now serving those same formations. Any information that any foreign power had gleaned about anything in Veletian Settumu was now completely and utterly worthless, as if outdated by years.

Those who had the worst of the changes were the new arrivals: men of the legions of Violette proper who'd never been deployed outside the homeland found themselves in the colonies for the first time, swapping places with veterans of the National Garrison, who now found themselves back in Violette. Any soldier deemed to carry undo prejudice against the locals was no longer in the colony. For their replacements, the deathly humidity was almost as bad as not being able to understand a word a local had to say: though many Kikitomi of course spoke Veletian, and any sign on the street had to (at least) display a Veletian version of the same message, of equal size. The most frustrating part of the deployment shifts, though, more so than the hectic clamor of it all or the men being reassigned from one continent to another, was the complete lack of explanation given for the changes. There were rumors in some officer circles of a Kikitomi insurrection brewing that might have spurred the new assignments, but nothing confirmed. Not even high-ranking officers had been offered a reason for the changes, only told to ensure that not a single of their men was doing the same job in the same place as he had previously. It all created an atmosphere of quiet tension: everyone was sure something would start, but no one wanted to start anything.

Unbeknownst to locals and Gendarmerie alike were the purges going on against Veletian Settumu's miniscule Hironese minority. Young men from Hiron living on their own in rural areas or near military installations—especially new arrivals—were being killed in their homes by well-paid Kikitomi in plain clothes, anything that could possibly be coded intelligence on their persons destroyed, and their bodies taken outside to be feasted upon by local wildlife. Hironese families in the cities were relocated from one island to another, their personal belongings inspected first, looking for anything at all remotely suspicious. The only Hironese-language newspaper in all of Veletian Settumu, a local weekly in Sund, had been the victim of a tragic and officially accidental fire. Diplomatically, Violette's officials remained solely focused on the Hironese demands for Mr. Droulez's extradition. No mention at all was made in correspondence of Veletian Settumu, or the events that had transpired on February 14th. None would be, either, for the good of both countries. Violette understood itself to have averted a conflict, and hoped the Hironese would not try to incite another.