Alexisgrad

You should have seen this coming, you suppose. No, that’s not fair, you did see this coming. But that was weeks ago. That was lifetimes ago. You were in session when the news came, a now completely irrelevant meeting of the new education committee. You were proud of that committee, and all the committees of the new Republic. You had only just learnt their names. Two teachers, two workers, a former ‘bourgeois socialist’, three senators and you, the people’s Dictator. That is what they had been before. After the officer ran in, covered in mud and sweat, they were one screamer, one fainter, two blusterers, one suicide and three who simply got up and left. And you, of course. You who now sits alone in the room, realising how it all went so wrong. There is no reproach in Senator Ivanov’s eye, the eye that was not blown out of his head as he silently drew his pistol and shot himself then and there in his seat. That’s when Zaytseva had fainted. Both still lie there, one dead, the other one merely blissfully unaware. You wonder for a moment how long they will be there. Probably until the Kingdom’s forces move them out, sending Zaytseva back to her textile mill - if you are remembering what she did before correctly - and throwing Ivanov into some unmarked grave, unknown and unmourned. He wasn’t a bad man, Ivanov. He had always been an adversary of yours, back when you were both just senators, but he did actually care about the Republic. Not its people, not really, but there had been some genuine feeling there for the concept of the Republic. He risked a lot, politically and physically, defending its ideals during the Night’s Revolution. How long ago was that? Those few days when the city was transformed into a sea of flags, the Republican blue and white and the socialist reds, each stained heavy with blood. A conflict that was so often boiled down to ‘freedom’ against ‘equality’; or ‘bourgeois’ against ‘proletariat’; or ‘state’ against ‘anarchy’ but was really much, much more than any or all of those. It had seemed like the fight to end all fights, the final deciding chapter, the fate of humanity decided once and for all beneath the unyielding black sky. Now, suddenly and brutally painfully, it just feels stupid. An hour ago you had been hopeful, even happy, the people’s chosen leader of the new government, equally a senator and a socialist, pulling the city and, with work, the whole world forward with your program of socialist republicanism. For a time Alexisgrad had been something great. What time? Almost two weeks. The first meeting of the education committee had been its last. Definitely? Probably. Why? Why had Ivanov shot himself, why had Zaytseva fainted? The Kingdom is here. Four years ago the war had ended. The Republic, many generations ago a district of the Kingdom, reasserted its independence by pushing back a Kingdom attack. Or: four years ago the war had ended. The Republic, long hemmed in by ocean and inhospitable frozen mountains, sued for a status quo peace after failing to make any great gains against its technologically inferior but populous southern neighbour. Even as a senator, it is difficult to know which one is true. But you had joined in the festivities with all the others when the peace treaty was signed. But what good is a piece of paper now, with the King’s troops marching through streets still dirty with the tragic mess of war? How was a new government, less than two weeks old, supposed to take the already battered remains of an urban militia and form a defence against the imperial might of one of the best organised armies in the world? Technology and zeal had won the last war with the Kingdom. Co-operation and compromise had ended the revolution that started less than three weeks ago today. None of those would work now, in the smouldering remains of the once great city of Alexisgrad. Which is why, you suppose, you are still here, the only conscious member of the New Republican Education Committee still remaining. You shouldn’t stay here, even if you were told to stay put within the Senate chambers; the forces are out on the street and they will see to your safety when they can. There has been enough manoeuvring in the last weeks to make you wonder for a moment whether this is part of a military coup, whether Lebedeva, the old Republican Minister for Defense, or maybe one of the generals, has just taken power without you even noticing. But if they have, they have taken control of a state that’s about to be on the losing side of a crushing military defeat. No, you will deal with that if, and it is a remote if, the Republic comes out the other side of this. In this moment you have to think of the here and now, and you have to think about yourself. [[Try to find some guards, any guards, for personal protection.]] [[Try to escape this whole thing, flee the Senate building and just keep running.]] [[Just go to the building’s grand balcony and watch.]]

(set: $1b = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''1b'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"a1")[(set: $a1 = "True")(goto: "Find yourself some guards")] (link:"a2")[(set: $a2 = "True")(goto: "Find yourself some guards")] (link:"a3")[(set: $a3 = "True")(goto: "Find yourself some guards")]]

(set: $1c = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''1c'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"a1")[(set: $a1 = "True")(goto: "Try to sneak out and go home")] (link:"a2")[(set: $a2 = "True")(goto: "Try to sneak out and go home")] (link:"a3")[(set: $a3 = "True")(goto: "Try to sneak out and go home")]]

(set: $1a = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''1a'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"a1")[(set: $a1 = "True")(goto: "Watch from the senate balcony")] (link:"a2")[(set: $a2 = "True")(goto: "Watch from the senate balcony")] (link:"a3")[(set: $a3 = "True")(goto: "Watch from the senate balcony")]]

You walk through the halls of the Senate building, surrounded by a very quiet chaos. Most of the screaming and weeping has either ended or moved away, those who were tearing their hair out still aware on some level of the gravitas of the building, reluctant even as their world fell apart to vent their ugly human emotions in these hallowed halls. Quite literally hallowed, you remind yourself as you step past a large hall that now contains no-one but a furiously writing clerk and push open the small side door to the balcony. These bricks were laid by the once living god Dominike the Builder, the third god of the Republic Pantheon. You hear gunfire in the distance and your eyes travels south to Liberty Way, where it appears your troops are making their stand. You watch the Kingdom’s men, so small looking from up here, confer for a time before (if: $a1 is "True")[someone in that crowd gives the order to attack and the forces charge forward, close enough for you to hear every crack of every rifle, but not quite close enough for you to see the blood.](else-if: $a2 is "True")[they, their force already too large, far too large, are joined by another contingent, mostly cavalry.](else:)[a small group of them break off and disappear into the maze of streets that makes up most of Alexisgrad.] Someone coughing behind you makes you turn to see a soldier, someone you recognise but could not name “Senator, oh...erm, sorry, Dictator. The Minister for War, no, sorry, Defence, the Minister of Defence wants to speak to you. I’ll take you to her.” [[No, bring Minister Lebedeva here.]] [[Of course, lead the way.]]

You walk through the halls of the Senate building, surrounded by a very quiet chaos. Most of the screaming and weeping has either ended or moved away, those tearing their hair out still aware on some level of the gravitas of the building, reluctant even as their world fell apart to vent their ugly human emotions in these hallowed halls. Eventually you find some guards, security forces only slightly more able and loyal than the mercenaries whom traders use to protect their caravans from bandits. The kind of people who are paid to secure government institutions in a state where, until a couple of weeks ago, the government institutions did not need protection. Oh, the democracy had seemed so strong. You are disappointed to see that you were right to guess that they would be in the food hall. You cannot blame them for acting as if the end times have come. They do not try to hide the crates of wine that they have liberated from the kitchen staff, nor the roast that was probably meant for you and your ministers that now lies half eaten on the floor, but they do stand to a shaky attention when they realise who you are. You are just organising them, making them run through their drills of checking rifles, bayonets and uniforms, when you hear a cough behind you that makes you turn to see a soldier, someone you recognise but could not name. “Senator, oh...erm, sorry, Dictator. The Minister for War, no, sorry, Defence, the Minister of Defence wants to speak to you. I’ll take you to her.” [[No, bring Minister Lebedeva here.]] [[Of course, lead the way.]]

As you walk through the halls of the Senate building, returning to your office to grab the coin and winter clothes you will probably need, you are surrounded by a very quiet chaos. Most of the screaming and weeping has either ended or moved away, those tearing their hair out still aware on some level of the gravitas of the building, reluctant even as their world fell apart to vent their ugly human emotions in these hallowed halls. Still, everyone left within the building is falling apart in a different way. Here a clerk furiously writes as much of...something down as he can, quite possibly attempting to preserve a bit of his soul before his body is shattered by a royalist bullet. Here are some of the kitchen staff, trying to make their way through as much of the cellar’s contents as possible. And here is a servant, staring at a painting of the once living god Alexis, first of the Republic Pantheon, tears running down his cheek as he clutches a piece of crumpled paper to his chest. You do not see any hope. You suppose that those who thought they could do something have already left. Then why are //you// still here? No time for such thoughts. You reach your office and pull together the first things that come to hand, in and out again in less than a minute. But no. A soldier, someone you recognise but could not name, blocks your path. “Senator, oh...erm, sorry, Dictator. The Minister for War, no, sorry, Defence, the Minister of Defence wants to speak to you. I’ll take you to her.” [[No, bring Minister Lebedeva here.]] [[Of course, lead the way.]]

(set: $2a = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''2a'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"b1")[(set: $b1 = "True")(goto: "Bring minister")] (link:"b2")[(set: $b2 = "True")(goto: "Bring minister")] (link:"b3")[(set: $b3 = "True")(goto: "Bring minister")] (link:"b4")[(set: $b4 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b5")[(set: $b5 = "True")(goto: "Bring minister")] (link:"b6")[(set: $b6 = "True")(goto: "Bring minister")]]

(set: $2b = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''2b'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"b1")[(set: $b1 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b2")[(set: $b2 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b3")[(set: $b3 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b4")[(set: $b4 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b5")[(set: $b5 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")] (link:"b6")[(set: $b6 = "True")(goto: "Go to minister")]]

The last two days have been tough, both on you and your men. It began to snow yesterday, the first light frosting that, even in this dark, is beautiful. But the wonder did not, could not, last long. The snow is a reminder of something that none of your men need to be reminded of. It’s cold. And on a long dark march with no lanterns and no fires, with only the moon, the stars and your own body heat, it feels even colder. But that, of course, is why you are here. You know and the King knows that there is very little chance that the Republicans could have been ready for this darkness, this level of cold. They will will be drowning in chaos while your monarch maintains order. They will have drained their energy, their will, fighting the darkness and now they will have nothing left with which to fight you. Their land, and their resource stores, their factories and their knowledge, will be yours within a matter of hours. You had been going back and forth on whether you should march dark, but seeing Alexisgrad for the first time two days ago made up your mind for you. You had been naive, you realise, to have expected the city to look how it had the last time you were here as the military representative of a diplomatic envoy five years ago. Then too you had first seen the city at night, your small royal contingent outnumbered three to one by your Republican ‘honour guard’, and back then it had glowed. The light echoed around itself, escaping confused from the layers of smog and smoke, yellow puss escaping from a wound. You had hoped that light, the way that it blinds the city and turned the night sky into a hazy orange mirror, would cover your approach, but now in this infernal night without end Alexisgrad merely shimmers, twinkles of small lights like scum on the surface of a lake. Even so, as you march through the streets blown apart and deserted by some unknown turmoil, you can still smell smoke. You are the first contingent of the Kingdom to arrive, but it is clear you are not the first to bring death to these streets. You came through the southern gates, the main entrance to the city, but faced only minimal resistance: a few Republican guards, surprisingly loyal but woefully underprepared. Republican citizens have scattered before you since your forces split into three columns to better navigate city streets littered with rubble, bodies and slogans: some here socialist, some there Republican. A part of your mind, a small part not taken up by the watchfulness of battlefield command, wondered whether the Republic had already fallen, but now you see that it has not. Finally, a line of resistance, a sudden cordon of Republic soldiers blocks your path towards the Senate, and just at the point you had been expecting resistance. The road is called ‘Liberty Way’ now, but from the city plans you have studied by starlight every night while preparing for this assault, you know you are on what used to be ‘Monarch’s Way’. It's the main artery in the old part of the city, the central core built by your people long before the rebellious uprising that created the Republic and rechristened this city ‘Alexisgrad’. But history can wait, what concerns you now is the future and what stands between you and it. You have already rejected the notion of pushing your way painfully through the little back alleys of central Alexisgrad, losing your men to cramped dead ends and rudimentary traps. No, you will break through as the first brigade of the King’s army should, marching straight down Liberty Way, the only entrance to the centre of Republican power large enough to safely take you. Which means getting past the line of hard-faced soldiers ahead of you. There is the sound of screaming and a round of gunshots, and Colonel Bechtholdt’s regiment appears from one of the larger side streets. He nods to you from his position at the front, spurring his stallion on and dismounting when he comes up beside you. “Just as we thought then General. Minimal civilian resistance, easily dealt with, and the main force across Monarch’s Way.” Colonel Bechtholdt sneers at the enemy line, and then takes his sneer and moves it around the general area. “Major Pruefer’s division is not here yet, I see. I...well, you know my opinions there.” A small group of civilians, crudely armed, dashes from a building and begins to head south. Bechtholdt gives a little nod of his head and his guards put them down. Some of your own men flinch from the sudden gunfire, and you see some who would usually have been stationed with Major Pruefer let out little gasps of shock at the brutality, but Bechtholdt takes your attention before you can react. “So, what do we do? The Republicans are ill prepared for us, that much is clear. This will be the only real defence they’ve thrown up yet, I would guess. Straight through I would advise, sir, before they can barricade the Senate. "Or were you waiting for Pruefer’s cavalry? I wouldn’t advise it sir. Not worth the wait. "But I await your orders, whatever they are. Sir.” Colonel Bechtholdt, some far removed relative of the King’s, smiles thinly at you and pulls himself back onto his horse, leaving you with the decision of what to do. [[Follow Bechtholdt’s advice and order a charge.]] [[Wait for Major Pruefer and his cavalry.]] [[Take a small contingent and find some way to flank the enemy line.]] (set: $Kingdom = "True")

(set: $a1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''a1'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"1a")[(set: $1a = "True")(goto: "Give the order to push")] (link:"1b")[(set: $1b = "True")(goto: "Give the order to push")] (link:"1c")[(set: $1c = "True")(goto: "Give the order to push")]]

(set: $a2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''a2'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"1a")[(set: $1a = "True")(goto: "Wait for reinforcements")] (link:"1b")[(set: $1b = "True")(goto: "Wait for reinforcements")] (link:"1c")[(set: $1c = "True")(goto: "Wait for reinforcements")]]

(set: $a3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''a3'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"1a")[(set: $1a = "True")(goto: "Break off a contingent")] (link:"1b")[(set: $1b = "True")(goto: "Break off a contingent")] (link:"1c")[(set: $1c = "True")(goto: "Break off a contingent")]]

You look over your men and see in an instant the little knots they have formed, their semi-conscious division into two: a division which, to a certain extent, transcends rank, but a division that any able commander can spot in a moment. Your men have split themselves into those who have, and those who haven’t. It’s not a simple matter of killing, although that is part of it. Nor is it a matter of who chose to serve and who was drafted, or even who has served before and who hasn’t. Many of your men, most of your men - the last war ended only four years ago after all - have //felt// war. It has entered them through their eyes, through their ears, through every hole and every pore of their body. It has twisted their souls, sharpened it here, hardened it there and in some places just deadened it. The pride they feel when they hear the drums and the trumpets is one earned in mud and blood and musket powder. They are the ones you need. The ones who understand that what will save them from the death waiting within the enemy’s gun barrels isn’t bravery, heroics and sacrifice, but awareness, fear, cunning and luck. You make your selection. It is clear what you are doing, and anyone who meets your eyes with a puffed up chest and valiant smile is rejected. If they are trying to prove their bravery to you, chances are they are also trying to prove it to themselves. It is not long before you have the first few lines ready, all men who know, as much as any living man can, what it is to die for their king and country. The question, the question that they try not to throw at your feet with their looks, is who will lead them? [[Lead them yourself.]] [[Command Colonel Bechtholdt to lead them.]]

You look over your men as you wait for Major Pruefer and see in an instant the little knots they have formed, their semi-conscious division in two, a division which, to a certain extent, transcends rank, but a division that any able commander can spot in a moment. Your men have split themselves into those who have, and those who haven’t. It’s not a simple matter of killing, although that is part of it. Nor is it a matter of who chose to serve and who was drafted, or even who has served before and who hasn’t. Many of your men, most of your men - the last war ended only four years ago after all - have //felt// war. It has entered them through their eyes, through their ears, through every hole and every pore of their body. It has twisted their souls, sharpened it here, hardened it there and in some places just deadened it. The pride they feel when they hear the drums and the trumpets is one earned in mud and blood and musket powder. There is the sound of running and a group of civilians pours into the wide street, sees your troops and veers away to the south. A moment later the striking of hooves on cobbles announces the arrival of Major Pruefer, smiling from his position at the front of his cavalry unit. “Nothing to report General, just a nice quiet ride through the city.” He salutes you as he comes alongside you. “Something bad happened here sir, I’m sure you’ve noticed. Looks like they’ve had their own problems, should hopefully make them ready to concede quickly. But anyway, I see you were as bright as always General, they’re right where you thought they’d be. What’s your next plan?” [[I need you to take the cavalry and charge their line.]] [[I'm going to lead the cavalry and charge their line.]]

A commander is not like a parent: //you// are allowed, encouraged, to have favourites. Of course, worrying about this thought does not even cross your mind. Perhaps if you were a Republican general, this would worry you, sworn as you would then be to uphold the principles of democracy, equality and liberty, but you are only sworn to the King. That some people are better than others is something that has been drilled into you for as long as you have been alive. And so you pick the best. Watchful, agile, fit, intelligent and, of course, experts in the art of killing. Every good General knows which of his men are soldiers and which are killers. For a soldier is not a killer. Yes, soldiers kill, but that is not what they are. A soldier deals in orders and objectives, training and strategies. Soldiers will kill in the same way and for the same reasons as they march or dig trenches or patrol. Killers are different. You do not know whether the difference stems from motivation or execution. Whether they feel differently about it because when they kill they do it with an artist’s flair and a scientist’s compulsive precision, or if they do those things because the taking of a life is worth something to them in itself, something more than the result of an order or a part of a strategy, or more even than the venting of rage. For a soldier, the taking of a human life can at best be an achievement, a job well done or a proof of courage or skill. For a killer, it is more. For a killer, the means and the ends are switched. Soldiers kill in order to fulfil orders or strategies. A killer follows orders and strategies in order to kill. These are the men you take with you. Dangerous men, certainly, but this is what they are made to do, this is why you keep them close. Behind enemy lines a professional killer, a man who kills for both duty and art, is exactly what you need to create the fear and chaos needed to break the line. Men who will not only not hesitate to take another human’s life, but will embrace it. Finding the men is not difficult. They are, as always, ready. The question that remains, however, is the practical one. The houses, you are sure, will either be barricaded, broken or guarded. So you must go over, or under if you wish to move freely. The question is, which? [[Use your old maps of the old city’s sewer system and go under the line.]] [[Take your men up over the roofs.]]

(set: $b1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b1'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Lead the charge")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Lead the charge")]]

(set: $b2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b2'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead the charge")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead the charge")]]

(set: $b3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b3'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Cavalry charge")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Cavalry charge")]]

(set: $b5 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b5'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Go through the sewer")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Go through the sewer")]]

(set: $b6 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b6'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Go over the roofs")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Go over the roofs")]]

The line is ready, so you must be too. “This”, you begin, “is the moment that we take the Republic. This is the moment for which your brothers died in the last war. Some of you will be heroes, some will be martyrs. The former will receive medals, the latter a memorial, here on Monarch’s Way when this is once again the second city of the Kingdom. "Now we correct the course of history. For the King!” The crowd echoes you, and as one, you charge. Nothing for the first few feet, the illusion of flying, the creeping feeling of safety. Then bullets fly past you. The first //thud// as one finds its mark. If there is a scream you do not notice it: such things are distractions. You keep your ears open and eyes constantly moving to take in other things, every other thing. Orders issue from your mouth without you even thinking, a mechanical process of information in, information out that happens semi-autonomously, your conscious brain just flicking through the checklist of positions and what each little change means. The charge is frantic, as it always is, but it neither breaks down nor locks up. Your troops keep moving forward and they keep shooting. You are proud of your men, although you will only realise that later, when your mind has space for anything else. Cannon. How you noticed it, you cannot say, but it is there, stealthily wheeled to the front of the enemy line. Without letting any of your other tasks slip, you estimate the make, then the yield, then the fly distance of that yield. That gives you the strike zone. Assuming competence on the part of your adversaries and predicting positioning, that gives you the likely strike time. A hurried bark, a feint executed with lightning speed and the cannon shot thuds into nothing. Then you order the bayonet charge. A high rate of casualty, but less, you judge, than continuing the slower approach now that the cannon has been introduced. The smell of blood cuts through the reek of gunpowder as you ride closer. Bayonets are savage weapons, replacing skill and precision with strength and blind courage. But knives, gutting and slashing, are worse, and that is what the close quarters have forced both sides to resort to by the time, only a few seconds behind the rest, you reach the front line. You do not sink so low, but then from horseback you do not have to. You draw your sabre, a gift from your father, and wade in, your reach and height ensuring your safety, as much as that is possible, within the chaos of the melee. It is over quickly. Your legs and left arm, you sword arm, are heavy with blood, but as the red haze clears and you mentally check your body, you realise that none of it is yours. “All clear general.” One of your lieutenants informs you. You nod. No point waiting though. You have initiative, you should push it. You quickly restock the front line and, tired enough to let your subordinates lead the march, you push on towards the Senate building. It's a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was rechristened as Alexisgrad, which makes it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us, our reports indicate that they are usually open. //Democracy//.” Bechtholdt rolls his eyes. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up behind you. “We have no intelligence General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

The line of Colonel Bechtholdt’s mouth is tight as he rides back up to you. “You’re sending me in, yes? Are you hoping that I won’t come back?” Bechtholdt does not wait for your reply, instead riding straight off to the front of the line that you have already made ready. He does one final check, nods, turns to face the enemy, draws his pistol and shoots into the air. There is no pause before the movement begins, and then only a moment or two before the shooting follows. The charge is frantic, as it always is, but it neither breaks down nor locks up. Your troops keep moving forward and they keep shooting. You are proud. Which is not to underestimate Colonel Bechtholdt’s contribution. His head spins, his body contorts as he watches every angle of the battlefield, shouting orders and always keeping just far enough back to give him a clear picture, but also far enough forward to bolster his troops. A cannon booms. Dust and rock fly from the impact site, blocking your view. You hear more screams than you did before. You curse as you send the third line in, the second already moving swiftly up the road. You are about to give the order to fall back, a second cannon shot echoing down the street and a shop window exploding outward, when you see Colonel Bechtholdt charging, his line scrabbling to keep up. There is a moment of confusion, you are too far away to see it on your enemies’ faces but you can tell from their actions that it is there. Then they take aim. The Colonel timed it perfectly. His horse rears, on command you are sure, and Bechtholdt stands in the stirrups, perpendicular to the ground and parallel to his steed’s back, sighting down his pistol as the bullets thump into the stallion’s chest. The horse begins to fall, backwards, but after emptying the twin barrel of its two shots Bechtholdt is already jumping, rolling away from the side from which he shot and quickly covered by his advancing line. After that the discipline breaks down. You lose your Colonel in the crowd as the back lines begin to fill in. The sounds of shots diminishes as your men, and the Republic’s, turn to bayonets and then knives. As you follow from the back, the wounds of the dying and dead men become more brutal the further on you go: simple bullet holes to bayonet wounds to gaping knife gashes. Colonel Bechtholdt is covered in blood and filth when he saunters up to you. “The line is secured sir. We shouldn’t wait to move against the Senate.” You agree, so the front line is hurriedly restocked and you push on towards the Senate building, a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was renamed Alexisgrad, making it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us: our reports indicate that they are usually open. //Democracy//.” Bechtholdt rolls his eyes. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up behind you. “We have no intelligence, General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

Major Pruefer’s adam’s apple twitches. “Of course general. A cavalry charge will clear the line as quickly as possible. Minimum casualties. "I will just say, mine is the only cavalry division here with the front force…” The Major gives you a sideways glance, and then coughs guiltily. “Of course. I will make ready.” Major Pruefer rides away, absent mindedly patting his stallion. Most of the rest of his men are less sentimental about their horses. The majority of the King’s cavalry, as specialised units, are veterans. They are the ones who //have//. It does not take long for them to get ready. You stand with the second line, hardened foot soldiers who know enough to not charge under the hooves of panicked horses. “Men,” Major Pruefer begins, riding down his line for a final inspection, “I am proud of you. Today, tonight, we take the Republic. //You// take the Republic. With this charge, we will see the end of generations of conflict. Your wives and children at home will forever be able to live in a world free of the terror that one day the northern rabble will charge into their homes to defile and murder them. "I hate that some of you will die. But we do this for peace. We do this for love. "We do this for the King!” There is a cheer, and then with a gunshot the charge begins. It is chaotic, disorganised, but it is quick. The cavalry men are highly trained, the best of the northern garrisons were selected for this task. They dash forward, islands of precision and ferocity. The line quickly breaks, horses peppered with bullets and collapsing with enough force to send up dirt and cobbles, men shot through heart and head and leaving their steeds to rear and turn to be shot by your approaching line. You see the Republicans wheel out a cannon, but its operator is one of the first to fall to the riders’ swords. Your approach is slowed by the many piles of twitching meat that moments ago had been thoroughbreds. You order your men to use them as barricades, popping blood and muscle tissue with each enemy bullet that finds them, but soon they are nothing but impediments as the front line dissolves into the enemy, turning the battle into a bloody, chaotic melee. Horses make large targets for bayonets. The front line is almost gone, Major Pruefer one of only a handful still astride their steeds, when your line crashes into the fray like a wave, brushing aside the Republican soldiers whose officers had been attempting, hastily, in a panic, to form into an effective defence. Casualties are minimal. At least on your side. And not counting horses. “Victory!”, a beaming Pruefer declares as he rides towards you. But not yet. You let Pruefer keep his momentum and give him command of the new front line, almost exclusively on foot now, and he pushes on towards the Senate building, a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was renamed Alexisgrad, making it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us, our reports indicate that they are usually open. //Democracy//.” Bechtholdt, who joined the front line after the initial push, rolls his eyes. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up beside you. “We have no intelligence General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

The stink seeps, rather than engulfs. It is unavoidable, all the different smells of different rots that humanity produces, but it does not hold you down and drown you, the smell is not so ripe that you are forced to retch. You wade through other people’s filth in the pitch black. Only a desperate man or a fool brings an open flame into an unknown sewer. The chance of hitting a gas pocket is low, but you do not wish to take that risk. You pray to your god that your informants did not lie when they said that your plans for the sewers were still accurate, that in all its time the builders of the Republic never felt the need to alter the fundamental workings of this part of the network. You have never liked the dark, and with the cold, wet stone closing in from left, right and above, and the noxious, viscous liquid lining the ground beneath, your mind begins to throw you visions of being stuck down here, lost while the sounds of battle die off above you and you fall, the fumes finally bringing you down until you lie drowning in other people’s shit. And then the vanguard sends back the signal and you stop. It is worse when you are not moving. At least before it felt as if you were trying to escape the smell. Now it feels as if you have surrendered to it. Then there is a grating sound and light and fresh, cool night air, the smells of soot and smoke like a blessing, and you are climbing out. The street that you have chosen is, as you had hoped, deserted. Your men fan out, naturally drawn to the shadows, and you begin to move towards the enemy line. Once you hear the twang of a crossbow, and follow the swift blur of a bolt to see a civilian who had just walked onto his balcony slump dead. A beggar, sleeping by the side of the road, is dealt with by a knife. It is unlikely he was going to wake during the brief moment that you are passing, but better safe than sorry. Then there is the line. What looks like the command centre, operating out of a requisitioned fruit shop, is some way across and you decide to leave it. You have spotted something more important. A cannon. Your instructions are brief, little more than pointing to the war machine. Your men understand. One indicates an alcove, a good point for you to maintain your overview and provide supporting fire, and then they spread out. Some break into a nearby house, silently dispatch the residents and take up sniping positions. A saboteur and a box of small hand-held explosives follow them. The rest take up their individual positions, ready to perform darting knife attacks in and out of cover, or simply to provide covering and defensive fire. You know enough about your men’s tactics to know that the first round of sniper fire and the first bomb will have been timed to go off simultaneously, but it is hard to catch the precise shots when your eyes are unavoidably turned to the cannon’s crew being blown apart or laced with shrapnel. What follows is perfectly choreographed chaos. The near section of the enemy’s line is down in seconds, some of the most skilled close quarters fighters in the kingdom, supported by expert marksmen, cutting down a swathe of distracted enemy soldiers one second, then disappearing back into cover the moment their opposition realises what is going on. Some try, vainly, to dislodge your men from their position, but most realise what is happening. A gratifying number simply break and flee into their city. The rest are met by the front line and die quickly. You don’t let the momentum of the charge falter and send the soldiers off to push on towards the Senate building, a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was renamed Alexisgrad, making it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us, our reports indicate that they are usually open. //Democracy//.” Bechtholdt, who lead the front line, says. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up behind you. “We have no intelligence General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

The view is more interesting than it is aesthetic. The city is flat and wide, a dropped egg allowed to spill out and run. Even the Senate building, the heart of the Republic, is low and squat. Only the churches, cathedrals and dockside cranes produce anything like a skyline, the rest is all just slowly deteriorating roofs, shining black slate giving way to raw brick or timber and then just pieces of scrap or fabric. You do not have long to look. Your men set a quick pace, this work is more familiar to them than it is to you. Once you lose your footing and smash your knee hard into a chimney, and though you can already feel the bruise building and know that you will be limping heavily before the night is out, you are never in any real danger and you make it down swiftly and silently. The street that you have chosen to descend into is, as you had hoped, deserted. Your men fan out, naturally drawn to the shadows, and you begin to move towards the enemy line. Once you hear the twang of a crossbow, and follow the swift blur of a bolt to see a civilian who had just walked onto his balcony slump dead. A beggar, sleeping by the side of the road, is dealt with by a knife. It is unlikely he was going to wake during the brief moment that you are passing, but better safe than sorry. Then there is the line. What looks like the command centre, operating out of a requisitioned fruit shop, is some way across and you decide to leave it. You have spotted something more important. A cannon. Your instructions are brief, little more than pointing to the war machine. Your men understand. One indicates an alcove, a good point for you to maintain your overview and provide supporting fire, and then they spread out. Some break into a nearby house, silently dispatch the residents and take up sniping positions. A saboteur and a box of small hand-held explosives follow them. The rest take up their individual positions, ready to perform darting knife attacks in and out of cover, or simply to provide covering and defensive fire. You know enough about your men’s tactics to know that the first round of sniper fire and the first bomb will have been timed to go off simultaneously, but it is hard to catch the precise shots when your eyes are unavoidably turned to the cannon’s crew being blown apart or laced with shrapnel. What follows is perfectly choreographed chaos. The near section of the enemy’s line is down in seconds, some of the most skilled close quarters fighters in the kingdom, supported by expert marksmen, cutting down a swathe of distracted enemy soldiers one second, then disappearing back into cover the moment their opposition realises what is going on. Some try, vainly, to dislodge your men from their position, but most realise what is happening. A gratifying number simply break and flee into their city. The rest are met by the front line and die quickly. You don’t let the momentum of the charge falter and send the soldiers off to push on towards the Senate building, a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was renamed Alexisgrad, making it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us, our reports indicate that they are usually open. Democracy.” Bechtholdt, who lead the front line, says. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up behind you. “We have no intelligence General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

The soldier looks uncertainly around (if: $1a is "True")[the balcony](else-if: $1b is "True")[the dirty canteen](else:)[your small, just ransacked office], but then shrugs. Perhaps you have made a mistake, you think, as he jogs away. The Senate chamber, or one of the committee rooms, ideally one of the ones free of suicide victims and unconscious workers, might have been better. But no, you're the Dictator. The government is wherever you are standing, and the Minister of Defence needs to learn that. You sit down (if: $1a is "True")[on the balcony railing], but you do not have to wait long. Minister Lebedeva arrives quickly, chest held high and flanked by a heavily armed escort. None of her aids, you notice, are civilians. “The bastards have killed us.” She says in lieu of a greeting. Before you have a chance to stammer out a response she clarifies. “Your socialists, the communists and anarchists and the rest. They’re about to find out we were a lot bloody nicer than those southern bastards. "But we don’t have time for all that now, however much I’d like to tie you down and make you watch as every single one of my good Republican soldiers dies. But for better or for worse,” and Lebedeva gives you a look that makes it perfectly clear that she believes it is the latter, “you’re the leader of what’s left of our Republic, so I’m giving you a unit. I’ve come up with three choices of where you can hide. I need you to choose one. And then I need you to sign this.” The Minister of Defence shoves a piece of paper into your hands. The document is short, a declaration that, until the end of the Kingdom offensive against the city of Alexisgrad, capital city of the Republic, the Ministry of War will be given complete emergency powers over all matters pertaining to finance, infrastructure, and, of course, the military. You are not sure if she intentionally left out foreign policy, but you decide to not mention it, just in case. “You’re not fit to make these decisions, Dictator. This is a military matter, you can’t compromise, sweet talk and beg your way out of this one. You can’t childishly attempt to intimidate the Kingdom’s generals by ordering them to meet you (if: $1a is "True")[on some balcony.](else-if: $1b is "True")[in a stinking mess hall.](else:)[in your sad little office.] It’s the time for action, Dictator, unified action. You lot couldn’t even stop killing each other, half my job taking down the communists was done for me by the anarchists, and vice versa. If you don’t all want to die, time to let the grown ups work. "We’ll keep you as safe as we can. Now, sign, choose where you want to hide, and let me get back to trying to win this war.” You are alone here. All you see around you is contempt and resentment, blame both for not stopping the revolution earlier and for stopping it too soon, before the Republicans could sweep away all the traces of dissent from the dark city. Contempt and resentment. And guns. The measures are temporary. Just during the assault. That’s all the document //says//. That’s all you are technically signing. You try not to think about the fact that the emotion you might be feeling as your quill lifts from the paper is hope. “Very good.” Lebedeva says, taking the paper from your hand, briefly showing it to a number of her witnesses and handing it off to an aid. “Now choose your hiding spot, Dictator. "If the Pantheon thinks we are still deserving, I will see you again.” The Minister of Defence and her retinue march away, leaving you alone with a young, nervous-looking lieutenant you had not noticed before. “Your squad is downstairs Dictator, ready to depart on your orders. The locations the Minister decided for you are here.” Another piece of paper, this one requiring no signature. Just a choice. Where do you want to, probably, die? [[In a warehouse near the docks, in the worker’s district.]] [[In your house, although the word written on the paper is ‘mansion’, in the trader’s district.]] [[In the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator.]]

The field command centre that the minister has thrown up is not far from the Senate building. It's in a small members only club frequented mostly by retired and off duty officers and the occasional senator who is judged to have the right kind of voting record. The kind of room that could be totally empty with windows thrown wide open and still somehow smell overwhelmingly of cigar smoke. Minister Lebedeva stands in the middle of a circle of officers and aides, none of whom, you notice, are civilians. “The bastards have killed us.” She says in lieu of a greeting. Before you have a chance to stammer out a response she clarifies. “Your socialists, the communists and anarchists and the rest. They’re about to find out we were a lot bloody nicer than those southern bastards. But we don’t have time for all that now, however much I’d like to tie you down and make you watch as every single one of my good Republican soldiers dies. But for better or for worse,” and Lebedeva gives you a look that makes it perfectly clear that she believes it is the latter, “you’re the leader of what’s left of our Republic, so I’m giving you a unit. I’ve come up with three choices of where you can hide. I need you to choose one. And then I need you to sign this.” The Minister of Defence shoves a piece of paper into your hands. The document is short, a declaration that, until the end of the Kingdom offensive against the city of Alexisgrad, capital city of the Republic, the Ministry of War will be given complete emergency powers over all matters pertaining to finance, infrastructure, and, of course, the military. You are not sure if she intentionally left out foreign policy, but you decide to not mention it, just in case. “You’re not fit to make these decisions, Dictator. This is a military matter, you can’t compromise, sweet talk and beg your way out of this one. It’s the time for action, Dictator, unified action. You lot couldn’t even stop killing each other, half my job taking down the communists was done for me by the anarchists, and vice versa. If you don’t all want to die, time to let the grown ups work. "We’ll keep you as safe as we can. Now, sign, choose where you want to hide, and let me get back to trying to win this war.” You are alone here. All you see around you is contempt and resentment, blame both for not stopping the revolution earlier and for stopping it too soon, before the Republicans could sweep away all the traces of dissent from the dark city. Contempt and resentment. And guns. The measures are temporary. Just during the assault. That’s all the document //says//. That’s all you are technically signing. You try not to think about the fact that the emotion you might be feeling as your quill lifts from the paper is hope. “Very good.” Lebedeva says, taking the paper from your hand, briefly showing it to a number of her witnesses and handing it off to an aide. “Now choose your hiding spot, Dictator. "If the Pantheon thinks we are still deserving, I will see you again.” The Minister of Defence waves you towards a side door and goes back to muttering with her retinue, leaving you alone like a child freshly released from the head-master’s office. With no other choice, you slink unnoticed into the room Lebedeva indicated, in which you find a young, nervous looking lieutenant and a pile of coats. “Your squad is downstairs Dictator, ready to depart on your orders. The locations the Minister decided for you are here.” Another piece of paper, this one requiring no signature. Just a choice. Where do you want to, probably, die? [[In a warehouse near the docks, in the worker’s district.]] [[In your house, although the word written on the paper is ‘mansion’, in the trader’s district.]] [[In the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator.]]

(set: $c1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''c1'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"3a")[(set: $3a = "True")(goto: "Attack the senate")] (link:"3b")[(set: $3b = "True")(goto: "Attack the senate")] (link:"3c")[(set: $3c = "True")(goto: "Attack the senate")]]

(set: $c2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''c2'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"3a")[(set: $3a = "True")(goto: "Burn the senate")] (link:"3b")[(set: $3b = "True")(goto: "Burn the senate")] (link:"3c")[(set: $3c = "True")(goto: "Burn the senate")]]

(set: $c3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''c3'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"3a")[(set: $3a = "True")(goto: "Enter the senate")] (link:"3b")[(set: $3b = "True")(goto: "Enter the senate")] (link:"3c")[(set: $3c = "True")(goto: "Enter the senate")]]

(set: $c4 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''c4'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"3a")[(set: $3a = "True")(goto: "Demand surrender")] (link:"3b")[(set: $3b = "True")(goto: "Demand surrender")] (link:"3c")[(set: $3c = "True")(goto: "Demand surrender")]]

(set: $3a = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''3a'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"c1")[(set: $c1 = "True")(goto: "The warehouse")] (link:"c2")[(set: $c2 = "True")(goto: "The warehouse")] (link:"c3")[(set: $c3 = "True")(goto: "The warehouse")] (link:"c4")[(set: $c4 = "True")(goto: "The warehouse")]]

(set: $3c = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''3c'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"c1")[(set: $c1 = "True")(goto: "Your house")] (link:"c2")[(set: $c2 = "True")(goto: "Your house")] (link:"c3")[(set: $c3 = "True")(goto: "Your house")] (link:"c4")[(set: $c4 = "True")(goto: "Your house")]]

(set: $3b = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''3b'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"c1")[(set: $c1 = "True")(goto: "The cathedral")] (link:"c2")[(set: $c2 = "True")(goto: "The cathedral")] (link:"c3")[(set: $c3 = "True")(goto: "The cathedral")] (link:"c4")[(set: $c4 = "True")(goto: "The cathedral")]]

{(set: $Number=0) (if: $a1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b5 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c3 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $2a is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number-1)] }The young man nods, not showing his opinion on your choice either way. “If you’ll follow me Dictator, please.” The young soldier unspeaking leads you downstairs and out of the building to a small, disturbingly small, group of soldiers. You count twenty in all, twenty young, scared looking people are all that stand between you and the destruction of everything you have ever worked to build. They surround you, enough to protect you but not enough to block your view of the streets you walk through. In the centre of the city, the bureaucratic and mercantile heart of the entire Republic, they are empty, more or less. Shuttered blinds and twitching curtains surround you, the tall stone buildings blocking out what little light the stars and moon could give you. But as the streets begin to brighten, the buildings on either side of you falling away to squat factories and makeshift homes, the people begin to make themselves known. First, in the commercial district, it is the looters. You cannot fault their nihilistic logic: if there ever was a situation dire enough to reinstate ‘finder’s keepers’ as the primary system of ownership, then this is it. Your lieutenant gives you a guilty look as he lets them scurry away from you unmolested, although whether he is guilty because he did not have them shot or because he thought about it is a question that you will probably be happier not having the answer to. After the businesses move from selling beads to bread, the crowd becomes thicker and less motivated. Most ignore your group, although those who do react do so in almost every conceivable way. Some shout out their loyalty, some throw stones and bricks, some fall on their knees and beg for you to turn around and march towards the enemy, some fall on their knees and beg you to take them with you. Some call you roaches, some call you heroes. Some cheer your life, some cheer your death. What unites almost all, however, is how few seem to recognise you. Those few who look past the soldier’s uniforms content themselves with labelling you as ‘bourgeois scum’ or as a simple ‘rich coward’. You try to call out that you are their chosen Dictator, the people’s liberator, their embodiment of the social revolution. None hear you, and after a brief word from one of your terrified looking guards, you stop. The crowd is too divided to do anything other than let you pass, your soldiers’ guns more than anything allowing you to push your way through to the chosen spot, close enough to the water that the smell of thousands of starving people is less powerful here than it is in other parts of the district. Four soldiers, only one who looks old enough to have fought in the last war, are already waiting for you, an equal number of important merchants already inside. None seem happy to see you. “I’ll take my chances on the streets!” One merchant declares as you are brought into the huge, empty space. “The King’s forces will come straight to her, and I don’t want to be here when that happens!” “You might want to leave your jewellery here then,” one of her colleagues says, “and that rather nice ermine. You won’t get very far with them.” The woman hesitates before complying, hurriedly ripping all signs of wealth from herself and then slipping out of a side door without a backwards glance. The other three merchants stay where they are, two of them talking in low voices, the third simply staring at the roof of the large wooden space, tears gently running down his cheeks. The nervous lieutenant who guided you here makes polite enquiries as to your comfort. His concern seems genuine, his sadness clear. Whether it is for you or your station, it means a great deal to this young man that he makes the final moments of the life of the Republic’s Dictator as pleasant as possible. (if: $Number <= 3)[Then a runner arrives, a civilian functionary press-ganged into this service by a process you will never know. They tell you that the latest is that the King’s forces have reached the Senate building and (if: $c1 is "True")[have likely already stormed it](else-if: $c2 is "True")[were preparing to burn it](else-if: $c3 is "True")[have sent in a small armed force](else:)[have begun to besiege it]. The news physically chokes you, but with a sad smile the only veteran amongst the soldiers turns to you. “This is a good thing.” she says. “For you, Dictator. We are charged with keeping you alive, and if the King’s forces are still at the Senate, then we have time. I recommend gathering as many civilians around us as possible. The Kingdom is savage and morally and politically backward, but I’ve seen first-hand that they are human. If they’re here, then this is an invasion. They will be conscious that they will have to hold Alexisgrad after they take it. That will be difficult to do if they have just massacred a warehouse full of civilians. "I’m saying build a human shield. Yes, it’s not pretty, but it’s what I’m suggesting. Force them to do something horrific if they want to take your country. "It is a gamble, Dictator, but one I would recommend you take if you want to force them to make terms. But of course, the decision is yours. We are the people, and we will stand with you till the end.” [[Do it, bring in civilians.]] [[I refuse to use the people as a shield, just fortify as best you can.]] [[If we’ve got time, then you need to help me flee.]]](else:)[But even he leaves you eventually, called away to take the reins of command and leaving you alone. Time is thick with inaction. Your mind spins on all the things you have done and should have done, now resting on the socialist revolution, now on your life as a senator, now on you as a young girl deciding to go into politics. What should you have done differently? Should you have done anything differently? Is this the best you could have done? And if so, the best for whom? You see the soldier’s agitation before you yourself hear the gunshots, then the screams. Someone says, their voice toneless, that they are here too soon, they are coming too fast. If the time for preparation existed, it is now gone. Without saying anything, without even looking at you, the soldiers take their positions early, knowing that there is nothing else that can be done but pointlessly die for you. Which leaves you, somehow, even more alone. [[Pray for a miracle.]] [[Tell your soldiers to leave their post, their deaths won’t change anything anyway.]] [[Find a spare rifle and join them.]]]

{(set: $Number=0) (if: $a1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b5 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c3 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $2a is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number-1)] }The young man nods, not showing his opinion on your choice either way. “If you’ll follow me Dictator, please.” The young soldier unspeaking leads you downstairs and out of the building to a small, disturbingly small, group of soldiers. You count twenty in all. Twenty young, scared-looking people are all that stands between you and the destruction of everything you have ever worked to build. They surround you, enough to protect you but not enough to block your view of the streets you walk through. Here in the centre of the city, the bureaucratic and mercantile heart of the Republic, they are empty, more or less. Shuttered blinds and twitching curtains surround you all the way to the cathedral, the tall stone buildings blocking out what little light the stars and moon could give you. It is not until you reach the cathedral square that you see light again, the moon and stars brilliantly framing the awe-inspiring peaks of the Cathedral of Casimir the Liberator, the largest monument to any of the once living gods of the Pantheon anywhere in the world. It is one of the few buildings that was not touched by the chaos of the revolution. Casimir wasn’t a socialist, but he was very much a revolutionary. All the Pantheon, in their ways, were. That’s why everyone can love them, both those now branded conservatives, who stand for what they said; and those revolutionaries, who stand for what they represented. Your choice is a challenge to the Kingdom. The cathedral would be a target regardless of whether it hid you. Casimir, second god of the Republic Pantheon, was called the Liberator for a reason. It was right here, in this very city, that he first raised the Republic flag, then a revolutionary flag, and demanded independence for his people. Independence from the Kingdom. If it began here, maybe it is best that it end here too. Four soldiers, only one who looks old enough to have fought in the last war, stand waiting at the wide doors. They nod stoically when they see you, trying to hide their disappointment. Are there guards waiting at your house also, now thanking the pantheon that you chose here instead of there, helping themselves to your wine stores and disappearing into the night? Better them than the royalists, you suppose. The huge single hall that makes up the vast majority of the building is not empty, but it is far from packed. It is a great sight when it is full. Thousands of faithful all looking to the same giant glass sculpture of their divine liberator, all breathing the same air, all reciting the same prayers. Only a small, specific proportion of the faithful have found their way here now. Aside from the custodians, some praying, some pointlessly fussing over misplaced prayer books or out-of-line chairs, the faithful who have found their way to the cathedral are the servants and functionaries of the city’s heart, the forgotten figures standing behind every great person and making their lives run smoothly. And even of that small class only those with nowhere else to go; only a desperate person would attempt to find salvation amongst the Republic’s non-interventionist gods. The pantheon guides, it does not lead. Still, here you are, as fundamentally desperate and powerless as every other worshipper. Only some of whom, you are surprisingly annoyed to see, seem to recognise you, and those who do leave you to yourself or quietly slip away, knowing what your presence here will ultimately mean. The nervous lieutenant who guided you here makes polite enquiries as to your comfort. His concern seems genuine, his sadness clear. Whether it is for you or your station, it means a great deal to this young man that he makes the final moments of the life of the Republic’s Dictator as pleasant as possible. (if: $Number <= 2)[Then a runner arrives, a civilian functionary press-ganged into this service by a process you will never know. They tell you that the latest is that the King’s forces have reached the Senate building and (if: $c1 is "True")[have likely already stormed it](else-if: $c2 is "True")[were preparing to burn it](else-if: $c3 is "True")[have sent in a small armed force](else:)[have begun to besiege it]. The news physically chokes you, but with a sad smile the only veteran amongst the soldiers turns to you. “This is a good thing.” she says. “For you, Dictator. We are charged with keeping you alive, and if the King’s forces are still at the Senate, then we have time. I recommend gathering as many civilians around us as possible. The Kingdom is savage and morally and politically backward, but I’ve seen first-hand that they are human. If they’re here, then this is an invasion. They will be conscious that they will have to hold Alexisgrad after they take it. That will be difficult to do if they have just massacred a cathedral full of civilians. "I’m saying build a human shield. Yes, it’s not pretty, but it’s what I’m suggesting. Force them to do something horrific if they want to take your country. "It is a gamble, Dictator, but one I would recommend you take if you want to force them to make terms. But of course, the decision is yours. We are the people, and we will stand with you till the end.” [[Do it, bring in civilians.]] [[I refuse to use the people as a shield, just fortify as best you can.]] [[If we’ve got time, then you need to help me flee.]]](else:)[But even he leaves you eventually, called away to take the reins of command and leaving you alone. Time is thick with inaction. Your mind spins on all the things you have done and should have done, now resting on the socialist revolution, now on your life as a senator, now on you as a young girl deciding to go into politics. What should you have done differently? Should you have done anything differently? Is this the best you could have done? And if so, the best for whom? You see the soldier’s agitation before you yourself hear the horses, the trumpets playing the King’s anthem. Someone says, their voice toneless, that they are here too soon, they are coming too fast. If the time for preparation existed, it is now gone. Without saying anything, without even looking at you, the soldiers take their positions early, knowing that there is nothing else that can be done but pointlessly die for you. Which leaves you, somehow, even more alone. [[Pray for a miracle.]] [[Tell your soldiers to leave their post, their deaths won’t change anything anyway.]] [[Find a spare rifle and join them.]]]

{(set: $Number=0) (if: $a1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $b5 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c3 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c1 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $2a is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number+1)] (if: $c2 is "True")[(set: $Number=$Number-1)] }The young man nods, not showing his opinion on your choice either way. “If you’ll follow me Dictator, please.” The young soldier unspeaking leads you downstairs and out of the building to a small, disturbingly small, group of soldiers. You count twenty in all, twenty young, scared looking people are all that stands between you and the destruction of everything you have ever worked to build. They surround you, enough to protect you but not enough to block your view of the streets you walk through. Here in the centre of the city, the bureaucratic and mercantile heart of the Republic, they are empty, more or less. Shuttered blinds and twitching curtains surround you all the way, the tall stone buildings blocking out what little light the stars and moon could give you. It is not until you reach the residential district that you call home that you see proper light again, or as close to proper light as you have seen in the last several weeks. Here the streets are wide, the buildings spaced by modest gardens. There are no parks in the city, even here, but these gardens are just about large enough to give the residents enough of a taste of the natural to tide them over till they next return to their country estates. You hardly remember your family’s country house. You were too young to be aware of, never mind involved in, the discussion of whether it would be better to sell the property in the city and live full time in the country, or sell the country property and live in the city. Your fathers had fought, the tensions never quite disappearing, but the agreement was eventually made: you could stay in the city if your father took a holy oath to abandon gambling. He did, and found the bottle instead. History now. He had died first, when you were still a child, your other father following him many years later, a fair time after you had already become a senator. Now you live in the house by yourself. Well, yourself and one live-in servant, with two day servants, whatever that means now. Slava, your butler, is not there when you arrive. Where he is you couldn’t guess. You hope it’s somewhere safe. But it means you’re alone. True, four soldiers, only one of whom looked old enough to have fought in the last war, stood waiting by your door, but they did not look pleased to see you, knowing what your presence must mean, and they quickly moved off to secure the perimeter. Only the nervous lieutenant who guided you here makes polite enquiries as to your comfort. His concern seems genuine, his sadness clear. Whether it is for you or your station, it means a great deal to this young man that he makes the final moments of the life of the Republic’s Dictator as pleasant as possible. (if: $Number <= 2)[Then a runner arrives, a civilian functionary press ganged into this service by a process you will never know. They tell you that the latest is that the King’s forces have reached the Senate building and (if: $c1 is "True")[have likely already stormed it](else-if: $c2 is "True")[were preparing to burn it](else-if: $c3 is "True")[have sent in a small armed force](else:)[have began to siege it]. The news physically chokes you, but with a sad smile the only veteran amongst the soldiers turns to you. “This is a good thing.” she says. “For you, Dictator. We are charged with keeping you alive, and if the King’s forces are still at the Senate, then we have a little time to prepare for a siege. We have plans of this house, a precaution the war ministry took when you became Dictator, I apologise if this is the first you’re hearing about this, but if you do not mind us using some of your furniture, we have contingencies for barricading in here. But we need you to give the order. You are the supreme Dictator, we are the people, and we will stand with you till the end.” What the woman does not say, but which her eyes show perfectly clearly, is that you will die. She is promising you not weeks, not days, not even hours, but minutes. Just a handful of minutes more in the house you grew up in, watching it become riddled with bullets and stained with blood. But what other choice do you have? (link: "Do it, fortify as best you can.")[(goto: "I refuse to use the people as a shield, just fortify as best you can.")] [[If we’ve got time, then you need to help me flee.]]](else:)[But even he leaves you eventually, called away to take the reins of command and leaving you alone. Time is thick with inaction. Your mind spins on all the things you have done and should have done, now resting on the socialist revolution, now on your life as a senator, now on you as a young girl deciding to go into politics. What should you have done differently? Should you have done anything differently? Is this the best you could have done? And if so, the best for whom? You see the soldier’s agitation before you yourself hear the horses, the trumpets playing the King’s anthem. Someone says, their voice toneless, that they are here too soon, they are coming too fast. If the time for preparation existed, it is now gone. Without saying anything, without even looking at you, the soldiers take their positions early, knowing that there is nothing else that can be done but pointlessly die for you. Which leaves you, somehow, even more alone. [[Pray for a miracle.]] [[Tell your soldiers to leave their post, their deaths won’t change anything anyway.]] [[Find a spare rifle and join them.]]]

(set: $4d = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4d'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Bring in civilians")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Bring in civilians")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Bring in civilians")]]

(set: $4e = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4e'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Fortify")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Fortify")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Fortify")]]

(set: $4f = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4f'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Flee")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Flee")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Flee")]]

(set: $4b = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4b'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Pray")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Pray")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Pray")]]

(set: $4a = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4a'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Make soldiers leave")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Make soldiers leave")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Make soldiers leave")]]

(set: $4c = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4c'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d1")[(set: $d1 = "True")(goto: "Pick up a rifle")] (link:"d2")[(set: $d2 = "True")(goto: "Pick up a rifle")] (link:"d3")[(set: $d3 = "True")(goto: "Pick up a rifle")]]

“A fine decision General! I shall prepare the flag bearers.” Colonel Bechtholdt does not wait for you to sanction his action before riding away. Still, he says more than Major Pruefer, who simply nods before he too rides away to prepare his men. It takes some time to organise. What you plan must be both a raid and a military parade at once, a celebration and display of the Kingdom’s strength and majesty and also an effective military manoeuvre. Eventually a workable balance is found, lines and divisions established. You will ride with your two highest ranking officers, Bechtholdt and Pruefer, just behind the vanguard and just ahead of the standard bearers, two holding high the King’s flag, the other the coat of the First Brigade. With the sounding of horns the battering ram is brought out and the great doors of the Senate are blown aside. There is a pause, a moment in which everyone wonders why no-one else checked if the doors were locked, before the trumpets sound again and the vanguard moves in. The entrance hall of the Senate is large, but it takes seconds before it is full of your royalists, their excitement and patriotism quickly giving way to boredom. Colonel Bechtholdt’s strong voice sounds out, explaining in very clear terms the punishment for anyone found looting, but he seems to be pre-empting an energy that is very much not yet present. Only the vanguard, the front line and the only people whose lives would actually be at risk if the enemy were to suddenly appear, seem to be taking this moment seriously. They gesture you forward - your horses unsure of their footing on the brightly coloured mosaic floor - and lead you to the far end of the hall, where they burst open the door to the central chamber and hustle through. Only a moment later and their lieutenant appears, gesturing that you may dismount and follow him in. By day the Senate hall is a rainbow, the regularly changing stained glass window - updated each time the Republic deifies another one of its citizens - sending points of colour slowly gliding down the senators’ faces. By night, the room is just a room, round and high with steeply tiered seating and only a small area for standing in the middle. It's all, you remember hearing, modelled on the design of an anatomy lecture theatre. The room is not empty. Almost opposite you a small group of individuals attempt to hide or take cover behind chairs, while just behind two small groups of individuals are tied together, staring at you and at each other with varying degrees of fear, hatred and disgust. Three bodies lie slumped over chairs, two with bullet wounds still oozing blood, another with an equally fresh knife wound. One of the shot ones might still be alive, but no-one is giving her the medical attention she would need to stay that way for long. You ignore her and turn your attention to the focal point of the room: a single unarmed, well-dressed old man standing stooped and unsure in the centre of the room. “You are the Kingdom’s forces?” he asks as you sweep into the room. There is a moment of silence, many of your men glancing down to check that they are indeed wearing their insignias, before you politely clarify that yes, you are the leader of the Kingdom’s forces here. “Well,” the man says, clearly expecting this answer but still not prepared for it, “we can’t give you the Republic. Legally. That would be the Dictator’s decision, we could only ratify it. And the Dictator isn’t here.” Confused, you ask for clarification. You are no expert on Republic political procedure, but ‘Dictator’ is not a term you are familiar with. The man explains, in more detail than you had needed but quickly enough, that the Republic is in the process of rewriting its constitution and that, in the meantime, certain and significant executive and legislative powers have been given to a single individual, the Dictator. Who isn’t here. You ask where she is. The old man shrugs. Not here. She was in committee sessions, the man thinks, but he does not imagine she is in one now. “She’s in (if: $3a is "True")[one of the warehouses in the worker’s district!](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator!](else:)[her mansion in the manor district!]” one of the tied up men says, before being silenced by a rifle butt to the jaw. There is a moment of tension, until the old man shrugs. “Or so we have heard. It is just a rumour, everything has happened oh so fast, we do not really know what is going on. "But everything else we said was true. The Senate does not have the power to issue a military surrender. You have to find the Dictator. If you can persuade her to relinquish her power back to us, we’ll sign your surrender. She might be too proud to do it herself.” There are plenty of things you could do or say, but none of them worth it, so you leave. If this ‘Dictator’ is indeed barricaded within (if: $3a is "True")[a warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[a cathedral](else:)[a mansion], then she is still easily within your grasp and it will be much easier to take the Republic with this shambolic remnants of a Senate than it would be without it. The question that you have to ask yourself, as you organise your forces back out of the cramped entrance hall, is who should lead the assault? [[Colonel Bechtholdt.]] [[Major Pruefer.]] [[Yourself.]]

Colonel Bechtholdt raises an eyebrow. “I did not think you had it in you General. I am not sure his royal highness would //approve//, but I’m sure he will enjoy the tale.” Major Pruefer simply stares at you, but looks away quickly when you meet his gaze. The order is disseminated and your troops surround the sprawling Senate building in a loose cordon. Then the fire is lit, the surfeit powder and oil you had been expecting to use in besieging this building brought forward and piled high. One of your more traditional snipers lights the pile with a flaming arrow. The heat is instant, a wall pushing against your instincts, your animal brain demanding that you flee. Of course you do not. But it does not take long before those inside do, their fear much more rational. All those who you see are civilians. Some few are armed, preferring to meet their deaths sending a bullet into a royalist soldier before being gunned down themselves, but most are not. Most of them are taken prisoner. Some are not. Some of those who die in the flames of the building scream loudly enough to hear. Some, you guess, do not. The information starts to reach you quickly. The Senate was not in session, but maybe there were enough inside to meet quorum. And then: that wouldn’t matter, surely only the Dictator has the power to surrender? Who is this Dictator, is the Republic not a democracy? Yes yes of course, but after the revolution (what revolution?), the socialist revolution, just finished a couple of weeks ago, after that the constitution was being rewritten, so powers were given to an individual. No, not a king, a Dictator. Where is he? She. Where is she? Not here. Where? Everything until that last question is easy. Then all the information dries up. You are sure many do not know. But some must, and as ever, it is impossible to know which ones. You have more prisoners than interrogators, but time is short, so you delegate to those soldiers who do not seem overly keen for the duty. You sanction brutality. If the key to the Republic now lies in one person’s hands, as it would in any civilised country, all now relies on finding her. If she is still in the city then she is yours, but every second that passes gives her the opportunity to run. And so no time can be wasted. There are enough gunshots and screams that it is only after a runner arrives to tell you that the cordon has been struck from the outside that you realise you had actually heard the attack. A small force, hitting and running, scattering back into the city. You have spread your forces thin across an open area. You should be glad that the enemy had not sent a larger force. Nearly half of the Senate is burning now, distant popping, perhaps imagined, telling you that the stained glass window of the central dome has burst. You order your troops consolidated, take the prisoners back into the security of Liberty Way and continue the interrogation, but you get the word out too late. You already have your answer. “A former senator begged for clemency”, a flustered soldier with blood stained hands tells you, “I agreed, apologies sir, and he said that the Dictator is in (if: $3a is "True")[one of the warehouses in the worker’s district](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator](else:)[her mansion in the manor district]. He’s offered to give us directions. He also said that he could guarantee enough votes to get a surrender backed by the Senate, if the Dictator can be...persuaded. Or is that enough sir, should I shoot him?” No, you answer, although his final fate can be decided later. For now you need to move as quickly as possible. The majority of the prisoners are let go to hobble and scuttle away as you prepare to move. Some, of course, are not. Soon you are leading the column again, the enemy forces who had harassed your cordon lost somewhere within the city. A problem for later. What you must decide now is, who will lead the assault on the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion]? [[Colonel Bechtholdt.]] [[Major Pruefer.]] [[Yourself.]]

“Good, a brave and civilised thing to do general.” Major Pruefer looks at you, clearly proud to serve under you. Colonel Bechtholdt is clearly less enthralled. “Reckless sir. We shall give you half an hour, and then we will storm the building. Yes?” Technically, that is a question, but it would be tactically unwise, in more ways than one, to disagree, so you allow the Colonel to make his own order while you select your troops. The work is quick, you know your forces well, and you breach the building through a side entrance, of which there are irresponsibly many. While neither you nor your escort ever let your guard down, it is clear quickly that you face no resistance. You see exactly two people, both civilians, in your march through the building: one is hugging his knees and does not seem to notice you as you push your way past him, while the other hides badly under a table, which you all find easiest to simply pretend to not notice. As for guards, there are none, which could be bad or could be good. There are too many possible explanations for it to be worthwhile doing any more than think of them. One is that they are guarding the main chamber, but you disprove that when you arrive there, pushing aside one of the many dark wood doors and walking unimpeded into the large hall beneath the central dome of the building. By day the room is a rainbow, the regularly changing stained glass window, updated each time the Republic deifies another one of its citizens, sending points of colour slowly gliding down the senators’ faces. By night, the room is just a room, round and high with steeply tiered seating and only a small area for standing in the middle, all modelled on the design of an anatomy lecture theatre. The room is not empty. Almost opposite you a small group of individuals attempts to hide or take cover behind chairs, while just behind two small groups of individuals are tied together, staring at you and at each other with varying degrees of fear, hatred and disgust. Three bodies lie slumped over chairs, two with bullet wounds still oozing blood, another with an equally fresh knife wound. One of the shot ones might still be alive, but no-one is giving her the medical attention she would need to stay that way for long, so you ignore her and turn your attention to the focal point of the room: a single unarmed, well dressed old man standing stooped and unsure in the centre of the room. “You are the Kingdom’s forces?” he asks. There is a moment of silence, many of your men glancing down to check that they are indeed wearing their insignias, before you politely clarify that yes, you are the leader of the Kingdom’s forces here. “Well,” the man says, clearly expecting this answer but still not prepared for it, “we can’t give you the Republic. Legally. That would be the Dictator’s decision, we could only ratify it. And the Dictator isn’t here.” Confused, you ask for clarification. You are no expert on Republic political procedure, but ‘Dictator’ is not a term you are familiar with. The man explains, in more detail than you had needed but quickly enough, that the Republic is in the process of rewriting its constitution and that, in the meantime, certain and significant executive, and legislative, powers have been given to a single individual, the Dictator. Who isn’t here. You ask where she is. The old man shrugs. Not here. She was in committee sessions, the man thinks, but he does not imagine she is in one now. “She’s in (if: $3a is "True")[one of the warehouses in the worker’s district!](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator!](else:)[her mansion in the manor district!]” one of the tied up men says, before being silenced by a rifle butt to the jaw. There is a moment of tension, until the old man shrugs. “Or so we have heard. It is just a rumour, everything has happened oh so fast, we do not really know what is going on. But everything else we said was true. The Senate does not have the power to issue a military surrender. You have to find the Dictator. If you can persuade her to relinquish her power back to us, we’ll sign your surrender. She might be too proud to do it herself.” There are plenty of things you could do or say, but none of them is worth the effort, so you leave. If this ‘Dictator’ is indeed barricaded within (if: $3a is "True")[a factory](else-if: $3b is "True")[a cathedral](else:)[a mansion], then she is still easily within your grasp and it will be much easier to take the Republic with this shambolic remnants of a Senate than it would be without it. The question that you have to ask yourself, as you march double time back to your waiting army, is who should lead the assault? [[Colonel Bechtholdt.]] [[Major Pruefer.]] [[Yourself.]]

Colonel Bechtholdt lets out a long sigh, tuts, and then rides away. “The noble choice General.” Major Pruefer reassures you. “The king would approve. You must capture hearts, not just cease their beating. And it’s just the right thing to do.” You nod and then kindly remind Major Pruefer of his responsibilities. He thanks you again and rides off, and soon the Senate is surrounded by a loose cordon. A lifetime of battlefield command has trained your voice, and you shout out your demand for the unconditional surrender of the Republic to the Kingdom and the King, granting all peoples of the Republic the rights of subjects. Then there is silence, your entire army intrigued and awed by the history they might be about to witness. It is so quiet that you can hear the muffled whisper of shots, exactly two - most likely from a pistol - from inside the building. A quick check confirms that no, it was none of your men. A Senate issue, not yet your concern. A few more minutes pass, and then you see movement. You’re not the only one, many of the men around you, Colonel Bechtholdt included, instinctively raise their guns to point up at the balcony, but what appears is not a final stand but instead a single, unarmed, well dressed old man. The stooped figure looks behind him and says a few words, clearly communicating with someone just out of view, before turning back to you and asking, just loud enough, but barely: “You are the Kingdom’s forces?” There is a moment of silence, many of your men glancing across at your flags and down at their uniforms, before you politely clarify that yes, you are the leader of the Kingdom’s forces here. “Well,” the man says, clearly expecting this answer but still not prepared for it, “we can’t give you the Republic. Legally. That would be the Dictator’s decision, we could only ratify it. And the Dictator isn’t here.” Confused, you ask for clarification. You are no expert on Republic political procedure, but ‘Dictator’ is not a term you are familiar with. The man explains, in more detail than you had needed but quickly enough, all things considered, that the Republic is in the process of rewriting its constitution and that, in the meantime, certain and significant executive, and legislative, powers have been given to a single individual, the Dictator. Who isn’t here. You ask where she is. The old man shrugs. Not here. She was in committee sessions, the man thinks, but he does not imagine she is in one now. “She’s in (if: $3a is "True")[one of the warehouses in the worker’s district!](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator!](else:)[her mansion in the manor district!]” someone out of view says, before the sound of a rifle butt breaking someone’s nose and then silence. There is a moment of tension, until the old man shrugs. “Or so we have heard. It is just a rumour, everything has happened oh so fast, we do not really know what is going on. But everything else we said was true. The Senate does not have the power to issue a military surrender. You have to find the Dictator. If you can persuade her to relinquish her power back to us, we’ll sign your surrender. She might be too proud to do it herself.” If this ‘Dictator’ is indeed barricaded within (if: $3a is "True")[a warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[a cathedral](else:)[a mansion], then she is still easily within your grasp and it will be much easier to take the Republic with this remnant of a Senate than it would be without it. The question that you have to ask yourself, as you thank the man and order him and the rest of his Senate to stay where they are, is who should lead the assault? [[Colonel Bechtholdt.]] [[Major Pruefer.]] [[Yourself.]]

(set: $d2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''d2'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"4a")[(set: $4a = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")] (link:"4b")[(set: $4b = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")] (link:"4c")[(set: $4c = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")] (link:"4d")[(set: $4d = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")] (link:"4e")[(set: $4e = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")] (link:"4f")[(set: $4f = "True")(goto: "Let Bechtholdt lead")]]

(set: $d3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''d3'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"4a")[(set: $4a = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")] (link:"4b")[(set: $4b = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")] (link:"4c")[(set: $4c = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")] (link:"4d")[(set: $4d = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")] (link:"4e")[(set: $4e = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")] (link:"4f")[(set: $4f = "True")(goto: "Let Pruefer lead")]]

(set: $d1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''d1'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"4a")[(set: $4a = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")] (link:"4b")[(set: $4b = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")] (link:"4c")[(set: $4c = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")] (link:"4d")[(set: $4d = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")] (link:"4e")[(set: $4e = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")] (link:"4f")[(set: $4f = "True")(goto: "Lead the attack")]]

The young lieutenant begins to speak first, but the woman, the only person old enough to be a veteran, silences him with a raised hand. “The Dictator gave us an order. It’s our responsibility to obey.” The young man vacillates for a moment, but then, his head hung and eyes skilfully avoiding yours, he begins to organise the retreat, which means little more than pointing towards the door and walking out of it. The woman gives you a nod, her action one of thanks and approval, her expression one of pity and her lingering gaze an unspoken acknowledgement that, by the end of the day, this woman may be one of the last living Republicans to have seen you alive. She does not wish you luck. And then you are alone(if: $1b is "True")[, the guards you picked up at the Senate eagerly slinking away with the soldiers]. (if: $3a is "True")[The merchants at the other end of the room push themselves even further away from you before attempting to hide themselves within their own clothes.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The worshippers move away from you, some maybe intentionally, the others instinctively.](else:)[The halls of your home are dead with quiet.] There is nothing to do but wait, and you do not have to do that for long. The royalist brutes did not even check whether the door was locked before they rammed it, sending it pirouetting on a corner before slamming to the ground, its hinges flying dangerously through the air. The maroon-uniformed soldiers pour in, every other gun pointed at you. You feel your stomach spasm, but you manage to hold your last meal down as you meet the eyes of tens of men, each of them one small movement of one finger away from ending your life. (if: $d1 is "True")[A giant of a man, broad shouldered and standing impeccably straight, glides into the room. Even if you did not recognise the epaulettes of a general, you would have known that this man was in charge from the way that his men move around him without even having to look at him. He’s the absolutely controlled centre of the storm. You tell him who you are before he asks and then, without thinking, you place your wrists together and raise them towards him. Of all of the aspects of your personality to have taken control at this moment, you are glad that it was your dignity.](else-if: $d2 is "True")[A tall man, his medals and waxed moustache both shining even in this poor light, slides into the room. His eyes do not settle on you, his momentary gaze telling you instantly that you are dismissed. He organises quickly, his men moving in mechanical bursts to fill the entire building. Only once he has failed to find what he was looking for does his attention come back to you(if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ and the other unarmed civilians in the room]. A moment later you realise that you spoke, the simple assertion that you are the Dictator an after-image on your mind. The man looks you up and down, and confers with a subordinate before turning back and ordering his men to help escort you. Then you are back out into the cold of the night, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the tall man, who seems like a reed next to the titan now before you, and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.](else:)[A short man, stocky but not yet fat, any possible double chin hidden behind a prodigious beard, barrels into the room. He gives a few orders before he turns to you, lowering his gun and indicating you with a finger instead of a barrel. “Excuse me, but we are here to arrest the Dictator. It would be good of you to help us find her.” You pause for a second, the possibility of escape battering at your chest, but then you remember (if: $3a is "True")[the merchants](else-if: $3b is "True")[the worshippers](else:)[the large portrait of you upstairs, the plaque of which you giddily updated with your rank just a few days ago]. And so you identify yourself, quickly and simply. “Okay Dictator. We’re going to take you to the general now. He’s a good man, he will decide the right thing to do with you.” The man’s tone implies a choice, but his soldiers back his words up with the dark pits of rifle barrels. The man, a Major if you recognise his epaulettes, does not seem to notice as he turns and leads you back out into the cold night air, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the bearded man and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.] [[Accept your fate.]]

(if: $3a is "True")[You crouch down behind some crates in the centre of the room. You know enough of war to avoid the walls. You will be safest in the middle of the space, amongst the cover of the now irrelevant output of some unknown factory, while you wait for it to be over.](else-if: $3b is "True")[You crouch down where it makes the most sense to crouch and pray, finding a spot amongst the other worshippers at the feet of the giant glass statue of Casimir that reaches all the way to the roof, high, high above you. The statue is a miracle itself, one of the reasons Dominike the Builder, who had known Casimir in life and had built this truly giant statue from first-hand memory of his likeness, was deified herself. During the day the light of the sun would be magnified through it, illuminating everything inside the great cathedral, its eyes, somehow built to always shine brightest, often painful to look at because of their radiance. No one will ever see that again. Maybe, after tonight, no-one will ever see this wonder at all again, in darkness or in light.](else:)[You enter your father’s study. Still your father’s after all these years. It’s bigger than the one you have taken upstairs, and while you tell yourself that the privacy of yours is an advantage, the view of the street from this downstairs room, looking out at your small garden, is something that you now wish you had lived with every day. But it is too late for that, too late to wonder whether leaving this room just exactly how it was when he died was worth it now that the King’s men are about to come and burn it all down. You clench your fists hard, letting your nails bite into your skin. Neither the royalists nor the gods will see you cry now. And so you kneel on the carpet, facing your father’s large mahogany desk as if it were a shrine.] You pray. To Casimir, but also to Alexis, to Dominike, to Yulia, even to Jan, whom you had the honour to meet, and with whom you were privately disappointed. You pray for your people, you pray for your ideals, and you pray for yourself. Save it all, let it live on, oh please, let it live on through me! But they do nothing as the sounds of hundreds of men approaching slowly drips into your consciousness, and then the sounds of men and women killing and being killed. You do not count the screams, you do not know enough about any aspect of war to know what the sound of each shot could mean. The shouts of ‘for the Republic!’ and ‘for liberty!’, even the new motto of ‘liberty, fraternity and equality!’, die down, choked out by gunfire, and soon you realise it is time for you to rise. You say one final prayer, in the name of the Republic, for the Republic, and then you stand(if: $3c is "True")[ and walk back into the hallway]. Maroon uniformed soldiers are everywhere, and now the last of your guards lie dead and dying, every other gun and sabre and bayonet turns to you. You feel your stomach spasm, but you manage to hold your last meal down as you meet the eyes of tens of men, most of them one small movement of one finger away from ending your life. (if: $d1 is "True")[A giant of a man, broad shouldered and standing impeccably straight, glides through the room. Even if you did not recognise the epaulettes of a general, you would have known that this man was in charge from the way that his men move around him without even having to look at him. He’s the absolutely controlled centre of the storm. You tell him who you are before he asks and then, without thinking, you place your wrists together and raise them towards him. Of all the aspects of your personality to have taken control at this moment, you are glad that it was your dignity.](else-if: $d2 is "True")[A tall man, his medals and waxed moustache both shining even in this poor light, marches around the room. His eyes do not settle on you, his momentary gaze telling you instantly that you are dismissed. He organises quickly, his men moving in mechanical bursts to fill the entire building. Only once he has failed to find what he was looking for does his attention come back to you(if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ and the other unarmed civilians in the room]. A moment later you realise that you spoke, the simple assertion that you are the Dictator an after-image on your mind. The man looks you up and down, and confers with a subordinate before turning back and ordering his men to help escort you. Then you are back out into the cold of the night, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the tall man, who seems like a reed next to the titan now before you, and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.](else:)[A short man, stocky but not yet fat, any possible double chin hidden behind a prodigious beard, barrels through the room. He gives a few orders before he turns to you, lowering his gun and indicating you with a finger instead of a barrel. “Excuse me, but we are here to arrest the Dictator. It would be good of you to help us find her.” You pause for a second, the possibility of escape battering at your chest, but then you remember (if: $3a is "True")[the merchants](else-if: $3b is "True")[the worshippers](else:)[the large portrait of you upstairs, the plaque of which you giddily updated with your rank just a few days ago]. And so you identify yourself, quickly and simply. “Okay Dictator. We’re going to take you to the general now. He’s a good man, he will decide the right thing to do with you.” The man’s tone implies a choice, but his soldiers back his words up with the dark pits of rifle barrels. The man, a Major if you recognise his epaulettes, does not seem to notice as he turns and leads you back out into the cold night air, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the bearded man and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.] [[Accept your fate.]]

The young lieutenant tries to refuse you when you ask for a weapon, but the woman, the only person old enough to be a veteran, interrupts. “The Dictator has given you an order, lieutenant, and we have the spare guns with which to fulfil her request. Go get her one.” “But it’s dangerous! If she’s fighting we won’t be able to cover her, it’s better-” “The Dictator wants to fight. Let her.” The two look at each other and the lieutenant breaks first, letting out a long sigh before moving off. The woman gives you a nod, her respect not covering her pity. She does not interfere when the lieutenant comes back to move you to a covered position in sight of the door. He explains some of their tactics, that they will be moving around, shouting, firing as much shot as possible. It’s a bluff, he says, an attempt to make the enemy overestimate numbers. Why they are doing this, he does not say. From the look on the faces of the other soldiers, you guess it is simply better to have some strategy than no strategy at all. You do not question it. Not that you would have had time to. One of the soldiers on lookout(if: $1b is "True")[, one of the guards you picked up at the Senate,] calls out and your soldiers scramble away, covering as many sightlines out of the building as they can. Moments later you hear it, the sound of hundreds of people approaching, the steady earth-shaking ‘thwap thwap’ of an army on the march. It gets louder and louder and with each second the strangely impersonal image of a cannon ball ripping through the wall and liquefying your organs takes up more and more of your consciousness. And then it stops. You almost wet yourself in the silence. The gun is slippery with sweat and, already unfamiliar with how to hold it, you almost drop it. Then the shouting starts, some noble cries of ‘for the Republic!’ and ‘for liberty!’, even the new motto of ‘liberty, fraternity, and equality!’, mixed in with mindless war screams and base swearing. Gunshot starts just a moment later, some pre-emptive pops from your guards before the deafening roar of the royalist rounds slam into the side of the building. You hear your people dying, although how many you cannot tell. It feels like a lifetime in a second, and then the door creaks and groans, a pause, and then smashes inwards, pirouetting on a corner before slamming to the ground, its hinges flying dangerously through the air. You are strangely aware of the reverberating thud of the ram being dropped, the vibrations still echoing through your body as you push yourself up, unthinking and unaware as you roughly aim and pull your trigger, not conscious of whether you even hit. Your eyes are barely focussed, never still, flicking first to the young lieutenant’s head as it seems to sprout a spray of mud behind it, and then swimming across distended time to watch the woman who helped you get your gun be impaled. (if: $d1 or $d3 is "True")[When you started screaming is something you will never know, whether it started as a defiant roar of courage and then became a piercing shriek of pain, or whether you were silent until the tragedy became your own, is and forever will be beyond you. And irrelevant. The pain in your stomach is less than you had thought it would be, although it is difficult to tell because all you can really feel is shock and warm liquid running through your fingers. Then something cuts through, a (if: $d1 is "True")[giant of a man, broad shouldered and standing impeccably straight is orchestrating the world and giving you your cue. “Bring us the Dictator!”](else-if: $d3 is "True")[roundish man with a bushel of a beard is scrambling for control, pointing around the room with his finger. “Where is the Dictator?”] You find you have raised your hand, blood glistening as it rolls gently down your wrist and into your sleeve, briefly worrying you, a worry only appeased when you remember that the shirt is already ruined from the blood pumping out from your stomach. Your words have taken over, a simple declaration of who you are. Then panic and pain as you reach out towards the man, your wrists together in surrender. (if: $d3 is "True")[The bearded man nods, his face twisted into pity and worry beneath his beard, orders someone to help you to your feet. Your vision swims, darkness eating away at your consciousness, and you are aware for a moment only of walking, voices telling you things you could never possibly remember. Only when the momentum stops, your limbs no longer pushing you forward, does your awareness return and you find yourself standing in front of a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the bearded man and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Of all the aspects of your personality to have taken control at this moment, you are glad that it was your dignity.]](else:)[Her death is driven from you by a ‘thunk’ at your feet and a whistling by your left ear. A tall man, his medals and moustache both glinting even in this poor light, is pointing a pistol directly between your eyes. “Drop the gun. You’ll miss holding it like that, so might as well drop it.” You do not know whether he is right, but instinct makes you follow his advice regardless. “Good. Now tell me where the Dictator is.” You stammer for a second while some of his soldiers surround you, and then inform him that he has found her. He lets out a little laugh and stalks away. You do not feel the need to beg him to believe you. He will find out soon enough, and yes, here he is just moments later, gesturing not to you but to the guards surrounding you, pulling you out into the street. You are back out in the cold of the night, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the tall man, who seems like a reed next to the titan now before you, and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.] [[Accept your fate.]]

The lieutenant retches and the veteran turns on him. “We have an order lieutenant! It’s your job to carry it out.” “But-” “Sir, we have an order, from the Dictator herself.” The lieutenant looks at you, his wet eyes unfocussed and quivering within his ghostly white face. But he nods and, voice lifeless, gives the order. It is not questioned. (if: $3a is "True")[The merchants at the back of the room are the first to be taken, marched ahead of the barrel of a gun to stand by your side. One spits at you, but apologises after the butt of a rifle breaks his nose. A minute later you hear the sound of someone being sick, and you are almost sure that it is the woman who delivered the blow. Then come the rest, almost a hundred men and women, all of them workers. It is clear instantly that they do not know what is going on, and a look from the veteran quickly tells the merchants to keep their mouths shut. A part of you rises, the need to shout out, to tell them to run, that it’s a trap and they don’t even have the dignity of being the target, that they are nothing but bait. You swallow the urge back down.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The faithful are rounded up quickly. Some seem so lost in their divine despair that they could not understand what is going on, but most seem to know and simply accept. They turned to Casimir for guidance, and he delivered it to them. They will serve the Republic in the only way they can now. The clerks and businessmen whom your soldiers found in the surrounding area are less sanguine. You hear one mumble ‘we didn’t beat the socialists just to be killed by the royalists’, but most simply file in with their eyes downcast, their fear and rage making it to their faces and no further. From the looks your soldiers pass each other, you understand that those who were willing to put up a fight have already been made examples of.] And then you wait. The lieutenant tells you that he will stand with you till the last and that the veteran, whose name he tells you only for it to immediately fly out of your head, will stand out front to give the King’s men your ultimatum. Your life, and the lives of the one hundred or so Republic citizens around you, relies on the morality of some unknown King’s army commander. True, they are people, just like your Republicans. There is no reason to think that the would do anything that your soldiers would not do. But you’ve seen the classified documents from the last war. You know what your own troops are capable of. And yet here you are, staking all these lives on a gamble that your enemy will be better than you. The sounds of a hundred (if: $3a is "True")[confused](else-if: $3b is "True")[terrified] people means that the first thing that alerts you to the King’s army’s presence is their trumpets. The room falls quiet and only then do you hear the sounds of many more hundreds outside, the sounds of a sea of armed men. Your armour of flesh, of loves and experiences and potentials, is nothing. A shield made of paper with a picture of a puppy drawn on it. Someone in your crush of people begins to scream. (if: $3a is "True")[The realisation has struck. ]One of the soldiers standing by your side, on top of a box to better monitor the crowd, hisses out a warning and brandishes their gun. The screaming does not stop, and others begin to wail, but no-one attempts to run. Everyone feels the hope buried in the waiting. (if: $d1 is "True")[[[Wait]]](else-if: $d2 is "True")[There is a shot. Eyes fly in every direction, looking to see who went down, who tried to run but didn’t make it. “No-one here’s dead, no-one here’s dead!” you hear someone scream. One of your soldiers has begun to cry, another falls to his knees and begins to pray, for his life and for forgiveness. You feel it creeping up your spine and enclosing your mind. Fear, grief, panic. No-one here is dead. The shot came from outside. A moment later and there is the crash as a ram bursts against the door. It clatters several feet across the floor while one of its hinges flies through the air to collide with someone’s skull. There are too many screams for you to know which one was his. The firing has already started. (if: $3a is "True")[A group of workers, people who have stared the monstrosities of the industrial age in the eye, who have spent years of their lives pushing their bodies and minds beyond the limits of what any society should accept, die in the first seconds. Someone at the back cries ‘Fuck this, follow me!’ and makes it the first few steps towards the back exit before one of your soldiers puts a bullet through her skull. Still, others follow her lead and your wall of meat falls apart, one half running away, the other half running to, the sheer mass of muscle pushing itself to the King’s front line and hitting out with hammers and bottles and fists. Your guards shout and curse, ignored by everyone but those few they manage to shoot and kill.](else-if: $3b is "True")[A group of cleaners, pushed to the edge of the mass of bureaucrats and business owners, die in the first seconds, their crisp white clothes stained forever with their blood. The sea around you starts to roil, those with their senses pushing desperately back, trying to get behind you, while those many who are in shock stand like breakers against the waves. Some young people flow the opposite way, holding their fists up and declaring that they are ‘for the Republic!’. Some even manage to reach the King’s front line, but having made it that far they seem to not know what to do, and die without taking a single soldier with them.] One of your soldiers violently shoves you off the box you had been standing on, pitching you into the small island of tranquillity, the only point of the floor that isn’t covered by running feet or bleeding bodies. All you can see are your guards and blurred motion between them, but you can still hear the screams and the gunshots. The former are constant and from all directions, but the latter are getting closer. The feeling has sunk its claws in now, and time ceases to make any sense. Your thoughts stretch, run in circles and die. Your nature takes over and you stand up to run, but the world is not what it used to be, gravity pulls in different directions and you fall. A hand reaches to pick you up, but just as suddenly thrusts you down again. You hear a roar of rage, a gunshot so close to your ear you can feel it. Something heavy falls onto your leg. The force next to you rolls, shouts words you cannot understand, and then crunches. Something presses into you and you howl with pain, something warm splashes onto your face and again hands are on you, pulling you up against bodies pressing so tight against you that you can no longer fall, even though your legs shake. The echo of shots vibrate through the bodies pressed against you. “I’m sorry Dictator. I’m so sorry.” The lieutenant voice is the only one you’ve picked out, his face the only one turned to yours. He breaks eye contact the moment you have it, and you watch as he takes half a step forward. He does something with his arms, and as the woman to your left collapses as something shining appears through his tight brown uniform. Another soldier jumps in the way, and for a moment all you can see is red. Another, screaming rage and patriotism, tries to take the last woman’s place. Force pushes you forward and back, a rib screaming but holding as something runs down the lens of one of your glasses. A shot, and the soldier falls dead at your feet. You see her face, a dark hole just above her left eye. She blinks as she twitches, and a second shot opens her skull and finishes her. Another dark hole meets you when you look up. “Dictator?” The soldier is moments away from firing, but all you can do is stare. You hear him cock the pistol. “Dictator?” You open your mouth and spit comes out, a string of it bouncing up and down as you nod. The gun barrel moves aside and your vision opens up. Every sense hits you, and you retreat from reality, vaguely aware that you walking, vaguely aware that you have vomited. The smell and taste of the acid, the burning at the back of your throat, it centres you, gives your mind something to fix on so everything else can be pushed away. You feel the cold air around you, the breeze fresh, your mind alighting briefly, realising what you have just left, and you retch again, but nothing comes up. A moment later and there is a pain in your side, a man demanding that you say something. You do, but apparently it was the wrong thing, you should be saying who you are, so you do, looking up at the giant on the white horse, so clean and so alive. [[Accept your fate.]]](else:)[The door opens. There is a ripple through the crowd, a hundred bodies all trying to move in the same direction at once. There is the potential for a stampede, a crush through the back doors, but the wave calms when all glance around to see only the veteran in her Republic brown standing in the starlit entrance. “Dictator, they will discuss terms.” There is a pause. “So what do you say?” [[If they leave now, we will let them live.]] [[We will agree to make economic concessions to the Kingdom, but we will give up no freedoms.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a quarter of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a third of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We surrender on the condition that no more former Republican citizens are killed.]] [[We surrender, but in return for a position for me at court.]]]

(if: $3a or $3b is "True")[The woman stares at you for an uncomfortably long time. If there is hate in her eyes, it is hidden before you could be sure it was ever there. Then she turns, suddenly, to the lieutenant.](else:)[The woman nods and turns to the lieutenant.] “You know what to do.” The young man nods, sweating in the cold, and takes back his command. You quickly lose track of what he is saying. The quaver never leaves his voice, but as more and more time passes without the arrival of the King’s troops, his orders become both more direct and more receptive, quickly taking in the information that his subordinates are bringing him about the building and the surrounding area. The flow of encouragement and military jargon is comforting, and then it abruptly stops. Most of your guards have taken positions on the roof or near windows.(if: $1b is "True")[ Even the guards you found at the Senate have been given positions, positions they seemed eager to take.] You are alone again. No-one is talking(if: $3a is "True")[, even the merchants, still huddling at the back of the room, are silent.](else-if: $3b is "True")[, even the faithful have begun to pray in silence.](else:)[.] You find yourself desperate for something to do: pick up a gun, help build morale, write a speech, pray, something, anything. Anything to keep your mind from vacillating between the grief of everything you have ever known and worked for being torn down and the fear of pain and death. You try to keep your mind to the former. You tell yourself that this is because of the nobility of the sentiment. You try not to remember a report that you were handed last week by a secret service operative finally, grudgingly, accepting your authority. You never read the full report, but of course you read the section on torture. Something you would deal with later, you had decided, putting the vile paper to one side and picking up something else instead, infrastructure reform or some such. Those interrogation techniques are something you will not mourn the death of, although rationally you recognise that they will probably be amongst the few things that survive the cultural purge that is about to begin. That is, if the Kingdom doesn’t already have them. Your thoughts are impaled by a trumpet blast. In your sweating, panting fear you had not noticed the sounds of hundreds of soldiers approaching, but you hear them now, the muffled noises of a highly organised army shifting with adrenaline and nervousness. There is a pause after the King’s anthem has finished. You do not notice that your every muscle is tensed until you hear the first shots, cracking sounds mostly from above you. You almost relax, and then scream as a sound twenty times as loud shakes the building. You see the door, a door that you had not fully registered had been reinforced, buckle and bulge. A battering-ram, you suppose, and the next slam seems to confirm it. The door will not hold for long. Blinding, reeling, sickening images of death and pain fill your mind, tempered only by the knowledge that you have done all that you could, you have done the right thing. (if: ($b1 or $b5 or $b4 is "True") and $c3 is "True" and $d1 is "True")[And then there is another slam, but this one is different. You feel it in your legs, but the door does not crack, the building does not shake. The guns do not stop firing, but there is a clear moment of stillness, a pause. Then, faintly but clearly, you hear a royalist voice. “He’s dead, the General is dead!” The ram does not sound again, although the door is cracked enough to let in weak starlight. Your guards stop firing, although none come down to tell you that it is over. You wait, lost, unwilling to hope but unable to stop. Time passes. Distant sounds of gunfire. Shouts and screams, muffled by walls and distance. More time passes, but not much. Then again the shocking jolt of gunfire above you. Moments later you hear the sound of the young lieutenant’s voice, strangled with excitement. Then he is down with you, yelling out his orders to his troops, pulling anything they can find in front of the door, setting themselves up behind improvised cover. Fear twists you one way, but the soldier’s excitement infects you and twists the other. The tension breaks as the ram strikes again, and you just manage to not pass out. The following slam, you notice, is little more than a slap. The guards around you are focussed and disciplined, underlining the chaotic shouting and screaming coming from the other side of the shattered wooden door. Another weak poke of the ram and the rents in the wood are large enough to shoot through. More screams from the King’s men outside. There is a pause, and then a rifle butt appears in the ruined wood of the door. You hear the fleshy bounding thud of people pushing their shoulders against the reinforced wood. One man sticks his hand into a gap in an attempt to pull aside the slats. A gunshot sounds, and one of his fingers falls to the floor. One of the snipers still on the roof shouts down a status report. They’re almost through, she says. But we can take them. It is minutes later, minutes of cautious probing and little gunfire, that the tortured door finally collapses. Now you do scream, the hope that you had been building roiling through and out of your body, as the royalists charge in like a mob, shouting and waving their weapons like desperate cornered animals. Tens of them stream through the narrow doorway. Your soldiers slaughter them all. None ever really stood a chance. They were charging an entrenched position through a funnelled opening. They had no real organisation or discipline. Two of your soldiers die, the young lieutenant and a young woman. You must find out their names later. They should be remembered. The flow of enemy troops stops suddenly, not long before the doorway would have been clogged by bodies. A call comes down from above. “They’ve surrendered!” You all cheer. Someone produces vodka from somewhere, (if: $3c is "True")[probably your personal store,] and you have all had several shots, all too jubilated to talk, by the time Minister Lebedeva arrives to explain what happened. The royalist forces were preparing for another assault on the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion] when the minister and the small Republican army arrived. There was confusion in their ranks, Lebedeva posits a power struggle but has no way of confirming that, and the royalist army split, the larger part evading the fight altogether and retreating out of the city while another part attempted to take the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion]. Stuck between a fortified position and an army of superior numbers and morale, it was not hard to force that section to surrender. A runner arrives to inform the Minister for Defence that the man reportedly in charge of the defeated section of the army, a Major Pruefer, has been captured. Minister Lebedeva orders him questioned, and while the pages of that secret service report flick through your mind, you say nothing. So what happens now? The royalists will be back. The majority of their army retreated. Plans must be made, defences erected, and, no doubt, political battles fought. But now, right now, you are alive. And so you order the industrial stores opened, and another round of vodka poured.](else-if: ($1b is "True" and $2b is "True") or ($1b is "True" and $3a is "True") and $d3 is "True")[Then the woman, the veteran, is back, ordering a handful of soldiers with quick, excited gestures. She stabs a finger at you, and then at a spare barrel of powder, and gestures for you to follow her. You follow her command as quickly as you can, just managing to keep a hold of the heavy barrel as another ram shakes the building. The woman has you place the explosives just by the door to (if: $3a is "True")[a small overhang fitted with a crane. Then she pushes you out of the way.](else:)[a balcony. “I’m sorry about this Dictator.” she says, before pushing you out of the way.] A large section of the front of the building collapses in a shower of stone and fire. Most of the screams from below you end abruptly, but some collapse into whimpers and strangled, airless cries of agony. You can hear the ripple of shock passing through the King’s army. Someone in the distance begins yelling orders over the shouts and screams of panicked soldiers, but your guards have already returned to defensive positions, firing on the remnants of the front line now madly scrambling to get out of range of your guns. Then there is stillness again, within the building if not without. Your soldiers seem to have forgotten about you as they stand at the ready to meet the second wave(if: $1b is "True")[, the guards you found at the Senate now completely integrated with the professional soldiers]. The noise from outside is distorted and distant, but your stomach churns as the shouting and screaming gives way to the sound of marching, hundreds of voices deferring finally to just one. Then, distantly, you hear the sound of gunfire. You look up, scrambling over bits of masonry to see what is going on. Outside the King’s army has only just rearranged itself, a front line looking just moments away from charging. But that is not what draws your eye. Out of the alleys and streets of Alexisgrad come soldiers uniformed not in royal maroon but in Republic brown. The King’s army does not look prepared. What had been the flank, but is now the front line, seems to break very quickly, with soldiers running in every direction at once. What was the front line, but is now the flank, hesitates, not knowing whether to move round, hold position or simply charge forward. It’s chaos, and for a moment you allow yourself to hope. But the numbers, and you have always had a great respect for number, are not good. And is it not true that nine times out of ten it is the side with the larger army that wins the battle? You don’t know. You feel sick as you watch, seeing death on a scale you can’t quite comprehend and not knowing what any of it means. So you ask the woman, the veteran. She hesitates before answering. “I don’t know Dictator. I haven’t gambled for a few years now, but if I could find anyone to take the bet, I reckon I’d get pretty rough odds on a royalist victory, but I’d take it.” There’s a pause, and then she clarifies. “I think we’re probably still going to lose.” You feel bile rising in your throat. You ask how certain she is, whether she thinks that the royalists know that. She shrugs. “We’ve got a better view from up here, and I know how we fight better than they do. I don’t know, in their shoes, I’d probably give us more credit than we’re due.” Your mind is made up before she’s finished speaking. It is all so far away, so removed, you cannot even see the blood, but you know that the people of the Republic are dying. Your people. You tell the woman that you’re going to make terms. She nods, but it is not until you prod her that she realises it’s up to her to make the royalists realise that. And so she disappears, and a few moments later, many deaths later, you hear her shouting from the top of the roof, again and again, that you are willing to discuss terms. Something moves in the mass of bodies that is the royal army. A few seconds later, an amplified voice booms back at you, wanting to make sure he heard right. The woman on the roof above you confirms. A moment later the voice is booming out again: “Ceasefire, hold your fire! The Dictator will discuss terms!” It takes some time before your soldiers stop firing, and your guards do not stop yelling until they do. You are briefly pleased to see that your word does hold sway. But you cannot rest for long. The sea in front of you is parting, and your guards are ushering you forward. “Dictator, what do you say? What will you offer them?” [[If they leave now, we will let them live.]] [[We will agree to make economic concessions to the Kingdom, but we will give up no freedoms.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a quarter of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a third of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We surrender on the condition that no more former Republican citizens are killed.]] [[We surrender, but in return for a position for me at court.]]](else:)[Another crash, splinters flying through the air, and then another sends the door spinning across the room, its hinges flying off and pinging dangerously against the wall. Some of your troops have made it back down to your position by this point, and for a brief moment you begin, despite yourself, to feel hope. They have dug in better than you would have thought, and several royalist soldiers fall in quick succession. But then one of your soldiers takes a bullet, and then another, and another, and while more of the King’s soldiers lie dead than yours, it is not long before, again, you are alone. You feel your stomach spasm, but you manage to hold your last meal down as you meet the eyes of tens of men, each of them one small movement of one finger away from ending your life. (if: $d1 is "True")[A giant of a man, broad shouldered and standing impeccably straight, glides through the room. Even if you did not recognise the epaulettes of a general, you would have known that this man was in charge from the way that his men move around him without even having to look at him. He is the absolutely controlled centre of the storm. You tell him who you are before he asks and then, without thinking, you place your wrists together and raise them towards him. Of all the aspects of your personality to have taken control at this moment, you are glad that it was your dignity.](else-if: $d2 is "True")[A tall man, his medals and waxed moustache both shining even in this poor light, marches around the room. His eyes do not settle on you, his momentary gaze telling you instantly that you are dismissed. He organises quickly, his men moving in mechanical bursts to fill the entire building. Only once he has failed to find what he was looking for does his attention come back to you(if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ and the other unarmed civilians in the room]. A moment later you realise that you spoke, the simple assertion that you are the Dictator an after-image on your mind. The man looks you up and down, and confers with a subordinate before turning back and ordering his men to help escort you. Then you are back out in the cold of the night, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the tall man, who seems like a reed next to the titan now before you, and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.](else:)[A short man, stocky but not yet fat, any possible double chin hidden behind a prodigious beard, barrels through the room. He gives a few orders before he turns to you, lowering his gun and indicating you with a finger instead of a barrel. “Excuse me, but we are here to arrest the Dictator. It would be good of you to help us find her.” You pause for a second, the possibility of escape battering at your chest, but then you remember (if: $3a is "True")[the merchants](else-if: $3b is "True")[the worshippers](else:)[the large portrait of you upstairs, the plaque of which you giddily updated with your rank just a few days ago]. And so you identify yourself, quickly and simply. “Okay Dictator. We’re going to take you to the general now. He’s a good man, he will decide the right thing to do with you.” The man’s tone implies a choice, but his soldiers back his words up with the dark pits of rifle barrels. The man, a Major if you recognise his epaulettes, does not seem to notice as he turns and leads you back out into the cold night air, the King’s army in front, around, then also behind you as you are taken to a giant of a man, broad shouldered and sitting impeccably straight on a white horse. You repeat what you said to the bearded man and then offer your wrists, pressed together, up towards him. Thousands of eyes are on you, thousands of gun barrels seconds away from being raised. You will, you have decided, die with dignity.] [[Accept your fate.]]]

The woman stares at you for several seconds, as if trying to make up her mind about something, before clearly giving up and shrugging. “An order is an order. We’ll need horses and supplies. The supplies shouldn’t be too hard, Dictator take a soldier and requisition what you can here, just what we can carry. Lieutenant, the rest of us will have to search for the horses, won’t we?” The lieutenant nods, and a few moments later realises his cue. Soon you are alone, even the (if: $1b is "True")[guard, one of the ones you picked up back at the Senate,](else:)[soldier] that the woman left for you disappearing in the search for supplies. And so you make yourself busy. (if: $3a is "True")[You start by ripping crates open at random, but when every single one of them produces nothing but arcane pieces of machinery you widen your area of search. Ultimately, however, it is the traders, still huddling at the back, who tell you where to look. It’s not altruism, you decide, that makes them point you towards a small, well stocked staff storeroom off the side of the main warehouse area, but eternally reliable bourgeois self-interest; they want you gone from here as quickly as possible. The food is simple, the kind of stuff you have decried at Senate meetings but never eaten, but it is built to last.](else-if: $3b is "True")[You quickly decide that simply wandering around the great hall of the cathedral is not going to bring you what you need, so you do what you do best: talk to people. A small number simply refuse to talk to you, and of those who do engage very few seem to know who you are. You cannot stop yourself feeling a sting from that, nor can you stop yourself planning how to improve outreach, how to bring the Senate and the proletariat closer. But then reality reasserts itself, and you push on until you find a church orderly, barely comprehensible through her weeping at Casimir’s feet. She points with shaking fingers towards the private wing of the building, and when you come back to her the second time she gives you its key. There is not much food, but the church is prepared for holy days of day-long prayer, so there is enough.](else:)[You do not hesitate in going straight to the kitchen. You choke back nostalgia as you enter, seeing all the equipment, all ruthlessly clean as always. You have not spent much time here for many years. Not since you were a child, when hanging around whoever was cooking was the best way to guarantee an extra snack. No time to remember that now. You walk past it all and push open the doors to the pantry, the only forbidden room in the house way back then, and unfamiliar now, although you snuck in a few times as a child and made sure that you had a proper look around when you were a teenager and finally deemed mature enough to not gorge yourself on sweets. The shelves are depressingly bare, the fresh vegetables gone and the highest quality meats now salted. Still, anything that wouldn’t keep has already been eaten or thrown away, so you grab those sturdy, long-life foods that you can.] When it comes to other supplies, you do not even know where to begin, but luckily when the soldier returns it is with blankets, matches, water canteens and a myriad other things that are all painfully obvious in hindsight. Not long later, the veteran and the lieutenant return, alone except for three horses. “The others are still looking for more.” the woman says. Even without the lieutenant’s guilty refusal to meet your eyes, you would have known this was a lie. It is too late to argue, and with only three horses too late also to do or say anything when the veteran sends your last guard away to ‘join the search’. Perhaps it is better to travel in smaller numbers anyway, and you cannot fault the logic. You could never be safe in Alexisgrad, but all the soldiers need to do is take off their uniforms and they can disappear into the crowd. (if: $3a is "True")[The warehouse is a strange but perhaps appropriate place from which to leave your home ground, but you do not have long to dwell on that before you](else-if: $3b is "True")[You say a last prayer to Casimir and](else:)[No time would be long enough to say goodbye to your family home, so you move quickly to] help load the horses with your scavenged supplies and, without a trace of ceremony, set off. You had not realised how lost in your own thoughts you had been. What you had thought was pragmatic efficiency was actually panicked desperation. The King’s army has already reached the front of (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home]. “Ride Dictator, as fast as you can!” the lieutenant calls, the veteran already pulling ahead. Maroon clad royalist soldiers are pointing towards you, some brandishing rifles but all professional enough to know that you are out of range. Just. The veteran leads the way, pushing desperately hard through the streets of your home. You quickly lose consciousness of where you are, your vision replacing details with shapes, your awareness narrowing to speed and paths. You did not know you could ride this fast, and as you hurtle over cobbles and flagstones your heart races and thrill forces a smile across your lips. And then, without any warning, (if: $b3 or $b4 is "True")[the houses are gone and everything is endless blackness ahead and dirt beneath. You hear the lieutenant begin to weep his thanks to the Pantheon while the veteran begins to laugh, not slowing her pace as you now begin to move away from, rather than through, the city. You do not stop until you are miles to the north, deep within the forest, far from any tracks. The soldiers, tired but not nearly as tired as you, dismount and lead their horses to a nearby stream, the water so cold you cannot fully understand why it has not frozen. You each drink, all six of you, and only then do you each turn to each other. “What now?” Was it you who asked the question? Or one of them? Either way, the answer is as simple as it is unclear: a shrug and the word ‘north’. But what about Alexisgrad? The veteran smiles, neither kindly nor unkindly. “It’s gone. You have to understand Dictator that Alexisgrad has fallen. That means the Senate is gone too. You //are// the Republic’s government now. And there is no Republic to the south. So we’ll go north, to what’s left. You live, so the Republic lives, Dictator. It is up to you what that means.”](else:)[there are horses in front of you, medals of service to the King glinting in the starlight. The veteran lets out a curse and the lieutenant screams. Both reach for their guns, and both die quickly. You barely manage to stay on your horse, and by the time the world has stopped spinning and the echoes of the shots have faded away you have the barrel of a gun sticking into your side and two large men surrounding you. One of them asks if you are the Dictator, and without thinking you tell him that you are. He, the man rounder than you would have expected from a cavalryman and sporting a large brown beard, nods kindly and begins to lead you back to (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home]. You do not let yourself think. You close your eyes and hold everything in: the rising vomit, your urge to scream, the psyche-breaking realisation that you have failed, failed yourself, failed the Republic, and failed the people. You only open your eyes again when your horse is brought to a stop and you are, neither roughly nor gently, dismounted. The King’s army is huge. You never stood a chance. The bearded man stays with you, occasionally giving an order but mostly looking as if he wants to talk, but not knowing what to say. Then the atmosphere shifts and he snaps to attention as a giant of a man, tall and broad shouldered and looking as muscular as the horse that he rides, appears and makes his way straight over to you. The bearded man identifies you, but you do not listen as finally your rage and anger finds an outlet in this man, his epaulettes marking him out as a general. You thrust your arms towards him, your wrists together. You may be about to die, but you will, you have decided, die with dignity. [[Accept your fate.]]]

You begin to make your preparations as you lead the march to (if: $3a is "True")[the factory. It is not as easy as it first looked like it would be. You meet no resistance as you move through the centre of the city, the bureaucratic heart of the Republic, but things become difficult as you enter the industrial area towards the city’s docks. You had not expected civilian resistance. Perhaps you should have done. When the industrial age came to the Kingdom, the King was wise enough to only let it bloom in the port and caravan cities and therefore, crucially, not the royal capital. The King’s air would always smell of roses, he had declared, which was why the Republic’s Senate often sat under a cloud of smog while the King’s court was always free to gaze up towards the sky. But it does mean that you had, foolishly, not prepared for civilian action from the industrial class. Strong-looking men, and women too, harass you as you pass by, some firing into your ranks, but most contenting themselves with lobbing stones and bottles, some filled with flaming liquid. You order those shot who need to be, and while your few casualties probably do outweigh civilian deaths, the mob is too disorganised to mount any serious opposition. You even see one poor man burst from a doorway carrying a scrappy, outdated King’s flag, badly belting out a wordless rendition of your national anthem. Unarmed, he is an easier target for the crowd than you are, and you soon lose sight of him under a mass of stones, bodies and broken bottles. And then, suddenly, the crowd is gone, harassing your flank but no longer attempting to hem you in as you enter the industrial zone proper and quickly find the warehouse you had been searching for. ](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral. You do not have long. The second largest building in the city after the Senate, and the tallest, the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator is not hard to find. You studied Casimir in military school and you have always found it hard to accept the respect that even some loyal royalists have for him. Like all the Republic’s gods, Casimir was once a real person, only to be blasphemously ‘deified’ after his death. To the Republicans he was a philosopher, a man of letters who inspired his followers to strive for liberty and freedom. To some of your more open minded and generous compatriots, he was a gifted military strategists, the man who, while the greatest enemy the Kingdom has ever faced, taught your nation a great deal about the importance of politics within war. But to you, and many others unwilling to dirty the honour of war with deviousness and deception, he was a terrorist and a coward, a man willing to send others to commit vile acts of murder and terror while he took the political credit. Which is not to glorify his revolutionaries who died carrying out acts of assassination or sabotage, but you do believe that while there are few things worse than committing dishonourable murder, //ordering// dishonourable murder without having the dignity to do it yourself is one. And now the greatest monument to his memory stands towering above you. ](else:)[the mansion. The streets barely change as you make your way from the bureaucratic heart of the Republic to its most affluent residential zone. The architectural fashion is different, but not alien. Not many of the buildings at home, in the royal capital, are as new as these estates, but the Republican taste for peaked roofs is something you have seen echoed in the renovations that sweep court society from time to time. And the influence seems to bleed the other way too. While most houses here boast the intricate metalwork fences so integral to Republican style, even those are built into solid stone foundations rising a few feet off the ground. And more than once you see the curving wall of a turret, a necessary feature of many Kingdom buildings built for defence and economy of space, but utterly pointless in this opulent district of manors and mansions. You see as many pointless arrow slit windows here, each amusingly covered in glass, as you have seen painfully impractical stained glass windows at home. What you are most surprised by, however, are the signs of conflict: barricades thrown up across entrance ways, shattered windows, bullet holes, and doors boarded shut. All defences haphazard, none of them structural. Any Kingdom manor would be able to survive a siege, while all these homeowners had were pieces of scrap and their own woefully inadequate ingenuity. The Dictator’s mansion, when you reach it, bears no battle scars. ](if: $4a is "True")[You see no signs of resistance, but still, you have your front line take up assault positions before ramming the front door, which bangs open, unlocked. A woman stands trembling just behind the shattered door. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well-maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. You find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. (if: $3a is "True")[There are other people here, a couple of women and a man cowering at the back of the space, each unhooking purses and jewellery, holding shining gold and silver towards you in a pitiful attempt to buy their own lives. Of the people here, only the woman who spoke to you could be the Dictator.](else-if: $3b is "True")[There are plenty of other people here, desperate individuals weeping or down on their knees praying for a miracle even at this late moment. Of the people here, only the woman who spoke to you could be the Dictator.](else:)[There is no-one else here. This woman, however unlikely she looks, must be the Dictator.] [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4b or $4c is "True")[The Dictator’s guards are not subtle. They begin shooting at you from the moment you appear. They let out shaky battle cries and move frantically from position to position. It is a tactic you have seen before, an attempt to use chaos and intimidation to create the illusion of a larger force. It is the panicked false bravado of a cornered animal and you deal with it accordingly. You take position behind a nearby building and order your snipers to take out as many soldiers as they can, and then move in to pick off the last few with a small elite squad. There were even fewer defenders than you had expected. Only two soldiers, an older woman and a scared looking young lieutenant,(if: $4c is "True")[ and an obviously untrained civilian,] remain standing when you burst into the building. One soldier is taken out by a pistol shot from your leading man, the second is cut down by a sabre thrust from your second. (if: $4c is "True")[The overzealous civilian receives a shot to her stomach.] (if: $3a or $3b is "True")[The screams of the few civilians there, (if: $3a is "True")[three terrified-looking merchant types,](else:)[a not insignificant number of worshippers, desperately weeping or down on their knees praying for a miracle even at this late moment,] take longer to die than the soldiers.] You shout out that you are looking for the Dictator, at which point (if: $4b is "True")[a woman (if: $3a is "True")[appears from where she had been crouching behind a stack of crates](else-if: $3b is "True")[stands up from her position praying on her knees in front of the giant glass statue of Casimir](else:)[steps out of a side room]](else:)[the civilian on the ground lets go of her profusely bleeding gut] and holds up her hand. “I am the Dictator.” You look the woman up and down. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. She does not look like what you had imagined, but (if: $3a or $3b is "True")[from the looks of everyone else in the space,](else:)[from the lack of anyone else alive remaining within the house,] it is clear she speaks the truth. She holds out her (if: $4c is "True")[bloody] hands, her wrists together. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4d is "True")[A single soldier stands in front of the front door, unarmed and smoking a cigarette which she crushes under her foot when you come close enough to converse with her. “General, I presume?” She shrugs, “The Dictator is inside. But so are about a hundred civilians. (if: $3a is "True")[Hard working men and women, the kind of people who could either keep this city running for you or break it to burning bits.](else-if: $3b is "True")[Mostly blue bloods, important people with important connections.] There are a few soldiers as well, but they’re around the Dictator, so the first thing you’ll have to worry about are the unarmed civilians. They understand that we won’t let them leave. There are just enough of us to make sure of that, and just enough of them who are patriotic enough to make sure that doesn’t happen. So. What will it be? Shall I take a message back to the Dictator that you are willing to discuss terms? Or will you prove all of our war propaganda right?” [[Shoot her and then storm the building.]] [[Tell her you will negotiate terms.]]](else-if: $4e is "True")[(if: $3a is "True")[The squat stone building has been hastily fortified, its few ground level windows well boarded up, the hinges of its large main doors clearly broken and locked in place. The thunk of rifle rounds digging themselves deep into the mud street tells you that there are snipers on the roof.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The windows at ground level have been boarded up, and the barrels of rifles point down at you from positions too high above you to easily hit.](else:)[But it is unique in that it is the only building that is, currently, prepared for a siege. The ping of rifle rounds off the cobbled street tells you that there are snipers on the roof.] This is what you had expected. A final, organised show of force, a desperate but competent last stand. A call for the last charge. Your men are ready, you are ready. The enemy is well hunkered down, delaying would just prove to them that their strategy is sound and increase their morale. This is where it ends. You give the order. Your trumpet players starts to play the national anthem. The back lines give you covering fire, more for show than for effect against well-positioned sniper fire, and your men rush across the open distance, covering their battering-ram. One goes down, a squirt of blood shooting straight upwards from the dead centre of his skull as he collapses. The other men falter, the weight skewing forward and to the side, but you step forward and grab the grips as they slide out of the dead man’s hands. Someone beside you roars in patriotic fury and you surge forward, the shock of the ram colliding with the door jarring through your (if: ($b1 is "True" or $b5 is "True" or $b4 is "True") and $c3 is "True")[tired ]body. The door cracks and creaks, but holds. You order the siege weapon pulled back(if: ($b1 is "True" or $b5 is "True" or $b4 is "True") and $c3 is "True")[, your muscles screaming,] and again the brass head impacts with the door, which again shakes but holds. (if: $3a is "True")[It’s industrial strength](else-if: $3b is "True")[It’s been secured with a heavy drop bar](else:)[It’s probably had furniture stacked behind it]. (if: ($b1 is "True" or $b5 is "True" or $b4 is "True") and $c3 is "True")[One of your soldiers shouts something, but it gets lost. You have heard too much today, from (if: $b1 or $b4 is "True")[leading the charge on the Republican line](else-if: $b5 is "True")[scampering over the roofs to flank the Republican line] to the ultimately unnecessary tension of storming the Senate to where you stand now, the ram pulling your already tired body down, that pain and weakness finally creeping into your mind as you lose yourself to the task at hand, the pull on your muscles, the sweet sound of cracking wood. For a single moment the command is too much, being a man is too much, and you slip back into being a tool of the Kingdom, the mind giving up and allowing just being muscle and bone to be enough. You do not hear the man’s shout. But you do hear the scream. A moment later you feel the pain. You do not have the time to marvel at the angle that put a bullet straight through your neck, because you have already lost your footing, the ram falling and pinning you, the new pain unnecessary, the new breaking unnecessary. You barely see your men scatter, your mouth opening and closing, thick blood running unnoticed from the corner. “He’s dead, the General is dead!” You hear someone shout, and it is with a small sense of pride at your men that you note that he is right.](else:)[One of your soldiers shouts something, an observation that the snipers above seem to have moved, and you order a change in your own positioning accordingly. You cannot help but feel pride, at both yourself and your men for spotting it, when a shot lands harmlessly exactly where you had been standing just a moment ago. But there is no time for you to reflect, you have already ordered the ram brought back, and this time the crash rips the door back to collapse onto the floor of the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[church](else:)[mansion]. You order the ram dropped, (if: $3a is "True")[letting it thud into the mud](else:)[snapping cobbles in two as it lands], and order the charge. The Republican soldiers perform admirably. They have found, or created, good positions in which to dig in and they hold those positions until the end. But there are no more than a handful of them and while, tragically, they take more of your men than you take of theirs, it is not long before they all lie dead. (if: ($b1 is "True" or $b5 is "True" or $b4 is "True") or $c3 is "True")[You let out a long, tired sigh. You have pushed yourself hard tonight and you cannot help but feel you have only narrowly avoided something horrendous. But here you stand, looking](else:)[You look] around the space. (if: $3a is "True")[There are four people here, a couple of women and a man cower at the back of the space, each unhooking purses and jewellery, holding shining gold and silver towards you in a pitiful attempt to buy their own lives. But one woman stands separate, a woman the other three continue to glance towards, clearly hoping that your eyes will follow theirs and fix on her and forget about them.](else-if: $3b is "True")[There are plenty of other people here, desperate individuals weeping or down on their knees praying for a miracle even at this late moment. Only one stands straight and meets your eyes, a woman many of he others continue to glance towards, clearly hoping that your eyes will follow theirs and fix on her and forget about them.](else:)[There is only one civilian in the house.] The woman is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. She does not look anything like what you’d imagined the Dictator would look like, although you had been having difficulties imagining the Dictator as a woman at all, but from the way she holds herself, she is clearly the person you are looking for. Still you ask for confirmation, and after she nods she holds her hands out, her wrists together, ready to submit. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]](else:)[You see no signs of resistance, but still, you have your front line take up assault positions, but before you can order it brought back one of your snipers calls out: “General, a civilian and two soldiers seem to be fleeing from the far end of the building. I couldn’t get a good line on them.” You waste no time and turn straight to where Major Pruefer waits, some distance away. “I need your best horses. Now!” (if: $b3 or $b4 is "True")[The Major looks at you, panic clear in his eyes even from this distance. “They’re dead sir, or left behind. The cavalry charge sir, they didn’t make it. There are no fresh horses.” You curse and jump onto your own steed, one of only three, you realise, that you’ve seen since charging the front line. You know it is hopeless. Your horse is tired and even if it wasn’t, you are charging alone after three individuals, two of them armed, in a city that they know and you don’t. As it happens you do not even find them. If you had had the numbers it would have been trivial to spread out, possibly even create a cordon. But alone you are lost, and the Dictator is free. You return to your men, who have now dug in to defend against a sudden attack from the flank. You join them, although your tiredness and despondency mean you allow Colonel Bechtholdt to lead, wiping away the opposition with minimal casualties on your side. After that, it is a trivial matter to occupy the city. Occupy, but not conquer. Eventually you have the Senate, who now seem to answer to their minister of war, a woman whom Colonel Bechtholdt was restrained enough to capture rather than kill, ratify a document surrendering the city to you. But the Republic as a whole, they insist, remains under the control of the Dictator. And so Alexisgrad fell. But the war goes on.](else:)[Pruefer does not hesitate. He pushes his cavalry forward and you lead the way, ordering them to fan out and create a cordon as you do so. It does not take long, you racing down an alleyway beside one of Major Pruefer’s elite, before you hear the signal, three shots in sequence over the quiet city, three shots to the rhythm of the first three notes of the King’s anthem. You ride back more slowly, savouring the moment. The Dictator is already there when you arrive, standing untouched between two dismounted cavalryman. She is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. She does not look anything like what you’d imagined the Dictator would look like, although you had been having difficulties imagining the Dictator as a woman at all, but from the way she holds herself, she is clearly the person you are looking for. She stares at you with defiant eyes, their over magnification betraying the way they quiver wetly with fear. Without saying a word she puts her arms forward, wrists together, ready to submit. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]]

Bechtholdt makes his preparations quickly as he leads the march towards (if: $3a is "True")[the factory. It is not as easy as it first looked like it would be. You meet no resistance as you move through the centre of the city, the bureaucratic heart of the Republic, but things become difficult as you enter the industrial area towards the city’s docks. You had not expected civilian resistance. Perhaps you should have. When the industrial age came to the Kingdom, the King was wise enough to only let it bloom in the port and caravan cities and therefore, crucially, not the royal capital. The King’s air would always smell of roses, he had declared, which was why the Republic’s Senate often sat under a cloud of smog while the King’s court was always free to gaze up towards the sky. But it does mean that you had, foolishly, not prepared for civilian action from the industrial class. Strong-looking men, and women too, harass you as you pass by, some firing into your ranks but most contenting themselves with lobbing stones and bottles, some filled with flaming liquid. Shots fill the air as Bechtholdt gives the order to fire into the crowd. This was the cue some of them had been waiting for, workers charging out of cover wielding scrappy pistols or knives or rocks. They die quickly. The rest of the crowd, the lucky ones, simply scatter. You pick your way over the bodies as you move forward, now unmolested, and quickly find the warehouse you had been searching for. ](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral. The second largest building in the city after the Senate, and the tallest, the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator is not hard to find. You studied Casimir in military school and you have always found it hard to accept the respect that even some loyal royalists have for him. Like all the Republic’s gods, Casimir was once a real person, only to be blasphemously ‘deified’ after his death. To the Republicans he was a philosopher, a man of letters who inspired his followers to strive for liberty and freedom. To some of your more open minded and generous compatriots, he was a gifted military strategist, the man who, while the greatest enemy the Kingdom has ever faced, taught your nation a great deal about the importance of politics within war. But to you, and many others unwilling to dirty the honour of war with deviousness and deception, he was a terrorist and a coward, a man willing to send others to commit vile acts of murder and terror while he took the political credit. Which is not to glorify his revolutionaries who died carrying out acts of assassination or sabotage, but you do believe that while there are few things worse than committing dishonourable murder, //ordering// dishonourable murder without having the dignity to do it yourself is one. And now the greatest monument to his memory stands towering above you. ](else:)[the mansion. The streets barely change as you make your way from the bureaucratic heart of the Republic to its most affluent metropolitan residential zone. The architectural fashion is different, but not alien. Not many of the buildings at home, in the royal capital, are as new as these estates, but the Republican taste for peaked roofs is something you have seen echoed in the renovations that sweep court society from time to time. And the influence seems to bleed the other way too. While most houses here boast the intricate metalwork fences so integral to Republican style, even those are built into solid stone foundations rising a few feet off the ground. And more than once you see the curving wall of a turret, a necessary feature of many Kingdom buildings built for defence and economy of space, but utterly pointless in this opulent district of manors and mansions. You see as many pointless arrow slit windows here, each amusingly covered in glass, as you have seen painfully impractical stained glass windows at home. What you are most surprised by, however, are the signs of conflict: barricades thrown up across entrance ways, shattered windows, bullet holes, and doors boarded shut. All defences haphazard, none of them structural. Any Kingdom manor would be able to survive a siege, while all these homeowners had were pieces of scrap and their own woefully inadequate ingenuity. The Dictator’s mansion, when you reach it, bears no battle scars. ](if: $4a is "True")[You see no signs of resistance, but still, Bechtholdt has his front line take up assault positions before ramming the front door, which bangs open, unlocked. From the back you wait as Bechtholdt moves in, appearing very soon after with a prisoner. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. Your Colonel brings her right to you, and you find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. (if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ “We searched the space sir,” Bechthold tells you, “the other prisoners corroborated her story.”](else:)[ “We searched the building sir.” Bechthold tells you. “There was no-one else there. She almost certainly is who she says she is.”] [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4b or $4c is "True")[(if: $3c is "True")[Or at least, you are told it didn’t. ]The shooting has already finished by the time you arrive and Colonel Bechtholdt is waiting for you with a prisoner. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. You find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. (if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ “We searched the space sir,” Bechthold tells you, “the other prisoners corroborated her story.”](else:)[ “We searched the building sir.” Bechthold tells you. “There was no-one else there. She almost certainly is who she says she is.”] [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4d is "True")[You arrive just in time to see the Colonel give the order to move in. A Republican soldier, who, you are surprised to see, had been standing quite close to the Colonel, reaches for her gun but is shot down before she can even begin to aim it. Without waiting for her to hit the ground the rest of Bechtholdt’s front line moves in, their hastily prepared ram quickly reducing the door of the building to splinters. Then there is a round of gunfire, and screams, and then the gunfire stops. The screams continue. The screams continue for some time, the only living sound in the ghost city, echoing (if: $3a is "True")[down the tight streets of the dockyard.](else-if: $3b is "True")[within the huge central hall of the cathedral before escaping into the night.](else:)[against the unmoving, uncaring facades of houses of the rich and powerful.] Eventually there is gunfire again, a brief exchange, and then the screams pull themselves taught and break into whimpers. A moment later the Colonel emerges. He, his men and the prisoner they are escorting are all dark with blood. The woman, the prisoner, is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. Her eyes appear inhumanly large as she stares at you, clearly lost somewhere dark within her own mind, not comprehending. Vomit still drips from her chin. Bechtholdt, clearly annoyed, jabs her in the ribs with the butt of his rifle and she jumps, blinking rapidly. Then, slowly, she turns to you. “Th-they killed them.” “Not that,” Bechtholdt spits, “tell the general who you are.” The woman looks at the Colonel for a moment, before turning to you and, simply, informing you that: “I’m the Dictator.” “She was surrounded by a cordon of civilians and guards. Even the Republic wouldn’t stoop to such measures for a decoy. It’s her. Now. What shall we do with her, General?” [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4e is "True")[The siege has already begun. (if: $3a is "True")[The squat stone building has been hastily fortified, its few ground level windows well boarded up, the hinges of its large main doors clearly broken and locked in place.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The windows at ground level have been boarded up, and the barrels of rifles glint in the moonlight from positions too high above you to easily hit.](else:)[But it is unique in that it is the only building that is, currently, prepared for a siege. The spark of rifle rounds off the cobbled street tells you that there are snipers on the roof.] As you watch the door splinters beneath the force of the ram and Bechtholdt orders the charge. From the number of shots and screams, you judge that the fight is bloody. But it is also quick. However noble the last stand was, it is quickly clear that there were no more than a handful of defenders. Colonel Bechtholdt emerges, flushed with adrenaline and victory, as you knew he would be, leading a small band of soldiers, a prisoner held tightly in their centre. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. Your Colonel brings her right to you, and you find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. (if: $3a or $3b is "True")[ “We searched the space sir,” Bechthold tells you, “the other prisoners corroborated her story.”](else:)[ “We searched the building sir.” Bechthold tells you. “There was no-one else there. She almost certainly is who she says she is.”] [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else:)[No sooner have you arrived than you hear a shout from the front, one of Bechtholdt’s men shouting to him, and then him turning to shout to you. “She’s getting away! That way, on a horse, with two guards!” You waste no time and turn straight to where Major Pruefer waits, some distance away. “I need your best horses. Now!” (if: $b3 or $b4 is "True")[The Major looks at you, panic clear in his eyes even from this distance. “They’re dead sir, or left behind. The cavalry charge sir, they didn’t make it. There are no fresh horses.” You curse and jump onto your own steed, one of only three, you realise, that you’ve seen since charging the front line. You know it is hopeless. Your horse is tired and even if it wasn’t, the only other person giving chase is Bechtholdt, but even with him, you are searching for three individuals, two of them armed, in a city that they know and you don’t. As it happens you do not even find them. If you had had the numbers it would have been trivial to spread out, possibly even create a cordon. But alone you are lost, and the Dictator is free. You return to your men, who have now dug in to defend against a sudden attack from the flank. You join them, allowing Colonel Bechtholdt to retake the lead, and wipe away the opposition with minimal casualties on your side. After that, it is a trivial matter to occupy the city. Occupy, but not conquer. Eventually you have the Senate, who now seem to answer to their minister of war, whom Colonel Bechtholdt was restrained enough to capture rather than kill, ratify a document surrendering the city to you. But the Republic as a whole, they insist, remains under the control of the Dictator. And so Alexisgrad fell. But the war goes on.](else:)[Pruefer does not hesitate. He pushes his cavalry forward and you lead the way, ordering them to fan out and create a cordon as you do so. It does not take long, you racing down an alleyway beside one of Major Pruefer’s elite, before you hear the signal, three shots in sequence over the quiet city, three shots to the rhythm of the opening of the King’s anthem. You ride back more slowly, savouring the moment. The Dictator is already there when you arrive, standing untouched between Pruefer and a dismounted cavalryman. She is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. She does not look anything like what you’d imagined the Dictator would look like, although you had been having difficulties imagining the Dictator as a woman at all, but from the way she holds herself, she is clearly the person you are looking for. She stares at you with defiant eyes, their over magnification betraying the way they quiver wetly with fear. Without saying a word she puts her arms forward, wrists together, ready to submit. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]]

Pruefer makes his preparations as he leads the march towards (if: $3a is "True")[the factory. It is not as easy as it first looked like it would be. You meet no resistance as you move through the centre of the city, the bureaucratic heart of the Republic, but things become difficult as you enter the industrial area towards the city’s docks. You had not expected civilian resistance. Perhaps you should have. When the industrial age came to the Kingdom, the King was wise enough to only let it bloom in the port and caravan cities and therefore, crucially, not the royal capital. The King’s air would always smell of roses, he had declared, which was why the Republic’s Senate often sat under a cloud of smog while the King’s court was always free to gaze up towards the sky. But it does mean that you had, foolishly, not prepared for civilian action from the industrial class. Strong-looking men, and women too, harass you as you pass by, some firing into your ranks but most contenting themselves with lobbing stones and bottles, some filled with flaming liquid. Your column grinds to a near halt as Pruefer orders his men to take up defensive positions, and forbids firing upon the crowd. For the majority of the crowd, this simply emboldens them. Some of your men on the flanks crack and scream as they are doused in burning fuel, running wildly into the crowd or dropping and manically rolling in the mud. Pruefer does not order his Disciplinarians to intervene. “This is ridiculous!” you hear from somewhere behind you, Colonel Bechtholdt’s voice unmistakable, and a moment later the front line of protesters fall. Major Pruefer twists around, his face compact with rage, but as he does so the crowd falls back and Bechtholdt screams “Move, now, or I’ll do it again!” The Major’s eyes lock on yours for a moment, and then he turns and pushes quickly forward, his line barely more organised than the mob. But you do make it, bursting into the relative quiet of the industrial zone proper, where you quickly find the factory you had been searching for. ](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral. The second largest building in the city after the Senate, and the tallest, the cathedral of Casimir the Liberator is not hard to find. You studied Casimir in military school and you have always found it hard to accept the respect that even some loyal royalists have for him. Like all the Republic’s gods, Casimir was once a real person, only to be blasphemously ‘deified’ after his death. To the Republicans he was a philosopher, a man of letters who inspired his followers to strive for liberty and freedom. To some of your more open minded and generous compatriots, he was a gifted military strategist, the man who, while the greatest enemy the Kingdom has ever faced, taught your nation a great deal about the importance of politics within war. But to you, and many others unwilling to dirty the honour of war with deviousness and deception, he was a terrorist and a coward, a man willing to send others to commit vile acts of murder and terror while he took the political credit. Which is not to glorify his revolutionaries who died carrying out acts of assassination or sabotage, but you do believe that while there are few things worse than committing dishonourable murder, //ordering// dishonourable murder without having the dignity to do it yourself is one. And now the greatest monument to his memory stands towering above you. ](else:)[the mansion. The streets barely change as you make your way from the bureaucratic heart of the Republic to its most affluent metropolitan residential zone. The architectural fashion is different, but not alien. Not many of the buildings at home, in the royal capital, are as new as these estates, but the Republican taste for peaked roofs is something you have seen echoed in the renovations that sweep court society from time to time. And the influence seems to bleed the other way too. While most houses here boast the intricate metalwork fences so integral to Republican style, even those are built into solid stone foundations rising a few feet off the ground. And more than once you see the curving wall of a turret, a necessary feature of many Kingdom buildings built for defence and economy of space, but utterly pointless in this opulent district of manors and mansions. You see as many pointless arrow slit windows here, each amusingly covered in glass, as you have seen painfully impractical stained glass windows at home. What you are most surprised by, however, are the signs of conflict: barricades thrown up across entrance ways, shattered windows, bullet holes, and doors boarded shut. All defences haphazard, none of them structural. Any Kingdom manor would be able to survive a siege, while all these homeowners had were pieces of scrap and their own woefully inadequate ingenuity. The Dictator’s mansion, when you reach it, bears no battle scars. ](if: $4a is "True")[You see no signs of resistance, but still, Pruefer has his front line take up assault positions before declaring their intent to enter. There is no reply, and the ram is brought forward and the door bangs open, unlocked. From the back you wait as Pruefer moves in, appearing very soon after with a prisoner. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. Your Colonel brings her right to you, and you find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. “I believe her.” Pruefer says simply. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4b or $4c is "True")[(if: $3c is "True")[Or at least, you are told it didn’t. ]The shooting has already finished by the time you arrive and Major Pruefer is waiting for you with a prisoner. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. (if: $4c is "True")[Most notably, however, is that she has been shot: blood has soaked deep into her expensive looking suit from a bullet wound in her stomach. She will probably live. “I am sorry sir.” The Major says as he approaches you. “She was armed and...well… It’s my fault sir. I had ill prepared my men and one of them mistook her for an enemy combatant. She was armed, sir, hence the mistake. I am sorry, you do not need to hear the details. I will manage them. I present to you the Dictator of the Republic, sir.” The woman looks up at you with an effort, pain, fear and hatred all equally plain on her features. She wrenches her blood-stained hands away from her wound and holds them out to you, wrists together.](else:)[You find it difficult to believe her when, with shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. “I believe her.” Pruefer says simply.] [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]](else-if: $4d is "True")[You arrive to see a tableau army. The front lines wait in frozen readiness, their tight chests the only things moving, their legs locked ready to charge, their eyes sighting down their rifles. The lines behind stand to attention, listening and hoping. Only Major Pruefer moves, a slight, rhythmic shaking of his head as he sits stooped on his horse, staring down at the ground. Beside him a thin trail of smoke curls lazily towards the sky, visible at this distance only because of its animation. The Republican soldier, a strong looking woman, who is holding the lazily burning cigarette takes a drag on it, her eyes nonchalantly sliding over the line of soldiers waiting for the order to kill her. The stillness holds for a moment, broken first by the clatter of Colonel Bechthodt’s horse’s hooves against (if: $3a is "True")[a stone in the road](else:)[the cobbles of the road] and then by Major Pruefer looking quickly up, seeing not you, but the Colonel. Then he turns to the Republican and they speak briefly and shake hands. The woman returns to the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[manor] while your Major rides back to you. “Sir, I’ve made the decision. The Dictator is in there, surrounded by civilians. As commanding officer, I’ve decided I can’t-won’t, I won’t give the order to charge. It would be too detrimental to our efforts to hold the city. Sir. They want to discuss terms. That’s a political matter sir. I’ve agreed to a ceasefire until terms can be agreed. I...It’s a political matter. You’re the King’s representative. It isn’t my place…” Your Major looks you in the eyes for the first time. You excuse him and tell him that you will honour his word and talk with the Dictator. [[Tell her you will negotiate terms.]]](else-if: $4e is "True")[(if: ($1b is "True" and $2b is "True") or ($1b is "True" and $3a is "True"))[You have arrived, leading the flank, just in time to see the explosion. (if: $3a is "True")[Stone](else-if: $3b is "True")[Stone](else:)[Bricks] explodes out from the side of the structure, which creaks and moans but stays upright, a number of bodies following after, the maroon of their royal uniforms disappearing beneath the rubble, the same rubble that quickly muffles their screams. The front line breaks, colliding with the second line preparing to enter the breached main door of the building. There is chaos for a moment, the training of the second line meeting the panic of the first, but blind fear wins out and soon your entire army is surging back, the front line now a flank in full retreat, men pushing and falling over each other as sniper fire takes them down one by one. For a moment, a crucial moment, you stay frozen, waiting for Major Pruefer to take command of his men, but then, too late, you realise that he is nowhere to be seen. His men, the vanguard of your army, are running rudderless and terrified, their fear quickly seeping back through the ranks, the Kingdom’s first line routed mere moments after beginning their assault. Perhaps the Republicans have set up some stunning defence, but you are confident, no, completely and absolutely sure, that you could have pushed them back. But that thought does nothing to help you now as your entire army begins to ripple with fear and doubt. You fire into the air and roar at the top of your lungs: the words you say are irrelevant, it is the theatre that matters. You shout until your voice is hoarse, until your men are still and those few, no more than two or three, mad with the sight of their brothers in arms being ripped apart by fire and shrapnel and unmovable by any words are dealt with publicly but quietly by your Disciplinarians. Only then do you begin to give orders, pushing those you know can take it to the front, clearing the minds with thoughts of King and country and all that is waiting for them at home, and bolstering the flanks. Then shots hit those flanks. The division of Republican soldiers that attacks you from behind would not normally be a problem, a worthy opposition, but not a problem. But it does not take long before those hunkered down in the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion] go on the offensive, peppering what should have been your front line, but which is now your defensive flank, with sniper fire and pinning it in position. And so you begin to improvise, military tactics flowing from you in the way that comes naturally now, a gift refined over years of training and more years of experience. You read the movements of men, predict and react through your own machinery of war, the composer of the biological engine that is your army. Men die, and as they die, as you roar orders and grant commands, you calculate, a part of your mind always dedicated to the most crucial statistic of all: probability of success. Your hope bleeds away. You are not a gambling man, you never have been, and these numbers are not good. Good enough to win, but good enough to hold the city afterwards? Good enough to march north? Doubt. A panicked search for escape routes. Some fair, none good. The decision is not made for you, you need not take the opportunity but you know you are right when you grab it with both hands. Someone has climbed to the top of the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion] and is offering to make terms. You shout your acceptance and seconds later, many lives later, the shooting stops. “The Dictator will discuss terms!” You are told, and you agree. (link: "Negotiate terms")[(goto: "Tell her you will negotiate terms.")]](else:)[The siege has already begun. (if: $3a is "True")[The squat stone building has been hastily fortified, its few ground level windows well boarded up, the hinges of its large main doors clearly broken and locked in place.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The windows at ground level have been boarded up, and the barrels of rifles glint in the moonlight from positions too high above you to easily hit.](else:)[But it is unique in that it is the only building that is, currently, prepared for a siege. The spark of rifle rounds off the cobbled street tells you that there are snipers on the roof.] As you watch the door splinters beneath the force of the ram and Pruefer, giving one last unanswered chance to surrender, orders the charge. From the number of shots and screams, you judge that the fight is bloody. But it is also quick. However noble the last stand was, it is quickly clear that there were no more than a handful of defenders. Major Pruefer emerges, already mourning the losses he has taken, leading a small band of soldiers, a prisoner held tightly in their centre. She’s short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. Your Colonel brings her right to you, and you find it difficult to believe her when, with only slightly shaking confidence, she declares: “I am the Dictator. I am the person you have been looking for.” She holds her arms forward, her wrists together. “I believe her.” Pruefer says simply. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]](else:)[No sooner have you arrived than you hear a shout from the front, one of Pruefer’s men shouting to him, and then him turning to shout to you, panic making his eyes clearly wide, even from this distance. “She’s getting away! The Dictator is getting away, she’s escaping! That way, with two guards! They’re all on horses General! She’s getting away!” You waste no time, dismissing his waffle and shouting back: “I need your best horses. Now!” (if: $b3 or $b4 is "True")[The Major looks at you and starts shaking his head, a strand of saliva drooping unnoticed from his fear-twisted open mouth. “They’re dead sir! Or left behind! The cavalry charge sir, they didn’t make it! There are no fresh horses sir!” You curse and jump onto your own steed, one of only three, you realise, that you’ve seen since charging the front line. You know it is hopeless. Your horse is tired and even if it wasn’t, you are searching alone for three individuals, two of them armed, in a city that they know and you don’t. As it happens you do not even find them. If you had had the numbers it would have been trivial to spread out, possibly even create a cordon. But alone you are lost, and the Dictator is free. You return to your men, who have now dug in to defend against a sudden attack from the flank. You join them, although you tiredness and despondency mean you allow Colonel Bechtholdt to retake the lead, wiping away the opposition with minimal casualties on your side. After that, it is a trivial matter to occupy the city. Occupy, but not conquer. Eventually you have the Senate, who now seem to answer to their minister of war, whom Colonel Bechtholdt was restrained enough to capture rather than kill, ratify a document surrendering the city to you. But the Republic as a whole, they insist, remains under the control of the Dictator. And so Alexisgrad fell. But the war goes on.](else:)[Pruefer does not hesitate. He pushes his cavalry forward and you lead the way, ordering them to fan out and create a cordon as you do so. It does not take long, you racing down an alleyway beside one of Major Pruefer’s elite, before you hear the signal, three shots in sequence over the quiet city, three shots to the rhythm of the opening of the King’s anthem. You ride back more slowly, savouring the moment. The Dictator is already there when you arrive, standing untouched between Pruefer and a dismounted cavalryman. She is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained, but obviously difficult to control, curly hair. She does not look anything like what you’d imagined the Dictator would look like, although you had been having difficulties imagining the Dictator as a woman at all, but from the way she holds herself, she is clearly the person you are looking for. She stares at you with defiant eyes, their over-magnification betraying the way they quiver wetly with fear. Without saying a word she puts her arms forward, wrists together, ready to submit. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]]

(set: $e2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''e2'' [[And so it continues.]]]

(set: $e1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''e1'' [[Have it over and done with.]]]

(set: $d4 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''d4'' [[Slaughter.]]]

(set: $d5 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''d5'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"4g")[(set: $4g = "True")(goto: "Await a responce")] (link:"10a")[(set: $10a = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")] (link:"10b")[(set: $10b = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")] (link:"10c")[(set: $10c = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")] (link:"10d")[(set: $10d = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")] (link:"10e")[(set: $10e = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")] (link:"10f")[(set: $10f = "True")(goto: "Hear terms")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"e1")[(set: $e1 = "True")(goto: "What will be will be")] (link:"e2")[(set: $e2 = "True")(goto: "What will be will be")]]

(set: $10a = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10a'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $10b = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10b'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $10c = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10c'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $10d = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10d'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $10e = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10e'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $10f = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10f'' [[Take a deep breath, the decision has been made.]]]

(set: $4g = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''4g'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"d4")[(set: $d4 = "True")(goto: "Wait for decision")] (link:"d5")[(set: $d5 = "True")(goto: "Wait for decision")]]

(if: $d4 or $t3 is "True")[There is a shot. Eyes fly in every direction, looking to see who went down, who tried to run but didn’t make it. “No-one here’s dead, no-one here’s dead!” you hear someone scream. One of your soldiers has begun to cry, another falls to his knees and begins to pray, for his life and for forgiveness. You feel it creeping up your spine and closing over your mind. Fear, grief, panic. No-one here is dead. The shot came from outside. A moment later and there is the crash as a ram bursts against the door. It clatters several feet across the floor while one of its hinges flies through the air to collide with someone’s skull. There are too many screams for you to know which one was his. The firing has already started. (if: $3a is "True")[A group of workers, people who have stared the monstrosities of the industrial age in the eye, who have spent years of their lives pushing their bodies and minds beyond the limits of what any society should accept, die in the first seconds. Someone at the back cries ‘Fuck this, follow me!’ and makes it the first few steps towards the back exit before one of your soldiers puts a bullet through her skull. Still, others follow her lead and your wall of meat falls apart, one half running away, the other half running to, the sheer mass of muscle pushing itself to the King’s front line and hitting out with hammers and bottles and fists. Your guards shout and curse, ignored by everyone but those few they manage to shoot and kill.](else-if: $3b is "True")[A group of cleaners, pushed to the edge of the mass of bureaucrats and business owners, die in the first seconds, their crisp white clothes stained forever with their blood. The sea around you starts to roil, those with their senses pushing desperately back, trying to get behind you, while those many who are in shock stand like breakers against the waves. Some young people flow the opposite way, holding their fists up and declaring that they are ‘for the Republic!’. Some even manage to reach the King’s front line, but having made it that far they seem to not know what to do, and die without taking a single soldier with them.] One of your soldiers violently shoves you off the box you had been standing on, pitching you into the small island of tranquillity, the only point of the floor that isn’t covered by running feet or bleeding bodies. All you can see are your guards and blurred motion between them, but you can still hear the screams and the gunshots. The former are constant and from all directions, but the latter are getting closer. The feeling has sunk its claws in now, and time ceases to make any sense. Your thoughts stretch, run in circles and die. Your nature takes over and you stand up to run, but the world is not what it used to be, gravity pulls in different directions and you fall. A hand reaches to pick you up, but just as suddenly thrusts you down again. You hear a roar of rage, a gunshot so close to your ear you can feel it. Something heavy falls onto your leg. The force next to you rolls, shouts words you cannot understand, and then crunches. Something presses into you and you howl with pain, something warm splashes onto your face and again hands are on you, pulling you up against bodies pressing so tight against you that you can no longer fall, even though your legs shake. The echo of shots vibrate through the bodies pressed against you. “I’m sorry Dictator. I’m so sorry.” The lieutenant voice is the only one you’ve picked out, his face the only one turned to yours. He breaks eye contact the moment you have it, and you watch as he takes half a step forward. He does something with his arms, and as the woman to your left collapses as something shining appears through his tight brown uniform. Another soldier jumps in the way, and for a moment all you can see is red. Another, screaming rage and patriotism, tries to take the last woman’s place. Force pushes you forward and back, a rib screaming but holding as something runs down the lens of one of your glasses. A shot, and the soldier falls dead at your feet. You see her face, a dark hole just above her left eye. She blinks as she twitches, and a second shot opens her skull and finishes her. Another dark hole meets you when you look up. “Dictator?” The Royalist soldier is moments away from firing, but all you can do is stare. You hear him cock the pistol. “Dictator?” You open your mouth and spit comes out, a string of it bouncing up and down as you nod. The gun barrel. The gun barrel does not move. [[Stare into the barrel]]](else:)[The door opens. There is a ripple through the crowd, a hundred bodies all trying to move in the same direction at once. There is the potential for a stampede, a crush through the back doors, but the wave calms when all glance around to see only the veteran in her Republic brown standing in the starlit entrance. “Dictator, they will discuss terms.” There is a pause. “So what do you say?” [[If they leave now, we will let them live.]] [[We will agree to make economic concessions to the Kingdom, but we will give up no freedoms.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a quarter of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a third of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] [[We surrender on the condition that no more former Republican citizens are killed.]] [[We surrender, but in return for a position for me at court.]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"e1")[(set: $e1 = "True")(goto: "Look into the pit")] (link:"e3")[(set: $e3 = "True")(goto: "Look into the pit")]]

The woman lets out a long breath and turns back into building. Your army shifts uneasily, unclear of what is happening and what they should feel. In the distance you hear the unmistakable sound of Bechtholdt and Pruefer arguing, but one or other of them cuts it off after just a few words. (link: "Continue to wait.")[(goto: "Tell her you will negotiate terms.")]

You do not have to wait for long. Whatever powers this Dictator has been given, they are broad. This is her decision, and hers alone. One of her soldiers shouts her decision, a look of worry on her face. “The Dictator (if: $10a is "True")[offers you the chance to leave the Republic unmolested.” You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he scoffs. “It’s an insult general. Give the order and the Republic will be ours. Trust me on this.”](else-if: $10b is "True")[will agree to becoming a tributary to the Kingdom. We will pay tribute, but we refuse to give up our freedoms or autonomy.” You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he scoffs. “It’s not good enough general. Give the order and the Republic will be ours. Trust me on this.”](else-if: $10c is "True")[will agree to the vassalisation of the Republic. We will subordinate our military to your command and allow the King to select a quarter of all senators.” You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he scoffs. “A quarter isn’t enough sir, it’s just enough to drive them all into one voting block against us, it will do nothing but strengthen their independence. She offers us nothing. Give the order and we’ll take the Republic by force.”](else-if: $10d is "True")[will agree to the vassalisation of the Republic. We will subordinate our military to your command and allow the King to select a third of all senators.” You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ noise. “A third would, practically, probably be enough, as long as our men were kept in line. But the King won’t like it sir.”](else-if: $10e is "True")[will surrender on the single condition that no, erm, former Republican citizens are killed in reparation.” You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he lets out a satisfied ‘hmph’. “//I// can control my men enough for that sir.”](else-if: $10f is "True")[will surrender if...if she is given a position at court.” The messenger fails to keep the disgust out of her voice. You had not noticed Colonel Bechtholdt arriving at your side, but you notice him now as he lets out a laugh. “Their former Dictator, leaving them in the dirt to become a lady of the royal court? I cannot think of a better boon for us sir.”] [[We accept.]] [[We reject the offer and will give the Dictator one more chance to provide more beneficial terms.]] [[Reject the offer and order an engagement.]]

(set: $t1 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''t1'' [[Take the first step towards peace.]]]

(set: $t2 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''t2'' [[Wait.]]]

(set: $t3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''t3'' (if: $4e is "True")[[Continue the battle]]](else:)[[[Slaughter.]]]

(if: $10a is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt turns to you, contempt burning in his eyes. “You’re a fool. The Republic was ours, and you just let it go for nothing. I won’t mutiny. That is below me. But the King //will// hear about this.” The last sentence is said as a fact, Bechtholdt purposely keeping all malice out of his tone. It is not a threat. One way or another, the King will hear about this. And when he does, keeping your position will be the least of your concerns. But that is a battle for another day. Today your hands are clean of blood, and though they jeer and curse, your men do follow you as you turn back towards the south, leaving the Republic, and your honour, behind you.](else-if: $10b is "True")[Colonel Bechthold shakes his head. “You’re a fool. The Republic was ours, but you would rather skulk away with a bribe in your pocket than get your hands dirty. The King will not be pleased about this. We were sent to take the Republic, not ask it for a hand out. Maybe you will be more understanding of your mistake serving as a frontline foot soldier when I lead us back north.” Bechtholdt does not give you a chance to respond, riding quickly away, but there was not much you could have said. The King will hear about this and he will not be pleased. That is a fact. But it is also a battle for another time. Today your hands are clean of blood, and though they shake their heads and mumble, your men do follow you as you turn back towards the south, leaving the Republic, and your credibility as a general in the King’s army, behind you.](else-if: $10c is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt sighs. “It’s not good enough. There will be those at court who will not realise, and I am sure that for now you’ll be able to paint this as a victory to the troops, but sooner or later, it will become clear. And when it does, the King will be displeased. It will be politically difficult to take a country we already supposedly control, especially one whose military is subordinated to ours. Nothing good will come of this.” You don’t know how to respond, so Bechtholdt just lets out a little sound of disapproval and rides away. He is unlikely to be wrong. He will never be as good as you on a battlefield, but the army has few who are better at manoeuvring at court. But if there are battles ahead, few of them will be yours. The troops seem confused as you order them to make camp, at least until more permanent accommodation can be found in this ghost city. Some are clearly overjoyed: they have their lives and the Kingdom has the Republic, at least in some way. Others see their Colonel’s face and know that this is not over. But most simply do not know what to think, politics never their concern. Those are the ones you will have to work on, those are the ones who must be convinced that this is a victory. But that can happen later, even if you can see that Bechtholdt has already got to work. For now your hands are clean of blood and you have a long process of political integration ahead of you.](else-if: $10d is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt nods slowly. “A difficult decision, but I think probably the right one. A third is enough that either the Republicans will be forced into one single voting block, which we can control with feints and counter intelligence, or they will continue their usual anarchic squabbling, in which case one third //should// be enough to carry whatever we want to carry.” Your Colonel smiles thinly at you, annoyance in his eyes, and then rides away. Some of your men begin to cheer, but only some. Most seem relieved, some just confused. You are surprised by Bechtholdt’s positivity, but you trust him so far as his estimation of the politics goes. He will never be as good as you on a battlefield, but the army has few who are better at manoeuvring at court. Still, you are sure there will be battles ahead, but they will not, you think, be fought by you. You know how to set up what needs to be set up, the difficult bit will come when courtiers start flooding north to fill the Senate seats that you have won for them. But that is another day. For now you must focus on the refreshingly mundane tasks of setting up a camp, and then maybe some champagne can be requisitioned.](else-if: $10e is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt claps daintily as the army around you erupts in cheers. “We have done what generations of our fathers have failed to do. When the sun rises again, it will rise on a Kingdom restored to the glory it deserves and that will be because of us.” He smiles and looks around, allowing himself a brief moment of pause and sentimentality. Then, of course, he ruins it by yelling “No looting, no killing, no raping!” at the top of his voice and riding off to make sure that the terms of your agreement with the Dictator are met. You order every third soldier to hand in his weapon, knowing that the Colonel is right about the instincts of victorious soldiers, and then allow yourself to look at your surroundings as a city, rather than as a situation. It’s beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. Tomorrow there will be questions of resupply, disarmament of rebels and of how to control the outlying territories. But today, today the city is yours. You have never felt so pleased.](else-if: $10f is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt is still laughing as you agree to the Dictator’s terms, and his laughter quickly spreads as the rest of your army realises what is happening. The Dictator of the Republic, the last hope of the nation that holds itself up as the bastion of liberty and equal rights, just sold her entire country out for an unspecified title. Of course she will be given a grand one. Possibly Marquess of the North, depending on her loyalty. It would be good to keep her close to her home, as a reminder to her former people of the fragility of their former system. But that decision, and the many, many others that you will have to make, can wait till tomorrow. Today the city is yours. And it is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. You have never felt more pleased.]

(if: $10a or $10b is "True")[The veteran bites her lip and shakes her head slightly, but turns and delivers your demands to the King’s army.](else-if: $10f is "True")[The woman shakes her head and spits at the ground towards you, but delivers your terms nonetheless.](else:)[The woman turns and delivers your terms.] [[Wait for an answer.]]

(set: $10z = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10z'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"t1")[(set: $t1 = "True")(goto: "Get an answer")] (link:"t2")[(set: $t2 = "True")(goto: "Get an answer")] (link:"t3")[(set: $t3 = "True")(if: $4d is "True")[(goto: "Wait for decision")](else:)[(goto: "Get an answer")]]]

(if: $t1 is "True")[There is a pause, then the sound of shouting, muffled from inside. The veteran turns back to you, her hands shaking and her eyes wide. “They accept.” Everyone turns to you. (if: $10a is "True")[“I can’t believe it,” someone says, “it’s too good to be true!” But it isn’t. Soon the sound of marching begins again, but this time it becomes quieter rather than louder, the footfalls of the King’s soldier’s disappearing as they move into the south. There is a small explosion. Everyone dives for the ground, but when you turn to see who has been shot, you see only a soldier, grinning mischievously and holding an open bottle of champagne. A laugh ripples around the room, and as you get to your feet two words start to circle around the room, their reality building with each repetition. “We won.”](else-if: $10b is "True")[“It’s just a bit of money, isn’t it?” someone says. Someone else confirms it. The first man begins to laugh. “She paid them off. The fools let us live and keep it all just for a bit of money!” Soon the laughter has spread, men and women who had thought they were about to die suddenly nothing worse than a little bit poorer. There is a moment of tension when the King’s army appears to regroup, but it breaks the instant that they turn south and begin to leave the city. Two words start to circle around the room, their reality building with each repetition. “We won.”](else-if: $10c is "True")[“We get to live?” one scared looking soldier says. Another one nods, and the first begins to cry. Another, slightly more composed, pats you on the shoulder. “Thank you Dictator. It was the right thing. A quarter of the Senate, I mean you’ll know but that’s not too much. We can deal with that. We’ll still be free.” She smiles and you smile back. You have not escaped unscathed. There will be many battles still to fight, but these battles will be on the Senate floor, and those are the kinds of battles you were born to fight. And so the Republic lived, more or less free.](else-if: $10d is "True")[We get to live?” one scared looking soldier says. Another one nods, and the first begins to cry. Another, slightly more composed, bites her lip. “It will be the right thing Dictator, but it will be hard. We’ve done our part, now you do yours. "Keep the Republic free.” You nod. There will be many battles still to fight, but these battles will be on the Senate floor, and those are the kinds of battles you were born to fight. And so the Republic lived, but whether it lived free was yet to be seen.](else-if: $10e is "True")[“We get to live, we get to live!” someone shouts, but not everyone is so joyous. “So all of this,” one soldier says, “all of this was for nothing?” “I didn’t fight the bourgeois to surrender to the Kingdom.” another one says, and is immediately countered by- “And I didn’t fight for the Republic to put up with proles like you in my division.” The two almost come to blows, but the veteran steps in to stop them. “Oh stop it. There’s no point fucking fighting any more. You. The revolution is dead. And you. The Republic is dead. Now get out there and keep your fucking heads down if you want to keep them.” The two scowl at each other, and then at her, and then at you. “You did the right thing.” one person says, as another spits on the ground at your feet. And then the doors of (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home] open, and your new rulers walk in to inspect their latest subjects. And like that, the Republic died.](else-if: $10f is "True")[One of your soldiers raises a gun towards you, screaming at you for betraying them. Another grabs the gun away, saying that the first will only make the situation worse. A third takes the middle path and punches you. You go down hard and can suddenly only see feet. A gun goes off above your head, but you hear no screams and feel no pain. You hear only one voice, thin and distant, defending you and your choice. The rest merely bicker over the best way to deal with the traitor lying at their feet. The door to (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home] bangs open. There is a scramble above you, and then a short burst of shots. You push yourself to your feet to see a huge man bearing down towards you. “You are the Dictator?” he asks. You nod. “Good. Then please come with me. My lady.” And with those words, the Republic died.]](else-if: $t2 is "True" and $t3 is not "True")[There is a pause, then the sound of shouting, muffled from inside. The veteran turns back to you, her face sweating. “They reject. They say they will hear you out once more. Do you have another offer?” [[No. My last offer was final.]] (if: $10a is not "True")[[Okay, if they leave now, we will let them live.]] (if: $10b is not "True")[[Okay, we will agree to make economic concessions to the Kingdom, but we will give up no freedoms.]] (if: $10c is not "True")[[Okay, we are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a quarter of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] (if: $10d is not "True")[[Okay, we are willing to become a vassal state, as I believe the empire calls them. The King may select a third of the Senate and our military will be at his disposal.]] (if: $10e is not "True")[[Okay, we surrender on the condition that no more former Republican citizens are killed.]] (if: $10f is not "True")[[Okay, we surrender, but in return for a position for me at court.]]](else-if: $t3 is "True")[(if: $4d is "True")[SOMETHING GONE MESSED UP HERE...](else-if: $4e is "True")[Your offer is answered by gunshots. Your guards never left their posts and the soldiers waiting outside were clearly expecting this, but you cannot help but feel that you have failed. You had one chance, a chance to do what you do best, to use words to bring people together, to get your way and to make the world a better place. And now the killing has started again. Your guards do not stop firing, fighting back like a cornered cat, fighting for their values, their home and their lives. But you know it is over. It must be over. You have eyes, you can see the numbers that are arrayed against you. You know that this is the end of the Republic. (if:($a1 or $a2 is "True") and $c1 is "True" and $2b is "True")[And yet, you are wrong. You do not know how it happens. Later, when prisoners are taken and testimonies are pieced together, you will be presented with the suggestion that a large part of it was simply a breaking of enemy morale. Or at least, that is the part of the report that you take away. You hope it is that. Although, of course, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that, as you sit, staring at the ceiling and thinking of all that is about to be lost, you hear a shout. “I think that was their general!” A moment later and the shouts from outside confirm it. One of the guards whom you picked up at the Senate just shot the King’s general. And as you look up, you see what this means. The determination etched onto the faces of your soldiers has, unnoticed by you, drained away in the last few minutes, replaced by wide eyed desperate hope. Your heart flips, as much by the turn of events as the fact that you had been so lost in your own thoughts that you had not noticed everything change around you. ‘We’re going to win!’ you feel yourself think, and just before you can crush it a voice cuts through the screams, the dead general’s second already issuing a command. The single word ‘retreat’. You begin to cry. You are not the only one. As the enemy moves out of range some of your soldiers simply drop their guns and fall to the ground, some simply stand frozen and dumbfounded, while a few rush out of the building, determined to harass the enemy as far south as their legs can take them. But what happens now? The royalists will be back. The majority of their army retreated. Plans must be made, defences erected, and, no doubt, political battles fought. But now, right now, you are alive. And so you order the industrial stores opened, and a round of vodka poured.](else:)[You look away. There is no question of not watching. You cannot bear the hope that would come with each small victory, nor the percussive pain of each defeat. And you cannot see the deaths. And so you try to think of all the good the Republic has done, all the generations of people who lived free and happy, trying to find solace in the past while the present crumbles around you. But of course, people only care about yesterday while it is today, and tomorrow is always coming. You do not weep for what is about to be lost. Perhaps it is undignified, perhaps you are too drained, maybe just too numb. It takes you some time to realise that the meditative beat of your guards’ gunshots have stopped. Your heart pounds up towards your throat and you look up, hope flooding past all of your safeguards. But they have not left their positions, and their faces are still set with determination. Only the young lieutenant notices you. “They’ve dug in in the streets,” he explains, “outside of our range.” He does not tell you what this means. From his eyes, you guess that is because he does not know. It’s as much out of his hands now as it is out of yours, and that loss does not sit well with him. You wait in silence, and you wait a long time. Gradually the rate of fire in the distance grows less and less. It is coming to an end, but what //it// is is a tantalising unknown. Then they appear. Ragged and tired, their maroon uniforms a darker shade of red, the soldiers come out of the streets. Your guards start firing again, throwing pebbles at a tidal wave. After the wait, the inevitable happens quickly. Many die, but soon you are alone again, your guards all dead at your feet. Not one tried to run. A tall man, his victorious sneer not quite hidden beneath his shining, oiled moustache orders you pulled out of (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home]. You are marched past the King’s army, their raggedness and weakness irrelevant now that there is no army to face them, and are presented, alongside the body of a dead royalist officer, to a giant of a man. The man with the moustache speaks to his general, presenting you like a prize buck. You have already decided what to do. You hold up your hands, wrists together. If this is the end, then you want to be remembered as dying with dignity. [[Accept your fate.]]]]]

(set: $10aa = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10aa'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10bb = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10bb'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10cc = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10cc'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10dd = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10dd'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10ee = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10ee'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10ff = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10ff'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

(set: $10g = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''10g'' [[There is no going back now.]]]

[[Only seconds have passed, but standing on the knife's edge between war and peace every moment stretches.]]

[[Only seconds have passed, but standing on the knife's edge between peace and war every moment stretches.]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"10g")[(set: $10g = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10aa")[(set: $10aa = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10bb")[(set: $10bb = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10cc")[(set: $10cc = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10dd")[(set: $10dd = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10ee")[(set: $10ee = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")] (link:"10ff")[(set: $10ff = "True")(goto: "Hear terms again")]]

Again, the woman returns. “The Dictator (if: $10aa is "True")[offers you the chance to leave the Republic unmolested.” Colonel Bechtholdt scoffs. “It’s an insult general. Give the order and the Republic will be ours. Trust me on this.”](else-if: $10bb is "True")[will agree to becoming a tributary to the Kingdom. We will pay tribute, but we refuse to give up our freedoms or autonomy.” Colonel Bechtholdt scoffs. “It’s not good enough general. Give the order and the Republic will be ours. Trust me on this.”](else-if: $10cc is "True")[will agree to the vassalisation of the Republic. We will subordinate our military to your command and allow the King to select a quarter of all senators.” Colonel Bechtholdt scoffs. “A quarter isn’t enough sir, It’s just enough to drive them all into one voting block against us, it will do nothing but strengthen their independence. She offers us nothing. Give the order and we’ll take the Republic by force.”](else-if: $10dd is "True")[will agree to the vassalisation of the Republic. We will subordinate our military to your command and allow the King to select a third of all senators.” Colonel Bechtholdt lets out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ noise. “A third would, practically, probably be enough, as long as our men were kept in line. But the King won’t like it sir.”](else-if: $10ee is "True")[will surrender on the single condition that no, erm, former Republican citizens are killed in reparation.” Colonel Bechtholdt lets out a satisfied ‘hmph’. “//I// can control my men enough for that sir.”](else-if: $10ff is "True")[will surrender if...if she is given a position at court.” The messenger fails to keep the disgust out of her voice. Colonel Bechtholdt lets out a laugh. “Their former Dictator, leaving them in the dirt to become a lady of the royal court? I cannot think of a better boon for us sir.”](if: $10g is not "True")[ (link: "We accept.")[(goto: "Accept new terms")] [[Reject the offer and order an engagement.]]](else:)[restates her offer. It is the best you are going to get. Colonel Bechthold laughs. “That makes the decision easy. Give the order now general. Let us end this.” (link: "Accept her previous terms.")[(goto: "We accept")] [[Reject the offer and order an engagement.]]]

(set: $t4 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''t4''] [[It is done.]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"t1")[(set: $t1 = "True")(goto: "Get an answer")] (link:"t3")[(set: $t3 = "True")(if: $4d is "True")[(goto: "Wait for decision")](else:)[(goto: "Get an answer")]] (link:"t4")[(set: $t4 = "True")(goto: "Get an answer again")]]

(if: $10aa is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt turns to you, contempt burning in his eyes. “You’re a fool. The Republic was ours, and you just let it go for nothing. I won’t mutiny. That is below me. But the King will hear about this.” The last sentence is said as a fact, Bechtholdt purposely keeping all malice out of his tone. It is not a threat. One way or another, the King will hear about this. And when he does, keeping your position will be the least of your concerns. But that is a battle for another day. Today your hands are clean of blood, and though they jeer and curse, your men do follow you as you turn back towards the south, leaving the Republic, and your honour, behind you.](else-if: $10bb is "True")[Colonel Bechthold shakes his head. “You’re a fool. The Republic was ours, but you would rather skulk away with a bribe in your pocket than get your hands dirty. The King will not be pleased about this. We were sent to take the Republic, not ask it for a hand out. Maybe you will be more understanding of your mistake serving as a frontline foot soldier when I lead us back north.” Bechtholdt does not give you a chance to respond, riding quickly away, but there was not much you could have said. The King will hear about this and he will not be pleased. That is a fact. But it is also a battle for another time. Today your hands are clean of blood, and though they shake their heads and mumble, your men do follow you as you turn back towards the south, leaving the Republic, and your credibility as a general in the King’s army, behind you.](else-if: $10cc is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt sighs. “It’s not good enough. There will be those at court who will not realise, and I am sure that for now you’ll be able to paint this as a victory to the troops, but sooner or later, it will become clear. And when it does, the King will be displeased. It will be politically difficult to take a country we already supposedly control, especially one whose military is subordinated to ours. Nothing good will come of this.” You don’t know how to respond, so Bechtholdt just lets out a little sound of disapproval and rides away. He is unlikely to be wrong. He will never be as good as you on a battlefield, but the army has few who are better at manoeuvring at court. But if there are battles ahead, few of them will be yours. The troops seem confused as you order them to make camp, at least until more permanent accommodation can be found in this ghost city. Some are clearly overjoyed: they have their lives and the Kingdom has the Republic, at least in some way. Others see their Colonel’s face and know that this is not over. But most simply do not know what to think, politics never their concern. Those are the ones you will have to work on, those are the ones who must be convinced that this is a victory. But that can happen later, even if you can see that Bechtholdt has already got to work. For now your hands are clean of blood and you have a long process of political integration ahead of you.](else-if: $10dd is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt nods slowly. “A difficult decision, but I think probably the right one. A third is enough that either the Republicans will be forced into one single voting block, which we can control with feints and counter intelligence, or they will continue their usual anarchic squabbling, in which case one third should be enough to carry whatever we want to carry.” Your Colonel smiles thinly at you, annoyance in his eyes, and then rides away. Some of your men begin to cheer, but only some. Most seem relieved, some just confused. You are surprised by Bechtholdt’s positivity, but you trust him so far as his estimation of the politics goes. He will never be as good as you on a battlefield, but the army has few who are better at manoeuvring at court. Still, you are sure there will be battles ahead, but they will not, you think, be fought by you. You know how to set up what needs to be set up, the difficult bit will come when courtiers start flooding north to fill the Senate seats that you have won for them. But that is another day. For now you must focus on the refreshingly mundane tasks of setting up a camp, and then maybe some champagne can be requisitioned.](else-if: $10ee is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt claps daintily as the army around you erupts in cheers. “We have done what generations of our fathers have failed to do. When the sun rises again, it will rise on a Kingdom restored to the glory it deserves and that will be because of us.” He smiles and looks around, allowing himself a brief moment of pause and sentimentality. Then, of course, he ruins it by yelling “No looting, no killing, no raping!” at the top of his voice and riding off to make sure that the terms of your agreement with the Dictator are met. You order every third soldier to hand in his weapon, knowing that the Colonel is right about the instincts of victorious soldiers, and then allow yourself to look at your surroundings as a city, rather than as a situation. It’s beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. Tomorrow there will be questions of resupply, disarmament of rebels and of how to control the outlying territories. But today, today the city is yours. You have never felt so pleased.](else-if: $10ff is "True")[Colonel Bechtholdt is still laughing as you agree to the Dictator’s terms, and his laughter quickly spreads as the rest of your army realises what is happening. The Dictator of the Republic, the last hope of the nation that holds itself up as the bastion of liberty and equal rights, just sold her entire country out for an unspecified title. Of course she will be given a grand one. Possibly Marquess of the North, depending on her loyalty. It would be good to keep her close to her home, as a reminder to her former people of the fragility of their former system. But that decision, and the many, many others that you will have to make, can wait till tomorrow. Today the city is yours. And it is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. You have never felt more pleased.]

There is a pause, then the sound of shouting, muffled from inside. The veteran turns back to you, her hands shaking and her eyes wide. “They accept.” Everyone turns to you. (if: $10aa is "True")[“I can’t believe it,” someone says, “it’s too good to be true!” But it isn’t. Soon the sound of marching begins again, but this time it becomes quieter rather than louder, the footfalls of the King’s soldier’s disappearing as they move into the south. There is a small explosion. Everyone dives for the ground, but when you turn to see who has been shot, you see only a soldier, grinning mischievously and holding an open bottle of champagne. A laugh ripples around the room, and as you get to your feet two words start to circle around the room, their reality building with each repetition. “We won.”](else-if: $10bb is "True")[“It’s just a bit of money, isn’t it?” someone says. Someone else confirms it. The first man begins to laugh. “She paid them off. The fools let us live and keep it all just for a bit of money!” Soon the laughter has spread, men and women who had thought they were about to die suddenly nothing worse than a little bit poorer. There is a moment of tension when the King’s army appears to regroup, but it breaks the instant that they turn south and begin to leave the city. Two words start to circle around the room, their reality building with each repetition. “We won.”](else-if: $10cc is "True")[“We get to live?” one scared looking soldier says. Another one nods, and the first begins to cry. Another, slightly more composed, pats you on the shoulder. “Thank you Dictator. It was the right thing. A quarter of the Senate, I mean you’ll know but that’s not too much. We can deal with that. We’ll still be free.” She smiles and you smile back. You have not escaped unscathed. There will be many battles still to fight, but these battles will be on the Senate floor, and those are the kinds of battles you were born to fight. And so the Republic lived, more or less free.](else-if: $10dd is "True")[We get to live?” one scared looking soldier says. Another one nods, and the first begins to cry. Another, slightly more composed, bites her lip. “It will be the right thing Dictator, but it will be hard. We’ve done our part, now you do yours. "Keep the Republic free.” You nod. There will be many battles still to fight, but these battles will be on the Senate floor, and those are the kinds of battles you were born to fight. And so the Republic lived, but whether it lived free was yet to be seen.](else-if: $10ee is "True")[“We get to live, we get to live!” someone shouts, but not everyone is so joyous. “So all of this,” one soldier says, “all of this was for nothing?” “I didn’t fight the bourgeois to surrender to the Kingdom.” another one says, and is immediately countered by- “And I didn’t fight for the Republic to put up with proles like you in my division.” The two almost come to blows, but the veteran steps in to stop them. “Oh stop it. There’s no point fucking fighting any more. You. The revolution is dead. And you. The Republic is dead. Now get out there and keep your fucking heads down if you want to keep them.” The two scowl at each other, and then at her, and then at you. “You did the right thing.” one person says, as another spits on the ground at your feet. And then the doors of (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home] open, and your new rulers walk in to inspect their latest subjects. And like that, the Republic died.](else-if: $10ff is "True")[One of your soldiers raises a gun towards you, screaming at you for betraying them. Another grabs the gun away, saying that the first will only make the situation worse. A third takes the middle path and punches you. You go down hard and can suddenly only see feet. A gun goes off above your head, but you hear no screams and feel no pain. You hear only one voice, thin and distant, defending you and your choice. The rest merely bicker over the best way to deal with the traitor lying at their feet. The door to (if: $3a is "True")[the warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[the cathedral](else:)[your home] bangs open. There is a scramble above you, and then a short burst of shots. You push yourself to your feet to see a huge man bearing down towards you. “You are the Dictator?” he asks. You nod. “Good. Then please come with me. My lady.” And with those words, the Republic died.]

The messenger goes down with one shot and you hastily select your squad, choosing on the basis of loyalty and physical proximity. If you had more time, you would have selected those who had proved themselves over several campaigns, those who know what war is and what has to be done, those whose loyalty to the crown comes well before personal ethics. But you do not have time, so knowing that some will falter and some may try to go too far, you pick your men and begin the assault. You force yourself to be aware of everything. Part of that is respect, part of it is responsibility. You feel anger when the door shatters in one strike of the ram, likely not even locked, certainly not barricaded. They were so busy creating their human shield that they did not even have the time to lock the door. You had not thought it was a bluff, but nonetheless you are still disappointed to see that it wasn’t. The woman spoke the truth; about a hundred people are crammed into the centre of the space. A handful of soldiers stand on boxes in the centre, an effective marker of the location of the Dictator, but their attention is split between you and making sure that their shield does not simply desert them. (if: $3a is "True")[Many try.](else-if: $3b is "True")[Some try.] Each one is a Republican bullet not sent towards you and your men. (if: $3a is "True")[The citizens are workers, the brothers and sisters and wives and husbands of the people who harassed you on your march here. True, some cower and weep, but many surge towards you, armed with nothing but industrial tools and broken bottles. They brawl well, and while you quickly dispatch the one who reaches you, some others manage to grab your soldiers’ guns and let off a few shots before they are put down. For a brief moment it all feels like a contest, a battle, but then you push past the first line and it all devolves into what it really is.](else-if: $3b is "True")[The citizens are clerks, bureaucrats and servants. The soft-handed bourgeois that the Republic’s politicians and agitators love to talk about. True, some of them rush forward in a naive attempt to fight back, only a few actually reaching your men and then ineffectually flailing until they are put down, but none do anything that could distract you from what this is.] A slaughter. It does not take long before it is difficult to walk, the blood running in rivulets around the bodies. The soldiers in the centre die quickly, several jumping in between your men and a short and slightly stocky woman wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained but obviously difficult to control curly hair. They die one by one, and soon she is alone, one of your soldiers pointing a rifle into her face. For a brief moment you are worried that the task has fallen to one of those men who will leave this building with a grin on his face. But no, he demands she identify herself, and she says she is who you already knew her to be. The soldier shouts out, not willing to break eye contact with the prisoner. The question quickly arrives with you. [[Have her shot.]] [[Arrest her.]]

It was not an easy decision to make. Hundreds of good, strong, loyal soldiers for the King will die. But that is what both you and they had expected. And you are confident that their deaths will not be in vain. (if:($a1 or $a2 is "True") and $c1 is "True" and $2b is "True")[You live just long enough to see that you are wrong. Your men are tired, disorientated and, you realise as everything begins to fall apart, unmotivated. Lines collapse when they should have held. Your orders for bolder strategies get lost down the chain of command. The Dictator’s hiding spot remains impenetrable, its snipers dealing little damage in terms of numbers, but a great deal in terms of morale. The Republicans press their home advantage, hitting and running through streets that are unknown to your men but the familiar landscape of home to your enemy. Ghosts to your front, an unbreakable rock at your flank. Your troops are too entrenched to retreat easily, stuck like a bug in tree sap, the only choice between death and a desperate limb-ripping flight. Fear and rage boil up within you, the dark knowledge that you made a mistake, that the deaths of hundreds of soldiers and the failure of the King’s northern campaign rest on your shoulders. All around you the men falter, their spirits broken even if their bodies remain whole. So you grab those nearest to you and order a charge. //If// the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion] can be taken, and //if// the Dictator can be captured, then //maybe// her head will be able to turn the psychological tide, and //if// that happens, there is a //chance// that the battle will follow. Perhaps it is kind that god makes you fail at the first ‘if’. Your strategy was not poor, you had the best odds that the situation would allow, but the situation allowed no good odds. You see the woman who shoots you. She isn’t even wearing an army uniform, she looks more like a ceremonial guard. Her rifle, however, is quite real, as is the bullet that finds you skull. There is a ripple of shock as you fall from your horse, your mind slowing down as everything rapidly begins to disintegrate. Most of the calls simply state that you have been shot, that you are down, that you are dead. But the last thing you hear, before it all ends for all time, is Colonel Bechtholdt’s voice, rising strong against the untangling din of war, ordering the retreat.](else:)[It does not take long before signs that you might be wrong start to appear. The Dictator’s hiding spot remains impenetrable, its snipers dealing little damage in terms of numbers, but a great deal in terms of morale. The Republicans press their home advantage, hitting and running through streets that are unknown to your men but the familiar landscape of home to your enemy. But eventually, the most ancient rule of war wins out. The side with the biggest numbers usually wins, and eventually, after hours of fighting and hundreds dead, that again proves true. By then you had pushed back into the streets, hunkered down in defensive positions away from the sniper fire of the Dictator’s guards, letting the attackers funnel themselves into range and die. Orders are passed between division by code, trumpet blasts or the loud booming of blank shots. Holes are hastily blown between buildings to allow for messengers to travel between groups. And eventually enough data arrives that you feel confident: the Republic’s forces are no longer a threat. Exhausted and battered, your troops give up their hastily constructed barricades and move back towards the (if: $3a is "True")[warehouse](else-if: $3b is "True")[cathedral](else:)[mansion]. Very few want to volunteer for the task of breaching the final fortress, but you make your selections and the task is done, Colonel Bechtholdt eagerly leading the assault. They bring you the Dictator, and then Major Pruefer’s body. The Dictator is short and slightly stocky, wearing large, thick-lensed glasses, the frames of which are mostly hidden behind her well maintained but obviously difficult to control curly hair. She stares at you with tired defiance, her eyes red, and holds her wrists up towards you. [[Handcuff her.]] [[Have her shot.]]]

(set: $e3 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''e3'' [[Take her out into the starlight.]]]

Loose ends are always a danger, gloating is unnecessary and curiosity killed the cat. You let out a long sigh as the body is taken away. The city, now that you can look at it as a place rather than as a situation, is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. Tomorrow there will be questions of resupply, disarmament of rebels and of how to control the outlying territories. But today, today the city is yours. You have never felt so pleased.

(if: $e1 is "True")[There is a click. And then a flash.](else:)[There is shouting, talking, thinking and the barrel moves away. Every sense hits you, and you retreat from reality, aware vaguely that you are walking, aware vaguely that you have vomited. The smell and taste of the acid, the burning at the back of your throat, it centres you, gives your mind something to fix on so everything else can be pushed away. You feel the cold air around you, the breeze fresh, your mind alighting briefly, realising what you have just left, and you retch again, but nothing comes up. Something heavy lands on your wrists and you are dragged through the street, your eyes only opening as your every muscle spasms. It takes you a moment to realise what has assaulted you, and you almost laugh when you realise it is just cold, fresh water. Rough hands dry you, still fully dressed, prudishly avoiding your chest and crotch. Now you do laugh, looking into the eyes of the royalist soldiers, so young and bold, yet so cowardly and unsure. They stop when you laugh, leaving you cold and uncomfortable, marching through the streets of your home in chafing clothes. They take you to a man, a man you know you saw just moments ago and yet cannot remember seeing. You are only distantly aware of how you got here, your mind taking the past away, keeping itself going in the present. You stare up at him as you are cuffed, the man a giant, tall and broad, his epaulettes marking him as a general. [[Wait for the man to speak.]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"f1")[(set: $f1 = "True")(goto: "Hear the man speak")] (link:"f2")[(set: $f2 = "True")(goto: "Hear the man speak")] (link:"f3")[(set: $f3 = "True")(goto: "Hear the man speak")]]

(if: $e1 is "True")[The giant man does not wait for long before deciding. “Shoot her.” Fear, and then all you can think about is trying not to vomit. A soldier raises a rifle. All you can feel is the panic, all of your mind focused on keeping the screams and the sick at bay. You need time, time to think of something to say, to be remembered, to be saved. A click. A bang.](else:)[He nods, and then orders you cuffed. You are slightly surprised to see a pair immediately provided. You know that your bureaucracy would not have been so prepared, and the thought almost makes you laugh, but you hold it back. (if: $4c is true and $d1 or $d3 is "True")[The pain spikes, and you look down to see someone bandaging your stomach, the blood darkening the clean white fabric but not dripping through.] [[Wait for the man to speak.]]]

You look the woman up and down. Blood has clumped in her already unkempt hair, run down her face and stained her clothes. Worse, you have seen the effect of slaughter on civilians. The shock will ebb in minutes, and when it does she will empty her stomach, and possibly her bowels. It is undignified, but it is natural. It would befit neither you nor her, neither the Kingdom nor the Republic, for you to talk to her in that state. So you order her taken away and cleaned while you go back outside, gratefully gulping down the fresh air. You occupy yourself with tending to your horse, not yet willing to talk to anyone, for the minute or two it takes for your men to wash the former Dictator. And then she is there, sopping wet but at least approaching clean. After that is the formality of having her cuffed, but that confirms the dynamic, it doesn’t change it. You are the victor. You will ask the questions. [[I’m curious, what makes the Republic elect a Dictator?]] [[Do you want to live?]] [[Will you sign a surrender?]]

The woman seems to think carefully before answering. Your code is: ''f1'' (set: $f1 = "True") [[Wait for a response.]]

The woman seems to think carefully before answering. Your code is: ''f2'' (set: $f2 = "True") [[Wait for a response.]]

The woman seems to think carefully before answering. Your code is: ''f3'' (set: $f3 = "True") [[Wait for a response.]]

There is a brief moment of worry, handcuffs are not standard equipment, but luckily one of your aids had foreseen this eventuality and soon the Dictator is, in the most minimal way possible, in chains, a gesture more symbolic than practical. (if: $4c is true and $d1 or $d3 is "True")[A small nod from you confirms a nearby medic’s unspoken suggestion that her wound be bandaged.] She looks up at you, the dynamic confirmed but not changed. You are the victor. You will ask the questions. [[I’m curious, what makes the Republic elect a Dictator?]] [[Do you want to live?]] [[Will you sign a surrender?]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"6a")[(set: $6a = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6b")[(set: $6b = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6c")[(set: $6c = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6d")[(set: $6d = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6e")[(set: $6e = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6g")[(set: $6g = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6h")[(set: $6h = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6i")[(set: $6i = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6j")[(set: $6j = "True")(goto: "Get a response")] (link:"6k")[(set: $6k = "True")(goto: "Get a response")]]

(if: $f1 or $g13 is "True")[(if: $f1 is "True")[“I’m curious,” the general says, his voice less heavily accented than you might have expected, “what makes the Republic elect a dictator?”](else:)[“Then you will answer my questions. What makes the Republic elect a Dictator?”] [[Why should you care?]] If picked, your code is: ''6a'' [[Because I convinced them they needed one.]] If picked, your code is: ''6b'' [[The night has changed things. We needed someone who could make decisions more quickly and more effectively.]] If picked, your code is: ''6c'' [[We had a revolution. This was the outcome.]] If picked, your code is: ''6d''](else-if: $f2 is "True")[The general’s voice is less heavily accented than you might have expected as he asks “Do you want to live?” (link: "Yes.")[(goto: "Yes, I want to live.")]If picked, your code is: ''6e'' (link: "No.")[(goto: "No, I want to die.")]If picked, your code is: ''6g''](else-if: $f3 is "True")[The general’s voice is less heavily accented than you might have expected as he asks “Will you sign a full surrender?” (link: "Yes.")[(goto: "Yes, I will surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''6h'' (link: "No.")[(goto: "No, I won’t surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''6i'' [[Only if you guarantee the safety of my people.]] If picked, your code is: ''6j'' [[What will you give me in return?]] If picked, your code is: ''6k'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g1")[(set: $g1 = "True")(goto: "Why should you care")] (link:"g3")[(set: $g3 = "True")(goto: "Why should you care")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g4")[(set: $g4 = "True")(goto: "Because I convinced them they needed one")] (link:"g5")[(set: $g5 = "True")(goto: "Because I convinced them they needed one")] (link:"g6")[(set: $g6 = "True")(goto: "Because I convinced them they needed one")] (link:"g7")[(set: $g7 = "True")(goto: "Because I convinced them they needed one")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g8")[(set: $g8 = "True")(goto: "The night has changed things. We needed someone who could make decisions more quickly and more effectively")] (link:"g33")[(set: $g33 = "True")(goto: "The night has changed things. We needed someone who could make decisions more quickly and more effectively")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g9")[(set: $g9 = "True")(goto: "We had a revolution. This was the outcome")] (link:"g11")[(set: $g11 = "True")(goto: "We had a revolution. This was the outcome")] (link:"g10")[(set: $g10 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g26")[(set: $g26 = "True")(goto: "Only if you guarantee the safety of my people")] (link:"g27")[(set: $g27 = "True")(goto: "Only if you guarantee the safety of my people")] (link:"g28")[(set: $g28 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]] (set: $6j = "True")

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g29")[(set: $g29 = "True")(goto: "What will you give me in return")] (link:"g31")[(set: $g31 = "True")(goto: "What will you give me in return")] (link:"g32")[(set: $g32 = "True")(goto: "What will you give me in return")] (link:"g34")[(set: $g34 = "True")(goto: "What will you give me in return")]]

The woman’s voice, when she speaks, is stronger than you had expected, and also more ‘common’, although you get the feeling that may be an affectation. (if: $6a is "True")[“Why should you care?” [[Because I am in charge of this city now, and I need to know everything about it.]] If picked, your code is: ''g1'' [[Why should I care about your life, especially if you are not going to be useful to me?]] If picked, your code is: ''g3''](else-if: $6b is "True")[“Because I convinced them they needed one.” [[So you’re dangerously cunning then?]] If picked, your code is: ''g4'' (link: "So you lied to your own people.")[(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then?")] If picked, your code is: ''g5'' (link: "I believe power should be earned, not taken.")[(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then?")] If picked, your code is: ''g6'' (link: "I respect someone who can see what she wants and take it.")[(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then?")] If picked, your code is: ''g7''](else-if: $6c is "True")[“The night has changed things. We needed someone who could make decisions more quickly and more effectively.” [[Isn’t that a betrayal of your Republican ideals?]] If picked, your code is: ''g8'' [[So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good.]] If picked, your code is: ''g33''](else-if: $6d is "True")[“We had a revolution. This was the outcome.” [[A revolution? who against whom? Which side won?]] If picked, your code is: ''g9'' (link: "Typical of your kind. We embraced the night as an opportunity, you just broke down into squabbles. And no, I don’t want to hear any excuses. Just tell me if you will sign a surrender on behalf of your fractured country?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")]If picked, your code is: ''g10'' (link: "I am glad to see that the right side won. An individual authority is the only civilised way of running a country.")[(goto: "So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good.")] If picked, your code is: ''g11''](else-if: $6e is "True")[“Yes.” [[Why?]] If picked, your code is: ''g12'' (link: "Then you will answer my questions. What makes the Republic elect a Dictator?")[(goto: "Wait for a response.")] If picked, your code is: ''g13'' (link: "Then you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''g14''](else-if: $6g is "True")[“No.” (link: "Then I have no more use of you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g15'' [[Why would anyone wish to die?]] If picked, your code is: ''g16'' (link: "I wouldn’t want to live in your situation either. I shall put you out of your misery. You there, you heard the Dictator, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g17''](else-if: $6f is "True")[“Only if I could live free.” (link: "Then you will not live at all. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g18'' (link: "I understand. But you will never be truly free again. One way or another, the King will decide the course of your life. The choice of freedom or not has been decided for you. The choice that remains is comfort or discomfort. And the way to find out the answer to that question is to ask if you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''g20''](else-if: $6h is "True")[“Yes.” [[Good. That’s all I needed from her, take her away, the King will decide what happens to her after she signs.]] If picked, your code is: ''g21'' [[Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return?]] If picked, your code is: ''g22''](else-if: $6i is "True")[“No.” (link: "The Senate will. They have said as much. But in order for that to happen, you would need to be dead. So. Will you reconsider your answer?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g24'' (link: "The Senate will, then. I do not need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g25''](else-if: $6j is "True")[“Only if you guarantee the safety of my people.” (link: "There is no such thing as ‘safe’. There will be rebels, and they will have to be dealt with. But I can promise that civilians will be spared. Will that do? If not, then I should tell you that the Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. If you say no, I will have to give them the power to do what I ask. I will have to kill you. I do not want to, but I will. So, will you sign?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g26'' (link: "No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So, I will ask again. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g27'' (link: "No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So you there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g28''](else-if: $6k is "True")[“What will you give me in return?” (link: "You would sell out your country for personal gain? You disgust me. I offer you only your life. So, do you accept?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g29'' (link: "A comfortable house-arrest down in the King’s capital.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g31'' (link: "A title and a place in the King’s court.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g32'' (link: "Money. Large quantities of it.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g34'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7a")[(set: $7a = "True")(goto: "Because I am in charge of this city now, and I need to know everything about it")] (link:"7b")[(set: $7b = "True")(goto: "Because I am in charge of this city now, and I need to know everything about it")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7c")[(set: $7c = "True")(goto: "Why should I care about your life, especially if you are not going to be useful to me")] (link:"7d")[(set: $7d = "True")(goto: "Why should I care about your life, especially if you are not going to be useful to me")] (link:"7e")[(set: $7e = "True")(goto: "Why should I care about your life, especially if you are not going to be useful to me")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7f")[(set: $7f = "True")(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then")] (link:"7g")[(set: $7g = "True")(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then")] (link:"7h")[(set: $7h = "True")(goto: "So you’re dangerously cunning then")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7i")[(set: $7i = "True")(goto: "Isn’t that a betrayal of your Republican ideals")] (link:"7j")[(set: $7j = "True")(goto: "Isn’t that a betrayal of your Republican ideals")] (link:"7k")[(set: $7k = "True")(goto: "Isn’t that a betrayal of your Republican ideals")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7x")[(set: $7x = "True")(goto: "So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good")] (link:"7m")[(set: $7m = "True")(goto: "So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good")] (link:"7n")[(set: $7n = "True")(goto: "So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7y")[(set: $7y = "True")(goto: "A revolution? who against whom? Which side won")] (link:"7p")[(set: $7p = "True")(goto: "A revolution? who against whom? Which side won")] (link:"7q")[(set: $7q = "True")(goto: "A revolution? who against whom? Which side won")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7r")[(set: $7r = "True")(goto: "Why")] (link:"7s")[(set: $7s = "True")(goto: "Why")] (link:"7t")[(set: $7t = "True")(goto: "Why")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"7u")[(set: $7u = "True")(goto: "Why would anyone wish to die")] (link:"7v")[(set: $7v = "True")(goto: "Why would anyone wish to die")] (link:"7w")[(set: $7w = "True")(goto: "Why would anyone wish to die")]]

A soldier steps forward and, not harshly, leads the former Dictator away. She will be treated well. She is unlikely to have any intelligence that would be militarily useful, so better to deliver her to the King as happy as possible. If he wishes to break her after that, that is his concern. You put her out of your mind for now. Perhaps you will speak to her later, but making that decision, and the many, many others that you will have to make, can wait until tomorrow. Today the city is yours. And it is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less grand than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. You have never felt more pleased.

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"8a")[(set: $8a = "True")(goto: "Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return")] (link:"8b")[(set: $8b = "True")(goto: "Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return")] (link:"8c")[(set: $8c = "True")(goto: "Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return")] (link:"8d")[(set: $8d = "True")(goto: "Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return")]]

(if: $g1 is "True")[Because I am in charge of this city now, and I need to know everything about it. [[Well then you have an incentive to keep me alive.]] If picked, your code is: ''7a'' [[I want this to be as hard as possible for you.]] If picked, your code is: ''7b''](else-if: $g3 is "True")[“Why should I care about your life, especially if you are not going to be useful to me?” [[Because you need me to sign a surrender.]] If picked, your code is: ''7c'' [[Because every life is valuable.]] If picked, your code is: ''7d'' [[You shouldn’t.]] If picked, your code is: ''7e'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s1")[(set: $s1 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k1")[(set: $k1 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s2")[(set: $s2 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k2")[(set: $k2 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s3")[(set: $s3 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k4")[(set: $k4 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s4")[(set: $s4 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k5")[(set: $k5 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")] (link:"s5")[(set: $s5 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s6")[(set: $s6 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k6")[(set: $k6 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")] (link:"k7")[(set: $k7 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $7a is "True")[“Well then you have an incentive to keep me alive.” (link: "I suppose I do. But you are right, these are secondary questions. For now, tell me, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s1'' (link: "I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k1''](else-if: $7b is "True")[“I want this to be as hard as possible for you.” (link: "I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k2'' (link: "Then I will just ask the basic question. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s2'']

(if: $7c is "True")[“Because you need me to sign a surrender.” (link: "Will you?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s3'' (link: "I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k4''](else-if: $7d is "True")[“Because every life is valuable.” (link: "No, only the lives on my side are valuable. The others are just threats. The question that matters then is; are you a threat? If you are not, you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s4'' (link: "No, only the lives on my side are valuable. The others are just threats. Like you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k5'' (link: "Yes, that is true. Which is why I want this to be as bloodless as possible. Sign a surrender. If you don’t the Senate will, and one more valuable life will have been lost for nothing.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s5'' ](else-if: $7e is "True")[“You shouldn’t.” (link: "Then I won’t. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k6'' (link: "I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k7'' (link: "I understand what you are going through. I will do us both a favour and cut to the chase. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s6'']

(if: $g4 is "True")[“So you’re dangerously cunning then?”](else-if: $g5 is "True")[“So you lied to your own people.”](else-if: $g6 is "True")[“I believe power should be earned, not taken.”](else-if: $g7 is "True")[“I respect someone who can see what she wants and take it.”] [[I only do what I have to do.]] If picked, your code is: ''7f'' [[I will not apologise for doing what was best for the people of the Republic.]] If picked, your code is: ''7g'' [[I’m about to die anyway, I might as well admit that I like power and I’m willing to do whatever I can to get it.]] If picked, your code is: ''7h''

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s7")[(set: $s7 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s8")[(set: $s8 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s9")[(set: $s9 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s10")[(set: $s10 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s11")[(set: $s11 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s12")[(set: $s12 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s13")[(set: $s13 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s14")[(set: $s14 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k8")[(set: $k8 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $7f is "True")[“I only do what I have to do.” (link: "Then you will understand why you need to sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s7'' (link: "Your people’s willingness to forget your morals for the sake of expediency is exactly why so many of your people live in poverty. Do the right thing for your people now and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s8''](else-if: $7g is "True")[“I will not apologise for doing what was best for the people of the Republic.” (link: "Then you will do the right thing for your people now and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s9'' (if: $4d is "True")[(link: "You are trying to speak of morals after what you have done tonight? You make me sick. At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s10''] (if: $3a is "True")[(link: "I apologise if it is difficult to take your moralising seriously after having witnessed the poverty of this city first-hand on the march to this warehouse. At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s11''](else-if: $3c is "True")[(link: "Your care for the Republic is why you have taken up residence in a mansion, is it? At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s12'']](else-if: $7h is "True")[“I’m about to die anyway, I might as well admit that I like power and I’m willing to do whatever I can to get it.” (link: "I do not expect such refreshing honesty when dealing with politicians. While we are being open, I will ask my burning question. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s13'' (link: "Exactly the kind of self-interest I had expected from a woman willing to call herself Dictator of the Republic. Now tell me, are you going to extend that philosophy to saving your own life and signing a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s14'' (link: "Exactly the kind of self-interest I had expected from a woman willing to call herself Dictator of the Republic. I cannot deal with you. For the sake of the Republic, of which I am now custodian, I sentence you to death. You there. Shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k8'']

(if: $g8 is "True")[“Isn’t that a betrayal of your Republican ideals?” [[No, not at all. I was elected by the people. The will of the people actually matters here.]] If picked, your code is: ''7i'' [[It is, I suppose, but it was only ever temporary, and desperate times call for extreme measures.]] If picked, your code is: ''7j'' [[Why do you care? And why now? Just cut to the chase.]] If picked, your code is: ''7k''](else-if: $g33 is "True")[“So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good.” (link:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people, and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")[(goto:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")] If picked, your code is: ''7x'' [[Yes, individual authority has many advantages. When the leader is competent. I had to prove that I was. Your King just had to come out of the right womb.]] If picked, your code is: ''7m'' [[You are not wrong. If I had had the time, I could have done great things.]] If picked, your code is: ''7n'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s15")[(set: $s15 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s16")[(set: $s16 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s17")[(set: $s17 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s18")[(set: $s18 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s19")[(set: $s19 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"x1")[(set: $x1 = "True")(goto: "x1")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s20")[(set: $s20 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s21")[(set: $s21 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s22")[(set: $s22 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s23")[(set: $s23 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s24")[(set: $s24 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s25")[(set: $s25 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s26")[(set: $s26 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s27")[(set: $s27 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s28")[(set: $s29 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s28")[(set: $s29 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(if: $7i is "True")[“No, not at all. I was elected by the people. The will of the people actually matters here.” (link: "//Mattered//, not //matters//. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether the great Dictator of the people will sign their surrender for them.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s15'' (link: "The King has much more time to listen to his subjects than any of you elected senators do. When you are monarch, you do not need to spend your days planning the next election, or begging the rich and powerful for support. You can just rule. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s16'' (link: "I am here to defend the King in battle, not in debate, so let us move on. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s17''](else-if: $7j is "True")[“It is, I suppose, but it was only ever temporary, and desperate times call for extreme measures.” (link: "You can dance around the issue all you like, I am just impressed that even you have finally seen the sense of having an individual authority.")[(goto: "So you have already seen the sense of an individual authority. Good.")] If picked, your code is: ''x1'' (link: "Interesting, but I am afraid we have more pressing matters to discuss. Specifically, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s18'' (link: "Oh I don’t have time for your self delusions. We are moving on and you will tell me whether you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s19''](else-if: $7k is "True")[“Why do you care? And why now? Just cut to the chase.” (link: "You are right, I don’t care. So just tell me whether you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s20'' (link: "I just wanted to talk, but if you wish to move on, then of course we shall. Tell me, then, will you sign a full surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s21'']

(if: $7x is "True")[“There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people, and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.” (link: "You are right. The King’s power is absolute, and therefore stable. Yours is contingent, and therefore it was only a matter of time before your own countrymen threw you out. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s22'' (link: "The King derives his power from the divine, a much greater providence than your mere political convenience. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s23'' (link: "Maybe so. This is a debate that you can perhaps have with the King, if you live long enough to meet him. But that will depend on one thing. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s24''](else-if: $7m is "True")[“Yes, individual authority has many advantages. When the leader is competent. I had to prove that I was. Your King just had to come out of the right womb.” (link: "Bold to talk of comparative competence when you are in chains and I am not. Which brings me to a question. Now you have lost, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s25'' (link: "The King wastes no time in competition and our nation wastes no time with uncertainty. We know who our ruler is, so he can receive the best education from the moment he is born, and he need not ever take time away from learning in order to campaign. We do not rely on luck and the fickle whims of the people, we simply create the best possible ruler. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s26'' (link: "Maybe so. This is a debate that you can perhaps have with the King, if you live long enough to meet him. But that will depend on one thing. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s27''](else-if: $7n is "True")[“You are not wrong. If I had had the time, I could have done great things.” (link: "But you did not have the time, and now here you are. And given that you are here, now answer my question. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s28'' (link: "Perhaps you will still be able to achieve great things, as a subject of the King. But that will all depend on one question. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s29'']

(if: $g9 is "True")[“A revolution? Who against whom? Which side won?” (link:"The socialists rose up against the Senate. It was the Republic that won, we were in the process of writing a new, fair, socialist //and// liberal constitution.")[(goto:"The socialists rose up against the Senate. It was the Republic that won, we were in the process of writing a new, fair, socialist //and// liberal constitution.")] If picked, your code is: ''7y'' [[The socialists attacked the Senate. The Senate won, of course, throwing some meaningless bones to the socialists to keep in line those who remained.]] If picked, your code is: ''7p'' [[The socialists wanted a better world, and got it. The Senate was being reformed in the image of socialist equality, until you arrived.]] If picked, your code is: ''7q''](else-if: $g11 is "True")[“I am glad to see that the right side won. An individual authority is the only civilised way of running a country.” (link:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people, and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")[(goto:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")] If picked, your code is: ''7x'' [[Yes, individual authority has many advantages. When the leader is competent. I had to prove that I was. Your King just had to come out of the right womb.]] If picked, your code is: ''7m'' [[You are not wrong. If I had had the time, I could have done great things.]] If picked, your code is: ''7n'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s30")[(set: $s30 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s31")[(set: $s31 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k9")[(set: $k9 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s32")[(set: $s32 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s33")[(set: $s33 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s34")[(set: $s34 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k10")[(set: $k10 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $7y is "True")[“The socialists rose up against the Senate. It was the Republic that won, we were in the process of writing a new, fair, socialist //and// liberal constitution.” (link: "Political compromise is laudable. Perhaps you will make another compromise and sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s30'' (link: "Of course you would allow your government to fracture. Weakness is built into the very model of your democratic state. That ends today. All I ask is for you to cave one more time and sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s31'' (link: "I did not know you were a socialist sympathiser. You have made up my mind for me. The Senate gave me no such impression, and promised to sign a surrender. So I have no need of you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k9''](else-if: $7p is "True")[“The socialists attacked the Senate. The Senate won, of course, throwing some meaningless bones to the socialists to keep in line those who remained.” (link: "You say ‘of course’, yet I saw nothing in the performance of your men today that would make me believe that any victory of theirs would be guaranteed. But enough of this. I need to know, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s32'' (link: "Congratulations then, I suppose. I understand that it must be galling to win one war only to lose another one so soon after, but I am afraid I must ask, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s33''](else-if: $7q is "True")[“The socialists wanted a better world, and got it. The Senate was being reformed in the image of socialist equality, until you arrived.” (link: "A nice vision, but a naive one. Either way, it’s over now. Put it behind you and focus on the future, specifically on the question: will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s34'' (link: "I did not know you were a socialist sympathiser. You have made up my mind for me. The Senate gave me no such impression, and promised to sign a surrender. So I have no need of you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k10'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g12")[(set: $g12 = "True")(goto: "Yes, I want to live")] (link:"g13")[(set: $g13 = "True")(goto: "Hear the man speak")] (link:"g14")[(set: $g14 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(if: $g12 is "True")[“Why?” [[Because as long as I’m alive, I can fight back against you.]] If picked, your code is: ''7r'' [[All animals want to live. It’s natural.]] If picked, your code is: ''7s'' [[Because I know that there could still be great things in store for me, in the Kingdom.]] If picked, your code is: ''7t'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s35")[(set: $s35 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k11")[(set: $k11 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s36")[(set: $s36 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s37")[(set: $s37 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s38")[(set: $s38 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s39")[(set: $s39 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s40")[(set: $s40 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(if: $7r is "True")[“Because as long as I’m alive, I can fight back against you.” (link: "I see you will not make this easy. Still, I have enough honour to at least give you the chance to make the right move, so I will ask, despite already knowing the answer, will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s35'' (link: "I see you will not make this easy. So if you will not bother, I will not either. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k11''](else-if: $7s is "True")[“All animals want to live. It’s natural.” (link: "Your obsession with the base nature of man is not becoming. Ignorance is natural, faeces is natural, barbarism is natural. We have found ways of dealing with all of them. But I do not disagree with your sentiment, and there will be time to talk on philosophy later. For now we should look at a practical question: will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s36'' (link: "Simple, but more or less true. So if it is natural to wish to survive, then I suppose it would be natural for you to sign a surrender. Will you?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s37'' (link: "Many animals have been observed sacrificing themselves. There are higher callings, even within nature, than the need to go on. But I should not have expected more from someone who has, by the looks of you, never been a soldier. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s38''](else-if: $7t is "True")[“Because I know that there could still be great things in store for me, in the Kingdom.” (link: "Don’t try to sway me. I do not have time for beggars. Give me something useful. Like say yes when I ask if you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s39'' (link: "I like a politician who can be direct. True, there may be a comfortable life waiting for you in the Kingdom. But it all depends on whether you will sign a surrender. Will you?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s40'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g15")[(set: $g15 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")] (link:"g16")[(set: $g16 = "True")(goto: "No, I want to die")] (link:"g17")[(set: $g17 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $7u is "True")[“Because I have failed my people.” (link: "There is nothing more you could have done. Our forces were superior, that is nothing that any politician could have done anything about. Where you could fail your people would be in not signing a surrender. So will you sign?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s41'' (link: "Yes, you have. They are subjects of the King now. All that remains is for you to complete your failure and sign a surrender. Will you?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s42''](if: $7v is "True")[“Because I would only want to live in a free world.” (link: "I would have expected better from the leader of the Republic, I would have thought that at least //you// would be immune to your own propaganda. True, there are excesses in which you indulge here, and biological facts that you ignore and subvert, but the Kingdom is not nearly as dark as you would think. Well, not now, dark was a poor choice of word, but we are not the villains your press would paint us. But you will believe what you want to believe. Your life is your own to spend or save, all it depends on is the question: will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s43'' (link: "That is easy enough to say. But let me take the question out of the theoretical, and phrase it another way. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s44'' (link: "I understand. But you will never be truly free again. One way or another, the King will decide the course of your life. The choice of freedom or not has been decided for you. The choice that remains is comfort or discomfort. And the way to find out the answer to that question is to ask if you will sign a surrender.")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s45'' (link: "I can respect that. You there. You heard the Dictator. Shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k12''](else-if: $7w is "True")[“Because I am sure that death would be better than the pain you will put me through.” (link: "I have no intention of torturing you. Why would I? There is nothing I can get from you I cannot get from the Senate, and it is always easier to work on a group than an individual. The worst I have considered doing is killing you. Which brings us to a question. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s46'' (link: "Do not think that your awareness of your fate will make it any less enjoyable for me. If anything your fear might improve the experience. But before we get to that, a question, upon which much will depend. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender?")] If picked, your code is: ''s47'' (link: "I am benevolent. You there, the Dictator would prefer to die than live. Shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k13'']

“Why would anyone wish to die?” [[Because I have failed my people.]] If picked, your code is: ''7u'' [[Because I would only want to live in a free world.]] If picked, your code is: ''7v'' [[Because I am sure that death would be better than the pain you will put me through.]] If picked, your code is: ''7w''

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s41")[(set: $s41 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s42")[(set: $s42 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s43")[(set: $s43 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s44")[(set: $s44 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s45")[(set: $s45 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k12")[(set: $k12 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"s46")[(set: $s46 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"s47")[(set: $s47 = "True")(goto: "Will you surrender")] (link:"k13")[(set: $k13 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g21")[(set: $g21 = "True")(goto: "Yes, I will surrender")] (link:"g22")[(set: $g22 = "True")(goto: "Yes, I will surrender")]]

(if: $g21 is "True")[“Good. That’s all I needed from her, take her away, the King will decide what happens to her after she signs.” Somewhere the ghost of an instinct makes itself known, a tiny voice telling your reflexes to kick and scream and fight. But you are too tired for even your unconscious urges to matter. And so you keep your dignity. You are left outside and under silent guard for some hours while the army shifts from an attacking force to an occupying one. And then you are taken, to your great shock, to your home(if: $3c is "True")[, all the bodies and most of the debris already removed]. You are confined to your bedroom, and told that other rooms will be made available to you after they have been searched, but even after you are given free rein of the house you will not be allowed to leave unless under guard. Until, of course, you are sent back south. In the meantime there will be guards stationed at every exit, and if you need anything you need but ask. And then you are left alone again, amongst your comforts and possessions. Soon, you know, someone will bring a document and you will sign it. What happens then, not even the Pantheon knows. But for now you have your life, Alexisgrad still stands and your feather bed is calling.](else-if: $g22 is "True")[“Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return?” (link: "A comfortable, quiet life.")[(goto: "Agreement.")] If picked, your code is: ''8a'' (link: "Money.")[(goto: "Agreement.")] If picked, your code is: ''8c'' (link: "A position in the King’s court.")[(goto: "Agreement.")] If picked, your code is: ''8d'' (if: $6j is not "True")[(link: "Security for my people.")[(goto: "Agreement.")] If picked, your code is: ''8b'']]

(if: $8a is "True")[“A comfortable, quiet life.”](else-if: $8b is "True")[“Security for my people.”](else-if: $8c is "True")[“Money.”](else-if: $8d is "True")[“A position in the King’s court.”] One of your aids appears at your shoulder and quickly sends you a hand gesture to let you know that you are needed, urgently but not critically. (link: "I will see what I can do. Now I am afraid I must leave you Dictator. You there, take the Dictator somewhere comfortable.")[(goto: "Settlement.")] If picked, your code is: ''z1'' (link: "I am afraid that I cannot agree to that. We can discuss an alternative another time, I am afraid I must leave you now Dictator. You there, take the Dictator away.")[(goto: "Settlement.")] If picked, your code is: ''z2''

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"z1")[(set: $z1 = "True")(goto: "Agreement")] (link:"z2")[(set: $z2 = "True")(goto: "Agreement")]]

A soldier steps forward and, not harshly, leads the former Dictator away. You put her out of your mind for now. Perhaps you will speak to her later, but making that decision, and the many, many others that you will have to make, can wait until tomorrow. Today the city is yours. And it is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less grand than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. You have never felt more pleased.

(if: $z1 is "True")[“I will see what I can do. Now I am afraid I must leave you Dictator. You there, take the Dictator somewhere comfortable.”](else-if: $z2 is "True")[“I am afraid that I cannot agree to that. We can discuss an alternative another time, I am afraid I must leave you now Dictator. You there, take the Dictator away.”] The General gives you no time to reply before turning away from you and riding slowly away, an aide attempting to whisper to him while also jogging to keep up. The guards gently usher you away and you are left outside and under silent guard for some hours while the army shifts from an attacking force to an occupying one. And then you are taken, to your great shock, to your home(if: $3c is "True")[, all the bodies and most of the debris already removed]. You are confined to your bedroom, and told that other rooms will be made available to you after they have been searched, but even after you are given free reign of the house you will not be allowed to leave unless under guard. Until, of course, you are sent back south. In the meantime there will be guards stationed at every exit, and if you need anything you need but ask. And then you are left alone again, amongst your comforts and possessions. Soon, you know, someone will bring a document and you will sign it. What happens then, not even the Pantheon knows. But for now you have your life, Alexisgrad still stands, and your feather bed is calling.

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"g24")[(set: $g24 = "True")(goto: "No, I won’t surrender")] (link:"g25")[(set: $g25 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $g24 is "True")[“The Senate will. They have said as much. But in order for that to happen, you would need to be dead. So. Will you reconsider your answer?” (link: "Yes, I will sign.")[(goto: "Yes, I will surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''8e'' [[No, I won’t sign.]] If picked, your code is: ''8f'']

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"8e")[(set: $8e = "True")(goto: "Ask again")] (link:"8f")[(set: $8f = "True")(goto: "Ask again")]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"k14")[(set: $k14 = "True")(goto: "Get shot")]]

(if: $8e is "True")[“Yes, I will sign.” [[Good. That’s all I needed from her, take her away, the King will decide what happens to her after she signs.]] If picked, your code is: ''g21'' (if: $6k is not "True")[[[Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return?]] If picked, your code is: ''g22'']](else-if: $8f is "True")[“No, I will not sign.” (link: "Then you leave me no choice. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''k14'']

(if: $g26 is "True")[“There is no such thing as ‘safe’. There will be rebels, and they will have to be dealt with. But I can promise that civilians will be spared. Will that do? If not, then I should tell you that the Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. If you say no, I will have to give them the power to do what I ask. I will have to kill you. I do not want to, but I will. So, will you sign?”](else-if: $g27 is "True")[“No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So, I will ask again. Will you sign a surrender?”] (link: "Yes, I will sign.")[(goto: "Yes, I will surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''8e'' [[No, I won’t sign.]] If picked, your code is: ''8f''

(if: $g29 is "True")[“You would sell out your country for personal gain? You disgust me. I offer you only your life. So, do you accept?”](else-if: $g31 is "True")[“A comfortable house-arrest down in the King’s capital.”](else-if: $g32 is "True")[“A title and a place in the King’s court.”](else-if: $g34 is "True")[“Money. Large quantities of it.”] (link: "Yes, I will sign.")[(goto: "Yes, I will surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''8e'' [[No, I won’t sign.]] If picked, your code is: ''8f''

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Please select your partner's code: (link:"6hh")[(set: $6hh = "True")(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender")] (link:"6ii")[(set: $6ii = "True")(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender")] (link:"6jj")[(set: $6jj = "True")(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender")] (link:"6kk")[(set: $6kk = "True")(goto: "Will you sign a full surrender")]]

(if: $g10 is "True")[“Typical of your kind. We embraced the night as an opportunity, you just broke down into squabbles. And no, I don’t want to hear any excuses. Just tell me if you will sign a surrender on behalf of your fractured country?”](else-if: $g14 is "True")[“Then you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $g20 is "True")[“I understand. But you will never be truly free again. One way or another, the King will decide the course of your life. The choice of freedom or not has been decided for you. The choice that remains is comfort or discomfort. And the way to find out the answer to that question is to ask if you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s1 is "True")[“I suppose I do. But you are right, these are secondary questions. For now, tell me, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s2 is "True")["Then I will just ask the basic question. Will you sign a surrender?"](else-if: $s3 is "True")[“Will you?”](else-if: $s4 is "True")[“No, only the lives on my side are valuable. The others are just threats. The question that matters then is; are you a threat? If you are not, you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s5 is "True")[“Yes, that is true. Which is why I want this to be as bloodless as possible. Sign a surrender. If you don’t the Senate will, and one more valuable life will have been lost for nothing.”](else-if: $s6 is "True")[“I understand what you are going through. I will do us both a favour and cut to the chase. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s7 is "True")[“Then you will understand why you need to sign a surrender."](else-if: $s8 is "True")[“Your people’s willingness to forget your morals for the sake of expediency is exactly why so many of your people live in poverty. Do the right thing for your people now and sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s9 is "True")[“Then you will do the right thing for your people now and sign a surrender."](else-if: $s10 is "True")[“You are trying to speak of morals after what you have done tonight? You make me sick. At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s11 is "True")[“I apologise if it is difficult to take your moralising seriously after having witnessed the poverty of this city first-hand on the march to this warehouse. At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s12 is "True")[“Your care for the Republic is why you have taken up residence in a mansion, is it? At least do the right thing now and sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s13 is "True")[“I do not expect such refreshing honesty when dealing with politicians. While we are being open, I will ask my burning question. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s14 is "True")[“Exactly the kind of self-interest I had expected from a woman willing to call herself Dictator of the Republic. Now tell me, are you going to extend that philosophy to saving your own life and signing a surrender?”](else-if: $s15 is "True")[“//Mattered//, not //matters//. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether the great Dictator of the people will sign their surrender for them.”](else-if: $s16 is "True")[“The King has much more time to listen to his subjects than any of your elected senators do. When you are monarch, you do not need to spend your days planning the next election, or begging the rich and powerful for support. You can just rule. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s17 is "True")[“I am here to defend the King in battle, not in debate, so let us move on. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender."](else-if: $s18 is "True")[“Interesting, but I am afraid we have more pressing matters to discuss. Specifically, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s19 is "True")[“Oh I don’t have time for your self delusions. We are moving on and you will tell me whether you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s20 is "True")[You are right, I don’t care. So just tell me whether you will sign a surrender."](else-if: $s21 is "True")[“I just wanted to talk, but if you wish to move on, then of course we shall. Tell me, then, will you sign a full surrender?”](else-if: $s22 is "True")[“You are right. The King’s power is absolute, and therefore stable. Yours is contingent, and therefore it was only a matter of time before your own countrymen threw you out. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.”](else-if: $s23 is "True")[“The King derives his power from the divine, a much greater providence than your mere political convenience. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.”](else-if: $s24 is "True")[“Maybe so. This is a debate that you can perhaps have with the King, if you live long enough to meet him. But that will depend on one thing. Will you sign a surrender?"](else-if: $s25 is "True")[“Bold to talk of comparative competence when you are in chains and I am not. Which brings me to a question. Now you have lost, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s26 is "True")[“The King wastes no time in competition and our nation wastes no time with uncertainty. We know who our ruler is, so he can receive the best education from the moment he is born, and he need not ever take time away from learning in order to campaign. We do not rely on luck and the fickle whims of the people, we simply create the best possible ruler. But enough of this philosophy. Tell me what I need to know, tell me whether you will use the power the people have vested in you to sign their surrender.”](else-if: $s27 is "True")[“Maybe so. This is a debate that you can perhaps have with the King, if you live long enough to meet him. But that will depend on one thing. Will you sign a surrender?"](else-if: $s28 is "True")[“But you did not have the time, and now here you are. And given that you are here, now answer my question. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s29 is "True")[“Perhaps you will still be able to achieve great things, as a subject of the King. But that will all depend on one question. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s30 is "True")[“Political compromise is laudable. Perhaps you will make another compromise and sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s31 is "True")[“Of course you would allow your government to fracture. Weakness is built into the very model of your democratic state. That ends today. All I ask is for you to cave one more time and sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s32 is "True")[“You say ‘of course’, yet I saw nothing in the performance of your men today that would make me believe that any victory of theirs would be guaranteed. But enough of this. I need to know, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s33 is "True")[“Congratulations then, I suppose. I understand that it must be galling to win one war only to lose another one so soon after, but I am afraid I must ask, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s34 is "True")[“A nice vision, but a naive one. Either way, it’s over now. Put it behind you and focus on the future, specifically on the question: will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s35 is "True")[“I see you will not make this easy. Still, I have enough honour to at least give you the chance to make the right move, so I will ask, despite already knowing the answer, will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s36 is "True")[“Your obsession with the base nature of man is not becoming. Ignorance is natural, faeces is natural, barbarism is natural. We have found ways of dealing with all of them. But I do not disagree with your sentiment, and there will be time to talk on philosophy later. For now we should look at a practical question: will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s37 is "True")[“Simple, but more or less true. So if it is natural to wish to survive, then I suppose it would be natural for you to sign a surrender. Will you?”](else-if: $s38 is "True")[“Many animals have been observed sacrificing themselves. There are higher callings, even within nature, than the need to go on. But I should not have expected more from someone who has, by the looks of you, never been a soldier. But enough philosophy. I need to know whether you will sign a surrender."](else-if: $s39 is "True")[“Don’t try to sway me. I do not have time for beggars. Give me something useful. Like say yes when I ask if you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s40 is "True")[“I like a politician who can be direct. True, there may be a comfortable life waiting for you in the Kingdom. But it all depends on whether you will sign a surrender. Will you?”](else-if: $s41 is "True")[“There is nothing more you could have done. Our forces were superior, that is nothing that any politician could have done anything about. Where you could fail your people would be in not signing a surrender. So will you sign?”](else-if: $s42 is "True")[“Yes, you have. They are subjects of the King now. All that remains is for you to complete your failure and sign a surrender. Will you?”](else-if: $s43 is "True")[“I would have expected better from the leader of the Republic, I would have thought that at least //you// would be immune to your own propaganda. True, there are excesses in which you indulge here, and biological facts that you ignore and subvert, but the Kingdom is not nearly as dark as you would think. Well, not now, dark was a poor choice of word, but we are not the villains your press would paint us. But you will believe what you want to believe. Your life is your own to spend or save, all it depends on is the question: will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s44 is "True")[“That is easy enough to say. But let me take the question out of the theoretical, and phrase it another way. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s45 is "True")[“I understand. But you will never be truly free again. One way or another, the King will decide the course of your life. The choice of freedom or not has been decided for you. The choice that remains is comfort or discomfort. And the way to find out the answer to that question is to ask if you will sign a surrender.”](else-if: $s46 is "True")[“I have no intention of torturing you. Why would I? There is nothing I can get from you I cannot get from the Senate, and it is always easier to work on a group than an individual. The worst I have considered doing is killing you. Which brings us to a question. Will you sign a surrender?”](else-if: $s47 is "True")[“Do not think that your awareness of your fate will make it any less enjoyable for me. If anything your fear might improve the experience. But before we get to that, a question, upon which much will depend. Will you sign a surrender?”] (link: "Yes.")[(goto: "Yes, I will surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''6hh'' (link: "No.")[(goto: "No, I won’t surrender.")] If picked, your code is: ''6ii'' [[Only if you guarantee the safety of my people.]] If picked, your code is: ''6jj'' [[What will you give me in return?]] If picked, your code is: ''6kk''

(if: $6hh is "True")[“Yes.” [[Good. That’s all I needed from her, take her away, the King will decide what happens to her after she signs.]] If picked, your code is: ''g21'' [[Good. I don’t make any promises, but, apart from your life, what do you want in return?]] If picked, your code is: ''g22''](else-if: $6ii is "True")[“No.” (link: "The Senate will. They have said as much. But in order for that to happen, you would need to be dead. So. Will you reconsider your answer?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g24'' (link: "The Senate will, then. I do not need you. You there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g25''](else-if: $6jj is "True")[“Only if you guarantee the safety of my people.” (link: "There is no such thing as ‘safe’. There will be rebels, and they will have to be dealt with. But I can promise that civilians will be spared. Will that do? If not, then I should tell you that the Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. If you say no, I will have to give them the power to do what I ask. I will have to kill you. I do not want to, but I will. So, will you sign?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g26'' (link: "No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So, I will ask again. Will you sign a surrender?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g27'' (link: "No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So you there, shoot her.")[(goto: "Shoot her")] If picked, your code is: ''g28''](else-if: $6kk is "True")[“What will you give me in return?” (link: "You would sell out your country for personal gain? You disgust me. I offer you only your life. So, do you accept?")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g29'' (link: "A comfortable house-arrest down in the King’s capital.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g31'' (link: "A title and a place in the King’s court.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g32'' (link: "Money. Large quantities of it.")[(goto: "Ask again.")] If picked, your code is: ''g34'']

{(if: $g15 is "True")[“Then I have no more use of you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $g17 is "True")[“I wouldn’t want to live in your situation either. I shall put you out of your misery. You there, you heard the Dictator, shoot her.”](else-if: $g18 is "True")[“Then you will not live at all. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $g25 is "True")[“The Senate will, then. I do not need you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $g28 is "True")[“No, the King’s justice will be done. The Senate has already agreed to sign an unconditional surrender. I don’t need you. So you there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k1 is "True")[“I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k2 is "True")[“I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k3 is "True")[“”](else-if: $k4 is "True")[“I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k5 is "True")[“No, only the lives on my side are valuable. The others are just threats. Like you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k6 is "True")[“Then I won’t. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k7 is "True")[“I don’t think you’re in a position to be smart with me. There are many in the Senate who could be just as useful to me. After all, they have already said they will sign the surrender. So I don’t need you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k8 is "True")[“Exactly the kind of self-interest I had expected from a woman willing to call herself Dictator of the Republic. I cannot deal with you. For the sake of the Republic, of which I am now custodian, I sentence you to death. You there. Shoot her.”](else-if: $k9 is "True")[“I did not know you were a socialist sympathiser. You have made up my mind for me. The Senate gave me no such impression, and promised to sign a surrender. So I have no need of you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k10 is "True")[“I did not know you were a socialist sympathiser. You have made up my mind for me. The Senate gave me no such impression, and promised to sign a surrender. So I have no need of you. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k11 is "True")[“I see you will not make this easy. So if you will not bother, I will not either. You there, shoot her.”](else-if: $k12 is "True")[“I can respect that. You there. You heard the Dictator. Shoot her.”](else-if: $k13 is "True")[“I am benevolent. You there, the Dictator would prefer to die than live. Shoot her.”](else-if: $k14 is "True")[“Then you leave me no choice. You there, shoot her.”]} The words leave his lips, but the world does not freeze. Time does not even slow. The movement of the soldier lifting his rifle is just as real as all the other millions of events you have witnessed in your life. It isn’t special. It isn’t fair. The dark pit of the barrel faces you and you scream. You have just enough time to be ashamed of that before the bang.

You let out a long sigh as the body is taken away. The city, now that you can look at it as a place rather than as a situation, is beautiful. Garish and alien, with the signs of liberal inequality everywhere you look, but no less great than many of the King’s cities. It is the prize that you have had your heart set on winning since you were a small child. Tomorrow there will be questions of resupply, disarmament of rebels and of how to control the outlying territories. But today, today the city is yours. You have never felt so pleased.

//The sky is dark. A month ago the sun set for the last time. Those who wonder, as everyone has from time to time, can only guess where it has gone. The stars, always bright, are the same. And life goes on, as it must. Even as the winds slowly become colder and the food stores begin to run low, some people see opportunity in the starlight. The King has ordered his troops to march north to restart the war that ended in a stalemate four years ago, a war to retake the breakaway province that has for hundreds of years called itself ‘the Republic’ and its capital city, Alexisgrad.// --- In this two-player piece of interactive fiction, you and your partner will each take on the role of one of the leaders of the two forces vying for control of the city of Alexisgrad. One of you will play as ''the Republic’s newly elected Dictator'', a woman who suddenly finds herself powerless in a city that is crumbling around her, forced to make decisions about liberty or safety; history or future; country or people; survival or duty. The other player will take on the role of ''the King’s army’s General'', a man ready for a fight which it does not seem the Republic is able to give him, appearing to leave him not with the question of ‘whether’ he will take Alexisgrad, but ‘how’ he will take it. Players must follow two very simple rules in order to make sure that the game can be fully enjoyed (and not just break horribly…) 1. ''Each time that you press on a link (the cyan coloured text), your partner must also press on a link.'' That way you will always be at the same part of the story relative to each other. Of course this will mean you will have to be in touch with each other, verbally, over a video call, through an instant chat messaging service, etc. 2. At regular intervals you will be given codes and asked to input codes. You must tell your partner your code and then you must select your partner’s code (which they should tell you). There may be points where your partner gives you a code but the game is not asking you to input one. If this happens, assuming that you have followed rule 1 correctly, then it is safe to ignore it. ''You will never need to remember a code beyond the screen on which you are given it.'' You can go back or forward at any time by pressing the arrows on the left-hand side of the page. You can save your game at any point by simply clicking the ‘save’ button on the left-hand side. It is recommended that you and your partner save your games at the same point. The save will remain safe on your browser until either you clear your browser’s cache or you create a new save. The two sides of this interactive narrative are made to be read independently. Having said that, the game is more of an exploration of narrative than a tactical experience, so if you and your partner want to (and are able to) chat about what you are reading during play, you are encouraged to do so. I promise you, it sounds complicated, but it really isn’t. ''Just take one click for each of your partner’s clicks and share codes whenever the game gives you one.'' Good luck! --- As the citizens of Alexisgrad look out onto the perpetually dark streets of their city, they know that, one way or another, their lives will never be the same again. But will you be their defender, or their conqueror? (link: "I will be the Republic’s Dictator.")[(set: $Alexisgrad = "True")(goto: "Alexisgrad Introduction")] (link: "I will be the King’s General.")[(set: $Kingdom = "True")(goto: "Kingdom Introduction")]

“You can dance around the issue all you like, I am just impressed that even you have finally seen the sense of having an individual authority.” (link:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people, and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")[(goto:"There is a difference between an individual authority, answerable to the people and a despot who is allowed to get away with whatever he wants. What matters isn’t where the power //is//, but where it was derived //from//.")] If picked, your code is: ''7x'' [[Yes, individual authority has many advantages. When the leader is competent. I had to prove that I was. Your King just had to come out of the right womb.]] If picked, your code is: ''7m'' [[You are not wrong. If I had had the time, I could have done great things.]] If picked, your code is: ''7n''

(if: $Kingdom is "True")[(set: $storyStyle to (background: #411515 )) (enchant: ?Page, $storyStyle)](else-if: $Alexisgrad is "True")[(set: $storyStyle to (background: #302109)) (enchant: ?Page, $storyStyle)]

(append: ?Sidebar)[ (link:"Save")[ (if:(save-game:"Slot A"))[Position saved!] (else: )[Sorry, save failed!] ] (if: (saved-games:) contains "Slot A")[(link: "Load")[(load-game:"Slot A")] ] (if: (passage:)'s tags contains "Start")[](else:)[(link: "Restart")[(reload:)]] [[Credits]]]

(set: $b4 = "True") (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[Your code is: ''b4'' Please select your partner's code: (link:"2a")[(set: $2a = "True")(goto: "Lead cavalry charge")] (link:"2b")[(set: $2b = "True")(goto: "Lead cavalry charge")]]

The cavalry line is ready, so you must be too. “This”, you begin, “is the moment that we take the Republic. This is the moment for which your brothers died in the last war. Some of you will be heroes, some will be martyrs. The former will receive medals, the latter a memorial, here on Monarch’s Way when this is once again the second city of the Kingdom. “Now we correct the course of history. For the King!” The riders echo you, and as one, you charge. Nothing for the first few feet, the illusion of flying, the creeping feeling of safety. Then bullets fly past you. The first //thud// as one finds its mark. If there is a scream, human or horse, you do not notice it: such things are distractions. You keep your ears open and eyes constantly moving to take in other things, every other thing. Orders issue from your mouth without you even thinking, a mechanical process of information in, information out that happens semi-autonomously, your conscious brain just flicking through the checklist of positions and what each little change means. Your riders thunder forward, firing from horseback. You are proud of your men, although you will only realise that later, when your mind has space for anything else. A Republican wheels out a cannon. Too late. Your focus narrows further, command falling away as you slam into the line, your sabre flashing one way, ending the cannoneer’s life, then another. The first responsibility that any man has in hand-to-hand combat is his own survival. You wheel your horse back and forth, hacking at bayonets and rifle barrels, only occasionally making it through to the meat, pushing in through the reaching branches and skewering a kill. All in all, it is over quickly. Your legs and left arm, you sword arm, are heavy with blood, but as the red haze clears and you mentally check your body, you realise that none of it is yours. “All clear general.” One of your lieutenants informs you. You nod. No point waiting though. You have initiative, you should push it. You quickly restock the front line - most of the horses dead or dying behind you - and, tired enough to let your subordinates lead the march, you push on towards the Senate building. It’s a large domed structure that was one of the first things built in the city after it was rechristened as Alexisgrad, which makes it one of the oldest buildings in the city and one of the newest in this district. You have no plans, no diagrams, for it, but it is not difficult to find, standing on the site of the old royal palace. Only a token force was stationed outside, and they are dealt with before you even arrive. “The windows are barred. They are expecting us, our reports indicate that they are usually open. //Democracy//.” Bechtholdt rolls his eyes. “There are enough side doors, it should not be difficult to storm.” “Not difficult, but maybe dangerous.” You turn to see Major Pruefer, riding up behind you. “We have no intelligence General, likely they are barricaded inside. We’re in a position of strength sir, easily able to maintain a siege. I would try to bargain, sir.” “Kill them sir. You have the rats in a trap. March in under the King’s flag and butcher the vermin.” Your two advisors, as usual, disagree. But the decision is, ultimately, yours. [[Storm the building.]] [[Surround the Senate, and then set it ablaze.]] [[Lead an infiltration team to capture the Republic’s leaders.]] [[Demand the Senate’s surrender.]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[The Last Night of Alexisgrad A game by Milo van Mesdag] World design by Milo van Mesdag, Angus Barker and Jason Ebblewhite. I would like to thank my editor and biggest supporter, Ro van Mesdag, as well as my playtesters (in no particular order) Tudor Ferariu, Jacob Paterson, AugustusM, Jason Ebblewhite, Angus Barker, Cari Watterton and Scott Simpson. So much thanks to the incredibly talented Angus Barker for providing the best thing about this game: the cover art. Go check him out at (link: "his Instagram")[(goto-url: "https://www.instagram.com/anguspbarker.illustration/")]. Thanks also to Cari Watterton, who made the introduction readable. If you want to not find out what I’m doing, check out (link: "my Twitter")[(goto-url: "https://twitter.com/MiloMesdag")]. I never post.