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Bonn walked the Palace halls as the night was at its fullest, a bat with spikes embedded in it he gripped tightly. Not needing sleep meant Bonn could patrol the Palace freely at any hour. Granted, the massive Guard contingent within the Palace and its complex could also do that for him- but he preferred taking his- and Camila's security into his own gloved hands. Bonn usually was lax about security. After all, what were people gonna do; shoot him? Bonn didn't exactly have to concern himself with food, drinks, health, and especially now- sleep- given it was about 1 in the morning (Bombperial Standard Time).

Bonn had ordered a nightly lockdown on the Palace 'afterhours', not out of fear for him- but for Camila's safety. Being a human, Bonn figured that a knife through her chest wasn't something she could shrug off like he could. And after reports- (some bogus, but mostly true) of Anchovyne assassins coming to "take revenge for their Empress Mairene" attempting to and even succeeding in taking down a few Bombperial leaders, celebrities, and critically- officers- Bonn worried that an Anchovyne 'Stinger' might take Camila's life- or if they were feeling real ugly- take Camila and hold her hostage. Either or, the situation between the Bombpire and the Domain wouldn't look all that great if the Queen (and highly respected religious figure) was found dead in Bombperial custody, regardless of outside forces. That and Camila was one of the few people in his inner circle he tolerated more than a conversation with- even if she was mute.

Bonn gripped the spiked bat harder as he walked into the side-wings of the Palace. He'd been in a few scuffles and skirmishes before. Being mostly invincible and then combined with his early political career- Bonn knew how fast close quarters could turn nasty- at least for the other guy.

Bonn chuckled to himself as he remembered his first fight, he swung the bat carelessly as he narrowly avoided batting a poor Guard on patrol. That first fight was what started it all. Beating up some shitwack Senator from the city who'd come on tour of the first town he remembered. He remembered it well- the taunting Senator, the talk of higher taxes out in the boonies, and the vague but clearly-meant statements about 'the city's better you unwashed barbarians'. The fight wasn't even with the Senator. He went down in 1 punch. It was his aides that was the fighting now that he remembered it-

*splat splat*

Either the pipes were unusually leaky, his memories either were more visceral, or-

*Splat Splat*

Footsteps.

Bonn's wick sparked- paranoia set in, granted, some idiot could've just walked into a wet puddle-

*SPLAT SPLAT*

*THUMP*

Bonn definitely heard that. It was close as well.

Bonn spun around. The Guard he nearly wacked with the bat was now slumped over on the ground as cloaked figure stood out. He didn't need to see its ugly face to immediately pick up what it was. An Anchovyne, holding a blade in one webbed hand, and the other hand a cloth stained with some sort of knockout chemical that was quickly disposed of. Its disgusting fish-stench emanated throughout the hall as the lights flickered. Like normal brain-dead fish these assassins- at least from what he read travelled in 'schools'. The lights began to flicker as he heard more wet 'slaps' from across the Palace. The lights dimmed and the Stinger dashed forward, its webbed feet gave away where it was.

Bonn ran forward with his spiked bat as the sparking wick hissed and rushed the Anchovyne as the lights began to flicker back to life. The Stinger tried to dodge and strike Bonn, to little avail. Its butterfly knife did little but tear Bonn's clothes, and punching the bomb did little but sprain its webbed fists. Bonn meanwhile took swings, missing or at the least grazing the assassin. A small tear in cloak here, a cut there. Both took another swing at one another. The Stinger sliced downwards trying to anticipate and strike the bat, Bonn however swung it in half a circle at chest-height allowing it to-

*CRACK*

The bat connected and it connected true. Whoever that fish was, truly became chowder as Bonn took the bat out from the fishes torso, fresh green blood coated the bat and the carpet as Bonn ran down the hall and towards Camila's room. Formality and cleanliness died the second he saw that walking pile of fish-sticks. Bonn ran down the corridors swearing like Ahab and Greens in the same room as he barreled through the labyrinthine palace. What was designed to confuse and put off potential sieges, rebellions, and incursions within and around the Palace became detrimental, turning constant corners and moving up several flights of stairs slowed Bonn down.

Bodies of Guards became more common all the while the occasional fish standing and gloating over the Guards bodies, quickly dispatching and clobbering every fish he saw with the spike-bat.

"Camila! Camila!" Bonn ran in silence waiting for an answer before stopping suddenly in his tracks and smacked his head in stupidity. "Camila's a mute. Idiot!" Bonn resumed running, however as he approached Camila's room more and more Anchovyne Stingers lay in front of him. The shouts and noisy takedowns caused them to be alert of his presence, ironically slowing him down more as he got closer, fortunately a bat with spikes being swung by a bomb tends to win more often than small fish knife carried by fish people. At some point during the mad dash the assassins stopped caring about being assassins and turned into a gang of hooligans, rushing to shank Bonn as he clobbered through them and made his way to Camila's room only to stop short in the hallway where her room was.

The door was open, Bonn rushed to the open doorway to look for a body only to find it empty. . .

"Fffuuu-"

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-=Fry Those Filthy Fish!=-
The Anchovynes have infiltrated and ransacked the Grand Palace! They've made a fool of my rule, my stuff, my Palace! And whatever they've done with the Queen they'll fucking get a thousand fold! Even after Empress Mairene's death she still bewitches me that foul she-sea-devil! What those soon-to-be fillets have done to my Palace and whatever they've done with Camila; I'll see to it that any Anchovyne successor state, puppet or not is shattered and broken like a ship in a storm! Ahab can have whatever loot he wants from the Imperium! All I ask is thier heads on a silver platter!
(One option from each for a three course meal of pain, humiliation, and destruction!)

-Scumbags and Assholes-
I don't care how foul and filthy they are, the Anchovynes deserve it all!

Buying Our Way In n' Out- Richport and the League of Tierra Firme are the 'honest' powers of the Southern Caroblind Sea. Being experienced naval powers, donating sailors, equipment, and a few ships in exchange for a hefty sum of gold, silver, and the Bombpire's own money. Hopefully this 'southern front' can distract Anchovyne loyalists by forcing them to commit to another costly and far-off front.
(These little merchant republics will be drafted into our war for a small sum of money, albeit being rather autonomous in thier war efforts. This can however show the world the Bombpire is open to 'diplomacy'.)

Destroyers and Bases, Oh My!- New-von-land, an island famed for its fisheries and natural ports will be convinced to loan us a few ports and dock facilities for our war against the Anchovynes and allow us to strike down from the north. And hey- while we're on the island, we could also convince the remaining little statelets up here that Bombperial suzerainty isn't such a bad idea afterall.
(New-von-land loans a few ports for the duration of the war- if not longer depending on how well we can butter them up. Next Episode will see the Bombpire engaged in a small diplomatic game trying to convince the small northeastern statelets to join the Bombpire- or at least become puppets.)

Zombie Slaves For Bulk- The Voodoom Lords- less a 'country' and more a pile of rotten 'necromancers' and pirates. But if there is one thing they're eager for- is a chance to take a whack at the Anchovynes. Being the rotten pile they are, the Voodoom have been raided and razed by the Anchovynes before, mainly for religious reasons, but on occasion the need of slaves. The 'zombies' are rather good slaves for the Anchovynes, brainless, unquestioning, and surprisingly very strong.
(The Bombpire will manufacture a long-term deal with the prominent Voodoom Lords and purchase a few stocks of 'zombies', and heck we may even invite them to join the war against the Anchovynes. Perhaps some 'fish zombies' might entice the more creative Voodoom Lords.)

-The Disorganized Popularity-
The biggest problem with the A.P.F. is that it *is* popular. Wretched democracy.

Rally 'Round the Rebel Flag- The Anchovyne forces under our loyalty are disparate and messy organization, we should press this advantage and allow the Anchovyne nobles greater autonomy over the regions they control. We could always claim the rebellious monarchy is simply a 'regency' and make a few concessions to the ruling nobles in exchange for a few nobles. Besides, its only for a regency. A more 'permanent regency'.
(The Anchovyne Popular Front will turn into the Anchovyne Confederation, a 'regency-in-waiting' that will be under the control of local nobility and the clergy. A loose confederation of the most powerful upper-class will be established as the regency.)

The Disgraced Sister-in-Law- Dolphine II, sister-in-law of Mairene and now most legitimate member of the royal family following her sisters 'unfortunate' demise. A more 'traditionalist' royal than Mairene, but more willing to open up to Bombperial ideas and suggestions than the rest of the family. No help from us of course, we are merely bankrolling and supporting her campaign to become Empress.
(The Anchovyne Imperium will change little in the way of its power structure and Empress Dolphine will be a wonderful 'ally' of the Bombpire once she assumes the true throne. Of course while she is semi-legitimate, there was a reason she was not selected to be the heir to the throne and not the one with a harpoon through her head and if she knows what's good for her, that same harpoon won't be going through her head.)

A Prickly Picking- A rather rotund fish by the name of Jacqoral 'the Urchin', was a minor and uncaring noble in most Anchovyne power struggles has now seemingly sprung to life to take his 'rightful place' on the throne. Apparently Jacqoral was ruling statesman of the Imperium (of course as a regent, but lets not crush his spirit yet) and has spent majority of his life in the shadows since then and has offered 'his services' in exchange for helping put him on a throne.
(Being a former statesman is a plus, regent or not, someone with experience in navigating the Anchovyne system is helpful in post-conquest occupation. And hey, if people hate 'the Urchin' we can always support another would-be has-been.)

An Admiral's Wench- Ahab Benjamine has with him an 'equal' within the Anchovyne traitors. A notorious 'pirate queen'. An outlaw busted out of a maximum-security borehole has now become the leading figure of the A.P.F. armed forces- "Salacia". Leading multiple hit-and-run tactics against larger Anchovyne fleets and 'militias' she has garnered attention even from Ahab himself.
(Co-ruling the Popular Front, and then the Imperium as scallywag and scallywench, the Imperium will be turned into a stratocracy, a 'mutually beneficial' union between Bombpire and Imperium. This may encourage other dumbasses to start thier own filibuster campaigns however. Looking at you Adams. Then again, free conquest is free conquest.)

Who Else But ME?- Bonn B. Bombley, ruler of the Bombpire, technically co-ruling the Domain of Death with Camila, and soon-to-be ruler of the Plains. What's but another title under my belt? Besides, as one last insult to the sea-bitch I'll run her 'Imperium' as the next set of Zones within the Bombpire. Glory to Bonn B. Bombley! First of his name! Master of Land and Sea!
(The Bombperor shall be the official monarch of the Imperium. Obviously since I can't rule in two places at once, it'll be fairly more autonomous than other Zones and a small board of advisors and lackies will run in my stead. Glory to the Bombperor! Glory to ME!)

-Amazing Work Admiral-
Now sink the rest of the Imperium's fleet! They cannot be allowed onto land or get off the sea floor!

Plunder and Pillage!- The Anchovynes deserve to have nothing! Not even the crumbs of seaweed they farm, the rocks they carve into bricks, nothing, nothing, NOTHING! For too long they've stolen from the Bombpire, for too long they've taken rightful Bombperial property and people! And with the disappearance of Camila, we'll steal every thing that is or isn't nailed down!
(Empty cargo freighters will be given to the Navy, I want everything! Every last little thing you can see and then steal! And I mean everything! Priceless artifacts, religious icons, tables, cloth, EVERYTHING! And all this loot shall be allowed to be 100% kept by the Navy.)

Whips, Chains, and Nets!- Apparently the Imperium cannot seem to get it through its soft cartilage skulls that the Bombpire is something that is not to be messed with, most importantly my Palace! So let me elaborate. Enslave and enforce the Imperium's population to our will. Any territory gained by the Navy shall be put under Bombperial law and under Bombperial garrison, we may also be willing to take some 'lucky prisoners' to the mainland.
(The Bombpire will extract a small 'tithe' from occupied territory and expropriate it back to the mainland. Just as Anchovyne sailors destroyed precious Bombperial cargo and ships- now Anchovyne slaves will make up for thier past transgressions.)

Bring Back the Queen!- Ahab, I've a very special job for you. Find and locate Queen Camila before the Anchovynes do Fuse-knows what with her or the Domain's starts taking back its promises. Negotiating those mining rights in the northern provinces took some very heavy lifting on the Bombpire's part, and Queen Camila had helped ease the pains of such a negotiation, promising further land grants and favorable tariffs.
(Ahab's personal squadron will go out and look for the Queen. And hopefully take care of the rest of the Anchovyne leadership. Of course we would also like it Ahab, if she was brought back alive and in one piece.)

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"Fffuuu-"

The room was empty, no sign of a body or even a struggle anywhere bar rose petals that lay scattered along the ground.

Bonn tried looking for any clues as to where the assailants went, peaking out the door he spotted a small trail of petals leading out the door and further down the corridor. Bonn sprinted after the trail. The petals becoming more and more sporadic but still consistent. The lack of fish in his way told him that the last fish left alive in the Palace- if they were in the Palace were the kidnappers. Bodies of Guards still littered the ground, slumped and hunched over as Bonn followed the trail of petals.

Stopping to think at an intersection, Bonn stopped to collect his thoughts, the lights continued to flicker as he spotted one of many 'emergency' switches. In case of events like this, the Palace was rigged to alert nearby Guards and other units that the Palace was under some form of attack. Bonn hit the switch, he figured the Anchovyne Stingers if they were out of the Palace couldn't be far, though as he looked at the quickly sporadic trail of petals and little bits of torn cloth, whoever or whatever took Camila weren't exactly in the Palace. If they'd been able to cripple the Palace's garrison so quickly and easily, they likely weren't within its walls, but hopefully he thought- somewhere on its complex, but Bonn doubted that.

He kept running through the Palace, following the trail as it became harder and harder to follow. Going further down into the Palace, below the basement, into the underground tunnel complex used 'just in case of situations like these' and finally further down, Bonn found the end of the trail at a grate that led into the old world sewers beneath the Palace.

Now the pieces fit together. They'd managed to evade all of the security systems of the Palace and take it down from the inside by literally swimming through a near-unknown part of the Palace's infrastructure and crippling it from below. The fucking sea-devils, leave it to them to implement submarine-esque tactics even on land. Of course this did likely mean that any such runaway fish took Camila with them down through the sewers, and almost guaranteed into the ocean.

Bonn would have a quick word with the engineers of the Palace and Mitt later about this. But all he could do for now was close the grate and return to his office. If they'd taken Camila, what else could they've taken? . .

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-=What's Been Lost to the Sea?=-
Those filthy fish-mongers likely took something of great importance from the office. If they'd be willing to swim through miles of old world shit, they likely could bust down a mahogany door. But what was it they took?
(The Anchovynes took something important while we haven't lost it- the fact they now also have it is concerning.)

The Maps and Charts- Sites of the old world's technological hubs, research facilities, and weapons stockpiles. The Anchovynes now have a detailed list of old-world loot. Getting the loot would either turn the war into a stalemate, or even if they were too late to save thier precious Imperium, could spell trouble for us later down the line and make any puppet state or occupation turn into an even bigger nightmare than it already will be.
(The Bombpire and the Anchovynes will now have a 'cold conflict' over old world bases and depots. Regardless if the war is won or not, these fish-mongers will be a nuisance to us now that they'll have access to potential new technologies, or copying old technology.)

Codes for Electronics- GRID, Gilgamech's surviving software, all of the Bombpire's sensitive electronics, from computer servers, radio and television, and so much more are under potential threat from Imperium hackers, or forbid- if they decide to sell it to other 3rd parties, we could be blackmailed by other countries. I need to call Mitt right away and get him and the eggheads on the know-how immediately!
(The Bombpire will suffer from a massive electronic blackout, reverting to more 'mechanical' machinery and primitive forms unable to be compromised by rouge hackers and passwords. The Bombpire's electronics will return, but we need to make sure our 'digital' and 'electronic' empire are safe first.)

The Shit-List- There was a personal and confidential list of all the Bombperial officials and politicians I despise. Incompetent rubes, extra greedy taxmen, the true dregs of the government and I'd planned on sacking them if not ordering most of them shot dead or removed otherwise through 'mysterious circumstances'. However if the Imperium has that list, win-or-lose in this war we may have a slight problem with the more despised officials.
(This will likely lay the seeds of massive civil unrest or at worst- Bombperial civil war. Though in the long-run the Imperium may do us a favor.)

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Bonn ran to his office to also find the mahogany doors smashed open, the once pristine room now ransacked and had been turned over every square inch and covered in webbed fingers. The flags and portraits within clearly took the brunt. Bonn smelled something even worse than the fish and thier corpses. The janitorial staff would have a fucking field day tomorrow. It didn't matter now as he flung his bat away, grabbed his chair and sat down at the desk and opened the console embedded within the desk.

"Fuckin' damn it all, damn damn the fuse, damn the fish. Damn that sea-witch! Even beyond her grave at the bottom of the ocean she still finds all sorts of ways to mess with me!"

The console opened swiftly and with keys having been recently pressed- being lightly wet and damp, its clear they found it and fucked with it as Bonn tried to brush off the salty water on the keyboard. Folders, files, everything was fucked with. These disgusting sea-dwelling, bottom-feeding, shit-walking fish either didn't know how to use a computer, or more likely they purposefully messed with it. Bonn could only hope there wasn't-

*BombOS has detected [99+] malicious programs, please wait [10-20 hours] for a cleansing of the system*

"Of course! They steal my shit and then they'd do this! I'll be sure to have the Palace staff whip up a 5-course meal of seafood when this is over!"

Bonn kicked his chair away as he opened up a drawer on the desk, opening it up until the drawer fell out and beyond it a smaller compartment- thankfully untouched by the Stingers. Within the compartment Bonn hurriedly dragged out a small red phone and picked it up. A modified relic from the previous Palace- a rapid response phone had been installed into a secretive compartment in his desk for such emergencies, a phone that once picked up immediately dialed Mitt, Greens, and Adams.

"Come on you idiots, pick up, pick up."

Bonn if he could would be sweating bullets, he'd entered into an almost zen-esque state of being mad, annoyed, pissed, and worried. He could hear footsteps as the Guards began running through the Palace barking orders and then quickly developing into chaos as Bonn heard the screams coming from the halls as he paced back and forth all while the phone remained on white noise. At around 2 in the morning he figured they wouldn't be up, despite them not needing sleep, they liked to sleep on occasion, attempting to get 'more in tune' with thier subjects; all Bonn saw it as was being lazy.

Finally a voice came over the phone, slightly groggy and filled with static- Mitt.
"Bonn? Ah- fuse what time is it?"

"Mitt! Finally you fuse-deficient! It's an emergency!"

"Well what's the problem?" Mitt cleared up his voice as he snapped awake.

"The Palace Mitt! It's been ransacked!" Bonn could hear the sound of a pin dropping on Mitt's end as he continued to hurriedly speak. "The fucking fish-mongers ransacked my Palace! But they've done more than that Mitt! They messed with my console and likely took something important and confidential, and to make matters worse-"

"How in the Fuse could it be worse?"

"Camila's gone you lowfuse! I think she's been kidnapped by those low-down fish-mongers!"

"What?" "How?" "They what?"

The footsteps outside Bonn's office stopped in thier tracks as Bonn turned to look at the contingent of Guards standing agape outside the doors as Greens and Adams finally picked up and caught the last sentence. Bonn's quasi-zen had broken then. His Palace- supposed to be a formidable fortress, his lackies and Guards now caught Bonn at a low point. And now the disappearance of Queen Camila, the only real link to an already shaky ally had been taken if not already killed. Bonn's invincibility had been nearly broken as he stared at the scene around him.

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-=Breaking the Khanate=-
Something to clear my head is knowing if I'm having a down and shit day, that clumpy wad of fat and muscle Bill is having an even worse one. Breaking the Khanate will bring much joy and pride to the Bombpire, even amidst this confusing and terrifying war with the Anchovynes. The various tribes within the Khanate have already declared neutrality and have begun splintering away from the now failing and flailing Khan. More than that however, we also have the occupied nations to still deal with.
(One choice per category)

-The Great Bombperial Zud-
Bill needs to be taught a final lesson. But the other tribes in his suzerainty?

Let the Tribes Run 'way- Let these petty little peoples watch and spread the stories of the great 'Bombperial burn', let them see what happens to our enemies, let them see and bow in shock and awe. These petty worthless tribes worth dimes and nickels are not worth our boots.
(The Bombpire will ignore these slight tribes and continue onwards, burning down, and destroying Bill's home and potentially taking Bill alive.)

They Must All Pay a Tribute- Burn these collaborators and take all they have, they never once thought of disobeying the Khan until they were on the backfoot. They never thought of peace when they ransacked and burned our towns, or any other nations towns. These 'idyllic' country folk are but subjects of chaotic whims and feral reasoning. They must be made to pay in lives and blood.
(The various tribes within the Khanate will be made into lessons each thier own. Burn, ransack, and revenge. The Plains must burn to allow for a new more friendly crop to flourish.)

Bombperial Puppet Show- The various lesser tribes need only pay in tithes, crops, animals, resources, whatever is valuable to us, shall be extracted from them. We do not need thier bodies, we have scarred thier land and destroyed much of thier culture. It is the people however that make it all worthwhile. And it is the people we shall keep in chains.
(The various other tribes around Buffalo Bill will be turned into tributary states, resources will be taken from them on a yearly basis. No need for a pledge of loyalty or of submission. Simply accepting to fly the Bombperial flag next to your banners is all thats needed.)

-The Ground-Down and Broken-
Breaking these defeated nations is a nice 'extra bonus' on the golden platter from which we'll parade Bill.

All the Roads to Regio- The "24-94 Corridor" named for the rebuilt old world highway that encompasses the thin stretch from the Regio March Zone to the Mini Apple Metropolis Zone is a narrow and perilous journey should it be cut off by surrounding nations. To protect the Corridor from this threat, we shall pre-emptively annex the Stargazers and the Man-o-War-itobans into the Bombpire.
(As a precautionary measure we shall annex these two 'nations', this will give us a massive border into the more northerly reaches of the "Mooseborne Wilderness" and with the Federation of Founders Mountain.)

Limited Authority My Fools- The nations have already suffered enough, they know our power, our punishments, and our promises. They shall be let back as Bombperial protectorates. The Stargazers and Man-o-war shall be put under Bombperial suzerainty.
(The nations we've conquered shall become true protectorates, same as the Lands of Saint Louis and the Dullmarch. Under our umbrella and under my gaze.)

Reparations for Stupidity- For daring to side with the bogus Khan, the states bordering the Regio March will be forced into reparations until "we see equal compensation", for all the damages they've done. While not outright protectorates, they'll likely be buying and selling in Bombperial markets for the rest of thier and thier children's lives.
(The Stargazers and Man-o-War will become economic subjects, tied for the time-being into the Bombperial market and wider industrial complex.)

-Our Glory Days-
Victory is more than winning, its gloating and boasting how we're better than the losers!

Declare the Title- Buffalo Bill always styled himself as 'the Wrath of the Plains', while he'll soon be in chains, perhaps it'd be a perfectly fitting title for the Bombperor and his destruction of the Khanate- and soon- the whole of the Plains!
(The Bombperor will grant himself the title of 'the Wrath of the Plains', and as such will also immediately claim and put fear into every nation from the Founders Mountain to House Longhorn.)

Take in Bill for Study- The dude is seriously messed up- not even mentally, but seemingly physically. While it is possible that he could've attained his hulking physique on his own, the ability to 'communicate' with buffalo and stand ground against a mature buffalo seems like something normal people can't do- even with copious steroid uses.
(Bill will be guaranteed to be taken alive, and after the whole triumph and parade, we'll send him over to Mitt and his cronies- see if they can make sense of Bill's unusual physiology.)

Rest Easy GI Joe- The large tracts of land, the bountiful plains- even the burned patches of grass still could be farmed. To earn the loyalty of future subjects and current subjects, we shall grant acres of land to our veterans and to the families of those who've lost loved ones in this war.
(A boost to Bombperial agriculture shall be had in the following years, and now the common idiot will see the Army as a way to not only serve thier country, but earn some benefits in the long-run too.)
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Bonn, seemingly in a rough spot at the moment, having had to call his lackies- friends- at unjust hours of the morning and having to deal with a fight through his own Palace and now staring down the local Guard contingent, Bonn's wick nearly drooped to its lowest. However Bonn kept it together, that quasi-zen and worry replaced with now righteous fury and anger. If there was one thing Bonn was good at, it was mobilizing the people, and what better way than through anger? Bonn's wick began to spark as he began to rant, his sparks illuminated the low light of the room and he put the phone down on the desk.

"You heard me! All of you! The Anchovynes have now done a most unthinkable crime- beyond ransacking the Grand Palace, beyond slaughtering your friends and your Guardsmen-in-arms, they've now taken our Queen for thier hideous purposes!" Bonn's wick flared as he began pacing around the room. "This is why our war is important, why this war against the Imperium is more than some random naval skirmish off our shores!" Bonn turned back to his Guard; "This was a show of what they're willing to do to all of us! They are willing to steal, they are willing to pillage, and they are willing to take our people, our leaders, our wives!" Bonn gestured out to the hall with an open hand. "So I ask you, not as your leader, not as your Bombperor, but as an equal to you all- we've all lost something or someone tonight. So will you join me in this fight against the Anchovynes?"

The Guard, the phone, all but Bonn's wick continued to be silent as Bonn left the pregnant pause to consume the room. The small sparks had filled the room with a tension before Bonn spoke back up.

The Guards began to cheer as the pause seemed to end, voicing support. A 'hell yeah!' from the back, a whoop from the front, a slur at the Anchovynes from the edges. Cheers and jeers began to rapidly emerge, 'Glory to the Bombperor!' followed with another 'Down with the Imperium!' from the back. What was once a stunned gaggle of Guards became a determined contingent of the Bombpire's finest.

Bonn looked proud as the Guard began chanting, the morale of the shattered office rose as Bonn's wick began to dissipate as the rallying continued. "Now then. Guards!" The chanting Guards immediately stopped and became stoic in thier look. "Go out and help clean the Palace and patrol the Palace. I want every room, every hall, and every dark corner of this building to be under watch until the morning!"

"Aye sir!" Came the response of dozens of soldiers who immediately went thier separate ways as they began patrolling and fixing the Palace. Bonn waited until they were gone and the footsteps died down before picking up the phone to begin talking once again with the others.

"Holy fuse." "Bonn you alright?" "Nice shoutin'."

"Quit the bullshit admiration boys. I need you all to do shit for me. So listen up. Mitt I need you to get the fuck over here now and fix the office console, now!"

"On it!"

"Greens I need you to go to Mr. Smile's office and tell him the news A.S.A.P. I'll feed you the story proper once you're in the air.""

"I'll be out in 2 minutes, over"

"Adams, I need your fatass in the Domain doing damage control when the news gets out. The damn Anchovynes may be behind it all, but a missing or dead Domain Queen in Bombperial custody looks bad no matter how you slice it."

"Firstly- fuck you slim-wick. Second of all, no problem."

"Alright boys, lets get this night properly started. And remember. Every second counts. I want this Palace fully functional by morning, this news to be international by noon, and I want the Domain's guarantee of continued alliance by dinner-time, got it?"

"Affirmative!"

"Now quit the ass-kissing and go!"
Bonn threw the phone down back in its holder. He kept the phone out as he stared at the still-broken console. Error messages filled the screen as Bonn's wick flittered out and finally dropped his head on his desk. Maybe now he would try and catch some 'sleep' as he tried to relax in his broken office.

. . .

Elsewhere in the Palace, someone else nearly forgotten about stirred around in the Palaces walls and through the tight spaces, in the vents, and throughout the unseen but felt parts of the Palace. He watched it all, the break-in, the crippling of the Palace, the kidnapping, all of it. Marty was best when he wasn't seen all that much. The Bombperial Jester was to entertain- sure, but it was also to spy, to watch, and observe the world and from there make jokes, to relay information even if cryptic to Bonn. Its why he had such fun playing with the cards- the world unfurling and unfolding in front of him. And right now, the Palace itself had turned into a joke. The hated and monstrous thing that made him a slave to the Palace was nearly broken.

Marty thought, it'd be funny if he had a say in Camila's fate. Sure, she wasn't with him, she was miles and miles away under the ocean. But he still had the cards. The cards he knew had power, the cards he himself could entertain at the world's expense. What good was a jester if they were themselves unable to partake in the world's fun and mischief?

Marty drew forth more cards from behind his back, holding a card in the space between his fingers.

Which one would he choose?

oOo The Show's Spoilers oOo
Which one would decide the fate of the Bombperial Queen and as a bonus- the Bombperor himself?

Draw the "Dark" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player shall be put into peril, dangers and more shall frequent thier cares. Death will not be guaranteed, but they're sure to pay for playing such games in other mortal taxations.'

Draw the "Improv" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player will be one in which they forage thier own destiny, free from the confines of the strings of the universe and are able to find in themselves, the power to shape the world as they see it.'

Draw the "Irony" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player will also be reversed and put onto another player within the game. Their fates shall forever be juxtaposed until either the game ends or until the card is rendered inactive.'

Draw the "Harlequin" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player shall be left to whatever the forces beyond the fate of the field of play decide. Every game has its players, and every game has its rule-broker.'

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

I do apologize folks for the long wait, just trying to do two episodes and hunt for jobs at the same time is tedious work.
But I do hope you all enjoy the show!
Voting period ends July 9th, all the rules are the same.
And please check out and vote on some of my friends stuff, Scotty-Fresh and kefkorr they do other CYOH's too.

And have a wonderful day.

Description

Bonn walked the Palace halls as the night was at its fullest, a bat with spikes embedded in it he gripped tightly. Not needing sleep meant Bonn could patrol the Palace freely at any hour. Granted, the massive Guard contingent within the Palace and its complex could also do that for him- but he preferred taking his- and Camila's security into his own gloved hands. Bonn usually was lax about security. After all, what were people gonna do; shoot him? Bonn didn't exactly have to concern himself with food, drinks, health, and especially now- sleep- given it was about 1 in the morning (Bombperial Standard Time).

Bonn had ordered a nightly lockdown on the Palace 'afterhours', not out of fear for him- but for Camila's safety. Being a human, Bonn figured that a knife through her chest wasn't something she could shrug off like he could. And after reports- (some bogus, but mostly true) of Anchovyne assassins coming to "take revenge for their Empress Mairene" attempting to and even succeeding in taking down a few Bombperial leaders, celebrities, and critically- officers- Bonn worried that an Anchovyne 'Stinger' might take Camila's life- or if they were feeling real ugly- take Camila and hold her hostage. Either or, the situation between the Bombpire and the Domain wouldn't look all that great if the Queen (and highly respected religious figure) was found dead in Bombperial custody, regardless of outside forces. That and Camila was one of the few people in his inner circle he tolerated more than a conversation with- even if she was mute.

Bonn gripped the spiked bat harder as he walked into the side-wings of the Palace. He'd been in a few scuffles and skirmishes before. Being mostly invincible and then combined with his early political career- Bonn knew how fast close quarters could turn nasty- at least for the other guy.

Bonn chuckled to himself as he remembered his first fight, he swung the bat carelessly as he narrowly avoided batting a poor Guard on patrol. That first fight was what started it all. Beating up some shitwack Senator from the city who'd come on tour of the first town he remembered. He remembered it well- the taunting Senator, the talk of higher taxes out in the boonies, and the vague but clearly-meant statements about 'the city's better you unwashed barbarians'. The fight wasn't even with the Senator. He went down in 1 punch. It was his aides that was the fighting now that he remembered it-

*splat splat*

Either the pipes were unusually leaky, his memories either were more visceral, or-

*Splat Splat*

Footsteps.

Bonn's wick sparked- paranoia set in, granted, some idiot could've just walked into a wet puddle-

*SPLAT SPLAT*

*THUMP*

Bonn definitely heard that. It was close as well.

Bonn spun around. The Guard he nearly wacked with the bat was now slumped over on the ground as cloaked figure stood out. He didn't need to see its ugly face to immediately pick up what it was. An Anchovyne, holding a blade in one webbed hand, and the other hand a cloth stained with some sort of knockout chemical that was quickly disposed of. Its disgusting fish-stench emanated throughout the hall as the lights flickered. Like normal brain-dead fish these assassins- at least from what he read travelled in 'schools'. The lights began to flicker as he heard more wet 'slaps' from across the Palace. The lights dimmed and the Stinger dashed forward, its webbed feet gave away where it was.

Bonn ran forward with his spiked bat as the sparking wick hissed and rushed the Anchovyne as the lights began to flicker back to life. The Stinger tried to dodge and strike Bonn, to little avail. Its butterfly knife did little but tear Bonn's clothes, and punching the bomb did little but sprain its webbed fists. Bonn meanwhile took swings, missing or at the least grazing the assassin. A small tear in cloak here, a cut there. Both took another swing at one another. The Stinger sliced downwards trying to anticipate and strike the bat, Bonn however swung it in half a circle at chest-height allowing it to-

*CRACK*

The bat connected and it connected true. Whoever that fish was, truly became chowder as Bonn took the bat out from the fishes torso, fresh green blood coated the bat and the carpet as Bonn ran down the hall and towards Camila's room. Formality and cleanliness died the second he saw that walking pile of fish-sticks. Bonn ran down the corridors swearing like Ahab and Greens in the same room as he barreled through the labyrinthine palace. What was designed to confuse and put off potential sieges, rebellions, and incursions within and around the Palace became detrimental, turning constant corners and moving up several flights of stairs slowed Bonn down.

Bodies of Guards became more common all the while the occasional fish standing and gloating over the Guards bodies, quickly dispatching and clobbering every fish he saw with the spike-bat.

"Camila! Camila!" Bonn ran in silence waiting for an answer before stopping suddenly in his tracks and smacked his head in stupidity. "Camila's a mute. Idiot!" Bonn resumed running, however as he approached Camila's room more and more Anchovyne Stingers lay in front of him. The shouts and noisy takedowns caused them to be alert of his presence, ironically slowing him down more as he got closer, fortunately a bat with spikes being swung by a bomb tends to win more often than small fish knife carried by fish people. At some point during the mad dash the assassins stopped caring about being assassins and turned into a gang of hooligans, rushing to shank Bonn as he clobbered through them and made his way to Camila's room only to stop short in the hallway where her room was.

The door was open, Bonn rushed to the open doorway to look for a body only to find it empty. . .

"Fffuuu-"

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

-=Fry Those Filthy Fish!=-
The Anchovynes have infiltrated and ransacked the Grand Palace! They've made a fool of my rule, my stuff, my Palace! And whatever they've done with the Queen they'll fucking get a thousand fold! Even after Empress Mairene's death she still bewitches me that foul she-sea-devil! What those soon-to-be fillets have done to my Palace and whatever they've done with Camila; I'll see to it that any Anchovyne successor state, puppet or not is shattered and broken like a ship in a storm! Ahab can have whatever loot he wants from the Imperium! All I ask is thier heads on a silver platter!
(One option from each for a three course meal of pain, humiliation, and destruction!)

-Scumbags and Assholes-
I don't care how foul and filthy they are, the Anchovynes deserve it all!

Buying Our Way In n' Out- Richport and the League of Tierra Firme are the 'honest' powers of the Southern Caroblind Sea. Being experienced naval powers, donating sailors, equipment, and a few ships in exchange for a hefty sum of gold, silver, and the Bombpire's own money. Hopefully this 'southern front' can distract Anchovyne loyalists by forcing them to commit to another costly and far-off front.
(These little merchant republics will be drafted into our war for a small sum of money, albeit being rather autonomous in thier war efforts. This can however show the world the Bombpire is open to 'diplomacy'.)

Destroyers and Bases, Oh My!- New-von-land, an island famed for its fisheries and natural ports will be convinced to loan us a few ports and dock facilities for our war against the Anchovynes and allow us to strike down from the north. And hey- while we're on the island, we could also convince the remaining little statelets up here that Bombperial suzerainty isn't such a bad idea afterall.
(New-von-land loans a few ports for the duration of the war- if not longer depending on how well we can butter them up. Next Episode will see the Bombpire engaged in a small diplomatic game trying to convince the small northeastern statelets to join the Bombpire- or at least become puppets.)

Zombie Slaves For Bulk- The Voodoom Lords- less a 'country' and more a pile of rotten 'necromancers' and pirates. But if there is one thing they're eager for- is a chance to take a whack at the Anchovynes. Being the rotten pile they are, the Voodoom have been raided and razed by the Anchovynes before, mainly for religious reasons, but on occasion the need of slaves. The 'zombies' are rather good slaves for the Anchovynes, brainless, unquestioning, and surprisingly very strong.
(The Bombpire will manufacture a long-term deal with the prominent Voodoom Lords and purchase a few stocks of 'zombies', and heck we may even invite them to join the war against the Anchovynes. Perhaps some 'fish zombies' might entice the more creative Voodoom Lords.)

-The Disorganized Popularity-
The biggest problem with the A.P.F. is that it *is* popular. Wretched democracy.

Rally 'Round the Rebel Flag- The Anchovyne forces under our loyalty are disparate and messy organization, we should press this advantage and allow the Anchovyne nobles greater autonomy over the regions they control. We could always claim the rebellious monarchy is simply a 'regency' and make a few concessions to the ruling nobles in exchange for a few nobles. Besides, its only for a regency. A more 'permanent regency'.
(The Anchovyne Popular Front will turn into the Anchovyne Confederation, a 'regency-in-waiting' that will be under the control of local nobility and the clergy. A loose confederation of the most powerful upper-class will be established as the regency.)

The Disgraced Sister-in-Law- Dolphine II, sister-in-law of Mairene and now most legitimate member of the royal family following her sisters 'unfortunate' demise. A more 'traditionalist' royal than Mairene, but more willing to open up to Bombperial ideas and suggestions than the rest of the family. No help from us of course, we are merely bankrolling and supporting her campaign to become Empress.
(The Anchovyne Imperium will change little in the way of its power structure and Empress Dolphine will be a wonderful 'ally' of the Bombpire once she assumes the true throne. Of course while she is semi-legitimate, there was a reason she was not selected to be the heir to the throne and not the one with a harpoon through her head and if she knows what's good for her, that same harpoon won't be going through her head.)

A Prickly Picking- A rather rotund fish by the name of Jacqoral 'the Urchin', was a minor and uncaring noble in most Anchovyne power struggles has now seemingly sprung to life to take his 'rightful place' on the throne. Apparently Jacqoral was ruling statesman of the Imperium (of course as a regent, but lets not crush his spirit yet) and has spent majority of his life in the shadows since then and has offered 'his services' in exchange for helping put him on a throne.
(Being a former statesman is a plus, regent or not, someone with experience in navigating the Anchovyne system is helpful in post-conquest occupation. And hey, if people hate 'the Urchin' we can always support another would-be has-been.)

An Admiral's Wench- Ahab Benjamine has with him an 'equal' within the Anchovyne traitors. A notorious 'pirate queen'. An outlaw busted out of a maximum-security borehole has now become the leading figure of the A.P.F. armed forces- "Salacia". Leading multiple hit-and-run tactics against larger Anchovyne fleets and 'militias' she has garnered attention even from Ahab himself.
(Co-ruling the Popular Front, and then the Imperium as scallywag and scallywench, the Imperium will be turned into a stratocracy, a 'mutually beneficial' union between Bombpire and Imperium. This may encourage other dumbasses to start thier own filibuster campaigns however. Looking at you Adams. Then again, free conquest is free conquest.)

Who Else But ME?- Bonn B. Bombley, ruler of the Bombpire, technically co-ruling the Domain of Death with Camila, and soon-to-be ruler of the Plains. What's but another title under my belt? Besides, as one last insult to the sea-bitch I'll run her 'Imperium' as the next set of Zones within the Bombpire. Glory to Bonn B. Bombley! First of his name! Master of Land and Sea!
(The Bombperor shall be the official monarch of the Imperium. Obviously since I can't rule in two places at once, it'll be fairly more autonomous than other Zones and a small board of advisors and lackies will run in my stead. Glory to the Bombperor! Glory to ME!)

-Amazing Work Admiral-
Now sink the rest of the Imperium's fleet! They cannot be allowed onto land or get off the sea floor!

Plunder and Pillage!- The Anchovynes deserve to have nothing! Not even the crumbs of seaweed they farm, the rocks they carve into bricks, nothing, nothing, NOTHING! For too long they've stolen from the Bombpire, for too long they've taken rightful Bombperial property and people! And with the disappearance of Camila, we'll steal every thing that is or isn't nailed down!
(Empty cargo freighters will be given to the Navy, I want everything! Every last little thing you can see and then steal! And I mean everything! Priceless artifacts, religious icons, tables, cloth, EVERYTHING! And all this loot shall be allowed to be 100% kept by the Navy.)

Whips, Chains, and Nets!- Apparently the Imperium cannot seem to get it through its soft cartilage skulls that the Bombpire is something that is not to be messed with, most importantly my Palace! So let me elaborate. Enslave and enforce the Imperium's population to our will. Any territory gained by the Navy shall be put under Bombperial law and under Bombperial garrison, we may also be willing to take some 'lucky prisoners' to the mainland.
(The Bombpire will extract a small 'tithe' from occupied territory and expropriate it back to the mainland. Just as Anchovyne sailors destroyed precious Bombperial cargo and ships- now Anchovyne slaves will make up for thier past transgressions.)

Bring Back the Queen!- Ahab, I've a very special job for you. Find and locate Queen Camila before the Anchovynes do Fuse-knows what with her or the Domain's starts taking back its promises. Negotiating those mining rights in the northern provinces took some very heavy lifting on the Bombpire's part, and Queen Camila had helped ease the pains of such a negotiation, promising further land grants and favorable tariffs.
(Ahab's personal squadron will go out and look for the Queen. And hopefully take care of the rest of the Anchovyne leadership. Of course we would also like it Ahab, if she was brought back alive and in one piece.)

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

"Fffuuu-"

The room was empty, no sign of a body or even a struggle anywhere bar rose petals that lay scattered along the ground.

Bonn tried looking for any clues as to where the assailants went, peaking out the door he spotted a small trail of petals leading out the door and further down the corridor. Bonn sprinted after the trail. The petals becoming more and more sporadic but still consistent. The lack of fish in his way told him that the last fish left alive in the Palace- if they were in the Palace were the kidnappers. Bodies of Guards still littered the ground, slumped and hunched over as Bonn followed the trail of petals.

Stopping to think at an intersection, Bonn stopped to collect his thoughts, the lights continued to flicker as he spotted one of many 'emergency' switches. In case of events like this, the Palace was rigged to alert nearby Guards and other units that the Palace was under some form of attack. Bonn hit the switch, he figured the Anchovyne Stingers if they were out of the Palace couldn't be far, though as he looked at the quickly sporadic trail of petals and little bits of torn cloth, whoever or whatever took Camila weren't exactly in the Palace. If they'd been able to cripple the Palace's garrison so quickly and easily, they likely weren't within its walls, but hopefully he thought- somewhere on its complex, but Bonn doubted that.

He kept running through the Palace, following the trail as it became harder and harder to follow. Going further down into the Palace, below the basement, into the underground tunnel complex used 'just in case of situations like these' and finally further down, Bonn found the end of the trail at a grate that led into the old world sewers beneath the Palace.

Now the pieces fit together. They'd managed to evade all of the security systems of the Palace and take it down from the inside by literally swimming through a near-unknown part of the Palace's infrastructure and crippling it from below. The fucking sea-devils, leave it to them to implement submarine-esque tactics even on land. Of course this did likely mean that any such runaway fish took Camila with them down through the sewers, and almost guaranteed into the ocean.

Bonn would have a quick word with the engineers of the Palace and Mitt later about this. But all he could do for now was close the grate and return to his office. If they'd taken Camila, what else could they've taken? . .

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

-=What's Been Lost to the Sea?=-
Those filthy fish-mongers likely took something of great importance from the office. If they'd be willing to swim through miles of old world shit, they likely could bust down a mahogany door. But what was it they took?
(The Anchovynes took something important while we haven't lost it- the fact they now also have it is concerning.)

The Maps and Charts- Sites of the old world's technological hubs, research facilities, and weapons stockpiles. The Anchovynes now have a detailed list of old-world loot. Getting the loot would either turn the war into a stalemate, or even if they were too late to save thier precious Imperium, could spell trouble for us later down the line and make any puppet state or occupation turn into an even bigger nightmare than it already will be.
(The Bombpire and the Anchovynes will now have a 'cold conflict' over old world bases and depots. Regardless if the war is won or not, these fish-mongers will be a nuisance to us now that they'll have access to potential new technologies, or copying old technology.)

Codes for Electronics- GRID, Gilgamech's surviving software, all of the Bombpire's sensitive electronics, from computer servers, radio and television, and so much more are under potential threat from Imperium hackers, or forbid- if they decide to sell it to other 3rd parties, we could be blackmailed by other countries. I need to call Mitt right away and get him and the eggheads on the know-how immediately!
(The Bombpire will suffer from a massive electronic blackout, reverting to more 'mechanical' machinery and primitive forms unable to be compromised by rouge hackers and passwords. The Bombpire's electronics will return, but we need to make sure our 'digital' and 'electronic' empire are safe first.)

The Shit-List- There was a personal and confidential list of all the Bombperial officials and politicians I despise. Incompetent rubes, extra greedy taxmen, the true dregs of the government and I'd planned on sacking them if not ordering most of them shot dead or removed otherwise through 'mysterious circumstances'. However if the Imperium has that list, win-or-lose in this war we may have a slight problem with the more despised officials.
(This will likely lay the seeds of massive civil unrest or at worst- Bombperial civil war. Though in the long-run the Imperium may do us a favor.)

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

Bonn ran to his office to also find the mahogany doors smashed open, the once pristine room now ransacked and had been turned over every square inch and covered in webbed fingers. The flags and portraits within clearly took the brunt. Bonn smelled something even worse than the fish and thier corpses. The janitorial staff would have a fucking field day tomorrow. It didn't matter now as he flung his bat away, grabbed his chair and sat down at the desk and opened the console embedded within the desk.

"Fuckin' damn it all, damn damn the fuse, damn the fish. Damn that sea-witch! Even beyond her grave at the bottom of the ocean she still finds all sorts of ways to mess with me!"

The console opened swiftly and with keys having been recently pressed- being lightly wet and damp, its clear they found it and fucked with it as Bonn tried to brush off the salty water on the keyboard. Folders, files, everything was fucked with. These disgusting sea-dwelling, bottom-feeding, shit-walking fish either didn't know how to use a computer, or more likely they purposefully messed with it. Bonn could only hope there wasn't-

*BombOS has detected [99+] malicious programs, please wait [10-20 hours] for a cleansing of the system*

"Of course! They steal my shit and then they'd do this! I'll be sure to have the Palace staff whip up a 5-course meal of seafood when this is over!"

Bonn kicked his chair away as he opened up a drawer on the desk, opening it up until the drawer fell out and beyond it a smaller compartment- thankfully untouched by the Stingers. Within the compartment Bonn hurriedly dragged out a small red phone and picked it up. A modified relic from the previous Palace- a rapid response phone had been installed into a secretive compartment in his desk for such emergencies, a phone that once picked up immediately dialed Mitt, Greens, and Adams.

"Come on you idiots, pick up, pick up."

Bonn if he could would be sweating bullets, he'd entered into an almost zen-esque state of being mad, annoyed, pissed, and worried. He could hear footsteps as the Guards began running through the Palace barking orders and then quickly developing into chaos as Bonn heard the screams coming from the halls as he paced back and forth all while the phone remained on white noise. At around 2 in the morning he figured they wouldn't be up, despite them not needing sleep, they liked to sleep on occasion, attempting to get 'more in tune' with thier subjects; all Bonn saw it as was being lazy.

Finally a voice came over the phone, slightly groggy and filled with static- Mitt.
"Bonn? Ah- fuse what time is it?"

"Mitt! Finally you fuse-deficient! It's an emergency!"

"Well what's the problem?" Mitt cleared up his voice as he snapped awake.

"The Palace Mitt! It's been ransacked!" Bonn could hear the sound of a pin dropping on Mitt's end as he continued to hurriedly speak. "The fucking fish-mongers ransacked my Palace! But they've done more than that Mitt! They messed with my console and likely took something important and confidential, and to make matters worse-"

"How in the Fuse could it be worse?"

"Camila's gone you lowfuse! I think she's been kidnapped by those low-down fish-mongers!"

"What?" "How?" "They what?"

The footsteps outside Bonn's office stopped in thier tracks as Bonn turned to look at the contingent of Guards standing agape outside the doors as Greens and Adams finally picked up and caught the last sentence. Bonn's quasi-zen had broken then. His Palace- supposed to be a formidable fortress, his lackies and Guards now caught Bonn at a low point. And now the disappearance of Queen Camila, the only real link to an already shaky ally had been taken if not already killed. Bonn's invincibility had been nearly broken as he stared at the scene around him.

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

-=Breaking the Khanate=-
Something to clear my head is knowing if I'm having a down and shit day, that clumpy wad of fat and muscle Bill is having an even worse one. Breaking the Khanate will bring much joy and pride to the Bombpire, even amidst this confusing and terrifying war with the Anchovynes. The various tribes within the Khanate have already declared neutrality and have begun splintering away from the now failing and flailing Khan. More than that however, we also have the occupied nations to still deal with.
(One choice per category)

-The Great Bombperial Zud-
Bill needs to be taught a final lesson. But the other tribes in his suzerainty?

Let the Tribes Run 'way- Let these petty little peoples watch and spread the stories of the great 'Bombperial burn', let them see what happens to our enemies, let them see and bow in shock and awe. These petty worthless tribes worth dimes and nickels are not worth our boots.
(The Bombpire will ignore these slight tribes and continue onwards, burning down, and destroying Bill's home and potentially taking Bill alive.)

They Must All Pay a Tribute- Burn these collaborators and take all they have, they never once thought of disobeying the Khan until they were on the backfoot. They never thought of peace when they ransacked and burned our towns, or any other nations towns. These 'idyllic' country folk are but subjects of chaotic whims and feral reasoning. They must be made to pay in lives and blood.
(The various tribes within the Khanate will be made into lessons each thier own. Burn, ransack, and revenge. The Plains must burn to allow for a new more friendly crop to flourish.)

Bombperial Puppet Show- The various lesser tribes need only pay in tithes, crops, animals, resources, whatever is valuable to us, shall be extracted from them. We do not need thier bodies, we have scarred thier land and destroyed much of thier culture. It is the people however that make it all worthwhile. And it is the people we shall keep in chains.
(The various other tribes around Buffalo Bill will be turned into tributary states, resources will be taken from them on a yearly basis. No need for a pledge of loyalty or of submission. Simply accepting to fly the Bombperial flag next to your banners is all thats needed.)

-The Ground-Down and Broken-
Breaking these defeated nations is a nice 'extra bonus' on the golden platter from which we'll parade Bill.

All the Roads to Regio- The "24-94 Corridor" named for the rebuilt old world highway that encompasses the thin stretch from the Regio March Zone to the Mini Apple Metropolis Zone is a narrow and perilous journey should it be cut off by surrounding nations. To protect the Corridor from this threat, we shall pre-emptively annex the Stargazers and the Man-o-War-itobans into the Bombpire.
(As a precautionary measure we shall annex these two 'nations', this will give us a massive border into the more northerly reaches of the "Mooseborne Wilderness" and with the Federation of Founders Mountain.)

Limited Authority My Fools- The nations have already suffered enough, they know our power, our punishments, and our promises. They shall be let back as Bombperial protectorates. The Stargazers and Man-o-war shall be put under Bombperial suzerainty.
(The nations we've conquered shall become true protectorates, same as the Lands of Saint Louis and the Dullmarch. Under our umbrella and under my gaze.)

Reparations for Stupidity- For daring to side with the bogus Khan, the states bordering the Regio March will be forced into reparations until "we see equal compensation", for all the damages they've done. While not outright protectorates, they'll likely be buying and selling in Bombperial markets for the rest of thier and thier children's lives.
(The Stargazers and Man-o-War will become economic subjects, tied for the time-being into the Bombperial market and wider industrial complex.)

-Our Glory Days-
Victory is more than winning, its gloating and boasting how we're better than the losers!

Declare the Title- Buffalo Bill always styled himself as 'the Wrath of the Plains', while he'll soon be in chains, perhaps it'd be a perfectly fitting title for the Bombperor and his destruction of the Khanate- and soon- the whole of the Plains!
(The Bombperor will grant himself the title of 'the Wrath of the Plains', and as such will also immediately claim and put fear into every nation from the Founders Mountain to House Longhorn.)

Take in Bill for Study- The dude is seriously messed up- not even mentally, but seemingly physically. While it is possible that he could've attained his hulking physique on his own, the ability to 'communicate' with buffalo and stand ground against a mature buffalo seems like something normal people can't do- even with copious steroid uses.
(Bill will be guaranteed to be taken alive, and after the whole triumph and parade, we'll send him over to Mitt and his cronies- see if they can make sense of Bill's unusual physiology.)

Rest Easy GI Joe- The large tracts of land, the bountiful plains- even the burned patches of grass still could be farmed. To earn the loyalty of future subjects and current subjects, we shall grant acres of land to our veterans and to the families of those who've lost loved ones in this war.
(A boost to Bombperial agriculture shall be had in the following years, and now the common idiot will see the Army as a way to not only serve thier country, but earn some benefits in the long-run too.)
'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

Bonn, seemingly in a rough spot at the moment, having had to call his lackies- friends- at unjust hours of the morning and having to deal with a fight through his own Palace and now staring down the local Guard contingent, Bonn's wick nearly drooped to its lowest. However Bonn kept it together, that quasi-zen and worry replaced with now righteous fury and anger. If there was one thing Bonn was good at, it was mobilizing the people, and what better way than through anger? Bonn's wick began to spark as he began to rant, his sparks illuminated the low light of the room and he put the phone down on the desk.

"You heard me! All of you! The Anchovynes have now done a most unthinkable crime- beyond ransacking the Grand Palace, beyond slaughtering your friends and your Guardsmen-in-arms, they've now taken our Queen for thier hideous purposes!" Bonn's wick flared as he began pacing around the room. "This is why our war is important, why this war against the Imperium is more than some random naval skirmish off our shores!" Bonn turned back to his Guard; "This was a show of what they're willing to do to all of us! They are willing to steal, they are willing to pillage, and they are willing to take our people, our leaders, our wives!" Bonn gestured out to the hall with an open hand. "So I ask you, not as your leader, not as your Bombperor, but as an equal to you all- we've all lost something or someone tonight. So will you join me in this fight against the Anchovynes?"

The Guard, the phone, all but Bonn's wick continued to be silent as Bonn left the pregnant pause to consume the room. The small sparks had filled the room with a tension before Bonn spoke back up.

The Guards began to cheer as the pause seemed to end, voicing support. A 'hell yeah!' from the back, a whoop from the front, a slur at the Anchovynes from the edges. Cheers and jeers began to rapidly emerge, 'Glory to the Bombperor!' followed with another 'Down with the Imperium!' from the back. What was once a stunned gaggle of Guards became a determined contingent of the Bombpire's finest.

Bonn looked proud as the Guard began chanting, the morale of the shattered office rose as Bonn's wick began to dissipate as the rallying continued. "Now then. Guards!" The chanting Guards immediately stopped and became stoic in thier look. "Go out and help clean the Palace and patrol the Palace. I want every room, every hall, and every dark corner of this building to be under watch until the morning!"

"Aye sir!" Came the response of dozens of soldiers who immediately went thier separate ways as they began patrolling and fixing the Palace. Bonn waited until they were gone and the footsteps died down before picking up the phone to begin talking once again with the others.

"Holy fuse." "Bonn you alright?" "Nice shoutin'."

"Quit the bullshit admiration boys. I need you all to do shit for me. So listen up. Mitt I need you to get the fuck over here now and fix the office console, now!"

"On it!"

"Greens I need you to go to Mr. Smile's office and tell him the news A.S.A.P. I'll feed you the story proper once you're in the air.""

"I'll be out in 2 minutes, over"

"Adams, I need your fatass in the Domain doing damage control when the news gets out. The damn Anchovynes may be behind it all, but a missing or dead Domain Queen in Bombperial custody looks bad no matter how you slice it."

"Firstly- fuck you slim-wick. Second of all, no problem."

"Alright boys, lets get this night properly started. And remember. Every second counts. I want this Palace fully functional by morning, this news to be international by noon, and I want the Domain's guarantee of continued alliance by dinner-time, got it?"

"Affirmative!"

"Now quit the ass-kissing and go!"
Bonn threw the phone down back in its holder. He kept the phone out as he stared at the still-broken console. Error messages filled the screen as Bonn's wick flittered out and finally dropped his head on his desk. Maybe now he would try and catch some 'sleep' as he tried to relax in his broken office.

. . .

Elsewhere in the Palace, someone else nearly forgotten about stirred around in the Palaces walls and through the tight spaces, in the vents, and throughout the unseen but felt parts of the Palace. He watched it all, the break-in, the crippling of the Palace, the kidnapping, all of it. Marty was best when he wasn't seen all that much. The Bombperial Jester was to entertain- sure, but it was also to spy, to watch, and observe the world and from there make jokes, to relay information even if cryptic to Bonn. Its why he had such fun playing with the cards- the world unfurling and unfolding in front of him. And right now, the Palace itself had turned into a joke. The hated and monstrous thing that made him a slave to the Palace was nearly broken.

Marty thought, it'd be funny if he had a say in Camila's fate. Sure, she wasn't with him, she was miles and miles away under the ocean. But he still had the cards. The cards he knew had power, the cards he himself could entertain at the world's expense. What good was a jester if they were themselves unable to partake in the world's fun and mischief?

Marty drew forth more cards from behind his back, holding a card in the space between his fingers.

Which one would he choose?

oOo The Show's Spoilers oOo
Which one would decide the fate of the Bombperial Queen and as a bonus- the Bombperor himself?

Draw the "Dark" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player shall be put into peril, dangers and more shall frequent thier cares. Death will not be guaranteed, but they're sure to pay for playing such games in other mortal taxations.'

Draw the "Improv" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player will be one in which they forage thier own destiny, free from the confines of the strings of the universe and are able to find in themselves, the power to shape the world as they see it.'

Draw the "Irony" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player will also be reversed and put onto another player within the game. Their fates shall forever be juxtaposed until either the game ends or until the card is rendered inactive.'

Draw the "Harlequin" Card
A voice echoes. . .
'With this card the fate of the chosen player shall be left to whatever the forces beyond the fate of the field of play decide. Every game has its players, and every game has its rule-broker.'

'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}-'O-[]-()-{X}

I do apologize folks for the long wait, just trying to do two episodes and hunt for jobs at the same time is tedious work.
But I do hope you all enjoy the show!
Voting period ends July 9th, all the rules are the same.
And please check out and vote on some of my friends stuff, Scotty-Fresh and kefkorr they do other CYOH's too.

And have a wonderful day.