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Obtaining New Peloponnese; ...or perhaps "Achaian Melzae"? Another day, another badly-planned white-space war.
Topic Started: Feb 26 2015, 08:16 AM (117 Views)
Mastropa
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

The bomber blasted through the cloud-covered night sky, relying on the poor visibility to disguise its approach for as long as the clouds cooperated. Behind it, the silhouettes of three more medium-range bombers were barely visible as they peeled off from their formation, seeking out their targets independently. Below them all, a swarm of fighters and attack craft kept pace to ward off any possible response from Melzae’s aging anti-air defenses and scrambling fighters, sending rockets and small bombs into minor military installations that the bombers simply bypassed. The Office of Military Affairs had advised against trying to be sneaky here: There were too few imported stealth bombers to do the job right, and it was simply too much to ask that any territory in the vicinity of the Achaian homelands would be caught off-guard by any attack at all. Instead, Logothetis Enyalios had recommended a heavy and, in his words, “inexorable” assault against the targeted territory, one that would demolish Melzae’s capability to regroup and counterattack before the Achaians could fortify their gains and obtain a diplomatic victory. That was, at least, the hope; but even if the plan failed, it would not be the first time that the Peloponnesian military had been bogged down in nearby foreign territory, and Anax Kerameikos had decreed that his grandfather’s plans would have no better opportunity than the one offered by Melzae’s weakness at that very moment.

So it was that fighters and attack craft kept the pressure up on the ground, while above the lead bomber continued on its path toward its primary target, one the two major airfields identified by the Office of Observation and Communication as the centers of local Melzaean air power in the area. Many of its fighters had taken off already, but Achaian interceptors were already facing them down, creating a confused mess of signals that prevented the remaining Melzaean radar stations from accurately tracking the signals flying above the fray. The closer that the bomber came to its target, of course, the less fighter cover it could rely on, as Achaian planes were diverted from the bomber’s path in order to take down (or be shot down by) their Melzaean opponents. It was only a matter of time before the bomber was flying with a minimal escort, its destination obvious to everyone.

Fortunately, it was only as the group arrived within striking distance of the airfield that the Melzaeans succeeded in attacking the bomber directly. Several truck-mounted missile batteries let loose at the bomber; secrecy nullified, the plane dove out of the clouds and released flares to cover itself, while firing its own air-to-ground rockets in retaliation. Two of the Melzaean missiles lost their target and flew on, but one of them regained its track and came back around as the bomber leveled out and made its final approach to the target. The bomb bay doors opened as the bomber reached the optimal distance to the air strip and the nearby hangars, and ordinance began to rain down upon the installation in great flashes of light and noise.

Almost in tandem with the last explosions on the ground, the bomber itself went up in flames as the anti-air missile that had followed it finally struck its target. The pilot and copilot immediately ejected, but their crewmates, sitting well behind the cockpit, were unable to escape before the bomber’s remains tumbled to the ground in a ball of fire. Planes and missiles streaked around the parachuting survivors, while periodic explosions below demonstrated that the few fighter-bombers that had flown this far with the rest of the fighter escort were still pounding the remains of the airfield into a fine dust. The Melzaean planes still in the air soon began to scatter, knowing that there were no reinforcements coming from the burning hangars and barracks beneath them; those that could easily be caught were brought down from behind, but the majority were allowed to escape in order to preserve the Achaians’ precious fuel.

Across southern Melzae, major targets went up in flames, with both airfields and two ground force garrisons being targeted by bomber runs while three railroad depots, four power stations, and two oil refineries were brought down by long-range missiles from Achaian destroyers out at sea. Closer to the point where the Achaian jets had flown over the Melzaean shore for the first time, fighter-bombers also destroyed several key sections of roadway leading into and out of the most important port in the area, while docks, both civilian and military, were damaged or destroyed up and down the coast to prevent the supply of goods from reaching the inhabitants. The Achaian commanders were understandably concerned about the Melzaean navy, the greater part of which was docked farther north than the battle plan called for the Achaians themselves to advance; however, the Achaian navy had positioned itself to block the Melzaeans if they chose to leave port, and there would at least be sufficient warning if things went badly for them before the men on the ground would be stranded in enemy territory.

And there were, of course, to be men on the ground. There were none yet; the battle plan called for a complete suppression of the enemy’s air power, coupled with systematically weakening Melzae’s shore defenses via attack jets and old-fashioned cannon blasts from the powerful guns of Achaian destroyers, before putting Achaian army personnel into harm’s way. By that time, the Megaron was confident that it would have some idea of just how tricky the coming campaign would be, and would be able to plan its ground assault accordingly.
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Mastropa
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

“Our casualties are within acceptable limits,” Logothetis Enyalios said, laying out the charts developed from the last hour’s reports from the front. “The heaviest casualties occurred in the air, as predicted. By the time our ground forces landed on shore, organized Melzaean resistance was mainly restricted to urban pockets. We have gained almost total control of the shore between Marlum and the Gabana River, and from Marlum to the cape. Our forces are moving inland under air cover, and specific targets are being shelled where appropriate from our destroyers offshore. Civilian casualties are—”

“Unimportant,” Anax Kerameikos interrupted, waving his hand dismissively as he eyed the reports on his desk without bothering to pick them up. “Unless you’re going to tell me that our soldiers are targeting civilians intentionally, Logothetis.” Enyalios shook his head, and the anax nodded with a smile. “Very good. I expect that your generals know better than to purposely antagonize the population any more than necessary.”

Enyalios nodded again. “Melzaean resistance in the attack zone is minimal and unorganized, with the exception of the militia in Marlum. We have surrounded the city, and have already damaged a great deal of vital infrastructure through offshore bombardment. The city can’t stand on its own, and will be forced to come to terms before it starves. We have no intention of entering the city at this time.”

Kerameikos nodded, before turning to another man sitting beside the Logothetis of Military Affairs. “Eleftherios,” he said, “how prepared are the Melzaeans to counterattack?”

The Logothetis of Observation and Communication glanced down at his own papers. “Not very, at the moment,” he answered. “Airfields outside of our zone of control are scrambling, but we understand that they don’t have accurate information about the losses they sustained last night, and are waiting to determine how much support they can expect before putting their planes in the air. Once they do, however, our forces will not be able to fight them with parity if they are still launching from the Peloponnese.”

“Our ground forces are only succeeding as well as they are at the moment due to our absolute air superiority,” Enyalios added. “If we lose that, we’ll be driven from Melzae by the sheer weight of numbers.”

Kerameikos frowned. “Begin bombarding the airfields with long-range missiles,” he ordered. “At the very least, we can keep them pinned down until we can effectively destroy them.” The anax eyed Enyalios sharply. “Can the air force succeed in such a mission without the element of surprise?”

The logothetis sighed. “It can, and it will,” he said, “but we will lose a lot more men and machines than we did last night. It will be bloody work.”

“But necessary,” Kerameikos replied with a nod. “See to it—”

A knock on the anax’s office door interrupted his orders. “Enter,” he called.

The door opened to reveal Kerameikos’s secretary, who attempted to hide a frown. “Sir,” she said, “the Lady is here to see you.”

Kerameikos sighed and nodded. “Show her in, please,” he said. Returning his attention to his logothetai, he said shortly, “Our business is concluded. Eleftherios, if you could see to it that Alexikakos is informed of our initial victories so that he can make an appropriate statement to the people…”

“Of course, sir,” the logothetis said, standing and bowing his head. Enyalios got to his feet and followed suit at the same time that the secretary returned, followed by a scowling woman wearing the ceremonial white-and-gold dress afforded to all priestesses of Makaria.

Kerameikos got to his feet. “Kifisia,” he greeted her.

The woman only nodded and stepped out of the doorway so that the logothetai could retreat without hindrance. The secretary, holding the door, waited for them to go, before bowing to the two who remained in the office and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Kifisia waited until she heard the latch click before directing her full attention to the anax. “Is there any word from our sons?” she asked.

Kerameikos frowned. “Of course there isn’t,” he said. “We have enough communications traffic going on between the Peloponnese and Melzae as it is; we can’t clutter up the signals with every soldier’s letters back home.”

“The sons of the anax are hardly ‘every soldier,’” Kifisia snapped. She strode up to Kerameikos’s desk and slammed her hands down. Leaning into the anax’s personal space, the woman hissed, “I told you two years ago to give this up. Involving the Peloponnese in some overseas adventure on behalf of foreigners—”

“Makarians.”

“Pretenders to the name!” Kifisia reached up to pull a medallion from the neckline of her dress. “Could you swear to me now, in the face of our goddess, that you truly believe in their conversion?”

Kerameikos eyed the miniature portrait of Makaria, which (as always) eyed him back sternly. “You know that I can’t do that,” he muttered.

“But you’ll send Achaians to their deaths for them regardless!” Kifisia tucked away the badge of her office, replacing Makaria’s glare with her own once again. “You’ll send our sons into foreign territory for the sake of a mad dream that was never meant to be! Makaria is our goddess! She protects our land! Never, not in the entire history of our people, has any anax put the Peloponnese at risk in her name! It’s a disgrace that my husband should be the first, and it will be a miracle bestowed by Makaria on your undeserving head if that disgrace doesn’t turn into a disaster!”

“Enough!” Kerameikos brought his fist down on the desk and rose to his feet. “Remember just who I am, Kifisia. Remember just whose name I bear. Do you think that I chose this path on a lark?!” The anax rounded his desk and grasped his wife’s shoulders. “My namesake nearly destroyed everything Vyronas built through military mismanagement. How could I have forgotten the consequences of that folly when every schoolmaster, every priest, every drill instructor who raised me up reminded me day after day that I must do better?” Kerameikos tightened his hands for a moment before letting go, turning to pace across the floor, giving vent to his feelings in movement. “My grandfather Koukaki declared all Makarians to be Achaian for his own reasons. He has left it to his descendents to fulfill his promises to the Council and to the people. You know better than anyone how often the presvyteroi have come to complain to me and my father about these foreigners living in the Peloponnese, contributing nothing to the Cult or to the people, and always demanding the land they had been promised… and still more arrive every day, even if it is nothing more than a trickle. The Cult wants them gone from the goddess’s land; who am I to argue with that?” The anax stopped and turned toward the wall facing the door to his office, where the map of Noverra took pride of place. “The Peloponnese contains a fraction—a large fraction, but a fraction nonetheless—of the Achaian people, Makarians and non. All of our people together could not hope to match the numbers of the nations that dominate this world. Anax Koukaki sought a means of evening the struggle, but it has left us with even more problems and almost no solutions. This expansion is truly the best option I could see.”

Kifisia watched her husband for a moment before she asked, “Best for the Achaian people? Or best for Anax Kerameikos?”

Kerameikos snorted as he turned back to her. “Can’t it be both?” he asked rhetorically. Kifisia said nothing, but her gaze spoke volumes. The anax shook his head and turned back to the map. “Melzae’s political turmoil has only recently had all of Noverra concerned about the future. I could no longer tolerate that place on the doorstep of the Peloponnese. And you said it yourself, Kifisia: Our new Makarians are insults to the name. Should Melzae one day return in strength and wrest these territories out of our control, who will fall into their hands? No one we will miss.”

Kifisia’s eyes narrowed. “Achaian sons and daughters are fighting for their goddess in a land she has no stake in, Kerameikos,” she reminded him. “Our sons are fighting to please their father. And yet you are already contemplating a day when all of their work and sacrifice is erased.”

“I am because I must,” Kerameikos answered. “I cannot imagine that all of our efforts will provide us with permanent rewards. But between this day and that one, our people will reap the benefits that our soldiers’ lives have bought.” The anax stepped forward and took Kifisia into his arms. “It is hard to accept, but the Cult knows it just as well as I do. Sometimes Achaians must die for the Peloponnese to survive. Love, this is one of those times.”

The priestess closed her eyes and leaned into her husband’s embrace. “Will you at least let me know when you hear from Cholargos? I know he’ll be able to bully someone into giving him some space on an official communication to give us news, just as much as we won’t hear a peep from Kamatero for as long as he thinks that it will hamper your work here…”

Kerameikos nodded. “I’ll let you know immediately,” he assured her. “I’m sure it won’t be long now.”
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

“Sir, reporting as requested.”

“Come in, strategos.” Kamatero stepped through the doorway into the spacious room, where three other high-ranking officers surrounded a table presided over by General Aigisthos, one of the anax’s more reliable commanders. The stately home now acting as their headquarters overlooked the city of Marlum, which sat at the branching of the Gabana River on its way into the Sundra Channel. On the other side of the city lay the channel itself, and beyond that, the Achaian homelands; Kamatero allowed himself to wonder if Aigisthos had taken this large-windowed room as his headquarters because it had a prime view of his objective, or because it faced his home on the other side of the sea.

The general waved Kamatero to a seat near his own, while the other officers quickly found chairs and settled in. “We’ll begin with the basics,” Aigisthos said bluntly. “The land war is continuing as we anticipated. We have air superiority thanks to the tenacity of our pilots, and our main force has encountered very few pockets of resistance that have remained intact after aerial bombardment. We are advancing beyond our intended final line for bargaining purposes, and are bringing in captives from all corners on a twenty-four hour basis.” Aigisthos nodded to one of the other officers in the room, a rear admiral who nodded back to the general amicably. “Our domestic fleet is currently patrolling the Sundra Channel to prevent any Melzaean ships from surprising us. A detachment is currently anchored opposite the city of Garium, where as far as we know a significant portion of the Melzaean navy is docked; we are bombarding it with every manner of gun and missile with moderate success. The city itself has so far suffered only minimal collateral damage, but the docks are completely destroyed, as we intended. We must thank Admiral Antipatros for his news in this regard.” The admiral nodded again.

Aigisthos turned from the admiral to Kamatero. “You may tell the anax that we are proceeding well here, strategos,” he concluded. “Nonetheless, when the Melzaeans begin their counterattack, we will almost certainly have to give up ground. I would be grateful if he can find a diplomatic solution to our current situation before it comes to that.”

Kamatero nodded. “The anax will be glad to hear it, sir,” he said. Looking around the table, he said, “All of you and all of your men are to be commended. Thank you all.”

The other men murmured their appreciation for Kamatero’s words, but General Aigisthos merely nodded back. “I see the men have been busy,” he said, nodding toward the window. “The camps look very impressive from here.” He looked pointedly at the younger man. “They also look very obvious to anyone with an interest in our activities here. I trust you have some idea in your head, strategos.”

“Yes, sir,” Kamatero answered. “Melzae is a large nation with a moderate international presence; we could not have hidden this action from Noverra for long, if at all. The powers will have an interest in the conclusion of this matter.” The strategos frowned slightly. “You know that they will have qualms about our colonization here. It is in our best interest to mitigate those qualms as much as possible.”

Aigisthos sighed. “I am unsure how we will be soothing any feathers by putting Melzaean captives into internment camps,” he said.

Kamatero’s frown deepened. “It’s a risk,” he admitted, “but it can be spun in the right way, as well. The camps are a secure location. Melzaeans living there are safer than Melzaeans anywhere else in the area—at least from us,” he added. “If the Melzaeans want to bomb their own people, that’s their own decision.”

The general eyed the strategos evenly. “Do you think the anax can make the rest of the world see it like that?”

“I believe he can,” Kamatero said firmly. “He knows better than to try to please everyone, but he will be able at least to persuade his allies. As long as they stand by us, he is confident that no one else will interfere.”

Aigisthos hummed to himself. “I will not second-guess the anax,” he said finally. “But if we publicize the capture of these people, we can’t expect to keep them. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I understand that our… colonists, I suppose, have been promised a lifestyle here akin to that of vasileis. Who will they rule over when they arrive and find the territory entirely empty?”

Kamatero shook his head. “The international community will see what it wants to see, sir,” he asserted. “We will only publicize the obvious: We have Melzaean prisoners, and will give them up at the conclusion of the war. When the war ends, we will publicize the release of Melzaean prisoners to Melzae, we will show the world empty camps, and foreign observers will believe the matter to be over.” The strategos leaned forward. “When the cameras leave, we can pull the half-million or so prisoners we’ve squirreled away out of hiding for our new colonists to lord it over. Any discrepancy in numbers will be put down to collateral damage and the fog of war, or else to Melzae’s poor bookkeeping. The human rights organizations might have something to say about it, but the people who matter can be persuaded to look the other way.”

Aigisthos stared at Kamatero. “I cannot believe that we will be able to hide a half-million people from the international community if we outright invite them into our war zone,” he said.

The strategos frowned again. “Sir, I assure you that the anax has no interest at all in inviting anyone into this territory. Officially, this has been an extension of the Peloponnese since midnight two mornings ago. Our policy regarding foreign influence in this territory cannot vary from the policy we enforce in the Peloponnese itself. All foreign interaction related to New Peloponnese will be directed to Kerkyra as always. It will be the Megaron’s own cameras that will provide stock footage to the world. Anything else will have to be obtained from afar. I only say that it will be impossible to hide our activities completely. This is the best compromise, sir, and even the number of prisoners I have proposed is variable based on matters here on the ground, and at the negotiation table.” Kamatero shrugged his shoulders. “Once the war is over and our forces pull out, the colonists will field their own home guard, as befits full Achaian citizens under Makaria’s guidance. And if, after that time, someone should discover Melzaean prisoners in New Peloponnese… that will be the problem of the New Peloponnesians, won’t it?”

“The anax will still rule New Peloponnese,” Aigisthos pointed out.

“Indirectly,” Kamatero replied, “and grudgingly at that. Any foreigner implicated in the enslavement of captured Melzaeans is clearly working contrary to the ideals of Makaria and the Achaian people; the anax would have no choice but to revoke his claim on New Peloponnese and apologize to Melzae and the world. I assure you, sir, that the anax is willing to do that, rather than be drawn into a long-term war against Melzae and any backers it might accumulate in that time. Cutting loose falsely-converted foreigners will be more than preferable.”

The general frowned sharply. “We would abandon everything our men have fought and died for at that point,” he growled.

“No, sir,” answered Kamatero. “Our men have blunted Melzae’s ability to wage war; regardless of the conclusion of this war, or of a decision taken later, that much will always remain true. Even if the Peloponnese later resigns its suzerainty over New Peloponnese, Melzae will still be forced to accept a buffer of semi-Makarians between itself and our people; or else it will be forced to fight them, perhaps to the death, on its own. The threat that Melzae might pose to the Peloponnese is forever lessened. Your men should take pride in that, sir, regardless of how long we possess this land as a consequence.”

General Aigisthos and the other officers eyed Kamatero for a long moment. Finally the general nodded his head. “I will of course accept the anax’s word,” he acknowledged. His eyes narrowed after a second. “Is there any word on how soon we can expect negotiations to begin?”

“Not as of yet, sir,” Kamatero answered, “but rest assured that it is the highest priority now to bring Melzae to the bargaining table as quickly as possible. We expect that learning about the internment of Melzaean captives will prod our opponents to sue for peace as quickly as possible.”

Aigisthos nodded. “We expect something similar, as well,” he said. He turned toward the window again. “As I have reported before, Marlum is currently cut off from all outside aid. Please emphasize to the anax that the lives of its inhabitants also depend entirely on the outcome of the upcoming negotiations.”

The strategos smiled. “I will be sure to inform him, sir,” he said.
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

The Achaian military had acquired a reputation for spreading news extremely slowly. It was often more than one’s career was worth to spread about the wrong bit of gossip, and as such, most officers were trained to keep their lips sealed about information that was not for public consumption, at least if it didn’t directly affect their own unit. This sometimes had the unfortunate side effect of putting certain units in unenviable situations that they could have avoided if they’d been better informed, but on the whole, the situation worked out quite nicely. No one outside the military, and very few people within it, could be expected to know about any given operation until the hammer had already fallen, and that was just the way that the military preferred it.

There was one exception to this rule, of course: the Megaron itself. Officers had standing orders to report literally everything that deviated from their standard routine to their political liaisons, who decided on the spot which news was worthy of sending on to their masters in the Office of Internal Observation. Understandably, this was one of the most sensitive duties in the military, and it was entrusted only to the most trusted within the Megaron’s ranks, which usually meant that those dependent entirely on the anax’s patronage obtained positions as liaisons. The Megaron therefore expected to be reasonably informed about its military’s activities at any given time.

So it was that Anax Kerameikos met again with several logothetai in his office, including Enyalios, Diaktoros, and the ever-somber Logothetis Agesilaos of the Office of Internal Observation. Kerameikos’s attention was focused more importantly on Enyalios and Agesilaos than on their companion; Diaktoros didn’t seem nervous or troubled, which meant that the international community had so far said nothing about the current matter. And in that case, the anax wanted to get that report out of the way as quickly as possible. “Logothetis, if you would.”

Diaktoros nodded. “It’s as you might imagine, sir,” he said. “According to Eleftherios in Observation and Communication, Melzae is sending missives everywhere it can possibly think to send them. But the international community is either entirely ignoring them, or they’re not reaching their recipients. It is my belief that the Powers are focusing their attention on Victorium at this time, especially after Izalith’s move into Austianese waters was followed almost immediately by chaos in the Legantian. Anyone interested in Izalith’s sphere of influence, either in support or in the hopes of containing it, likely has their eyes in that direction.” The logothetis glanced over at the nearby map of Noverra before adding, “And of course, Legantus isn’t alone. Noverran nations across the map seem to be falling into some low-level chaos at the moment. In all that violence, and amongst all the threats of further violence, Melzae is simply unable to muster any support at the moment—or at least, it hasn’t mustered any vocal support.”

Kerameikos smiled. “Then let’s take as much advantage of this situation as we can,” he said. Turning to the other two logothetai, he asked, “Can you confirm my understanding that we have achieved our short-term objectives?”

Logothetis Enyalios nodded. “We have obtained more than enough land to negotiate with, sir,” he said. “The siege of Marlum continues, and we expect to see serious disturbances within the city as food supplies disappear. The countryside has been all but emptied. Everyone who has not already fled has been placed into eight city-sized camps; we are currently supplying them with everything necessary for survival.”

“For now.”

“For now,” agreed the logothetis.

Kerameikos nodded. “What about that bit of the population that we have chosen to… keep out of Melzae’s focus?” he asked, turning to Logothetis Agesilaos.

“We have transferred twenty thousand ‘refugees’ from the Melzaean subcontinent to Suran,” Agesilaos said promptly. “They began arriving by ship yesterday evening and will continue to arrive under the cover of our current naval patrols. I have directed some agents to express our appreciation for the aid that Vasilefs Pagkrati has provided through the temporary grant of his land for this arrangement.”

“And I’m sure you also expressed the Megaron’s intention that these people be moved back to Melzae in a short space of time, and that they were not for Thesprotia’s labor consumption,” Kerameikos said meaningfully. Agesilaos nodded, and the anax leaned back in satisfaction. “Excellent. Now…” His voice became hard. “What are these reports that you have given me, Agesilaos? Enyalios?”

It was the Logothetis of Military Affairs who answered the question. “As you can see, sir, our landing party on Lakshadweep Island was surprised by the arrival of a small Melzaean naval detachment.”

“I see that my son was placed in danger by incomplete intelligence,” Kerameikos growled. “To say nothing of the Achaians we lost aboard those two cruisers we lost in the scuffle. How did we not know these ships were present?”

Enyalios squirmed slightly, but pressed on regardless: “We provided Strategos Cholargos with accurate warnings about the likelihood of resistance in this area,” the logothetis defended himself. “I personally wrote the report, which reached him intact and sealed. Although we were not aware of any Melzaean naval strength in the area, the entire military is aware that we are still in the dark as to the location of much of the fleet. This news went to the strategos too, sir. I maintain that my office was not negligent in its duties.”

Kerameikos looked to Agesilaos; Enyalios visibly refrained from following the anax’s gaze as it fell on perhaps the most trusted, and certainly the most feared, logothetis of the Megaron. “It is as he says, sir,” Agesilaos answered the unasked question. “Strategos Cholargos blundered into a Melzaean detachment through negligence on his own part.” No one else would have dared say it so bluntly.

The anax took it as well as he could when it came from Agesilaos’s lips. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and grumbled, “I shall make a point of speaking to him, then. It is unconscionable to waste Achaian lives through unnecessary bravado.” Sighing again, he returned his gaze to Enyalios. “Your report says that the landing itself was successful, at least.”

“Yes, sir,” the logothetis said, withholding his sigh of relief. “The strategos was able to chase away with Melzaeans and sank a destroyer and two frigates in return for our own losses. As of our last report, he has stationed the majority of his task force in front of the landing site and begun scouting the local area with helicopter and VTOL patrols; he has requested additional air support from the mainland, as well. The strategos claims that he wished to avoid stumbling into a trap by chasing the enemy into unknown waters, while the landing party remained undefended on the beach.”

“Which of course lost him any hope of finding the rest of the Melzaean fleet, assuming it was ever in the area in force, until it chooses to show itself again,” Kerameikos said glumly. He gave another sigh. “Very well, then. Our objectives remain unchanged, with the exception of Lakshadweep; we shall concentrate air patrols in that area from now on to ensure that our landing party is not entirely isolated when the task force is required to return to port. See to it, Enyalios.” The logothetis nodded sharply. “For the rest, I will open negotiations with Melzae very shortly. I have no intention of seeing more of our people dead over this matter than must be killed within the next week.” He rose, and the logothetai quickly followed suit as he made his way to the door of his office. “As long as your duties allow, I would appreciate it if you were to accompany me to chapel,” he said. “My son’s mistake has cost us Achaian lives; let us pray that Makaria treats their colleagues more graciously.”

“Yes, sir,” the logothetai chorused behind him.
Edited by Mastropa, Mar 12 2015, 04:20 AM.
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Zinovios Mesolongias, Epistatis

Strategos Kamatero stepped into General Aigisthos’s commandeered study once again, nodding back as the commanding officer waved him to a nearby seat. “I understand that you have news from the Megaron,” the general said.

“Yes, sir,” Kamatero began. “The Office of Internal Observation has confirmed that it has set up enough camps for the immediate needs of those we have shipped to Thesprotia. Logothetis Agesilaos has already informed the anax, and will continue to monitor the situation there. There will be no losses on that side of matters, regardless of the situation here.”

“Excellent.” General Aigisthos handed the strategos a sheet of note paper, on which he had scribbled liberally. “I have been in contact with General Nagi of the Ahwazi armed forces; he is acting as the liaison between our two armies at the moment. Ahwaz has begun its advance into Melzae’s northwest; we can be sure that Melzae’s headquarters is already aware of the incursion. I have already ordered our men at the front lines to dig in and prepare for a Melzaean counterattack, in case the top brass over there decides that it needs to finish one war before it can turn and fight another. Fortunately, reports from the front suggest that the Melzaean high command is sending mixed signals to its troops. As of right now, we believe that Melzae has chosen to hold Ahwaz back at the expense of weakening their defenses against us, just as we had hoped.”

Kamatero nodded. “That is certainly convenient, sir,” he said.

“Exceptionally,” Aigisthos agreed, “but not as convenient as we’d like, of course. The Melzaeans are incompetent, but not entirely stupid. They have left quite a bundle of men behind, and said bundle has retained the heaviest weapons, considering the trouble that they would otherwise go through in attempting to move those weapons hundreds of miles north. We are left with fewer men handling just as many deadly weapons as the larger number otherwise would.”

The strategos sighed. “We at least have the promise of air support,” he said. “The Office of Military Affairs has confirmed that we now have a quarter of the operable air force on New Peloponnesian soil. Our range is greatly extended by that alone. If we find it absolutely necessary, we have the range to take out targets in the capital now.”

“Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.” The general leaned back. “I have already sent orders to the air fields to ready as many attack craft and fighters as possible, so this information is definitely welcome. The men at the front have only been told to prepare for a Melzaean surge, but their officers are aware that they must be ready to advance at a moment’s notice. As soon as the planes are in the air, I will give that order.” Aigisthos eyed Kamatero evenly. “I hope the anax realizes just what kind of bloodbath will be awaiting us all if he doesn’t bring the Melzaeans to terms within the week.”

Kamatero closed his eyes, thinking back to his last communication with his father, and the grim sound of his voice as he considered the possibility of failure. “The anax is aware, sir,” he promised. “Very aware.”
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“Casualties are running over a thousand at the moment, sir,” Logothetis Enyalios said, laying out the reports in his hands as Anax Kerameikos looked on. “The Melzaean positions retained the majority of their defenses. They were more lightly manned, but the remainder were not caught off guard.”

Kerameikos nodded grimly. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” he growled. “Have we made any headway?”

The logothetis laid down a blown-up map up the front line and pointed to some specific arrows. “Our attack jets have succeeded in clearing the way for a proper incursion behind the Melzaean lines. We have also landed additional troops through an amphibious assault fifty miles northeast of the line, which resulted in the capture of a nearby airfield; we have been moving troops via transport plane for the last six hours. Our northeastern expansion has put two additional cities under our control. Again, we will not enter them unless absolutely necessary, but have chosen instead to cut off all communication between them and the outside world.”

“This is all good news on the surface,” the anax said. “But I can only assume that these are only short-term gains.”

Enyalios nodded. “The arrival of the Ahwazi military has shocked the Melzaeans, just as our original invasion did,” he said. “They will have to reconsider their current strategy. However, even Ahwaz will be unable to drive too deeply into Melzae before their advance stalls against the weight of numbers. For our own part, we believe we will reach that point within the next day or so.” The logothetis again pointed to points on the map in front of the anax. “Our current goal is to establish a new line here. If we advance beyond this line, we risk setting up supply routes in territories that will be obvious targets for a Melzaean counterattack. As it stands, even if we establish this line, we anticipate a more severe counterattack than anything Melzae has sent at us thus far.” The logothetis looked intently at the anax. “We need a diplomatic solution as soon as humanly possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kerameikos assured the other man. He glanced over at Logothetis Eleftherios. “The Office of Observation and Communication will be tasked with establishing communications between the Peloponnese and Melzae within twenty-four hours. I’m depending on your efforts, Logothetis.”

“We will not fail you, sir,” Eleftherios replied firmly. “If Melzae will not speak with us, we will ensure nonetheless that they listen.” Then he added, “The lives of the Marlumites depend on it.”

“Among others,” agreed the anax. He glanced at the larger map hanging on his office wall, where he could imagine the shifting battle lines, both in the south among the Achaians, and in the northwest among the Ahwazi. “Report back if you have any trouble at all,” he said after a moment. “If we become desperate, we have options available, but I would prefer not to bother with anything messy at this time. We are already skirting the boundaries of international tolerance.”

“Yes, sir.”
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