17th of Brzeszczny, 6E219
Old Town Ward, Caer Endaris, Royal Rejionowa
~09:00
It was a sunny day, and already promising to be quite warm. Treymarch sat outside the small coffee lounge, sipping a cup of black coffee and watching down the streets. He was waiting for someone, and they had just shown themselves. A young lady, grey eyes, white hair, pale skin. She was wearing pants and a sleeveless gambeson, emblazoned over the left breast with a small, silver eagle wielding a sword and oak leaves, the symbol of the Endarian military. She soon sees Treymarch and nods to him. She walks over and sits down across from him.
"Mornin' Kirin. Don't worry, I ordered you your regular." Treymarch greets her as she sits at the table with him.
"Morning, Treymarch, and thanks." She replies. Her voice is soft and cool. To the casual stranger, Kirin could easily be mistaken as a cold and unfriendly person. Treymarch knew better though. They had basically grown up together. A few moments after she sat down, a coffee, brewed with ground cocoa powder and a splash of goat's milk and cane sugar is brought to Kirin and she takes it, sipping it and looking at Treymarch.
"Kind of odd, just the two of us." Treymarch remarks after a moment. Kirin nods and sets her coffee down. Treymarch in turn sips his coffee.
"True, but Matou is a tad busy." Kirin responds.
"Aye. Have you heard from the pigeon?" Treymarch asks. Kirin nods and sips her drink, thinking before she responds.
"Yes. I was actually put in charge of the decryption and analysis of the report, being that I have the most experience with Matou's encryption skills." Kirin replies.
"Right, he uses a rather unique style, yes?" Treymarch asks. Kirin again nods.
"Yes, you could say that. His is certainly different from the other agents. He first uses a special syllable moving cipher in which the first and last syllables are switched on words with two or more syllables. He then uses a special shift cipher, in which the number of letters shifted are included in the encryption key, itself a poem, in which the number of lines per stanza are the number of shifts to the left or right. Then, if the poem is in iambic pentameter, then it is a left shift, and if the poem is in iambic hexameter then it is a right shift. Finally, is the third level of encryption and thus the first level that you have to break. The numerical encryption. In this, every letter in the message is assigned a number. However, in our alphabet, which possesses 30 letters, the system is a bit unique, in that it isn't a normal direct encryption in which A equals 1. Rather instead, A might be… 5. In this regard, you look to the number of stanzas in the poem. The number of stanzas in this case would be 5. The number of stanzas tells you what number to divide by to reach the direct number correlation. Now, in some cases, with top level documents, Matou won't stop there. If there is a change from iambic pentameter to hexameter or the other way around, then that indicates the second paragraph follows a new code system, to which you then, use the poem from that point on to translate the second paragraph. Conversely, the first paragraph would be translated using only the first part of the poem. There can, of course, be multiple shifts back and forth. I've seen him do up to twelve shifts before. That one was a pain to decode. But, I won't deny. His triple level, morphing encryption method is incredibly effective." Kirin explains. Treymarch nods and sips his drink as she explains.
"Well damn. Do they pay you overtime?" Treymarch asks, chuckling. Kirin laughs and shakes her head.
"No, but this is why Matou buys my drinks. I told him that's the price of having me put up with his ridiculous encryption." She replies.
"Well, the message was certainly interesting..." Treymarch says, sipping his drink. Kirin nods.
"Indeed. The Alliance… Horde… What will be their card?" Kirin mutters, thinking.
"Well, for all of Endaria's publicizing for desire for peace, it looks like we are standing by for the worst. Increased troop movements, military spending was just bumped up a little bit, Ley Crystals from Caer Lumonelles' Arsenal being moved to ports, and subsidizing the steel and lumber industries..." He remarks. He finishes his drink and waves to the server for another one. Kirin nods in agreement.
"Right. Quietly, Endaria is preparing for the worst. Markesia, Arctura, Sugari Boshi, and Gdanzaw all filed their reports recently. They too are mobilizing certain units and economic sectors that had been frozen. So, while we may not be putting it out to the public, the country as well as many of the commonwealths seem to be moving to standby." Kirin affirms.
"What is your opinion on it all? Think there will be a war?" Treymarch asks. Kirin thinks as she drinks. Treymarch's second coffee is brought out.
"Personally? I think so." Kirin states her opinion rather plainly after a moment. Treymarch nods.
"Why?" He inquires.
"Well, the nature of the factions. This Horde and the Alliance, they've got a long history of conflict. Not only that, but the totality of the conflict… It's not a series of skirmishes. It's full on war. To that end, I don't think the factions will let us establish trade with both sides. But if we pick one side to trade with, well… that would be too much help and the other side would be forced to stop our trade ships. How long until that turns into destroying our ships?" Kirin explains her answer in a direct and purely realist manner. She doesn't sugarcoat it.
"Well, that's optimistic..." Treymarch remarks, chuckling. Kirin just shrugs and finishes her drink. "Think we could just stay out of it all, just go isolationist?" Treymarch continues. Kirin immediately shakes her head.
"Noveia certainly will pursue an alliance once they learn of the factions. We have to have allies against Noveia and also… we still do need trade." Kirin explains simply.
"Well, that's a shame. That means two wars probably. I doubt this Sauron bloke is the most cordial and peaceful. I'm damn certain we will end up having to fight him." Treymarch comments.
"I'm not to worried about that one, honestly. From the descriptions, his military is essentially just a horde with loose chains of command and it relies on its overwhelming numbers to win. Say we send the 14th Cavalry Army Group along with the 7th Army, the 3rd Fleet, and the 9th Royal Marines Army Corps. That's a fraction of our army and still I think that would be enough to turn the tide. We have the most powerful weapon on our side." Kirin grins.
"Oh?" Treymarch raises an eyebrow.
"Logistics." Kirin states, smiling. Treymarch laughs and finishes his second coffee.
21st of Brzeszczny, 6E219
ERS Królowa Wojny, The Candan Ocean
~14:00
"Water… and after that more fuckin' water." Imad complains, watching the ocean as the ship sailed on. The ERS Malignancy and the ERS Harkfurst could be seen under sail in the distance. He throws back a swig of vodka and groans.
"So… did Endaria hire you as a professional complainer, or are you just naturally a bitch?" Walter remarks, looking up from a book he was reading. Akira, who was sipping on a whiskey and water based grog, snorts and spits out his drink, laughing. He looks at Imad and Walter.
"Damn, how you going to answer to that, Imad?" Akira inquires. Imad shoots Akira a glare, then returns his attention to Walter.
"I don't want to hear that from a person who's name rhymes with water." Imad fires back. Walter raises an eyebrow and cocks his head.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Walter asks.
"You, a blight upon my life, have a name that rhymes with water, which is also, presently, a blight upon my life. So fuck you too." Imad glares at Walter. Walter simply smirks and returns to reading. Imad then looks back out to see before looking at the bow of the ship, where Victor, the squad designated marksman, was sitting, reading as he cleaned his equipment. Like usual, he was by himself. Silently, Imad wondered what all he had seen. Victor wasn't originally a Raider for the Royal Marines. He was an Endarian Agent. He was trained as an assassin, spy, guerilla fighter, interrogator, and tactical analyst. But something had happened to make him transfer a mere few months from completing training, into the Raiders. Had something traumatic gotten him to transfer? It would have had to be severe, agents went through some of the harshest and most intense emotional and mental training of any know unit or organization in Endaria. It would take a lot to break one. At least, that's what Imad thought. He considered asking Victor, but he never worked up the nerve to ask. Prickly and curt were an understatement when it came to Victor. But, the whole squad trusted him with an almost religious fervor. Victor had saved their lives multiple times over. Just as he was considering trying to strike a conversation with Victor, Victor finished cleaning his equipment, stood up, and headed below decks.
"Well, I fold." Kasimir sighs and sets his cards down with a sigh. Tramel looks at him. Jozef and Hans maintain their poker faces.
"Didn't know it was that bad for you Kas. Oh well, good show." Tramel remarks before returning his attention to the game.
"Oh what would you do with a drunken sailor! What would you do with a drunken sai-!" Erik sings loudly, but he is interrupted by a shout from across the room by Tramel and Jozef telling him to shut up. Erik laughs and throws back another long swig of rum.
"You're drunk." Piotr remarks plainly, looking at Erik. Erik looks at him and grins.
"What about it? Nothing else to do. Besides, it helps with the sway of the ship. Ship sways left, you sway right and vice versa." Erik defends himself. Erwin chuckles and Piotr simply shakes his head.
"Well, I mean, it's a valid point, but I don't think you're allowed..." Erwin states.
"Oi! Kas! Can I get drunk!?" Erik calls out to Kasimir.
"Fuck me if I give a shit." Kasimir replies.
"Permission granted." Erik grins and takes another drink. Erwin and Piotr simply shake their heads and sigh.
24th of Brzeszczny, 6E219
Ashcroft Family Estate, Goethel Province, Konig Region
~11:00
It was a warm day and sunny, without a cloud in sight and so, the Ashcroft Estate was abuzz with life. Family members, butlers, and maids meandered through the extensive gardens behind the manor. On the rolling hills on the east flank of the estate, two men and a woman were riding horses. To the west flank, four middle aged men were playing some sort of game in a sand pit, in which a leather ball was kicked or headbutted back and forth between the players. The players could not touch the ball with their hands, and if they dropped the ball, they lost a point. They were laughing, and a butler stood to the side with refreshments for the gentleman. The long path up to the manor from the front of the property on the south side was currently being groomed by servants.
Inside the manor, things were equally idyllic. In the dining room, some of the older men were drinking whiskey and smoking cigars and reminiscing over old stories. One of the younger gentlemen was getting sweet on a maid behind the stairs. Two women were browsing a set of books and maps, talking about vacation plans. In the basement of the manor, Graham Ashcroft was busy fencing. He was dueling with a couple of members of the provincial fencing team, though Graham had a clear advantage. After finishing his current duel, Graham steps out of the ring and lets another duelist take his place. He accepts a glass of water from a butler.
"Good match. I think I'm done for the day though." Graham says as he drinks his water. He looks at the butler. "How long was I practicing?"
"About an hour and a half, Master Ashcroft." The butler reports. Graham nods.
"Very good." Graham comments and brushes his hair out of his eyes, as it had fallen over his face during the duel. Like all of the Ashcroft bloodline, his hair had the iconic Ashcroft silver-white color and his eyes were equally iconic, a pale grey. After finishing his water and handing the empty glass over to the butler, Graham goes into a side room and changes into some more civil clothes. He then heads upstairs. He whistles a tune as he walks into the kitchen and fetches an orange from the pantry. He gets it peeled by the kitchen staff and then heads into the garden where he meets his father.
"Ah, hello Graham. Good to see you, I was about to send for you." Henry Ashcroft calls out to Graham as he walks over.
"Hello, father. What did you need?" Graham asks, his tone, while friendly, suggested there was a little distance between him and his father.
"Well, Endaria has asked a favor of us." Henry informs Graham.
"Oh? In that case, I must be wanted for a diplomatic mission." Graham reasons, nodding. Henry nods in confirmation.
"Indeed. Walk with me." Henry says as he begins to walk through the gardens. He takes two glasses of wine from a butler, handing one to Graham, who accepts it and sips from the glass as he walks alongside his father.
"So, what's my mission?" Graham asks after a moment, breaking the quiet.
"Well, Endaria can't exactly negotiate with the Horde and Alliance both through official methods due the enmity and state of war between the sides. However, Endaria would like to keep itself neutral and to avoid the Horde assuming that Endaria is swaying towards the Alliance, Endaria has asked us to step in and help out by sending an envoy under the guise of the Ashcroft Family Trading Company to negotiate on their behalf." Henry explains, sipping his wine and passing by a water fountain. Graham nods, easily understanding the logic of the mission.
"When am I due to head out?" Graham asks.
"Tomorrow morning. I've rented a drake to fly you to Caer Daegen, where you will hop on one of our ships and sail down the river and to sea. You'll probably be onboard for two months or more, as Orgrimmar is on a separate continent from Stormwind, and it is far more distant." Henry informs Graham, who just nods more and drinks his wine.
"Alright. I'll make sure to be ready. Do you have an introductory letter for me to present to the Horde?" Graham asks. Henry nods and hands Graham two letters. One stamped with the Trading Company seal, the other stamped with the Royal Seal of Endaria. Graham takes them and puts them away. "Very good. I'll go and get packing immediately." Graham finishes his wine and hands the glass to a maid that was nearby. Without a farewell, he leaves his father and heads into the manor to pack.