RM Vol 4: War – Interlude: Non-state Actors – EditV1
"You're firing ?" Dana Elvidge, trusted confidant of the Ustian Loyalist Pri Minister and an undercover ONI spy, says with a raised eyebrow. It doesn't stop her from presenting her (forr?) boss with a fresh cup of tea. "I must admit, I didn't expect to end my shift with a layoff notice."
The Pri Minister graciously accepts the cup of tea, taking a sip before gesturing to the twilight outside his office window.
"Well, circumstances pushed to make a prompt decision regarding your employnt. As you can see, Paris is being thrown out of whack with how we keep sending generations of n to the battlefield. The remaining citizens are either displeased or scared that they're being squeezed dry by the very governnt they used to trust. Now that the people know that we're losing badly due to so 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 Pri 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 Pri Minister turns around to push a suitcase across the table to Dana. "Contained 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 Pri Minister's employnt 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 Pri Minister has given her a case of valuable tals, jewelry, new identities, and even so overseas real estate. "I will humbly accept the remuneration then, since you have specifically asked to not refuse. However, Pri Minister, are you sure that this won't inconvenience you in any way?"
The Pri Minister waves an arm in reassurance.
"Bah! Who else will press charges against 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 loneso is truly unwise."
A knock interrupts their conversation, prompting the Pri Minister to say. "Ah, that must be the one we need. Co in!"
"Excuse ." The door is opened, and a soldier bearing the rank of Lieutenant steps in. "Good evening, Pri Minister and Lady Elvidge."
The Pri Minister nods at the Lieutenant.
"Dana, you've t Donovan here a few tis before. Henceforth, he and his n shall accompany you until you have settled sowhere 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 so nial 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 Pri 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 the chance of spreading so good through you, Dana."
"... I understand." Dana nods, seeing no point in refusing the Pri Minister's offer. Her job as a spy in the heart of Paris is pretty much done anyway. "What about you, Pri Minister? Shouldn't you leave as well?"
The Pri Minister responds cryptically. "I have my arrangents, 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 Pri 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 Pri Minister see one another as a cherished friend, although neither will admit it outright. When Dana walks out of the Pri 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 Pri Minister granted her, Dana's vision turns Southward. With ample resources on her hands, the forr 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 little of good in Dana's opinion. Given that Dana is holding onto a deed of land in Libya, she needs only to exchange so money using the jewelry the Pri Minister gifted her to build the school and a self-sustaining environnt 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 Pri 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 ho... No, saying that is not right...
The Pri Minister only dedicates his life to a single person, not a nation.
Had Dana been there twenty years ago, the Pri 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. Ti has marched on, and the corpse of the Pri 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 Pri Minister, and by extension, his maddening quest to see Erusea fall.
Now that the Pri Minister doesn't have to worry about anything else, however, it's ti for him to embark on the next crucial step of his dragon-slaying quest. Under the cover of the night, the Pri Minister makes his way to the quarter of the reigning King of the Loyalist faction. A re 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 aningful in the future, even if he could stop being a puppet dancing along the Pri 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 Pri Minister's advance altogether, the Pri 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 Pri Minister sees the Puppet King and his caretaker. Instead of bowing in respect, the Pri Minister exudes a calm appearance, only offering a polite nod.
"Anatolia. Kid."
"Pri Minister." Co the terse replies from both of them.
Looking around the sparsely decorated room, barely qualified to serve a common noble, the Pri Minister notices so 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 mont's notice. The Pri 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 n like the Pri Minister spewing their saliva all over the floor in shouting matches anymore."
The Pri 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 has willingly allowed himself to be manipulated by the Pri Minister, so long as he could experience the feeling of having a mother to watch over him. It's sothing that Princess Rosa Bonaparte noticed years ago, but what could she do back then? Now, to accomplish the Pri Minister's dastardly wish, the Puppet King has to 'die'.
Anatolia, the King's surrogate mother in all but na, asks the Pri Minister this.
"What happens if circumstances change along the way? We're bringing very few security units for his protection."
The Pri Minister calmly replies with a raised eyebrow.
"We may be slightly past our pri, but it doesn't an 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 Arican continent. Besides, you're an actress, Anatolia, you will adapt just fine."
Anatolia looks down slightly before turning to gaze at the Puppet King aningfully.
"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 Pri 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 Guillau?" 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 Pri 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 Guillau 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 lip in regret before putting on the facade of the Puppet King's mother once more.
The Pri 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 Guards loyal to the Pri 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 Pri Minister, however, chooses to go back to his private mansion. Much like Anatolia's contingent, the Pri Minister also disguises himself, using tricks from a ti 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 Pri 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 Pri Minister adopts a businessman's attire, complete with a top hat. Bringing with him a briefcase containing the beginning of his new identity, the Pri Minister uses a tunnel passage, hidden behind a fireplace, to escape from any prying eyes. Midway through the tunnel, the Pri Minister convenes with another group of Royal Guards. Nodding at their leader, the Pri Minister speaks with an Arican accent.
"From this mont onwards, we are non-state actors. No flag, no colors. We continue the fight until the last vestige of the Kingdom of Erusea is subsud 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 n walking, am I clear?"
"CRYSTAL!"
As if on cue, the forr Pri 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 forr Pri Minister muses.
"So Guillau has staged his false flag operation. Going by the clock back in the mansion, then he's right on ti." Looking back at his compatriots, the forr Pri Minister then muses. "Co on now, my friends. We have to disappear before Guillau 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 forr Pri 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 soone has seen the bleeding corpses of the Puppet King, his caretaker, and the Pri 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 cos 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 have co and attacked 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 has collapsed 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 save them all.
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