July 26th, 1840

Royal Palace's War Room, Arendal

General Wilhelmsen twisted his moustache with anxiety when the last man of the desired Trifecta of Generals entered the room. General Paulus Hindsfjell had arrived with him 20 minutes prior, with the new arrival being General Norulf Istaal, Commanding General of the Landwehr.

Wilhelmsen was never a huge fan of Istaal for a variety reasons, the first of which reminded him the moment the General walked through the door. Istaal was a very pompous man who almost always dressed himself in the fullest of dress uniforms, complete with his General's sash draped over his shoulder as well as the purple waist sash typical of the officer corps of the military. These gaudy ornaments accompanied just about every medal, badge, and order the General had ever won making him jingle with every step. To make the man seem even more comical, he was quite overweight while sporting a moustache linked to his sideburns linked to well-groomed widow's peak hair that has long since grayed. Compared to both Hindsfjell's and his own Spartan dress code and life style, Istaal was a fat, pompous ass.

In addition to his extravagant and wasteful ways, Wilhelmsen didn't like Istaal as a commanding officer as well. Istaal was hardly a fool when it came to strategy and tactics, but unlike himself and Paulus, he was certainly lacking. He had little initiative, only likely to move without orders in the most extreme of situations or if instructed to do so before. No, Istaal's one saving grace was that the man worshiped orders, and moved heaven and earth to ensure that they were followed. If he was ordered to hold ground, it was held to the last man and bullet, himself included.

This made Wilhelmsen nervous, as he was quite worried that Istaal was unlikely to help their conspiracy, but he had no choice. Thanks to the reports that had begun trickling in hours before that they were facing full on rebellion in both the far North as well as the south-western coasts. Both he and Paulus knew that the bulk of the Professional troops would soon be scattered to the Four Winds, leaving minimal troops in the Capital itself. He needed those Landwehr troops.

So he put on his best fake smile and greeted his fellow General. "Ah Norulf, it's been a while. Please sit down."

Despite what Wilhelmsen thought of him, Istaal was hardly a fool, especially in political manners. His steely hazel eyes bore into Wilhelmsen, the only hard thing on the fat man's body. "What's this about, Wilhelmsen?"

Wilhelmsen sighed and smiled. "I am sure you've been made aware of the recent actions of the Council of Ministers?"

"Yes, I have. I suppose you both… disagree with this?"

Wilhelmsen cocked his head. He shouldn't be surprised, as it was well know that Istaal was good at the game of thrones. He didn't rise to one of the top seats in the military for nothing, after all. "I suppose we do."

Istaal simply stared at Wilhelmsen, having deduced that while he was subordinate to Hindsfjell, he was the mastermind. But Istaal knew better than to be the first to speak of treason. After a moment of awkward silence, Wilhelmsen made the leap.

"You know what must be done, Istaal. The Council cannot be permitted to take power from Queen Elsa. Orders or not."

Istaal's fat face grew into a grimace. "No. It is not my place to interfere with the politics of the state, and it is not yours either, Wilhelmsen."

"Don't play coy, Istaal. We both know that at this level, politics is the name of the game."

"Yes, but it shouldn't be. And overthrowing the civilian government is not something to do on a whim!"

Wilhelmsen grey angry and flustered, stamping his foot down as Hindsfjell sat silently. "This is no mere whim! This is the death of the Monarchy! Just because Queen Elsa is too naïve to see or prevent it doesn't make it any less true!"

"It is up to Queen Elsa to decide the fate of the country, not us. If she decides to let the politicians and people have a go, then so be it!"

"Let the-"Wilhelmsen almost erupted into a seizure at the fat General's response. "The last time someone let the people have a go, the wars lasted twenty years! Or perhaps you've stuffed too much cake into your face and you've forgotten!"

At once, General Istaal changed into a different man. Gone was the annoyed fat man and replacing him was one that Wilhelmsen had never seen, but Hindsfjell had- at Ligny and Waterloo. With a cold voice, he began. "Do not mistake my softness of body for softness of character, Wilhelmsen. While you scampered dispatches between Generals because of who your father was, I stood with my men against the French. I would be careful to question the honor of a man who bears the wound badge, especially since you do not, Staff Officer."

Wilhelmsen shrunk a little, with his always troubling nerves clouding his brain. He had the wisdom to not say something foolish in response, but that helped him little since all he could think up was foolish responses. As such, Istaal finished the matter.

"It is not my job to interpret orders. It is to carry them out. Due to my honor as a General and an Officer, I will of course not mention what was discussed here tonight. But I will not move without authorization from the Royal Family, nor will I see my forces moved. And my subordinates know this as well. Good night, Gentlemen."

As the fat man lumbered out the door, Wilhelmsen shook his head in anger and disgust. While Hindsfjell was Acting Commander in Chief of the Army and could give orders as such, that did them little good now. With the war soon extracting the bulk of his troops to the front, which left the Landwehr. These troops were thereby untouchable, save to two people besides the Monarch- the General of the Landwehr and his immediate boss, the Crown Princess Anna. But the Princess would certainly follow her sister's lead, and she would never move against her wishes.

If only the Crown Princess could be trusted to move against the Council… what a shame.

…

July 27th, 1840

Arendal Wilderness

Ásta led her horse through the wooded trail, followed by a small number of rebel cavalrymen. It turned out a nearby Troop of Landwehr cavalrymen had also turned traitor and threw their cause in with Surtrsen. Ásta certainly though it odd that so many were flocking to Surtrsen instead of going rogue, but as it was beginning to occur to her, most of these rebel soldiers were made up of two categories. The first was similar to Surtrsen, except being more hateful towards ethnic minorities, such as Catholics, Jews and the Sami; in addition to pagans. While disappointed that they couldn't target Catholics directly, they were more than happy to be given free reign against the other two.

The second group was by far the minority but seemed to grow by the day, these being men who were becoming convinced that events had forced them to choose between the Queen or their homes and families. Due to the second winter that had started the day before, these men had become convinced that Queen Elsa was clearly uncaring for their lives. And while it was easily likely that men of this category were quite possible to hold bigoted view points as well, it wasn't what drove them to the streets in revolt.

What all of this meant to Ásta was that "her" Extremist revolt was in danger of being of being taken over by desperate moderates that might turn this revolt civilized. Now while she could certainly poison the minds of her moderate soldiers, she couldn't do it if they simply took over the revolt. So she had to find more extremists, which led her south with these men.

She had felt a great storm of madness in the southern coasts south-west of Arendal, and by doing some research and intelligence gathering she had learned that a large band of outlaws had begun a separate rebellion in their region. Ásta's goal was to recruit these men.

In addition to the cavalrymen was an officer representing Surtrsen, Lieutenant Frikron. He was hand-picked by Surtrsen, which thanks to her abilities, meant he was hand-picked by Ásta. Unlike many of the other officer's in Surtrsen's original circle, she had sensed that the young man was strong willed and intelligent. Not only did this make him useful for negotiations, but Ásta was intrigued by the man and wanted to keep an eye on him ever since the first night she met him, when Surtrsen's council decided to mutiny.

Likewise, he also carried a great deal of suspicion towards her. Every time Ásta turned about, she caught the young blond officer peering through his metal framed glasses at her with his quick blue eyes. Bold, but truthful. She knew her aura made those nearby feel at unease, but most just shrugged it off or equated it to "holiness". This lad questioned that.

Riding up to the front and out of earshot of the men, he quietly began his own investigation. "So, what do I call you?"

Ásta turned and gave a cold look. "Is that how you address all women you meet? I am sure you're a big hit with the ladies."

"It is how I address the ones who claim to be angels, yet hide behind masks like a leper. You know at least Joan of Arc only claimed to hear God."

Ásta tilted her head, her blues eyes showing her curious mood. "I'm assuming you don't believe the story that I'm too radiant for most men? That it tires me to be presentable to people?" The funny thing was that the second was actually true.

"Not one bit. There's nothing radiant about you that I've seen. In fact you have not done one thing that I would consider a miracle other than somehow twist the good major to do what he's doing now."

Ásta grinned, gauging whether to disappear the man or recruit him. "God works in mysterious ways."

The young officer only had a slight facial tick to the response, but the unusually closed mind of the lad gleaned the required information. She could only get one thing, that being that his mental thought to the concept of God was curious doubt.

Oh, the boy's a doubter, is he? This will be fun.

Overcoming the odd sensation of being probed, he continued with his thought process. "So this leads to an important question. Why the mask?"

"You aren't ready to see my true face. None of you are."

"What's that-"A swift hand shot up into a halt motion, as the Draugr's head snapped to the distance. She slowly scanned the distant trail, pausing slightly in different positions. Carefully her left hand moved to her sword.

Changing her voice into a stern shout, Ásta called out to the unseen party. "I can see all eleven of you. Reveal yourself. Now."

There was brief silence, as Frikron tried to see the hidden men that Ásta has so easily spotted, slightly worried as the hidden party outnumbered their six almost two to one. After a brief moment, a trio of men emerged from some distant bushes. All three were armed, scruffy men wearing dull colored jackets over prison uniforms and boots.

The toughest of them took a step forward, and began to speak. "What are men in the Queen's uniforms doing on our land."

Asta gave a casual look, completely at eased during what Frikron assumed was a stick-up that could easily lead to a slaughter. She asked, in a bored tone. "Are you the rebel's we've heard about? Muspell's sons?"

"Yes, that's us. But answer my question bitch."

A single laugh came from behind the steel mask. "If you've paid any attention, you'd see that these men no longer bear the crocus. But you'd do better to watch your mouth when addressing a Lady."

"Yeah, and who's going to defend your fucking honor, cunt? The boy officer? Or the four dandies on horseback?"

Ásta paused, before quietly slipping off of horseback, causing a murmur of laughter amongst the outlaws. A few cocked the hammers back on their muskets, expecting the situation to unravel after their leader would backhand the wench. Instead, the Draugr quietly stepped up to the man, working her powers to the highest level as she removed her mask and hood.

To the others, they saw a young, unassuming woman, but to the leader, he saw Ásta in all of her terribleness. His mind quickly buckled as it didn't know what to make of what it saw, as she poured an exceptional amount of madness into the man. Every trauma, emotional and physical, experienced and imagined replayed itself as the man begin to shake with horror and piss ran down his leg. After she felt his mind snap satisfactory, she re-donned her hood and mask, before turning to remount her horse.

As she saddled up, the man began to mutter "I'm sorry" in a repetitive manner, clearly terrified. Ásta turned to one of the other escaped prisoners. "Now, I came a long way to meet and ally myself with your leader. Will you take me, or deny me? I'd be mighty displeased if I couldn't."

The convicts took one look at the gibbering mess of a leader, before nodding nervously. "Of course, miss. We'll take you to him, right this way!"

As Frikron tried to figure out what just happened, Ásta merely turned and smiled, barely visibly through the mouth slit on her mask before riding forward.

…

Royal Palace, Arendal

Elsa was walking towards the doors to the war room chamber, when a familiar voice rang out and halted her.

"Elsa wait!"

Anna came running out, with a good amount of the white having reverted back to strawberry blonde, much to Elsa's relief. Elsa knew better than to celebrate prematurely, and set to fixing what she knew she had broken. Plus, she was eager to delay this briefing.

"Anna, I'm sorry. I was wrong to run away from responsibility. I shouldn't have dump my responsibility on you like that."

"Elsa… it's okay. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me, it's just… it's just you are sometimes so damn hard on yourself. You love me and everything around you, but you hate yourself. You're a thousand times better at this than I'll ever be. You just need to believe in yourself."

Elsa gave a non-committed smile, before she quietly said her farewell. "Thank you Anna, I'll try to remember that." But Anna could tell by Elsa's expression that while she had stopped trying to force her duties onto her and run away, she was far from out of the woods.

Oh Elsa, when are you going to learn to love yourself?

Still, Anna and Elsa both took a breath, adopted indifferent expressions, and prepared to enter the military staff meeting together- as sisters.

…

"All Rise for the Queen!"

The mix of senior officers and government officials rose as Elsa and Anna entered the room, with conversation and banter halting until the two Royal sisters moved to the chairs reserved for them, sitting down before Elsa put the men at ease with a hand wave. Wasting no time, the officials began to brief the Queen on the situation at hand.

Being acting commander in chief as the official transfer of operational power had not been given back to the monarchy yet, General Hindsfjell began. "Your Majesty, we have received numerous confirmed reports of a revolt involving mutinous troops of the Tryggvason Landwehr Battalion as well as several other units. These units include the Bykle Landwehr Battalion, and the Landwehr Dragoon Troop from Valle."

Both General Istaal and Colonel Spalter grew disgusted expressions, most likely for their mutinous troops. Hindsfjell continued. "In addition, the Valle Landwehr Battalion and Garrison of Gebirgsjager have experienced a good deal of desertions and defections to the rebel camp. The good news is that a sizeable number of men from the mutinous units have deserted back to our camp. If the amount of deserters is any indication, the mutineers are seriously understrength at this time."

Elsa nodded. "I see. How long has it been since this revolt has started?"

Colonel Grimstad rose to address the Queen. "We believe it began in the pre-dawn hours of the 23rd of July, based on the stories we received from rebel deserters."

Anna interjected, a little unusual but not unwelcomed as both Elsa and the staff did want to see a more active heir. "What happens to the rebel deserters?"

"That depends on the will of the Queen. At the moment we are interning and questioning them, as we do not know if some are spies. I would recommend merciful vigilance, as it encourages desertion. But I am sure some would disagree."

Anna looked to Elsa, who gave an uncommitted reply. "We can handle their fate later. For now we should plan to move before the mutinous troops can really begin to recruit. Deputy Minister Widstrom, I believe you had something else?"

"Yes, your Majesty. In the South-west a similar revolt broke out as well, except it was perpetrated by well-known anarchist radicals. They have caused quite a bit of a mess by raiding prisons and arming convicts."

Elsa raised an eyebrow in concern. "You said well known? How is that this happened if we knew about the group beforehand?"

Widstrom's face turned red with embarrassment at the failure at his job. "Well, the police had long monitored the group in question, which while having a sizeable amount of suspected followers, had little resources and had never carried out any serious acts against the state. Then two days ago we received the first reports of prisons being attacked, with the intent of freeing the men inside. We confirmed those reports yesterday, with the first drafts being sent to you last night."

Grimstad stepped in, visibly irritating Widstrom who clearly didn't like the army stepping on his toes. "Sounds like this little movement- the Republican Revolutionary Brotherhood, I believe they call themselves- has a recently acquired a large surplus of weapons and are trying to build a large revolt. Lacking people, they turn the prisons for fighters."

Widstrom chimed in, not being able to resist the irony of the situation. "A revolt that has more guns than people- I don't think I've heard of that happening before."

Elsa contemplated a moment, before weighing in on the revolt in the South West. "It's not as simple as getting people. I think these people are trying to recreate the storming of the Bastille."

A chilled silence reigned for a second, as the concept of a second French Revolution occurring here in Arendal frightened all of them. Elsa continued. "We need to take action before things get out of hand. I want troops sent to Grimstad, where local commanders more familiar with the situation on the ground will take command. As for the North, General Wilhelmsen, I believe you drafted a plan?"

"Yes your Majesty. I would have 1st Landwehr Regiment March north with supporting elements drawn from the cavalry and artillery deal with the rebels."

Elsa simply starred at the General, as a slight temperature dip was noticed by those in the room. "General, we will not send reservists north to fight a pitched battle merely to keep your troops in the capitol for… personal reasons." She paused, looking at the list of total forces available, before allocating based on her military education. "General Hindsfjell, I wish for a Battalion of the Grenadiers to march west to assist the Grimstad Garrison. As for the North, I want two Battalions of Grenadiers to march North with Colonel Spalter's cavalry and a Battery of Guns. Colonel Spalter?"

The gruff German Cavalryman sat up. "Your Majesty?"

"I wish for you to take command of this Northern Battle group. General Istaal is to lend you any Landwehr forces you see fit, as will Colonel Elriksen with regard to the Gebirgsjager. How long do you need to prepare?"

"I will be ready by tomorrow, Your Majesty."

Elsa rose, leading for everyone else to do the same as a sign of respect. "Very well Gentlemen, you have your tasking's. Carry on."

"Your Majesty?" It was Colonel Grimstad who rose, having finally worked up the courage to address the elephant in the room. "This snow storm… is this a measure to impede the enemy invasion?"

It was about as subtle as the question could be asked without accusing the Queen of cursing the whole land- again. But it had to be known.

"No, Colonel. I did not will it to curse the land again. This time it feels different, as if the snow is not my own."

"Are you saying this is enemy action?"

Elsa shook her head a laughed. "Not necessarily Colonel. I feel this way around natural winter, and it is after all, Scandinavia."

Soft laughter was heard, before Queen Elsa's departure caused the officers to go to attention as customs and courtesies demanded.

Colonel Marcks had sat silently, not one to voice his discontent but still very worried. After all it was his Battalions of men being scattered to the four winds. He desired to go with his men, but it was not his place to. The presence of a Colonel would only serve to step on Spalter's toes, and he knew deep down that the Cavalryman was the better choice for the Northern offensive.

Still, he was troubled. He looked at the now changing Campaign map, more specifically the Capital, where a mere 3 battalions remained- the Fourth Battalion of Grenadiers and the 2 Garrisons of Landwehr for the city.

I better prepare the city for a defense, shouldn't I?

…

The Eriksen Household, Arendal

Dieter entered the household, already unable to restrain a grin as he heard the laughter of his siblings. As he hung his cap and overcoat up on the rack, he spotted the head of his younger sister Edda pop out into the hallway, as her expression lit up.

"Mama, Papa, Dieter's home!"

A number a joyful exclamations were heard, as his older and younger brother stomped out into the hallway, still in uniform. Dieter laughed as he moved in to bear hug his brothers, whom he had not really gotten to sit down and spend time with since they came back from campaign. Neither had changed too much since they left, with Johann still looking the part of the dashing officer and older brother; while Mikael still poorly fit into his Grenadier uniform with his slight sixteen-year old body.

And while Dieter wanted to lose himself into the evening, he could help but dread the future. For he knew the reason they could all be together tonight, and that was because tomorrow Johann and Mikael knew they were going to war. This might be the last time the siblings saw each over on this earth.

Not only was that cheerful though present, but Dieter had a secret. After the meeting he had went to the Queen and made a request that one way or another, Mikael not go north with his Battalion. He knew it wasn't his place to ask things of the Queen, and if either Sergeant Hvitstrom or Captain Edvard had found this out, it wouldn't be pretty. But at the same time, he'd rather lose his rank and position than possibly lose both his brothers.

With that cheery thought in mind, he shook it off and rejoined in the festivities.

…

Bit of Notes-

Another two weeks, another chapter. Hopefully I can keep this up. The finale is almost upon us, and chances are, after the next chapter or so of filler, it's going to go into overdrive mode as the final act of the crisis resolves itself.

Things are really about to get real.

Unfortunately, in about a week I will be departing for the NTC in Fort Irwin California. Once there I will have little to no internet, and basically no time off, so don't expect much out of February. After that, I'll be very busy getting ready to transition into the National Guard, so I'm not sure if I'll have time to write a lot. But I'll do what I can.

O7,

Dragunov