From the desk of HRH Sophie Vincent
Abbey Palace, Euskania,The Kingdom of Mizialand
Dated:7 February 2016
Reference: None
Subject: An open letter to all leaders of all countries of the world
Enclosed: -
Dear Sirs/Madams,
This letter comes from an old queen, the adjective been comprehensible either of the following two ways – I am 68 years old, so old that I fancy myself shouting at the puppies to get off my lawn and obviously I am, in a few months, no longer going to the absolute monarch of the Kingdom of Mizialand.
Recent events in the country have forced to make this decision and pass the thread of this country to an elected ruler. In the month of April, the Kingdom will hold its first election in more than one hundred years. I hope that my beloved subjects will cast their precious votes after giving due considerations to the consequences of their choices and elect whosoever is the best to rule this beloved lands of ours.
On 17th April, we shall have elected our first Prime Minister and then I will just be a constitutional queen, living a peaceful, retired life in my home in the mountains. I have decided to convert my palace in Heleventia into a hotel and a tourist spot. There are so many memories associated with that place that I cannot forget my past living there.
I hope that you will convey your best wishes to our nation which has begun this marvelous transition to democracy. Vive le Mize!
Yours truly,
Her Royal Highness Sophie Vincent.
Twilight in Heleventia
The morning was dull and grey not to mention hauntingly cold. It was not the nice and beautiful kind of cold with snow that makes you want to get out of bed and head straight outside, no, it was not that at all; instead it was the bad and dull cold that seems to suck life out of every living thing out there. It was the kind of cold where you want to wrap yourself up in your blanket in your warm and cozy bed or sip a mug of hot cocoa while sitting beside a nice, warm fireplace. However such pleasures were not in the fate of the Queen who had just woken up to a cold morning the description of which fits into the bad category. “My word is the law!”, “I am Sophie Vincent, the Queen of Mizialand! ” she had shouted many a times in the Parliament which was more or less of a rubber stamp body. It was not going to be anymore. Yesterday the Queen had finally made an announcement that had been anticipated by the people since the last year. Mizialand had begun its much awaited transition into democracy. The 104 year rule of the Vincent dynasty was going to end. Mizialand in the next four months would cease to be a Monarchy. With such heavy responsibilities the Queen marched into her bathroom.
The evening presented a scene in sharp contrast to the morning. As barking dogs seldom bite, in Mizialand threatening clouds seldom rain. It had been a sunny day, though not warm at all – the extremes today were in the negative. Queen Vincent was standing on her balcony staring at the clouds high up in the sky. The orange light from the setting sun intermingled with the numerous shapes and patterns that the clouds formed. Some would say that a particular cloud looked like a cat; to some it would seem to resemble a hat while some would try to find the face of their long lost love and many, especially those of dirty mind would like to point out resemblances to certain human anatomical structures. However the Queen was different, she was infact the Queen. “Not an inch of similarity between me and you ” was her standard response to the lobbying liberals who demanded “ independence from an aristocratic rule”. “All are equal, but some are more equal than others”, she would say.
Sophie now came into her room. How empty did it look devoid of her belongings! The wall bore a huge portrait of the Queen. She began to picture numerous tourists throttling into her room, clicking pictures of her portrait and making such common comments. She looked, for one last time perhaps, at the chandelier which she had herself commissioned. Oh, how betraying are tears, they never come when summoned. Sophie wanted to cry, only if she could bring her tears.
“Its all right dearie. ” said Monsieur Charette.
“ No one knows me like you do” affirmed Sophie.
“ Give them a finger and they will take your hand”
“I am sorry, Charette. I should have never started the civil rights thing. Pierre pressured me into it. ”
“ No one’s got it all, sweetie. ”
“ Mother would have never tolerated this. I am glad she died before seeing this day. Fourty eight years, M. Charette, fourty eight years I gave this country and for naught! ”
“ Believe me, Your Highness. This democracy thing isn’t going to work. ”
“ When’s the result day? ”
“ The 17th of April of this year”
“ On the Koninginnedag, it wont be like before, will it?
“I am afraid not, Your Highness. ”
“How did this happen? ”
“ This household cannot survive, Sophie. Our way of life is going to end. You and I we must adapt or perish. You haven’t read my editorial in Aquatine, have you? ” interjected Pierre Vincent, Sophie’s brother and soon to be the former President of Mizialand.
“I stopped reading it when it ceased to be our Pravda. ”
“ You can read it on my tablet, Your Majesty.” Said M. Charette.
“Tablet? Seriously? ” said Sophie and she took the device in her hands.
“We old fossils belong to an era gone by, Sophie. You have to accept it.”
The evening presented a scene in sharp contrast to the morning. As barking dogs seldom bite, in Mizialand threatening clouds seldom rain. It had been a sunny day, though not warm at all – the extremes today were in the negative. Queen Vincent was standing on her balcony staring at the clouds high up in the sky. The orange light from the setting sun intermingled with the numerous shapes and patterns that the clouds formed. Some would say that a particular cloud looked like a cat; to some it would seem to resemble a hat while some would try to find the face of their long lost love and many, especially those of dirty mind would like to point out resemblances to certain human anatomical structures. However the Queen was different, she was infact the Queen. “Not an inch of similarity between me and you ” was her standard response to the lobbying liberals who demanded “ independence from an aristocratic rule”. “All are equal, but some are more equal than others”, she would say.
Sophie now came into her room. How empty did it look devoid of her belongings! The wall bore a huge portrait of the Queen. She began to picture numerous tourists throttling into her room, clicking pictures of her portrait and making such common comments. She looked, for one last time perhaps, at the chandelier which she had herself commissioned. Oh, how betraying are tears, they never come when summoned. Sophie wanted to cry, only if she could bring her tears.
“Its all right dearie. ” said Monsieur Charette.
“ No one knows me like you do” affirmed Sophie.
“ Give them a finger and they will take your hand”
“I am sorry, Charette. I should have never started the civil rights thing. Pierre pressured me into it. ”
“ No one’s got it all, sweetie. ”
“ Mother would have never tolerated this. I am glad she died before seeing this day. Fourty eight years, M. Charette, fourty eight years I gave this country and for naught! ”
“ Believe me, Your Highness. This democracy thing isn’t going to work. ”
“ When’s the result day? ”
“ The 17th of April of this year”
“ On the Koninginnedag, it wont be like before, will it?
“I am afraid not, Your Highness. ”
“How did this happen? ”
“ This household cannot survive, Sophie. Our way of life is going to end. You and I we must adapt or perish. You haven’t read my editorial in Aquatine, have you? ” interjected Pierre Vincent, Sophie’s brother and soon to be the former President of Mizialand.
“I stopped reading it when it ceased to be our Pravda. ”
“ You can read it on my tablet, Your Majesty.” Said M. Charette.
“Tablet? Seriously? ” said Sophie and she took the device in her hands.
“We old fossils belong to an era gone by, Sophie. You have to accept it.”
EDITORIAL
Musings of an Aristocrat
-Pierre Vincent
A number of close friends have expressed their astonishment at the transition of Mizialand to a democracy. Our country, an absolute monarchy for the past 104 years, will, on the 15th of April will have its first election and transform into a constitutional monarchy two days after when on Koninginnedag the first Prime Minister will be elected. This should come as no surprise. I believe that this onset was not acute at all; in fact the Kingdom had it coming for a long time. Indeed, what should be a surprise is the fact that the monarchy survived for such a long time in the modern age. Mizia monarchy is different – it was overthrown in the end of the 19th century to be replaced by a republic which ended in a coup that restored the monarchy at a time when elsewhere monarchies were being overthrown to establish republics. The beginning of the end of this monarchy was established in the late 1940s when shift to an industrial economy from what was traditionally an agrarian economy led to dismal of over 250 dukedoms in the kingdom.
A Modern Economy
Today Mizialand is a free market, capitalist heaven far from the agrarian economy it was in the early 20th century. Services form the backbone of our economy, with major contributions from manufacturing and finance. The worsening Mizia Euro, hyperinflation and the Property Redistribution Laws of “socialist” Queen LaPierre in the 60s led to 135 dukes renouncing their titles. The remaining had to contend with dwindling sources of income that led to their inability to maintain the lacish standards of living most were accustomed to. Furthermore, a communist revolution had already begun in the northern mountains. Fearing that such forces will ultimately succeed, the Queen stripped all the Dukes and Earls of their titles and divided the country into 12 provinces, each headed by a Governor who had purely administrative roles. She effectively transformed Mizialand into a centrally governed state. In 1960s, economy liberalization had begun and by 1968 the closed, restricted Mizia economy became a free market, open economy. At the same time massive industrialization transformed Mizialand into a regional manufacturing hub. The end of Dukes and Earls in fact extinguished a class of society that had considered itself above the working class. Economic disparity which was widely seen in the early 20th century has somewhat perished in the modern era.
Demand for Civil and Political Rights
Her Majesty’s Government has been constantly under pressure by not only internal forces but also foreign powers to end the absolute rule of a monarch. If Queen Lapierre was known for economic reforms, Queen Vincent was the propagator of civil and political rights. Her reign saw the establishment of a Parliament. A certain portion of its members are elected. In fact, democratic institutions are established at local levels and they have been functioning for the past decade. Despite these relaxations, the demands for complete democracy have continued to grow. Protests are no longer illegal and active discussion is tolerated. The demand for complete democracy echoes through a sizeable populace and the Queen has ultimately decided to give her subjects what they want, hopefully in their benefit.
The Heirless Queen
After the death of the Vincent family in the fire at the Sussy castle, there is simply no one to take over the charge of the ruler. The Queen aged 68 is well past her primes and I am incapable of continuing our family. We do not want an adopted heir and therefore the Queen in her infinite wisdom has decided to end the 104 year rule of the Monarchy.
How the transition is going to work for our country remains to be seen. We do hope whatever happens is for the best.
“ I have never doubted you Pierre. You are my friend, my best friend, I have never said that to you but I am grateful to God to have a younger brother. You understand me, you make me complete, Pierre. Without you there’s no me. When I was a child, there were so many things I couldn’t share with Mother. You understood me in a way no one could. You kept all my secrets safe from my parents and from the world. If I were to live in a world without you, I would suicide immediately. Many a times I was asked who my two o’clock friend was. It was and it always will be you. Today, Pierre, while my identity, what defines me is being taken away from me, all we are left with is each other. There is no one else of the Vincent blood. ”
She then submitted herself in the arms of her brother and in sixty eight years of her life and sixty four years of his, this was perhaps the first time when she expressed how she truly felt. She was no longer going to be the Queen and this was her emancipation from the post that had consumed her for the past forty eight years. She held Pierre by his hand and they looked for the last time at the setting sun shedding its orange-red rays through the open French windows transforming the white polished marble into an orange floor. They saw for the first and the last time unobstructed by grand decorations through the open window the sun setting behind the Euskanian Mountains. As they walked away, M. Charette closed the doors of what ceased to be the room of Her Royal Highness, the Queen of Mizialand, Sophie Vincent.
She then submitted herself in the arms of her brother and in sixty eight years of her life and sixty four years of his, this was perhaps the first time when she expressed how she truly felt. She was no longer going to be the Queen and this was her emancipation from the post that had consumed her for the past forty eight years. She held Pierre by his hand and they looked for the last time at the setting sun shedding its orange-red rays through the open French windows transforming the white polished marble into an orange floor. They saw for the first and the last time unobstructed by grand decorations through the open window the sun setting behind the Euskanian Mountains. As they walked away, M. Charette closed the doors of what ceased to be the room of Her Royal Highness, the Queen of Mizialand, Sophie Vincent.
