Farisolan Succession Crisis (IC/MT/Closed)

by **New metro** » Wed Sep 25, 2013 7:08 pm

((Ooc: Sorry to say this but I'm going to be off line for quite awhile, my internet got shot off and I'm using a school computer right now.))

by **Farisola** » Wed Sep 25, 2013 8:17 pm

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((Unfair to give you guys such short responses given how long it's been, but I've been very busy. My apologies.))

by **Antirol** » Thu Sep 26, 2013 5:36 am

New metro wrote:((Ooc: Sorry to say this but I'm going to be off line for quite awhile, my internet got shot off and I'm using a school computer right now.))

((Ooc: Wait, you can access NS at school?! My school filtered it, along with everything else interesting.))

by **Antirol** » Tue Oct 08, 2013 6:41 am

To be perfectly honest, Delengris felt slightly overwhelmed. The room he was shown to was arrayed in an almost decadently royal fashion and was luxuriously furnished, tastefully enough for it to be stylish, but lavish in a way that made the plain suited Foreign Minister feel rather inadequate as he gazed at the spread that was laid out for him. As a high ranking member of government, Delengris and his family enjoyed a more than comfortable standard of living, but this place was almost on a level befitting the suites of the Yellow Palace.He spent a few minutes looking around, finding that his modest luggage had been neatly stowed under the spacious bed. He also noted what appeared to be a very large, flat television, which interested him greatly. Delengris was fortunate to have one at home which he had bought for his wife, but Antar TV was still a fairly new prototype technology, confined to great big, clunky systems with fairly small screens and fuzzy picture at the best of times. He had been awfully proud of his purchase, despite he fact that they were infamously expensive and had few channels, but this sleek Farisolan model put it to shame. Delengris killed a few minutes flicking through what Farisolan TV had to offer, which was unsurprisingly more and of greater variety than what the Antar models could boast. Many of the channels were seemingly devoted to music and entertainment programs - very different from what he was used to at home, which usually consisted of the crackly government update once a week and the state news channel.
With a reserved shrug, Delengris took a bottle of the ludicrously expensive wine and popped the cork. The Foriegn Minister spent a couple of curious hours taking in the Farisolan TV experience alongside the quality vintage. He was never much of a wine person, but he felt he might as well make the most of it while he could.

Later on he went searching for the quarters of the 1st Lieutenant and his men, which he found without much difficulty. Lynn was also seemingly impressed by their host's hospitality. Both men talked long into the evening, about the Crisis and of Farisola in general, eventually reminiscing about the past as men with plenty of wine at hand do. When Delengris left for his suite around half past eleven, Lynn insisted on having one of his men stationed at the Foreign Minister's door. Deciding not to make a fuss of the issue, Delengris consented to it, making his way back to his room where rest awaited him.

by **New metro** » Sun Oct 13, 2013 9:51 am

((I'm back.))

As Jason was lead out, his guards quickly formed around him. When they entered the APC which started drive down the street, the captain leaned close to Jason."So how did it go?" he asked, Jason shrugged."As well as it could have gone I suppose, still, I would like to talk with the man that is opposing Hessecs rule. Its always good to know about both sides." Jason said as the APC pulled in front of the hotel. After being guided to their room Jason used a satellite phone to call Jackson. He explained to New Metros leader how the talks had gone along with his plan to talk to the foreign chancellor. Jackson agreed to his plan but warned him to be careful.

Jason sighed as leaned back in the chair he was siring in, he feared things would get a lot more interesting soon.

by **Farisola** » Wed Oct 23, 2013 7:42 am

((LIIIIIVE))

24th of Ultis, 3253

It was late at night by now. The Antar had, hopefully, been persuaded to the rebel cause, but there was one thing they still lacked- an organized internal resistance. Batioli kicked his legs up onto the table before him, dislodging a few papers and sending them fluttering to the ground. He rubbed his forehead and looked about the room. He had shuffled his van out of Cinzia quietly after Tiair had been packed away, slipping back off the radar on the road north to Kabrog, the very heart of the beast. Now he sat in a dusty little office. This was the headquarters of the Farisolan National Front, unassuming as it was, the largest political organization to have opposed the nomination of Hessec Sebreli.

They said "we'll be with you in a minute", Iturios thought. He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes, at least. He sighed, then a click; the door swung open and a few sharply dressed men and a woman came into the room with him. The two guards in the back- one Iturios' personal guard and at this point, aide, Lieutenant Candozzi, the other an inconspicuous FNF member, quieted down. Candozzi came to Batioli's side as all of the officials settled into their seats. One of the National Front politicians clicked a pen on the desk. "Well, Foreign Chancellor... If that title is still relevant. I am Antos Trevec, leader of the Corcias Ilvevas Farisolsci. Speak."

Iturios nodded, that little shadow of unsteadiness still plaguing him. "Mr., ah, Trevec. Yes. I am Iturios Batioli, as you know. I am as strongly opposed to Hessec Sebreli's ascendence to the throne as you are, and I am sure for many of the same reasons. Perhaps it would in both of our interests to work together towards our common goal; a strong, independent Farisola?" He forced a smile. So much hinged on this.

The FNF leader, Trevec, narrowed his eyes. "And why, Mr. Batioli, should we side with you? Opposition or not, you are a politician. My organization has always been against your type. The Council of Nobles… tell me, Chancellor, why should I support you and your thirty-seven allies in the Low Council?"

Iturios cleared his throat. "It distresses me that you perceive me in that light. Mr. Trevec, I am not a dried up career politician sitting in the high council for the rest of my days. My allies in the low council are not completely unalike me. In fact, I'm quite sure you and I aren't dissimilar in many ways."

He frowned suddenly. "You're a well off young man sitting on the High Council- I've seen myself, this city, this -nation- downtrodden by your ki!-" One of the other FNF members put a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. "This is an opportunity, Mr. Trevec. Think for a moment." Trevec, indeed, thought for a moment; perhaps more than a moment. He put a hand to his chin. "Fine, Chancellor. I'm willing to hear you out."

The Foreign Chancellor nodded, continuing to speak. "I see this as an opportunity for the FNF and my faction in the government to mold the nation into what it could be. A strong Farisola under a fair regent, until Sicos comes of age; then, a strong Farisola under a moral and powerful regent, under our tutelage. We have many similar goals, Mr. Trevec. We both want Farisola to reclaim her old glory, from the days of the Republic, or perhaps even closer to now. Think of Farisola during the Chambis Wars. We were a true force in Caxias, not just a nation looking out into the distant oceans and wondering what lay beyond our confining home."

He paused a moment. There was a distant explosion. Do doubt a result of the riots that still raged around Kabrog. "You live in the belly of the beast, Mr. Trevec. You've seen yourself how opposed people are to Hessec coming into power. People are dying over it. How many more before a decision is made?" He opened up a folder and flicked through some files. He put a few photographs on the desk; mostly the same he had shown Delengris. All protestors engaging in various acts. Each one wearing that telltale yellow armband which had become a vaguely accepted symbol of what some were hailing as a revolution, though the fighting certainly wasn't intense enough to warrant that label. It was still little more than civil disobedience, albeit somewhat intense civil disobedience.

"These people need a leader," he continued. "And myself and a handful of chancellors can't provide that. They need you and the FNF. Together, all of us, you, Chancellors, the people, we can force Ludierno's hand and do away with Hessec. The possibilities are all before us. Farisola lay in the balance, and you could be the weight to tip it away from oppression."

Batioli drew his little speech to a close, tapping his fingers together. Trevec responded surprisingly quickly. "I cannot help but have some suspicion for you, Chancellor Batioli, but at the same time I find that pledging my assistance would be beneficial. If the Ducal Guard and the military are fracturing due to the debate-" He looked to Iturios, who nodded- "Then we could indeed accomplish great things. I will put my people out on the streets and start organizing protest."

The Foreign Chancellor smiled and extended a hand. "I'm glad we see things the same way, Mr. Trevec. I'll get one of my allied Chancellors with you as soon as I can; I'm afraid I can't afford to loiter in Kabrog. My enemies here in the government are many, without a doubt, and I need to rally as much support as I can elsewhere."

Trevec took the hand and shook it, still a bit tentative in his actions. "I understand, Chancellor. Good luck to you, and to us. With luck we can lead this nation out of the current dark."

Iturios nodded. "With luck."

---

Samagro had quieted down in the night. That was good for Ludierno; he could've sworn some more hair on his head had gone white in light of the issues at hand. Perhaps he should turn around and sleep instead of getting a report from his Advisor, Opolias. He didn't want any surprises right now.

The High Chancellor let out a short sigh as he opened the door into his office, pausing and considering it for a moment. It was dark; only the light of the city was illuminating it, casting ghastly shadows across his desk. Shaking his head, he opened another door to the side, entering a room normally reserved for just the secretary, though now occupied by both Opolias Namala as well as the meek little man he had enlisted to help him.

Namala looked up from a laptop and a few documents as he entered. "High Chancellor Ludierno," he said, in his typical grave tone. "I have news." Ludierno frowned. "Bad news, hm?"

Opolias simply continued on, holding a paper in front of him. "The detachment you ordered to escort the Antar reported in. Iturios Batioli came to them and said he had… reconciled… and drove off with the delegate."

Ludierno paused, quiet for a moment. "Did you tell them otherwise?" His voice was quiet, bleak. "Yes," the advisor continued. "Contacts in Cinzia say he arrived there with the delegate and brought him to the hotel. He apparently deceived the guardsmen, and had sympathizers among the staff." Ludierno put a hand to his forehead, replying to him. "Where is he now?" The advisor shook his head. "Don't know. He was last seen leaving Cinzia. I confirmed that the Antar delegate is all well."

The High Chancellor flew into a rage. "I want them dead! Do you hear me? I want ANYONE at that hotel who helped him in front of a firing squad!" He sighed, staccato and angry. "I want that Foreign Chancellor's head on a CHOPPING BLOCK! Do you understand, Namala?" The advisor nodded franticly. The High Chancellor continued yelling. "Get me Hessec! I want Hessec Sebreli here in twenty-four hours!"

"Yes, High Chancellor, of course. ...forgive me, don't you have a meeting with some delegates? From Kylarnatia, or some such?" Ludierno blinked a few times, thinking. "Ah, yes. It entirely slipped my mind." Flustered and angry, he swept out of the room, towards the main door. Indeed, it had somehow taken this long for them to finally get shuffled to the palace, but things were hectic. They had already been taken to the meeting room; apparently the High Chancellor was a bit overdue for their meeting.

The conference room, an all too familiar sight now. The worn marble and old palm wood of the table were far too close friends now. They hadn't been, of course, until Iturios had decided to take it upon himself to raise hell. The High Chancellor clicked a stack of papers against the table, straightening them out. He mumbled a low "Right," as he scanned over them, repeating the word. "Right." Putting them down, he looked to the delegation that had been brought to him. A curious group; with a sigh, he began to speak. "I do not know how much you know about the situation here, so I will take it upon myself to explain."

"Months ago, now, the Grand Duke of Farisola, Imbreo Sebreli II- may he rest in peace- died of complications with his lungs. This should not have been an issue. Rule should've passed to his heir, Hessec-" He motioned to the dour, slightly chubby little figure next to him- "But our Foreign Chancellor, Mr. Iturios Batioli, took issue with it. He claims to want Sicos Sebreli, the third in line for the throne- a boy of 16, mind you- to take over, but my sources would say otherwise. He's rallied the Farisolan National Front- a powerful nationalist faction that we've had to deal with for twenty years now- behind him as well as a variety of fringe groups who want to see the restoration of 'Farisolan glory'."

"It is more than likely that he simply wants to rule as Regent and tear down everything the Duchy has built up since we attained independence in 1753." Sliding a paper out of the way, he continued speaking, mulling over another file. Much of it was censored, lines blacked out with permanent marker. "I can assure you this is not a good plan. Hessec here may have made some mistakes, but haven't we all?" The other figure grumbled. He didn't seem to want to be present, as if he'd been forced to attend. "Hessec has served as the Honored Amir of Kabrog for years now, appointed by his father, the late Imbreo Sebreli."

Taking a short breath, the High Chancellor continued. "From what I understand you are more than likely the most powerful nation we've yet negotiated with. I would ask that you consider these and realize that if Batioli should indeed take power as Regent, or, as I would suspect, autocrat, he'll destabilize the entire region in the interests of his burgeoning little… as the rioters have termed in… second revolution."

Sliding the thick little pack of papers across the table, he remained quiet, waiting for a response. Inside was a heavily censored set of documents on what they'd gathered of Iturios' movements so far, as well as a variety of other relevant subjects. Nearly every major event that had occurred since the Duke's death was hidden within them.
---

The next morning in Farisola rolled around quietly in the ruins of the old citadel of Kabrog. Hessec Sebreli stroked a thin grey and black beard, looking out at the city from his perch on the hill. Centuries ago, the old 'castle hill' as it was referred to towered over Kabrog, then a testament to Wayufid hegemony over Southern Caxias. Farisola had thrown off that yoke, however.

Yokes. Now they stylize me as the Sultan al-Wayuf. Hessec grumbled and started down the hill to the Governor's Manse, his home, followed by a few Ducal Guardsmen. His heels clacked against the last few stones on the path before he hit the smooth dark wood of the front deck, opening a great door and dismissing the guardsmen. He much preferred this to the hectic nature of the Ducal Palace.

Even as a governor, Hessec cared little for politics. Not to say he didn't enjoy having the position. He may have only had it because of his blood, but that didn't matter. He had luxury; and even though he didn't like politics, he knew how to use it to get what he wanted. Pouring a glass of wine, he made his way into a living room and sat down on a large, red couch, settling down.

Of course, not a moment later, a servant weaved through a door and stood before him. "Honored Amir, the High Chancellor sends his regards. You're needed in Samagro."

Ah, damn.

---

In Cinzia, the orange light of a low sun shone over the adjacent peninsula onto her shining glass skyscrapers. It gave a disappointing effect on the off-white building that was currently host to Tiair. At least it was surprisingly distinct, being the worst looking building among the otherwise extravagant and shiny towers. Combined with the amount of times he had driven there, it was no issue for Umani to find it.

He pulled up to the parking garage, where a baggy-eyed attendant gazed at him through the window. He handed the attendant a government-stamped card; 'Umani Hajecco', his name, and an old inaccurate picture. It at least affirmed that he was allowed in, and the gate opened up. Gliding down into the garage, he parked the armored limousine-What a sad product of the times- and got out, a guardsman getting out of the back with him, though the guard didn’t follow when Umani went to the elevator.

He mashed a button and it opened; another button and he was headed up to the lobby. It was a nice elevator; he'd miss it when he either retired or lost his current job as a government driver. A few moments and it opened into the dazzlingly bright lobby, blinding him for a moment as he stepped out. The woman working the desk recognized him, as he recognized her; Barisi Misino, a friend of his. "Ah, Umani," she spoke. "Here to pick up the Antar?"

The driver nodded silently. Responding in kind, she rose a phone and dialled it quickly, calling Tiair's suite. "Mr. Delengris, your limousine is here. Your chauffeur is waiting for you." She clacked the phone back down, looking back to Umani. "How was the ride?"

He shrugged. "Highway from here to Samagro is really empty, it's odd. The unrest is preventing the ferries from running, so I had to drive quite a while. At least it puts food in my belly." She nodded idly. "Glad to work in Cinzia, personally. Seems the issues aren't as physically violent here, though I get my share of debates over succession."

"Who do you support, anyway, Barisi?" She shifted a little. "I'd like to see Sicos on the throne. Hessec is, forgive me, not a good man." Umani nodded slowly, a bit put off. He looked to the elevator, waiting on Tiair.

by **Antirol** » Fri Oct 25, 2013 9:44 am

The sun filtered merrily through the shaded windows of the corridor, casting small shadows on the wall as the hotel echoed with the slow reverie of morning. A few people blearily bustled about in the universal morning stupor, casting similar shadows as they passed, all save for one, who stood still in the silence and moved not. Those who went on their way gave the green-clad foreigner weird looks as they passed. Weird looks masking worried, tired faces. The Corporal would always put on his usual routine: lift an eyebrow and stare back, never breaking eye contact. It was a tactic that always worked; no one hung around for long under his piercing gaze, a tactic which Corporal Tethis Kenir had honed over countless nights of guard detail back in Altane.
From his position by the door, Kenir was able to hear a muffled female voice as the Foreign Minister received his wake up call. The corporal flicked his watch: 8:31. Another hard day's night done. Reaching down, he picked up the rifle he had propped up against the wall, and he allowed himself a final stretch and a yawn as he waited for Delengris to ready himself, which thankfully didn't take long.

When the door opened and Delengris made his exeunt the Corporal stood to attention, green uniform snapping in the still morning air. "Good morning, sir. I trust you slept well?"

He shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose. The whole experience has got me wound tight still, and I only suppose it will get worse if what I have heard about the Loyalists is true." He gave a sigh. "I have a feeling that this is going to be a long day. Oh, and before I forget. . ." Delengris rummaged for his wallet and produced a 100 Cien note, which he proffered to the corporal. "For your trouble. I cant imagine guard duty is the most scintillating of details. I appreciate it."

Kenir was taken slightly aback by the Minister's generosity, but he nonetheless smiled and gratefully accepted the tip. He flashed a grin and tipped his cap. "I'm glad someone does. Thank you, sir." Delengris smiled and nodded. "My pleasure, corporal. You should probably go and get some rest." The corporal saluted again. "Very good, sir."

The Foreign Minister turned and headed toward the elevator, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the corporal call from behind. "Hang on, sir, the Lieutenant asked me to give something to you". The soldier took a moment glanced up and down the corridor to make sure no one was looking, and when he was confident they were alone, he produced something from inside his greatcoat . "Lynn was adamant that you should take it with you just to be safe," He whispered as he proffered the object. "Fully loaded, real easy to use, just need to take the safety off and you're good to go. Only for dire situations, of course." Delengris flinched. It was a GA6 Nauga, a proper, sleek, army issue handgun, and Kenir was giving it to him, a politician who had never held a firearm in his life. "Just to be safe." the corporal repeated. Delengris frowned as he tucked the gun away in an inside pocket of his suit. The unfamiliar, alien weight made him feel uneasy. "Lynn is that concerned?" Delengris's question was loud in the quiet morning air. "The Lieutenant likes to take all possibilities into account." answered the soldier. He continued "Which is why he has also decided to go with you today, along with Sergeant Major Orrecie. He told me last night that they would be meeting with you when you are ready to go." With an awkward nod of acceptance, the two men turned and walked toward the elevator at the far end of the corridor. The accommodation for the guards was on the second floor, so both men went the same way. Inside the charmingly furnished elevator, Delengris expressed one of his doubts. "Are you sure it's legal, you know, to be giving a gun to a civilian?" The corporal looked at Delengris with a puzzled expression. "What gun, sir?"

Corporal Kenir departed on the second floor, but not before the doors slid open to reveal two other green coated soldiers who had obviously been waiting for Delengris. One was Lynn, who was easily identified by his trademark goatee, and he was accompanied by a tall, burly, bald officer who Delengris vaguely remembered during the flight, and who he figured to be the Sergeant Major that Kenir mentioned. The corporal gave a swift salute upon seeing his commanding officer, who promptly dismissed him and sent him for rest. He disappeared around the corner. The two men edged into the elevator beside Delengris; the bald officer hit the down button and the doors slid closed with a ping.

"I trust the corporal has. . . filled you in, sir?" Lynn said clasping is hands behind his back. "Indeed." replied the Foreign Minister, who was somewhat squashed against the wall by the hulking mass of the Sergeant Major. "I just hope that things. . . end well." Lynn gave a light chuckle, his eyes seemed to stare off into the distance. "Don't we all?" he muttered. "Don't we all?"

When they reached the ground floor, the doors opened into a gleaming bright lobby, making all three men blink as they stepped out to be greeted by a Government driver.

by **Antirol** » Sat Nov 23, 2013 9:44 am

*bump*

Hey, why not, right?

by **Farisola** » Thu Nov 28, 2013 10:06 am

23rd of Penbion, 3253

Ludierno had cooled off. The Antar had been received and hauled to Samagro with speed; he could only hope that Iturios hadn't planted any ideas in his head. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to meet until now. He had, as a result, a month to simply enjoy Samagro (under the Ducal Guard's watchful eye). In the meantime, the situation had grown yet more severe. Fifteen Ducal Guardsmen lay dead in Kabrog a week ago. The Farisolan National Front there had spurred the masses on to armed rebellion. He sighed and sipped at a cup of coffee, defeated. The former Foreign Chancellor had come out publicly and announced the support of the majority of the Governors, the National Front, and a few other fringe groups in addition to his half the council. Ludierno responded by revoking his position as Foreign Chancellor.

Probably not his best move. Now the Ducal Guard had split in two; many divisions outright refused to follow orders or joined the riots. The opposition was getting more organized by the day. Ludierno was, frankly, afraid- he had moved the majority of the loyalists to Samagro, close to him, but now he feared he'd been boxed in. All he could do was wait and see what Iturios did next and pray the army would stick at his side.

Opolias, his loyal, if not somewhat grave advisor opened a door and nodded a head in respect. "High a Chancellor- if you have the time? You should speak to the Antar. With respect, it's been weeks." Ludierno sighed and put a block of papers down, straightening them out before rising and heading for the door, his advisor in tow. he entered the same, long conference room they'd sat in so many times in past few months. It was just him. Opolias peeled off to go get the meeting set up. Ludierno had grown too paranoid to let anyone else in.

After some time, Delengris would've been retrieved from the luxurious Nasiras Candici hotel- even more a beacon of decadence than the one he'd stayed in at Cinzia- and taken to the Ducal Palace. He would've been ushered in to a grim-looking High Chancellor, physically showing heavy markings of high stress; he was backlit by an orange sun setting over the city, steaming through a grand window. "Splendid," he muttered, motioning to a single seat across from him. "Sit."

by **Antirol** » Thu Dec 05, 2013 1:57 pm

18th of Hamea, 2445 AE

Delengris was concerned. He and his escorts had been transferred to Samagro to convene with Ludierno, only to find that their meeting had been delayed by a month, supposedly due to civil issues. As such, he had a long amount of time to kill, and it was right under the nose of the Loyalists. Thus it had come to pass that the Foreign Minister found himself restlessly sipping an iced tea from the belvedere of a charming little café in the Merchant Quarter whilst one of his military bodyguards, Lynn, sat opposite him, poring over a city map he had scored from the hotel. Orrecie had remained at the hotel. To Tiair, it was quite a surreal experience being flung into the heat of Caxiasi life; he felt like a stranger in a strange land. Both men had changed into casual clothes in order to remain inconspicuous, although Tiair feared their Antar clothing would stick out like a sore thumb considering the style probably appeared a century old to Farisolan eyes. They had also been able to exchange some of their Antar currency for a healthy amount of Farisolan money, kindly traded by some of the hotel staff.

The noise of the city floated pleasantly by as he gazed over the expanse of the Farisolan capital to the sea which shimmered gaily in the distance, the sun playing merrily in the waves of this land, far from home. Delengris took another sip of his drink. It was a nostalgic scene, one that reminded him of his honeymoon in Nostravalle, an old, romantic Preillan city overlooking the Marnian Ocean.

He gazed down at the street below, noticing for the third time that morning the military vehicle that been tailing them parked in an adjacent street and driven by two watchful, cold eyed Ducal Guardsmen.
Delengris sighed, draining the rest of his tea. "Their here again." Looking up from the map he was marking, Lynn followed Tiair's line of sight until he spotted the vehicle. He scowled. "Damn those guys are persistent, I thought our driver had been able to lose them. Ah well, I guess they're just following orders, so long as we don't do anything stupid they should be harmless."
"I suppose," said Delengris. "But that still doesn't make me feel any more comfortable." He sighed again. "This whole situation is so dislocated from reality."
Lynn raised a bushy, quizzical eyebrow. "Really, how so? I think it was quite nice of them to give us some furlough, unintentional as it may be. We have the whole of the Farisolan capital at our fingertips, we should make the most of it."
The Foreign Minister scoffed and crossed his arms. "You think so? Last time I checked, we were on an important and fragile diplomatic mission, not on a whistle-stop tour. The sooner we get this over with the better. Besides, we are right in the midst of the Loyalists, if they figure we are on Iturios's side then it could spell trouble."
The 1st Lieutenant gave a light chuckle. "You worry too much, Tiair. Worrying about a situation that is beyond your control only leads to unnecessary stress, and trust me when I say that nothing that can ruin an operation like stress can." He splayed out the map of Samagro on the café table - several locations had been ringed with military precision. "I reckon it would do you well to unwind a little and simply enjoy yourself. I've marked several locations of interest that may be worthwhile to explore in the coming weeks. And if there is trouble . . .then I and the Sergeant Major can handle it." He grinned, patting his pocket for emphasis.
Delengris shook his head in exasperation. "Fine, I'll play along. You're paying though."

24th Hamea, 2445 AE

Tiair had to admit, it was an impressive sight. Standing tall above the plaza in which it stood there was a great bronze monstrosity, proud and weathered by the ages. Above the many locals that milled around in the crisp autumn morning, the monument, depicting the hard faces of numerous Farisolan Arquebusiers in a skirmish formation, was briefly illuminated by the flash from Lynn's camera. "Hmm, so this is the monument to the Hundred." He said as he approached the fenced off threshold, beyond which many flowers grew around the base of the statue. An old brass plaque was attached to the railings there. "I hear they were heroes of their time, kinda like Benthil's Company but more successful."
Whilst Lynn wandered around, determined to get some more snaps of the monument, Delengris inspected the plaque. Unfortunately, it was inscribed with Farisolan rune-script and he couldn't make anything of it. "Curious, they still use runes. . ." he thought to himself.

5th Surimea, 2445 AE

"So, where are you off to today?" The driver chatted amiably as he adjusted his rear-view mirror to get a better angle past the brawny mass of Sergeant Major Orrecie, who's position alongside Delengris almost squashed the poor Foreign Minister into the passenger door. "I think we'll try the Ulversci today, I'm hearing some good things about that place." Lynn replied, his map open on his lap.
"Ah, the Ulversci, very good." The driver gunned the engine and glided off down the wide streets into central Samagro.

The car wound its way into the tight streets of a part of Samagro they had not yet visited. Delengris noted the antiquity of the buildings as they passed, reckoning they were entering an elder section of the city. Before long, the Antir could spot a tall tower soar into view over the sun-bathed roofs of the city. "Well, It's impressive, I'll say that much, but It's got nothing on the Citadel in Altane."

"Actually, I think I may have misjudged the height. . ." Delengris and Orrecie weres backed up against the wall of the tower, as far away from the railings as possible. Despite the breathtaking view over the capital, it seems that the 150m drop didn't exactly do wonders for the Foreign Minister's stomach. "Aww, what's the matter, you big babies?" chided Lynn, brazenly leaning over the rails to get a better angle with his camera. "A little height never hurt anyone." The Sergeant Major scowled at him. "Try telling that to the hundreds of people who have died from long falls. Heights have never agreed with me, at least."
Lynn gave a smug grin. "That's because you're a city boy, Orrecie. Back home in Etgard, all us kids grew up climbing those big Ironbark trees on the east slopes; something like this is nothing to any Ettish man."
"Hmph. Big talker."

15th Surimea, 2445 AE

The mild Farisolan winter was drawing in, and it had become ever more clear in Tiair's mind (and no doubt those of his companions) that it was likely that the mission would not end in time for Rayellane. In his thoughts he lamented that he would be alone, for the first time in his life, for the New Year's day, and a great disquiet fell upon him as he thought that his wife and children would have to spend that blessed day without him, and his recent cheer was subdued. So it was that Tiair's free leave in Samagro came to an end, and although he had thoroughly enjoyed seeing what the Farisolan capital had to offer, it was now his to cast his mind back to the situation of the Crisis - for the arrival of an official summons from Ludierno heralded the return to reality.

That evening, Delengris was driven to the Ducal Palace alone, for it was clearly stated that it must be so, and Lynn and Orrecie were forbidden from holding audience with him, much to their chagrin. Thus it came to pass that the Foreign Minister arrived in a wide hall, with the last rays of sunlight filtering through its high window, like unto a light shining through dark water. With a word, Ludierno bade him be seated, and he was. The High Chancellor seemed like an altogether different man than he had been when he saw him last - for his countenance was grim and set, and he was possessed of a foreboding prescence that chilled the room. Nonetheless, Delengris spoke unwaveringly.
"Well met High Chancellor, it seems things have changed since we sat in Altane. Let us speak, I am sure you have questions."

by **Kylarnatia** » Mon Feb 03, 2014 5:42 pm

"Ah. I see."

The 'diplomat', if she could be referred to as one, of the Imperium Antiquum Kylarnatiae had been silent through most of her time in Farisola. She'd observed them all quietly, watching their every move with eyes like a hawk, though kept her actual gaze concealed with the hood of her cloak. It surprised her how far they'd allowed her to get in her present state, especially considering the high level of security the country was under at the time. It told her that they were really betting on the hope that she was the Imperium's diplomat, because they were in a lot of trouble it seemed. Luckily for them, their hope was going to live on.

She was like a ghost, dressed in a long white dress and hooded cloak with a golden chain. The only other colours present were the vibrantly warm fleshy pink of her skin, visible through her open-top chest area which revealed her cleavage, and the lower half of her face which wasn't hidden by the shadow overcast by her hood. The other colour was the deep red of her lips, which as they parted revealed the pearly whiteness of her teeth. She was a complete mystery, the only thing for certain being that she was a Kylarnatian, for standing at 6'6" in height. It wasn't guaranteed, but it was likely.

Taking the folder which had been pushed in front of her, the diplomat flicked through the pages. At some she skimmed over them with little thought, but there were few which she looked at for quite a moment. Still listening, she then placed the folder back down on the tabletop. When the gentleman across from her commented that the Imperium were the strongest nation they'd contacted to date, she could not help but reveal a small smile. Allowing him to finish, and studying her notes and those that she was given a bit further, she spoke with a confident yet equally delicate voice. It was like the sound of soft rain falling against the window; mesmerising to listen to.

"Well, it does seem to be a classic case of such. The Imperium would certainly be willing to aid you in any cause against this vile attempt at seizing power, but of course...we have to show some legitimacy towards this move. Our interaction has been minimal up to this point, so any immediate military response from my people on the issue would have the pushy members of the international community raising questions left, right and centre. What we need is some way for our paths to be more directly crossed, so to speak, so that you can be raised on the list..."

She paused for a moment, before continuing. "I will not lie, the Imperium has been surveying Caxias and Eagia for quite some time. We've deemed that the region - albeit small - would be a key area for our sphere to include. Along with the fact that I know my Caesar would be keen on ensuring the stability of any corner of the world, regardless of size or merit. So, what I'm about to propose may at first sound extreme, but with further negotiation it would allow for you to have what you want while also giving the Imperium cause to take action..."

Reaching underneath her cloak, she retrieved a small token. A badge of sorts. It was the Imperium Phoenix. Although small, it was lined with gold and reflected the light radiantly off it's face. It's dark colouring was as black as night and all-consuming. Despite it's size, looking into it for long enough felt as if you were being sucked in to an even larger object. She placed it gently on the desk, and slid it forward.

"High Chancellor, I would like to propose that the Grand Duchy consider becoming a member of the Imperium Antiquum. I'm prepared to answer any questions which you may have."

by **Farisola** » Wed Feb 05, 2014 12:55 pm

by **Antirol** » Tue Feb 11, 2014 1:31 pm

15th Surimea 2445 AE

"What I think, Ludierno," said the young Foreign Minister in his calm, steady voice. "Will undoubtedly have little weight in the end."

Delengris's brow had furrowed into a sharp V as he regarded the venomous comments that were ceaselessly hurled at him from across the room, reverberating slightly in the stilled air. He had guessed that the man had been intrinsically changed by the political division, but it had not done much to prepare him for the relentlessly angry onslaught that he had received. Tact obviously was not this man's strong-suit, but amidst the passionate outbursts Delengris had noted the arrogant overtone, the belittling remarks. He had gotten the same impression when he had met with Iturios - nothing was ever clear in this crisis.
"It's the same old spiel, no matter which choice I make it is the wrong decision to someone," he thought to himself irritatedly. "Either way I turn, I'm a sheep between two wolves."

"When I came to Farisola, I knew I would have to pick a side. A simple enough task. What makes my job harder however is when picking a side means wedging my country between a rock and a hard place. Whichever way I deal my hand, Loyalist or Revolutionary, I knew there would be repercussions to deal with, sacrifices to make and consequences to suffer. My choice to side with Iturios was not an easy one to make, so do not think for one minute that I am a lamb being let blindly; I've been a politician long enough to know how this game works."

Ludierno's contemptuous face, his condescending words; Delengris felt like a chided schoolboy being lectured by the Altahan*, it was insulting. What in the Lady's name did this upstart know about the position he was thrust into, the choice he had to make? Tiair felt the heat of indignation bloom in his chest as he needled the High Chancellor with his stare.

"You speak of order and power, stability and ruin, but I know of this already, for I have known for a while now that you both sides speak truthfully and also lie. In this matter there is no black or white, no easy decision, for whatever the outcome to this conflict is there will be heads that roll. Between the two of you there are enough honeyed words to bait a bear and enough venom to kill a Rhetoc bull**."

Delengris forced a grim smile.

"I do not doubt the sincerity of your cause, Ulanc, but you must understand my position. While I largely distrust both of you, better the devil you know than the devil you don't, eh?"

* _{"Altahan" roughly means "High Person" and is the term used to address superiors, especially teachers or bosses.}.

**_{Rhetoc are a species of very large, very powerful wild cow native to the plains of northern Eagia. They are prized for their use as a beast of burden, although their meat is considered an aquared taste.}

by **Farisola** » Tue Feb 25, 2014 9:34 am

The High Chancellor cocked his head slightly, nodding. "You're of an interesting character, Mr. Delengris." He continued nodding slowly. "All of you young men in politics- you all have such an interesting character about you. You, Batioli, Chancellor Difrec..." he trailed off, pushing up off the table. "It amazes me how out of hand this situation has gotten." His tone had calmed down at this point, but it remained hardly friendly. "He's used this... charisma... I've never seen out of him before. Pulled it right out of thin air, it seems."

"I got him onto the council, you know," he continued, still not addressing directly who he was talking about. He moved over to the window and stared at the beleageured city across the bay. "He was a nervous boy looking to make a name for himself. I took him under my wing. He rose through the Low Council quicker than anyone before him. He's the first Foreign Chancellor to rise to the position so quickly. He didn't get there with his personality, he did it with merit. I awarded that merit as I saw fit."

The High Chancellor turned to look at the Antar, still sitting at the table. "You remind me of him back then, in a way; not quite as awkward, though." He paused for a moment. "He betrayed me. That's what this. A betrayal. The apprentice rising against the master, a mindless and causeless power grab. A coup d'etat. A show of force. A nation for his kind."

"Perhaps I am wrong. Regardless, I'm not letting go of this country without a fight. And I'm certainly not going to see your nation- a nation I pushed to communicate with, a nation through which I fought with tooth and claw to get to, a nation I've managed to open up a whole continent through, hidden away from my people for centuries- give them support and legitimacy, nominal or physical."

"He calls me a paranoid old man. Do I not have cause to be? When his generation, his supporters- they've all risen up against me out of nowhere?" He gave another short, pensive pause. "I support Hessec Sebreli because I am sworn to my nation to do so. Good or bad, we'll make do. I have my doubts about what his rule may bring, but these- revolutionaries-" He seemed a bit pained in saying the word- "Only want to tear down two and a half hundred years of this glorious monarchy, this ongoing restoration of Farisola's golden years. Before the Republic; before the emirs from Wayuf."

"What does this other faction intend on doing?" He questioned rhetorically, continuing his monologue. "Continuing the rule of the Dukes? Putting Sicos Sebreli in the Palace? I am doubtful. My remaining council shares that sentiment. The primary organizers in Iturios force, now, the Farisolan National Front, have been opposed to the Grand Duchy since their formation. We're not even entirely sure what they want to achieve, other than that they want power."

"For now perhaps I can take solace in that they don't have a set and clear goal, other than deposing me- I mean, Hessec, preventing him from ascending to power. Soon I'll crown him regardless. They can't stop us, can they? It'll only give us more cause to crush their movement and restore the peace." He turned back to the window for a moment, fumbling around in his coat as he continued to speak.

He turned around pointing a snub-nosed revolver at the Antar delegate. "I'm afraid I can't let you return to Antirol with your support for this little rebellion. At the same time, I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise. I'm quite certain you've eaten up their empty rhetoric at this point. You won't be harmed. Neither will any of your guards, but neither you or any of your company are leaving now. Not until I've got Batioli's head on a pike."

by **Antirol** » Mon Mar 03, 2014 2:35 pm

15th Surimea 2445 AE

Delengris smiled coolly at the High Chancellor as he shook his head. It was a strange feeling, being held at gunpoint; it didn't feel anything like the Vids back home had made him believe. He felt felt drained of emotion, like a breath of wind had extinguished all anger, all frustration, all feeling of indignity, until there was nothing left but pity and contempt. It was very surreal, being faced with death.

For a fleeting instant he considered replying in kind. He had the Nauga concealed in an inner pocket, but there was little point in trying to act boldly. Delengris knew he had won already - the evidence was staring him in the face. All that was left to do was explain why.

His expression softened and he closed his eyes, remembering the path that had led him to this place, this time.

"You know, I didn't originally intend to enter politics. When I was young I had always wanted to be a soldier like my older brother, to travel to the far places and do brave deeds. My parents, however, had other plans for me. When I was 10, my brother was killed in action during the Meiuran. I was inconsolable. My parents wanted to keep me as far away from war as possible, so they packed me off to Altane, kicking and screaming, for a soft education in politics. Turon had been only 18 when they killed him, and my heart was filled with anger and grief for many long, bitter years."

"I hated them for it at the time. Back then was a time when I hated the world that killed my brother, my best friend, my only ally in the world. I had felt that my forced politics education was a chain, my life a lie told to keep me "safe". It was a miserable existence. I'd considered running away on more than one occasion. For the longest time I had given up on myself and the world, and my days passed in a vicious circle of hate and shame."

The Foreign Minister opened his eyes and locked them on those of Ludierno.

"It was a cycle that would have continued into oblivion if not for the words of one man. A man you met in Altane."

"Before he became Archminister, Loring Eckard had been Foreign Minister to Prilassa Drelith. He was wise, witty and well respected, and he had a way with people that was quite unlike anything before his time. At the time, I was falling behind in my studies, partly from disinterest and partly from disgust. When he chose me as his Benthir*, I was shocked. Why on earth would he choose a sad, miserable boy like me? Perhaps I'll never know the reason."

"Those years changed me, Ulanc. Eckard has a way of making you feel trusted, valued and understood - feelings I had rarely felt since my brother died. In those years I spent under him he changed me from a boy angry at the world to a young man who had the power to change it. He taught me that men with passion and conviction can change the world just as easily as soldiers and armies can, that a word can save a life, that there are missions to undertake in politics just as serious and important as those on the battlefield."

"Slowly but surely I emerged from out of my cloud of misery and became happy again, a man with a goal and a mission. Eckard was always there to help me on my way. A true friend and teacher to whom I owe everything I am today. Hell, he even introduced me to my wife. It was Eckard who taught me that the little we can do we must do, so that others will know that good men too can be strong, so when he was appointed Archminister and made me his Foreign Minister, I was the proudest man in the world."

From his subdued position down the barrel of Ludierno's revolver, Delengris gazed at him with a look of pity.

"In many ways you remind me of him: passionate,charismatic, knowledgeable and proud. The only difference is that Loring Eckard is a good man, an honourable man; one that would think twice about pulling a gun on a foreign representative if he couldn't get his way. In the end you are little more than a glorified child. Make no mistake, Ludierno, I'll come quietly if that's what you want. You and Batioli can fight until the ground is slick with blood for all I care, but that's your choice, and it's a conflict you have ultimately spawned."

"Just remember, good men too can be strong."

*"Benthir meaning "Watcher" is a position roughly equivalent to an apprentice.

by **Farisola** » Tue Mar 18, 2014 5:34 am

The pistol's barrel wavered for a moment; Ludierno's face trembled as anger welled up in him, a volatile slurry of indignance and arrogance. His trigger finger pushed down for a moment, but he quickly let off, pausing in thought. He has the gall to insult me, he thought. Why don't I just have him killed? They sat in tense silence for a few moments, but eventually, the pistol lowered back down to his hip, the High Chancellor judging even in spite of his volatility that shooting him would be a bad move. Regardless, it was still aimed squarely at the Foreign Minister across him.

After another intense spell of stillness in the room, he spoke. "I see, Mr. Delengris." He paused. "I see very clearly. It is a shame you must be so naive. Perhaps your- no, your nation's treachery will see a proper response when I've regained control of my errant people."

"Sergeant," he said, raising a voice. A Guardsman quickly entered the conference room, saluting with his hand across his chest. "Yes, High Chancellor?" "Get your men and detain the other Antar that are here." The Sergeant blinked. "Sir?" Ludierno simply kept talking. "I want this one," he said, pointing at Delengris, "Thrown into a cell." The Guardsman's eyes flicked between the two politicians before him. "….as you command, High Chancellor." The sergeant- a bit awkwardly- walked over to Tiair and grabbed him by the arm, firmly, but not violently.

---

Sergeant Brejti was having a rather odd day. He certainly hadn't expected to be taking any prisoners; it was just another foreign delegation, albeit somewhat later than the ones that had come and gone through a few months ago. He'd simply been doing his job, standing watch in the Palace, when suddenly he was being ordered to haul off a foreign delegate. He looked at the Antar cuffed in the back of the van, pausing for a moment to consider him before simply shaking his head.

The Guardsman was engrossed in his driving, jerking the car around the crowded little streets of Samagro. It would've been nauseating, but you get used to it after a lifetime of living in the city. Keeping a hand firmly planted on the handhold above the window, he was able to keep himself from being concussed, but Tiair may not have been so fortunate.

Soon, the Ducal Prison came into view. It was an eyesore among the other, old buildings of this district in the city, a concrete monster plastered over with ostentatious, baroque decorations. The car pulled up next to a gatehouse; the driver rolled down a window, mechanically presented a badge, and got waved through. The van pulled into a little garage before coming to a halt; Brejti sighed and clicked open the door, boots clacking against the pavement.

He slid open the back door and pulled their prisoner out. "If it means anything," the Sergeant said, "I'm going to see you get one of the nicer cells." Leading the Antar to a door, he continued. "But nobody gets out of here. Best just wait until the High Chancellor cools off and lets you go." He paused. "Assuming he does." Opening the door, they entered into a long stairwell.

---

It took nearly two hours to get him processed; Brejti once again had the 'honor' of throwing him into his cell. The Sergeant wasn't enjoying this. He had no love for the Council. In fact, he'd been very seriously considering going AWOL and making way for Kabrog, but hadn't acted on that plan.

Tiair's cell was fairly isolated from the rest of them; the block his was located in only held four cells in total, all reserved for more "high class" prisoners. The High Chancellor probably didn't want him put here, but for all the Sergeant cared, he could go blow it out of his ass. He walked down the hall, his pace regimented and careful, hammered into him over years of marching.

They arrived at his cell, sealed off by a depressing metal door, a small glass window providing a view inside of it. It wasn't horrible, but it was certainly austere. There was no decoration; a small bed sat within it, as did a plain wooden table, and a small bathroom. The Sergeant hesitated before he unlocked the door. In one swift movement, he opened the door and pushed the Antar in, quickly closing the door and locking it, ashamed.

The sound of footsteps quickly dissipated as Brejti went to report to his superiors. Tiair was left in silence.

by **Kylarnatia** » Wed Mar 19, 2014 11:42 am

Headquarters of the Farisolan National Front, Kabrog
The Grand Duchy of Farisola, Caxias and Eagia

The Kylarnatian representative had followed Difrec without much noise or fuss. She didn't even seem to have fully reacted to the rejection she was faced with: she was still cool, calm and collected. Having followed Difrec's directions, it wasn't long until she was whisked away to the city of Kabrog, to her knowledge the most north-eastern city in the entire Grand Duchy. Upon arrival, she surveyed her surroundings with all the time she had before Difrec shuffled her into a car and they were whisked away to another building. From the exterior, she couldn't tell where they had arrived, but it had quickly dawned on her that this was the headquarters of the opposition, the Farisolan National Front. The representative pulled a wicked grin under her hood.

The Imperium had always established itself as a supporter of nationalism on the world stage, even going as far as fascism. Indeed, it was a lot more suitable than supporting the dangerous 'reds' - socialist and pseudo-communist nations who the Imperium regarded as the scourge of the earth and as the 'shackles of mankind's desires' - and liberal democracies who had no strong centralised power. True liberty and equality, according to the Imperium, came from a strong benevolent leadership with all men and women working towards the centre as to provide them adequate protection and a means to life. Social freedoms were high and held dearly; political freedoms were moderate and held with widespread apathy. Therefore, the prospect of negotiations with the Farisolan National Front pleased the representative. Indeed, it was actually whom she had come to see, but she had decided to weigh up her options first.

Now they were her only option.

Following Difrec into the building, she took little notice of the armed men that had greeted them, as if she was familiar to the sight and company of them. Then, after a series of corridors and brief waiting, she was graced with being able to meet the man himself: Foreign Chancellor Iturios Batioli. Smiling more clearly this time - lifting her head for all to see it - she outstretched her hand and shook Batioli's sternly. Sitting down, she then listened to him for the brief moment that he spoke, nodding politely every so often as to show she was paying attention. Once he had finished, she tapped her fingers on the desk lightly, crossing her legs and sitting up as straight as she could. Taking a gentle breath, she then began her response.

"I am sure the Imperium is more than willing to negotiate with the Farisolan National Front about the conditions in which the country will be left once the war is over. I appreciate your consideration of how difficult it would be for us to just ship troops in without receiving condemnation from certain corners of the globe. However, I'm sure some 'black operations' would be organisable if it would be beneficial to your effort. Otherwise, we can supply you with all the materials, money, arms and intelligence that you need. Of course, we do have our own conditions for our support..."

Pausing for a brief moment, she reached underneath her cloak and retrieved the badge that she had passed onto the High Chancellor only two hours ago. Still gleaming as if new, she now passed it on to the Foreign Chancellor.

"The Imperium humbly requests that the Grand Duchy enters our fold, adopting the Caesar as it's head of state and allowing our governments to co-exist alongside each other. We believe heavily in the doctrine of 'dominion self-rule', so I can assure you that Farisolan will remain Farisolan. Yet, I will not deny that the region of Caxias and Eagia has been in the sights of the Imperium for some time, due to it's material worth as well as it's almost isolated atmosphere. What we also request is that, once this war is over and your membership is complete, you allow us to station troops in your lands while we prepare for an assault against the nations of Sublea, Hasca, Sedacchi, Ambez and Dibarev. They would be an excellent addition to the Imperium as well, but for different reasons than Farisola: you are key to representing us fairly amongst your brethren in the region."

Retreiving an electronic tablet from underneath her cloak, she showed the Foreign Chancellor the map which the Imperium had used to make it's decisions on who to target for subjugation, and for what reasons. Mostly resources and what was described as 'wide-open living space'. Allowing him to hold the tablet, the representative then suddenly pulled back the hood of her cloak to reveal her face. With another wicked smile, the representative had shown herself to be the Caesar of the Imperium herself, Silvier Catherina Hyuga IV. If there was anything that would make it easier to persuade the Foreign Chancellor to agree to her requests, it would be the risk of saying 'no' directly to her face.

"So, what do you say?"

[OOC: Not as good as I'd like, but I hope it works. :)]

by **Antirol** » Fri Mar 21, 2014 4:54 am

". . .I still remember that day long ago;
You looked away, but I saw you crying for me.
'Creosora' you said, my love;
When morning came you'd left an ivory flower,
My lone memory of you.

I walk alone, still hoping to find you;
The flower that blooms inside of my heart.
I walk alone, still hoping to find you;
By lonely seas, on shores drawn apart. . ."

Tiair sang softly to himself as he lay, arms folded behind his head, on the small, prison bed. It was all he could do to keep his mind occupied. Over the long hours he had recounted all of the songs he knew; the old ballads, music hall classics, marching anthems, even a couple of drinking songs, and now he was working his way through the romances. As he finished the final verse of 'The Ivory Flower', the Foreign Minister smiled wistfully. It was an ancient song that told of the tragic romance between a shipwrecked Antar mariner and a Sanginese princess who were, at length, forced to separate to escape the wrath of the princess's warlord father, and who pined for each other ever afterwards. It carried with it a sense of loneliness that Tiair could relate to: he felt very much like that mariner, carried far from the one he loves by the cruel circumstances of fate. The final note faded into silence.

With a weary sigh, he sat up and fished into his breast pocket for his pocket watch. He held it in his hand, watching as the pale light from the naked light-bulb glinted dully on the tarnished silver, worn from years of use. It had been a wedding present from his wife, custom made to order by the famed watch makers of Gato Valdo in Uros. It had cost a small fortune, but Auril had paid without hesitation. "Its not a waste when its love that's loosening the purse strings" she had said. He smiled as he ran his thumb over the raised design on the case: A yellow tulip* flanked by the letters T and A in a decorative script. The petals of the tulip had once gleamed with gold gilt, but this had flaked away in many places exposing the silver underneath. With a practised flick he opened the watch. On one side an elegant dial indicated that it was nearing 4pm Altane time - although this was fairly useless considering he was locked in a windowless cell in this far-flung place. Opposite the dial was, taped in place under the case, a small colour pictograph of his wife and his two daughters, so young, so happy, and so far away. Tiair felt a dull ache in his chest and his eyes blurred. He hastily flipped the watch shut and put it away before he lost his mind.

"Gah, get a hold of yourself man" he muttered to himself.

He went into the tiny bathroom and filled the basin, which was easier said than done considering that the taps had almost rusted stiff. He splashed his face with the cold water, shocking himself out of his misery, and dried himself with the thin towel. In the cracked mirror he caught his reflection, noting with distaste his unshaven face, slightly tousled hair and a small bruise on his temple that he had picked up during his chaotically jerky drive to the prison. He still, however, possessed his Antar dignity, and that was what mattered - he may be imprisoned, but he was far from being broken, and Ludierno was a fool if he thought otherwise. The Foreign Minister allowed himself a grin as he remembered the embittered look on the High Chancellors' face before he had been hauled away. That was a victory in itself, albeit a small one.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the relative silence, and there was a knock, a clank and a rasp as a gloved hand pushed a tray through a hatch in the steel door. On it was a simple meal, which he took gratefully to the table as the footsteps outside faded back into silence. As he ate, Tiair considered his current situation. His escorts would almost certainly be detained, and he just hoped that Lynn had the sense not to make a scene, or worse. Lynn would probably want to break him out if he could, but even he knew that this would be a remote possibility, and one that he knew Tiair would want to avoid if possible. There were also more long term issues to consider - if word got back to Altane that one of the Ministers was being imprisoned unduly then things might get ugly, and Tiair wasn't sure that even Loring would be able to contain such an uproar if such things became known. If Antirol was dragged into the conflict directly. . .he could only imagine the storm that would come. No, he would have to keep it all quiet. That is, of course, if he ever got out of here. . .

*_{The Yellow Tulip, as well as being the national symbol of Antirol and of the Lady, is also an Arrathosi symbol of true love}

Farisolan Succession Crisis (IC/MT/Closed)

Delengris & Friends in: A Soujourn in Samagro

"Good men too can be strong."

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