Tears for Zamimbia (Western Atlantic Only)

[Excalbia]

Excalbian Embassy, La Providencia, Providencia y San Andres

The Excalbian Imperial Embassy in La Providencia was not a large post; in fact its Ambassador was doubly accredited to another nearby nation and maintained her residence there at a far larger Mission. The Embassy had only three Excalbian Foreign Service Officers - the Deputy Chief of Mission, Paul Thayer, who served as permanent Chargé d’Affaires; Holly Johansson, the Management Officer; and James Vikis, the Consul. In addition, there were also attachés from the Imperial Investigative Service, the Excalbian Development Assistance Agency and the Ministry of Defence. Despite the limited number of Excalbian employees, the Embassy employed a fairly large number of Providencians to staff its Political and Economic, Public Affairs, Management and Consular Sections. A contracted security company provided a guard force outside the walls of the Embassy compound and a detachment of five Imperial Marines provided security inside the walls.

The Embassy’s day began, as it usually did, with arrival of the first local employees at 7 am. After being passing through the gates manned by local guards, the employees were admitted into the Chancery by the Marine on duty. As the Consular Section began to receive the day’s mix of visa applicants and Excalbian seeking new passports or various forms of assistance, the Management Section's employees took care of the daily maintenance of the compound and readied the Mission’s HR, financial and general services offices for the day.

The Consul, as usual, arrived shortly after 7:00 am, followed by the Management officer at 7:30 am. They, like the local employees and the small number of attachés, commuted from their homes and parked in the secured lot behind the Chancery amidst the Marine Barracks, workshops, warehouse and other small buildings that filled out the rest of the compound. The DCM, however, had the advantage of living in the official residence on the compound, next door to the Chancery. Normally, Chargé Thayer could enjoy a leisurely breakfast and still be in his office by 7:40 am. Today, however, was different.

Thayer rose early and departed in his chauffeured lightly armoured sedan to the hotel where Revered Jacob Donnelly, the Emperor’s personal foreign policy advisor, had spent the night. Thayer met the Donnelly in the hotel’s restaurant and two men shared a breakfast of coffee, eggs, bacon, potatoes and croissants.

Their conversation was casual; both understood that Donnelly’s mission was considered secret and so could not be discussed in public. Instead they swapped stories, traded names of acquaintances and shared a laugh or two over the trials and challenges of leading a diplomatic mission.

As the breakfast came to an end, Thayer leaned forward. “I confirmed with the Foreign Ministry’s Chief of Protocol this morning that a ferry will be waiting for you at the dock to take you to Palacio Hermosa.”

Donnelly nodded and spoke between mouthfuls of eggs and bacon. “Thank you.” He looked up and set down his fork and knife. “I’ve never been to Providencia. How is this Palacio Hermosa?”

“Quite lovely,” Thayer said leaning back into his chair, “it quite lives up to the name.”

Donnelly nodded. “Do you deal much with the Snefaldian or Anahuacan ambassadors?”

Thayer raised an eyebrow. “Not much. I see them at official events. They tend to… avoid each other. They’re never at the same informal event, but when required - at national days and such - they attend but avoid each other. Both seem fairly competent, although the Anahuacan Ambassador seems a bit.. Eccentric.”

Donnelly smiled but said nothing. He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s time. We should be off.”

Thayer stood and bowed slightly. “Of course.”

Less than an hour later, Donnelly stood on the bow of a small ferry making its way from La Providencia to Isla Hermosa.

[Providencia y San Andres]

Palacio Hermosa, Isla Hermosa

As, first, the Snefaldians, then, the Anahuacans arrived with their secrecy and assumed identities, the Palacio’s staff, all government employees and not a local among them, nodded politely, registered the guests under whatever name they cared to give with polite indifference, then ushered them to their suites on opposite ends of the Palacio.

When Donnelly arrived, the only one to come alone and to use his real name - afterall, few outside Citadel Excalbia and its highest diplomatic circles knew who he was - he was shown to a suite close to the centre of the Palacio, next to its grand staircase and across from the elevators.

Once everyone was present and settled in, an employee was dispatched to each suite to deliver the message that all the guests were present and that the Palacio’s meeting rooms were available to them at their discretion. Staff would be available, if called, but otherwise would not intrude on their guests.

[Uncle Noel]

Palacio Hermosa

All are called but some are first, and so it was for the Anahuacans who made sure made it known to the staff that they needed to be in the room first. This was partly etiquette; although they were not the hosts of the meeting they were the instigators, and therefore it was only correct that they be seen to welcome, however formally, the other two parties.

It was also practicality though, and as a way of masking the extent of the People’s Commissar’s infirmity. They did not extensively prepare the room in advance save to place in the middle of the table a large screen; larger than a tablet device but just as thin, which for the time being simply showed “Jarndyce and Jarndyce” that twisted, bumped and turned as a screensaver. They had also made sure the Snefaldian representative sat in the north facing window since they seemed to recall mention of this in the briefing notes.

The table chosen was round, of course, so as to ensure that no one sat at the head. The name plates showed the various names chosen, with the exception of the Excalbian who had no need for an alias. Gainas and Schlesinger sat behind a simple note that said the name of the shipping company but which, at the press of a button, would change to Anahuac and a small representation of the flag. There only being only three countries present it was somewhat unnecessary but the People’s Commissariat had some so in stock so it felt a shame to waste them.

Tasteful spanish guitar music played over the tannoy as the other delegates entered; Gainas pretended to be suddenly interested in his paperwork so as to avoid the awkward moment where others might wonder if hands were to be shaken. Schlesinger, who had less of a dog in the fight, did smile at anyone willing to make eye contact with him.

When everyone had sat Gainas spoke. “Good morning,” he said in accented english (for his job required a certain knowledge of the ubiquitous linga franca), “And thank you for coming. We all have access to intelligence briefings so I won’t waste time introducing myself; you all know who I am because your respective governments confirmed the attendance list.” He motioned towards the bearded young man next to me. “I will add, by way of introduction, my colleague Comrade Schlesinger who will be acting as my assistant during these talks. Details of his security clearances was submitted to your administrations in advance.

I regret the necessity of the staff here having to confiscate most electronic devices. I am sure you will appreciate that the discussions here are highly confidential in nature and all necessary steps have to be taken to ensure that recordings are not made, whether intentionally or not. I realise that there is a distinct deficit of trust and I would thank the government of La Providencia, and the staff of the Palacio Hermosa, for facilitating today’s talks.”

He leaned back. “I am sure there has been much speculation as to the reason behind our seeking to arrange the meeting today. By its very nature these initial, speculative discussions can only be limited in nature and must be focused on the subject of Zamimbia. I have no authority or remit to discuss such contentious subjects as the disputed border region and the so-called “jade necklace”. With regards to Zamimbia, I am sure it has not escaped the notice of any of your governments that present situation cannot hold indefinitely. The present peace talks, at which other representatives of our governments are already assembling in New Excalbia, cannot fundamentally change the situation on the ground which is that the current Zamimbian administration, or future administrations, cannot maintain the republic’s territorial sovereignty. We have before us, therefore, two options. We can either, in New Excalbia, hope to come to an agreement that postpones the coming crisis and affords a temporary solution. Or, in this room, we can accept the facts as they are and attempt to work towards a solution that may not fully accord with commendable notions of self-determination and territorial integrity but at least provide for a lasting peace.”

He removed his reading glasses. At the same time Schlesinger leaned forward and, pressing a button, turned the screen to a map of the country in question. “I will be blunt, gentlemen. In my initial letters to your Heads of State I revealed my unfortunate habit of overblown historical comparison. Let me provide you with another one. Here,” he motioned towards the map of Zamimbia, “Is Poland. We are Austria, Prussia and Russia and we must decide what to do with her. I will allow you to discern for yourself which country is most applicable for you.

I am not a fool; I realise that each party here has a chance to test the strength of their arm and to attempt to claim the whole prize for themselves. My one question is simple, is the war for Zamimbia worth it, now or in the future? If you think that it is then you have my apologies, for I have dragged you out here on a fool’s errand. I wish you a safe trip back to your countries.

I hope, though, that this will not be necessary. I hope, at the very least, we may find some agreement on the least worst option.” He gave another nod to Schlesinger who pressed the screen again. This time the map of Zamimbia cycled showing various overlays; topography, major ethnic groups, infrastructure, resources distribution.

“One of the actors in the current crisis,” he neglected to mention which, “Said that the problems of Zamimbia were drawn up in the drawing room of their colonial masters, or words to that effect. This is not a drawing room but it is close enough, and maybe it needs a room such as this to rectify the mistakes that happened in that earlier drawing room.”

He reinstated his reading glasses. “There. Those are my opening remarks. Perhaps I might ask either of you to state, as boldly as you wish, your aims. Not those aims that you might tell the government of Zamimbia, or your allies, or your population, but actual concrete goals be it a port in Lawata Bay or the protection of the Jariahans. So you do not think that I am asking you to reveal too much without saying anything myself, let me start by saying…….I am concerned about the extent to which our policies have aligned themselves behind Buta interests. That is partly how the cards have been dealt, and partly the product of previously ideological-favourable governments that have been drawn mostly from the Buta, but I have no desire to see rivalries between ourselves to be played out between rival ethnic groups because it risks playing with fire. I accept that the Nalu, due to their location, will inevitably be drawn into the orbit of the States-Federation but that does not mean that it should necessarily follow that opposition to that should be an exclusively Buta concern. I am not opposed, if necessary, to the create of an independent Butaland if deemed necessary and for Anahuacan interests to be primarily a coastal concern, or focused more upon the Hansa who, until now, have only played a peripheral part in proceedings.”

[Snefaldia]

Minister Ortóvenë and Ambassador Tarku had maintained staid expressions from the beginning of the meeting, and in the Minister's case he seemed to be almost uncomfortable to even be in the room with the Anahuacans. A few whispered words in his ear from the older stateswoman seemed to cause him to relax a little, and he uncrossed his arms and started to work his jaw at the mention of the Partition of Poland. He waited a while before starting to speak.

"Zamimbia is a problem that exists adjacent to, and exerting a force upon, the respective foreign policy goals of our respective states. Our governments have all, for the past months and years, been working assiduously to try to cultivate our own interests and supporters in the Zamimbian government, a government that has seen a series of either unstable or ineffectual leaders. Arguably, the problem is the different ethnic groups, their respective short-sightedness and self-interest, as well as the inability of the Provisional Government to truly unite the country. However, partition would be disastrous. It would anger any patriotic Zamimbian, engender armed resistance, and embolden separatist groups in our own states, undermining the legitimacy of national governments and governing ideologies"

As he emphasized "own states" he gazed pointedly at Gainas.

"But as we have been invited to state Snefaldian goals, let us be about it." he continued, speaking carefully to avoid addressing the Commissar or any of the Anahuacans directly. "We desire a strong central Zamimbian state with a government friendly to foreign investment, but presenting no serious security concerns. Zamimbia's border with Snefaldia is longer than its borders with any other state; this is an area of concern for us. We are also eager to see opportunities for Snefaldian naval anchorages, or at least rights to use port facilities, for both our civilian maritime fleet and our naval forces."

Tarku broke in. "I would suggest that the analogy of Poland is incorrect here. Turkey is more apt, a state that is relatively free for all parties to operate in, without serious security concerns and without aligning itself to either party. To carry that analogy further, the creation of an independent Kurdistan would be unacceptable."

Ortóvenë grimaced briefly, mulling over his words. "I am sure, Commissar Gainas, that you have heard an old Snefaldian phrase- "business makes progress, fortune passes everywhere." Snefaldia wishes progress. There is some business we are willing to accept... to make fortune a reality."

Addressing Gainas directly for the first time, he left the implication unspoken. Snefaldia would be willing, in some unseen way, to deal with Anahuac in Zamimbia if it meant the preservation and advancement of the interests of both states.

[Excalbia]

(OOC: This is a joint post with The Resurgent Dream, Uncle Noel, Snefaldia, Knootoss, Pantocratoria, Laneria, Kasakia, Gantara, The Ernestine Empire, Ajuba and Zamimbia.)

International Conference Centre, New Excalbia

Although surrounded by the Union of Ajuba, the Imperial Territory of Excalbia was very much a part of Holy Empire - from the city-wide free WiFi to nearly always on-time electric streetcars to the baseball stadium - except for the tropical heat and the prevalence of Epheronian features among the populace. Like most of the territory’s governmental and tourist facilities, the International Conference Centre - a publicly-owned facility - was state-of-the-art.

The six-storey building featured several large meeting halls used for conventions and the like. Today, however, they sat empty. Instead, a large conference room on the first floor had been prepared for the International Conference on Zamimbia. A large table sat in the middle of the room with placards for each of the nations in attendance and a seat for the head of each delegation. Three rows of chairs surrounded the table to accommodate the rest of the staff. Windowed galleries on the second level provided space for translators offering simultaneous translation into the various languages of the attendees. Beyond the translation booths, smaller meeting rooms had been provided for each delegation.

Ricards Abiwole, the new Foreign Minister of Zamimbia, sat at the middle of oval furthest from the main entrance. Lady Ashley Gordon-Robb, the Excalbian Imperial Chancellor, sat at one end of the oval and Sir Dawuda Okpanache, the Abjuban Chancellor, sat at the other. Once the other delegations were seated, Lady Ashley leaned forward and turned on her microphone.

“I would like to begin by welcoming all of you to New Excalbia and thanking you for participating in this conference. It is our hope that - together - we can come to a resolution of the underlying problems that plague the southern Epheronian region in general and Zamimbia in particular. Such a resolution must respect the legitimate interests of all parts and, most of all, provide for the peace, stability and prosperity of the Zamimbian people.”

The Caldan Union was represented by Prime Minister Lola Foster who quietly took her seat even as several of her aides and advisors took their places in the chairs behind her. Others had already set up in the conference room provided behind the translators. That room would be hectic, full of fevered analysis and passionate discussion, but, in the conference room itself, it was unlikely to be reflected by anything more dramatic than an aide quietly whispering in the Prime Minister’s ear. In addition to Foster herself, African/Epheronian features were overrepresented among the Caldan aides. This was no so much the result of any conscious decision as the predictable effect of individual career choices. While great powers such as Pantocratoria, Excalbia, Knootoss, and Excalbia attracted specialists from every conceivable background, Epheron tended to interest those with some ancestral or personal link. Not that all the aides and advisors were Epheron experts. In the Caldan view, this conference was as much about Anahuac and Snefaldia as Zamimbia. Nonetheless, Foster agreed, “Of course. Peace and stability in Zamimbia is our highest priority.”

“Of course,” nodded Sir Isaac Comnenus, the Imperial Chancellor of Pantocratoria. “The security and prosperity of the Zambibian people are foremost on our minds.”

A Pantocratorian aide frowned and leaned forward to whisper something to the Imperial Chancellor, who looked instantly irritated, decided nobody had heard him mispronounce Zamimbian anyway, and dismissed the aide with a wave.

The Snefaldian Lord Chancellor, Márkës Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè, listened to the translation through an earpiece. His brother, the Minister of State, was also in the delegation, but sat further back amongst the rest of the Snefaldian group with an impenetrable look on his face. Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè glanced around, trying to get a sense of the other conference attendees. A tap on the shoulder from his ADC, a suitably credentialed Ren Pinikumurri, brought him back to his brief remarks.

“The government and people of Snefaldia are pleased to join the international community in this important endeavor, securing the well-being of the people of Zamimbia, and the stability of her government.” he said in Snefaldian, waiting for the translation. He spoke English well enough in private, but he’d always been self-conscious about his accent, and had chosen official interpreters for the conference.

President George van Cortlandt adjusted his glasses as he listened to the other leaders speak. The son and brother of a president, he carried himself with an air of unaffected assurance some found smug and, despite the importance of the great powers in the room, he looked slightly bored as leader after leader agreed with the basic statement made by Lady Ashley Gordon-Robb. It wasn’t the sort of thing one could disagree with publicly and there were, so far, no surprises, although he barely suppressed a smile when the Pantocratorian Imperial Chancellor mispronounced Zamimbia. When it was his turn, he dutifully played his part. “The Republic of Laneria is proud to join with the other nations gathered here today to support a stable and prosperous future for Zamimbia.”

Prime Minister Lukashka Parubiy listened carefully as each leader spoke. From his expression, he was fascinated with every straightforward statement of agreement and, indeed, he was. He was listening for nuance, for emphasis, for slight differences in wording. He was studying the expressions of the men and women as they spoke. “The Hetmanate fully supports efforts to secure the stability of Zamimbia,” he said simply after President van Cortlandt had spoken.

Prime Minister Ronald Kennedy of Finara settled back in his chair and linked his fingers, offering a pleasant, relaxed smile as he listened to his colleagues. “I can only add my voice to what’s already been said,” he stated. “Finara is dedicated to peace and stability in Zamimbia and all of southern Epheron.”

The General Secretary still looked slightly startled by his presence in this place with its trams and the wireless internet access. He turned, for the fiftieth time, to Tlazohtzin Acahualli (Acting Deputy People’s Commissar for Foreign Affairs) and whispered accusingly. “I thought you were supposed to be coming here on your own.”

Acahualli could not help but look disappointed that what was to be star performance had, once again, turned into an understudy. “I was,” she sighed, “But then the attendees went above my pay-grade.” Hoogaboom frowned; the General Secretary liked capitalist expressions even less than he liked interruptions to his itinerary.

He glanced at the other leaders as they spoke, with the exception of the Snefaldian Lord Chancellor who he would not deign to look upon, instead rummaging through his papers. It was time that he said something.

“The peace-loving peoples of the Socialist People’s Fiefdom,” he began in his own language, his English continuing to be of insufficient quality to engage in this public arena of high politics, “Decry the recent aggressive actions against the proud workers and peasants of Narvasar.” He adjusted his glasses and realised, with fleeting panic, that he was reading the wrong statement. “Don’t translate that!” he said to Popochcaxitl the translater, smacking him in the arm for good measure. Popochcaxitl, who had got no further that the decrying, came to an abrupt stop.

Acahualli passed him the correct piece of paper and, with a suitable cough, the General Secretary began again. “The peace-loving peoples of the Socialist People’s Fiefdom lament the continued crisis that affects the workers and peasants of Zambibia and are pleased to add to these efforts to find a more concrete solution to the current instability and the causes of that instability.”

He leaned back from the microphone. “Of course,” he said to Acahualli, “This is all a symptom of class war you know.”

Emily Cochran-King, Prime Minister of the newly independent Commonwealth of Gantara, listened quietly as the other leaders spoke. “I can only echo what my colleagues have said,” she began, the first to acknowledge that they were all saying the same thing. “We would like to secure peace and stability in Zamimbia.” She was aware of the irony of a newly independent nation supporting territorial integrity in Zamimbia but Gantara was a land geographically distant from historic Caldas with a developed economy of scale and responsible government. She didn’t think that was comparable to Zamimbian tribal groups.

The Knootian and South Epheronian delegations were seated side by side, each colourful in their way. The Knootian Prime Minister, Staalman, looked martial in a suit with a military cut and a display of medals. The shaven-headed advisors with their dreary field grey parade uniforms provided a military backdrop, but little else.

He was upstaged, if only by a little, by the representative of the Epheronistani Confederal Council, President Chief Qaphelani Sanele. Having been carried in on a litter by six of his favoured concubines, he now sat resplendent on a chair that had a panther skin draped over it, wearing all the markings of Epheronian Kingship, which included a colourful feathered hat, a huge chain necklace and a traditional tunic that was decked with golden elements. Resplendent though he was, he remained silent while the white man next to him spoke in English with a strong accent:

“South Epheron hopes to see this conference advance the cause of the peoples of Epheron, whether they are descendants of Knootian farmers, or one of the recognised black and coloured minorities. Our principle is that ethnic identity and loyalty should be reflected in national sovereignty. Only if all the peoples of Epheron have a national home can we truly have peace and mutually recognised coexistence. We hope the proposals of this conference can be made on that basis.”

Staalman thundered next, grasping his microphone and holding on to it as if he were trying to strangle something: “I am here to see to it that Knootoss’ voice is heard and listened to. The problems in Zamimbia have been allowed to fester for too long and are now a problem for the entire region. The spread of communism, the raping and pillaging of Knootian farmers by shrieking, machete-wielding thugs, taking tax money from productive farming communities to hand out to corrupt politicians. It must stop.”

He realised that his words had been harsh, but there was a sudden grin as he continued: “Having spoken with the South Epheronian delegation, I believe we can end both apartheid and ethnic strife in one fell swoop if we dare to look beyond the borders that were imposed on the people here by long dead colonials, including some from my own country. We need 21st century borders for the 21st century.”

[Excalbia]

Palacio Hermosa, Isla Hermosa, Providencia y San Andres

Rev. Donnelly sat back and crossed his arms as he listened to the Anahuacan and Snefaldian Foreign Ministers make their introductory remarks. One both had finished, he leaned forward. “If I may,” he began, placing his hands carefully on the table, “I would like to begin by commending both of Your Excellencies,” he nodded first to Gainas and then to vèl Ortóvenë, “for having the courage to hold this meeting. It is His Imperial Majesty’s greatest desire that this conference succeed both in securing peace in Zamimbia and laying the groundwork for further steps to resolve the long-standing differences between Anahuac and Snefaldia.”

Donnelly paused for a moment, drawing in a breath, then continued. “As for Zamimbia: to speak frankly, the Holy Empire is prepared to accept - with the Zamimbian government’s concurrence, which we believe we can obtain - a federal solution, one that would grant significant autonomy to the various groups comprising the Republic of Zamimbia and permit certain… concessions to various interested parties. However, at a minimum we need Zamimbia to maintain as much as possible its de jure territorial integrity.”

[Uncle Noel]

As he emphasized "own states" he gazed pointedly at Gainas.

Schlesinger bristled. "Speak for yourselves," he replied testily, "If.."

He got no further for Gainas patted his arm and spoke a few short words in their own language. He looked Ortóvenë directly and gave a half-embarrassed smile. "Perhaps the immensity of this first meeting in so many decades has caused a little over-excitement."

He smile disappeared as swiftly as it had emerged. He tapped he pen upon the tabletop in thought. "I had hoped this meeting might produce a more permanent solution to the Zamimbia problem but," he gave a small shrug, "I can certainly see the many disadvantages of a formal partition, especially now that tribal groups are not so clearly defined; if they ever were. I worry, Reverend Donnelly," he nodded towards the other man, "How stable a federal solution may be with the prevailing circumstances on the ground. Laws are..." he trailed off briefly, tapping the pen again as he found the words and then translated them into English. "Perhaps," he said with a smile, "We are all used to the commands of our governments to be carried out, even if," again he nodded towards the Excalbian, "Some administrations may have a delay built into the system. But there is a culture of command that Zamimbia lacks. Laws are only worthwhile in their capacity to be enforced and it would be our concern that a federal structure simply hollows out the centre, limiting effective governance and exacerbating the problems."

Gainas leaned back. "Perhaps, for this stage of the talks, we might focus on those things which our governments can do which do not necessarily require the consent or acquiescence of the Zamimbian government. I accept that my analogy of Poland was..........too much shall we say. Perhaps we are better to think of a Cyprus. I don't think that any of us would want to take unilateral action in Zamimbia but I do not think it too much to ask that green lines be indicated so that if military action was necessary then each of us would know what the limits for that action could be. If, for example, the State-Federation deems it necessary that certain actions should be necessary in future to secure the border then it would be helpful if we," he pointedly waved a hand towards Donnelly, "Could know how far that action could be expected so that the movement of arms and personnel does not immediately result in a crisis. Call this a....theatre of operations. Likewise if a future Excalbian administration decides that it is necessary to protect peoples currently residing on the coast then the deployment of such personnel does not cause an unnecessary escalation.

My other proposal is simpler still; that such links be established, covertly of course, to try and mitigate future crises by providing a forum where such issues can be addressed. It can, of course, be routed through the Holy Empire as both an interested party to the Zamimbian question but also a third-party to other issues."

As he emphasized "other issues" he gazed pointedly at Ortóvenë.

[Excalbia]

OOC: Joint post with Uncle Noel and Snefaldia.

Palacio Hermosa, Isla Hermosa, Providencia y San Andres

Putting a hand over her mouth, Tarku leaned in to whisper into the Foreign Minister’s ear, and after a moment the man returned his attention to the discussion, and looked to Donnelly. “Snefaldia has considered a federal solution but there is significant concern, which the Anahuacan party has voiced to some extent, that it will ultimately exacerbate the idea that each of the ethnic groups comprise their own semi-independent nation. We are also concerned that any reliance on the Zamimbian government itself will ultimately be whistling past the graveyard. How many governments has the country had in the past decade? How many generals are the Great Powers willing to tolerate taking power in backroom deals? And, does Excalbia have the appetite for future intervention if this next project fails?”

“There is also significant concern about the federal project from the perspective of allowing… undue foreign influence, let us say, to take hold in the country.” he said, turning to Gainas.

Donnelly nodded. “We understand your skepticism; however, we see little chance to keep the nation together otherwise. That said, we are open to other suggestions.” The reverend leaned back and looked at the Snefaldian and Anahuacan delegations.

“Military dictatorship.” Ortóvenë said matter-of-factly. “We support a strong, centralized military state that subsumes all regional and tribal governments. With outside, international support for their rule. Barriers to trade are dropped, ethnic tensions are crushed, and… political fulminations are tamped down. Any political fulminations.” he said pointedly, glancing at the opposing party.

“Let us not be coy, sir,” said Gainas leaning forward in his chair, “What you term political fulminations, or undue foreign influence, I would term the workers and peasants of Zamimbia yearning to be free and to throw off their chains. We are here sir,” he tapped the table with his finger, “To talk action, not semantics. As for your proposal, quite frankly we would support any action that would dissolve the current military of the republic. It serves no purpose; time and again it has shown itself unable to defend the territorial integrity of Zamimbia. What purpose does it serve, other than to consume too great a proportion of the budget and to serve as a hotbed of the sort of fumilations that you would so pointedly direct as us. Your Excellency forgets that Zamimbia is not Snefaldia, upon whom the populous may rest assured of the impeccable virtues of their General Staff, but a collection of khaki-clad robbers and thieves. You forget, sir, Mabuza whose kleptomania is somewhat more emblematic of the statocratic government you propose.”

He folded his arms. “His Excellency earlier said that, what was it? Fortune passes everywhere? If this is the serious response of the States-Federation then I would say fine, we will support the Excalbian proposal for a federal solution and we all take our share. It would be more a Lebanon than a Turkey but it should keep the peace.”

Donnelly steepled his fingers and contemplated his response. “I must agree with Minister Gainas on the… unacceptability of a military government in Zamimbia.” He paused. “That said, I believe both Minister Gainas and Minister Ortóvenë have made legitimate points about the weaknesses of a Federal system in the Zamimbian case. So, allow me to revise the proposal. Rather than a federation system with a weak center, along the lines of the C.S.S., perhaps a system with a strong center, but with some powers delegated to the regions. Education, in particular, has been a point of contention, so perhaps it and some police powers and local administration could be delegated, while most power remains with the national government.” He drew in a breath. “And to build on the example of Lebanon, perhaps with an added understanding that certain offices in the national government would fairly divided among the various ethnic groups to ensure that everyone has a stake in the national government and its success. We can also consider what concrete interests the various parties need to address to achieve a stable resolution of the situation in Zamimbia.

“As for our appetite for intervention, we are preparing an international peacekeeping force to enter Zamimbia to help the Zamimbian government implement whatever final agreement is reached. This force will help stabilize the country during the reform process, including a reformation and reorganisation of the military..”

The Excalbian looked down at some notes he had scribbled earlier. “And to return to Minister Gainas comment about establishing a forum for Anahuac and Snefaldia to address matters of common interest in a discreet manner, we would be willing to host such a forum and to serve as a conduit for your communications.”

The Foreign Minister and his second conferred with each other briefly. Ortóvenë nodded. “That is acceptable.”

The People’s Commissar tapped his pen on the polished surface of the table. Schlesinger leaned across and whispered to him. “I think,” began Gainas, though he paused to collect his thoughts, “I think that we all want the same thing and the question is whereabouts we are in the process. I think, as Minister Ortóvenë has put it, we want a strong and stable state where there is a….competition between rival interests but not the risk that such a competition does not lead to civil insurrection. The Turkey Model if you will. But we also all recognise that Zamimbia is not currently strong enough to cope with such a competition and, with respect to earlier comments, we cannot see any present agency in the country that can provide the necessary strength. With respect, your reverence, I can see a validity of a strong centre with some powers devolved but that was also what was envisaged for the current provisional government; the failure of which is why we sit here today. I am therefore tempted to, what is the expression in English, ‘cut the losses’? And to have a federal arrangement within a unitary system, so as to not have a written constitution but a series of laws from the centre detailing the powers to be devolved out. That way, should the situation improve, then it would not be too difficult to go to a Turkey Model if the central institutions are sufficiently strengthened.”

He straightened his tie. “With respect, though, none of this is anything more than could be said in New Excalbia. We are here really to discuss the price of acceptance and what we are willing to accept to make peace. In that regard I would return to my earlier comments about green lines and spheres of influence.”

He turned to Donnelly. “With respect, your reverence, you have been somewhat coy about the Excalbian position in all this. You want to maintain the territorial integrity of Zamimbia, which is commendable, but is that it? Does the Holy Empire feel no obligation to the Jariahans? Everything we discuss here,” he waved around the room, “May be null and void tomorrow if Duna has a heart attack and the republic comes to voluntarily partition itself. I mean, to be blunt, that is why we’re here isn’t it? Because none of can say with any certainty that Zamimbia will still exist this time next year and we want to avoid a shooting war as we pick up the pieces? You are not a politician, sir, so perhaps you can speak more freely about the worst-case rather than the best-case scenarios?”

Rev. Donnelly sat back in his seat. “To cut to the chase, as they say, in a worst-case scenario, our objectives are to prevent the annexation of Zamimbian territory by any party - we would, frankly, prefer to see the country divide into separate states than to see it carved up by other states. Such annexations could… unsettle the balance of power in the region.

“We would also, as you allude to, feel an obligation to the descendants of the Jariahan and Excalbian immigrants who settled in the coastal areas. We would be willing to deploy our military to preserve human life.”

He leaned forward and looked from the Anahuacan minister to his Snefaldian counterpart. “So, then, let me put it to the two of you: what is it that you want, if we end up with worst-case scenario? And what do you want in a best-case scenario? I believe that I have heard some of what you both want - a government strong enough to prevent further sectional instability or foreign manipulation - but I want to be sure that we are all clear on our non-negotiables. For us, as I said, the non-negotiables are: no annexations of Zamimbian territory; and safety, particularly for the peoples of the coastal areas.”

Gainas gave a small, almost gallic shrug. “Our goals are not so different, in a manner of speaking. We agree that formal annexation by another party would not,” he smirked, “Serve as a good example to the others, but then I cannot help that a certain Excalbian squeamishness on this point is a little too late after South-West Epheron and Narvasar and sooner or later someone will dispense with the charade of the nominally independent new state.”

He looked Donnelly in the eye. “Best-case scenario? A workers’ state. I won’t lie; we try to maintain the international order as best we can because we benefit from a stable and peaceful region but this is an ideological struggle at its core. We may have friends in the region, maybe even allies, but we have few ideological fellows, unless you count Daytanistan which, for the most part, I don’t.”

He placed his hands on the table. “But in as much as this is an ideological struggle, a class war, we are not so blind as to risk the stability of the region for such a goal. If we were then we wouldn’t have asked for this conference, and we wouldn’t be willing to negotiate terms. The primary goal, therefore, was always been with regards to the jade halssnoer, the jade necklace. There is a concern in some parts, many parts, of our government that the expansion of Snefaldian maritime interests poses an existential threat to the Fiefdom. Preventing that is not something that I would personally risk a conflagration over but then,” he gave a half-smile, “I am not the government, and for others that is a price they would themselves pay.

“Beyond that; we have, more by accident than design, found ourselves to be the patrons of the Butas. Just because this was planned for doesn’t mean that we feel entitled to renegade on our obligations.”

“The Snefaldia government,” Ortóvenë started, tapping a pen on the table as if to keep time with an invisible orchestra, “has no opinions on the form of government the Zamimbians choose, so long as that government is one that is not a socialist state, and I will state here and now that if the possibility of such a state coming to exist by any sort of action, my government will take action to prevent it, regardless of the cause. We should also state that we regard the expansion of Snefaldian maritime interests, both naval and merchant, as absolutely within our rights as a sovereign state, and not subject to discussion or negotiation with foreign powers. Our nation has the absolute right to pursue our own foreign policy, which I should like to stress here and now is not undertaken for the purpose of opposing the will of any other regional power. My government’s concern is the wellbeing and prosperity of the people and state of Snefaldia.”

He paused, letting this sink a little. “But. The question is Zamimbia. Snefaldia will support a strong federal state in the international community, and promote ethnic and national unity in Zamimbia, as well as contribute investment and support to the Zamimbian state so long as it remains a viable partner. We insist on strict anti-corruption measures on the part of the Zamimbian government, and we will also offer peace-keeping forces if the Zamimbian government “requests” them. I am sure that suitable pressure can be brought to bear from Citadel Excalbia that will help them see the value in that.”

Tarku interrupted him again and whispered in his ear. “Mmm. Yes. And, we would also support the presence of Anahuacan peacekeeping forces, in levels commensurate to other international contributions, and subject to Zamimbian approval. We would also like to invite the… Anahuacan government to contribute to any investment scheme.”

Tarku spoke with a smile. “Consider it a contribution to the economic liberation of the Zamimbian peasant. We would even support worker’s cooperatives if it made you feel any better.”

The Anahuacans conferred for a moment. “We are,” said Gainas with a smile, “agreeable to this proposal.” And why wouldn’t he be? It was a scientific fact that historical materialism would ultimately win the day. In time they would all be buried. “I am glad,” continued the People’s Commissar, “That we have been able to reach an amicable solution.”

Donnelly smiled. “I am very pleased that we’ve been able to come to an agreement, and to open the prospect of future contacts between your governments.” The reverend looked down at the notepad and his hastily scrawled notes.

“If I might summarise, Your Excellencies: We are agreed to support a Federal system for Zamimbia, but one with strong central government. Both Snefaldia and Anahuac will join our international peacekeeping force, which will allow the Zamimbian government to reform its military and police forces from the bottom up to ferret out corruption while promoting a strong national identity. We will require that the Zamimbian government adopt strong anti-corruption measures. Both Snefaldia and Anahuac will invest in Zamimbia and such investments may include the creation of worker’s cooperatives, where appropriate.”

Tapping his pen on his pad, Donnelly looked from one side of the table to the other. “To ensure that all ethnic groups accept the new system, we would propose a certain… ethnic balance to the initial government, making room for Minister Abiwole, Minister Mbala, and both a highlevel Nalu and a highlevel Muslim from Sakoto to participate at a highlevel. We also need to consider whether Field Marshal Amupanda needs to be… accomodated in the new regime or… forced to accept retirement. Finally, Snefaldia’s interest in port access, and Anahuac’s concerns about that access were mentioned earlier. I would suggest that Excalbia partner with both Snefaldia and Anahuac in separate port development projects - one in New Hope and the other in Port Freimanis, which would maintain… balance between Anahuacan and Snefaldian interests, while helping Zamimbia develop both its ports.

“If,” Donnelly looked up,”this is all acceptable, I suggest we conclude here and transmit our agreement to our counterparts meeting at New Excalbia. Oh, and one more thing,” he held up a hand, “I would like to reiterate our willingness to serve as a conduit for… discrete contacts between your two governments and my personal willingness to serve as a mediator, if one is needed.”

[Ajuba]

OOC: Joint post with Excalbia, The Resurgent Dream, Pantocratoria, Uncle Noel, Knootoss and Snefaldia - and puppets.

International Conference Centre, New Excalbia

An aide slipped forward and whispered in Cochran-King’s ear after the Knootian and South Epheronian delegations spoke. “Point of order,” Cochran-King the said, addressing Lady Ashley. “One seat is allowed for a representative of each sovereign nation at the conference table. I think we would all appreciate advisers at our sides but that is the format and it has its advantages. Every other nation has abided by it. Therefore, if President Chief Senele is not to be the representative of South Epheron at this conference, the Commonwealth of Gantara objects to his presence at the table.”

Lady Ashley, who had been slightly smiling through other leaders’ introductory remarks, until Staalman spoke eliciting a frown, shook her head slightly at the Gantaran Prime Minister’s point of order. “You are quite correct on the proper protocol, Your Excellency,” the Excalbian Chancellor said turning to face Cochran-King. “However, in the spirit of collegiality and in the interest of moving forward to the substantive issues before us, I am willing to allow the President Chief to remain at the table, with the stipulation that it is the official representative of South Epheron that speaks for the republic and that His Excellency is here in an… advisory capacity.” She looked around to see if there was a desire for any further discussion of the matter.

Cochran-King glanced towards the Caldan delegation as if expecting support but Foster shook her head slightly. She was not smiling but neither did she match Lady Ashley’s severe frown, much less the obvious agitation Cochran-King displayed. She lifted a hand for an aide to come up, put her hand over the mic, and whispered, “Have someone upstairs go into the hall with someone from the other major powers,” by which was understood Snefaldia, Anachuac, Pantocratoria, Knootoss, and Excalbia, “get their reactions to these developments. I mostly want to hear about Pantocratoria and Excalbia, low level and off the record.” She then took her hand off the microphone and looked back at the other delegates.

“The Republic of South Epheron recognises the President of the Epheronistani Confederal Council as a state that is moving towards independence”, said South Epheronian Prime Minister Joris Bastaard, gesturing towards President Chief Qaphelani Sanele, whose regal presence was undisturbed by the remarks from across the table, presenting a bored façade.

“As do we”, said Staalman. “Moving towards independence. And given the nature of our proposal, it is important that they are represented too. Call it what you will.”

Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè shook his head, very nearly frowning. “Snefaldia cannot accept the presence of unrecognized states as participants in these discussions on principle. We-” he stopped, holding his hand over the microphone as an aide whispered into his ear. He continued after a moment. “...the tribal associations in Zamimbia are duly represented by accredited representatives. With respect to the President Chief, the same must be the case for South Epheron.”

“Neither can the Caldan Union,” Foster said. Her gaze focused on Staalman rather than Baastard.

Hoogaboom tapped the microphone. “We too would voice our disapproval of the inclusion of these running-dogs of the mercantile, apartheid class of South Epheron.”

Lady Ashley sighed and sagged in her chair. “The objections of Gantara, Snefaldia and the Caldan Union are noted. Therefore, I propose that we put it to a vote. The question being whether the President Chief of the Epheronstani Confederal Council be seated at the table as a sovereign delegate to this conference or that he be seated with the rest of the South Epheronian delegation as a member of that delegation and an advisor to Prime Minister Baastard.” She looked around the room. “Unless there is further discussion, may I ask those in favour of permitting the President Chief to remain at the table to raise their hands?”

The Prime Minister of Kasakia raised his hand. He was joined by the Knootian Prime Minister, the South Epheronian Prime Minister and the Prime Minister of the Ernestine Empire.

Lady Ashley did a quick count on her notepad, then looked up. “That is four votes in favour of keeping His Excellency the President Chief at the table as a delegate and eight opposed.” She gave a slight bow of the head towards the President Chief. “I am afraid, Your Excellency, that I need to ask you to join the South Epheronian delegation behind Prime Minister Baastard.”

[The Resurgent Dream]

Skralins Islands

Major General Léonard Depardieu could not help being uncomfortable with the formal presentation of the commanding officers of each of the coalition forces to Admiral Jekob Pluvitis and Lieutenant General Patrick Garrett. The 1st Caldan Division was a substantive contribution and, as one with knowledge of the Royal Caldan Army’s organisation would know, the largest that might be made without altering the Caldan Union’s basic defense posture. In the Caldan Union, the Corps existed as an administrative rather than an operational unit, defined for purposes of advancement and training by similarity of military roles, customs, and tradition. For example, where V Corps had an armour division, the Royal Caldan Army had a Royal Armour Corps which had administrative responsibility for armour regiments in each division. The 2nd through 9th Caldan Divisions each corresponded to territorially defined interservice Command responsible for defence of that part of the Caldan Union. Except for the 7th Caldan Division, part of Island Command under Vice-Admiral Matt Ritchie, the commanding officers of each division also controlled their territorial Command as a whole, including Reserve units.

The 1st Caldan Division, however, was the deployment division. It consisted of a mobile Headquarters Regiment, logistical support for long-range deployments, special operations personnel, and several veteran peacekeeping regiments. In addition, at any given time, 1st Division had regiments rotated in from the other divisions and kept at the ready for rapid deployment. The entire division could deploy overnight if it were truly necessary and within a week without much hassle. Of course, the Caldan Union could deploy significantly more forces given a week or two. It could simply draw regiments from the other eight divisions. However, Caldan doctrine did not allow for them to be left so understrength. The Reserves would be called up and recruitment increased to make up for it. The security imperatives of a nation with numerous land borders were different, especially with the current situation in Leagran. Those structural concerns, the somewhat larger size of the Excalbian armed forces, Excalbia’s stronger national interest in Epheron, and a political decision by the Foster Government to encourage Excalbian leadership in the current climate, all meant it was a foregone conclusion that overall command of the multinational force would go to an Excalbian officer. However, had the other branches of the Royal Caldan Armed Forces contributed on a scale remotely comparable to the army’s, he would likely be commanding a full-scale Caldan expeditionary force and coordinating at arm’s length with the Excalbians.Instead, the navy and air force contributions were so token as to be meaningless unless they were plugged directly into the Excalbian command structure. Still, seniority did have some perks. As the multinational forces set themselves up, it was Royal Caldan Army transport that carried the Caldan commanders and, by invitation, some of the other international commanders.

Thus it was that a Dunnavant CH-146 Chevalier approached the Skralins Island headquarters. The Chevalier was a four-bladed, twin-engine, medium-lift utility helicopter not entirely dissimilar from the Excalbian AHX-36 Gryphon. On board this particular Chevalier Depardieu, Captain Lord Lucas Marek of the Royal Caldan Navy, Major Jack Collett of the Royal Caldan Air Force, Lieutenant Colonel Dean Hoynes of the Lanerian Army, Lieutenant Colonel Leonid Titarenko of the Kasakian Defence Force, Captain Harold Hawke of the Gantaran Army, and Captain Michael Lenihan of the Finaran Republican Army to their first meeting with Admiral Jekob Pluvitis and Lieutenant General Patrick Garrett. When the Chevalier landed, Depardieu was the first out as the senior officer present. However, properly speaking, he was not in command of any of the other officers and, as they approached the Excalbians and snapped to attention, each reported for duty in turn. Depardieu couldn’t help but think of the days in the Second Ambaran War and the Iesian Civil War when a Caldan expeditionary commander would be in command of a joint force operating on a scale that made coordination with allies a more distant thing.

[Excalbia]

Skralins Imperial Naval Station, Skralins Islands

As Major General Depardieu and the other allied officers disembarked the CH-146 Chevalier, they were met with a small honour guard bearing the flags of Excalbia, the Caldan Union, Laneria, Kasakia, Gantara and Finara. To the left of the honour guard, directly in front of the Caldan and allied officers stood a small number of Excalbian officers. Admiral Jekob Pluvitis was a tall, somber man with trim white hair peeking out from beneath his hat. He wore dress whites and the braid of a full admiral. Next to him stood Lieutenant General Patrick Garrett. Slightly shorter and bit thicker - like a weightlifter - the Iesian War veteran wore Imperial Army fatigues and a garrison cap with three six-point stars.To Garrett’s left was Commodore Alexandra Kent, the commander of the naval station. Behind the three flag officers were several other officers in a mix of dress whites, service whites and army fatigues.

A petty officer to the left of the arriving party sounded the boatswain's call on his pipes, then announced, “First Caldan Division arriving!”

Pluvitis and the other Excalbians waited for the arriving officers to salute, then returned the salute with parade ground precision. After that, Commodore Kent stepped forward.

“Welcome aboard His Imperial Majesty’s Naval Station of the Skralins Islands,” Kent said pleasantly. She turned and gestured to Pluvitis and then to Garrett. “May I present Admiral Pluvitis, Commander of the Second Imperial Fleet, and Lieutenant General Garrett, Commander of the Imperial Army’s V Corps.”

Pluvitis stepped forward and offered his hand. “Welcome, General Depardieu. We’re pleased that you’re here.”

[Excalbia]

OOC: Joint post with Excalbia, The Resurgent Dream, Pantocratoria, Uncle Noel, Knootoss and Snefaldia - and puppets.

International Conference Centre, New Excalbia

The President-Chief raised a single hand to tap out a folkloric rhythm on a richly painted calabash that sat by his side. Ta-tap ta-tap. Ta-tap ta-tap. As if on queue, six of his favoured concubines spilled onto the floor, dancing to the ta-tap ta-tap in gaudily adorned outfits that showed plenty of skin. They came to stand on four corners of the chair that had been decked with panther skin and lifted it up to their shoulders.

Ta-tap ta-tap. Ta-tap ta-tap.

As President Chief Qaphelani Sanele tapped the calabash, the six women shuffled backwards until he was satisfactorily seated behind the white delegation representing Southern Epheron. He made a dismissive, quiet gesture with his hand and the six women moved into the back themselves, leaving the President to sit there, quiet and ornate.

The Excalbian Chancellor raised an eyebrow, but held her tongue. She shook her head, then nodded and forced a smile. “I again wish to thank all of you for attending,” Lady Ashley began, “and for coming with a resolve to find a lasting solution to the problems of southern Epheron.” She looked from one side of the table to the other and rested her hands on its polished wood grain surface. “As a starting point for our discussions,” she continued, “I would like to offer a three-part proposal. First, recognising that ethnic conflict lies at the heart of the problems facing the region and that the current centralised governments in the southern Epheron have failed to adequately… accommodate competing ethnic interests, we would propose that Zamimbia be reorganised as a federal republic, with autonomous sub-national entities that correspond to the existing Buta, Nalu and Boer regions, along with the former Sultanate of Sakoto. Our hope would be that the breakaway South-West Epheronian state reintegrate with the new federal republic as one of its constituent entities.

“Second, we would propose a comprehensive development strategy, which include improved economic ties with all of Zamimbia’s neighbors, including South Epheron,” She paused and looked towards the Knootian delegation. “I appreciate the Knootian Prime Minister’s statement that apartheid can be brought to an end as part of a comprehensive settlement and we look forward to the end of apartheid opening the door for the reintegration of South Epheron in the Western Atlantic community and peaceful cooperation between South Epheron and Zamimbia.

“Finally, we would recommend that an international peacekeeping force be deployed to Zamimbia during a transitional period during which the Zamimbian military would withdraw from its domestic policing role and refocus solely on national defence and the current national police would be reorganised into local police forces under the control of the constituent parts of the new federal republic.” Lady Ashley let out a long breath and eased back into her chair to await the reaction of the other powers.

From his expression it was clear that the Zamimbian Foreign Minister was anxious to comment, yet Ricards Abiwole kept his peace and waited to see what the other “great powers” would have to say.

Foster looked towards Abiwole. “The proposal on the table involves the reorganisation of Zamimbia on a fairly basic, constitutional level. The Caldan Union would wish to know the Zamimbian attitude towards at least this aspect of the proposal before commenting.”

The Duke of Starograd sat with his arms folded whilst the preliminary remarks were made. He had said nothing on behalf of the Ernestine Empire, not wishing as he did to fill the air with yet more platitudes. He regarded Lady Ashley with the same disdainful expression as he regarded the little man from the village who came to clean the fountain at his ancestral home. When Foster was finished he leaned forward to speak. “With respect,” he said, a clear indicator that what was to follow was not respectful, “Before we hear the Zamimbian delegation, such as he is, we ought to look more carefully at these proposals from Lady Ashley,” he was not sure whether she counted as a real lady.

“Firstly, these sub-national entities seem to me a way of validating what is already occurring and, rather than securing the future of Zamimbia and will serve only to cause further division and, ultimately, partition. If we are saying, and it seems to me that we are, that Zamimbia has insufficient reserves of national pride such that our solution is to create smaller units that command the loyalty of the people then why bother? Would not our efforts be greater rewarded by facilitating as painless a divorce as possible rather than keep the unhappy marriage together and risk a further, more explosive, parting of ways at a later date?

“And I agree that Zamimbia requires economic integration but was this not promised at the last such gathering? All of us have obligations to our peoples and that precludes not the pouring of yet more marks or ducats into a place that has seemed incapable of making good the largesse of the region. God, Mr Abiwole, helps those who help themselves and I have seen precious little of the Zamimbian desire to improve their station. As for the third proposal, I am afraid that I would find very difficult to commend to His Majesty’s subjects that great effort on the part of our armed forces ought to be expended in an attempt to maintain the territorial integrity of a people who show no signs of being interested in protecting it themselves. This is not a burden that I would recommend; to seek another's profit, and work another's gain.”

Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè interjected, responding to the Ernestine delegation without looking at or mentioning them. “The States-Federation is eager to hear the thoughts of the Zamimbian representatives before we comment further, considering that it is their nation we are discussing.”

Ricards Abiwole gave a slight smile and leaned forward, turning on his microphone. “I wish to thank the States-Federation and the Caldan Union for valuing our position.” He cast a brief glance towards the Ernestine delegation. “I could, of course, regale you with a litany of the abuses suffered by Zamimbia, which have served to impede its development; however, such would serve no purpose. Neither does it serve our purpose to focus too much on the obvious failings of our past governments, including that of the late, corrupt President Bongani and former tyrant Field Marshal Mabuza.” He leaned forward. “What does matter is that President Duna and the National Unity Council are committed to moving forward to create a peaceful, prosperous and democratic Zamimbia.

“To that end, President Duna is about to call our first national elections since 1998. The election will seat a National Assembly, which we be called upon to ratify a new constitution.” He looked towards Lady Ashley. “If the interests of peace and democracy, not to mention stability, will be served by replacing our unitary state with a federal state, we are prepared to accept such a proposal and put it to a vote in the new National Assembly as part of the draft constitution. Similarly, we are prepared to accept… assistance in reforming our armed forces and national police.

“Finally, we are committed to maintaining our national unity and, if possible, seeking reunification with South-West Epheron. Additionally, as the Duke alluded to, commit ourselves and our resources to improving the lot of our people, in conjunction with whatever plan for economic development and regional economic integration emerges from this conference.”

“In light of the willingness of Zamimbia to consider a federal constitution, the Caldan Union supports the general approach outlined by the Holy Empire of Excalbia,” Foster said. “We believe that in a difficult situation with no clear or obvious answers, it offers the best path forward for Zamimbia, for Epheron, and for the Western Atlantic as a whole. As most of you know, the Caldan Union is also willing to contribute to the peacekeeping force as well as to contribute our experts to provide you with advice and assistance in setting up a federal system, a system of locally responsible civilian law enforcement, a system of impartial courts, and other mainstays of democratic governance.”

“Words, Mr Abiwole,” the Duke sneered, “Just words. We have been through this countless times before and no doubt, if the current proposition holds, will do so again. That said, I must commend you for your unflinching willingness to spend other people’s money.

“I am sure that the present Foreign Minister for Zamimbia could detail, at length, that great catalogue of crimes for which he blames the current misfortune of his nation. And I have no doubt that many a grievous wounding was struck to the people of his country....in the past. But I would remind him that many other nations have, during the long course of their histories, been afflicted with many shattering blows from which with courage, fortitude and devotion, they have sought to overcome in order that they may venture into gentler climates and better times. How long, Mr Abiwole, must the calamities of the past be used as an excuse for present failures?”

He looked to Lady Ashley. “The Excalbian proposals have much to laud them, and I would not hesitate to support them if the country in question was Upper Virginia, or Finara; but it is not, madam. The aforementioned constitutional complexities are like roads; they can be laid out with as much precision as one likes, but the utility of a traffic light or a junction depends on a sufficient level of expertise on the part of motoring public. Otherwise at best it is simply an unnecessary expense but at worst it causes confusion, delay and increases, not decreases, the likelihood of an accident.

“These proposals are an unmarked intersection, or a roundabout, in a country that lacks the capacity to rigorously enforce the regulations necessary for safe passage upon the highways. If Zamimbia has found herself unable to accommodate herself to the simpler mechanisms in place now then why do we assume that a greater degree of complexity will have a better likelihood of success? We cannot improve the situation simply through force of will, nor can we wave a hand and say ‘economic integration’ and hope that our good auspices will be sufficient to bring these into the light.

“I would say that a simpler solution be found to the current predicament, not one that piles the tinder for a greater conflagration to come.”

“What I believe our esteemed Ernestine colleague means,” the Snefaldian Chancellor said, “...is that the international community requires more than promises of a plebiscite. Snefaldia cannot promise aid and investment without a strict system of guarantees and assurances. The States-Federation does stand ready to aid in economic development, ensuring that freedom of opportunity comes equally to all ethnic groups in Zamimbia, but we will not throw bad money after good.”

The Duke nodded. The Snefaldians had always struck him as an eminently sensible people. “Countries, Mr Abiwole, are like banks. They cannot keep extending credit when there is no chance of repayment.”

“What sorts of guarantees would be Snefaldia be seeking, Your Excellency?” Lady Ashley asked focusing on the Snefaldian Chancellor and turned ignoring, for the moment, the Ernestine Prime Minister about whom she was already developing strong opinions.

“We propose a binding international treaty accord, linking investment funds and other incentives to certain benchmarks, such as elections, relaxing of foreign investment rules, and aspects of legal reform.” the Snefaldian Chancellor went on. “Should these benchmarks not be met, then investment will come to a halt. There must be an opening of Zamimbia; Snefaldian companies stand at the ready to invest, but cannot be assured of either political stability or of even keeping their profits if they have to pay bribes or fear confiscation of their assets.”

“The Caldan Union could agree, in principle, to the kinds of guarantees sought by the States-Federation,” Foster said. “Benchmarks would attach both to the constitutional, democratic process highlighted in the first part of the Excalbian proposal and to the economic process described in the second part. The multinational force could be deployed with a limited and well-defined mandate to keep the peace, prevent outside disruption of the process, and essentially provide the Zamimbians room to carry out and implement the necessary reforms. Substantive aid and advice would, of course, also be part of the process.” Even as she spoke, without being told, Caldan staff were reaching out to the Snefaldians and any others willing to try to work out more precise benchmarks based on quantitative data not available at a casual glance to those at the table.

Abiwole looked from the Snefaldian Chancellor to the Caldan Prime Minister to the Excablian Chancellor and then let his gaze drift across the table. Part of him was, frankly, outraged that these “great powers” would seek to dictate how another country should govern its affairs. Another part of him, however, recognized that the demands he had heard so far, apart from the prattling of the Ernestine Duke, were reasonable and, in the end, probably even beneficial to the cause of development. Still, he affected a mildly miffed appearance and held his head high as he waited to hear the details of the demands.

For her part, Lady Ashley was almost unreadable as she listened to Foster and Vinsëłmø-Ŕymè. She paused to see if Abiwole would speak, but he seemed to content to sit in silence for the moment. “I agree with Her Excellency, the Caldan Prime Minister. Certain benchmarks for both democratisation and economic reform no would both reassure the international community and set reasonable goals for the Zamimbian government.”

As she spoke, one of officers of the Ministry of State discretely moved towards the Caldan delegation to join the discussion of the details of the benchmarks.

The General Secretary looked concerned. “Free markets,” he said, watching the Excalbian official leave their delegation, “does not in of itself make a nation. Nor does an openness to foreign investment. We should like any such proposals to be linked to the material advancements of the Zamimbian worker and such proper labour rights as we would wish to see in our own jurisdictions. Otherwise we do no more than surrender the population to exploitation such as can be seen in...other places”. He was careful not to mention the Aerion overseas territory in case they were present.

Lady Ashley nodded. “We agree that protection for workers and fair labour provisions are important for ensuring normal development.”

Foreign Minister Abiwole made some notes, writing the word ‘Mbala’ and circling it, but continued to hold his tongue.

If the Ernestine Duke realised that he was losing the goodwill of the other delegates then he either didn't notice or didn't care. “It is not enough,” he 'prattled’, “Simply to tie these conditions to a reduction or cessation of the payments due. A homeowner who fails to keep up repayments is not simply denied further credit but is at risk of foreclosure.” He sniffed pompously. “ Given this is the second conference in living memory I do not think this is unjust a request.” He turned off his microphone and leaned across to the civil servant next to him. “See,” he asked quietly, “Whether the Snefaldian chancellor is granting audiences during the break in proceedings. I should very much like to speak to him.”

“A homeowner submits his house as collateral when taking out a mortgage,” Foster said patiently. “If there is no specific collateral attached to a loan, the bankruptcy laws of most nations, though imposing a cost and seeking some repayment of the underlying debt, do offer the bankrupt basic protections and a chance to start over. The analogy being ominously made is not an apt one. Perhaps the duke would care to make a proposal plainly?”

The Duke raised a noble eyebrow. “Madam,” he sniffed, “The analogy is perfectly sound. If the community of nations is being asked to bail out Zamimbia, again,” he looked pointedly at Abiwole, “Then it seems perfectly proper that we ask not only for a programme for reform but also, as Prime Minister for Caldas so charmingly put it, for collateral. As for that collateral, I mean what does Zamimbia have? I presume, sir,” he said addressing Abiwole, “That you have gold reserves? What sort of a railway system do you have and is it a government-owned entity?” He looked at Foster. “As the Caldan Prime Minister will know,” he said patiently, “It is not uncommon in commercial transactions for a bank to appoint receivers to maintain a business whilst the defaulted loan is repaid. Zamimbia has ample mineral resources which it has failed to utilise. Perhaps these assets could be held in trust by the international community pending the full implementation of the programme of reform we have discussed?”

Abiwole’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “We are prepared to make certain concessions and make certain guarantees, but we are not prepared to mortgage our nation’s patrimony or sell our inheritance for portion of porridge or recolonise ourselves under some foreign master.” The Zamimbian Foreign Minister drew in a sharp breath and shuffled the papers in front of him. “Now, if we are all prepare to speak realistically, we are willing to explore joint-venture arrangements to further develop our industry. There is already significant Pantocratorian and Aerionian investment in the mining sector, so we would like to develop other sectors and we are willing to grant certain concessions to develop those sectors along with our infrastructure. The development of the Zamimbian economy and the possibilities for trade, agricultural industry and minerals should offer profit enough for both the Zamimbian people and foreign investors.”

The Duke gave the foreign minister a cold stare. “Perhaps some recolonisation would do your country some good, considering how meagre your own efforts have been.”

The General Secretary had heard enough. “Perhaps,” he said, briefly flicking into English, “ A period of silence from your delegation might be welcome, unless it is you who wishes to take responsibility for the governance of Zamimbia and raise the banner of imperialism. The Foreign Minister is right; let us discuss realistic proposals and not pretend that a collection of white men in white uniforms can rectify the problems of Zamimbia from their hill stations.”

The Duke would not be lectured to by, of all people, a communist. He briefly considered storming out of the hall but decided that this was beneath his dignity. Instead he pointedly turned off his microphone and folded his arms, though not before he could be heard to mutter that it was all “a waste of time” and “not worth the bones of one grenadier.”

“What sort of joint-venture arrangements? What other sectors beyond the mineral and agricultural sector would your government be willing to pursue?” Sir Isaac Comnenus asked, deciding to ignore the ideological spat next to him and to focus on the important issue of making Pantocratorian investors more money.

“I believe that there are a variety of opportunities for profitable investments,” Abiwole began with a slight smile, looking relieved to be discussing specifics, “particularly in the transportation sector - railroads and ports, principally. Also, beyond the note efficient delivery of our rare metals from mines to markets, we believe there are opportunities to develop industries using those very same rare metals without shipping all of them to distant processing plants and factories.”

“My government has already promised a substantial amount of investment in those very sectors as a part of our Common Continent initiative, and some initial investment monies were already disbursed in the last few years.” the Snefaldian Chancellor continued, decided to barrel through the roadblocks the Ernestines seemed intent on throwing up. “The Snefaldian government views it as essential for regional growth, to effectively connect Zamimbia to the international transportation grid in the form of freight rail, deep-water ports, and shipping.”

Lady Ashley nodded. “Colleagues, I believe that we have made good progress here.” She turned her wrist to look at her watch. “Let us take a recess, for an hour, to allow some private consultations and refreshment, then we’ll reconvene.” With that, the delegates and their staffs began to stand and move about the room.

[Knootoss]

((Joint post with Zamimbia))

After the delegates recessed, each delegation was free to meet in their assigned conference rooms on the second floor of the international conference centre. Each room was actually a suite with a meeting room, a small side office and private toilet facilities. Water, coffee, tea and an assortment of snack foods had been placed in each suite.

As the delegations drifted out of the main conference room, Foreign Minister Abiwole followed the South Epheronians and Knootians to their suite.

Staalman barreled into the room with hunched shoulders, his tone of voice louder than might be expected in diplomatic circles, now speaking in Dutch, which was duly translated into English by the skinny blonde woman who followed him around: “We worked our guts out to formulate a proposal to end apartheid, but these communists and feudal dogs would rather squabble over railroad concessions! Our proposal deserves to be heard! Yet the powers would rather give time to hear the concerns of these insignificant little principates, who have no stake in Epheron and no power to make any difference.”

The South Epheronian foreign minister nodded in agreement, turning to the Zamimbians who had joined them: “I believe that our proposal merits consideration.” He placed a file on the table.

“If there is a genuine prospect for ending aparthied,” Abiwole began, “I am more than willing to hear your proposal and consider it, Sir.”

The foreign minister opened the folder, spreading a map out over the table that showed the various ‘sovereign tribal homelands’ that dotted the South Epheronian state, as well as neighbouring countries. His finger went over lines that had been drawn with gentle dots, as if to suggest their tentative nature.

“To create a homeland for the black and white peoples of the region dovetails with your own desire for a confederal arrangement. We would be prepared - ahem, the President-Chief and his sovereign council of tribal elders would be prepared to relinquish these tribal lands into the sovereignty of a reformed, confederal Zamimbia. In return, we want a united Boerestaat.” Referring to the incorporation of Southwestern Epheron into the Republic, judging by the presence of the map. More reluctantly, he added: “We are also prepared to make certain territorial concessions to make the tribal homelands more contiguous with your new Confederal state. Though there will be places with large, white, settled populations where this is not possible.” His hand went over the map again, showing several isolated pockets that would be given over to Zamimbia.

“We pressed hard for those territorial concessions”, Staalman insisted. “So that your blacks can have a proper home.”

Abiwole examined the map in silence for several moments. “I believe that we would be willing to relinquish the remainder of the Southwestern Province under the right circumstances.” He looked at the map again, then up at the South Epheronian foreign minister. “We are willing to accept into Zamimbia the areas were the former so-called tribal homelands can be made contiguous to our territory. However, we are not… excited about the prospect of having exclaves within your national territory.” He looked from the foreign minister to Staalman and back. “What guarantee would we have of unhindered access to these exclaves?”

The South Epheronian foreign minister retained a cool demeanour: “Some agreement can be made about freedom of transit for your citizens, within reason, along designated roads”, he remarked. “And if you do not wish to incorporate these territories, then there would be two alternatives. Sovereign recognition can be extended to these tribal homelands as independent states by the conference, or the people in it can be moved into the new Zamimbia.”

Abiwole crossed his arms across his chest and used his right hand to stroke his chin. “If we accepted the exclaves, would you agree to… joint police patrols of the highways - to be built by South Epheron, where needed - connecting them to Zamimbia proper?”

The South Epheronian foreign minister looked to Staalman, who nodded: “We can build roads like no others. Don’t you worry about it”, he said. “We’ll pay for those roads. They will be great roads. The best.” He lifted his chin proudly.

The South Epheronian foreign minister smiled faintly: “Our Knootian friends have some budget for transition costs that may be incurred, so long as proper credit is given. Roads. A railway. Details can be negotiated, of course. And we will certainly be policing sections of it---” he hesitated. “Though it may be better if responsibility for policing is divided along sections of the network, rather than shared patrols.” He seemed a little squeamish at the prospect.

“Hmmm.” Abiwole stood in silence for a moment. “If the residents of these exclaves are to be our citizens, they will need the assurance of their safety that Zamimbian police forces will provide.” He gave a wry smile. “Of course, I recognize that the Zamimbian police have not always had the… best reputation. But, then, Sir, you must understand that neither have the South Epheronian police. At least among the residents of these exclaves.”

“Some of our police may balk at the idea of joint patrols with black officers”, the Foreign Minister said simply. “I believe some racial sensitivity is called for in this case. Zamimbia does have a white minority…” He trailed, not believing this idea had a high chance of success.

“Perhaps some… racial sensitivity training of your police forces might be called for, then,” Abiwole said with a smile. “However, let me offer an… interim solution. As I understand it, the Excalbians mean to deploy an international peacekeeping force to allow… a restructuring of the Zamimbian Amry and police forces along more… professional lines. While a new police force is being created in Zamimbia… and your policemen adjust to the idea of patrolling with black officers, perhaps we could leave these routes under the watchful eyes of the international peacekeepers.”
“We would be more comfortable with Knootian security, if it’s all the same. Maybe under the umbrella of the peacekeeping operation”, the foreign minister suggested.

“Excellent idea!” Staalman agreed, slapping the man on the shoulder a bit too hard. “Our boys in grey will train your police to tolerate blacks, and keep everything safe while the transition is made.”

“A splendid notion”, the foreign minister agreed half-heartedly, pressing his round spectacles back to the tip of his nose.

Abiwole smiled. “We have no objection to Knootian peacekeepers… provided the Excalbians and the other members of the international force have no objections. And as long as they operate under the joint command being set up by the Excalbians.”

Staalman looked a bit sour. Then shrugged. “It’s fair enough. We got the Iesus war, they can have this thing.”

“Good,” Abiwole said. “Next, then, about apartheid. I assume that you will formally abolish apartheid and that any… non-white citizens remaining in South Epheron will be granted full citizenship rights? Just as any whites remaining in Zamimbia will have full citizenship rights?”

Staalman and the South Epheronian exchanged a look, before the latter took another page out of the folder, presenting it to Abiwole. He summarised: “Citizenship will be granted on the basis of proven ties to the country. Property, formal employment or birth certificates. There will be a group of non-whites who will be given citizenship on that basis. Illegal squatters will not be given citizenship under the terms of this agreement, and they may stay as resident workers or be repatriated to what will be Zamimbia.”

“Hmm.” Abiwole stroked his chin again. “This is a little less than I was hoping for… It may make it more difficult to sell to all parties in Zamimbia.” He paused then continued. “Perhaps… Let me ask: what rights will these ‘guest workers’ have? If they will be subject to the restrictions of apartheid, then it will be difficult. If not. If, for example, they are free to congregate, live, work, etc., where they wish - and can afford, in the case of where they live - and are guaranteed a minimum wage, then it might be doable.”

The South Epheronian foreign minister spoke frankly: “We want a Boerestaat that is a part of the modern world. This means, we want a white majority country, not a divided ethno-state. Political rights will be for those who are citizens, and that includes propertied blacks and coloureds.”

He shrugged, continuing: “The squatters are of course a problem. As you know, there are hundreds of thousands of them in shanty towns around our major cities. If we give citizenship to all of them, we will be a minority in our own country. And we don’t have the jobs and infrastructure to give them all a decent life. Those who can earn a decent income can stay as guest workers. Others will have to go and live in their own country.”

Abiwole frowned and studied the foreign minister’s face. After several uncomfortable minutes, he spoke. “The only way will accept… repatriation of the residents of these shanty towns, is if they voluntarily request repatriation to Zamimbia. Of course, we are willing to work with you… to some extent… to make this an attractive option. If assistance were forthcoming from your country…,” he looked to Staalman, “and Knootoss to provide them decent housing in Zamimbia and to help our country’s economy provide them with jobs… perhaps if you gave them… a stipend. Then, they might want to come… home.”

“Voluntary repatriation is preferable”, the minister agreed. Though the last word left some pause as to whether he felt it would be sufficient. “So long as it is understood that these people will not gain citizenship of our Republic simply by staying in these shantytowns.”

Staalman shook his head, though. “We can take in some of the willing folks as guest workers. A few more cleaners and other uneducated folks are always welcome. We can even let you build these things from the money we’ve budgeted for those roads. But we’re not going to pay these people a permanent bribe to stay out of South Epheron. They’ll just take the bribe and come back, to take the bribe again. It won’t work. I know some other countries tried to do that with the gypsies, and that’s exactly what happened.”

“I am not speaking of a permanent stipend, but some time-limited transitional assistance,” Abiwole said. “If we combine all this with guarantees that all those non-whites entitled to citizenship will have full citizenship rights, then we may be on to something.” He paused. “And there is one more issue I would like to raise about the Southwestern Province.”

“I suppose there can be some funding to help them move out”, the minister agreed reluctantly, looking over to Staalman, who clearly resented the idea. “So long as these people are tracked, so that they don’t come back. Identification would be a precondition of such help.”

Staalman clearly did not want to talk more about this, so he jumped on the suggested change of topic: “What about the Southwestern Province?”

“Although we will remain self-sufficient in food with the loss of the Province,” Abiwole began, turning to face Staalman, “agricultural exports and agro-industry were to be two pillars of our economic development. If the Southwestern Province and its produce is to merge with South Epheron, then we would need a guarantee that a certain percentage of the region’s produce will be shipped through Zamimbian ports and that certain percentage will be sold, on favorable terms, to our factories to fuel agro-industrial exports.” He smiled. “The good news is that roads and railroads already connect these areas to our coastal ports. So we simply need a guarantee that the South Epheronian government will… encourage the farmers in the region to continue to use them to take their good to market.”

“Sounds to me like this would be something for the free market to decide. If the roads are that good, there’d be no problem”, Staalman said a bit sourly. “You wouldn’t need free food handouts if you are already self-sufficient.” He folded his arms.

The South Epheronian foreign minister shrugged, though: “We have no desire to disrupt the way of life of Boer farmers in the region. We can negotiate a trade agreement that allows for the movement of such goods. Though any terms that are favourable to Zamimbia would be on a transitional basis. To be renegotiated in, say, five years? I’m sure we can come to an equitable agreement.”

Abiwole smiled. “Make it ten years with a phased transition. And let’s add a commitment to negotiate a free trade agreement at the end of the period and I think we have a deal.”

“I believe that is agreeable”, the foreign minister said, looking briefly to Staalman, who nodded in assent, before he extended a hand towards Abiwole.

Abiwole shook the South Epheronian’s hand. “An end to apartheid and peace between Zamimbia and South Epheron. This quite an achievement.”

“So it is!” Staalman agreed, slapping both on the shoulder before joining in the shaking of hands. He then grinned sharkishly as he looked towards Abiwole: “Will you take care of the Excalbians? They may be a little… surprised.”

“I will go brief them, now.” Abiwole said.

“Good”, Staalman said, reaching for his mobile phone, to go and put a message on Twatter.

@STAALMAN: Just concluded HISTORIC DEAL. More details to come. Everyone is glad I came personally! #Knootiandiplomacy

[Zamimbia]

Joint post with Excalbia

Lady Ashley sat at the desk in the private side office next to the Excalbian delegation room scribbling notes, which she hoped to organise into an intelligible briefing for the Caldans and the Pantocratorians on the outcome of the Providencia summitt, without giving away any of the details that the Anahuacans and Snefaldians were expecting her to keep confidential.

She looked up at the sound of a knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Chancellor said.

A junior staffer opened the door and bowed slightly. “My Lady, Mr. Ricards Abiwole, the Zamimbian Foreign Minister to see you.”

The Chancellor stood and straightened her jacket. She closed her notebook and nodded. “Please send him in, Linda.”

The staffer nodded and departed to be replaced moments later by Abiwole. The Zamimbian bowed slightly.

“Your Excellency,” the Foreign Minister began, “thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” Lady Ashley gestured to the chair across from her. “Please, come in and have a seat.”

Abiwole walked across the office and took the seat, folding his hands and resting them in his lap.

“So, Minister Abiwole,” Lady Ashley began, “I couldn’t help but notice that you left the conference room with the South Epheronian Foreign Minister and...Mr. Staalman.”

“Yes, I did, My Lady,” Abiwole said. “They asked for a meeting. And I’ve come to let you know the details of our agreement.”

“Agreement?” Lady Ashley raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Abiwole drew in a breath. “We have agreement to a slight… border adjustment. The remainder of the Southwestern Province will be allowed to… reunite with Southwest Epheron and both will join the South Epheron Republic. Meanwhile, the former so-called tribal areas of South Epheron will become part of Zamimbia. Those areas that cannot be made contiguous will be connected by roads and rails that will, initially, be patrolled by your international peacekeeping force until we and the South Epheronians can work out joint patrols. Meanwhile, South Epheron will abolish apartheid. Those non-whites in South Epheron who meet the non-racial standards for citizenship will be equal citizens. Those who do not will be permitted to live as guest workers in South Epheron, given the opportunity to accept repatriation to Zamimbia or apply for guest worker status in Knootoss. South Epheron has also agreed to continue shipping the produce of Southwestern Epheron through Zamimbian ports and provide exports and concessional rates for ten years to fuel our agro-industry’s exports.”

Lady Ashley leaned back, her mouth slightly open. She stood and walked away from the desk, then turned and looked down at Abiwole. “This is… unexpected.” She frowned. “Do you understand how much political capital we’ve expended to protect Zamimbia’s borders? And now you’re giving that territory away for something less that the clear, forthright abolition of apartheid that we’ve always demanded?”

“With all due respect, Madam Chancellor,” Abiwole said, coming to his feet. “We are not giving away any territory. We are adjusting borders. We gain as much territory as we lose, if not more. And apartheid will be abolished. We have achieved something here that all the great powers, despite years of sanctions and posturing, have failed to achieve. Plus, we have gained firm commitments of assistance to our new citizens being repatriated from South Epheron, of favourable trade, and of infrastructure investment to unite us with our new territories. And the Knootians will be joining your international peacekeeping force. Which will add to its credibility and ensures peace with their South Epheron clients. For us this is a win.”

Lady Ashley frowned.

“And frankly,” Abiwole crossed his arms, “I care less about your political capital than I do my country’s interests.”

The Chancellor turned and went back to chair and sat. After a moment Abiwole, too, took his seat.

“So, this is a done deal?” She asked.

“It is,” Abiwole replied. “As much as what you have planned for my country’s… restructuring.”

“So,” Lady Ashley folded her hands on her desk, “you and South Epheron trade territory. They end apartheid, you allow them to… expel their non-white residents to Zamimbia and you get trade concessions and development assistance. Is that it?”

“No one will be expelled,” Abiwole said through his teeth. “We have agreed to voluntary repatriations with generous inducements. We are not talking about rounding people up and expelling them by force.”

The Excalbian harrumphed. “And now you trust the South Epheronians?”

“The deal is in both our interests. So, it is in their interest to abide by it. They want back into the international community. And I’m sure they know they won’t be let in if they start driving people out like the Leagrans.”

Lady Ashley rubbed her temples. “So, about the rest. A federal government. A set of achievable conditions - economic reform, military and police reform, anti-corruption measures, worker protection, certain… agreements on port deals for key players,” Abiwole raised an eyebrow, but Lady Ashley continued, “ethnic balance in the new government, etc. in exchange for international development assistance. We work on infrastructure and helping develop industry and fade out assistance over time. All of this is acceptable?”

“It is,” Abiwole said.

Lady Ashely nodded. “Very well. I need to consult with some of my colleagues. Excuse me, Minister Abiwole.”

[The Resurgent Dream]

Joint post with Excalbia

Lady Ashley Gordon-Robb bowed as she was shown in to see the Caldan Prime Minister in their delegation suite.

“Your Excellency,” the Chancellor said, “thank you for seeing me so urgently.”

Foster stood from where she sat at a table looking over some papers. She curtseyed to the Excalbian Chancellor and then glanced to her aides.”Could we have the room for a moment?”

After they filtered out, she gestured for Lady Ashley to have a seat and sat herself only after her Excalbian counterpart did. “Please, it’s Lola.”

“Thank you, Lola. And, please, call me Ashley.” The Chancellor sat and crossed her legs at the ankles. “I’ve just come from a meeting with the Zamimbian Foreign Minister. Apparently, they’ve taken it upon themselves to negotiate a side deal with the South Epheronians.”

“Just how far to the side?” Foster asked, a small frown touching her lips. She did not particularly trust or like the South Epheronians. It was rather hard to.

“They’ve agreed,” Lady Ashley began with a frown, “to - as Abiwole called it - ‘a border adjustment’. Essentially they’re trading the rest of Boerland in Southwest Epheron for the so-called tribal areas, which now become parts of Zamimbia. They’re also allowing the South Epheronians to ‘voluntarily’ repatriate black South Epheronians outside the tribal areas to Zamimbia in return for a formal end to apartheid and extending citizenship to a subset of black South Epheronians.” She sighed. “Oh, and they’ve agreed with Staalman that the Knootians will join the international peacekeeping force to patrol the highways connecting Zamimbia and its new enclaves until they and the South Epheronians can work out joint patrols. And they get some money and trade concessions.”

“Do you have any reliable sources on what people in these tribal areas think of this?” Foster asked. “We’ve been lobbied by the usual anti-Apartheid groups who I’m sure will see this as the betrayal of an authentic, pluralist future for South Epheron, but most of them are living comfortably in the Caldan Union. The President Chief seems disinclined to do anything than nod to anything a white man says in Dutch. But what do ordinary black South Epheronians think? It’s hard to sell changing borders drastically, changing people’s nationality without giving them some input. I’m not sure we could simply accept the formal agreement of the President Chief when we’ve refused to recognise that farce for years.” She frowned and leaned back. “On the other hand...on the other hand, I don’t know if we’re going to get a better offer for a peaceful end to Apartheid or if the rest of the agreement can go forward without giving the South Epheronians, and more importantly the Knootians, this concession.”

Lady Ashley allowed her shoulders to slump and she shook her head. “As for what the people in the tribal areas think, we have no real idea. We don’t have anyone on the ground in the absence of diplomatic relations with South Epheron. As for the President Chief, Abiwole made no mention of him; I suspect that the Dutch threw him out the window as soon as Abiwole offered to make a deal.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I agree that there should be a plebiscite of some kind to get the people’s ascent, but even if the South Epheronians and Zamimbians agree, can we really trust the outcome? It’s not like either party scores high in matters of electoral ethics.” She rubbed her eyes. “And I agree with you that human rights groups all across the Western Atlantic will raise holy hell. But, as you said, I don’t know if there’s a better deal to be had. And with Zamimbia agreeing to this, if we stand in the way, do we run the risk of being accused of neocolonialism for interfering with their foreign affairs?”

“We do, Ashley,” Foster conceded with a sigh. “I think ultimately we do have to agree to something more or less like the deal on the table. It’s not like two nations are competing for these territories. South Epheron doesn’t want these people. That’s the whole crux of the issue. Still, there has to be something done to ameliorate these issues without being totally fraudulent.”

“I agree, Lola. Some sort of election.” She paused ran a finger across her lips. “Perhaps, since the Zamimbian government is to be reconstituted along the lines of a federal system and they will need to have some sort of a constitutional assembly to draft the a new constitution….” She paused for a moment, then leaned forward and continued. “What if the tribal areas elected to send delegates to that assembly? That would both indicate assent to the… border adjustment and it would give them a voice in forming their new government.”

“I think that might just work,” Foster agreed. “They wouldn’t be forced to accept a foreign power. They would be a constitutive part of the nation in the most literal sense. I also think we should set about electing local officials as soon as possible according to the models prevalent in Zamimbia. The Constitution would likely only require minor adjustments there and we’d have authentic representatives with whom to deal. That might also make it easier for the residents to feel like they were gaining control, not just being passed around.”

She sighed and looked down, running a hand over her forehead. “I keep thinking, Ashley, on my father’s side, I have an ancestor, Sean Foster, who fled Laneria seeking freedom in Caldas and returned in His Majesty’s uniform during the Lanerian War. There’s a family story that he was one of the soldiers present when General Law surrendered to the Duke of Tremont and that he recognised his former master among the humiliated officers accompanying Law and jeered him. I don’t like handing the South Epheronians their exclusionary Utopia and you’re right that people will be very upset back home. If we do this, some of my most devoted constituents will feel betrayed in a way they never would if Flynn or Welton made the same deal. If I don’t, I become an identity politics prime minister.” Her frown deepened. “But I think we have to. Let’s just make sure these elections go without a hitch.”

Lady Ashley listened intently, leaning forward slightly as the Caldan Prime Minister recounted the story of her ancestor. “I can’t say that I completely understand, Lola, not being in the position that you’re in, but I do hear you and I am sympathetic to your situation. Both political and historical. And I agree that we need to make sure these elections go smoothly. And that they’re honest. In many ways, this will cast the die that will shape the future of Zamimbia.”

The Chancellor paused for a moment, then continued. “There are other issues, as well. You may know that Snefaldia and Anahuac have been trying to outmaneuver each other in Zamimbia and that we’ve been concerned that they could come to conflict. I’ve just been informed that they’ve reached an agreement to avoid conflict over Zamimbia and to support the federal option and both the international peacekeeping force and the economic development of Zamimbia. Their price is a concession from the Zamimbians on access to its ports. Abiwole has told me that Zamimbia agrees to this condition. He has also agreed to a list of conditions for future assistance, including economic and labour reforms, human rights reforms, progress on fighting corruption and a reorganisation of its military and police forces.”

“All of that sounds much more palatable,” Foster said, “and not too different from what we’ve discussed openly at the conference table. The entire region is involved in this now and a lot depends on market confidence, political confidence in the new Zamimbian government by its own people, and its credibility internationally. There’s not room to lament its less tasteful aspects as publicly as much as we might like. If we’re going to do this, I think the major powers need to be all in at the ministerial level, for the agreement as a whole if not for every single provision.”

“I agree,” Lady Ashley said. “I plan to go speak with the Pantocratorians next. I can also talk with the Anahuacans. The Knootians, of course, know about everything - except the deal for port concession for Anahuac and Snefaldia and frankly I’d prefer to leave that as a separate deal between those parties, rather than part of the general agreement.

“Very well,” Foster said. “You can tell Sir Isaac that I’m on board.” She rose and offered her hand to Lady Ashley.

Lady Ashley stood and shook Foster’s hand with a slight bow.

[Uncle Noel]

Joint post Excalbia

As she shuttled from one delegation room to another, Lady Ashley Gordon-Robb paused to grab a bottle of water from one of the refreshment tables that dotted the second floor corridor. She took several quick drinks, then knocked on the door of the Socialist People’s Fiefdom’s delegation.

The Anahuacans were in a sombre mood as Lady Ashley entered the anteroom. A TV, quietly murmuring in the corner, was the only sound. The General Secretary sat upon a sofa, looking at the opposite wall with a faraway look. Only gradually did he become aware of the Excalbian’s presence.

“Lady Ashley,” he said in accented English, raising himself to his feet with the aid of a steading arm of another in the delegation, “Thank you for coming.” He motioned her towards a closed door which lead to the office assigned for his use and closed it behind them. They were alone, free from even the swirling translators that had been their constant companions during the state visit.

“Your Excellency,” she replied with a slight bow. “Thank you for receiving me.

He gestured towards a seat, his English still having conversational-shaped gaps, and sat across from her behind the conference centre’s desk. He seemed to shrink into the chair; suddenly looked very old and very tired.

Lady Ashley followed the General Secretary into the office and took the chair across the desk from him. She neatly folded her hands in her lap.

“I am very glad that you have come, Comrade Gordon-Robb,” he said without noticing the mistake in addressing her, “I wanted to say a few things before our efforts here were concluded.” He removed his glasses and proceeded to polish them on a handkerchief. “First, I am worried about the sort of peace we may have won here today. When we first spoke on the subject, some months ago, I think we were both of the same mind that Snefaldian territorial ambition had to be checked, and I am not sure it has. On the contrary, she has been welcomed into the peacekeeping force and legitimised as a concerned party.”

“I understand your concerns, Sir,” Lady Ashley said with a nod. “I assume that you’re refering to the conclusion of the summit in Providencia. I, too, was surprised at the conclusion. However, I do think that it does succeed in preventing Snefaldia from gaining a foothold on Zamimbian territory. And while it does give them certain commercial concessions and port access, it seems to me that it strives to maintain an… evenness… a balance between those concessions and… opportunities for Anahuac to maintain a matching presence.”

The Chancellor tilted her head to one side. “While neither of us… particularly wanted Snefaldian participation in the peacekeeping force, there inclusion does, in effect, handcuff them and prevent them from trying to overturn the final settlement. Since, of course, the peacekeeping force remains under Excalbian command.”

Lady Ashley stiffened slightly. “There is… however, another unexpected development that you need to know about.” She drew in a breath. “Foreign Minister Abiwole has informed me that Zamimbia and South Epheron have come to their own seperate agreement. According to Abiwole, Zamimbia will swap Boerland in the rump of the old Southwestern Province in exchange for the so-called tribal areas of South Epheron. They will also accept black South Epheronians as Zamimbian citizens and encourage them to come to Zamimbia and in return South Epheron will formally end apartheid.” She shook her head. “As you can imagine, this has come as quite a shock to us.”

Hoogaboom said nothing but rather looked down and regarded his own wrinkled hands. “Die dwase,” he muttered eventually, “The fools.” He fixed Gordon-Robb with a hard look. “This changes matters,” he said severely, as though the Excalbian herself had agreed the proposal, “We cannot be seen to be party to any deal with the fascists of South Epheron.” He wrung his hands. “There are already critics in the party, people saying that we have reached too much of an accomodation with the capitalist powers of the region, that we have,” he went pale, “Betrayed the revolution. Agreeing to this proposal would only reinforce that. It cannot be allowed to pass.”

He leaned back with an exasperated look. “All along this process we have encouraged the trespasses of others. Snefaldia seeks to expand her borders and, whilst you say, we may have bound their hands for now we forget that all ropes loosen over time. They are in this for the long haul, we both know that, and by inviting them in we run the risk that one day, when we are distracted, we turn around and discover that they are now lodged like a tick. Is it not near Halloween, Comrade Gordon-Robb? Do they not say that vampires have to be invited in?”

He sighed. “I knew we should have made greater efforts at the time to prevent the creation of the bastard child of South-West Epheron and now we stand to appease the transgressors. Invade your neighbour, establish your puppet, and in a few years the international community will be so sick of it all that they would rather reward your misdeeds than distract themselves any longer. Is that our victory? Is that the cost of peace? I think it too high a price.”

Lady Ashley let out a slow sigh. Her face wore a weary, almost forlorn look. “I am no happier about this than you are… Sir.” She paused and gave a half-hearted smile. “And, please, call me Ashley.” Her smile faded quickly. “Your government will not be only one facing criticism over this. Prime Minister Foster and I both know that human rights groups back home will savage us over letting South Epheron get away with a half-hearted abolition of apartheid.” She sighed again. “Of course, I would prefer that the last Zamimbian crisis had ended differently; it would have left us in a much better position this time.

“But that said, here we are. There are circumstances that neither of us can control.” She shook her head. “All we can do is make the best of what we’ve been handed and, in my case at least, try to leave less of a mess for my successor than what we have inherited here.

“In that regard, I do think there are some positives that we can salvage. Yes, the Snefaldians have gotten the proverbial nose of the camel under the tent, but we have put constraints in place, as long we remain vigilant, which I promise you we shall. Yes, Zamimbia has accepted less than a half a loaf on apartheid, but they have accepted it. So, our choice is either to respect that decision, as much as we might regret it, or play the imperialist and overturn it. On the positive side, Zamimbia has accepted the federal proposal and the presence of the peacekeepers. They’ve committed to reforms - including more protections for workers and the establishment of workers’ collectives as part of Anahuac’s investments - and with Snefaldia’s acquiesce, I might add - and stringent anti-corruption measures. While this isn’t the outcome we wanted, I believe that if we hold everyone’s feet to the fire to meet their commitments and see it through, rather than letting the problem simply fade away as we did before, we can leave things in a significantly better situation than we found it. But to do that, we all do need to stick together.”

A smile appeared on the General Secretary’s face. “Ah yes,” he said, “We must stick together. You have reminded me of the second thing I wanted to speak to you about.” He raised himself from his chair and, supporting himself with one hand on the desk, leaned across to offer his hand to Lady Ashley. “I wanted to thank you,” he said, “When I first asked your ambassador to see me all that time ago I had in mind, perhaps, a vaguely worded statement of mutual respect but nothing more. I never imagined either the Treaty of Amity nor, as it happened, the warm greeting I received in your country. It was…..unexpected, and I did not think at my age there was much that would surprise me, so thank you. There have been a few...teething troubles, what with this Zamimbia business, but I see better days and brighter times for our two countries.”

Lady Ashley stood and took the General Secretary's hand. “Thank you, for placing your trust in us. I know that we're quite different in many ways, but I also believe that we both genuinely want the best for our people.”

Hoogaboom sat. “I also, Ashley,” he said, pronouncing her name like he was tasting wine, “And feel free to call me Noel, I wanted to wish you all the best for your retirement.” He chuckled. “Retired,” he laughed, “At 58! At 58 I had not long become General Secretary and that, Ashley, was 34 years ago. 34! What will you do with yourself and your early retirement?” He let out another chuckle which collapsed into a sigh. “I don’t know whether to think you’re crazy for leaving the stage so young or to feel envious that you’re able to. When Oostmal told us, well, we thought you were joking with him. What has made you decide to go? You and Lady Freedman, both gone. We Anahuacans wait generations for such changes, most are still waiting. I don’t suppose it will do any harm now but Oostmal, well, he became rather smitten with your Lady Christina; kept watching videos on the computer of her old tv shows, but don’t tell anyone because if his wife finds out then no one, not even the VKS, could save him.”

For what felt like the first time in days Lady Ashley laughed. Not a small polite laugh, but a loud, unexpected and uninhibited laugh. “Oh, my. She has been known to have that effect on men! And she's very much aware of it, let me tell you! And I won't breathe a word of the good Admiral’s infatuation.” She paused for a moment and composed herself. “As for retiring, well, to be honest our system can be… tiring. Not only is there the government to run, but there's the politics and the campaigning.” She shook her head. “And I suppose that I'm just vain enough to want to leave on my own schedule, rather than waiting to lose an election or a vote of confidence because some ambitious backbencher decides to switch parties. My predecessors have tended to hang on until they were fired in one way or another. I just wanted to go on my own terms.

“As for what I'll do,” she continued, “I suppose that I'll try to stay out of the public eye for a while; give my successor a moment alone on the stage. Eventually, I'd like to travel. I've been to a dozen countries as Chancellor, and before that as Minister of State, but I swear that all I've seen are the same airports, the same meeting halls, and the same state dining rooms over and over and again. So, I'd like to really see some of the places I've been, all the sights I was always too busy to see before. There are also several charitable donations I'd like to work with; try to put my name and former title to use in a few good causes.”

The General Secretary smiled. “Well, Ashley, if your travels ever bring to Anahuac then you must let me know, my door is always open and I promise that I won’t talk shop. Well, I’ll try not to.” He chuckled to himself. ‘Ambitious backbenchers,’ he thought, ‘Votes of confidence. What a strange bunch these Excalbians are.’

“Thank you,” Lady Ashley said. “I may just take you up on that offer.”

The smile slipped slightly. “Which I suppose brings us to the question of the future.” He tapped a small pile of papers that had sat next to him through their talk. “This new chancellor, what’s he like? I hope he as keen as the outgoing administration of our continued efforts to work towards peace in the region.”

“Baron Dainis is a good man,” she began. “He’s a family man, level-headed. He comes out of the old Liberal Party, like me. His background is in economics, with a focus on economic fairness. I expect that he’ll remain open to working with you to advance peace in the region.” She gave a lopsided smile. “The good news is the Emperor is fully committed to that policy. And he’s taken a liking to you; you made quite a favourable impression on him in your one-on-one meeting. I think he sees you as someone who will speak directly and frankly, rather than talking in circles, as he likes to say.”

“Flowery words,” pontificated the Chairman, “And obfuscation are the tools of the bourgeoisie; present company excepted. But I am glad that the detente we secured is not at risk. I fear that all our efforts; here in New Excalbia, in Providencia and even in Zamimbia itself have only served to buy us time.”

He sighed. “We are alone, Ashley, so I may speak freely. I do not consider the current outcome to be the result of superior Anahuacan diplomacy or tactics. I do not think Snefaldia pulled back from the brink simply because we were willing to talk terms.” The General Secretary leaned forward, his face deadly serious. “I believe that there was a calculation, on the part of the junta, that they could not compete against the superior forces of the Holy Empire. But that state of affairs is neither certain nor permanent, and the next Zamimbian crisis may produce an altogether less favorable outcome.”

He leaned back. “As for this Zamimbian crisis, you are right. Zamimbia is a young nation and, like all young people, they have to make their own mistakes. If they had wandered into Staalman’s trap,” he shrugged, “Then it will be a beneficial learning experience form them in trying to extricate themselves from it.”

He stood. “With such thorny problems I cannot imagine why you would want to retire,” he laughed. He extended his hand again. “Thank you for coming, Ashley, and if I don’t speak to you again before you return to your country then all the best for the future. This Baron Dainis has some big shoes to fill, but he may rest assured of our continued good wishes for the future.”

[Pantocratoria]

The Excalbian Imperial Chancellor, Lady Ashley Gordon-Robb, drew in several slow, deep breaths, collecting herself as she waited to be shown in to meet her Pantocratorian counterpart.

Sir Isaac Comnenus was unphotogenic by the standards of modern political leaders. A parliamentary veteran for more than three decades, he had long been the right-hand man, but until now had always supported a more charismatic leader, rather than took the mantle of leadership himself. Known as a hardline conservative within the United Christian Front (both in absolute and relative terms), he was a man who by both appearance and reputation seemed unsympathetic in all senses of the word. His hairline had long since receded into baldness, the remaining hair on the sides of his head grey, his bearing was distinctly aristocratic (and indeed, he was descended from those Komnenoi, although not from a Pantocratorian Emperor), his nose patrician, his mouth cruel. When his aides indicated that his Excalbian counterpart was outside, he indicated with a grunt and stood up, which his long-serving staff knew meant that they were to open the door, which they did.

“Lady Ashley,” Sir Isaac said, taking half a step forward to greet her. “Good to meet you.”

“Sir Isaac,” Lady Ashley said with a slight bow, “thank you for seeing me.” While not as photogenic as her Minister of States, Lady Christina Freedman, the Excalbian Imperial Chancellor was fairly tall and looked younger than her 58 years, despite some graying to her hair.

“I’ve just spoken with Prime Minister Foster and I would like to update you about a meeting I had with the Zamimbian Foreign Minister.”

Sir Isaac nodded and gestured to the seats in the room.

“Please, let’s sit down.” he said. “What did the esteemed minister have to say for himself?”

“Thank you, Sir Isaac,” Lady Ashley said as she took the indicated seat. She settled in the seat, then folded her hands in her lap. “The Minister had quite a lot to say, actually. It seems that he and the South Epheronian Minister, together with… Mr. Staalman, took it upon themselves to negotiate a separate agreement.” She cleared her throat. “In brief, Sir, Zamimbia will trade its remaining Boer lands for the so-called tribal areas in South Epheron. I believe, from what he said, that where those territories can be made contiguous, they will; however, it will leave a number of Zamimiban enclaves in South Epheron. South Epheron and Knootoss have agreed to provide road and rail connections and eventually the Zamimbians expect to jointly patrol those routes with the South Epheronians. In the meantime, however, they agreed to invite Knootoss into the international peacekeeping force that we’ve established and place those routes under the peacekeeping force, meaning Knootoss.

“They’ve also agreed that in exchange for South Epheron formally ending Apartheid, those black South Epheronians who won’t qualify for South Epheronian citizenship will become Zamimbian citizens. Supposedly, South Epheron and Knootoss will offer them… incentives to voluntarily... repatriate to Zamimbia. They also agree to some trade concessions that Minister Abiwole believes will help his country develop its shipping and agroindustry sectors.”

“That all sounds very beneficial to Knootoss.” Sir Isaac observed. “One might ask why the Boers cannot be repatriated to Knootoss if the blacks can be repatriated to Zamimbia. I’m concerned this will lead to an exodus of blacks from South Epheron, aren’t you? How many blacks will qualify for citizenship?”

“I am,” Lady Ashley said flatly. “And Minister Abiwole gave me no clear indication of how many black South Epheronians will qualify for citizenship. However, I’m sure the South Epheronians will ensure that the number is minimal. Enough for them to say they did it and really did abolish apartheid, while ensuring that the vast majority of their citizens remain white Boers.”

The Chancellor spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I suspect that Minister Abiwole was overwhelmed by the prospect of being able to claim that Zamimbia succeeded in ending apartheid where the ‘great powers’ could not. And by the prospect of the material assistance he managed to wring out Staalman and the South Epheronians. However, he has succeed in presenting us a bit of a fait accomplis. And if we refuse to accept it, we run the risk of being tarred as meddling imperialists.

“Prime Minister Foster and I believe that our only option is to try to make the best out of the situation. One avenue that we could explore, where we could positively influence how this deal plays out is to insist that the newly minted Zamimbian citizens, both those in the new enclaves and those being repatriated from the urban areas, have a voice in drafting the new Zamimbian constitution by electing their own delegates to a convention to draft that new constitution. In this way, we can at least ensure that these individuals have some say in their futures.”

After drawing a breath, Lady Ashley continued. “On a more positive note, Minister Abiwole has agreed to accept benchmarks for international development assistance - economic reform, the federal system, strong anti-corruption measures, the restructuring of their military and police, and the presence of international peacekeepers. Also, I’ve been told that Snefaldia and Anahuac have come to their own agreement to put aside their competition in Zamimbia and support the agreement. They will both contribute peacekeeping force and to Zamimbia’s development.” She gave a wry smile. “And all they ask is port access in New Hope and Port Freimanis, respectively.”

“These are most surprising developments.” Sir Isaac concluded. “Frankly I’m not sure how to take the news. Without proper modelling I cannot say what the impact would be. I fear this is a monumental act of racially motivated self-harm on the part of the South Epheronians. Without blacks who will work in their mines? What will befall their economy? And how will Zamimbia manage an influx of people and a fragmentary territory, enclaves encircled by South Epheron and the like? And with respect to your proposal to have Zamimbian citizens, including the new ones, vote on their new constitution, surely that would be greatly resented by those who are Zamimbian citizens right now?”

Sir Isaac rubbed his temples and shook his head as he tried to think through the implications.

“I fear that we will have two failed states on our hands at the end of all this just for a few would-be statesmen to have photo-ops… and I am very unimpressed that Staalman did this without consultation.” Sir Isaac admitted. “Do you think we should attempt to derail this deal or stall it, at least until we can determine what the impact will be? Or do you think we should go along with it and make the best we can of it? If we can salvage Zamimbia, then at least if South Epheron fails it will be on the heads of Staalman and his Boer allies.”

Lady Ashley shifted in her seat as she contemplate her counterpart’s questions. “Unfortunately, Sir Isaac, I believe that the only way to derail this… agreement would be to unseat the Zamimbian government. Doing so would leave us vulnerable to criticism of acting as an imperialists and imposing our will on Zamimbia. It would also only serve to alienate Knootoss and isolate it from the rest of the major powers.” She gave a wry smile. “And we’ve learned from hard experience that an alienated Knootoss that feels isolated can be quite dangerous to regional stability.

“Your point about Zamimbia’s existing citizens is well-taken; however, they’ve had so little say in the their government for so long, that - if - we can ensure fair and honest elections for a constitutional assembly, I would hope that they would embrace the new Zamimbia. Of course, it will require a united front on our part and a long-term commitment on the peacekeeping force to ensure the success of the elections and a successful transition. And, if - as you suggest - South Epheron has miscalculated and hampered their own economy, then, they - and Staalman - will bear the responsibility alone.”

[Excalbia]

OOC: Joint post with The Resurgent Dream.

Skralins Imperial Naval Station, Skralins Islands

“It’s good to be working with Excalbians again, sir,” Depardieu said as he shook Pluvitis’s hand. “A lot of my people are veterans of Iesus Christi. Some of us old soldiers of Marlund as well.”

“Thank you, General. It is a pleasure to be working with the Caldans again,” Pluvitis said. “And Iesus Christi was the crucible which forged many of our senior commanders.” He turned slightly and gestured to the officer to his left. “Speaking of which, may I present to you Lieutenant General Patrick Garrison, Imperial Army V Corps. Another Iesian veteran.”

Garrison stepped forward and offered and offered his hand. He was shorter than Pluvitis and thickly muscled. “Good to meet you, General,” he said with a slight smile.

Depardieu shook Garrison’s hand, “A pleasure, General.”

Pluvitis nodded and looked past Garrison to the woman to his left. “And Commodore Alexandra Kent, commander of this naval station.”

“General,” Kent said offering her hand.

“Commodore,” he said.

“Welcome, all of you, to the Skralins Islands,” Pluvitis said, looking towards Kent.

Kent stepped forward. “We’ve prepared quarters and offices for you, if you’d like to time to settle in.” She paused. “We also have a briefing prepared for when you’re ready…”

“I’m ready now,” Depardieu said, glancing to the other officers to see if there was any protest. Lord Lucas looked like he was about to say something but the arched brows of his fellow officers silenced him.

“Very good,” Pluvitis said with an brief, approving smile. “Let’s be about it.”

With a nod from the Admiral, Kent led the delegation of officers across the tarmac to a two-story building that served as the station’s headquarters. In anticipation of the allied officers’ arrival, the Caldan, Lanerian, Kasakian, Gantaran and Finaran flags had joined the Excablian flag and the four-star flag signifying Admiral Pluvitis’ presence. Once inside the building, the officers were shown to what appeared to be a stand-issue Excalbian military conference room. Subdued lighting emphasized the glow from the LED displays built into the table and screens arrayed on the walls. Where the wall was visible it was covered with thick material and the door of the room was well-padded metal.

Small name plates helped the officers find their assigned places. Admiral Pluvitis sat at one end of the oval table, with General Garrett to his right and Commodore Kent to his left. General Depardieu sat at the other end of the table. Once everyone had taken their place, an Excablian colonel in fatigues similar to General Garrett’s stood and approached a screen along the wall at the midpoint of the table.

“Good afternoon,” the officer began. “I’m Colonel Frank Pilmanis, V Corps G3.” A map of Zamimbia appeared on the screen. “The first operational issue we’d like to discuss is our mission objective.” A series of bullet points appeared superimposed over the map, which faded slightly. “First, we are to secure Zamimbian territory to prevent any invasion or incursion during the planned retraining and reconstitution of Zamimbian armed forces. Second, we are to supplement civilian security forces to protect lives and property, and maintain order and stability. Third, we are to secure Zamimbian military assets as their military formations are dissolved.” He looked at Admiral Pluvitis.

“We’ve been told that Excalbia will be sending trainers to undertake the training of a new Zamimbian army and that our government will be requesting training assets from your governments as part of the on-going conference in New Excalbia.”

Pilmanis nodded and continued. “Before I call on G2 for an intelligence briefing, I’d like to move on to a discussion of the deployment of our various units.” The map was divided into four zones. Two along the coast and two in the interior, divide roughly between north and south. “We’ve designated the southwestern region bordering Snefaldia and South Epheron as Zone One. The northern coastal area has been designated Zone Two. The northwestern region bordering Snefaldia is Zone Three, and the southern coast is Zone Four.

“We propose that General Depardieu as second-in-command take charge of Zones One and Two deploying the First Division, other allied forces and Excalbian Marines from 2nd Fleet to cover these areas.” He turned and looked at a female Imperial Army officer seated at the table. “And General Ozolina would take command of Zones Three and Four, deploying the 85th and 105th divisions in those areas. The 45th armoured division would be deployed at the regimental level to support the other units, as needed.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Depardieu said as he heard the briefing. “The 1st Division contains two armour regiments as elements of mechanised brigade groups in which they have trained. Barring outside intervention, I believe that should meet the armour needs of Zone One. A regiment from the 45th armoured division might prove valuable in Zone Two, depending upon the exact composition of the other allied forces to be deployed there.”

“I would ask if there are any particular plans, at this stage, for sea-based elements?” Lord Lucas inquired.

“Yes,” Pilmanis said, “we will be using naval units to relieve Zamimbian naval units in patrolling their territorial waters; in securing safe passage for our forces; and in interdicting any attempts by outside parties to enter Zamimbian territory, whether they be outside military forces or smugglers. In addition, we’ll be counting on naval forces to supplement and support the peacekeeping force’s air units and to provide troops in the form of 2nd Fleet’s embarked Marine units. However, we are not expecting any direct naval engagements at this point.” He glanced at another officer seated at the table. “But I believe my G2 colleague will be discussing that point during his briefing.”

Pilmanis paused for a moment, then after there were no more questions, he nodded and took his seat. Another colonel stood and took his place in front of the map. “Good afternoon. I am Colonel Thomas Richmond, the chief of the G2 for V Corps.” The colonel stood at parade rest, with his arms behind his back.”The situation in Zamimbia is quite fluid and likely to evolve significantly as a result of the conference currently underway. However, this is our understanding of the situation on the ground at the moment. Much of our information comes from our Ajuban allies.

“Zamimbia is riven by ethnic division and, to a lesser extent, social-economic divisions.” The map of Zamimbia reappeared on the screen behind the Richmond and on the screens in front of each officer at the table. On the map the different ethnic areas appeared in different colors: the northern coast and adjacent inland areas were labeled as Nalu majority regions; the interior area east and north of the Nalu area was labeled as majority Sakotoan/Muslim; the interior areas south of the Muslim area was noted as being the Buta homeland; a small area south of the Buta area along the borders of the so-called South West Epheron Republic was labeled as majority Boer; a narrow sliver west of the Boer area was labeled majority Excalbia; and the southern coast was a hash of mixed-up colours denoting a mix of Nalu, and Jahrians and Hansa descended from Ajuban immigrants. “Historically, the Buta have tended to leftist politics; they were largely behind the communist government of the 1970s and the socialist government of the 1990s. Their greatest opposition has come from the Nalu, who were behind the movements that overthrew both the Buta-led leftist governments. The last Nalu-led government was that of President Bongani and Field Marshal Mabuza was overthrown by current President Joseph Duna, who installed the current National Unity Council. In that last crisis, South Epheron took advantage of the chaos in Zamimbia to invade the country’s Southwestern Province and seize the majority of its Boer-majority territory. It is this territory that forms the current South West Epheron Republic, which is not universally recognized.

“Civil unrest in the rump Boer province over a redistribution of educational resources initiated the current crisis. The situation worsened with the assassination of Foreign Minister Tulika Nkosi, the most senior Nalu in the current government, and Public Safety Minister Mohammed Gambo, the most senior Sakotoan in the government. There is wide speculation of foreign involvement in these assassinations; however, we cannot confirm any such involvement. That said, the Ajubans have credible reports that Nkosi was meeting with the Snefaldian Ambassador. Similarly, the Ajubans have noted frequent meetings between Education Minister Abarran Mbala, the most senior Buta in the current government, and the Anahuacan Ambassador. Mbala has recently aligned himself with both the Buta National Congress and the Buta-led Zamimbian People’s Party, making him the de facto leader of the Buta faction.

“Complicating the situation is the fact that President Duna has been largely incommunicado in recent weeks. We believe that he may be ill. Field Marshal Amupanda appears to be acting as Duna’s proxy. To accomplish our mission, then, we will need to maintain the cooperation of both Amupanda and Mbala…”

Richmond interrupted his presentation as a junior officer entered the conference room and handed him a note. The Colonel looked at Pluvitis, who had received his own note from another officer. Pluvitis laid his note on the table and looked across the table at Depardieu.

“Well,” Pluvitis began, “to Colonel Richmond’s point about the situation changing: we’ve just been informed by our Chancellor’s staff in New Excalbia that the Zamimbians and the South Epheronians have made a deal to… exchange Zamimbia’s Boer territory for the so-called tribal areas in South Epheron. So, the Boer territory now moves beyond the scope of our mission, while it now expands to include several new Zamimbian enclaves in South Epheron. In addition, it seems that the Snefaldians, Anahuacans and Knootians will be joining our forces, with the Snefadians deploying to New Hope, the Anahuacans to Port Freimanis and the Knootians patrolling the routes between Zamimbia and its new enclaves in South Epheron.” Pluvitis frowned. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

“That certainly does change things,” Depardieu noted dryly. “Anahuacans and Snefaldians on the same side. Then he cracked a small smile. “It does give the multinational force a stronger region-wide mandate, certainly.”

“Indeed,” Pluvitis said.

[Zamimbia]

Restaurante El Trapiche, La Providencia, Providencia y San Andrés

“I’m not sure that your government would be pleased with you seeing me, Tariq,” Charity Amupanda said with a smile as she took a long, slow bite of the chocolate cake on her fork.

“I don’t consult the State Ministry on my choice of… friends,” Lord Tariq of Mezciems said with smile.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Tariq was about to answer when Amupanda held up a hand. “Sorry, Tariq,” she said, I need to take a call. Business.”

“Of course,” Tariq said coming to his feet as Amupanda began to rise from her chair.

The tall, athletic woman in a striking pale beige dress smiled at her dinner companion and walked towards the door of the restaurant. She stepped out onto the patio and sat on a bench, slipping into her native Nalu.

As she finished her call and slid her phone back into her small clutch, Amupanda started to stand, only to stop as she came face-to-face with an even taller woman with blonde hair pulled into a severe bun.

“I’m sorry,” Amupanda said, sounding a more than a little perturbed, “can I help you, Ms…?”

“Yes, Ms. Amupanda,” the woman said flatly, “you can be of assistance.”

continued here: viewtopic.php?f=4&t=445933&p=34897619#p34897619

[Aerion]

International Conference Centre, New Excalbia

The major asks the Grand Empire had made in diplomatic notes was the protection of its mining interests in Zamimbia, the least barriers to the movement of labor and conduciveness for labor mobility possible, and open markets.

The care for these proceedings and what happened to Zamimbia or her people was otherwise expressed by who the Grand Empire of Aerion first dispatched. The Imperial Government of Aerion had dispatched the Chief Commissioner for External Affairs of the Viceroyalty of Zprezunia Feran Kartea. Not the Viceroy of Zrepzunia nor any Deputy Minister for Foreign Affairs nor one of HIM's Ambassadors-at-Large. Foran Kartea was a relatively handsome Epheronian-Aerionian man though, and was likely the better representative to this conference as he could lay some claim to roots in Epheron. He had mostly remained silent though as his handlers were not directly present. He had been dispatched to the first round proceedings for a rather trivial reason considering the importance of the matters at hand. Her Imperial Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs was indisposed in a typical Aerionian fashion. It was the Padshah Empress’s birthday week celebrations, and no one was allowed to miss certain rituals or observances associated with it.

This was an entire week of somewhat coerced festivities in Aerion. Tens of thousands of officials, dignitaries, and nobility from across the Grand Empire had joined thousands of courtiers in Imperial City for the festivities. Hundreds of thousands of paid staff and functionaries had flooded into Imperial City as well. Not to mention press, the public, and others though celebrations took place throughout the Grand Empire. The sometimes grotesque excess and opulence of the Imperial Aerionian Court was on display. Lavish feasts for thousands, pomp, balls, processions, parties, rituals, and extravaganza. There were even fashion shows put forth in honor of the Padshah Empress by several Aerionian fashion designers and international designers.

The streets of the Imperial City and hotels would have taken on the atmosphere of Carnaval or Mardi Gras as the public joined in beyond the walls of the Imperial District with wild drunkenness and even orgies in private parties as well as temples of the ancient Aerionian religion. It was a drunken orgy in more ways than one. Even many of the second tier parties in the capital made Jay Gatsby’s parties look like backroom public college keg parties. Foreign delegations to the Grand Empire were probably reporting back on the balls they were invited to if they were even reporting back at all had they not become drunk by the alcohol or intoxicated by the festivities themselves . Millions of gallons of alcohol were likely consumed not to mention the millions of pounds of food. The festivities would be considered excessive to a courtier from Versailles if one had time traveled to Imperial City and witnessed them. Enough food to provide basic sustenance for every Zamimbians for a year including that which was wasted was probably consumed in a week.

HIM’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, Marquise Charaj Aniasalvers arrived late to the proceedings after having attended one last brunch. She had actually just stepped off the plane and rushed to the proceedings wearing what she had worn in Imperial City. Her shiny black high heels clicked on the floor. Even this ordinarily stoic woman had been caught up in the festivities and the energy in the capital. She was a dignified woman in her sixties from a noble Eastern Aerionian Persianate family. Her hair was in a bun. Her eyes indicated she was hungover. She appeared in full court dress in a lavish dress reminscient of black and green swan feathers that wrapped around her. She wore extravagant diamond and emerald earrings with a necklace that sparkled in the light. The jewelry she was wearing was worth millions, and could probably buy a major town in Zamimbia. It was likely tone deaf for an Epheronian conference but represented how out of touch the courtiers in the capital of the Grand Empire of Aerion were from Epheron; it’s own common people and even the rest of the world.

She had been briefed of the proceedings so far on her digital tablet by the staff already there, and as she approached the table toward the tail end of the proceedings to the likely chagrin of the other delegates just before the break Feran Kartea had simply stood, notably bowed, and took his place in the second row of chairs.