From the Ashes [Closed]

[Maltropia]

Corcaigh Nua
January 2^nd

The chamber was a relic of an age long gone, the era of Maltropian imperialism long since relegated to the history books, and a testament to the grandeur and prosperity the Royal Kingdom had once enjoyed as the heart of a great trading empire. Now, with any ideas of expansionism well and truly dead and buried, Maltropia was at the lowest point it had been in within living memory. No war had had so far-reaching an effect as had the Northern Paradoxian Crisis, with the eastern counties laid to waste and the ports of Aghabullogue and Torres left burning. Now, many long months after the fragile peace in the north had been shattered, the findings of the inquiry that had been launched in its aftermath were to be released in this very room.

It was a long room, furnished mostly in wood with three centuries of varnish. About half of its length was filled with benches very like church pews, high-backed and uncomfortable, with a central aisle leading from the wide double doors dividing them down the middle. Windows stretched from chest height to the ceiling, three metres up, and golden midmorning sunlight streamed through the southeast panes, illuminating the entire chamber and its many occupants. For the benches were filled, mainly with government officials, a scattering of nobles from both Councils, and at least a dozen military officers. At the head of the room was a courtroom-like set of podia, at which were seated the King, in his official garb as commander-in-chief of the Royal Military, Proinsias Ó Manacháin, Minister of War, Caitlín Ní Ghráda, a judge of the Ardcúirt, and several other representatives of all levels of Maltropian government. Facing this intimidating array was a table with three chairs, the central one occupied by Admiral Caoimhín O' Rourke and those flanking him by members of the inquiry board.

As is the time-honoured tradition, the room was abuzz with murmured conversations as each person present tried to tell his neighbour what he had heard would be revealed here. Some were frantically whispering that the monarchy would soon be abolished; others were insisting that the entire state would soon be towed to moor near Yohannes or ViZion; one group near the doors were impassioned in their claims that soon a great iron wall would be put up all around the frontier and Maltropia would never see light again. As the noise reached a fever pitch, a deeply resounding bell outside announced the hour. Without a word, the group at the bench rose in unison, and in an instant silence descended on the room like a sudden rain. King Brendan spoke in solemn tones in a loud, clear voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, honoured members of the Councils of Nobles, members of government both local and national, distinguished representatives of our military, free citizens of the Royal Kingdom; we are gathered here today to receive and review the findings of the Inquiry into the Northern Paradoxian Crisis, commissioned by the Office of the King and the Ardcúirt of Maltropia on May the 27th, the year of our Lord two-thousand and twelve. To act in the role as spokesman of the Inquiry board is present here today Admiral Caoimhín O' Rourke of the Royal Navy. Admiral O’ Rourke, you were appointed as head of the Inquiry board because of your perceived honesty and leadership abilities and your unstained record with the Royal Navy. Do you swear to uphold the principles of that institution, to tell nothing but the truth as best you know it and to conceal no facts from this panel?"

O’ Rourke had risen the first time his name was mentioned; now, with all eyes and ears focused on him, he stated simply, "I do."

Nodding, the King replied, "Then present your report, Admiral."

Picking up a bound file easily a hundred pages in length, the commander of the 1st Royal Fleet turned to the first page and began his initial statement.

"This is the report on the Northern Paradoxian Crisis; specifically, the manifold factors which contributed to the diplomatic and economic disaster in the east and to the mutiny of a portion of the Royal Navy, and in which shall be presented a number of possible solutions as researched and considered by the Inquiry board. At the outset, I shall synopsise the findings of the report, that rumours may be put to rest and context be provided for the remainder of the document."

Eyebrows raised, Judge Ní Ghráda interjected. "This is far from common procedure, Admiral."

"I accept that, your Honour," O’ Rourke replied, "but this is a point which I shall also be addressing in the report; and we must all admit that, the document being several hundred pages in total, a brief summary would be welcomed by many present."

The King cut across an attempted retort by the judge, saying "It most certainly will be. Please, continue, Admiral."

Acting as though no interruption had ever taken place, O’ Rourke launched into the summary of the report. "In the text of this document, I will be examining in considerable detail many of the factors which led to the diplomatic crisis of the past year. What the Inquiry has determined to have been the principle factors are, in the briefest possible terms, as follows:
"Too great a level of trust with too weak a foundation in fact with regard to regional diplomacy; excessive authority being granted to individual military commanders, particularly admirals in the Royal Navy; a failure by centralised regional authorities to adequately respond to a rapidly escalating scenario; insufficient defensive infrastructure for a prolonged engagement, in any theatre; too great a reliance on regional trade, particularly that of neighbouring states, rather than overseas commerce; a lack of interagency cooperation, both domestic and with the intelligence services of other nations.
Each of these factors, and several more in addition, will be detailed in full in the course of this report."

The formalities that followed served little purpose other than to review the events that had caused the war, and it was over an hour before O’ Rourke finally started on the first point he had mentioned in his summary.

"Esteemed members of the panel, if you will turn to page twelve of your copies of the report, we now come to the discussion of the first of the factors mentioned at the start of this review. We shall begin with the section on regional diplomacy.
"Prior to the crisis, the Hanseatic League of Northern Bigfootia was a major trading partner of the Royal Kingdom’s, both a source of our imports and target of our exports. Several major state-sponsored capital investments served to improve this trade, most notably the Great Espian Highway system which provided a direct link from Bigfootia to many major cities of the Deasóir. In several past conflicts, with such nations as Rithian, among others, we and the Hanseatic League cooperated in the interests of regional stability. Yet, for all that we are major trading partners and share many of the same views, there remains not one substantive treaty between our two nations. In the event of the crisis, it was proven that an absence of concrete ties led to an atmosphere of distrust. Had we worked together in investigating the death of the Anderian ambassador, what resulted would never have gone beyond random terrorist attacks, but now our standing in Paradoxia lies in tatters.
"Obviously the solution here lies in new treaties, to be drafted without delay, if we are to avoid a recurrence. So therein lies the first recommendation of the Inquiry board; for the preservation of regional stability, Maltropia must undertake to sign new accords with her neighbours and fellow Paradoxian nations. Most crucially, we must continue to emphasise the importance of trade. The more Northern Bigfootia relies on our trade, and we on theirs, the less risk there is of war breaking out again."

As the Admiral turned a page, the Judge seized on the pause to pose a question. "Admiral, you stated in your... synopsis... that we were excessively dependent on regional trade, and now you tell me the Inquiry board would advocate utter reliance on one neighbour?"

To her surprise, O' Rourke smiled as he replied. "Not entirely, your Honour. What we are proposing is that we encourage or even subsidise our firms to operate within Bigfootia, as much as they possibly can. With such measures in place, a war with Maltropia would severely harm their trade - and, they will be quick to realise that the situation is mutual. If we could neutralise all enemies in such a way the world would be a more peaceful and more prosperous place, but this should be sufficient to pacify northern Paradoxia for years to come."

With O' Rourke's response finished, the King rose and addressed the whole chamber. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I realise this is most fascinating for us all, but we have been here long enough to deserve an adjournment. I hope to see you all back here in an hour and a half."

The large chamber emptied swiftly; this conclave was going into far more detail than anyone had expected, and it was growing tedious fast. Little did anyone realise how much this event would affect their lives and the entire future of Maltropia.

[Maltropia]

King Brendan was the first to return from the adjournment. He was a good ten minutes early, having excused himself from his lunch with Judge Ní Ghráda on grounds of queasiness. Listening to her had indeed made him feel somewhat ill; how could anyone talk so interminably about the most tedious of trials? Now he was back in this room, which had once been known as the Grand Chamber of the King's Royal Council of Nobles of Corcaigh Nua. Now it didn't even have a name, and was almost never used, the Nobles having moved to a newer building where they could use their laptops with impunity. Brendan sighed. So much had changed for Maltropia, even just in recent years, and in this war most of all. There had been a time when Paradoxians had stronger ties and closer relations, and when wars had been fought with honour. Now... well, it was a miracle the monarchy had lasted to the present day, and that had come at a high price with the December Declaration of more than three years previously. To the casual observer, Maltropia was prospering, and there was no doubt that it had become a major player in global trade, but even the renowned devout Catholicism of the Royal Kingdom was being eroded, albeit slowly.

"Is it worth it, this lofty price we pay? Or in seeking to gain more do we lose all we have suffered for?" he asked of the room, quoting a famous Maltropian playwright from a bygone era.

"Who can tell the terms of every barter? Is there any man who sees all ends?" came a voice behind him, giving the reply from the same play.

Turning to face the new sound, Brendan was surprised to see Admiral O' Rourke approaching him. He glanced up at the clock: still seven minutes left. There was time yet. "I was just in the middle of a reverie."

O' Rourke smiled understandingly. "This room does evoke nostalgia, sire. Could I hazard a guess?"

Sighing, the King shook his head. "It shouldn't be too hard, Caoimhín. I'm worried for my country's future. If we carry through on this, I fear that our land may be irrevocably changed. We could be throwing away five hundred years of beautiful history here."

"And if we don't? What will become of Maltropia? Would you do nothing and abandon this country to the depredations of those who would do us harm? Maltropia is an old realm, and proud, but we cannot let our pride stand in the way of our survival. It was narrow-minded traditionalism that nearly lost us the Deasóir. It may hurt, but we need change."

"And how much will it hurt? Whatever of necessity; we cannot lose sight of what we were and have been. Tradition is not always a limitation, but the Lord knows I've broken with enough already in my time. Are these changes really for the better, Caoimhín?"

"Some are, some aren't, but that's always the way of things. If there were any easy way to fix all our problems, sire, I'd have put it forward and this review would have taken five minutes, but we've spent year after year pushing forward at an incredible rate. It all had to catch up some time. You read the report?"

Brendan scoffed. "Of course I read it. It's precisely because I read it that I'm so concerned about this fork in the road. Yes, many of these changes are essential if we are to carry on forward. I cannot deny that there were some serious problems in the military's structure that should have been addressed forty years ago, nor will I dispute that, had the MCA even considered phoning the Bigfootians, the war might never have started. But doing what we're doing now feels like we're abandoning everything that has been built since that day in 1603. No, don't say what you're going to say," he said, forestalling an interruption by O' Rourke, "I accept that this is inevitable, but I feel that Maltropia is changing from what it was, and I don't like it."

A wry smile formed on the Admiral's face. "The world changed first, sire, so we have a better track record so far. I think we could be forgiven for following suit." The smile disappeared again as the sounds of a sizeable group nearing the chamber carried in. "Ugh," he groaned, "our enraptured audience. I'm taking bets on how much they've thinned out over lunch."

Already moving towards his seat, the King laughed quietly to himself. "However tedious this may be, there's not a man among them who wants to be remembered as an absentee. They may not know what's going on, but they intend to find out so that they can tell their own astounded audiences about my insanity and insist it's time I stepped down. The Islanders are already hounding me about O' Shaughnessy's mutiny. I don't see why they can't just go after their Viceroy. That's why he's there, after all."

"Boys will be boys," answered the Admiral, seating himself just as the heavy oaken doors swung open and admitted the crowd. He began leafing quickly through the main document to find the page he'd left off at, mostly to avoid making eye contact with Judge Ní Ghráda as she returned to her own seat. Of all the Ardcúirt judges he'd met, none had so abrasive a personality as Caitlín Ní Ghráda. The Minister of War, Proinsias Ó Manacháin, was visibly cowed by her presence.

The murmur that had just entered the room quietened quickly as the King and his panel rose once again, bringing the inquiry back into session. Ó Manacháin now spoke for the first time, as they were moving into the military analyses of the report. "Admiral, I would ask that we move onto the second topic outlined in the report, that being the issue of power distribution among senior officers in our Royal Military."

As O' Rourke nodded and turned to the relevant bookmark, he was interrupted by the King. "Hold that thought a moment, Minister. Let's have a quote for the reporters gathered here. Tell us the solution to the problem. We've all read the report anyway," Brendan said casually, knowing full well that Ní Ghráda hadn't.

The Admiral cleared his throat and nodded again. "Of course, sire. As we stated in the, uh, the file, document, what made possible the defection of a substantial body of our naval personnel, which permitted them to wage a separate war of retribution upon our eastern neighbour, was the trust that was assumed for all the officers of the Royal Navy, and the lack of any sort of viable fail-safe in the event of a large scale defection. Each fleet was, essentially, under the ultimate authority of its own admiral, and it was virtually impossible for any subordinate officer - or, indeed, superior officer, as we found out almost immediately - to prevent the mutiny from taking place."

His fingers tapping impatiently, Brendan interrupted yet again. "And the solution, Admiral?"

O' Rourke took a quick mouthful of water, swallowed, and put down the report, taking a moment to compose himself. "Oh, well," he said, "we scrap the whole system."

A whisper of shock and incomprehension went through the whole room as the Judge sputtered. "What?" she exclaimed, as the hubbub in the chamber crescendoed into uproar. Forlornly, the Admiral sighed to himself. It was going to be a long session.