*A letter sent to the ministries of Colombia and Brazil*
Gentlemen:
that is exactly what we are. gentle men. The task fated us has been to oversee our respective people, and to strive to improve their condition. Sometimes, warfare is necessary to preserve our way of life, this is not contested. But warfare over pride is a sin, a most potent sin indeed. You each believe that Latin America is yours, by divine right and common practice. What you are blinded to is the very fact as a result of these common practices and history: you are brothers. You are Latin. Your people are brothers in Christ. Your two nations are more related than perhaps any other two on the planet. And you brothers plan to die over pride? This is a folly.
Perhaps you shall listen to reason. A great man of my land once said, "we must not, if we are loyal, disperse our energies in a partisan warfare that is waged without regard to its consequences to the well being, security, or honor of the country." A foolish war would bring an end to your very purpose, for none of your citizens would be any the safer by warfare. You would only set back the wave of progress each of your nations deserves.
Because of this, I propose the following: Take a week to mull things over. Then come to Franciscohold for a peace conference. I would not like to see warfare to my south, any more than your people enjoy the prospect. Think of them: think of your sons. Do you wish them to die? Thousands of sons will die if you continue your plans. We must preach peace in this difficult time. We must compromise for the better good.
I hope you reconsider the destructive paths you have each set.
Miguel Francisco
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The land was changing. Even before the Fall, there were never more than ten thousand people in the county. But this is rapidly changing. The Fall radically changed the region, crushing mountains and raising hillsides. Fertile ground was left where once there was rock. As the ice withdraws inch by inch from the border region, settlers follow it like cats do mice. As the holds expanded and grew, so did their people; land is being rapidly eaten by families looking to pull their plows and raise their homes. The only true frontier left is to the north, and thus this is where the people are flooding. HH Berry has added room for over two thousand houses to the city plans for this year. Nortehold is becoming a city not only in name.
"Move your arse, Grant!" the Captain screamed.
"Will do, Sir!" A quick reply, he'll like that. But what a way to break an old man's thoughts. Isn't fifty summers enough time to earn some respect? However, the line was being held up, so perhaps he should pick up the pace a bit. Grant tapped Hosanna's flanks, and the old mare began a brisk trot. A good thing, too; as she could not gallop, the horse was useful for little more than transport. And the springy Lieutenant didn't mind giving up his ride for an old man, an older friend. It also gave him an excuse to mix with the ranks a bit, whose jests Grant did not mind- a saddle is a saddle, and a good thing to have, where they were heading. Klamath Falls: Hell on earth. Supposedly. It's where the patrols
thought the nearest Cannibal settlement was. But the truth would be clear soon enough; by his estimates, Grant was less than a mile from that scent of human waste.
* * *
No. There was no way. What lay before him could not be. The stacks of corpses outnumbered the number of living left, which was no small sum. Half the town was burned, the other half in disrepair. Half-shaped tents hid dirty shadows of men, cretins by the earth, not God. Cannibals. Acts occurred before his eyes which should not be put to the pen. But no matter how demonic the landscape, the truth had been revealed: the Cannibals were there. And there were many of them. Could a fort garrison really destroy this great a force? A modern weaponry does not make victors of a few hundred men, when before them lie thousands of lesser beings. General Custer had made that mistake, and he went to West Point; would the Captain, the son of a farmer, know any better?
Apparently, dirt provides a greater education than any book. The Captain did not charge into the unsuspecting mass of vermin, no; he surrounded them. Encircled them. Broke them. And cut them down. Less than half the garrison was lost, to take down a force five times as large. A terrible price, but an acceptable one, to protect the Californios another day, another month, another year. The Lord only knows how long it takes the devil to spawn his brood. But His forces would be stronger; men would come from the south. If one thing was true these days, men would come from the south.
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OOC: No, I'm not moving an army north. And although this is not my best writing- I am fairly certain I may have made an idiot of myself through some of that grammar- it is still, I hope, an entertaining story.