The Free State of Wuringen was known as the black sheep of Orland, for it was not ruled by hereditary nobles. Formed five decades ago by the reforms of Queen Areya's mother (Queen Alorie) that prioritized technological development, it was originally a special economic zone. However, it was taken over by the once nascent private corporations of men, which had since expanded massively as the technological revolution ramped up for the last eight decades.

Since then, the Free State has turned into an autonomous corporatocracy, centered in Eirhow, and controlled both by the expanding Military-Industrial Complex and the massive tech corporations. It was also here that the Front's power base and the Headquarters of the Army were centered.

The Free State was the shining result of over three centuries of men's never-ending struggle to resist the new order established on the ruins of the old order. While women reigned supreme above, below them, men desperately held on to their previous mindsets, positions, property, rights, and even status, sometimes silently, sometimes violently.

Even to this day, three centuries since, many men kept their competitive, aggressive, calculating, and violent tendencies. Exemplified by the amount of men that owned guns, or joined the Military.

And Heindhöff was no different. In a way, it could be said that he embodied that mindset perfectly.

Especially the mindset that victory would come with a cost, as that was what was always ingrained in the minds of men all over Pollos, especially in the wake of the recent Great War. That victory could only be achieved by blood and guts - and that for every mile inched forward, many men would drop, and that it was inevitable.

And that one should not flinch at the costs. Nor should one flinch from extreme means - lest all those that they had sacrificed would be in vain if they were to be defeated.

The wars had also taught them, and him, another lesson. That the world was one thing for men now - kill or be killed. That if they did not eliminate the enemy, they would be eliminated instead. And the winner would take all.

Just like in the Arcane Wars.

When all nations of the old order, most patriarchal, some egalitarian, all collapsed in the face of women's magic. And men, almost universally, across Pollos, lost.

Victory for us will be bloody indeed. General Heindhöff said to himself. But it is the only path.

While the current order seemed weak and fragile in the face of the technological and industrial revolution, magic was still a potent force. One woman might not take down an armored tank, but three, four, or five armed and trained men or even a full squad of well-trained men - she could. The right combination of spells and tactics could very well allow her to vanquish such a force.

It was why, for the Front, there was only one way. One way for men to succeed while facing such lopsided odds. Through extreme means.

They had gained great military influence and power for now, but time was running out. It could be taken away at any moment, even gradually. The only way for men to redeem their rights then was clear - use the military now. The opportunity was here, and they sure as hell should not let it fizzle.

Thus the National Redemption Front and its bloodthirsty ideals were born. Ideals that were shaped in the minds of the same men who witnessed the Great War and its savagery.

In their mind was one thing. Take power. Terrorize and intimidate them to cause change. Attack. Attack and attack. Their rights had been besieged for three centuries, and they had held the line well, even when the defenses seemed to crack, and many men had fallen. But, they could not simply stay in their trenches forever, hiding like a wuss from their worst nightmares. They needed to climb up and charge at them. It would be the only way to drive them off and win victory on the field.

Like the shock troops or the armored spearheads that broke the enemy once, they now planned to use the same tactics again.

And then they would consolidate. Then, control would be solidified. Most importantly, the final nail to the coffin, they would ban magic. It must be eliminated and purged, once and for all. Only then could men's rights be secured.

Either men would win their rights and eliminate magic, or magic would once again triumph and eliminate their rights.

A world where women had magic, was a world where men would eternally be second-class. The only world where true equality could be achieved would thus be a world devoid of magic. And that could only be achieved in the same way that men had defended whatever measly rights they had left ever since the end of the Arcane Wars, and the same way that they had prevented a complete takeover of the matriarchy.

Through the way of the rifle, and violence.

That was what truly separated the Front from the moderates. For the Front, the Battle for Men's Rights wasn't a simple political and social dance. To them, this was war. A war that would have battles. A war that would spill blood.

No different than the Great War that they had all witnessed.

And a war that if they lost - would be no different to the aftermath of the Arcane Wars.

Men under the boots.

In fact, this would be a mere sequel of the Arcane Wars, when women violently grabbed their position through magic, now it would be men's turn to retake it with technology.

The counter-offensive is about to begin.

And like in the fields of the Great War, men would once again spill their blood on the soil of Pollos - for every inch forward. But this time, they would make their once untouchable female masters bleed too.

But they would still have to fight other men again - those who stubbornly chose to stay loyal to the wrong side.

The door to the conference room opened. Inside were the grim faces of the General Staff. Young men, old men, middle-aged men, they were all men in uniform, with the same serious, and dark expressions. Sixty or seventy years ago, this room would have been filled with women.

Yet the last decades have changed it all.

Thanks for handing us the rope, Queen Alorie. May you rest well up there with your daughter.

The Great War truly was both a tragedy and a blessing to men.

I bet none of them expected that they would have to expand and strengthen us this much just to win their petty war. And those fools think that they could reverse their mistake by asking us to demobilize?

Fools, all of them.

"Gentlemen, may I have your attention?" He asked as they nodded. But one didn't. Heindhöff looked at him, and immediately, the animosity between the two was apparent.

"What is it again Heindhöff?" It was General Victor Albrecht, the staunch leader of the moderate faction in the army. He had so far stayed silent ever since the war ended, but the suspicious operations of the army since the assassination of the Queen had made him all twitchy.

And while Heindhöff would love to deny it, at least half of the army was still neutral. It was peaceful months ago, but now that they had begun their movements, the neutrals were being forced to pick a side.

Either Heindhöff or the Queen.

And they naturally hated it. Especially the moderates.

Worse was the fact that the Queen's reformist attitude seemed to affect them. Her words and policies strengthened the influence of the ORP and the moderates on the ranks of the army.

He expected that the moderates would be an uneasy ally of them, yet it was clear that the differences between the ORP and the NRF had expanded.

It seemed that he would need to slow down for now and gain support once more.

"We need to discuss the issue that we face. Our friends at the Parliament are once again accusing us of arming the Civil Defense Militia. I need a report on the missing stockpiles-"

"Missing stockpiles my arse, General." He spat back. While General Albrecht was no politician, for he fancied himself as an apolitical officer in his career, he could smell bullshit from a distance. He knew that Heindhöff was sending a message to everyone - that he was about to do something drastic, and that they better side with him.

"Is this another one of the treasonous designs of yours? Let me tell you, if you think that whatever you are doing would intimidate and convince me to join you, you a wrong."

The General Staff remained silent. Many looked angrily at Victor, but some joined him. The rest however remained with an uneasy, neutral expression, as they wisely chose to stay out of the arguments.

"General, do keep your mouth shut if you have no evidence, please." He replied coldly, and the man stayed silent.

The meeting proceeded as usual, and for now, politics wasn't bought up. Yet it was clear that the lines of division were showing up. Nearly half was with Heindhöff, and some were with Victor, but the rest stayed neutral. When Heindhöff exited, he met up with Alfonso Bluch, who waited for him in a private meeting room.

The two had beer for a while before they began talking about the matters at hand.

"So, how's the Royal Guard doing?"

"Fuckers almost caught some Unit Eighteen members." He shook his head. "Close call, but my agents took care of it."

"Good, fucking good, because things aren't looking well for us now."

"At the very least, I'm also causing a schism in the Navy."

Heindhöff smiled. Slowly but surely, they had been growing the support base of the radicals both in the Navy and the Air Force.

Both senior and junior ranked officers, many of whom had resentments to the crown, were slowly being bribed or even blackmailed in extreme cases by the OIA to force them into Plan O.

"I've just had word from Admiral Rudolf of the 4th Fleet," Alfonso added. The 4th Fleet wasn't particularly large, except for the fact that its flagship was the new and modern ONS Matriarch. "He's in. Once the Army rose up, he would send the 4th Fleet to blockade Halia. The Queen or the Parliament would be unable to escape."

"That's good." But still, complications existed. What of the rest of the Military? Would they really stay out or join them should a coup attempt occur?

Not to mention, their preparations weren't complete. It would take them at most, one year, or even one year and six months to fully prepare the weapons stockpiles, logistics, and communication lines, and organize the units involved silently.

Plots with such a scale naturally took time, and if they were found out, it would be another setback.

"The elections?"

Alfonso scoffed. "No chance, the ORP would win most of the male voters. Still, United Orland would most likely win the majority in June. We, men, are just too badly outnumbered after the Great War."

"But I know that something is happening in United Orland too, right?"

"Indeed, Her Majesty's policies are now fracturing the ladies." He smiled in satisfaction. "Even they are not a United force. United Orland's liberals and moderates currently have stayed supportive of the reforms, but the Archduchess' conservative faction is growing more irate."

"The Archduchess, huh? Miss Dubois is definitely one of our main enemies, but could we possibly use her?"

"Divide and conquer?"

"Yes, exactly."

The Director smiled, interested in the idea. This was where he was good at, sowing chaos and division.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

+++

Löt, the largest principality in Orland, had been ruled by House Dubois ever since its founding. Unlike the economic and industrial powerhouses of Halia, Rebenslof, or more disgustingly, as per Pristina's perspective, that abomination that was Eirhow, Löt, and Thein was more of a cultural center of Orland, and the powerbase of the conservative aristocracy.

And she was proud of it.

Here, the Royal Corporations, and their magical industries thrived. Here, the prestigious magical schools operated as a dominant force. Here, the cities were not soulless industrial hellscapes of high rises and factories. For this was the land for women - a peaceful, clean, and ideal utopia.

"Your Majesty, you are wrong," Pristina said, now without fear of the Queen. Absolute and direct, she wanted to make it clear to her, that no, she was wrong.

As for Amelie, the days of politeness were over, not after what she witnessed, and especially not after Pristina's insolence when she denied her request again and again.

Amelie paid her a visit today, aiming to address the heavy-handed approach of the Royal Guard. She was even more particularly pissed today after she witnessed another riot that was brutally suppressed by the Royal Guard in another city while she was traveling toward Thein.

"Pristina, look. If you continue doing this whenever a riot occurs, we'd just see more extremists on the streets-"

"So what? You think men would become less extreme if we caved in?" Pristina was raised with one belief in this topic. That men were evil.

Barbaric.

Violent.

Sub-human.

It was no wonder that they had no magic, she thought. Those cretins did not deserve it. Nor would such creatures be able to use such power responsibly.

But Amelie had a different view on the matter.

"Cave in? Please, that's not how anyone should describe a much more humane approach to these riots, and my reforms."

"Reforms. The most disgusting idea of them all." She looked at her, as she raised her voice. "Not only are you giving them votes, you are also giving them too much power. When are you demobilizing them?"

The Queen backed a bit. That damned criticism had been used again and again by the conservatives against her and her supporters. Just the simple fact that they had utterly failed in their demobilization efforts had greatly discredited her legitimacy.

It's not like I enjoy it!

"No, I can't yet. If I force them now, the country would devolve into chaos."

"Then when? When, Your Majesty, would you do what must be done?"

"When it's appropriate-"

"Then you are making the same mistake as your mother did. She said that she would dismantle them once it's over." Her expression didn't change. "Now look at her. Dead, shot dead."

Amelie felt her blood boil at Pristina. How dare she? To tell her that she was wrong, for doing the right thing? It's not like she would be the one being shot if she forced the military to demobilize with the current situation.

And what insolence. She even dared to compare her to her mother.

"Look, you are wrong here. I am different. I didn't, and I won't send them to hell like she did. And I'm changing this country." She smiled as if taunting her. "Soon, they will love me. They will defend me. They will be with me."

"They won't be."

"Stop it, Pristina, I'm done playing these games. Or do I have to issue a Royal Decree for it?" Amelie said, now thoroughly pissed as Pristina continued denying her requests with so many excuses.

Excuses that said men are evil. That they were all traitors. That they must be crushed for the stability of the state. That they must be repressed, utterly.

She hated her. She represented the centuries-old problem that had led to this. And her past shame, of thinking much like her. It reminded her of what she felt...and what she continued to feel about men even when she tried to suppress it.

Hatred.

Demonization.

Disgust.

A group of people, that had many innocent, good citizens, that were forced to extreme means precisely because of people like her.

To Amelie, what men like Heindhöff or Bluch would do was reprehensible. Savage, uncivil, and downright evil. Yet, she could somehow understand why when she looked at the eyes of Pristina, or at herself, and the many aristocrats with her.

She heard tales of how men treated women before magic came to be. As objects, slaves, and other worse nightmares that no woman would thankfully go through today.

But Pristina, she was somehow even worse, Amelie thought. Because when she looked at her eyes, it was almost as if she viewed men not as fellow humans.

But orcs. Rats. Or insects. Almost as if she wanted to exterminate them if she could.

For years, she thought extremists only festered in the ranks of men. But...all this time, it had existed here too.

That's why...I must prove to them. Not all women are like her. That we could work together. And that...there's no need to fight us.

Pristina looked so sour when she spoke.

"...I see. Then I shall follow your will, Your Majesty. I will lessen the Royal Guard's heavy-handed policy."

"Good. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dubois."

"You too, Your Majesty."

It was not.