Sovereign

“The Larissan Confederacy has now officially annexed multiple ‘Vanguard Republics’ in the former Order Pact into the revolutionary state. Chancellor Pyotr Kerensky has declared that it is a time of ‘great unity’ between ‘equal member-states’ inside of the Confederation. All of these Republics are said to have been granted great autonomy and privileges as major member-states of the Confederation, but this has been cast in doubt due to a lack of referendums in these former independent Kingdoms. The exiled monarchies have now lodged it as a criminal offense and ‘illegitimate’, and the Mandate of Nations rejects any expansion of the Confederacy. Princess Anastasia Illyenov has also rejected the idea of the territories of Larissa’s fallen allies being ‘annexed illegally’.”

- Geopol Press

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Confederation of Larissa

Velikov City

May 10, 2025

“Unity, President Rimpler, unity,” the gruff, forty-year-old Larissan man, Chancellor Pyotr Kerensky replied to Rimpler as the two took their seats. The room of the Chancellor’s office was quite barebones, Rimpler noted. Unlike the Executor Building and his office which had a wide view of Eirhow City that allowed Rimpler to better envision the future of the Federal Republic—that of a grand, equal, republican, strong, and technologically advanced and oriented Orland, the Chancellor’s office only offered a serene view of the river Lieper.

Rimpler smiled a bit, but inside, he was pissed. Quite frankly, even with the Federal Navy ferrying him with their Weirlöff-Class nuclear attack submarine, it still took time. Time which he didn’t have when he needed to get up close and personal with his allies’ leadership. And heavens be damned, being underwater for weeks was painful business.

Now, he was dealing with another painful business

“Look, you just annexed CFN-member states,” Rimpler replied. “Without even consulting us. Or Asturia. Or Hebei.”

“President Rimpler, I profess,” the Chancellor said. “I don’t like you, Orlishmen, but our patience is…endless,” the Chancellor leaned back a bit to show the river Lieper, and President Rimpler nodded. “Look, none of you in Opellia understands the situation here in the east. Here, we rule by control—”

“That’s the state of affairs everywhere.”

“And those Republics were going against our control,” he added. “They have been questioning our military deployments. Hampering our logistical lines with delays and red tape. Unacceptable. Not when the great revolution is ongoing. Hence, we persuaded them to join our glorious union.”

“You sent tanks into their capitals and asked them if they were on the racket or not.”

“Still technically falls under persuasion,” Pyotr smiled. “Plus, you did the same in Lieplatz. If Orland can have a bite of its northern neighbor, why can’t Larissa?”

“East Lieplatz will have a transitional government soon,” Rimpler said. “Look, we didn’t annex them.”

“But functionally you did. You just marked them as a ‘special military administrative zone’,” the Larissan emphasized its designation. “Look, we’re men here, Mr. Rimpler. Let’s not do what women do to each other. The truth of why you did it, and why we did it is for one reason. Our interests. Now, would you, our great revolutionary brother, go against the interests of your ally? We did not make much noise when you ate Lieplatz. We praised you during that expedition of yours. Oh, it would please us greatly if you do the same.”

“We’ll do just that,” Rimpler conceded. “The CFN needs to look…united.”

“Exactly,” Pyotr’s laugh grew. “Especially now that those women, those…wicked women, they’re trying to do everything to dismantle everything we worked for. I tell you what, Mr. Rimpler, when we said in the halls of the MN general assembly that we won’t be gone until all is ashes, I agree with that. It’s either the global matriarchy falls, or the world falls.”

“Right.”

“That’s why I ask you,” his laughter stopped. “Permit us to use both persistent and non-persistent chemical weaponry. Now. The Gallian front is proving tougher than we have expected.”

Rimpler didn’t like this one bit. While he had no problems with the idea of chemical warfare himself, and using it for his means, he knew the CFN would look bad if they used it first. Quite frankly, the last time they used non-persistent chemical weapons against the treacherous Queen’s forces during the Grand Duchy Campaign, it didn’t pan out very well.

Short term, it certainly aided his forces on the ground in conducting an armored breakthrough. It allowed the Army to break through the static system of trench lines dug in deeply by the Royal Army. But of course, it still led to catastrophic armor losses, and their gains were reversed anyway when the enemy’s armored counterattack came. All in all, all it did was give them one empty victory and place the enemy on alert—now, General Albrecht, the man who Rimpler viewed as the true leader of the enemy side in this civil war, had revitalized the Royalists into expanding their WMD stockpiles.

Now, should they do another chemical warfare sling out in the frontlines, it was all that assured that if he ordered the Federal Army to utilize non-persistent chems, the enemy would respond with the same within days. And if he were to order the utilization of persistent chemical weapons, especially nerve agents—no chance the enemy would not respond immediately.

“It is a dangerous proposition, Chancellor,” Rimpler cautiously replied. “It’ll set a precedent for the use of deadlier chemical weaponry, and greatly escalate the conflict in a way that might not realistically benefit us. If we are to use chemical warfare, we shall use it in desperation or we do it at the same time—first. The Federal Army right now sees no strategic or tactical benefits for its use.”

“The Confederacy does,” Pyotr reiterated. “I tell you what, the Gallians, they ran out of stockpiles during the Great War. I expect that the foolish Queen in Eutstadt has not mobilized any chemical agents in Gallia, or Lorathia. We’d have weeks or days of advantage before they can send their retaliation. Enough to overrun their defense lines and get our tanks in Toldoi and kill Gallia’s mad Queen.”

“Why? Can’t the Confederacy continue this war without doing that?” Rimpler asked. “You told me it’s going particularly well. Or are the reports of the OIA true?”

“The OIA?”

“That you lost nine hundred tanks in the span of a week?” Rimpler leaned forward. Pyotr averted his gaze and looked down.

“We have thirty thousand tanks in storage of all kinds,” Pyotr said. “Those losses…they’ll be replaced soon enough. We just need time…to train the new guys, and those divisions will be reinforced.”

“Most of your losses are of the modern T-18 MBTs,” Rimpler said. “I doubt the Confederacy have thirty-thousand T-18 MBTs lying around in storage, Mr. Kerensky.”

“Look, the enemy’s losses are half that, and they’ll find it harder to replace those fancier equipment and those…those damned mechs of yours,” Pyotr shook his head in frustration. “Those absolute things massacred my boys in Gallian cities. Bastards kept ambushing us from elevated positions tanks can’t take. It’s ridiculous.”

“That’s what they’re designed to do,” Rimpler said. “And I seriously doubt your older T-96 MBTs are going to do much better. In fact, those things have even worse armor. Worse guns. Sensors. You name it.”

“Yes, most of our storage tanks are T-96s,” Pyotr admitted. “And half are…requiring extensive maintenance, but we have six-thousand T-18s ready to replace the losses, and we’re ramping up production to three hundred per month. We can sustain it.”

“Not in the manpower terms,” Rimpler said. “Unless you’re all willing to draft women now.”

“I’d rather shoot myself than let a woman be in a tank,” Pyotr laughed. “Not making the same mistakes they did.”

“And lose the war in the process,” Rimpler sighed. He was facing the same damned situation. In a year or two, the Royalists would have full manpower and numbers advantage. All while the FOAF refused to adopt and fully develop their autonomous weapons program. He knew the Larissans had the same thing, but less developed.

We’d have to share our technology with this bastard soon. He sighed. Fueling your former rival nation just to win a revolution sure is a pain.

“But see, even you agree,” Pyotr said. “We’re in a bit of a shaky spot. My friend, why shall we not then use any available means to nudge us into a better position, strategically? Right now, our depleted armored formations are being shuffled back into the front, and the frontlines have temporarily paused. But the next ones are coming within a day or two, and the drive to Toldoi shall resume. Why then should we not make sure that once the second wave comes in, we will be starting the show with a devastating rain of nerve gas?”

“No, not yet,” Rimpler replied firmly. “You are to beat them, properly, with your armored spearhead. Losses be damned, I change my mind. You can replace them. But we cannot go back to a world where we have not used extremely deadly chemical weapons. Plus, I seriously doubt that Queen Amelie didn’t send her troops with CBRN protection.”

“Well, the Orlish sure did,” Pyotr reluctantly agreed. “And so did the Lorathians, but the Gallians? Most of their mobilized infantry have none. We’ll gas ‘em to death easily, and create holes in the frontlines, and what will the more well-equipped Lorathian and Orlish formations do? Even with the help of the Gallian elite brigades, they’d be outnumbered against our mechanized tide—”

“Do you even have CBRN protection on all your troops?”

“Eighty percent does,” Pyotr said. “Only rear-occupying units have none. All of our frontline units should have one. In fact, our boys rolled into the war wearing their baggy CBRN suits. They just have to place their gas mask on and stuff and lo and behold, the chemical munitions can fly. Then we’ll flush them out.”

“And where else are you planning to use it?”

“Maybe a few terror bombings in Gallian cities too,” Pyotr chuckled. “Assuming we manage to send planes or missiles in. Damn those REGAL SAM launchers. They’re a pain in the arse. But if we do get them in artillery or missile artillery range…”

“You’re treading a dangerous line, Mr. Kerensky,” Rimpler said. “Quite frankly, while I am a subscriber to terror bombing strategies…”

“I see a very good man,” Pyotr chuckled.

“I still recognize that we have a reputation to uphold,” Rimpler said. “Look, Mr. Kerensky, we won’t do it. Do you get that? Nope. Not acceptable. Not at this moment.”

“Then when?”

“When the necessity outweighs the cost,” Rimpler said.

“I thought we are operating under the assumption that we shall break the matriarchy ‘at all costs’, Mr. Rimpler.”

“And that’s a propaganda phrase,” Rimpler replied. “Just like the name of our alliance. You and I already agree on it, right? That we have no need for charades with each other. We both know that the words ‘Coalition of Free Nations’ is a lie at the moment.”

“...Heh, I thought you fools on the other side of the pond are ruling believing in that delusion.”

“Trust me, we’re not,” Rimpler said. “Now, I should say it. In exchange for us not making protests to your annexation, since it is in your interests, then we want you to follow our policies in the prosecution of the war, and avoid any undue escalation that may harm our interests. Is that clear, Mr. Kerensky?”

“Of course,” Pyotr frowned. “But if this offensive fails, Mr. Rimpler, know that the CFN will be in dire straits. I’ll make sure it does not happen, but let it be known that it is you who blocked my proposal today.”

“I know well what decisions I made,” Rimpler said. “And I’ll live by it.”

“Good,” Pyotr smiled. “Oh, a toast? Perhaps you want some fine Larissan vodka here? What do you think, my friend?”

“Oh, I’ll be very much into that.”

Heh…even our friends would probably be our enemies once we win. Then again…that’s just how geopolitics goes, I guess.