July 25th, 1840

Tryggvason, Northern Arendal

Surtrsen overlooked a map of possible routes south when the door to his war room swung open, bringing with it a very displeased Captain Hrym. Considering he had never really seen the man angry, displeasure was a big deal. Walking over to the desk and ignoring all courtesies, the Captain threw a can of rat poison onto the table. In a loud voice, the Captain demanded some answers.

"What is this, Sir?!"

"Well, it's obviously rat poison, Captain."

"Yes, Rat Poison. Not Laudanum, not codeine, nor morphine. Rat Poison. You promised me that I'd be given the materiel to dispose of the foreign populations humanely. Painlessly. It was bad enough that I had to hang the male population due to the scant amount you gave me for Ulfberg. Now you want me to send women and little children into convulsive spasms as they choke to death!"

Surtrsen stood up, straightening his uniform before speaking. "First of all, Captain, all efforts to dispose of the heathens are secondary to the main effort. We will be marching south soon, and we will need every teaspoon of pain killers for our wounded. Even Now I regret giving up the amount of Laudanum for Ulfberg. Secondly, I find it suspicious that you are concerned so much for the peoples you are charged with destroying."

"Sir, I am concerned because I am a civilized man. If these people must be removed to bring on a bright future for our people, I feel that it should be treated as a mass Euthanasia. You don't feed an old man rat poison to gently ease his passing!"

Surtrsen nodded, before turning in a way that his back was turned to the cold Captain. "I figured you felt as much. You are a good officer, Hrym. But I feel your morals hinder you from doing the work that needs to be done. As such I am pulling you and your company from the Special duty and reassigning you to the main army."

"And who will take my place, Sir?"

"I do not know, Captain. For now I am ceasing all further raids, until I come up with a better solution. You are dismissed, Captain."

As the young officers snapped to attention and left, Surtrsen pondered once again if he had crossed a line that should not have been crossed. He kept having a horrible sinking feeling that he had unleashed something that should not have been loosed. The only thing he knew for certain was he wished that the Angel sent from God would return and guide him what to do next.

…

Ásta slipped by the soldiers effortlessly, as no-one suspected the frail old woman wearing the hooded cloak of being anything but that. She was making her way to the Garrison Headquarters to link up with Surtrsen and once again manipulate her puppet, when she heard an odd conversation from an alley entrance.

Two rebel soldiers were posted near an alley way for some reason or another, and as normal they were passing the time through idle talk. Mundane topics for them, groundbreaking for the corpse.

"I don't get why we don't just run the fucking micks out of town. Catholics are just as bad as Pagans, in my book."

"I don't know either. Apparently Surtrsen wants all Christians to unite or some shit. Poor sod doesn't know the fucking Papists are loyal only to Rome."

"Yeah, I know."

Ásta paused, as it dawned on her that she made a serious error with her plans. Up to this point she had worked under the assumption that there was ONE Christianity, therefore one evil to heap the blame for the monstrosities of Crusade under. But if there was more than one…

No, she could not let one subsect drive people to another through hate and terror. All of Christianity had to be equally evil in the eyes of the people of Arendal. If these men were telling the truth, the Surtrsen was already on the right path. He and the Christians only needed the right push. But for now, she needed information to avoid any more error.

As such she flushed madness into the minds of the two guards, enough to convince them that she was a young and beautiful woman, with a rosary about her neck. She brushed past them into the alley, ready to let them make the next move.

"Hey, you." One called out, with the eyes of a predator. "How about we promote some interfaith relations?"

Ásta smiled as she took off the steel mask, feeling her skin sink in as she prepared to unleash her true form upon them. While her power didn't depend on it like a vampire's did, she did like the shock value of it all. After all, it's not every day you get torn to pieces by a corpse. They may have gotten a chance to run, if it wasn't for the fact her back was turned.

I wonder what man tastes like…

…

Coastal Wilderness, Arendal

Monsieur Jacob Durant always saw himself as a revolutionary of the highest caliber that was still putting in the good fight against the bourgeoisie and nobility in an attempt to bring republicanism back to life in France. In reality he was an anarchist smuggler and arms dealer. That wasn't to say that a few decades back the old man wasn't a genuine supporter of the French revolution. But decades of war and exile had a funny way of changing a man. Now incapable of returning to his beloved France, along with most of Europe due to the death sentence conviction in absentia, Jacob now made a living in the cracks of Europe peddling illicit good to "revolutionaries". He didn't like dealing with Governments, and for the most part he didn't. But as he found it harder and harder to do business he found himself making exceptions.

Weselton was one such exception. He admired their success in revolting against the English Crown in the spirit of the Americans, as well as their surprisingly liberal legal code. Their war against Napoleon and France, as well as the fact that they were still led by a Duke did not endear him as much. Still, he looked the other way when they offered a job as long as he could warp the mission into somehow being "In the Spirit of the Revolution."

So when he saw the merchant ship giving him the familiar lantern code he gave to signify contact, he cautiously returned the signal and hid to ensure that it was a contact meeting him, not a party of marines. It didn't take long before the shore party approached, with the normally light number of members typical of these meetings. So Durant stepped down to meet them.

Durant was confident, as years on the job did a lot to calm the nerves. Besides he had a few men paid to cover his back with rifles.

Durant was a little surprised to see an unknown man instead of the contact he had come to know, but didn't let it bother him. He casually looked the young man up and down and quickly deduced that the young man was very new at this."

"Mister Durant, I assume?"

"Oui. What happened to Monsieur Hawkins?"

"Oh, uh, Mister Hawkins was promoted since his last dealing with you. He sends his regards."

"I see. So, what can I do for Weselton today?"

"Well, to do what you do best. Kick start a revolution."

"No no, I don't start a revolution, I merely give the oppressed peoples the tools they need to prevail."

"Right. Well, we have the tools. What we need you to do is… redistribute the wealth."

Durant chuckled. He was familiar with this sort of work. While he knew it was merely another state trying to instill chaos in the land of their foe, it was his favorite type of work. Weselton had done it before, but never too big which was a shame. 50 Muskets here, a cannon there, enough to stir things up, but never enough to overthrow the government.

"What do you have for me?"

"Well Mister Durant, what can you do with 3000 muskets?"

Durant nearly had a heart attack.

…

Ducal Palace, Weselton

Mister Hawkins once again thanked the brutal discipline of the Army as he stoically stood as the good Duke was going through one of his rants. And while the Duke was very good at raging, he was nothing compared to the Corporals and Sergeants that had raised him up in the Weseltonian Army.

"IN WHAT WORLD, IS ENNACTING REGIME CHANGE A CASUAL DECISION, HAWKINS!"

Ah, Initiative. It either did wonders for one's career, or horrors for it. Thinking back on it, he was a little brash in assuming that the Duke would be fine with such bold steps. But if the Duke was as eager to repay Arendal for its treachery as he thought, well then he would have been singing nothing but praises.

"It was Whitehall's directive, sir."

The one nice thing of being in Weselton was while it had nobility, they weren't as anal when it came to proper addressing. Hence referring to the Duke as 'Sir" was not what made him nearly explode.

"I DON"T KNOW IF YOU HADN'T NOTICED HAWKINS, BUT WE DECLARED INDEPENDENCE FROM ENGLAND OVER 60 YEARS AGO! DO YOU SEE A UNION JACK ON THAT FLAGPOLE OUTSIDE!?"

"No sir."

"I didn't think so!" The Duke paced around, catching his breath and calming himself down to a reasonable state. Luckily for Weselton, he was on one of his good days when the dementia was absent and he was his usual cunning and reasonable self. As such he began to calm dictate his position on Arendal.

"While we are of course careful to… consider Whitehall's requests, in this case Whitehall can go to hell. We are handling Arendal and Queen Elsa our way."

"What do you need to happen, sir?"

"Firstly, cease any further action against Arendal, covert or otherwise. Cover our tracks, by any means. We will at once open every diplomatic channel we have access to, and build our case against Queen Elsa. We must have the entire world united against her."

Sir that will be quite difficult. Firstly, the acts of your two bodyguards, my son included. Secondly, the diplomats who attended the coronation are currently singing nothing but praises of her. And they've had almost 2 week head start."

"Yes, but we have a trump card. Fear. Queen Elsa's sorcery changes things. Many countries will not like that one bit. And while the smattering of diplomats friendly to her are trying to paint a pretty picture, all we have to point out is how powerful the new Queen is."

"Your plan sir?"

"Simple, cower in fear."

Hawkins tilted his head in confusion. "Sir?"

"Make it quite clear that we are powerless against the dangerous Queen Elsa's ice magic. Even with our fleet and Army, that we don't stand a chance of how powerful she is alone. Put in the press and diplomatic communiques. Not only that, but express how worried we are if she were to marry or ally with certain countries. Use what evidence we can. Tell the Prussians that she was pleased with the French emissaries' actions and would like to repay the French likewise. Tell the French we are worried about her historic closeness with the Prussians. This sort of thing."

Hawkins nodded, pleased to see the Duke of a decade ago returning to form. Sadly, he figured that the next day might see the duke returned to a quivering mess. Thus came the more difficult part of being the Duke's right hand man.

"Sir, what do you wish for me to do to ensure these long term plans remain secure from… day to day obstructions?"

The Duke gave him a cold hard glare down his bespectacled nose, one that Hawkins could have sworn could curdle milk. After a lengthy moment, the Duke sighed.

"You really do think it's getting worse, don't you?"

Hawkins knew that the Duke already knew the answer. Thus he didn't respond.

"I've considered retiring you know. But Thomas and Elizabeth are…" He paused, turning to stare out his office window into the Industrial landscape of Weselton's Capitol city. "I wouldn't wish this job on my worst enemy, let alone my children. If only George was still alive…"

"I miss the lad myself, sir. He was a good officer and a good man, even to his enlisted men. But we don't have to pass it down to your children."

The Duke scoffed. "And let Parliament do it? Those idiots are barely capable of passing basic government budgets without my interference, let alone rule a country! The Old Guard are a bunch of British sympathizers that'd have us under mother England's shackles in a heartbeat. And the new breed are just too damn inexperienced to run Weselton. Perhaps in five or ten years they'll be ready."

"Sir, with all due respect, I sincerely doubt you'll make it another ten years."

The Duke gave Hawkins a truly sad, despaired look before uttering in a brave voice "I'll have too." But his eye's said something else:

I know.

…

Elsa briskly walked into her chambers, slamming the door shut behind her. She strolled over to one of her loveseats, flopping down on it in tired exhaustion. She once again felt weak and powerless, this brought on by the shit day she just had. She had just endured her first day of actual "trial", and it did not go well for her.

Firstly they covered the charges of desertion. To be fair, she couldn't really argue against that. She did run off to the North Mountain. And while she didn't know that she had caused winter in Arendal, she should have known better. And it turned out that "I thought my staff would turn on me and burn me as a witch" didn't work as a defense. So she doubted she had won any confidence there. A Queen with no confidence in her staff was a Queen with no confidence, after all.

Which led to the second charge- attempted murder, as well as assault and battery. She did her best to emphasize that she never intended to hurt anyone at the North Mountain, Marshmallow really did a number on a couple of her soldiers. Luckily, nobody really pushed the incident with Weselton's thugs. Even her opponents had justly considered that self-defense. Still, she had not done a fantastic job in defending her actions. After all, this was not about guilt.

This was her only opportunity to convince the council that she was fit to be Queen. And while as each day wore on she wished she was not Queen, she still worried about Anna's ability to rule.

If I'm not ready, poor Anna would be simply overwhelmed…

Elsa paused, as a very dark thought entered her head.

… or would she?

Her mind went into overdrive, as a whole new world of possibilities opened up. After all, who handled the crisis in Arendal with a brave face?

Who fearlessly quested to return her to Arendal, not giving up even after Elsa had summoned Marshmallow?

Anna was the fearless leader Arendal needed, not her. Better yet, more than fearless she was a natural leader. People just seemed to like her more than they did Elsa. Sure a little bit of help from the council and herself would be needed, but Anna would make a much better Queen… right?

Elsa leaped up, bounding to her desk in a moment. Eyes wide with giddy and inspiration, she furiously began to scribble onto parchment the machinations of her ill-conceived plot.

…

As Elsa planted the seeds of self-destruction, Anna was doing everything in her power to save Elsa's rule, which today involved a back-door meeting with one of the loyalists as well as the opposition. Representing the loyalists was Hilfred Widstrom, whose politics were not as simple as she first thought. In fact the man was the one who stepped forward to assist Anna in her quest to win Elsa's crown back, moving a number of pieces behind the scenes in her favor.

The other was the opposition member Harald Fafnirsen, Deputy Minister of Defense. While Anna had initially saw the small, meek looking man as a nervous wreck, the last few days had shown him to be a mouse that could roar. While a member of the opposition, Harald was more than willing to raise his voice against even his "comrades" when they argued against his politics. Like Widstrom, he too had to fill in after his superior resigned in protest of the secrecy of the Queen's magic. Both were men of the hour.

Anna's eyes darted back and forth, before nervously beginning the informal meeting.

"So… you arranged this meeting, Ministers?"

"Yes." Widstrom stepped forward, before continuing. "I have contacted several members of the opposition through Minister Fafnirsen here, and they assure me that a better alternative to the current course of action can be achieved."

Harald cut in eager to get his piece in, as he was a man who took great pleasure in his handiwork. "Yes… a number of the opposition feel that removing Queen Elsa would be a… drastic choice."

Anna cocked an eyebrow. "Then why vote to begin the proceedings?"

Harald smiled. "Politics, your highness. They, like myself, believe it is time to reduce the monarchy's power in Arendal. And this situation allows us to propel our platform forward."

Anna developed a disgusted look upon her face. "You… weasel!"

Fafnirsen shrugged. "Call me what you like, but we have your sister in political checkmate. She either gives up some of her powers, or she loses the throne and you lose your powers."

"What makes you think I will give up my powers if I become Queen!?" Anna demanded with a harrumph.

"Tell me Princess, how would you advise the commander of Battlegroup North against a Norwegian invasion as compared to an invasion from the Danes?"

Anna's confused stare gave the acting Minister of Defense all the satisfaction he needed. "If this nation is to survive the coming days, we need competent leadership. You are clever, your highness. But cleverness won't save us. But I digress. Backhanded they may be, my platform will save your sister's crown. You can count on that."

Sensing the tension and eager to play the peacekeeper, Hilfred stepped back in. "Harald, could you excuse us please?" The small man nodded, before leaving the small room. Waiting until the door clicked shut, Widstrom continued. "Now while these negotiations are vital, there is another issue I need to address, your highness."

Anna took a deep breath, before giving her attention to the Deputy Interior Minister. "Yes?"

"You see, I feel that while the Opposition can be dealt with diplomatically, there is another threat to peace and order in Arendal- the Army."

Anna gave a look that belittled at the idiotic statement. "The Army? They are a little too… eager, but I don't doubt their loyalty."

"That's the problem. Chances they are planning some sort of reactionary move to the proposals put forth by the council, plans that could lead to dire consequences."

"Good!" Anna crowed triumphantly. "With all the crap they've been pulling, maybe they should be arrested!"

"Well, as nice and simple as that would be, that would likely cause riots and possible revolts. Our foreign enemies would be more than happy to move in and take advantage of the anarchy. As unpleasant as it would be, this proposal needs to pass. And we can't trust the army to not act."

"What are you proposing?"

"I have an initiative that I drew up a few days ago, back when this crisis started. Simply put, a second security force under the Council's control would be established to police the Capital, as well as assist the Palace Guard. This would ensure that the army would go back to defending our borders, not threating to overthrow the civilian government!"

Anna shook her head. "Look, you've been a great help to me. But I rather deal with the devil I know than the devils I don't. And I may not know the game too well, but I do know that civilian police fall under the control of the Interior Ministry. Good day, Minister Widstrom."

Anna turned and left abruptly, leaving the Minister in the room. As the door clicked shut, a grin grew on the acting Interior Minister's face.

"Well, I'll just have to go to plan B."

…

Eva sat on her horse as the column of refugees trekked south away from the fighting on the back roads, still numb from the horror she saw in Ulfberg. To her fellows she put on a cocky, sarcastic grin to reassure them that the world was still right. After all if the Left hand of the Queen despaired, then they clearly stood no chance, right?

Plus she had a job to do. In this column was the Royal Ice Master and Deliverer, the bullshit title invented to reward the Crown Princess's fancied. His safe return would be most beneficial to the morale of the Royal Family, so she was glad to expedite that process. Queens and Princesses deserved guilty pleasures like anyone else, she supposed.

As for the bulk of the trolls, they had parted ways much earlier in the day, as they determined they had gotten close enough to civilization for their own comfort. As such they turned to enter one of their secret hideaways to wait out the coming storm. Bulda and their Chief decided to continue south, and surprised the former Gebirgsjager by using a disguising crystal that made them appear human…ish.

While any glance or even a close look would determine them to be little more than heavy-set humans, an in depth inspection or face to face conversation would certainly raise red flags. She wasn't too concerned for the trip south, but if a Grenadier or Landwehr soldier garrisoning the city felt like doing his job particularly well… it could result in a questionnaire the Trolls weren't asking for.

As she removed her cap to scratch her head, she felt a wet drop on her cheek, as if a rain drop had fallen. She tucked her cap back on quickly, a little startled by the cold shock.

A summer rainstorm, perhaps?

She looked up to the grey overcast sky that had hung over them for the last several hours, before she saw the precipitation begin to fall in mass. To the inclement weather, Eva had only one thing to say.

"Aw shit."