In a move to control trade inside and outside of the Stillen Ocean, as well as to show the world that Cykoslevinia is still strong, the Cykoslevine army sent a detachment of Marines to the mouth of the Stillen Ocean where it connects to the Moszeiker Sea. The native Tsarisatians, far-distant cousins of the Cykoslevines, were wary of joining the nation at first, but a second detachment of solely Cykoslevine troops assured the people that everything would be fine. Of course, this was not to say that the troops did not meet any resistance, as there were a number of Tsarisatian paramilitary units that attempted to maintain control of the land. Current operations are being engaged. More to report, later.
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CÃbola, La Republica de Cenaesia
The city glistened in the mid-morning sun, a golden hue glinting off of the skyscrapers that dominated the downtown central business district. The logos of major multinational corporations adorned the skyscrapers, and the tallest of the bunch lacked any signage at all- exuding their wealth and opulence with dramatic angles in their post-modernist architecture. Overbearing all though was the castle upon the hill, one of the few sections of the capital that hadn't been leveled. It was a fit for an emperor, its towers bursting forth into the sky and dressed in gold and silver phoenixes which represented the two weights upon the Imperial Crown. The gold of the church and faithful, the leader of the righteous church of Lugh and his subordinate gods. The silver of the state and citizen, the leader of the government and its civil obligations to the people who enabled the crown to exist and perpetuate a cycle of stability and wealth creation.
On this particular morning the traffic on the roads around the palace moved at their normal snail pace, much like traffic in any major cosmopolitan world city. People thronged in front of the gates of the modest grounds that surrounded the Palace, religious pilgrims and tourists alike trying catch glimpses of the complexes true majesty behind the thin layer of trees that separated it from the outside world.
Overhead a helicopter descended, a single main rotor washing air down over the gardens obscured by the treeline. Its exterior was painted a matte black, punctuated by a white phoenix on either side and the crafts serial numbers along the tail. The door slid open, several men in suits exiting carefully. They hunched over, folios in hand as the rotor washed air down upon them, and moved towards the path into the palace. A final man exited the helicopter, his suit of a similar style and cut. He walked towards the palace upright, even as the helicopter buffeted against him, while the crowd of people began to move with more energy than when the first group had passed them.
The press, he thought, frowning on the inside even as he displayed a beaming smile towards them. What will they ask today?
"Your Highness! Your Highness!" Came the shrill calls, each reporter trying to catch his attention shouted while the cameras clicked and clicked and clicked. "Your highness, what is the governments position on the efforts by the Litzische government to assume control over the Tsarisatian Strait?" He paused in his walk, turning more fully towards the crowd. "Take this as the record!" He shouted over the drone of the helicopters rotors, "As Crown Prince with Portfolio in trade relations, I and the government are fully aware of the right to access in the Tsarisatian Strait for trade by the Litzische people. It is their only way to connect by sea with the world year round, and their interests are valid. Yet, these interests do not grant them dominion or sovereignty over the strait. At the narrowest point, the land on either side is Cenaesian. The only state with a legitimate claim to sovereignty over the strait is Cenaesia. Any statement otherwise is a blatant lie, and we stand ready to protect and enforce our laws and our will as is our right." The crown prince resumed his walk, he had said his peace.
Moscou, La Republica de Cenaesia, 2nd Fleet Command
The naval base was particularly large compared to the rest of the cities waterfront, dwarfed only by the cities massive container port. There was a celebratory air to the crowd as it gathered under the cool Autumn sun near the dry dock. It was a list of who's who among military-industrial executive, high ranking naval officers, and various socialites of the nations biggest city. If one glanced about they could see the various ships under construction, submarines just visible from inside their covered construction halls and destroyers in various states ranging from the keel being laid to being fitted out. Today however, the crowd gathered around a slipway aligned parallel to the water, a new submarine waiting to fall into the water. All around the crowd stood uniformed soldiers, mostly MPs, armed and watching over. They were the security detail, and among them were a handful of others in either dress blues or simple black suits. All of these men, and a handful of women, wore simple white gold phoenix with a black trim lapel pendents upon their clothing. They were the ones that inspired fear from those in attendance, the watchful eyes of the Office of Naval Intelligence. They reported not to the War Department, nor the legislature, nor even cabinet. Instead they reported directly to the Crown and his Imperial Majesty. His personal eyes and ears, alert for plots, intrigue, and corruption. They utilized no warrants in their investigations, their authority directly from the crown superseded any court.
The high social class avoided them however, and they blended into the background. Watching. Watching as the submarine was hit with a bottle of champagne, and slid into the water as a dozen frigates, destroyers, and patrol boats watched with their own inanimate gaze several hundred meters away at the active harboring side of the installation. Watching and waiting.
Establishment of the Tsarisatian Governate Today, the Tsarisatians were given their own status as an autonomous Governate of the Litzelands, however, instead of being a subject of the Litzische Autonomous Socialist Republic, they are subjects of the Varsovian Autonomous Socialist Republic, due to cultural and linguistic similarities between the two areas. Many of the old Royalists see this as a travesty, and a good portion of Tsarisatians see it as an unequal compromise, but the Supreme Soviet of the Litzelands has guaranteed that more rights will be granted later on and has signed a document making this "later on" deadlined.