Tsardom of Chernogov

It had been raining but that hadn't stopped the crowds from coming out, swelling so large that the local police had turned to the Army for aid in containing them. It was Mikhail Sudoslav's first deployment to the far flung frontiers of the Tsardom, a backwater called Markatz and as a newly commissioned officer of the Semenovsky Life-Guards Regiment, one of the oldest regiments within the Chernogovian army and the first Imperial Bodyguard regiment established to protect the Tsar. Mikhail would've much rather been fighting against the URCS pigs on the border, but his father a Boyar would never allow his son to go to the frontlines and thus he found himself here. It was supposed to have been a quiet post, but the increasing burden of taxes and the arrest of a local priest of the strange Markatz religion had caused long simmering tension to boil over.

Mikhail hadn't expected the sheer number of people whom continued to press forward, knocking away a thin line of policemen and breaking through makeshift barricades on their march towards the government house to demand the priests release. Except they would have to break through the hardened Imperial Guard to get there. The Colonel edged his way through the mass of troops atop his horse, his hard gaze sweeping through the masses before he spoke. That riding crop held in his gloved hands looking nearly as fierce as any sword.

'' This assembly is unlawful. Return to your homes immediately or you will be dispersed. '' Close to a thousand rifles were lowered to back up the Colonel's threat of 'dispersion'. Everything seemed to come to a standstill and it seemed as if the threat of violence would dissipate the masses, Mikhail could see the crowd slowly begin to creep back as the Guardsman advanced.

Then someone shouted '' DOWN WITH THE TSAR! ''. The cry of defiance came from somewhere in the front rank followed by a loud BANG, Sudoslav didn't even see the flash of the gunshot that blew a fist sized hole through the Colonel's chest and left him slumping over his horse.

'' FIRE! KILL THEM ALL! '' A voice he recognized as Corporal Razov spread through his section, the call was picked up. '' BELAY THAT! '' Sudoslav screamed but his voice was carried away by the first smattering of gushots from the front rank o Guardsman, the handful of shots turned to a roar as the rest of the regiment joined in during the confusion. Some officers ordering their men to stop, others ordering that they fire. Two volleys of fire sprung free from the rifles of the soldiers and by the time order had been restored and the command to cease fire had circulated through the ranks, it had been done. The street was choked with corpses and the wounded, the crowd had been 'put down' but Sudoslav knew even then the repercussions of the event. So much blood and there would be more to come.

Thirty Two Years Later
Field Marshal Mikhail Sudoslav awoke in a cold sweat, instinctively reaching for the cross that was around his neck. His heart was racing as he pushed himself from his soaked sheets and stumbled towards the bathroom, splashing his face with water before he stared at himself in the mirror.

No trace of the boy he had been at Markatz remained, his features were weathered now, hardened. Gray was now the predominant color of what remained of his close cropped hair where once it had been black as coal. Where once had been smooth soft skin was now replaced with scarred flesh. A bayonet wound extended down his left eye towards his cheek, leaving him both blind in one eye and disfigured. Those hadn't been his only wounds, he had more. Both visible and invisible from Markatz, Demuon, and against those URCS 'pigs' that he had despised and still did. '' Hah, at least not all things have to change. '' Sudoslav said with a bitter laugh.

A deep breath rattled from his lungs as he began to regain the composure. It had been the same dream that he had since a young man, but now in his old age it was becoming more frequent. Was he going insane or were the years just catching up to him? Those events had happened a long time ago, in a different Chernogov, and under a different Tsar. Thing's had changed now..and he had a duty. A scowl flitted over that marred visage before his deep voice belted through the room no doubt awakening his sleeping adjutant for the day's events. It was nearly dawn.

SUMMARY:
General Mikhail Sudoslav recalls the event that triggered the November Uprising in the province of Markatz.

Republic of Markatz / Near Disputed Border:
The crack of rifle fire was nearly incessant broken only by the guttural and barbaric tongue of the Markatzan partisans as the truck growled forward. Colonel Dmitri Ivanovich of the Third Department was hardly eager to meet with the Partisans, they were a crude and brutal lot. But in war, the Tsar had to utilize even the most unlikely of allies to achieve his ends. And why not? These men were expendable as far as the Cheka was concerned.

It was a crisp and clear morning when the Colonel finally stepped out of the truck, behind him was a small column of vehicles. A security detachment from the Okrahana wasn't far behind the Colonel. A sergeant panned the area with his sub machine gun as the sound of gunfire slowly ebbed and faded. His compatriots forming up around the Colonel. The partisans also called the 'Black Front' had been using their new Chernogovian rifles to great effect Dmitri observed. More than one dummy target had his head blown clean off.

Eventually from the line of partisans stepped forward a squat and ugly man. His face marred by a Chernogovian bayonet that had removed most of his left ear and a good chunk of his nose. His name was Horus Enki, former guerilla that had fought in the Uprising against the Tsar and now back under his old masters thumb. Just like the good dog he was. No doubt Horus thought he was using Dmitri but it was quite opposite.

'' Colonel. '' Horus said gruffly, hacking out a huge gob of phlegm to the ground before his ugly mutilated face split into a grin. '' Good of you to join us. I trust that you have brought my weapons. ''

'' And close to a million rounds of ammunition. As per our agreement. '' The Colonel replied, stripping off his gloves as he motioned for two of the soldiers with him to seize a crate from the truck. With a grunt, they hefted it from the vehicles and with a pair of crowbars managed to wrench it open, the sound of splitting wood piercing the morning calm. Once the coffin lid had been opened, its cargo became evident as Dmitri picked up one of the 7.62 mm cartridges and held it up for inspection. Dmitri wasn't worried about the rifles being traced back to Chernogov, even though it was fairly obvious to anyone that they were supplying the insurgents. But the fact that Chernogov supplied weapons to many of the nations on its border, including the Republic of Markatz gave it a theory of plausible deniability.

'' Now, fulfill your part of the bargain I want Markatzan military locations scouted and cross border raids to be conducted. I want worthwhile prisoners to interrogate. ''

'' You'll get it, as long as your Tsar keeps sending us the guns. We'll never stop fighting for our freedom. '' Horus said curling his fingers into a fist.

'' I'm touched by your patriotism. '' Dmitri said dryly before turning on his heel to stride back towards his staff car.

SUMMARY:
-Chernogov begins arming insurgents with new weapons and orders cross border raids by partisan units to hit strategic targets within Marktaz.

The Empire had been rotting for decades now, with the occasional coat of fresh paint thrown over the rust to hide the corrosive spread of the corruption. It had become apparent in the Cherno-Fuso War of 1899 how far the Imperial military had fallen. Antiquated tactics, aging equipment, old Generals who had still been campaigning when armies faced each other scarcely a few hundred yards separating them. Old men who couldn't understand the bloody weapons they employed nor the lives they wasted by throwing their soldiers away in fruitless assaults. The Fusanese had been thought little more than monkeys who couldn't shoot straight. That notion had quickly been dispelled at battle's like Miyako and the charge of the Streltsy at Ryuku*.

The catastrophe of the November Uprising and the Tsardom's war with the URRS had nearly lead to a crushing defeat. But out of catastrophe, the Tsar and his closest advisors had come to realize that the armchair Generals, the Boyars that had promised so much, had failed him. General's were sacked, the renowned and feared Imperial Bodyguard traded in their horses for tanks and was turned into a ceremonial force. The great army purge as it was called had ravaged the ranks, the Tsar replacing his father's men with experienced line officers. The day's when the nobility could buy commissions within the Imperial Army were over as was Imperial favoritism.

It was amusing, through disaster and decay, the Army to an extent had become a meritocracy. It had to be. Four wars within twenty years had left the Chernogovian army with one of the most experienced and veteran forces in the world. It was that experience that had enabled the army to crush the first sizable invasion of the Chernogovian heartland in a century by the Demuon and re-occupy a large part of Markatz with relative ease.
Mikhail Chevesky allowed his fingertips to trade over a map of the continent, his features long since weathered from age, but those eyes still retained their sharpness.

'' I trust the plans have been put into motion, Count Orlov? '' The head of the Third Department otherwise known to the peasants as the Cheka were the Tsar's feared and hated secret police. The Cheka had gained a notorious reputation during the Markatz Suppression in rounding up thousands of partisans in Markatz and making them disappear. Either in shallow graves or in labor camps deep in Tsarist Chernogov. Chevesky, a Field Marshal during the November Uprising was aware of the extent that Orlov had gone to crush the insurrection. The two to say the least had a strong working relationship. But..Chevesky still shuddered to think what Orlov had in his secret files. It was rumored that the man had files on everyone within the Tsar's inner circle, and perhaps even on the Tsar himself.

'' Indeed old friend. My agents have been put into place. We shall be hearing of their results, whether for good or ill in the coming weeks. '' Orlov was a thin and bald man, with a short clipped wintry beard.

'' Let us hope for good. The General's are growing itchy. '' Chevesky said, eyeing Orlov as he made an irritated noise in his throat.

'' The General Staff can go to hell. They'll get what they want, in time. '' The Count murmured standing.

'' Operation Spring Awakening will ensure to that. '' Orlov muttered darkly before leaving the room, a trail of aides following after him. Chevesky went back to staring at the map. Soon borders were going to be re-drawn. The question was who's?

---------------
The charge of the Streltsy Brigade at Battle of Ryuku was ordered by Lieutenant General Rokasofski during the Cherno-Fuso War of 1899 at the Battle of Ryuku. It's objective was to overrun a Fusanese entrenched artillery unit. The Streltsy braved 300 yards of intense gatling machine guns, canister shot, and rifle fire before reaching the enemy. While the objective was taken, the brigade took 92% casualties, with only one officer Captain Yuri Romanov surviving the event. Ironically, Romanov would later be appointed as ambassador to the Empire of Fusan twenty years later.