Reich Marshal of the Belkan Reich

RM Vol 4: War – Interlude: Non-state Actors

"You're firing me?" Dana Elvidge, trusted confidant of the Ustian Loyalist Prime Minister and an undercover ONI spy, says with a raised eyebrow. It doesn't stop her from presenting her (formerly?) boss with a fresh cup of tea. "I must admit, I didn't expect to end my shift with a layoff notice."

The Prime Minister graciously accepts the cup of tea, taking a sip before gesturing to the twilight outside his office window.

"Well, circumstances pushed me to make a prompt decision regarding your employment. As you can see, Paris is being thrown out of wack with how we keep sending generations of men to the battlefield. The remaining citizens are either displeased or scared that they're being squeezed dry by the very government they used to trust. Now that the people know that we're losing badly due to some Belkan leaflets, the negative emotions are way over the roof. The common populace is either seeking refuge with the Adventurers' Guild or hiring escorts to flee elsewhere. Those who seek neither option are either incapable of doing so or are waiting to stir up trouble when the Belkans and Reformists get here."

Overlooking the deserted streets of Paris, the Loyalist Prime Minister nurses the cup in his hands, uncaring that it's still hot.

"You got a good life ahead of you, Dana. Get off the sinking ship which is Paris while you still can." The Prime Minister turns around to push a suitcase across the table to Dana. "Contain inside is the severance pay and bonuses to keep you afloat till you can achieve your dream. No take-back, accept it, and go wherever you want. That said, if you don't know where to start your new life, there are a couple of suggestions inside the bag."

Knowing that she's not under the Prime Minister's employment anymore, Dana doesn't stand on courtesy and calmly opens up the suitcase. What she sees inside gives the undercover agent a mild shock.

"This is... Very generous of you, sir." Instead of money, the Prime Minister has given her a case of valuable metals, jewelry, new identities, and even some overseas real estate. "I will humbly accept the remuneration then

since you have specifically asked me to not refuse. However, Prime Minister, are you sure that this won't inconvenience you in any way?"

The Prime Minister waves an arms in reassurance.

"Bah! Who else will press charges against me nowadays? Most of the nobles are already out of the country and the high-ranking civil officials are on the way to join them. Besides, the things inside there are paid out of my pocket. You have nothing to fear, Dana. That said, a girl carrying precious cargo by her lonesome is truly unwise."

A knock interrupts their conversation, prompting the Prime Minister to say. "Ah, that must be the one we need. Come in!"

"Excuse me." The door is opened, and a soldier bearing the rank of Lieutenant steps in. "Good evening, Prime Minister and Lady Elvidge."

The Prime Minister nods at the Lieutenant.

"Dana, you've met Donovan here a few times before. Henceforth, he and his men shall accompany you until you have settled somewhere safe. The boys are ordered to follow your very words as if you're their Captain, so don't be shy on requesting them to do some menial labor if you need."

Dana can't help but say. "I can understand the caution, but I find it slightly overwhelming with how you're sponsoring my future, sir."

The Prime Minister shrugs. "Consider it an unruly wish of an old guard, trying to set up his young for a smooth sailing life then. Don't deny me the chance of spreading some good through you, Dana."

"... I understand." Dana nods, seeing no point in refusing the Prime Minister's offer. Her job as a spy in the heart of Paris is pretty much done anyway. "What about you, Prime Minister? Shouldn't you leave as well?"

The Prime Minister responds cryptically. "I have my arrangements, don't worry. Now go, Dana, otherwise you will miss the train outta here. Lieutenant Donovan, you keep her clear out of trouble, you hear?"

While the Loyalist Lieutenant salutes the Prime Minister, Dana bows at the man in the chair with a sincere expression. Truthfully, despite the professionalism required by their lines of work, Dana and the Prime Minister see one another as a cherished friend, although neither will admit it outright. When Dana walks out of the Prime Minister's office with her suitcase of valuables, she gives up not just her life as an undercover agent but also the acquaintances, friends, and life, she has carved for herself in the last few years. Whether Dana will see any of them again in the future is up to fate.

Having been undercover for so long, Dana wishes to close this chapter of her story and start a new one. Initially, Dana considered heading to China after she retired from ONI. However, due to the severance pay and bonuses the Prime Minister granted her, Dana's vision turns Southward. With ample resources on her hands, the former spy is thinking about constructing a school down in Africa. Dana knows that, despite the best efforts of the Spanish Inquisition, their African colonies are still dealing with widespread illiteracy and antiquated knowledge. Erecting a charity school down there will do more than just a lot of good in Dana's opinion. Given that Dana is holding onto a deed of land in Libya, she needs only to exchange some money using the jewelry the Prime Minister gifted her with to build the school and a self-sustaining environment around it. Operating a school will be hard, but not impossible, and Dana is not a weak-willed woman to give up on her desire at the first sign of a setback.

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Watching Dana disappear into a car prepared by Lieutenant Donovan, the Prime Minister sighs tiredly. There's a tinge of regret filling his core at having to let go of the talent that is Dana Elvidge. Were it twenty years ago, he would have offered to recruit her, sparing no expenses to further the interest of the country that once was his home... No, saying that is not right...

The Prime Minister only dedicates his life to a single person, not a nation.

Had Dana been there twenty years ago, the Prime Minister thinks that she would make a great friend for his liege. Perhaps with Dana around, things wouldn't have ended badly for her. Alas, this is all wistful thinking. Time has marched on, and the corpse of the Prime Minister's liege is no more than ash, scattered into the wind. Dana herself deserves an opportunity to spread her wings, rather than tying her fate to the Prime Minister, and by extension, his maddening quest to see Erusea fall.

Now that the Prime Minister doesn't have to worry about anything else, however, it's time for him to embark on the next crucial step of his dragon-slaying quest. Under the cover of the night, the Prime Minister makes his way to the quarter of the reigning King of the Loyalist faction. A mere kid with no notable skill or negative trait, the younger brother of Princess Rosa Bonaparte is a true Average One among a generation comprised of monstrous geniuses. It's doubtful that the kid will be able to accomplish anything meaningful in the future, even if he could stop being a puppet dancing along the Prime Minister's strings.

It's not like the kid will even have a chance at a continuing reign anyway.

Stepping past the Royal Guards that ignore the Prime Minister's advance altogether, the Prime Minister pushes open the heavy door and boldly intrudes upon the young King's room. It's in the kid's minimally furnished bedroom that the Prime Minister sees the Puppet King and his caretaker. Instead of bowing in respect, the Prime Minister exudes a calm appearance, only offering a polite nod.

"Anatolia. Kid."

"Prime Minister." Come the terse replies from both of them.

Looking around the sparsely decorated room, barely qualified to serve a common noble, the Prime Minister notices some suitcases and bags packed with necessities by the foot of the bed. As expected, the Puppet King and his caretaker are dressed in civilian clothing, ready to abscond elsewhere at a moment's notice. The Prime Minister nods.

"Good, seeing that you two are ready. I will have the guards outside escort you out of the castle, using the shift change as a cover. Any further questions?"

The kid, barely old enough to understand the seriousness of the situation, looks toward his caretaker for input. The caretaker, a maid in her thirties, pats the Puppet King's hair with a caring smile.

"Don't worry, my child. Trust us to take you away to a life of simplicity and happiness. You need not see old men like the Prime Minister spewing their saliva all over the floor in shouting matches anymore."

The Prime Minister harrumps at the sudden jab. "Low blow, Anatolia. I will have you know that I am still a sprying man."

The Puppet King, however, opts for an amused giggle at his caretaker's joke. Finally, he nods, entrusting his future into the hand of the maid. Ever since a young age, the Puppet King willingly allows himself to be manipulated by the Prime Minister, so long as he can experience the feeling of having a mother to watch over him. It's something that Princess Rosa Bonaparte noticed years ago, but what could she do back then? Now, to accomplish the Prime Minister's dastardly wish, the Puppet King has to 'die'.

Anatolia, the King's surrogate mother in all but name, asks the Prime Minister this.

"What happens if circumstances change along the way? We're bringing very few security units for his protection."

The Prime Minister calmly replies with a raised eyebrow.

"We may be slightly past our prime, but it doesn't mean that we are useless. Our training and experience are still there and even improved after all these years of hiding in the dark. There won't be anything stopping us from bringing you two to settle down on the American continent. Besides, you're an actress, Anatolia, you will adapt just fine."

Anatolia looks down slightly before turning to gaze at the Puppet King meaningfully.

"No more looking back from this point on, my child. Tomorrow, it will be a brand new adventure for the both of us."

The Puppet King nods, his eyes glinting in anticipation of the future.

The Prime Minister gestures his head to the doorway.

"Vincenzo and his unit are under your command from here on out. Keep your heads down low, and you should be just fine. Pray that we will never cross paths again, eh?"

"What about Guillaume?" Anatolia asks while picking up the travel essentials, passing the smallest of them all to the Puppet King. "Couldn't we think of any other way?"

The Prime Minister sighs with a tinge of helplessness.

"You know as well as I do that it was your brother's choice. This is a fate that Guillaume and the rest picked with their free wills. At the very least, they will go down swinging and pulling the rest of Erusea down with them."

"... I understand." Anatolia bites her lower lips in regret before putting on the facade of the Puppet King's mother once more.

The Prime Minister nods at that before heading outside, and with him are Anatolia and the Puppet King. The latter, however, is taken out of the castle unnoticed by a group of Royal Guard loyal to the Prime Minister alone. Disguised as the castle's staff, the Royal Guards then lead the two VIPs to a private warehouse to put on a fresh set of disguises. Ultimately, Anatolia and the Puppet King board the last train out of Paris along with their undercover guards. The Prime Minister, however, chooses to back to his private mansion. Much like Anatolia's contingent, the Prime Minister also disguises himself, using tricks from a time long gone.

A simple fake jaw, a pair of glasses, a change of hairstyle, and the addition of a well-applied set of beard, have changed the overall facial features of the Prime Minister quite well. The man then switches out of his elevator shoes for a set of normal, gentlemanly ones, his stature and walking gait change as a result. To build up his persona, the Prime Minister adopts a businessman's attire, complete with a top hat. Bringing with him a briefcase containing the beginning of his new identity, the Prime Minister uses a tunnel passage, hidden behind a fireplace, to escape from any prying eyes. Midway through the tunnel, the Prime Minister convenes with another group of Royal Guards. Nodding at their leader, the Prime Minister speaks with an American accent.

"From this moment onwards, we are non-state actors. No flag, no colors. We continue the fight until the last vestige of the Kingdom of Erusea is subsumed or wiped off the face of this planet. Betrayal results in death. Being captured results in death. There's no coward among us, only dead men walking, am I clear?"

"CRYSTAL!"

As if on cue, the former Prime Minister and Royal Guards hear a commotion from above the tunnel. Muffled as they may be, it's no doubt the sound of gunshots and alarms ringing all over Paris. The former Prime Minister muses.

"So Guillaume has staged his false flag operation. Going by the clock back in the mansion, then he's right on time." Looking back at his compatriots, the former Prime Minister then muses. "Come on now, my friends. We have to disappear before Guillaume brings down the entire castle upon Paris. We have much to do to avenge our blood debt."

Fading away in the dark of the tunnel, the former Prime Minister slips out of Paris with none the wiser. What the rest of Paris does know is that they're under attack by an unknown force. The Royal Castle is being assaulted right after the shift change, causing much mayhem as the Loyalist soldiers are caught off guard. In the ensuing chaos, rumors and reports are flying around that someone sees the bleeding corpses of the Puppet King, his caretaker, and the Prime Minister himself. However, before the validity of the information can be verified, hidden explosive charges detonate all over the castle. In a blazing blast of fury, Paris's symbol of monarchy comes crumbling down on top of the fighting between the Loyalists and the unknown forces. Everything happens so fast that the citizens of Paris think what happens is but an acid trip. Words have it that the Belkans come and attack them, but when the city walls report that the horizon is still clear, people start talking and speculating. Words float in the underground that the castle collapses due to infighting, others are citing acts of sabotage, but it doesn't change the fact Paris faces yet another sleepless night. Now that the ultimate fate of their leadership hangs in the balance, the prospect of this war grows even darker than black for the people of Paris.

This war may as well be over for the Loyalists by tomorrow... God saves them all.