The newly formed Iberian Regional Defense Committee's very first act was to send a desperate plea to the International Communist Party.
It was a letter written with agonizing sincerity, essentially saying: 'Comrades, brothers, please spare our lives. We have faithfully paid our dues until now...'
The reply that returned was brief.
[APPROVED]
"I knew it!"
"To the benevolence of Comrade Vladimir and the Party, we are forever indebted..."
Countless sacks of flour and cement were channeled through the Gaul Soviet Republic and shipped to Iberia via the inner sea—a route spared from the predation of Sea Terrors. Despite some losses to bandits and land pirates, a significant portion of the supplies successfully reached the Regional Defense Committee.
With the backing of the International Communist Party, the Iberian Regional Defense Committee immediately commenced development.
They distributed the secured grain as equitably as possible among the residents and refugees within their controlled zones. Simultaneously, they salvaged the shattered roads just enough for wagons to traverse. Accepting the harsh reality that the salt-poisoned soil could no longer sustain life, they pooled their meager remaining resources to construct primitive hydroponic farms.
The water required purification, almost no one knew how to manufacture nutrient solutions, and the windmills and waterwheels intended to replace electricity ground to a halt every night.
Nevertheless, the sight of leaves sprouting from the water offered the people a tenuous grasp on hope.
Aid from the International Communist Party was requested in the name of the Iberian Communist Party and granted without political preconditions.
However, it was not enough to fully rebuild a collapsed Iberia.
It was a quantity meant only to slow the pace of the disaster, a measure to delay the finality of the collapse.
Warehouses emptied the moment they were filled. Ration cards promised survival, but they could not promise prosperity.
The people learned that distinction quickly. The speed at which the ration lines lengthened always outpaced the growth of the grain.
Furthermore, the Regional Defense Committee declared an end to ethnic discrimination and began accepting Aegirs.
Though most Aegir royal engineers in the south had already been lynched and killed, some lucky Aegirs managed to flee inland. While they were still met with gazes filled with hatred, they were at least spared from being beaten to death.
At the Federation's request, these Aegir scientists migrated to the UTSSR 'of their own volition' in exchange for even more food aid for the Regional Defense Committee. It was an arrangement that benefitted the Aegirs, the Federation, and the Iberians alike.
In the meantime, the Regional Defense Committee organized a military force, christening it the Union Militia.
Its purpose was to expand the controlled zones and maintain public order within them.
Enlisting for the promise of meager food rations, the men picked up crude spears and marched into the mire.
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A wagon caravan from the Regional Defense Committee attempted to clear the mountain pass before sunset.
To call the path a road would have been an insult to the term.
Temporary stretches of gravel would suddenly vanish, replaced by the jagged remains of collapsed stone bridges. Naturally, the caravan moved at a snail's crawl.
The Union Militia fanned out to both sides, standing guard. The land of Iberia was now a haven for bandits and marauders.
That day was no different.
Smoke rose from the mouth of the pass. It was the smoke of a campfire.
Fire meant people, and in a place far from any village, people usually meant bandits. The militia leader raised his hand.
Spears were lowered. Shadows flickered at the edge of the forest.
First one, then two, then three appeared.
They lacked the typical disorder and restlessness of bandits. The militia leader's throat went dry. This was not a pack of starving thieves; this was an organization.
The opposing side seemed to sense the same. The grating sound of metal echoed—swords sliding from their scabbards. Then, the heavy thud of objects being placed on the ground; the dull weight of hand cannons meeting stone.
A few members of the Union Militia flinched. They had never seen a gun before, but they knew what one was. Firearms were something Iberia no longer possessed. It occurred to them that this might be a raiding party from Laterano.
The militia leader grit his teeth.
"Halt. If you approach further, we will fire."
It was a flimsy threat. Their spears and swords were crude, and while their crossbows were spanned, bolts were scarce.
Yet, the militia leader did not retreat. If this caravan was plundered, it was certain that thousands would starve to death.
Just then, a voice drifted from the other side.
"You are the ones who should halt. You have entered the territory of the Inquisition."
The Inquisition. The word was not unfamiliar to the militia.
Rumors had reached them. It was said to be an organization comprised of the remnants of the old Imperial Army, where each soldier possessed formidable combat prowess.
Tightening his guard slightly, the militia leader spoke.
"Inquisition or otherwise, our supplies are passing through. Do not approach."
At that moment, more shadows emerged from the woods. The strangers wore unified uniforms, carried sophisticated weapons, and moved with iron discipline.
Both sides took aim at one another. A single mistake would lead to a massacre.
Breaths were held. The silence was so absolute that the sound of someone swallowing saliva seemed exaggerated.
Then, the smoke shifted. Between the ribbons of smoke rising from the campfire, a scrap of fabric fluttered.
At the rear of the opposing group stood a flagpole bearing the colors of the State Church.
The militia leader's eyes narrowed. "The State Church...?"
As those words left his lips, someone from the Union Militia untied a cloth fastened to a wagon and held it aloft. Over the hastily unfurled red fabric, a blue wave pattern appeared.
It was the banner of the Iberian Communist Party.
A man stepped forward from the front of the Inquisition's line. The surrounding Inquisitors synchronized their breathing with him; when he tilted his head, the entire group moved in unison.
The man's hand lowered, and the muzzles of the guns drifted slightly off-target. He stared at the Communist flag held by the Union Militia and exhaled a short breath.
"A Communist banner... so the Party still lives. For a moment, I thought I was witnessing bandits moving plundered goods."
The militia leader lowered the tip of his spear. "We thought you were bandits as well."
The man's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "Lately, a normal group is far more suspicious. Even more so when they are armed."
With those words, weapons on both sides were gradually lowered. Someone moved forward first, palms open and empty. Confirming no ill intent, the militia lowered their weapons completely.
An Inquisition soldier fished around in his pocket and produced a cigarette. It was from a crushed pack. He counted the few remaining sticks, hesitating, but eventually offered one toward the militia.
"This is all I have left. Surely Iberians can share this much."
A cigarette emerged from the militia side as well. It was a Federation-made cigarette rolled in paper. It was damp from the sea breeze and difficult to light, but a cigarette was a cigarette.
In this hell, a cigarette was a token that one was still human, a psychic salve for the soul. Someone clicked a lighter.
The moment the tip of the cigarette glowed red, the faces of the men grew briefly warm, as if by the light of the campfire. The Inquisition soldier exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Our Iberia... really is..."
His voice trailed off. No one answered. To speak was to confirm the reality that Iberia was ruined.
Meanwhile, the militia leader addressed the man who had spoken first. "Are you... Carmen?"
The man nodded. "Indeed. I am the Grand Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Carmen i Iberia."
There was a weight to that name. The militia leader had heard stories of how this man had rejected the Papal crown to remain with the Inquisition. He felt that this man was far better than those militia groups still siding with the Royal Family and maintaining hostility toward them.
Carmen looked at the insignia of the Union Militia once more.
"Do you control the northern region from here?"
The militia leader spoke with the cigarette still in his mouth. "We do. But even dealing with our fellow Iberians is exhausting."
Carmen closed his eyes for a fleeting second, then opened them again. They were eyes that seemed to have finished a calculation.
"Just like us. No matter how strong an Inquisitor may be, we cannot cover all of Iberia. The south is too vast, the refugees too many. And the Church of the Deep... it is seeping in like water."
At the mention of the Church of the Deep, the air around the campfire grew cold again. To break the tension, Carmen threw out a conclusion.
"If you have any desire to save Iberia, there is no reason for us to make enemies of each other. We will not encroach upon your jurisdiction. You have no need to point your blades at our south. Shall we share what is needed? That is all that is possible right now."
The militia leader understood the risk in those words. Sharing what was needed meant becoming a community of shared destiny. But there was no reason to refuse.
In today's Iberia, refusal was suicide.
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A few days later, the Committee witnessed the moment the sea reached out its hand into their world once again.
A small swarm of Sea Terrors had targeted a supply wagon deep inland. The militia rushed out, forming a formation and leveling spears as if facing bandits.
However, the enemy was no bandit. They knew no fear. They were not intimidated by the numbers of humans crowding them; instead, the Sea Terrors lunged without hesitation, inflicting catastrophic damage on the militia units.
The skirmish was brief, but the losses were severe.
"I wondered why the Imperial Army was nowhere to be found inland... I see why the Empire fell."
"We cannot stop them with our current level of training. Perhaps we should request a military advisory group from the International Communist Party?"
It was then that the Committee realized the truth. With their current strength, they could crush bandits, but what came from the sea could not be stopped by such weapons.
Thus, the decision was swift.
"We will... cooperate with the Inquisition...!"
The Regional Defense Committee officially requested negotiations with the Inquisition. A second meeting was arranged.
This time, it was held in a demilitarized zone rather than a hostile border. The Committee brought a list of food and medical supplies, while the Inquisition brought their military plans and strength reports.
The moment they laid their cards on the table, the conversation became much more human. Carmen spoke first.
"The fact that the Sea Terrors have come this far inland means that if we fail to stop them now, any hope of Iberia's recovery will vanish. Now is not the time to protect our respective names, but to protect the name of Iberia."
The Committee representative replied, "We are well aware. However, we will govern our own sectors. We can trust you in military matters, but we cannot entrust you with domestic administration."
Though the words might have been offensive, Carmen simply nodded without a change in expression. He laid out the terms.
"Then let us do this. Your Union Militia and our Inquisition shall establish a joint defense line and share intelligence regarding the Church of the Deep and the Sea Terrors. In exchange, we will recognize your administrative rights. However, should your side allow chaos to fester, we will intervene."
"Hmm... that seems reasonable."
Now, they needed a name for the agreement. They needed a banner to convince the people beneath the flags of two different organizations. They needed a signpost to show that a living Iberia had not yet lost the outward form of a 'nation.'
They pulled forth a broken name: The Iberian Empire.
The agreement concluded with the logic of 'One Country, Two Systems.'
The North would be governed by the Regional Defense Committee. The South would be governed by the Inquisition. Respective jurisdictions would be respected. Necessary resources would be shared. They would fight together against their common enemies: Sea Terrors, pirates, and the Church of the Deep. And when Iberia stabilized, the future of their relationship would be renegotiated.
The final clause of the document was the most honest. It admitted that since a conclusion could not be reached now, it would be postponed. The signatures were not grand, but everyone accepted them.
They knew that without each other, there would be no tomorrow.
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I was lucky enough to take this photo.