Rebenslof, Kingdom of Halia

Walter Plock ended his fiery speech on the crowds of gathered workers of Rebenslof. Today, a hundred thousand men gathered for a rally with the Orlish Republican Party (ORP) and the Confederation of Orlish Unions (COU).

Already, most men would vote for his party in the Free Confederation of Westlauren, which included Rebenslof. Many women even switched sides, as the United Orland Party took a massive hit in their public approval in the wake of the so-called "Black Monday" crash.

To many, the UOP-led Parliament and Cabinet had failed too much. The war, the crash - and now this.

He walked down from the podium as his hand waved to the workers that cheered him.

Yesterday, as the layoffs and business closures ravaged his city, the Confederation of Orlish Unions - the main worker's union of Orland, contacted him and the ORP leadership.

This day, a General Strike had been announced across all of Orland, as the Orlish government failed to address their demands.

Their demands three days ago? An immediate economic stimulus for every worker laid off, regardless of gender. But it didn't arrive.

Not for men, no. Women however received generous funds to weather the storm.

But for them? Jackshit, even the businesses themselves joined the General Strike. Businesses owned by men didn't receive any bailouts or stimulus packages, no, and they were now closing one after another as they struggled to stay solvent.

One by one, they dropped like flies, as their liquidity vanished.

And since male-owned businesses employed most men - the result was inevitable. Mass unemployment for men.

Once again, the air of bitterness filled the hearts of Orlishmen nationwide.

"I'm really sorry, Plock." Countess Jacqueline Heiss, also the leader of the COU, Minister Heiss' sister, and even the leader of the liberal faction of the United Orland Party (UOP) said as she followed him down the podium. She slightly fidgeted while she explained her reasons to him.

"I asked them to join the strike, but…they just didn't. Well, some did, but-"

"No need to explain, Jacqueline." He walked even faster, as he tried to get away.

For the past months, the liberal faction of the UOP had tried to sway the ORP to a possible coalition government, as its conservative members threatened to split. Like the Queen, they promised much to men, in the hopes of gaining their alliance and support.

But, it was clear as day. They had failed them once again.

When the General Strike was declared, Jacqueline invited liberal women to also join with men in the strikes. Many did attend it, but it was mostly academics and some overly passionate women who preached deathly for equality.

But for the majority, their participation was muted. It made sense, they already got their lovely government support.

But to add salt to the injury, many MPs of the UOP "liberals" reluctantly voted in favor of Economic Minister Heiss' measures. Measures that deliberately sacrificed many male-owned businesses and workers that were men, in order to prioritize the recovery of the Royal Corporations, and sectors dominated by women.

Naturally, Walter felt like they were stabbed in the back, once again.

"I'm just…damn it." The two continued their walk down the streets, but Jacqueline chased him.

He looked back at her, with his furrowed brows. She flinched, yet she pressed on.

"Look, I know why you're angry. But please don't lose faith yet."

"You've said that a hundred times. Yet look at your party. Your conservative members are literally making speeches to forfeit our voting rights." He looked back at the crowd for a few seconds, as Jacqueline fell silent. "Even half of your faction voted for that damned bill."

He sighed.

"I don't know anymore. Do you even care about us? Do you? Or do you not? Because, with this, I don't think many men would find this message well." He looked back at her, while she struggled to look at his eyes. "Even you 'liberals' are feeding the NRF's message. Perhaps they are right."

"No." She suddenly grabbed his hands, and looked at his eyes, pleadingly. "Please, just listen. The Queen, Amelie herself, she's coming here, to meet with us."

"Oh, Amelie, Amelie, and then the Queen this, the Queen that, and then the Queen this. Look, I'm tired. You 'reformists' love to use her as some sort of example that you women care. Where is she then?"

"Today, in Meintz Hotel. I'm so sorry for this, but trust me, we'll fix this together." She seemed desperate. "Plock, please, if we lose you and the ORP, I don't think Orland will have a future."

She looked up at him, and she forced a tiny smile. Yet her quivering eyes betrayed her. She feared - feared that the ORP would turn to the NRF.

Jacqueline had tried desperately, with all her power, to prevent a complete breakdown of the Orlish society. She could not allow this, lest men and women would completely be at each other's throats.

How would a nation survive, or humanity itself survive if such a scenario fully unfolded? To Jacqueline, it was an existential crisis.

"Please?"

Walter shook his head slowly, but he conceded. Perhaps, this time, it would be true. But, no matter, if it wasn't, it would not surprise him.

"Then try harder not to lose us, Countess. Our patience is running thin."

+++

Amelie had seen much on her way to Meintz. The crowds that yelled. The closed stores. The fires on the streets. The posters that called men to strike. The tear gas and riot police. The broken windows and burning cars. She even saw a half burnt "revolutionary" bicolor that flew weakly atop the ruins of wooden barricades on the highway.

Gray atop white, with the gold gone - the bicolor of the most extreme of men, of the NRF, their worshiped alternative to the royal tricolor. Inscribed on it was, in bold red, "Death to Her Maj-"

She looked away and focused on the document that she was reading.

When she left the car, she smelt smoke in the air. There was a riot nearby, and she could still hear the loud bangs a few blocks away. Her heart sank, just as her eyes fell on a poster plastered en masse on a pole lamp.

It was a stylized depiction of a black cat illuminated by red lighting, and written in bold letters on it was, "GENERAL STRIKE!"

No wonder, the Orlish economy almost stopped overnight.

And then, more ominously, the posters that asked, "Which side are you on?"

No wonder the disunity and chaos.

Rebenslof…the most prosperous Orlish city, now, under my rule, is on fire. What a failure I am…

She even caught a faint pepper-like odor on her nostrils, and she almost felt like her eyes were burning.

What is that?

"Your Majesty, we need to go in, quick." William's words abruptly interrupted her musings.

She nodded, and she walked quickly toward Meintz Hotel.

A familiar feeling of coldness seeped into her skin as she entered the room, and she tried to subtly breathe deeper to calm her nerves. No, it wouldn't do for the Queen to be this weak, she reminded herself.

Every ally that she could identify, she had gathered here today. Today, she would finally act truly as a Queen.

She looked at all of them. The party leader of the ORP, the leader of the moderate faction of the General Staff, the Admiral of the 2nd Fleet, the CEO of PHI and the speaker of the Rebenslof Group, the leader of the Worker's Union and the UOP, and her other friends, they all stood here in this room today.

Attention was on her the moment she arrived, with eyes locked on her as all of them stood from their seats.

She cleared her throat.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologize for the abrupt summons here." She paused and looked at each of them. "But the Kingdom needs you all. We are in great peril. That's why you're all gathered here. Today, all of you are free to speak. To point out every mistake that I and this nation made. And we shall discuss measures, however bitter they are, to save it."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Would it really be needed? She was the Queen, not some-

No, shut up brain.

She lowered her head. A small gasp came from the women in the room, while the men were stunned silent.

"Please!" She cried out. "Save my, no, our Kingdom!"

"Y-your Majesty!" Another young woman, who she recognized as Jacqueline Heiss, said, flushed. "There's no need for that. Of course, we shall manage this crisis. Please raise your head."

That so? Okay.

She slowly raised her head back and looked at them again. Her heart rate rose as the silence dragged on.

"Well, I'll be damned." A gruff remark came from the back. He was middle-aged, donned in the Orlish Army's brown officer's uniform, with many medals attached to his chest. "So you really do care, just as William told me. Allow me to introduce myself then. I'm General Victor Albrecht. The Lion of The Western Front, or The Butcher of Ten Million Men. It depends on who you ask."

He smirked with the confidence of a General that had seen a hundred battles as he bowed. Amelie subtly placed her hands on her back as she gave him a thin smile. This man was infamous after all, for he ordered the massive chemical attack on the enemy just a year ago when the Ivory Alliance launched their final offensive.

In just the first day of his offensive, a million on both sides were dead, as the Ivory Alliance broke through the enemy lines.

Thus was his title. The Butcher.

Still, the man was the closest to a moderate in the General Staff.

Remember, he's your friend, Amelie.

"I am in your service, Your Majesty."

Damn, he looks like he could kill me if he wanted to. Ugh, military men.

"Thank you, Sir Albrecht."

All of them soon sat and began their meeting. One by one, everyone began their introductions.

"Hey everyone, I'm Marie Wittfield. Royal Investigations Unit," said Marie with a cheerful tone, and then she smiled brightly at Amelie.

"Albert Ludendorf here. I'm just here with Halder." Said her brother monotonously as he raised his hand. Amelie sighed inside, every time he spoke, she would almost always die of boredom consistently. She looked at him, and she expected more.

His eyes said no.

Her eyes said yes.

He was defeated.

"...Fine, I command the ONS Rebenslof."

The white-uniformed Admiral chuckled beside him.

"Don't worry, he's just pissed that his ship is still stuck at port. Anyways, I'm Admiral George Halberd, 2nd Fleet. The Navy sends its regards, Your Majesty."

Followed by an old man that wore round glasses. The speaker of the Rebenslof Group himself.

"I'm Michael Rudolph, CEO of Rebenslof Steel and the speaker of the Rebenslof Group…or at least, until we go bankrupt."

He still seems depressed. What a downer.

She looked at Well, who was sitting beside Michael.

"Ah, well, my turn I guess. I'm Well Porter. The CEO of Porter Heavy Industries. If you need weapons, just ask. As long as you pay us, of course."

I need a lot of weapons, certainly.

Amelie looked at William, who stood behind her.

"Do I really need to?" He was just his glorified bodyguard anyways!

She nodded. His face disapproved of it.

"Ah, whatever. I'm Major William Porter, 16th Armored Battalion."

Can you be a bit less dull next time? I swear, you two…

She looked back, away from William, and certainly not at Albert, as another one raised her hand. She looked at her, and immediately Jacqueline averted her gaze but looked back at her sheepishly.

Damn, why do every young woman worship me?

"I am Countess Jacqueline Heiss. Chairwoman of the United Orland Party - and the Confederation of Orlish Unions, Your Majesty."

"Don't worry, Jacqueline. I don't bite."

Jacqueline gulped.

Beside her, a man in his thirties looked at Amelie with narrowed eyes. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward.

"I'm Walter Plock. Founder and chairman of the Orlish Republican Party. Let me get this straight. What do you want from me, Queen?"

I think I now prefer being addressed as 'Your Majesty'.

"Hey, at least have some respect, Walter-"

"Shut up, Jacqueline."

"No worries. I don't expect respect today." Jacqueline looked at Amelie, extremely apologetic for his behavior. But Amelie understood why. It was on his party's name, 'Republican'. And her government betrayed him and his constituents.

It was only natural.

Walter waited patiently.

"Mr. Plock, what I want, is your and your party's cooperation, to save Orland."

"And why would I?"

Amelie came prepared for this. While she knew she would receive flak from the conservatives, and Minister Weiss, ultimately she was the Queen.

And with her executive powers, if she wanted something, it would happen.

"I'm going to rewrite the bill so that the budget covers men too."

"Yeah, so wh-"

"And Jacqueline, you will kick out the conservative faction of your party. Anyone who would refuse to vote for my revised bill and my reforms." A small gasp came from Jacqueline, while Amelie smiled at Plock. Michael also perked up in the background. "So are you with me, Mr. Plock?"

"Wait, wait, I'm not even sure if the party would accept a coalition."

"But if you don't, you won't have a seat in the next government."

It was true, even if the UOP splits between its liberal wing and its conservative wing, the ORP would still have 0 chance of winning the elections.

But worse, if they do not form a coalition under such conditions, there would be a weak reformist minority government. A disaster for all of Orland.

Or…he could accept a coalition, and form a grand majority of moderate politicians.

Amelie looked at his eyes intensely. She needed this badly, for this gamble to pay off. She needed that reformist government, no matter the cost.

The only way for her to fix her nation, and win the civil war, is unity. Unity between the moderates and liberals - to face the extremists that aimed to tear her beloved Kingdom apart.

The pain her subjects suffered, she vowed to end it. But she needed them too. She needed their support and cooperation, for no Queen could bring change, without those below her.

"Is this what you really want?"

"Yes. I will beg you if I have to. Please."

How could he even deny such an advantageous deal and those eyes…

For once, he could see it. It wasn't like the eyes of Queen Areya, who merely promised but never cared.

No, she cared. And he could see it. Perhaps, she indeed was the hope of the nation, of both men and women.

A Sovereign that cared.

"I see…it's a deal then, Your Majesty."