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Journalists and Opportunities
On the capital of Achik, Tuqay. The smoke coming out from the funnels of ever newer built factories was turning the once beautiful skies into skies filled with grey and black clouds. The streets were busy with people moving from one place to another. Men dressed in impeccable red and gold military uniforms patrolling the streets were now another new common sight in the city that was filled with chants for both the old and the new.

This was journalist Rupay Ñanqi could see from the triangular window of his small apartment. A stack of papers could be seen on his desk, all neatly ordered and arranged according to date of publication. A canvas and brush facing the desk, an amateurish painting that could say to the viewer that it was there as another creative whim of its owner and creator.

Rupay manages to take a glance at a group of women being courted by a duo of soldiers before he hears a knock on his door that makes him look back. Two knocks follow repetitively, the sounds of a busy guest or a known friend. Rupay stands up the wooden chair where he was sitting creaking a little as his weight off it.

Immediately, he moves to the door and puts a sweater on. It is cold inside already but outside it can get even colder and besides, he looks really good in that new sweater of his. Just as he finishes putting it on, he opens the door to find a known face on the other side of the wooden frame. "Greetings, mister Rupay or should I say chief writer Rupay?" The man teases, he is young and his olive skin reflects completely to that of Rupay, if perhaps with a smaller shade of white.

"Chief writer sounds better and it also comes implies a higher salary to whatever scraps the news state department gives me." He says slightly proud and also relieved that he isn't going to suffer any more under the "only eating a potato" diet he was getting used to. "Anyways, what brings you here so early, besides I haven't finished my article for tomorrow."

"Oh, that's because I was told to give you this." He proceeds to show a letter, he had in his right pocket. "The head chief gave it to me and told me to take it to you today. He said it was important and all that, so I really didn't take a peek at it." He hands over the sealed letter and says. "Well, today I have a family meeting someone's from the provinces is coming so that's really important. I hope that whatever is there is important enough to really warrant your attention."

Just like that he bids his goodbyes. Immediately, he leaves almost as if he was in a hurry. He wasn't one to miss contact with his family for too long, especially now that a new railway line had been built that connected his hometown to the railway network around the country. "Alright, I wonder what's this about." Rupay says as he opens the letter ripping the seal and sitting on his single bed. The letter reads.

"Chief Writer Rupay Ñanqi

The Empire of Achik requires of your services in the frontlines. I am well acquainted with the fact that you have done a good service for the state newspaper agency in which you are employed. Recent urgencies and events has lead us to require of your writing services. Effective immediately you are now a non-commissioned member of the military. Please present yourself to the military ministry at your earliest convenience. Further details will be given out by me when we meet.

Signed General Qarpa Cocha, member of the council and faithful follower of the Inti."

Rupay didn't know how to react to this new citation. He was filled to the brim with feelings of excitement and wonder, being picked out for something of worth by an authority at his early age was something that certainly added to his ego, however, the situation also required delicacy and working with the military, the most powerful arm of the entire Achik state was also something that required cautions. But even then the young Rupay couldn't help himself and begin putting on his clothes to travel to the ministry.

If this was reckless without first seeking some advice, it was for him to find out. Yet, the door that opened to him was something he wouldn't simply miss. The stories and the fame that would bring him would certainly add another boost to his career. One that he wasn't going to miss out on.

And just like that, the man on the window that painted clouds and fumes left his apartment. Unknowingly embarking himself in a dangerous and historic journey.


Imperial Discussions
The council of the eight was composed of marshalls and generals. Recently Marshall Ataranpao had been advocating to push for a war against their colonial neighbors. Ataranpao was a proud man, of his nation, of his history, of his hometown. This was a well-earned pride too, one that commanded the respect of his soldiers and of the 8th army. He was engaged in a discussion in one of the massive corridors of the Imperial Ministry of War, tall and long enough that voices could not be heard from end to the other.

"War? Achik is on the highest point of its entire history and you want to bring to war with two of its largest neighbors? I am sorry Marshall Ataranpao, but I assumed you were a man of reason when you took up the post." Spoke Marshall Anahuarque, a woman and the leader of the 3rd Army. Strict, Cautious, and most importantly always proper.

"Do not insult me Marshall Anahuarque, I know very well the risks that such an enterprise would involve. Yet, there is a reason, the emperor has long authorized us to increase the size of the army and that's because we can and must retake the territories that rightfully belong to the Empire."

"I hope you have a better argument than that to convince the rest of the council Marshall. Who knows just for how long their war will last, they have had wars for the last two centuries or so. I am not one to risk their ire without good reason. We risk the existence of our country and you know that very well."

"You are too cautious Anahuarque and you will regret that, this is an opportunity that will not appear again in our lifetimes. We must carry out the will of the emperor and his people back. Our ancestors waited for this moment when they first fled the capital, I am not going to deny the people of what is theirs. Anyways, I shall see you in the meeting."

With that said. The meeting he spoke of could come in the coming week and Ataranpao was seeking to convince the rest of the generals and marshalls. Convince the entire council would not be an easy matter but all he needed was the vote of two of the swing generals and he had already achieve one. The other was another matter.
Empire of Khazaria

"The end is near" is the thought that many Khazarians shared, they could say that with a clear sigh of relief. The war was going to be over, the victorious nation of Khazaria was about to once again show its dominance over the region. The Emperor and his court awaited further news from both fronts but with everything that was going there was no doubt that the time to deliver the final strike was coming soon. The starved forces of Dorist would be arriving at a bitter end that was more than clear to both the besieged and besiegers of the city of Kronik.

What else could be expected from the greater forces of Khazaria than total glory and victory? Yet, the news for Khazaria wasn't all rosy just as the news of victories arrived faster, the bad news arrived even faster. The naval forces of the Republic of Kalseran just like another dagger to the back of Khazaria had appeared to begin their dance with the Kingdom of Komentiolos and Dorist. The three western nations that were within the immediate sphere of influence of Khazaria and Paranas were now looking to attack them both in a way not too dissimilar to the crusades of old.

"If Nursultan saw this, he would condemn us! We cannot let Paranas fall. It's time to recall our forces from the north. The forces of Stevata and Teclav maybe our distant friends but the people of Paranas are like our brothers. We cannot let them fall now, your majesty you must surely see this through. Your ancestors wouldn't want to see the capital of our allies to fall, just as the old Khazars had their clans on the vanguard rather than their allies the same should apply today." Said Baghatur, a noble from one of the ancient clans of Khazaria said to be a kin-clan to the original dynasty of the Empire.

The Emperor maintained his silence, his hand clenched on the arms rest of his throne. He saw this as a disrespect to his decision and authority, but how could he know that at his young age he would have to deal with a coalition that rivaled the worst challenges that the Khazarians had to face in their long history. A side of the court continued to applaud Baghatur, who every time he asked it looked more like a demand on the young emperor to remove his troops from Dorist and send them to the south. But not only that, but he also sought to engage Komentiolos through their eastern border and begin an offensive on a terrain that General Yitzhak had described as "impassable".

Baghatur was one of many members of the house of notables to tell the Emperor to change his views and begin advance south. Yet, the emperor faced doubt at a level that he had not seen before, he had to make a compromise with his court and the house of notables. The time for waiting had over and soon enough everything on his mind was already set for it to do. He dismissed once more Baghatur and the rest of the court, they begrudgingly complied. He had given him a dubious "I shall see what can be done." for an answer but one that didn't truly say the plans he had on mind to him. He wanted results to show and not words to placate an ambitious and out of place noble.

Results to validate his young reign, he knew that any wrong step and it would take decades to clear his name. To become an average Khazar and not one to be remembered for times to come.


General Yitzhak wore his golden attire with great care, he didn't wake up a single day without a proper schedule and a setlist of chores to do before going to meet with his officers and soldiers. Such perfection was the self-made image of a General from the west, from the civilized waste, the perfect general that he ought to be for his country, and that represented that change from the old times to the new. He was a General that drank little, slept at a particular hour, ate the same breakfast every day, and made sure that he had more than a pair of clothes cleaned and ready to use. He was a tall man, short black hair covered in a nicely done red hat, and a posture that looked almost too perfect for a man to ever achieve.

When he stepped out of his tent, he saw a mountain range and his camp. The sunrise was always greeting him like a lover to his mistress, he began with a small walk around the camp. Inspection, he called it, as the soldiers began to do their chores and duties around the camp. The reinforcements had come well but according to the news from the west, it was clear that they were needed somewhere else. He himself felt wasted away around this border, his scouting and forward units saw that it was clear than an attack from either side was harsh at best and impossible most of the time.

But duty was a duty and he was content to do his duty as the perfect general, while Alp Tarkhan drank on the glory of the west. The situation in Paranas complicated the situation even further if only he was there...already, a war against the armies of Komentiolos and Kalseran wouldn't be too much of a problem from the rumours he had heard but Paranas had focused on their naval strength....perhaps relying too much on their alliance with the greater army of Khazaria. Only time would tell, just as he finished off the morning tour of his camp, a messenger came. A small but fast sloop could be seen on the distance of the harbor far below the camp. This only meant one or two things, reinforcements, news, or orders. He hoped the last would come true.


The Maytari people awoke with a headache and for a slight moment their minds were cleared off all worries, tranquility overcame their minds. The knowledge that they were going to perish gone but not forever. The hundred or so Maytari that had woken up in the clearing could hear the river next to them, foreign sounds of birds and the well-known sounds of leaves being touched by the wind. The Maytari didn't know their own names, their own anything, did they really ever own anything before? They couldn't know and wouldn't know. The past seemed distant and the future so unknown that it was better not to think about it.

Yet the natural instincts of the Maytari soon took over, they were in an unknown place that they knew and the rest, the rest would have to play out just like how it unfolded in the first days of the Maytari back in their home. They had no language, they couldn't communicate as if they used nor could their minds try to bring back precious memories of how to speak. Only weird sounds came from their mouths when they began "speaking" grunts, noises. Their communication was crude but their instincts soon guided their sounds, the survival instincts and most importantly the focus on the present soon became the main drive of the Maytari who found themselves in these foreign lands.

As Maytari foraged and hunted for food. It soon became clear that they were an apex predator, the animals they found were no faster than their younglings and not strong enough to fight back. Wounds were rare but they had to be taken care of and as such, the Maytari soon became to organize themselves in a better way to avoid injuries that could put them out for too long, if they did get hurt an adult maytari was a hurdle to feed and they needed everyone to maximize their hunting payout.

Amongst the Maytari various cliques formed, each representing a group of 20 or so Maytari that took care of each other. The cliques lived to close to each other, each lead by a strong male and each with a delineated area to hunt and forage. The five leaders speaking with each other solving problems between their cliques and those of others trying to maintain competitive and aggressive Maytari from causing too much social disruption and overall trying to keep a certain level of order and social cohesion in the group. Each of them learning

Province of Shardvul

The sounds of the battlefield had long been gone from fields and forests of Shardvul. The soldiers and horse riders of Khazaria were bloodied yes but victorious and victory was enough for Alp Tarkhan. The camp he had set up after the battle against Dorist remained jubilant and there was something particular in the tents that had been brought by the Khazarian army because there was a clear divide between the aesthetic side of the tents of the cavalry and the foot soldiers. The tents of the foot soldiers were modern and adjusted in a triangular manner made with cloth. Alp Tarkhans tent and that of the clans who had recently united the Khazarian army instead used yurts, circular tents made out of wool these were far more rustic and colorful that the rest of the tents of the army.

If one had an eagle view of the camp of the Khazarians, one could see a very westernized half and another far more rustic side of the camp. Many officers and aides from Teclav and Stevata would after the war comment on this divide, one such account from a Stevatan officer named Fedor Zima would say. "From afar our allies look like a single army, but it is enough to see the different colors of their cavalrymen and infantry to notice a great divide, even the smell of their officers is different from one side of their camp to other." As such, even the allies of Khazaria while not saying so directly acknowledged that the Khazarians still had a wild aspect to their nation. One that had only been reinforced early and that had begun to even rub off the more westernized side of the Khazarian culture, it became a sort of a fad to wear the ancient styled feathered hats even the hairstyles of many began to change.

During this moment in history, Khazaria reconnected to its roots due to the victory that they had achieved against Dorist. But these roots also reignited the calls of a past era, when the Emperors of Khazaria were nothing else but the first amongst equals, something that empowered the house notables with their ancient dynasties to feel the right to call the emperor to focus on the rightful enemy of the Khazarian people, the kingdom of Komentiolos. A nation full of rulers that without a doubt only wished for the worst for the people of Khazaria, who wouldn't doubt to massacre its towns and villages, burn their temples and cities. The outcries against the kingdom of Komentiolos only grew lauder after with the help of Paranas a stalemate was once again achieved at sea. They claimed that it was time to redirect the efforts of the army to the border to finally take revenge upon the kingdom that had been nothing else but a curse through the history of Khazaria, that the elders of old would never forgive us for letting Komentiolos go away unpunished from this war.

As Alp Tarkhan planned to secure his final victory and return to Khazaria. The Emperor prepared to placate the house of notables once again, but words wouldn't suffice not for too long. The war in the west had cost the Khazarian treasury and people a great lot, and when their allies to the south had begun to support their maritime force against Komentiolos it became clear that it was time for the Emperor to remember the tale of the two princes once more or someone would have to remind him.

Winter Palace

"Wolfgang Draton that's his name! A coward a terrible general one that will let his army starve before taking the merciful option that our allies have allowed for them. With the forces Stevata and Teclav have stationed there already, we can ensure that they will be dealt with swiftly. Please, your imperial majesty bring back Alp Tarkhan and his army of stallions to win the war to our south! Paranas is already with us, it is time to secure the southern strait for us and our allies to let Khazaria never again be threatened by the backstabbers to our south." One of the clan nobles gave this speech while many more applauded him. The Regents and the Emperor looked at them, their gazes as unbroken as ever. The young emperor had learned well from his aunt and it showed.

"Paranas is helping us, the army of Dorist is corraled in their city and the seas remain contested. You are correct, we are holding this war correctly and I gave it to the right hands. But until peace is signed with our name between the victors in the west, we will have to keep our soldiers there. I will not risk defeat for a battle that right now, is not worth being fought. I lament the destruction of our towns, but we will make the Komentiolos repay once their fleet is finally defeated." The Emperor declared. "It will be enough for the new recruits to be sent to the army of Yitzhak, a portion of them will replenish the losses of Alp Tarkhan but a great portion will go to Yitzhak if that will placate your worries. Also remember, that this war is not going to be won in the mountains where our forefathers had their horses die in the hundreds, it will be won in the seas and once we secure the sea, we will be able to strike anywhere in Komentiolos even their capital if we so wish it. All I ask is patience, the war in the west will be over soon and the south will be ours too. Nursultan didn't win the crusades in a single year and I don't seek to make it so that I lose a war in four months. Dismissed."

With that said the forces of Yitzhak would be replenished and the forces at sea, supported by Paranas were now to become more aggressive. Their goal to force another battle with their beleaguered navy and where else than in their shipyards. Where the ships of the line of Paranas and Khazaria could wreak havoc at a pace that no other could achieve.
The Winter Palace at the city of Mel-Izar was turning into a rather busy place. The bells of war had been called all over the country and now it seemed that another front was about to open. To the south, the long-standing rivals of Khazaria, Komentiolos, had begun their naval operations over the black sea. Waiting for the results was stressful enough for the ex-imperial regent, Sevil Macar but it seemed that the sixteen-year-old. Şahin Macar remained calm over this throne waiting for the reports both from the west and south, his mind had turned into an incognita for most but not for Sevil, the aunt that had raised him.

She was quick to recognize that the true face of the Emperor was that of a young emperor, excited to prove his worth yet nervous to fail in the early steps that could have him labeled for the entirety of his reign. A defeat was not allowed for him and his pride, when he gave the order to Alp Tarkhan to attack the western areas with impunity it was quite clear that he sought glory and prestige as the ruler of his kingdom should succeed.

But at the same time, he worried over a possible defeat of the coalition army to the west. It was impossible to tell by the reports, just how much Alp Tarkhan was collaborating with his allies and only seeking glory for himself rather than trying to actually win the war. One of Sahin's fingers constantly tapped the arm side of his throne, he was anxiously waiting for the report that Alp Tarkhan had promised would arrive soon and two weeks had passed and nothing had been sent.

Had Alp Tarkhan been defeated and his army routed so that the news would probably take far longer to get through the wartorn region of the Dorist province. It made him smile though, that a war begun with a provocation by the Dorist had turned so sour to them, rallied the eastern neighbors and probably secured another hundred years of peace between Stevata, Teclav and Khazaria. A couple of servants beverages to the young Emperor and he drank them graciously, it helped cool his head off.

He looked at his aunt and nodded, thanking her for the gesture. It was already the afternoon and it was about time to take a bath, the Emperor was thinking of retiring from his throne room in the winter palace for the day, perhaps tomorrow would bring the reports he sought so much or perhaps not. It was then that footsteps of metal Khazarian boots could be heard coming from the hallway, Sahin macar leaned his back on his throne preparing himself for whatever was to come. This could be an early victory or defeat depending on just how well Alp Tarkhan had worded the letter addressed to him.

The guards opened the door and the messenger the Emperor had sent to Alp Tarkhan could be seen. He bowed to the Emperor and then approached him, leaving the message on the hands of Imperial Regent Sevil Macar, who then passed it to the young emperor. The messenger respectfully retreated back waiting for the Emperor to speak, his aunt waiting for him to read it and then pass judgment. But her eyes were far focused on his facial gestures, something that could tell more than a thousand words in circumstances like this.

"It is done." The Emperor stood up after reading the report, leaving the report on the experienced hands of his aunt. "Alp Tarkhan has been victorious!" He said rallying the cheers of his bureaucracy, servants and the guardsmen. It was tradition to always cheer a victory and it was the Emperor's judgement to say if a battle was a victory or not, but it seemed that the conditions on the front had stabilized and for the better. One of the Dorist's armies had been defeated on the field, while casualties had been inflicted upon his own forces it was expected that the Khazarian footmen wouldn't perform as well as its cavalry or their Dorist counterparts.

"It is certainly a victory." Confirmed Sevil, the Emperor's aunt with a nod of her head. Her approval gave the whole court a sense of relief. "But it won't be much so for the sons, brothers, and fathers who were sent to the battle." She finished with those words, the Emperor glaring at her trying to understand her but finally doing so and instead of minimizing the death of his subjects, he remembered the great sacrifices that past emperors had also taken to ensure that their subjects had not suffered as much. "You are right, the soldiers who have fallen in this battle are just as important as any other of my subjects, they deserve a propel rest with the great sky father. I am sure that the pensions we pay to windows and orphans will get to the families of the fallen. They have done their part for the Empire and I can only thank them for that with shiny coins and pretty words.." He finished, realizing that just as his mother and father had died because of fate, the bodies littering the fields had also died because of the pettiness of fate.

He calmed himself though and he knew that the war wasn't yet over. Two Dorist armies remained to the west and the navy of Komentiolos had been hurting trade and commerce through their raiding and letters of marque. But the navy of Khazaria had yet to fulfill its potential and much like the army, it still needed years of training and preparedness to fulfill the security needs of his nation. The war had also begun to drain the national treasuries, time would be needed to solve all those issues but the backstabbers of the Komentiolos true nature could finally be seen.

"Anyways. This victory is enough for us at the moment, it is time to rally help from the south and who else that our long-standing friends to the south. We had indeed promised to respect their neutrality out of respect for their marriage ties with their neighbors to the west. But that was for the conflict with Dorist, this time the hidden dagger of Komentiolos has struck us like that of an opportunist crow looking for meat. But they won't find any rotten meat in our empire! and less without allies to support us. They will pay the price of this affront with interest." The speech of the emperor roused another cheer from the nobles within the court and his officers. "Bring me a scribe. I want this message immediately sent to the king of Paranas."

Rodrigo Alvarado Velasquez Quesquen

Admiral of the navy, what a boring job. The navy of Melizea was nothing more than a few frigates put together and called a "fleet", truly this was some sort of punishment for supporting the wrong candidate. Psshhh, well Rodrigo would still take his job seriously. He meet with the crews of each of the ships of the navy and made sure to know them well. Inviting the captains into dinner parties with his other military friends, more often than not just looking at those small ships in the ocean wondering if with the next president he would have better luck.

Regardless, when the budget of the government came. It was quite clear that not enough had been spent on national defense, too much on niceties overseas and too much on transportation, the Melizean navy needed destroyers, perhaps one day carriers!! Who knew, but not wishing to antagonize the president or at least not just yet. He sent his approval to the president with a large "AYE"
Rodrigo Alvarado Velasquez Quesquen

"Hahahaha, what are you waiting for! Get those men in the streets, it is time for our parade." Said Rodrigo, he had made preparations for his soldiers to march at dawn in one of the larger cities of the city of Melizea, of course, soldiers marching out of their barracks had been the common sight of a possible coup'd'etat in past times but today was a special day, it was the day of the fallen of a long-forgotten battle that ended up in pyrrhic victory for Melizea but nonetheless a holiday and as such, it was the perfect excuse to get his soldiers out of the barracks and make them wave the flag of not only Melizea but also the party flag of no other than Marcela Linhares Lópes. The candidate he kindly supported, after all, Rodrigo was a man of the military and also a progressive quite the strange man for a Melizean general. But he supported her mostly because of her military background, she could be a firm hand on the government and the corruption that plagued the country.

His soldiers began to march, the sound of their boots and their singing of "Order, Democracy and Punishment." A song that basically spoke about those three values, order for the nation. Democracy for the people and punishment for the wrongdoers. If he could, Velasquez would just shoot at the corrupt elements of Melizea but well things couldn't be so easy now could they? He then got on top of his horse and lead the march into the city, followed by a small contingent of Marcela's party that cheered and supported the march, enough for the media to get a few good pictures of him and the march. Portraying his support for the platform of Marcela.

For every passing moment, he looked more like a caudillo than a general of a modern army. But well what was the fun in staying in the office and not going outside, making the largest fuss about your preferred candidate? If she won, then he was certain that he could level some influence into possible changes in the Melizean Republic.
Full Name: Rodrigo Alvarado Velasquez Quesquen
Age: 37
Brief Description & Background: He comes from a long lineage of military officers and such personalities. His grandfather was even dictator of the country for an about or month so until, he ceded power to another general as to not get stabbed in the back. His whole life was a sort of preparation to become a military official, climb through the ranks, get a nice secure position in society and allow for the next generation to repeat the same cycle. After all, the Velasquez. Of course, there were also some radicals within the family. Those who are labeled as undesirables and who don't respect the status quo. There is always one in each generation, a "revolutionary or progressive" by any other name.

Velasquez is one such Blacksheep and surprisingly enough, he is a left-leaning centrist general. One who believes that the country of Melizea requires extensive change, a revolution if one may say it out loud. A revolution that is bound to fix all the problems of the country and that it must be achieved through the strong hand of the military. After all, he believes deeply in the following motto about the army. "Any man could advance through the ranks due to merit being completely equal to those sharing his rank, obedient to those above him, and leader to those below him. The army was a school of patriotism and the officer corps a vanguard of civilizing agents"

Only time will tell if these deep thoughts will simply remain within him or if he will lead that change that the country needs in order to end corruption, poverty and social inequality.

Military or Civilian Background: Military [Hidden Modifier Attached]
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