The King is Dead, Long Live the King!
Continuation from this thread.
The Realm of Cotland was in a proverbial state of shock and national mourning, something which didn't come as a big surprise to anyone who hadn't been living underneath a rock for the past year. The global pandemic, known as the Influenza A (H16A2) to the medical professionals, or simply the Cottish Flu to the rest of the world's population, had ravaged Cotland and its immediate surroundings for the better part of eight months, following the massive outbreak in late November, 2008.
It had started out slowly, with a small portion of the population getting infected and calling in sick from work, making it a minor nieusance for the employers but not really anything threatening to the goings on of everyday business, but when the illness didn't subside and more and more people belonging to the workforce began getting sick and staying home from work, things started getting bad. It got worse when the medical professionals also caught the virus and were unable to go to work, while the lines of sick people swarming the emergency rooms, medical clinics and hospitals throughout Cotland just kept growing, the ball had began rolling down the slippery slope. Things turned from bad to critical in mid-January, with some 40% of the workforce knocked out of action and the death tolls began climbing dramatically. On January 19, the Government finally declared that a State of Emergency existed in Cotland and ordered the Armed Forces to deploy and assist the emergency services along with all possible reserves. On January 30, news broke that several members of the Cabinet had been infected by the virus, and three days later, on Monday, February 2, 2009, the Council State of Nerotika took advantage of the Cottish distress and launched an invasion of Cottish territory in Russia, getting the upper hand quickly and driving the weakened Cottish forces northwards, back towards the Scandinavian heartlands. The advance had finally been brought to a halt on February 25, when the Cottish forces had reached the Karelian Ithmus where they had been able to take advantage of the terrain and consolidate their depleted forces into a strong defensive position called the Hallgrim Line.
While the Nerotikans had been invading Cotland, things had turned even worse back in Cottish-controlled territory. The Cottish Flu had a massive mortality rate, and people were dying by the thousands every single day, either in a hospital or emergency field hospital somewhere, or alone in their own beds. On February 11, Prime Minister Sverre Gardason had succumbed to the illness as the first of a five-day death spree that would see the Cabinet reduced to a single surviving minister, namely the Commerce Minister who had been whisked away to a emergency government bunker when the pandemic had been declared in order to preserve some semblance of government. Even worse, on February 19, His Majesty King Haakon VIII, King and Head of State of the Realm of Cotland also perished, depriving the Cottish people of the voice that had provided comfort and inspiration to his people as the illness continued, venturing out from the relative safety of the Royal Palace to the sick in hospitals and refugee camps in order to help spread hope and comfort to his beleaguered people. It was suspected that the King had been infected when he had visited an Internally Displaced Refugee camp in Finland in early February, where the Cottish Flu had really ravaged among the poor unfortunates that had been driven from their homes by the Nerotikan hordes. At any rate, the King’s death marked the final breakdown as society crumbled. As there were no one left to enforce the laws of society, nor any remaining symbol that could keep the fabrics of society together, civilization simply ceased to exist. Still, many military units remained together, trying their best to support the civilian population where they were, or as was the case at the Hallgrim Line where forty thousand Cottish troops continued to hold the line, supported by Layartebian airpower and peacekeepers, to hold the barbaric hordes away from the population. Quite a few elements of the Royal Cottish Navy and Air Force had fled the country with their equipment when society finally collapsed, fleeing to the Layartebian bases in Iceland and Ireland.
The situation hadn’t started to get rectified until late May, when now interim Prime Minister Ørjan Rødberg finally reemerged from his isolation and got into touch with the Empire of Layarteb, Cotland’s closest remaining ally in the world, in order to try to get the pandemic under control. By mid-June, the first shipments of vaccines had arrived and been distributed by the remaining Cottish forces and the 100,000 Layartebian peacekeepers that had been deployed into Cotland, under the ambitious plan the Cottish had called Operation Cleansing. A month later, Operation Cleansing had been pretty much wrapped up, and historians would later consider Prime Minister Rødberg’s historic speech on July 16, 2009 to be the mark of the restoration of civilization and society in Cotland. In that speech, Rødberg had given the first grim official estimate of the Cottish Flu’s rampage through Cotland. In eight months, Cotland had gone from a vibrant population of 496,000,000 citizens to a mere 241,000,000 survivors, leaving Cotland as a depleted, devastated and highly traumatized nation.
Of those, approximately 169,000,000 of the survivors were eligible to vote in the emergency elections that had been declared in the July 16 speech, and an estimated 147,400,000 votes had been cast in the Tuesday, August 4 election. After three days of tallying the votes, the results were in and a new Parliament was elected. With the results in, the Interim President of the Parliament, Silje Nærholt had acted under the emergency powers granted her by the Constitution and asked the leader of the winning party, Terje Hole of the Conservative Party to form a Cabinet. On the evening of Friday, August 7, Mr Hole had accepted the request, and been given three weeks to assemble the new Cabinet. At noon on Monday, August 31, 2009, the new Cabinet would hopefully replace the Interim Cabinet. Interim Prime Minister Rødberg had conceded defeat and congratulated the Conservatives with the landslide victory, 53% of the votes, something which granted them a massive majority in the Parliament, on the evening of August 7, just before he was scheduled to fly westwards towards Layarteb City in order to meet with the Layartebian Emperor.
Sitting in the Layartebian-built LDC Model 005-100 customized business jet somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, Rødberg contemplated the recent events. He couldn’t get the short telephone conversation he’d had with the Layartebian Emperor right after his July 16 speech out of his head. The words still rang out loud in his head. ”The Cottish royal line has not been eradicated by the flu.” The Prince was still alive, something which had ruined all his glorious plans to quietly and discreetly convert Cotland from a constitutional monarchy into a fully fledged republic, preferably with him as President. It had been no secret that Rødberg was an avid republican who considered the monarchy to be an obsolete relic of olden times that wasn’t necessary in the modern day and age. Unfortunately, the overwhelming majority of the Cottish people didn’t share in his dislike to the monarchy, as the most recent referendum taken back in 1996 showed an 87% rating in favor of the monarchy. Rødberg had been given an opportunity of a lifetime when the flu hit, and now it had been lost. Rødberg had tried to conceal the information, but unfortunately a number of senior officials had been in the room when the Emperor had called, and the phone had been on speaker, so they had heard every word. A few days later, a small delegation of senior officers and officials had showed up at his residence late in the evening, where they had revealed that the Crown Prince had been taken to safety in Layarteb by a small, elite team of special operations operatives just after the King had died. Operation Birkebeiner they had called the plan, referring to the ancient story of how the future King Sverre I had been brought to safety over a vast mountain range in the middle of winter back in the 10th century by a small band of tribal warriors called the Birkebeiners, in order to protect him from his enemies who wanted him dead. The Birkebeiners had been considered the guardians of the Cottish Kings up till the 14th century, when they had disappeared from the annals of history.
Now, it seemed, the Birkebeiners had returned in the form of a small conspiracy of senior officers and officials who were hell-bent on ensuring the Prince’s safe ascension to his father’s throne. They had informed Rødberg in no uncertain terms that Prince Sverre would ascent to the throne, regardless of what the politicians or anyone else might want. As a result, they had managed to secure room in the back of the plane for the thirty-odd men of the 3. “Crown Prince’s Own” Platoon, the Ranger Company, of the His Majesty the King’s Guards Regiment, hand-picked and fiercely loyal professional soldiers who were sworn to protect the Crown Prince with their lives. The two other platoons of the Ranger Company (1. “King’s Own” and 2. “Queen’s Own” Platoons) were standing watch in the Chapel at Akershus Fortress where the earthly remains of the King and Queen rested, waiting for the formal Royal State Funeral, which was scheduled to take place in September when the new cabinet had been installed and things were starting to normalize somewhat. The Royal Guards in the back of the plane were dressed in regular field uniforms, their HK416Ns lying in the overhead compartments as they tried to catch as much sleep as possible on the long trans-Atlantic flight. Tomorrow, when the plane landed in Layarteb City, at least a squad, preferably the entire platoon, would get to the Crown Prince’s location as quickly as possible in order to once again carry out their mission of protecting the Royal Family. It all depended on how quickly the Layartebians would let them up there. They also had orders to ensure that Rødberg wouldn’t try to sabotage the setup, with orders to use force if he tried. A representative of Operation Birkebeiner drawn from the Diplomatic Corps would be responsible for keeping an eye on Rødberg.
Rødberg knew all this, and he also knew that regardless of what actions he took, the news would be broken some time during his stay that the Crown Prince was still alive and well. He decided that he would just have to abandon his plans and play along. The election was already lost, and the Generals in control of the Army were less likely to be supportive of a coup-de-tat, unless possibly if the idea was to put the fifteen month old child on the throne with Rødberg as his guardian… No. He rejected the idea as quickly as it came. Why would the Army, who was sworn to protect the King and the Constitution first, attack the very constitution they were meant to protect in order to achieve something that wouldn’t be questioned, namely Prince Sverre’s natural birthright to the Throne? They wouldn’t. Most likely, if Rødberg broached that topic, they’d put him before a wall and shoot him as a traitor, just like they had done last week with the Vice Admiral that had led the Fleet into exile. After a quick court-martial where the Admiral had been found guilty of desertion in a time of war, cowardice in the face of the enemy, and treason to the Fatherland, they had brought him out into the courtyard, placed him before a wall, and shot him as a traitor. The medias, among the first private enterprises to reemerge from the chaos, had loudly questioned the legality of the executions, and been countered with a harsh reply that the Articles of War, which were still in effect due to the ongoing conflict at the Hallgrim Line, permitted such actions. Imagine what the medias would say when they discovered that Prince Sverre had survived. There would be cries of joy and newfound hope for the people, yes, but there’d also be demands for answers and new material for the internet conspiracy theorists. Funny, Rødberg thought, that for once, they were actually correct for a change.
The Interim Prime Minister continued with these thoughts all through the night as the jet quietly soared high over the Atlantic Ocean, flying west towards the sunrise and morning. Estimated landing time at Layarteb City International Airport was at just past 07:00 AM local time, with a breakfast meeting with the Emperor at 09:00 AM. The two heads of government had much to discuss.
OOC: Layarteb, tag. If you want to do the hello scenes at the airport and transit to the fortress of Comhghall, go right ahead. Basically, I’m envisioning my next post to take place in the fortress with the two meeting face to face for the first time.
