Red Dagger

[ManBear]

January 2nd, 2007 - Warsaw, Poland - Senat of Poland

"Mr. Marshal, your excellencies, esteemed senators,

When I stood before you in this chamber nearly a year ago to accept the King's appointment as Minister of Media and Digital affairs, voted in by the people of Poland, I made you a promise. I promised to defend not only the sovereignty of our digital borders but also the human dignity of those who cross into them. Even when flesh and blood still trail behind the code. Today, I stand accused of weakening our kingdom. Of inviting danger under the guise of compassion and I stand here today to not deflect those accusations but answer them directly.

Yes, I authorized the issuance of three hundred and twenty seven humanitarian visas to refugees fleeing the Republic of Turkey after its government was overthrown in a military coup. Among those refugees are journalists, engineers, archivists, teachers, and technologies. These are the people, who mere weeks earlier, were helping govern their nation. Today they find themselves fugitives within their own land. Some are Kurdish, some are former leftists, some have faced torture, but all of them faced certain execution or indefinite detention. Not by courts of law but by armored decree. The new regime in Ankara has blacklisted a quarter-million names all because of racial and political motivation in the pretext of counterterrorism. Let me be clear, Senators. Poland does not recognize the PKK. Poland does not fund insurgency. Poland does not tolerate political violence. But Poland also does not, and should not, permit a military regime to dictate our refugee policy through threats and intimidation. We didn't allow the previous regime to do so when they demanded Turkish students be handed over for being subversive.

Our kingdom has no one to fall back on. The Global Assembly has become stagnant and filled with talkers with no backbone for action. We have only our laws, conscience, and our crown. I will not desecrate them by sending scholars and widows back into the arms of a possible firing squad because their names have appeared on some general's spreadsheet. Let us not forget that our Monarchy was restored not by violence but by the principle of the people. The very fact that I stand here. A woman, reformer, and daughter of a coal driver proves that this Kingdom is not afraid of evolution. If we yield now, if we allow Ankara to define who is worth protecting and who is not, then we invite foreign powers to draw lines on our maps and in our ministries. This is not sovereignty. It is servitude.

I will answer your questions. I will comply with any oversight you deem appropriate. But I will not, and should not be asked to, apologize for upholding the law of refuge, a law that predates this kingdom, this Senat, and even this crown.

I ask you with all the respect that is due. Let Poland be brave. Let Poland be just. Let Poland, in this very moment, choose to be better than fear.

Thank you."

The grand chamber of the senat simmered with restless energy as Minister Marta Nowak's voice faded into the heavy silence of the ancient chamber. For a moment, not a single one of the senators dared breach. Then, swelling like the tides of Gydnia's beaches, applause broke out. First hesitant and then resolute, the benches occupied by the Progressive Alliance and their allies became an uproar of positive emotion. Faces once stoic, softened and eyes brightened with the fires of conviction. Some senators exchanged glances between one another that spoke of personal memories and shared ideals, their clapping echoing the weight of history behind their cause.

Across the hall, the Democratic Monarchist Alliance watched with tempered respect, their applause was polite but measured as if restrained by years of cautious governance and tempered loyalty to the Crown. Senator Janusz Raczynski nodded subtly, his eyes reflecting a grudging acknowledgement of Marta's principles. Yet beneath the surface questions lingered. How would these ideals translate to action without fracturing the fragile trust and balance within the kingdom?

In stark contrast to the rest, a wave of tension swept through the Patriotic Action Party. Arms folded tight, jaws clenches, a few senators even rose abruptly and strode out. Their departure would cast an obvious shadow across the chamber. Their silence was louder than words. It was a palpable rebuke and behind the stern faces there whispered words of dissent that began weaving through the corridors. Words that spoke of national security, borders betrayed, and a Kingdom at risk.

Masrhal Bogdan Lesiak sat unmoved. His face a mask of solemn neutrality. When he finally spoke his voice was steady and carefully measured, as if to temper the storm raging beneath the chamber's vaulted ceilings. "The Minister's statement has been noted and will be entered into the record. The Senat thanks the Minister for her transparency and for her service." His words were a call to decorum, but their quiet gravity held the weight of the fragile peace of the chamber.

Outside the chamber, the city buzzed. Newspapers ran headlines torn between praise and alarm. The air of uncertainty spread form the marble halls of power to the crowded cafes and tram stops. Yet, in the quiet offices of the Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs, Marta Nowak stood resolute. She was aware that this moment was only the beginning. It was a crucible in which the Kingdom of Poland's future would be forged.

---

January 5th, 2007 - Office of State Protection, Warsaw, Poland

The Chief's office was a study in understated authority. Polish dark wood paneling lined the walls, interrupted only by framed commendations and a large, detailed map of the Kingdom's key strategic sites. A sleek mahogany desk stod near the center, organized and featured a brand new computer boasting the Kingdom of Poland's highest encrypted standards.

Sitting behind the desk was Chief Commander Marek Sobczak, his posture straight and expression unreadable. Standing before him in crisp military fashion was a Captain Jakub Krawiec, his eyes maintained a level of alertness often seen in protection agents.

"Effective immediately," Chief Sobczak began, voice calm and commander, "you are being appointed EPO to Minister Marta Nowak. Her current EPO is being reassigned following that security blunder leaving the Senat chamber after he meeting there." A group of journalists had somehow gotten around the protective line and managed to get within the Senat chamber itself without clearance. An obvious fuckup on Lieutenant Blaszczyk's part. "Given the Minister's Senat address and the anticipated increase in threats, your operational experience and judgement in previous details will prove critical moving forward."

Jakub met his gaze with steady contact. "Understood sir. I will do my duty to the Crown."

With a slight nod, Sobczak stood. "Good, you're expected to report to the Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs effective immediately to perform the handover of duties with the current EPO. Keep your head on a swivel, Krawiec."

Jakub nodded and turned smoothly on his heel in military fashion, some habits are hard to break. The polished floor of The Office reflected the sharp tap of his shoes as he left the room, his mind already shifting to the challenges that lay ahead of him.

---

January 5th, 2007 - Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs, Warsaw, Poland

With his earpiece in his ear, service Glock in the holster at his hip and two spare magazines, Jakub waited outside the rear entrance to the Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs for the principle's car to arrive. Typically it was a two car convoy with backup agents and a medic in the rear vehicle and the principle and her EPO in the lead vehicle. It didn't take long for the vehicles to pull to a stop and the former EPO to step out.

"Kawiec. Good to see you. I understand you are taking over for me after my fuck up, huh. Watch out for her, she's one who likes to ride her high horse fast and loose." The lieutenant had stepped out to shake his hand and officially hand over the duties to Jakub.

"Shit happens. Wasn't your fault the Policja couldn't maintain a perimeter to save their lives. Take some time and get your head straight and I'm sure they'll get you a new detail soon enough."

With that Jakub stepped forward and opened the door and allowed the Minister to step out of the car.

"And you are?" Her curt question was directed towards Jakub, her steps and she continued to the voice echoed through the empty alleyway.

"Captain Jakub Kawiec, Madam Minister. I'll be your new EPO from now on. I'd like to discuss your security protocols when you get a chance, ma'am." He followed close behind, familiar weight of his loaded pistol on his belt and a keen eye always on the lookout for threats.

The Minister didn't even look at Jakub when she responded. "Yes, yes in all due time, Captain. But at the moment I'm late for an important meeting."

---

January 6th, 2007 - PKP Intercity Line: Lodz-Central Warsaw - Between Lodz and Warsaw

The sun had barely crested the horizon when the PKP Intercity Express 6120 pulled out of Lodz Fabryczna, its silver carriages glided along the steal rails. Inside the cars were diplomats, officials, and commuters returning to Warsaw following a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Each was settled into the comfort of high-speed travel bound for their primary residences and jobs in Warsaw. Among them were several senior analysts from the Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs, including officials tasked with overseeing classified encryption programs tied to the Polish Royal Network.

They would never make it.

At 7:52 in the morning, arriving just outside Skierniewice, the train's quiet and rhythmic hum was suddenly shatted by a deep concussive blast. Carriage 3 violently exploded outwards, vaporizing everyone inside it. A wave of fire and shrapnel tore through the adjoining cars, sending even more shards of metal and glass hurtling intoi the fields beyond. The large explosion released a fireball high into the sky and cracked windows as far as the nearby highway. The rest of the train did not fair better as it was derailed violently, sending screeching steel and twisting metal across the tracks.

Emergency response teams were on site within twenty minutes. Dozens were found dead, including the team of senior analysts. Some bodies, those close to the explosion could only be identified as bodies by scorched fragments of bones embedded in bodies and the twisted chassis itself. The scene was quickly declared a Level 1 National Emergency. It would not take long for the Office of State Protection to take control of the scene over from local policja forces and begin their own investigation. As black smoke spiraled into the morning sky, CCTV footage from the previous stations were quickly gathered. Within a few hours there was footage of a man boarding Carriage 3, mid thirties, heavy jacket, no luggage. Facial recognition algorithms flagged him with an 85% probability as Kemal Hazar, an ethnic Kurd who had been issued one of the Senator Marek's Digital Refugee visas. The Office of State Protection would reach out to the Turkish Government to better identify the man.

Though unconfirmed, speculation spread rapidly throughout Poland. Right-winged citizens would use social media tying the event to Kurdish separatist terror. Back in Warsaw, the King would summon his Council of Ministers to discuss the situation. At the same time, OSP were working to locate Kemal Hazar's place of residency, with the failures of the digital visa safeguarding pertinent information, to save the asylum seekers from spies of the new Turkish government.

As investigators sifted through the wreckage, a more troubled thread began to emerge. Initial forensics suggested military-grade explosives, the king not typically accessible to the insurgent groups acting alone. And in the wreckage of Carriage 3, a scorched but partially intact was the casing of a classified ministry-issued laptop, the encryption routines on it redacted from even the Office of State Protection logs.

 

[ManBear]

Warsaw, Poland - January 7, 2007

The sirens had barely faded over the twisted tracks of the PKP high-speed line when the political fault lines within the Kingdom of Poland began to crack wide open. In Warsaw, smoke still lingered in the air as emergency crews continued to pick through the twisted steel and charred debris, the death toll rising with each passing hour. The Monarchy had moved quickly. Security briefings were being held in hushed tones beneath the royal palace, cabinet ministers summoned at dawn, and a heavy Policja presence descended on public spaces to project control.

Inside the marbled halls of government, the fear had metastasized into suspicion.

Then came the leak.

Late on the evening of the 7th, a trove of classified internal documents surfaced in the inboxes of select media outlets. Originating from the Office of State Protection, the files alleged that Marta Nowak's controversial "digital asylym initiative", which had granted sanctuary and encrypted access to dissidents and whistleblowers, had created blind spots in national surveillance systems. Buried in the reports were names, redactions, and vague connections to foreign actors. The implication was clear. The very infrastructure meant to defend digital freedom may have offered to cover violent extremists.

The political firestorm was immediate and all-consuming. Sejm exploded in accusations and counteraccusations. Opposition leaders demanded Marta's resignation while her allies insisted the leak was a smear campaign engineered by hardliners long opposed to her progressive platform. On state television, pundits debated over darkened graphics showing blurred faces and digital maps pulsing with threat vectors. Hashtags trended, protests erupted, and conspiracy theories flourished.

Meanwhile, inside the Royal Council, trust splintered. Some ministers whispered of betrayal and others of sabotage. And as the monarchy was caught between defending its liberal vanguard and appeasing the old guards, the Kingdom was found on the precipice of something darker than chaos: paralysis.

---

As the Kingdom reeled from the fallout of the high-speed rail bombing, Jakub Kawiec, recently assigned to Minister Marta's protection detail as her EPO, found himself walking a tightrope between duty and conscience. Officially he had been tasked with the personal security of Minister Marta Nowak, whose forward thinking digital policies had made her a beacon of progressive hope but also a lightning rod for conservative fury. As the leaked documents came to light, Jakub took it upon himself to look over them, not as a conspiracy nutjob hoping to find something that doesn't add up but with the leaking of national intelligence documents could jeopardize his principle's safety and make her an even bigger target.

The leaked documents had indeed started a storm from their revelations. Jakub could feel their impact ripple through the corridors of power. The information, carefully selected and strategically released, painted Marta's asylum program as a gateway for extremists. Jakub didn't care whether the information was accurate or not but he did know one thing for certain. In the court of public opinion, perception was often reality. He watched as whispers turned into accusations and support curdled into suspicion. The leak wasn't just a political weapon, it was a beacon for drawing hostility and danger towards Marta herself. Jakub understood that such exposure could embolden adversaries in both politics and on the street to act against her. Protecting her was no longer about standing guard during speeches or official events. It meant anticipating threats born from fear, anger, and misinformation. Every glance over his shoulder, every tightened security detail felt heavier now. Jakub's role had expanded from bodyguard to shield against an unseen force. One fueled by not just facts but by the volatile power of leaked secrets.

---

Warsaw, Poland - January 9th, 2007

The morning had started like any other for Jakub. Waking alone in his apartment with a picture of his estranged family smiling at him from his bedside table. Now he found himself standing in the biting cold of the frigid January air wearing a heavy coat to protect the rest of his body. Though the city hummed with tension from the recent bombing and the storm of leaked documents, Jakub's focus was sharp, trained on the routing movements and security protocols that had become second nature. Like, when the Minister appeared from the building she resided in, Jakub would insure the door was open in case there was an attack. That way he would be able to get his principle into the armored vehicle quickly. He would quickly shut the door and look around the street from over the sedan before moving around the vehicle to the front passenger seat and sitting down next to the driver. The rest of the protection agents would mount up in the two other vehicles, Jakub having requested additional support following the leaked documents now that there was an even bigger crosshair on the Minister's back. With his index and middle finger extended he motioned from the driver to begin the route to the Ministry of Media and Digital Affairs.

"Silver Raven on the move." he spoke into the microphone clipped to the lapel of his suit jacket under his heavy coat. A quick examination of the vehicle showed the FB Beryl-Mini attached to the side of the passenger footwell and an opening of the glove box showed the three spare magazines for the rifle. Ministerial vehicles are armored and armed in preparation for anything.

"Fifteen minutes until we get to the Silver Raven's roost." He spoke once more into the microphone.

Then his world transformed into bright oranges, reds, and yellows as the lead vehicle was launched into the air by a large explosive. He hadn't noticed anything on the ground so it must have been either a pedestrian or another vehicle. He didn't have time to ponder that question as the solid thuds of heavy bullets impacting the bullet proof glass brought him back to the danger he found himself in.

"Breached shield, breached shield." His call went over the radio and into the heart of the Office of State Protection directorate responsible for protection details of Ministers and Foreign Dignitaries. They would know what it meant but probably had never experienced it before. A frantic reply came back over the headset. "Breached Shield confirmed. BOA has been informed. Sitrep."

"Vehicle one on fire hit by explosive device. Taking small arms fire from south and north side of road. Ballistic glass holding but we are stuck in traffic."

Another explosion ripped through the once tranquil streets as explosion ripped apart the pavement between the Minister's vehicle and the rear vehicle, sending the armored sedan containing the Minister, Jakub, and the driver over the engine bay and landing on the roof. Jakub acted quickly and unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled the FB Beryl rifle from its holdings in the footwell before opening the glove box and sending the magazines cascading to the roof of the vehicle. He was quick to place them in his pockets as he positioned himself to kick his door open. He heard the gunfire even more so now that two of the ballistic windows had shattered on impact. With a forceful kick, bracing himself on the driver's body, the door gave way and he was able to crawl out. Several rounds impacted the hardened bottom of the sedan as he leaned against the side of the overturned sedan. The smell of a sharp, acrid, and chemical odor with hints of burnt plastic, ammonia, and a faint metallic tang greeted Jakub as he prepared to engage targets. The rear vehicle, an armored SUV, had its doors open with agents inside engaging targets as they appeared.

Jakub felt the familiar recoil of the FB Beryl-Mini as he began returning fire towards the armed militants as they advanced through the busy street. This wasn't like the movies where bullets went twenty seven different ways. This was a real close quarters firefight. Blood leaked onto the asphalt as terrorists fell from 5.56x45mm rounds and Jakub was forced to take cover more than once as shrapnel from disintegrated bullets bit into his skin. In the real world firefights can last hours but unfortunately for the terrorists, BOA was not far away and the sirens could be heard getting louder as they approached. It wouldn't take long for the heavily armed counter-terrorism police force to arrive on scene and begin mopping up. Ambulances and firetrucks wouldn't be long.

 

[ManBear]

Warsaw, Poland - January 9th, 2007

The debrief room hadn't been built for comfort for those inside. Bare walls, a table bolted to the floor, and the low hum of fluorescent lights made everything feel off-balance. The design was purposeful to insure anyone inside would make mistakes if they were attempting to hide details for investigating offices. Jakub sat across from two men in plain clothes, jeans and polos. They were OSP investigations but their casual appearance clashed with their posture and clipped tones that carried the weight of senior agents. A carafe of coffee and pitcher of water sat untouched between them

"Start with the detonation," one of the said as he flipped open a leather-bound notebook. His voice was calm but there was not mistaking the undercurrent of authority and urgency underneath.

Jakub leaned back slightly as he ran the sequence of events through his head, the dull ache of a concussion resting beneath the surface of his thoughts. "The lead vehicle took the first hit. An improvised explosive, large yield. Detonation occurred maybe five or six meters ahead of the nose of the vehicle. The explosion lifted the whole front end off the road, no warning and no ground device visible. Possible mobile or a carried device."

"Mobile device?" The question didn't seem to carry he same urgency just a need for clarification.

"Vehicle born or concealed on a pedestrian. Won't be able to confirm without the forensics from the site."

This time it was the second investigators turn to speak. "And then?"

Jakub's voice came out stead but his knuckles whitened as he felt his fists clench. "We took immediate small arms fire from coordinated angles. North and south side of the street. Battle rifle calibers. I could identify Kalashnikov rifles. They targets the windshields and door seams. Ballistic glass held up for the first round of gunfire. Then the second blast hit our vehicle and it rolled over. I was able to extricate myself from the vehicle and secure the VIP before returning fire at militants before BOA's arrival on site."

"Upon BOA's arrival they engaged militants and cleared the primary threat within six minutes. Militants were either neutralized or broke contact. We were able to detain two on the scene. Last confirmation I had before coming here was seventeen confirmed civilian casualties but expected to rise."

The first investigator slid a folder containing body camera stills from BOA officers. "We're confirming identities currently and may require your assistance with that later. For now, the convoy route, who had it?"

"OSP convoy planners, my detail, the Minister's chief of staff, and the Ministry's security Liaison." Jakub's reply came out calm but gruff, the dull ache had turned sharp for a second. The silence that followed seemed to make the sharpness even worse.

"There's chatter already, media outlets asking why the attackers knew the convoy's approach route and schedule. We'll handle that. You are to get checked out by a doctor then return to your job. Medics at the scene suspected a concussion and we need to make sure there is not traumatic brain injury from the explosion. You're dismissed Agent."

"Understood, sir." Jakub answered before standing up and shaking each investigator's hand before leaving the room. As he left the room he could still feel the recoil of his FB Beryl and the feeling of his boots slipping on the bloody asphalt, sirens playing deep within his ears as he left. Someone, somewhere, had given them enough to nearly kill the Minister and himself.

Warsaw, Poland - February 11th, 2007

Sweat caused his shirt to cling to his skin as he sat up in his bed, awoken from a deep sleep by the sounds of automatic gunfire. With his hand holding the service Glock he kept with him, he listened intently for the sound of approaching gunfire but the building was eerily silent. Another nightmare replaying the convoy attack had awoken him once more. He knew it was PTSD but he also knew that if he reported it he would be removed from active duty and made to see a psychologist to ascertain whether he was a danger to himself or others and he couldn't sit on his hands that long.

Jakub's bare feet touched the cold, wooden floor as he stood up from the less than comfortable twin bed in his dilapidated apartment. He and his wife had decided it would be best if he got his own place after the attack. Him being home would open them up for reprisal attacks. At least that's what he told himself. It had nothing to do with making up in the kitchen with his service pistol in his hand at midnight with his wife and daughter staring at him. She had promised to not tell his bosses and he promised he would stay away until he was better. Now, he found himself standing in the middle of the empty living room, staring at a cork board with a list of names, photos and yarn connecting everything in his boxers and a sweat soaked t-shirt. He felt like he was going crazy. He was probably right.

Warsaw, Poland - February 12th, 2007

The snow fell in light, lazy flakes as it dusted the roofs of the armored sedans lined up in the courtyard of the Minister's residence. Jakub stood with a steaming paper cup of coffee in gloved hands. He was watching his breath curl into the dim morning air as the warm coffee kept the cold away from his gloved hands. The temperature bit through even the thick layers of his coat but he knew it wasn't the cold that had kept him awake most of the night.

Inside the residence, Minister Marta Nowark was already in a meeting with two senior OSP officers and a Ministry security adviser. Jakub hadn't been invited, protection agents rarely were, but he could hear the muffled voices throught eh heavy oak doors. Every so often he could hear her voice rise sharply, showing a tone tight with frustration. The aftermath of the convoy ambush had been chaos. Ambulances, shattered glass, and a chain of radio calls that blurred together in his memory. Now, the chaos had given way to a suffocating kind of order. More guards, more checkpoints, more protocols. Every route had to be cleared twice and every visitor vetted by two separate agencies. Even the Royal Hussars and Royal Tatars who were in charge of royal security had been issued battle equipment outside of their usual ceremonial equipment.

Jakub shifted his stance as two agents from the night shift stepped out of the building, faces pale and drawn. One of them gave him a quite update as they passed. "Press is camped outside the ministry again. Some of them are waving copies of supposed leaked files."

He nodded as his jaw tightened. The files, the same ones tying Marta's asylum program to "known extremists" had done more damage than any single bullet could do. They didn't have to be entirely true to put her in danger, they just had to be believable enough for the wrong people to act.

"Eagle-3, prep motorcade. Departure in fifteen." The soft chime in his earpiece broke through his thoughts and let training kick in.
In a single gulp, Jakub drained the last of his coffee and walked to the lead sedan. He was doing final checks on the vehicle. Door mechanisms. Undercarriage mirrors. He was working through his mental check list with methodical rhythm that kept him from thinking too much. He couldn't let his mind wander to the sound of the explosions or the way it flipped the Minister's car like a child throwing a toy in a fit of rage.

It didn't take long for the residence door to open and Minister Nowak to emerge flanked by two plainclothes officers, her coat buttoned high to protect her neck from the cold. Or a hidden blade. Her eyes scanned the courtyard with fear before catching Jakub's own eyes. Her gaze, long enough to convey her fears to him. The next attack wasn't a matter of if but when.

Warsaw, Poland - February 12th, 2007

The Minister's conference room was filled with tension. Polish oak table, high-backed leather chairs, and a half circle of security and policy advisors seated in a tight formation. Minister Nowak sat at the head of the group, her posture upright but her shoulders were held taut like a bowstring waiting for release. Next to her were neatly stacked notes next to a half-empty glass of water. The wall mounted clocked ticked steadily over the muted hum of the air system, across from her Deputy Minister Jan Zielisnki adjusted his classes and began reading from a single-page summary.

"Three major networks are refusing to pull coverage of the leaked asylum files, framing it as a matter of public transparency," he said. "Our legal injunctions will be challenged in court by the morning."

Minister Nowak's fingers tapped the edge of her notepad as she thought. "Then we pivot. I want our public statement ready by 18:00. It needs to be firm without feeding their narrative. I want facts only, no speculation."
From her right a young press liaison leaned towards her. "Minister, with all do respect, facts alone may not win the evening news cycle. The opposition is already calling for a parliamentary inquiry into your office and word is the His Majesty supports it. He won't come out and say it publicly to make it seem like his supports his elected ministers but there's scuttlebutt from some secretaries from his office."

"I'm aware," came Marta's reply, her tone even but seemingly on a knife's edge. "An inquiry isn't the same as guilt and if we react like we're cornered, we'll lose control of the narrative before we've even spoken our piece."

At the far end of the table an OSP liaison cleared his throat to draw attention to him. "For the record, we've increased your security footprint. Any public appearance in the next seventy-two hours will require layered coverage. That includes your trip to the Turkish diplomatic liaison next week."

Marta nodded once. "Make it happen. If they want to drag my name through the mud, they can do it knowing I still showed up to work."

The room went quite with the kind of silence that comes when everyone knows the stakes but no one dares to say them aloud. Outside the frosted windows, Warsaw traffic rolled past, oblivious to the fact that inside a political storm was being charted minute by minute.