The dull throb of air conditioning was keeping Jan Smyczek awake. That, and the impending plenary meeting of nationalist party leadership to try and resolve the legitimacy issue with the new parliament. Wálløm Toömœð, whom Smyczek had replaced as party head after Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè's defection threw the party leadership into chaos, had firmly refused to back down on the issue of election reform even as the major parties were taking huge beatings by boycotting the election. Marshal Hantili's castigating speech hadn't help things, either.
He heaved up out of bed, thumping across the hardwood floors toward the kitchen for a glass of water. It was early morning but Sargedain was still bustling, although slowly, and he looked down out the window of his luxury apartment at the glittering city, a city that looked nothing like the one he had known when his parents left their home and came to Snefaldia.
Now look! Highrises and technology, the filthy dockside sumps gentrifying into artists colonies and wholesale markets, pushing the urban derelicts into the suburban sprawl growing around the outskirts of Dain's city. An immigrant's son, risen to high office in the States-Federation, Foreign Affairs Minister, Deputy in Parliament, Party Chairman... Such progress had been made, and all it would take for that progress to continue was for him to stand his ground and force Tahye Woelmey out of office. He had a meeting with top Republican and Homeland Front leaders in the morning, they could definitely hash out an arrangement before the party congress and force another election.
Something caught his eye in the streets below- flashing lights and emergency blockades around the building, huge vehicles in army camo labeled... he couldn't quite see what. He frowned, and walked to pick up his phone and figure out what was going on when heavy knocks on the door jarred him out of the silent evening. Muffled voices yelled through the door.
“Chairman Smyczek! Are you all right? This is the police. Can you hear us?”
“I'm coming!” he said, throwing on his bathrobe and leaving his phone on the table. “What's all this about? It's the middle of the goddamn night!”
He threw open the door and stood there, his confusion freezing him in place. Instead of municipal police officers with their deep navy and gold uniforms, his hallway was filled with armed soldiers in full battle kit, hardened faces and frowns.
“Jan Smyczek?” one man asked, stepping forward.
“I- what is this about?” he said, wanting to take a step back.
“You are under arrest for treason against Snefaldia and her People. Cuff his hands- make sure his phone comes with us.”
* * *
4:00 AM, Sargedain North Railway Station
Andrew Holbrook preferred to travel as incognito as possible, simply because he found it more comfortable than wearing the traditional clerical robes of Aatem Nal. Those in his retinue did not always do the same, though, which did not bother him. It was amusing to see others mistaken for the Grand Library of Serasarda, only to sheepishly point to him wearing his simple tweed suit, looking like a professor on holiday.
He was also pleased with the early, early departure time for the train back to Serasarda. He insisted on traveling by train frequently as it gave him a chance to see what was going on in the countryside, and to mix with a class of people the top leadership of the Order did not usually get. It was also a chance to him to indulge in the pageantry of the changing countryside, something air travel could never give him. He was due in Serasarda for meetings in the afternoon and his consultation with the Sargedain Conclave heads had ended early. The other Loremasters and Inquisitors in his traveling party were still sleepy, however, and were dozing on the benches. They had long gotten used to Holbrook's dislike of the official elitism of his post.
He happily sipped a coffee, watching the early morning travelers come through- migrant workers on cheap trains, young professionals on business trips into and out of the bustling capital, some families taking vacations and getting an early start, probably going up to Sring Issa before the cold set in. There were armed military police officers patrolling as well, and he smiled good-naturedly at the servicemen. Travel security was high since the assassination attempt on Chancellor Dirh in Thiestilm.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the coffee and starting a deep-breathing exercise to calm his mind and focus his pnemonic memory. Suddenly he felt a sense of dread, creeping and pervasive, wriggling up his toes and fingers. He opened his eyes and nudged his snoozing secretary, curled up awkwardly on the brushed metal bench.
“Something is wrong.” He said, and as the secretary stirred, blinking sleepily, the Grand Librarian watched the military police listen to their radios, nod, and then begin walking toward the traveling clerics. He calmly but quickly shook his other companions. “Get up. Something is going on.”
Suddenly they were surrounded by armed guards, men and women with hard faces and assault weapons. Walking up to an elderly and distinguished Loremaster who never wore anything other than his elaborate ceremonial robes, a youngish office gave a perfunctory bow.
“Grand Librarian Andrew Holbrook?” he asked, and it was with a great sadness that the old one's eyes grew wide, then narrowed. He sensed in his friend the determination of the lie, and saw the nod of the old head. The office paused, and then the determination failed him and his old eyes briefly turned toward Holbrook himself.
The officer turned with a frown, looked him up and down, and set his mouth in a harsh near-smile. “Grand Librarian Andrew Holbrook?” he said, walking over.
“One would think you would have my picture.” he said simply. “How can this servant of the Great Teacher assist you?”
“You must come with us. Your party is in danger, there has been a credible threat on your life.”
“I do not fear death and neither do my fellow scholars.”
“Nevertheless, you must come with us.”
“I do not have do any such thing.”
“Then you are under arrest. Bring them all.”
* * *
4:10 AM, 1 Ministry Circle, High Chancellor's Office, Sargedain
Tahye Woelmey could not sleep, there was too much running through her head- regional issues, Knootian trade numbers, Daytan missile positions, regional unemployment, and perhaps most heavily the unusual cancellation of a meeting between her and the chiefs of the High Command. She'd been up half the night with War Minister Ubathavar going over her plans to reorganize the armed forces and eliminate the redundancies left over from the Bel's days.
Hantili's speech a few months back had rattled her, but her election (that was another mess to be sorted) had left the situation between the Field Marshal and herself squarely in the master-servant domain; she was Lord Chancellor and her served at her pleasure. He was too important to replace, of course, and he was an excellent administrator, and their working relationship was not as acrimonious as their political one, however unseemly she thought it.
Ubathavar had gone out ten minutes ago to return home; they had a cabinet meeting at 10am. The threat of Smyczek's looming party congress and new elections to clean up the mess of the Nationalist-Republican boycott had to be dealt with, and soon. Ilionas Sondrasai's resignation as Foreign Minister, and his quick departure back to Neer Dal had to be solved as well- damn the half-elf!
She pulled some hairpins away and let her long blonde hair release itself as she leaned back. A knock came at the door- probably Zira with her coffee.
'Come.' she said, her eyes closed. After a moment of silence she opened them. It wasn't Zira.
“Captain Tuntiyya? What can I do for you at this godforsaken hour?” she said, surprised the commander of the Gendarmes would be here to see her.
“Ma'am. Elements of the military have arrested Jan Smyczek, Astar Sardavar, Grand Librarian Holbrook, and dozens of other top political leaders. Khoung Davijic Tukka was killed in a prison riot at 3 AM, and the lefist party leaders James Choi and Pransa Astar have been shot resisting arrest.”
She stared for a moment, her head spinning as he spilled out the list of names- arrested, detained, killed, injured, armed police, soldiers soldiers soldiers. She could only ask one thing.
“I need to see Hantili.”
“I've got him en route. It looks like a military coup, ma'am. Please come with me.”
1 Ministry Circle seemed deserted, and the eeriness didn't sink in until they were almost to the loading dock, and she then realized Tuntiyya's men weren't wearing the usual Gendarmerie uniforms. Her usual bodyguards weren't there, and neither was Zira.
“Captain...” she started to say as they stepped out into the service dock, and her eyes focused on the military armored car and the figure of Field Marshal Pairi Hantili in his grey, featureless soldier's tunic standing with a cadre of dangerous-looking commandos. She recognized General Ta'us Broma'a standing alongside, humorless as usual.
“What is going on here?” She started to say, turning on her politician's anger, but a short blow to the back of her head cut her off.
“Put her in the APC. Tell he she's under arrest when she wakes up.” Hantili said, turning to get into his car.
* * *
5:00 AM, TV/Radio/Internet Stream Broadcast
“My Snefaldian brothers and sisters, this is Field Marshal Pairi Hantili speaking, your Chief of the Army High Command. Today your brave servants in the armed forces have taken steps necessary to resolve the ongoing political crisis and restore legitimacy to the government of the people of Snefaldia. These past months we have seen greater political misbehavior than at any other point in the history of our great country, and the ineffectiveness the rapid democratization of our glorious nation has resulted in political opportunism and dangerous factionalism. Dangerous political extremists from both ends of the spectrum have been guilty of corrupting our States-Federation, have sought to sell Snefaldia to international vultures and opportunists within the so-called Parties.
We sworn officers of the Snefaldian Armed Forces could not stand idly by and accept the degeneration of our nation's expansion and revival, an expansion and revival that began under the Holy Teacher and was ushered into the 21st century under the wise leadership of the Tuhran Bel. Inspired by the shining example of Dain-da-Hol, whose august name adorns our very capital, we sworn officers have sought to excise the polluting elements from Snefaldia and have placed the government into the hands of those brave volunteers of the Snefaldian Army, Navy, and Air Force until such time as proper government is restored.
But, my brothers and sisters, this work of revival and rejuvenation cannot continue without the rectification and judgment of those who worked to break it apart. Your servants in the armed forces have sought to arrest many who, over the past year, made mockery of your government and ceased to serve the citizens of the States-Federation, opening our country to international ridicule and weakening our state. Aid the work of the High Command in restoring our nation to greatness and continuing the development of the country. With the blessings of our ancestors and the teaching of the Great Teacher we will prevail."
