The Least Worst System (CLOSED)

[New Edom]

Nass, New Edom

“Gentlemen, as we discuss the future of FODE, we find that we...the Kingdom and Empire...are heir to a vast fortune in oil and resources,” said Count Sharra pleasantly. He was slowly pacing a room in which sat a number of men and women, on easy chairs, chaise-longues or couches. Various potted plants flanked the walls and there was a general air of brightness and freshness though it was shaded somewhat by folding bamboo blinds from Hostillia patterned with subtle paintings of cranes and flowers. Indeed, the very room itself was a room that spoke of tribute or loot--plants from South Ceti, rugs from Kehrahn, furniture from Dengali in dark ebony with barbaric carved men holding the weight of the planks.

“However, as we examine this future, we also must look to Foreign interaction and development in order to be able to assess the markets that are available.” Sharra continued. He was a greying haired man, once athletic, with proud features and a grave deep voice that gave him an orator’s manner. “As you all know, our policy is to maintain a reasonable pricing plan for trade that will not alienate trading partners while at the same time providing the maximum profits possible to ourselves, our fellow FODE members and to the nations that we market our goods to.”

“All this speechifying aside,” said Count Lalery brusquely, pushing aside a glass of Imperium scotch. “What we are here to talk about is this: do we foresee any likelihood of Adiran experiments in alternate energy, alternate fuels in the near or far future?”

“Yes, that’s an interesting element,” said Hosidius Geta, who glanced up from a sketchpad where he was drawing caricatures of the other members of the Energy and Economics Council. “As far as our analysts can ctell, the reception of the latest Green manifesto in Adiran political circles means no. Is the technology available? Maybe. It has never been tested on a large scale, even a regional one within their country. The use of wind, wave, solar and other alternate systems…” he scratched his head and yawned, “Well, Dr. Khalkimedes and Dr. Ashren published some reports as our scholars interpret them, so a lot of techie flim flam, but importantly, at best these systems provide some resiliency to drastic changes. But providing a general network is not possible. Nearly everything that is made today requires general systems that only fuel can provide.”

“Why their obsession with this climate stuff then?” demanded Lalery.

“It appears to be a power grab. It can’t be real,” said Geta firmly. “I was talking with Johnny the other day, and we agree that it is a power play, to control energies for themselves and act as a block to FODE. It’s rather ingenious really--have an extreme political group to offer a threat. Better the SDP or Liberals than the dreadful Greens.” he and the others chuckled a bit.

Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain was nearly reclining no one of the couches, wearing a white shirt, slacks and leather loafers. He glanced around the room, and said little but listened much.

Count Lalery stretched and said, “Sharra: do you have a recommendation then for how we should deal with pricing within FODE?”

Sharra stood and spread his hands. “I believe that we should encourage a price lowering. For a time. Even a discussion of it will keep either of the two main parties happy in Adiron. We certainly can control a bloc of the voting within FODE: the Imperium, Urdnotia, Kehrahn, and Shrailleen will doubtless follow our lead. The rest of Deadora will be forced to follow or be isolated and collapse even further. And it will further indicate to other trading partners, the Ayacans, the northerners and so on, that we are reasonable. And…” he added with his eyes glittering, “That we are in control.”

“How will we deal with this then?” asked Prince Enoch.

“I should like to propose that we leak this through various means to different governments in private meetings,” suggested Geta. “Let’s not get all official yet. Let’s start by encouraging our FODE partners and persuade them as to the wisdom of our plan. And we should all find our way to approach our best contacts….you for example are respected in private circles in Adiron. Let’s all pick one, and, as it were, pour out a little goat’s milk and see which cats lap at it.”

“You know, I’m due for a holiday,” said Prince Enoch, which was received with friendly laughter.

---

Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain spent the rest of his day in phone calls and smaller meetings, some of which were being conducted while he took a train back to Fineberg. Most of these involved the Royal Household, receiving reports and making brief executive decisions or comments. He also received confirmations from Geta about his encouragement to ambassadors to significant nations, and from Sharra and his officials and junior ministers about the projections and reports for oil and resources.

“I will be visiting Adiron on an unofficial visit,” he wrote to Ober, “And if we had occasion to meet, I should be most grateful to do so. Perhaps we will have an opportunity to see how well you are doing with the present the King gave you. If there are any matters you or your colleagues would care to share with me, I would also be pleased with that.” He let Ober know about his schedule and delegated the duty of organizing security and diplomatic arrangements to officials within the Foreign Ministry.

Once he had arrived home, he spoke very pleasantly with his wife, Princess Desiree, who was on her way back to Gavinium Magnus. He spoke for the better part of the afternoon with her on how the King and Queen (and the Council) saw the issues going on there and the policies being conducted. Generally, they agreed that it needed to be guided still by the aftermath of the war and its concerns. Princess Desiree expressed her acceptance of the policies recommended by General Beanajah and John Carmel (who were respectively the Military Advisor and Economic Advisor).

Finally, it was nearly evening and he went to the pied a terre where Jess McKay, his lovely mistress, lived. It appeared to be a beautiful condominium and in fact was a place where, unbeknownst to her, people who were significant but watched carefully by the Ministry of Police lived.

Jess McKay worked at Thorco, for an Adiran oil company that worked somewhat harmoniously with the National Oil Corporation. So he made sure that they were catered to on a regular basis, in this case a simple but pleasant meal of sesame chicken, tabouleh and rice and glazed banana and mango for dessert.

“I have been thinking of taking a vacation to Adiron,” he said with a smile. “If the idea doesn’t bore you, I’d enjoy it if you joined me. Perhaps the Chorus Atoll, perhaps somewhere where we can do some skiing, who knows?” in point of fact, if Enoch could avoid going to New Laconia, he would. The idea of visiting the prosaic capital with its dull bureaucrats and solemn legislators gave him a slight belly ache. “Of course if you’re too busy or find the idea of visiting Adiron dull, then I quite understand.”

[Hittanryan]

Foxfire Country Club
Puerto Rojas

Tom Alvarado’s vote for ACTA created friction with Art Lemmon’s union. Not long after the vote, the Adiran Labor Alliance released a statement on its website reaffirming its commitment to Adiran workers—all Adiran workers—in the face of globalization pressures. One section’s meaning could hardly be misinterpreted: ‘Many politicians, even those who are otherwise our allies, tend to take the side of big capital and the C-suite when it comes to globalization. The Alliance will continue to look out for its members’ interests and always be there to remind those in government what is truly at stake: the workers who are the backbone of this nation.’

This was coordinated with a phone campaign. MA offices, mostly Social Democrats, received at least a dozen phone calls a day for a week. Staffers felt remiss not to report it up the chain of command, and inevitably the Members themselves heard about it.

Most MAs ended up on the phone with a lobbyist. Tom ended up on a golf course with the union’s President on the weekend. It was a pleasant sunny day on the fairway, or in Tom’s case in the rough. The tee was only maybe a hundred yards back and Tom’s ball was quite a bit right of center. Tom raised his club and then swung down with all his might. He quickly looked for his shot but the sun was in his eyes. He squinted and tried to shield his eyes. No sign of it still. Resigning himself to another search in the woods, he happened to look down and his face fell. His ball was right where it was at his feet, except now it was sitting in the middle of a trench-like divot.

Tammy was laughing at him from not far off. “You think you swung hard enough?” Art was standing nearby with a bag on his back.

“Apparently not,” Tom said blandly as he lined up another shot.

“Just don’t bend my brother’s clubs, all right? That counted as a stroke, by the way,” Tammy reminded him.

This time his swing had an even tempo, and the ball went a more respectable distance, at least 100 yards, maybe 150, longer than his drive. It also veered right about halfway through its flight path. Tom had anticipated this, having established something of a pattern, and aimed far left of center. Nevertheless his shot still ended up in the rough near the woods again.

They moved forward another fifty yards until they got to Tammy’s drive. She approached and took a few practice swings, hips twisting with the iron. “Art, I get it. People have gotten screwed by trade deals before. Cheap imports, outsourced jobs, all of it,” Tom said quietly.

Art nodded towards Tammy, who Tom realized was looking at him. Weren’t supposed to talk during someone else’s swing. He waited for her to take her shot, which went about as far as his but went right up the middle.

“Well, Tom, that report on jobs…it stinks,” Art said as they walked off.

“Come on, Art, you’re not going Blufordite on me, are you?” Tom asked.

“No, Tom, I’m just thinking of the numbers. A hundred thousand?” he said sternly. “We need a plan to offset that. Talk to your circle about it. Get us some assurances, Tom. Otherwise hell, we could just vote for Saito.”

“Here’s what’s got me stumped though: you guys are tradesmen. People don’t call a plumber in Chaco for a house call in Puerto Rojas,” Tom tried to joke.

Art didn’t laugh. Instead he shrugged and said “Solidarity, Tom.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you guys working?” Tammy called over accusingly.

“Maybe,” Tom replied. She gave him an annoyed look.

“Maybe try working on your swing?” Tammy chided him. “I mean, phew, how long have we been out here?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Art, you got a baseball bat in your bag? Could get more distance that way.”

“Sorry, Tom…not a bad idea though,” Art said as he approached his drive. He took two practice swings, and he seemed to be swinging for the fences. Unlike Tom, however, his shot sailed almost to the green.

“I swung that hard and it didn’t go anywhere,” Tom remarked.

“Keep your head down and eye on the ball until you hit it,” Art reminded him with a pat on the shoulder. “Or you won’t.”

They made their way up the fairway, with Tom managing to connect a halfway decent shot that still left him about twenty yards off the green. Tammy was on the other side of the fairway. “What was that about solidarity?” Tom asked while she was preoccupied.

“Hmm? Oh, you know. First they came for the socialists…”

Tom looked at him blankly as he set his bag down and pulled out a wedge.

Art continued. “And I didn’t speak out, I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unions…”

“Oh, that one,” Tom said as he walked up to the ball. “Slippery slope. It’s not like that, Art.” He walked up to the ball, taking a look at how the green broke. If he chipped it on the front left section of the green it would roll towards the flag near the center. Taking aim, he took a half swing and failed to get any loft on the ball whatsoever. It shot across the green at knee-height, bounced off a tree with a thwack sound, and then landed against all odds on the right edge of the green, leaving him with about an eighty foot putt uphill.

“Tom, you’ve got no touch,” Tammy said.

Tom grinned. As he walked across the green, he started to sing “I ain’t asking for much, I said Lord take me downtown, I’m just looking for some touch.”

Tammy looked at him like he was insane. Art chuckled and shook his head. Tom decided to keep working the song lyrics into conversation for the remaining holes.

Upon returning to his office in the evening, Tom was not encouraged by Wendt’s letter any more than his golf game. He sank into his chair, puzzling it all out with a pit in his stomach and a bottle on the table. At times he just sat and stared at the paper. Questions swirled in his mind, getting fuzzier as the hour wore on.

’What right do I have to be angry?

How could she?

I did worse, I profited from it.

Is this the end? I don’t know. It might be.

How do I answer her?

I did this.

How do I explain myself?

What have I done?

I've abandoned my child.

I did this.

Tom didn’t remember much after that. He woke up at dawn with a mouth lined with felt and a pounding in his temple that kept him popping Aspirin the rest of the day.

To: “S.W.”
From: “T.A.” (Address is a Puerto Rojas PO box)
Subject: None
Encryption: Handwritten letter passed through General Orozco, military attaché at the Adiran embassy in Fineberg

I am disappointed, I’d be lying if I said otherwise, but you are not defiled in my eyes. I am hardly in a position to judge as I have to confess as well. My present attachment exists because I was weak. I didn’t realize until we parted that you were putting on a brave face. In our time apart I came to believe you could not forgive me. Your first letter was a shock. Meanwhile, in one moment of weakness I started a meaningless little distraction. We were found out and it went further than I think either of us ever intended. I was a fool, I’ve betrayed your trust, I doubted you, and I’ve given you every indication that I’ve abandoned you. I can only apologize and ask your forgiveness.

I don’t know if you can bring yourself to trust me again, but I do know that I owe it to you to make things right if I’m in any way capable of doing so. I won’t be weak again. I am preparing right now for whatever consequences may follow. Circumstances at present seem favorable to retain my current position regardless. Even if I do not, I could never leave you in the lurch. As it stands you have already lost and risked far more than I ever did.

If I were thinking only of myself, I would ask that you come here permanently, and we commit fully to a life together. Damn the consequences to me, I’ll manage one way or the other. I am confident you could put your skills and intelligence to work in any number of careers if you wanted to. I would try to make things right with your family if at all possible. I wish I could elaborate further.

That’s what would make me happy, but it asks nothing of me and asks you to make a terrible sacrifice which you alluded to in your previous letter. You are right to think of your own commitments. I am sure I would be happy with you, but could you be happy with me? I don’t even know everything you’d be walking away from.

I know we’re from very different places. Maybe I’m talking complete nonsense and none of this makes sense to you. Maybe I still don’t understand what this will cost you, just like how this all started. If this really can’t work, if you’re sure we can’t be together without ruining you and thereby spoiling what we had, then I will accept that even though I will miss you greatly.

If you have another way, I would gladly hear it. I’m not a sophisticated man when it comes to this kind of thing. God knows I’ve made a mess of it already and I can’t think of another way to make it right.

T.

[Hittanryan]

Ober’s staff replied to the Foreign Ministry people promptly. They mostly had questions about travel arrangements, who would accompany Enoch, how long he’d be staying, what sort of press coverage—if any—he’d prefer, and working out any official courtesies to be extended. Ober was ready to assume Enoch would just get a hotel room in New Laconia and they’d have the same kind of blunt meeting they did before, but his staff thankfully intervened. Instead Ober wrote “I think a weekend meeting at the Oxbow retreat would be suitable and comfortable for all of us. Mr. Martin and Mr. Feng have both expressed interest. Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss?”

Meanwhile on the other side of the Tempesta, Jess McKay had settled in more as Thorco’s liaison to National Petroleum. Her network by now included Prince Enoch’s connected friends and acquaintances like Simon Daniels and Caleb Ahitophel. If Thorco needed something from the NPC, she usually knew exactly who to call. If she didn’t, a pretty smile and a bit of charming conversation tended to get her in the right direction. On the Adiran side of things, she wrote and called government regulators, civil servants, and even the occasional MA.

By all standards she was doing well for herself, living in a condo that would cost a small fortune back in Adiron. Her closet was full for the first time in her adult life. She had a collection of fine jewelry, the finer pieces of which were courtesy of her lover, but she made enough to go shopping for herself. Her schedule was always rather flexible, more often than not she was communicating by phone and email, which she could do from anywhere with a smartphone. That left plenty of time for a morning workout of jogging or swimming plus her skincare and beauty regimen.

Every once in a while, she found herself staring into the mirror or at a picture of herself from a particularly decadent party. That’s who she was now. Was that all she’d ever be? Would she be anything without Enoch?

She kept those thoughts buried. Life was good with him. As they were wrapping up dinner he mentioned a trip to Adiron.

“Oh, of course,” she said, eyes lighting up. She had a silky dark blue dress on that flattered her figure and neckline. “I haven’t been to Chorus since I was little, I’d love to go again, but you know, I’ve never been to Silver Mountain. It’ll probably be a bit like in Ghant where we first met.” She smiled at him.

“Either-or is good. Do you just want a vacay or do you have some business too?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.

[Arbites]

Chambers of the Curia
Magus Civitas

One man made his way forward from the gallery, steps echoing on the marble floor. He was Cardinal Cadman, the patron of the Order Publicans and the treasury. Cadman looked ancient, with drooping jowls, wrinkles all over, and a plodding pace. It seemed to take him some effort to draw himself up to full height. When he spoke, somehow, he managed to project to the entire chamber. “Brothers, esteemed Guardians, what I am about to address, I have spoken to many of you already. Now, it is my duty to see it entered into the official record. I shall speak plainly. The first of the bonds issued by the Order Publicans to finance our last great noble effort against the Adirans will start to mature in two years. This will represent a significant added expenditure on the part of the treasury. I propose that the Curia deliberate on and enact a suitable fiscal policy to provide for this additional expense within one month from today.”

Most of the Cardinals nodded their silent assent. Cadman looked to Cardinal Dawes, who rose unsteadily and asked “Can I assume this body approves the motion?” No one spoke. “The motion is passed.”

This was more or less typical of how the Curia approved legislation and policy. Motions were passed by unanimous consent. No one demurred on the floor. Virtually all of the actual drafting of policy, including resolving any disagreements and hashing out details, was done in private.

This motion was different in one subtle but key way from most, however: it didn’t actually enact policy, it set a deadline to do so. The dueling factions within the Curia had been unable to reconcile themselves. By setting a deadline and entering the matter into the official record, Cadman and the rest of the Old Guard instead hoped to pressure their rivals.

---

Cadman Estate
Mercia, Imperium of Arbites Materia

At the highest level, the deliberations were mostly academic. The “ifs,” not the “hows” or “whens.” Cardinal Sullivan met with Cadman the day after he addressed the Curia at his villa, a fully restored country house with a large safari park. The interior was opulent, with many fine rugs, antique furniture, and a full staff of housekeepers to tend to Cadman and his entire family. Sullivan was a tall man in his late fifties, with a prominent nose, somewhat sunken eyes, and wrinkles across his face.

“Your Grace, I know that you and I both have friends who have their disagreements on this. It grieves me so to see this august body sniping and scheming,”

“Indeed, Brother, indeed,” Cadman said, setting down his teacup. “And yet, here we are. What would you prefer, dear Brother Sullivan?”

“Unanimity, of course. A ship can hardly set two courses at once,” he said.

“Just so, Brother, but today you saw the Curia is unanimous in its desire to see the issue resolved within the month. Our colleagues will have to come to an understanding,” he pronounced.

“Yes, Your Grace. I wonder if, mired in the weeds as we are, we are not perhaps not seeing the trees or the forest. I wonder if we have not considered all the options,” Sullivan said. “One question swirls in my mind, disturbs my prayers, and I have raised it among my colleagues: is it truly necessary that these bonds be paid now?”

“I’m afraid so, brother,” Cadman said, giving him a quizzical look. “To do otherwise is to disregard the most basic financial laws and practices. This is instrumental for essential commerce to take place.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me, Your Grace. Of course they will be paid upon maturity, that is not in question,” Sullivan said, raising a hand. “Bonds as I understand it can be renewed. The institutions which purchased these bonds did so out of patriotic duty and to take advantage of an investment opportunity. Surely, if their faith remains true, they will listen to an appeal on our part.”

“You have answered your own question, brother,” Cadman said, creakily perching himself up higher in his chair. “The institutions you speak of purchased bonds because they believed it to be a good investment opportunity. They believed that following our ultimate victory, the Imperium and Ceti would know peace and prosperity unknown on this continent since before the Great War. They believed it to be a safe investment, they believed our government to be stable and solvent and capable of paying them back. They believed that wartime measures would come to an end and our interventions in the economy would be temporary. They expected their yields. If we so much as ask them to reconsider, we suggest to them inadvertently that we cannot make good on our debts.”

“Your Grace, you are of course correct. We must avoid panic or even the hint of it,” Sullivan said. Cadman looked contented at this, but Sullivan then continued. “However, you did touch on one point: this was a wartime measure. Are we truly at peace? Is there no more need for the Army, the Navy, the Inquisition?”

“Of course there is, even in the event that a treaty with the heretics is possible. What is a nation that cannot defend itself? Nothing. By extension a nation that has existing defenses but cannot afford them is nothing. We must retain the trust of our creditors,” Cadman said sternly, before gesturing towards the window and adding “Look to Lucian the Mad’s example, brother.”

“Must I, Your Grace?” Sullivan asked with an arch smile.

“Look to his example and beware,” Cadman clarified, in no mood for jokes.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Sullivan said, nodding and then pausing. “However, none of this suggests it is impossible to induce or incentivize renewal of war bonds, even if we ought to avoid compelling it. It is only by the grace of the Emperor and the diligence of His servants that they didn’t lose their shirts to the Adirans long ago. I’m not even suggesting that they renew all of their bonds, just enough to ease our burden. In my view that is the least they can do for the Imperium.”

“It is just too heavy-handed, brother. They would never buy another bond. It would destroy our credit,” Cadman said, looking at Sullivan. “Brother, you have been patron to the Inquisition, had a chance to see some of their methods. Managing the treasury requires the same degree of subtlety. We cannot simply ask them, we would have to make renewal an attractive investment, which would mean, say, higher yields. This only delays and compounds our debt problem.”

“Your Grace,” Sullivan said, his expression having hardened slightly. “Today you entered this issue into the official record. It is therefore our sacred duty to see it completed. Here I have come to you with a proposal agreeable to me and my friends. What would you have us do instead?”

Cadman inhaled. “We should pursue the strategy which raised us up from privation and squalor. We must restore our manufacturing exports and secure foreign investment. An influx of capital.”

“But Your Grace that is what…” Sullivan said before biting his tongue. “This export strategy has long relied on the liberal nations, these decadent finance capitals. The likes of Adiron and Novitera. The last export boom relied on them, and although there was prosperity they also decided to take advantage of us, decided they were entitled to buy out our industries and restrict technology transfer. Now Adiron is our enemy and Novitera is divesting to build its own custom-tailored personal trade bloc. I urge you to pray upon this, Your Grace.”

“And so I shall, brother,” Cadman said stoicly. “And I hope you will convey my position to your friends.”

“I…yes, Your Grace,” Sullivan replied flatly. The meeting was over and Sullivan had nothing to show for it.

[New Edom]

Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain fetched Jess a slap on her shapely buttocks, just hard enough to sting but not really hurt. “That’s for calling it a vacay,” he said lightly. “I will of course work somewhat, yes. No workee, no money, as the Hostillians say.”

After whatever squawking or pretended outrage she had and his amusement, he studied her thoughtfully. “You are happy, are you not darling? I’m quite happy with you, you bring me much joy, but I hope you would tell me. Naturally I’d hardly toss you out on your knees, we would work something out, but while it would grieve me, I would rather know than not know, if you follow.”

He did his best to make sure there was room for her happiness as well as his. He had learned how to manage such things from Hesperinus and others--give the woman a chance to make female friends that you secretly vette, give her a long enough leash that she thinks she’s making her own choices, be generous but not foolishly so, and make sure she’s inherently good natured and pleasing. Jess was an added delicious risk to his life, like having a beautiful racehorse but risking it in racing, he knew that she was a target for intrigues and enmity and while he did his best to keep her safe he knew every night was a risk.

By now, Jess knew some of his demons too. The murder of his father was public knowledge anyway, and the awareness that he and Elijah had exactly the same sort of relationship that his father and King Mark had had haunted him. His devotion Elijah and Mara he revealed, but kept his private devotion to Mara a secret. He did not reveal his suspicion and loathing for Jocasta but he took care to make sure that Jess stayed out of the notice of Jocasta and the Dowager.

Riotous evenings and afternoons with John Ashdod, Lalery, Falk, Daniels, and others of his inner circle not uncommon. They were less political than fun. She would probably know these men more for Ashdod’s party trick of pretending to smoke through his ears, Lalery’s ribald jokes and tales, Falk’s jovial drunkeness and his pretty wife Cloris’ friendliness and sense of fashion, Daniels’ mistress and Ashdod’s.

[Arbites]

Harding Residence
Outskirts of Bangor

Where the Cardinals discussed the bigger picture of the budget, civil servants were left to discuss the details. The first of such meetings took place at the summer residence of Charles Harding, the Imperial Treasurer. It was an older coastal manor a white exterior and dark shutters. One of the dining rooms was being prepared to receive guests. It had windows with a view of the rocky shore and the Tempesta. Crystal glasses and clean ashtrays were being placed on the solid hardwood dining table. Another long serving table was up against the exterior wall. There were namecards at each chair.

Charles Harding, Imperial Treasurer

Benjamin Allen, Private Secretary to the Treasurer

Patrick Caldwell, Order Publicans Secretary for Domestic Finance

General Philip Castor, Army General Staff

Admiral Walter Harrington, Admiralty Naval Staff

General William Stone, Air Force General Staff

Frederick Langford, Inquisition Office for Internal Affairs

Dark-vested footmen entered the room, pulling in a serving trolley. They began to transfer platters of food to the long table. One of the platters had fresh sole stuffed with crab and shrimp all topped with shredded cheese and light lemon and butter. On another plate was sliced tender roast pork loin. Another had sautéed scallops. At the center was a large bowl with a mixed green salad. There was a basket of hot sourdough rolls with a butter dish to one side. The servants appeared anxious, with the senior one pointing things out to be corrected. One was standing by with a wine bottle.

The servants all looked to the door and stood at the ready as they heard polite chatter approaching. First in the room was an affable suited man in his mid forties, who looked at the buffet and called back “Mr. Harding, you spoil us all.”

“Think nothing of it, Mr. Langford. Please, everyone, help yourselves. I’d recommend the seafood, it’s all very fresh as always here,” Harding replied. Harding was in his sixties, wore a dark blue suit, his white hair in a conservative part.

There were three military officers in tow: a husky Army general, a thin, dour-looking admiral, and an Air Force general who appeared wizened beyond his years. Two more suited individuals went in as well, one in his fifties had no chin and a widow’s peak, the other was younger, had thick spectacles and a mostly bald head. The former was Caldwell, the latter was Allen, who spoke with the servants before sitting down next to Harding.

As the guests sat with their plates, the footmen moved to fill their glasses. Once situated, the servants all left the room with a nod from Allen. Harding opened the meeting. “Now that we’re all comfortable, I think it’s time we began. You each represent your departments. I represent the Cardinal.

At this point Allen whispered something to Harding. “Ah, yes. Gentlemen, this is Ben Allen, in case you did not meet him on arrival. He has something to say.”

Allen had a nasally sort of voice. “Given the sensitive nature of the information to be discussed, gentlemen, I ask that any notes taken be left with me when this meeting concludes. It is vital that any information pertaining state finance, as always, remains closely guarded.” There were nods around the table.

Harding glanced around and said “No question about that, naturally? Good. Now as I’m sure you know this problem did not begin with His Grace’s motion on the floor today. These are ten year bonds. No one can say we lacked ample warning, and yet the day approaches without a clear direction from either the Curia or His Holiness’ Civil Service. We operate without consensus and this has tormented us. His Grace, Cardinal Cadman, has commanded that our offices resolve this within the month. He speaks with the authority of the Emperor and we must do our duty.”

“Now, the Treasury has a number of opinions on possible avenues forward. Mr. Caldwell here represents one body of opinion," Harding said, ceding the table to him.

“Thank you, Excellency," Caldwell said, drawing himself up in his chair. "Please understand, gentlemen, that I am wholly devoted to my duty with the Treasury. Anything I say here is solely in the interest of keeping Imperial finances in order. Now, if I might speak plainly, the military budget is simply out of hand. Why we could cut every parochial school, every pension, and every hospital and it wouldn’t add up to the maintenance costs of our tank fleet,” he said. The officers looked taken aback. “We are not advancing anything abroad, either, everything is tied up on the border.”

“For good reason!” Castor blurted out.

Admiral Harrington however asked “So what are you suggesting?”

Caldwell explained “This peace agreement represents an opportunity. Look, the Army is spending sixty billion a year on procurement alone in peacetime. Peacetime! Meanwhile we couldn’t spare a denarius for South Ceti. It is embarrassing that we let the administration there lapse into corruption and criminality. It is embarrassing that we had to rely on foreign aid to continue its development. Meanwhile, the Navy hasn’t even shown the flag in South Ceti in at least a year.”

Harrington thumped the table. Castor shot him a murderous look as he gripped his pen tightly.

“If we don’t need Army Group West fully mobilized on the border, then that frees up funding to pay down this debt and even embark on new projects,”

“Ah, new projects,” Castor said, seemingly with great restraint. “Such as? The six hundred ship navy which has eluded us since the nineties? Tell me, Admiral, what good will the Navy do us when the Adirans are two thousand miles from the nearest coastline? When they have not so much as approached the Adiran EEZ in ten years of war?”

Harrington looked at Castor with hatred, shaking his head. “You…”

“And we are grateful for the Navy’s courage and sacrifice nonetheless,” Castor added quickly, “but I am stating the facts. The Army is the Imperium’s first line of defense.”

“And we are the Army’s first line of defense,” Stone suddenly piped up. “Without the Air Force Army Group West could be annihilated in a matter of hours. We might do even more, had we the required funding for modernization.”

Harding then slapped the table. “Gentlemen! This is precisely why we are at an impasse! You should be ashamed of yourselves. Are you servants of the Emperor or bickering fishmongers?!”

Castor, however, was defiant. “I serve the Emperor in all things, sir. That is exactly why I must resist these outrageous suggestions. The heretics are on the border now. Their navy is defending their coast, down in Eos, or stretched out in Ghant and Wenbo. They are on the border now, standing ready to destroy all we hold dear. If anything we need more funding.”

Caldwell sputtered and coughed on his drink. “More?!”

“Yes, Mr…what was your name again?” Castor asked derisively. “I don’t know if you have set foot on an army base, let alone a battlefield, but let us dispense for a moment with the media’s talk about faith being the shield of every soldier. Despite all efforts to stamp it out, our soldiers have dubbed our armored vehicles MCs, Metal Coffins.”

“Really? I heard that stood for Mobile Crematorium,” Stone quipped.

“You expect infantry to have that kind of vocabulary?” Castor replied incredulously with a raised eyebrow. Stone shrugged. “At any rate, we don’t need cuts, we need modernization. The Edomites have better weapon systems than we do and they purchased it all on the open market. If we were to make those kinds of improvements to Army Group West, we would sweep the field clean.”

“Except we’re looking to save money, not spend more,” Harrington interjected. “We could never rely wholly on foreign purchases in wartime, we would need domestic production rights,” he said, before pointing to Harding. “Excellency, you’ll wish we had built a six hundred ship navy.”

“I don’t know, I would second General Castor’s idea about modernization, only perhaps instead you should wish for air superiority,” Stone said. The other two officers both shot him a look. “If we could contest the skies on even terms, the Army could practically ride into New Laconia on horseback.”

“You are not here to lobby for funding. I remind you that Cardinal Cadman has given us our mandate,” Harding practically scolded them.

“As Cardinal Robertson has given us ours,” General replied.

At that point Langford spread his hands. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, we seem to be getting overheated, a poor start to any meeting. Let us be calm. Perhaps, Excellency, we should take a moment?” He looked to Harding with a placid smile.

“Perhaps a brief moment of prayer would be helpful, and please continue with the food as well,” Harding offered.

The table had a quiet moment. Castor took a few more items for his plate. Caldwell sat with his head lowered. Stone asked for his glass to be refilled.

It was Langford who resumed the discussion. “Now, I think I speak for all of us when I say that none here shall neglect the defense of the Imperium. Nothing is more important. That said, I personally doubt that it is impossible to find redundancy or waste in the entire Order of His Sword, and perhaps that is an avenue we might take. That alone won’t be sufficient though, so we must explore other approaches, perhaps less orthodox.”

“Such as?” Harding asked.

“Well, one of the problems with the military budget is procurement, but that’s hardly the military’s fault, is it?” General Castor nodded and he loosened up a bit. “Consider: our strategic resources were developed at the treasury’s expense. Excellency, in this time of fiscal stress, the Treasury should renegotiate contracts.”

Harding simply listened, but Caldwell’s pen froze. “By ‘renegotiate’ do you mean not pay them?” the junior official asked.

“Please, Excellency, we’ve already paid. Do you think Haywood would have built a pipeline through the jungle without government labor and subsidy? And what about Overhauser? We paid to rebuild their steel mills after the bombing. Paid, not loaned, paid, because they are military essential. I’m not saying be unfair about it, just start bargaining.”

Caldwell was adamant. “Industry still has operating costs, and they have long-term projections relying on government contracts. They’ll have to make cuts, which means even higher unemployment, shortages of goods, less tax revenue. It’s practically self-correcting. No, we will not do this.”

“Hmm, then I suppose you will have to raise taxes,” Langford mused.

Caldwell looked puzzled. “Raise sales tax with so many out of work? Mr. Langford, with due respect…”

“No, no, not sales tax," Langford interjected.

“Then I don’t understand. Tariffs? We’ll face retaliation, we can’t risk our exports. Property taxes will have the same effect as sales tax,” Caldwell retorted.

“No, no, Excellencies. A new tax. Income tax,” Langford said.

The rest of the table stared at him. Harding’s eyes were searching, seemingly perplexed. Caldwell’s mouth hung open. “What did you say?”

“A tax on income,” he explained as though he was a frustrated schoolteacher.

“I don’t know what made you think of that, but it is the same problem. Less money in everyone’s pockets,” Harding pointed out with an outstretched hand.

“Well it wouldn’t apply to everyone,” Langford explained. “Is it not written that the righteous shall give of himself to God? Was it not the prophet Nicholas who said that temptation often comes in the form of gold? I am sure Mr. Haywood, Mr. Peabody, and our other esteemed captains of industry will understand that this is a matter of national urgency. They have profited mightily and will continue to do so.”

“Redistribution,” Caldwell growled, clenching his teeth. “So we’re emulating the Adirans now? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Well, the Adirans have funded their wars, haven’t they?”

“And they’re a decadent leftist cesspit where so-called men can only make a decent living shuffling others’ money around. I won’t listen to this communist claptrap any further,”Caldwell scoffed.

He found that Langford was staring at him coldly. “Communist?” Langford hissed.

Caldwell opened his mouth to speak, but Langford cut him off. “Let me make something clear, Excellency. Private property is necessary to the development of the nation’s creativity in the best interest of the faithful. Private property is necessary to further the continuous attachment to a certain work, which in turn provides for the family. It is of course the family which is a fundamental unit of our society.”

“Naturally,” Caldwell tried to reply. “And a fundamental economic truth held by the Imperium, one which communists are too blind to see, is that wholesale appropriation and nationalization is a fool’s errand. Let private industry set its own long term goals and manage their own affairs, free from outside intervention, and that is how they will be most productive. Then by their productivity the state will also prosper.”

“That is not in question here. However, when that has been inadequate to the needs of the nation, we have incentivized private industry to make changes,” Langford said firmly.

“But the state does not run the economy or steal the earnings of the successful, either by ‘renegotiation’ or through punitive taxation on success,” Caldwell continued to argue.

“Of course not, but we intervene. Subsidy, international trade policy, taxation, guaranteed minimum sales, and yes the sale of the bonds which currently vex us, we encourage private industry to support the national interest,” Langford listed off on his fingers. “And in doing so we already pick winners and losers.”

“Why is that a problem? It is in the national interest for our industry to be productive and efficient,” Caldwell countered.

“Of course, but this is still to the detriment of the entrepreneur, the yeoman, the tradesman. As it stands, could any small oil producer just starting out hope to compete with Haywood with its freight discounts and state support? Will the small manufacturer who benefits his community ever enjoy the same benefits we bestow upon drug-addled Noviterans? Is that the future for the Arbiter? Subservience to titans and foreigners? How can man in these circumstances be upstanding, independent, and moral as we all strive for?”

“I’d heard you’d gone to seminary. I’m inclined to believe it,” Stone quipped as he lit a cigar.

“I simply do not understand the objection being raised. General, does the Army just throw money at the arms sector and hope they deliver on schedule?”

“No,” Castor answered.

“No, the government negotiates quotas, minimum standards, and prices—with penalties for failure. My point, gentlemen, is that we should be able to rely on those companies with whom we already have close partnerships. If they receive state support, they ought to support the state.”

The table appeared divided. Caldwell seemed to be ignoring him. Castor and Stone seemed receptive. Allen was taking notes.

[Hittanryan]

1 Sierra
New Laconia

Howard Saito wasn’t smiling, but he was still managing his normal confidence and upright posture as he spoke at a podium in front of an audience in business dress. “The Liberal Party belongs to all Adirans who value opportunity, free markets, and honest work,” he was saying. “It has been my great honor to serve you all these years. I would like to thank everyone who made my leadership possible and who worked so hard to advance our agenda. Most of all, I want to congratulate my friend Max Fisher, the new leader of the Liberal Party and—I can only hope—the next President of this great Republic. Let’s all welcome him, shall we?”

Stepping aside from the podium, Saito met Fisher with a handshake and a smile. Extended applause broke out. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank all of you for your confidence and support, and I would like to thank Howard Saito for all his great service to this party.”

Applause broke out once again. “Now, in the wake of this election, I want to take this opportunity to say again what Adiron means to me. I believe that Adiron is a land of opportunity. I believe every Adiran today has the tools and skills to succeed with some work. I believe that is why people from across the globe dream of living here…”

Rowan, Ober, Snyder, and Cruise were watching from Rowan’s office at 1 Sierra. Rowan was at his desk, Ober standing at his side with his arms folded. Cruise was leaning forward in his chair, steadily munching on a cheese Danish. Snyder was standing with the remote., turned the volume down, and said “That’s that then. No last second votes or caucuses. Clean transition of power. Fisher’s in.”

Cruise clapped and said “Perfect.”

Snyder started and frowned. “Perfect how? Better the devil you know I say, and Saito was inflexible enough for us to run around him.”

“Good riddance I say,” Cruise scoffed, shaking his head. “Saito never worked with us on jack. Fisher though, he’s been helpful already.”

Rowan interjected. “I know Max, he’s a committed Liberal. What does this really mean? Dale?” He looked to Ober.

Ober narrowed his eyes at the screen a moment. “Mr. President…I don’t know why we’d celebrate just yet. Best I can tell they both want the same policies, they’re just squabbling over the leadership position.”

“As I said, Max is a committed Liberal,” Rowan said.

Cruise determinedly swallowed and said “I say that’s a good thing, Mr. President. He’s such a committed Liberal that he’ll put policy over partisanship. Saito just wanted your office.”

“What, and Fisher doesn’t?” Snyder remarked.

“He’s got nothing to his name. He just got in,” Cruise shot back, taking another bite of pastry.

Rowan held up a hand and said “Alan why don’t you just spit it out?” Cruise stopped chewing and looked a bit dejectedly at the pastry. Rowan elaborated “I mean speak plainly. What do you want us to do?”

“Join the CTO.”

“Wait, what?” Snyder and Ober asked at the same time. Snyder’s eyes were widened and her eyes darted back and forth between the other two men.

Cruise had a gleam in his eye. “Come on, he talked about it in damn near every speech. He already voted with us on one trade agreement—in defiance of his party leader, in fact he took down that party leader,” Cruise said, gesturing at Fisher. “The guy would sacrifice his firstborn to get in.”

Rowan’s brow was furrowed. “Alan, why this? Why now?”

“Was talking to Guy and Kevin. The way we all figure it, we need some insurance in case this whole peace deal goes ti…south,” Cruise said, catching himself.

Snyder was looking at him quizzically and blurted out “Wait, Cruise, uh, sorry, Mr. President, if I may, since when are you talking to those two about the CTO?”

“Because if the deal blows up and we’re not ready for it, guess who’s getting the blame?” Cruise asked, pointing a chubby finger at Rowan. “The public’s gotta see we’re doing something about this. Maybe it’ll give the Imps second thoughts, maybe it’ll help us win the war, but we gotta do something and this is on the table now.”

“So what you really want is an alliance, but the CTO is not a military alliance,” Rowan pointed out.

“No, it isn’t, but it brings their members closer,” Cruise said, finishing off the danish and brushing crumbs and frosting from his fingers. “Look, when Lucian f…slapped the CTO in the face, the Chacanos and Noviterans were coordinating probably within minutes of it happening. There’s a Noviteran naval base in Chaco. I think they do joint training unless I’m thinking of someone else. Point is, it’s in their members’ interests to look out for each other. I mean what else do Noviterans care about but trade?”

“Gambling. Coke. Hookers,” Ober started to list off rather casually until Rowan caught his eye.

Rowan held up a hand. “All right, Alan, you’ve got an idea. But the last vote on a trade agreement didn’t exactly go smoothly.”

“Exactly, we’re in a bad place with the left, Mr. President, and not just the Greens,” Snyder said, looking at Cruise. “It’s one thing to just talk about joining the CTO here in private, but Mr. President, you’re exposed as soon as you put pen to paper to get people actually working on it. Something as big as this? Committees could ask for your communications at any time. Not only that, this is State’s job. Something at some point would have to go right to Bailey’s office. We can assume she takes it straight to her people as soon as she gets it.”

“Come on, Dana, between us and the Libs we could lose upward of a hundred sixty members and still pass it, not even counting the minors,” Cruise pointed out.

“Let her finish,” Ober admonished Cruise. Rowan was looking at him as well.

“And fracture our party in the process,” Snyder continued. “Look, we all know this is a non starter for Bluford and Bailey. As far as they and their people are concerned free trade is code for union busting. They split the party on ACTA, we do this we could lose them entirely. It’s too big a gamble, we can’t join the CTO now.”

“And I do know where Al is coming from,” Rowan interjected, the three of them turning to listen. “He’s been in office since the nineties and in many ways he’s still there, but he’s right to be at least a little wary of reckless free trade. He’s thinking about what happened with the Imperium. In that case a bad actor was deliberately manipulating its trade, labor, and financial policy to Adiron’s disadvantage. Now this is different, but if joining the CTO means gutting our manufacturing sector, hollowing out the middle class, and doing serious damage to the nation’s finances then, quite frankly Alan, I’m not for it. Max Fisher and Howard Saito might be willing to pay that price but I’m not.”

“It is different though, Mr. President,” Cruise urged him, somewhat laboriously getting himself to his feet and approaching his desk. “We’re not talking about the Imps. We’re talking Novitera, Chaco, Tericio, they’re already trade partners.”

Rowan looked thoughtful. “That’s true…”

Snyder jumped back in. “Compliance with the CTO’s terms could require an extensive rewrite of Adiran trade policy, Mr. President. ACTA was bilateral, we could and did go back and forth with Yanque. The CTO’s terms have already been agreed to by all its members. Not gonna be much give on their end so all the work is on us. That means every committee looking at every clause in the CTO terms and having to decide what policies and laws need to be amended or repealed to comply.”

Rowan started massaging his temples. “Yes, another good point, Dana.”

Cruise looked appalled. “What, are we just gonna let these hippies run the country? Are we gonna give up before we even start? Mr. President, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“All right, all right,” Rowan snapped, putting both of his hands up. The two advisors both stopped in their tracks. “You’ve both given me a lot to consider. I need to think, if you’ll all excuse me for a moment.”

Ober said “I’ll be outside. Why don’t you two wait in the den?” and beckoned for the advisors to leave. They nodded, exited the room, and walked down the hall in silence until they reached the door. Snyder looked around behind them, closed the door, then wheeled on Cruise. “What the fuck are you doing? All that sugar rot your brain on top of your teeth?”

Cruise pointed at her. “Hey vinegar tits you should be thanking me! I’m saving both our jobs.”

Snyder walked up and got in his face. “Like hell! You’ll split the party! Pendergast’s just waiting to pounce.”

“Come on, Eddings is fucking gone and you know it,” Cruise said. He put up a hand and Snyder recoiled, thinking he might be about to touch her arm. Cruise continued all the while. “He’s listening to schmucks who don’t know how anything works, don’t have jobs, and think crystals can cure chickenpox. We’ll keep working with Cowles and the sane Greens.”

“Yeah, only one problem: there’s no majority there!”

“Okay, what’s your plan for Fisher, huh?” Cruise prodded her. Snyder shook her head and rolled her eyes. “What? Nothing? Come on, Dana, we can’t just sit around with our thumbs up our asses. Fisher will come in, the breath of fresh air, while the boss is stuck herding cats. Next general election we’ll be fucked unless we get a notch in our belt.”

“So you want to make sure the next general election is next week instead of next year? Plus you’re gonna give Fisher a notch of his own right away?”

“Won’t be his win if we—“

The door abruptly opened and Ober stuck his head inside. “Hey, put a pin in it,” he said while jerking his thumb in the general direction of Rowan’s office.

On the office TV Fisher had just finished his speech and the screen transitioned to some talking heads engaging in their usual speculation. Rowan addressed them, seemingly standing at attention with his back to the window. “Alan I think you might be underestimating just how risky this is. We may be estranged from Eddings but we cannot simply abandon the left wing of our own party. I entered into a bargain with Al. I can’t break it. Dana is correct that we also cannot do this in secrecy, it’s impossible for something this big. In fact I suspect this is precisely why Al wanted State.”

“But…but sir!” Cruise stammered.

“But at the same time, the CTO could be the way forward for the Republic. I want to emphasize could. We don’t know nearly enough. You said you talked to Guy and Kevin about it though?” Snyder’s eyes slowly widened.

“Yeah, I did. They could tell you more than I could,” Cruise said, nodding emphatically. “Look, Mr. President, I’m suggesting this because allies could help us end the war. Guy said the Imps aren’t even showing the flag in Arcologia anymore. They’re desperate for economic concessions and they even stopped their own war dead in its tracks. No one knows what’s really going on in Serrice, but I do know we should put ourselves in the best position possible.”

Snyder stepped forward. “Hold on, Mr. President, are you sure this is even the best deal for Adiron?”

“No, I’m not, Dana. However, I realized that if this government doesn’t join, the next Liberal government certainly will. It’s inevitable. Right now, I need to know more,” Rowan said firmly.

“And that’s the problem. You would need to commission studies, reports, inquiries. It would all come back on you. If the left thinks you’re trying to join the CTO under the table—“

“Yes, you’re right,” Rowan said, stopping her with a hand. “They’ve been keeping a close eye on things since Gavinium.”

Cruise stepped ahead of Snyder. “So we don’t do the studies through State.” He glanced around the room. “We get the Assembly to do it in committee.”

Rowan nodded sagely. “That might work…”

“Wait, you’re still considering it?” Snyder asked Rowan incredulously. “Sir, you would still need to get the committee moving, and someone will still have to reach out to foreign governments.”

Rowan paused, tightened his lips, and he absentmindedly started to twist and tug at his beard, searching for an answer. Cruise’s eyes searched, then lit up. He exclaimed “I’ve got it. I’ve got it. This is it!”

“Yes?” Rowan asked.

“And I can’t believe I’m saying this: Treasury,” Cruise said, spreading his hands and letting it hang there.

Snyder finally couldn’t help herself. “Are you nuts? He’ll sell us out! All his buddies have been picking fights with the left!”

Cruise was grinning. “Yeah, we need to treat the left with kid gloves, but the only way he could sink any lower with them is if he defected to the Libs.”

“Cruise, you never trusted Pendergast,” Ober chimed in.

“Still don’t, but the guy’s practically a neoliberal and he’s always looking for attention. He’ll want this. Treasury sets things up with the committee and State. We keep our distance and if it gets found out, it’s on Pendergast,” Cruise explained.

“That’s going to take a bit of finesse,” Rowan said, looking out the window for a long moment. “...but it might work.”

“No, George…” Snyder muttered, almost begging him.

“Dana,” Rowan said, looking at her sharply. “If we do join the CTO the two largest capitalist economies in Cornellia will be together in a trade bloc spanning much of Cornellia. That is too large of a market for any nation to disregard casually. And I do share concerns about the apparent halt in the peace process. Right now we have no flexibility in our most important area of diplomacy. If we can manage this and if the CTO is all it seems, then this is a worthwhile endeavor. We ought to at least learn as much as we can for now. I’m worried about the same things you are. I promise I won’t let it go too far.”

“I…yes, Mr. President,” Snyder said, looking dejected. The group discussed how they might communicate with Pendergast discreetly, which committee would be best suited to doing a study, and at what point to pull the plug on the whole thing. Snyder was quieter than normal, nodding more and saying less. As she left the office she sighed loudly and shook her head, her shoes making loud clomps on the hardwood floor. She was surprised, however, when Ober caught her eye and nodded.

[Hittanryan]

National Assembly Office Building
New Laconia

Max Fisher’s office was a flurry of staffer activity. One was moving files from a half-emptied filing cabinet into cardboard boxes stacked up. Another was carrying a fairly large framed landscape painting out the door. A third was wrapping a statuette in bubble wrap. Still more were moving to and fro each carrying stacks of books. Assemblyman Kevin Urrutia nearly ran into one as he walked in.

“You got that all right?” Urrutia asked the rather scrawny man carrying a stack of hefty legal texts.

“Oh I’m fine, Mr. Urrutia,” the younger man said—with a bit of strain in his voice.

Urrutia approached Fisher’s secretary, a reasonably attractive blonde woman who had most of the contents of her desk in boxes on the floor beside it. “Moving up and out, eh Gloria? How’s it going?”

“Day two, Mr. Urrutia. You’re in luck though, he’s back,” Gloria said with a somewhat weary smile.

“Great,” Urrutia said. Just as he went to walk in, Larry Tsai came straight through the door, sidestepping past a staffer carrying a box, not saying anything, and not breaking stride as they both entered Fisher’s office simultaneously.

Fisher’s office was half empty and half in boxes, but his desk and chairs were still there. He was reading a paper, looked up at both of them with a nod, and stood to shake both their hands. Just then another staffer walked in and approached a large cardboard box.

“Thanks Olly, could you give us a few moments? And let everyone else know?” Fisher asked the younger man.

“Oh, of course sir,” the man said before struggling a bit with the bulk.

“Lift with the knees, Olly,” Urrutia joked. The staffer attempted a strained smile. Tsai shut the door behind Olly as he left.

“Before all these smartphones we had to carry our books everywhere. We were in better shape,” Urrutia commented, gesturing after him.

“Didn’t do my back any good,” Fisher replied. “So, apologies for all the hustle and bustle, but it sounds like we might have something interesting. Let’s hear it.”

“Well, I think you met Warren, my chief of staff?” Urrutia asked.

“Yes?”

“He got cornered in the restroom by an old college buddy of his, Cole Morris, who is currently Secretary Pendergast’s Executive Secretary. They were at PRSU together,” Urrutia explained.

“And they talked about more than how the Orcas are doing this year?” Tsai remarked.

“Apparently so. Morris said the Secretary was privately thrilled with how the ACTA vote went. He apparently said Adiron needs better trade policy and it should be a ‘no-brainer, bipartisan consensus.’ Apparently the Secretary’s words,” Urrutia explained. “Now that could be all hearsay, but we do know Pendergast was publicly in favor of ACTA and of free trade in general.”

Fisher nodded and asked Tsai “And Larry, I heard vaguely about what happened over in Finance. Something came up in the Shuffle Report hearings?”

“Didn’t think anything of it at the time. Thought it was the usual grandstanding from Moore. Started out that way, blaming the companies instead of ever considering that our taxes are outrageous. Then he starts talking about you,” Tsai said, gesturing towards Fisher. “Talking about how you campaigned on joining the CTO. He says ‘If this is the new Opposition Leader’s platform, then I challenge him to produce evidence that this won’t lead to similar abuses on a massive scale.’”

“I didn’t think anything of it. Typical rhetoric, you know, maybe a little off topic but it happens in these hearings sometimes. When we’re leaving though, he comes up to me in the foyer and actually follows up on it. He says ‘Larry, I was serious. Does Max know what he’s getting into?’ I told him I was no expert myself but the AEI has at least one current report that shows the supposed dangers are probably overblown—and it would help if our domestic policy wasn’t so damn punitive. He pushes back on that but he asked about that report. I said I had a copy, and we got a call today. He sent someone down to pick it up.”

“And I have a congratulations letter on my desk from the President,” Fisher said. “The operative portion being ‘Although we do hold different views on policy, it is my sincerest hope that we can reach common ground when it comes to the security of the Republic. There are some matters so grave that we should respond to them not as Liberals or Social Democrats, but as Adirans.’ End quote.”

The three men looked at each other. Fisher then asked “So taken all together, what are we to make of this?”

Urrutia replied “We ran against Howard’s blind partisanship. He’s taking us at our word—or calling our bluff, however he might see it.”

Tsai cleared his throat loudly. “Ah, let’s not be too hasty. Rowan likes to play the moderate but remember who’s in his Cabinet.”

Fisher said “Well, let’s start on what we all can agree on: we want lower tariffs and greater access to foreign markets. No question on that?”

“Absolutely,” Urrutia said.

“Of course,” Tsai said at the same time.

“Good. So this is—potentially—an opportunity,” Fisher said, looking to each of them.

“Right,” Urrutia responded.

Tsai’s brow furrowed a little. “Sure. Certainly not our only option though.”

“No,” Fisher said, shaking his head, “so we have to consider: what does this mean?”

“Well Max, I’m not sure this means a whole lot, not yet anyway,” Tsai answered immediately. “We’ve yet to hear from Rowan’s people directly on trade. Pendergast could be acting on his own, which means Rowan isn’t prepared to take on Bluford and Bailey’s ‘revolution,’” he said with utter contempt, “or might have no interest in this in the first place.”

“Come on Larry, let’s do more than speculate,” Urrutia said, putting a hand on his arm. Tsai glanced at his hand without expression. “Let’s at least start with the evidence in front of us. Rowan’s sending signals. If we do take them at face value, Max, this was a campaign promise. You ran on passing bills Adiron needs, doing what Howard wouldn’t.”

Fisher said “That depends on the bill of course. We don’t know exactly what Rowan wants. It could be the CTO, more bilateral treaties. I hope it is. It might also be more tariffs and regulations in disguise. That’s not what I promised.”

“Just for the sake of argument, though, Max,” Urrutia implored him.

“Right, right,” Fisher said, nodding.

Tsai had a bemused smile and chuckled slightly. “But that’s my argument. We don’t know what he’ll send us. All of a sudden he’s for free trade?” he asked with a skeptical frown. “I know we all voted for ACTA but really Howard’s people had a point on policy. To get it by the left they had to water it down. They had to please the unions, the Greens, the academics. They haggled over this or that subsidy instead of just ending them. There was all this hand-wringing over labor dispute mediation. There’s even a few conditions under which tariffs can be reimposed on select goods. Is that all we have to look forward to?”

“It was an improvement over the status quo. A necessary if imperfect one,” Fisher contended. “Howard’s problem, though, was that he never negotiated with Rowan about it. Not in good faith, anyway. Instead of figuring out how to profit by the bill’s passage, he wanted it to fail no matter what…well, we all remember.” There were nods of agreement.

“But at the same time we can’t just give away a win to Rowan. Last I checked we are the Opposition. I want to go fishing, and we have to set our line,” Tsai said. “Let’s tell Pendergast we’re interested but there’s no point in negotiating with him if the President will just override him. We ask for assurances from Rowan himself—or better yet a public statement. Once we get that, we’ll have him. We can expose him any time we want, assuming Bailey or Bluford don’t find out on their own.”

At this Urrutia started to say “But…” but Tsai talked right over him. “This way we get him to commit, the hippies will disown him, and he’ll have to rely on us. Then we can bring the whole house of cards down in next year’s budget.”

With a sufficient pause, Urrutia now added “Except then we could lose the CTO.”

“No we won’t,” Tsai said with barely a glance at Urrutia.

“Sure we could,” Urrutia said, stepping forward. Fisher was now watching both of them. “If Rowan thinks we’ll double cross him he’ll call it off long before we ever get the goods on him. Or Pendergast is acting on his own. We don’t know what will happen to him if we expose him too soon. If he’s the mastermind and Rowan cans him, what then?”

“Kevin, you’re missing the point. It doesn’t matter what happens to Rowan or Pendergast if we’re in government next year. We can join the CTO then,” Tsai asserted. He appeared confused that he was being questioned at all on this.

“Larry, come on. I know you’re excited but you’re forgetting someone,” Urrutia said. When Tsai didn’t reply, he simply said “Ed Fletcher.”

Tsai waved a hand irritably. “We won’t need Growth. The SDP will be in complete disarray for the election. We’ll have a majority with between us, the Libertarians, and centrists like Pendergast.”

“You’re sure of that?” Urrutia said, raising an eyebrow. “With no legislative accomplishments to our name? Fletcher’s twelve Assemblymen could be our whole majority. We could get in and still not have the votes.”

“All right, fine, Kevin, you don’t like my idea. I haven’t heard you come up with something better,” Tsai replied sharply.

Fisher then interjected. “All right, look, I’ve got enough to do here with the transition. I’ve got five minutes until I need to leave to meet with the APA. Can you two maybe continue this debate on your own time and just give me some options?”

Tsai pursed his lips but Urrutia conceded “Agree to disagree, Larry?” Tsai nodded curtly.

“There, now, Kevin, do you have a plan of your own?” Fisher asked, looking at him.

“Of course. Let’s keep our campaign promise,” Urrutia said, spreading his hands. “Let’s get things done. If Rowan wants to help us, so much the better. We’ll have our own terms he’ll have to agree to on every vote. Every compromise bill we pass will alienate him from the left and add to our scorecard for a general election. Then we’ll get that majority you were talking about, Larry.”

“Very good. I’ll consider what you’ve said and get back to you tonight,” Fisher said, picking up a metal thermos and a short stack of folders, then ushering both of them out the door as he left. Outside Fisher’s office, Urrutia went to say something to Tsai but he walked off towards the elevator.

Later that night, Fisher’s two supporters were both at their respective homes relaxing after dinner when they received a three-way conference call from Fisher. They each barely heard him say hello or mention that the rest of the day had gone well as they waited for his reply on strategy.

“Gentlemen, I’ve made my decision. Kevin, yours is Plan A,” Fisher opened. “Let’s find out what they want and if it’s good, try to get it passed on our terms. Even if Pendergast is acting on his own, we might help him take the party leadership and sideline the left entirely. Then we can work with him if and when we win the next election. A smaller, centrist SDP with the left finally relegated to the fringe. Think of what that would mean for Adiron, gentlemen. Think of the opportunities.”

Tsai was shaking his head with a grimace. Urrutia was smiling when he said “My thoughts exactly, Max.”

“Larry, you’re Plan B,” Fisher continued. “To be frank, he clearly expects it. If it’s Rowan behind this, look at how he’s presented this, how cagey he’s being. We don’t want to give the ending away too early as Kevin said. Your plan will be our fallback in case the negotiations go poorly or it’s all some kind of trick.”

“But Max, we’re really just going to give him what he wants?” Tsai asked incredulously.

“No, we’re going to get what we want,” Fisher retorted. “Larry, I was ranking member on Foreign Relations. The CTO came up a number of times. I can tell you that Adiron cannot join the CTO without changes to domestic law. If this is an honest proposal, Rowan has to give us what we’ve wanted all along. Deregulation. Privatization. Lower tariffs. Getting rid of subsidies and quotas. And those are our terms for our support.”

Tsai’s expression softened. The smile fell from Urrutia’s face. “Wait, won’t that spook him?”

“Rowan needs us, and we need to know if he’s serious,” Fisher explained. “Larry’s right not to simply trust our political opponents. That’s how I want to play it. You’ll back me on that?”

Fisher’s allies replied in the affirmative, and Fisher’s desired message would ultimately make its way back to Pendergast.

[Arbites]

Serrice Cathedral of the Emergence
Magus Civitas

The last light had left the skies over the Arbiter capital several hours ago. The early spring night still felt like winter. Snow blanketed yards and although the roads and sidewalks were clean—if wet—brown dirty slush lined the edges of most side streets. The clouds above glowed under the city lights. There were no obvious nightlife crowds, only cold-looking people in coats trudging along. Another shanty town had been cobbled together just outside the city despite the last one having been demolished. Ragged, tired, hungry looking people gathered around weak fires, wrapped in whatever ratty blankets or coats they had managed to get their hands on. Shivering parents held miserable looking children close.

Visible from the slums several miles away was the Cathedral of the Emergence. Illuminated at all times, the cathedral’s ornate Gothic spires reached up towards the heavens. A richly decorated rose window was just above the main entrance, and a large rectangular fountain with a statue of a Saint Clement sat at its foot. Its grounds were sparse yet pristine—and fortified. A high iron perimeter fence ringed the entire property, and it was patrolled by armed guards in long winter coats. The only way in was guarded by a checkpoint, and several dark vehicles had just pulled up. A guard finished checking their identification, handed it back to the driver with a nod, opened the gate and waved them through.

The vehicles pulled up to the richly-decorated main portal and ten figures emerged from the vehicles, most of them wearing military uniforms. Receiving salutes from the guards, they moved inside with purpose. Inside, this cathedral was clearly different. Although the vaulted ceiling towered above them the actual nave and aisles were smaller than the size of the building suggested. Although the church couldn’t fit many people, the pulpit and altar were richly ornamented with scenes of saints and iconography, and the altar was a full story high. The group made their way to the back of the altar in short time.

There they reached another door with two more guards and a captain. From the group entering, an Army captain stepped forward and explained “His Grace wishes to pray at the Chantry.”

“Of course, Captain. We received word from the Imperial Guard,” he said with a nod to one of the men at his side. “Will you be needing anything Your Grace, or will it be the same as usual?”

“The same. It’s getting late, an hour will be sufficient,” replied Cardinal Sullivan with a light smile.

The guards opened the door and they entered a corridor. At the end of the corridor was another altar even more ornate than the last.

As the door closed behind them, however, one of the group stopped. He was a man in his forties in a similar frock coat to the soldiers but no military uniform. He wore round glasses and sported a conservative part in his hair. “Your Grace, a moment if you will.”

Sullivan stopped and said “Speak, Inquisitor.”

“There can be no turning back after this…this has never been done before,” the man cautioned him.

“Inquisitor Ortega,” Sullivan replied sternly. “The church has reached a state of crisis never witnessed since the founding of this nation. Even as the fires of war reached our soil, even in our darkest moments, the Curia was able to reach consensus. Now while the faithful languish the Curia is paralyzed. The Imperium will be as a pauper. We cannot continue like this.”

“I heartily agree, Your Grace. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I have arranged everything, but this…what if it invites His wrath? You are blessed but still a mortal man. I confess I fear for you,” Ortega said warily.

“My soul is prepared,” Sullivan said resolutely. “Should it be determined that I have sinned in my actions, I shall be cast down and rightly so. But I do not fear it. I serve Him in all things. He will see my faith and my heart are pure. He will know that whatever I do, I do for Him and the Imperium. He sees all and has therefore seen the looming crisis, and His word shall restore harmony to the Curia for none may doubt Him. This crisis of faction will end; He will set our course directly.”

“Let none doubt your piety or courage, Your Grace,” Ortega said, showing none of the doubt from a few mere seconds ago. “By His will, then, let this be done.”

The altar was adorned almost entirely in gold. Effigies of saints and angels alike adorned the two story-tall structure. At its apex was a mural of a regal figure casting down shrouded, writhing forms with a sword. There was no pulpit, but there appeared to be a door in the center. There were two sergeants in full dress uniform standing next to it who both saluted.

Sullivan stopped, knelt before the altar, said a lengthy prayer, and then approached the door.

The guards noticed immediately, glanced at each other, and as Sullivan reached the steps leading up, they both presented arms. One spoke clearly and forcefully. “In the name of the Immortal God Emperor of Man, halt. These are our most hallowed grounds, and even you, Your Grace, have not yet been given leave to approach the Emperor's throne.”

Ortega called out “Soldiers, I am High Inquisitor Ortega. The Officer of the Watch knows what this is about.”

“Sirs, we were not told of this. We must report this,” the sergeant informed him.

“You must do your duty of course, and the Officer of the Watch knows our business,” Ortega replied casually.

The sergeant who spoke looked at the other warily, then went off to one side where a phone was tucked behind a pillar. He kept turning to watch the group as he dialed and spoke. With a few nods, the sergeant returned to his post and muttered “From the lightning and the tempest, Our Emperor deliver us…you may enter, Your Grace.”

Ortega turned to Sullivan and said “I am unworthy to go further. I shall pray for your success.”

Sullivan nodded, walked up the steps, and opened the heavy gilded door. They could hear him begin to descend stone or concrete steps until the door shut. Ortega did as he said and knelt in prayer, and bid the men with him do the same.

It was nearly an hour later when suddenly the doors creaked open, pausing a moment in the process. Castor and the others muttered a silent prayer and cast their eyes downward. When they looked up, they saw Sullivan uneasily plodding forward. His face was twisted in apparent torment, his eyes were searching side to side. As he cleared the doorway he stumbled and started to fall.

“Your Grace!” Ortega exclaimed, rushing forward and catching him. He beckoned to the guards. “Don’t just stand there! Fetch help!”

“No!” Sullivan whispered hoarsely. “No one else.”

“But Your Grace, are you all right?”

“No, Inquisitor, far from it,” he said, voice cracking, “I need a moment.” He sat down on the floor, his vestments gathering up all around him, their grandeur gone suddenly.

“Was it too much Your Grace?”

“No,” Sullivan said blankly.

“What happened? You beheld Him in his full glory. Was He wrath with you?” Ortega asked.

“No,” he said again.

“Then…please, Your Grace. What happened?”

“Not here. We must go now,” he said, before looking severely at Ortega. “Let none bear witness of this to Dawes.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Ortega said. He helped Sullivan to his feet, then called over the Army captain. One of the men assisted Sullivan while Ortega and the captain took the rest up to the altar. The sentries looked alarmed.

“You will accompany us,” Ortega said with a slight nod to an Army captain at his side.

“Sir, we are sentries,” the sergeant protested as the other men surrounded them.

“Not to worry, you will be relieved shortly,” Ortega said with a smile as several men each approached the sentries. The Imperial Guards both went to raise their weapons, but the soldiers rushed them and pinned them to the wall. Both were quickly gagged, had their hands bound and hoods placed over their heads. Ortega sized them up and pointed to two of the men. “You two, don their uniforms and don’t stop moving or look at anyone when we leave.”

When the exited the Chantry, the outer guards commented on the prisoners, exclaiming “By the Emperor, what happened?”

“Blasphemy. The Emperor revealed the sins of these men, which set them at one another on sacred ground,” Ortega explained. “The Inquisition and the Imperial Guard will handle this.”

The sergeants, now both wearing Army uniforms, both gave muffled shouts of protest, but the outer guards simply shook their heads in disgust. Sullivan’s party left the Cathedral without further interruption.

---

Sullivan Estate
Magus Civitas outskirts

Sullivan took a bit of time to recover, but he remained virtually silent except for terse commands to his servants and acolytes. Ortega kept fidgeting, dropping a cigarette and tapping his foot. He was starting to sweat by the time Sullivan finally called him into his library. However, Sullivan began by praying and staring at scripture, then simply looked lost in contemplation. Ortega couldn’t take it anymore, and asked “Your Grace, I beg of you to tell me what you saw. The future of the Imperium depends upon it.”

Sullivan stared into space a moment, then quietly murmured. “We have forsaken Him.”

Ortega looked puzzled, then shook his head. “What? Then we must repent for our deeds tonight.”

“That is not what I mean. We have forgotten Him, all of us,” Sullivan said grimly.

Ortega’s eyes widened. “What? No, never, Your Grace! How could you say that?”

“I begged His forgiveness for treading upon sacred ground, but He did not even reproach me for my transgression. I then prayed that He would offer guidance to His humble servants in their time of need and moral crisis. His silence revealed all,” Sullivan said.

The words hung there a moment. Sullivan was ashen-faced. Ortega went pale. “Silence? Not even a vision? Then…”

“Even in my most private moments, I dared not fear this. The Curia has been lost in the pursuit of worldly power and Mammon. We are no longer worthy of the Immortal Emperor. He no longer sits the Golden Throne,” Sullivan declared.

“No, no, Your Grace, that cannot be,” Ortega said, pacing back and forth. “The Curia…its mandate, the Imperium itself…”

“Empty. Empty as that chamber.”

“No…no! It cannot be! I don’t understand!” Ortega exclaimed.

“My friend, keep your voice down, you’ve known. You knew exactly when we lost our purpose. When this became necessary,” Sullivan said softly.

Ortega stood frozen in his tracks. “When the Imperium treated submission as victory. When our prosperity vanished. When we allowed the faithful to become subservient to heathens. This would have been impossible if He were here.”

“And the Council of Guardians, if their hearts were true, they would have known as well. Until tonight the Council alone has beheld the Emperor in His glory. They would have felt His absence. Instead they pressed forward heedless of His will,” Sullivan said, looking suddenly irate.

“Blasphemy…”

“Of the highest order. We must return to the path of righteousness.” He looked sharply at Ortega. “You are sure of your man in the Palace?”

“Absolutely,” Ortega said. “Not just of his faith. Betrayal would ruin him and his entire family,”

Sullivan beckoned for Ortega to come closer. He whispered, the Inquisitor listening intently. “I fear now the Council means to dispose of us, that this is the true meaning of this treasury matter. If they learn what we’ve done, we are finished. So we must act first. We must be shriven before the Emperor, and rid ourselves of this decadence.”

“But how? We are but two, plus your friends in the Curia,” Ortega whispered.

“That is not true,” Sullivan said, looking with renewed purpose. “We will gather the righteous in the time afforded to us. We will save the Imperium.”

[Arbites]

Sullivan Estate, Magus Civitas Outskirts
8:30 PM, March 31st

It had been two weeks since Cardinal Sullivan had approached the apparently vacant Golden Throne. He had revealed what he had seen to two other Puritans, the two who had arguably led the schism to begin with, Cardinals Urban and Meyer. They were deeply alarmed; in order to resolve contentious policy matters, the Council had on numerous occasions claimed to have consulted with the Emperor to break the deadlock and achieve consensus. Apparently the Council had simply been ruling by fiat the entire time. Now that they faced stronger opposition within the Curia, what would they do? What was the true purpose of the treasury fight?

The would-be triumvirate had largely avoided meeting directly, acting through intermediaries while they maneuvered and gathered allies. The night before the deadline, however, the group met in Sullivan’s private study. The old guard had not been idle, either. Urban looked around upon entering. “Where is Inquisitor Ortega? I wished to commend him for his good service.”

“No one has seen or heard from him since he delivered Dawes’ list,” Sullivan said gravely. Urban started and his eyes went wide. Sullivan was resolute. “We shall either free or avenge him.”

Urban was rubbing his hands. “That means we are out of time, the apostates are already moving. Brother Meyer, we must assume they know at least something of our plans—hopefully no more than we know of theirs, which is precious little. Our other friends must have reassurances that we have teeth. Who is with us?”

“Creed,” Meyer said. Urban’s furrowed brow immediately relaxed. Sullivan nodded in approval. “In High Command, Castor, Harrington, and Stone have been most helpful. They’ve no love for Cadman’s proposals, and they’ve seen to it that their trusted colleagues learned of Dawes’ list, especially those named. High Command will be sufficiently indecisive. There are others as well, but between the Capital Military District and nearly half of High Command, they are secondary.”

“What about Sturnn?” Urban asked.

“Nothing to fear from him. He and his men are on the other side of the country with the Adirans’ guns pointed at them,” Meyer said with a nod. “And Tauber is with us besides.”

“But we are sure about Creed?” Urban pressed.

“He’s on Dawes’ list the same as each of us,” Meyer said with a shrug. “Reported as a private sympathizer with organized labor and an opponent to selling Imperial labor into foreign bondage—his words. During the Corvega strike three months ago he quarreled with the archbishop, delaying the final deployment of his troops until it was agreed not to simply fire on the picket line unless they were found to be communists. He outright refused to deploy the 36th to demolish the slums at Farron Park on the grounds it wasn’t soldiers’ work.”

“So without us he is condemned,” Urban said with a nod.

“Such an ugly way of putting it,” Sullivan said with a shake of his head. “Creed is a man of true faith, so the apostates cannot abide him and he knows this—and the truth. He is with us. Tonight I will address the men who will secure the Chambers.”

Urban and Meyer looked at Sullivan. “The men?”

“What use is one general if all his men do not follow? They must be clear in their purpose, this is going to seem unusual or even suspicious to them,” Sullivan said firmly.

“But why go yourself? Why risk exposure?” Urban asked.

“They must see me. They must see it is the Curia which acts, lest they be deceived or tempted by the apostates,” Sullivan explained.

Urban and Meyer glanced at each other. Meyer said “Very well, Brother. I commend your courage.”

“We will all need courage to get us through tomorrow. The timing of everything is in the Emperor’s hands, and there is still much we don’t know about the apostates’ own schemes. What of the civil service?” Sullivan asked.

“No need to worry about them. We have enough friends in high places there to ensure a smooth transition as long as the Curia endures,” Urban said, gesturing between him and Meyer. “The rest are replaceable as needs be.”

The room fell still a moment. The three Cardinals looked to one another. Sullivan broke the silence and spread his hands. “It is written that the words of the faithful are the mountains, but the deeds of the faithful are the world. Let us act, dear Brothers, and prove ourselves worthy of Him once again.”

---

Fort Gaunt
Magus Civitas Outskirts
1 AM, April 1

The Capital Military District was responsible for the defense of the capital and much of the northeast coastal region of the country. Military districts in the Imperium were primarily administrative units, providing internal security in peacetime and supporting the army groups through logistics and training in wartime. Although much of the Capital District’s military strength mostly consisted of air defenses and coastal artillery, it still included the 36th and 60th Infantry Divisions. Despite a number of active divisions elsewhere in the country being placed in reserve, few were keen to skimp on the defense of the capital.

The District was under the command of General Ulysses Creed, a barrel-chested man who began every staff meeting with a prayer and mandated an unusual number of grooming and moral standards for all of his men. He’d been promoted to his current station as a man of unshakable faith and resolve who could be trusted implicitly with the capital’s defense. Now, apparently, that was more a matter of opinion.

Two companies from the 36th Infantry Division were assembled at the parade ground of Fort Gaunt several miles from the capital. It was below freezing, the men were all in winter gear. Some had difficulty standing still, wiping at runny noses or fidgeting trying to keep warm.

They heard the gruff voice of the RSM bellow a call to attention. Many wondered what kind of drill or exercise they’d be doing today. For nearly two weeks it had all been close quarters courses and emergency drills waking them up at night.

Instead they saw heavy ornate red vestments, and a wizened, long, angular face. They didn’t know exactly who he was, but they knew he was a Cardinal. The RSM had them present arms as the incongruous figure made his way to the head of the formation.

“My brothers, I am Cardinal Sullivan. You no doubt have questions. I have answers, though I fear they may not ease your hearts or steady your minds,” he said rather gravely. As he spoke he kept glancing around, looking at the men’s faces “You’ve all seen what’s become of our once proud nation. Some of your families are living in squalor. You no doubt wonder about your pay. Some may even be shaken in their faith, wondering how this came to pass. But I say to you this is not the Emperor’s will, but the fruits of the arrogance of man.”

Sullivan looked visibly troubled a moment, as though he was about to break down. Some of the men shifted or glanced around in spite of themselves, but he continued after a moment. “I am most distressed to say that members of our own government have surrendered to temptation. Suffice it to say they conspire to usurp the mandate passed down by the Emperor, and tomorrow is when they shall strike. Even now their poisonous influence deceives the hearts of otherwise loyal men, and drags the nation into poverty and dishonor. Brothers, the Imperium must be restored, and this sinister, faithless cabal must be made to repent. You shall have the great honor to take part in this.”

He then looked severe. “Remember, the Emperor is our Father and our Guardian, but we must also guard the Emperor. Remember that any man—any man—may fall to temptation. Be clear of purpose and heart, brothers, and let His will be done.”

“Now, let us pray…” Sullivan said, concluding his address by leading the formation in a soldiers’ prayer.

---

Magus Civitas
8:25 AM, April 1

The train arrived on time. Pulling into the Capital Freight Yard, the diesel locomotive came to a slow halt near an industrial warehouse. The rail workers were generally too preoccupied with their own work to notice this particular warehouse had received a number of deliveries but had yet to send out any delivery trucks. That the warehouse was locked up tight was normal and expected. It was an unusual morning, however, in that nearly every arrival and departure had been rescheduled. The workforce was accordingly all in the warehouses.

It was even more unusual in that the only train to arrive pulled up to the empty warehouse and dozens, perhaps even a few hundred, armed soldiers piled out of what looked like refrigerated boxcars, freight containers, and animal carriers. The main warehouse doors opened, revealing rows of UAZ 469s and Ural 6x6 trucks. These vehicles were all emblazoned with the stylized “I” insignia marking them as Inquisitorial Interior Forces.

The Curia had just convened. Dawes led the opening prayers as usual, but the serenity of the chamber was gone. The Cardinals responded to the prayers with muffled, rote recitation, glancing around at one another, studying rivals in particular. Sullivan was practically staring at Dawes, who only saw him briefly.

The Interior Forces’ convoy was headed up by police vans, which turned their lights on and cleared the road ahead. Pedestrians looked on with mixtures of concern, curiosity, and fear; some were seen rushing indoors.

In one vehicle, a rather young NCO said “Sir, were we expecting any reinforcements from the west?”

“No, corporal, and what kind of report is that?” Captain Reeves asked irritably.

“Well, I see one regular Army truck a block away, moving northbound parallel to us, sir,” the young man said.

“What?” Reeves said in confusion, shifting over to see for himself. Observing that this was indeed the case, he tapped his RTO and said “Kohl, radio the CO.”

There was a pause of nearly a minute on the radio, until his RTO finally got a short reply. “Says acknowledged, stay on route, reestablish radio silence,”

Reeves grimaced and looked back at the Army truck. It was turning away from them.

They arrived at the Chambers of the Curia only about a minute later. Police had set up traffic barricades while officers on foot kept waving pedestrians away.

Reeves disembarked and just as he hit the sidewalk he was almost accosted by the Major’s aide. “Report to the Major, new orders, keep your men embarked,” he said hurriedly.

They were parking their vehicles in the shadow of the imposing Gothic façade of the Curia chambers. As Reeves rushed over saw some of A platoon marching in through the front doors, to the alarm and confusion of someone just leaving. The poor bastard was immediately cuffed and brought back to the vehicles.

Eventually he found Major Thornton and the other assembled company and platoon commanders. “B and C companies are to secure certain secondary objectives immediately. Priority given to the Sylvan substation, airport, Order Eidos studio, and the approach to embassy row. Assume any military force which overtly challenges you to be hostile. If they occupy your objectives, contest them. Is that understood?”

A chorus of “Yes sirs” followed and they were all back in their vehicles and speeding away in short order.

---

Inside the Chamber, the Council’s proposed budget had been put forward. As expected the core of the proposal relied on cuts to the military, tax cuts for domestic industry, and increases on excise taxes to shore up the budget and eventually pay down the war debt. A version of this proposal had already circulated, and its opponents maintained that it would not only fall short of its objectives but turn the Imperium into a debtor nation. Allowing foreign powers to own too much of the nation’s sovereign debt was unacceptable to the Puritans.

Their positions were known, and it became clear as the roll was called that there was still no consensus in the Chamber. As he recorded his vote, Sullivan saw Robertson look to Dawes and then call his aide Remus to his side.

Dawes then rose to his feet, with some effort drawing himself up and taking a deep breath of oxygen. “Brothers, the day that this august body begins to behave as the fractured legislatures of republics is the day that we have failed the Emperor…and that day is today. We do not govern this nation on our own whims but on a mandate from the divine. And yet I see before me today dozens of men of faith intractably holding to their opinions even at the expense of the unity of this chamber.”

At this point there were noises right outside the door. Some of the Cardinals were looking around anxiously.

Dawes continued. “One of, if not the most serious duties we are tasked with is the allocation of this nation’s resources to the greater purpose. The day that we fail in this and others assume this duty is the day the Imperium as was created by the Emperor ceases to be.”

There were shouts immediately outside the chamber doors. Dawes continued “And the Imperium faces great challenges in these dark days. The Council is charged with preserving the sanctity of this body, and it will do so by any means necessary. I make a motion to the Council that none may leave this chamber until this matter is resolved. Does any on the Council oppose this motion?”

None spoke. Several Cardinals looked concerned, even quietly voiced their disapproval. Dawes paid them no heed, but after another hit of oxygen, he proclaimed “The motion is carried. No further postponements, then. Let us be serious.”

The Cardinals all looked around, the Puritans looking stoic, the old guard nodding in approval.

---

Outside the chamber, in the hallways of the building, some Interior soldiers burst through the door to an open office floor, only to stand stunned. Desk after desk after desk was empty. It was nearly silent until lone bespectacled man stood in alarm from a single desk and threw up his hands. “Ah! Don’t shoot!”

The lieutenant in charge barked “Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, sir!” the man replied.

“Don’t move! The Inquisition does not rest! Where are they?” the junior officer pressed. He sent several men forward.

“I swear by the Emperor I don’t know! I came into work and no one was here!” the man blubbered.

The soldiers handcuffed him and started pushing him towards the door. “Please, I have a family!” the man protested.

“Then you ought to cooperate with our search,” the lieutenant said. He then whispered something to his sergeant, who hauled the office worker out. On the way out the hapless man noticed more troops in other offices yanking open filing cabinets and leading similarly terrified-looking office workers away.

---

On the streets, Captain Reeves’ column was proceeding to its secondary objective: the Order Eidos main office. All local media, including television, radio, and print, originated from the large office building there. It also doubled as a telecommunications hub and mass surveillance center where phone and Internet traffic were monitored—or could be cut.

It was a strategic location important to effective control of the city. Therefore, Reeves wasn’t the only one interested in it. The same corporal shouted anxiously “Sir! There are three Army trucks parked at the front door. See eight, no ten men on the street…”

Reeves looked for himself, then saw a small group dragging something. Squinting a moment, he tapped the driver. “Scatter those men! That’s concertina wire! They mean to block us!”

The 469 raced forward, and the men at the base of the tower immediately took notice. Reeves saw the men dragging the wire look up in alarm and dive aside at the last moment.

Just as that happened, there were ricochets all along the side of Reeves’ vehicle. The driver slammed on the brakes just before they collided with one of the 36th’s trucks. Reeves’ troops all disembarked, took cover behind the tires and engine blocks of their vehicles and returned fire. As he crouched beside his bullet-ridden 469’s tire, Reeves shouted “I will have someone’s head for this!” The sounds of gunfire echoed between the buildings. Screams could be heard faintly from inside the office.

---

Back in the Chamber, the discussion had gone nowhere. The Council was adamant in maintaining the existing national economic policy, refusing to compromise with the Puritans.

Then Sullivan rose to speak during a pause, requesting the floor and addressing Dawes directly. “Your Grace, I think we have been discussing this matter since it was brought to the floor of this chamber. We can all hear commotion just outside those doors. But we are no closer to solving this problem through discussion even with this highly unusual measure you have taken.”

“We remain at an impasse, so I put it to you, Your Grace, what does the Council intend to do now?”

“The Council will do what it must,” Dawes said.

“We must know what that means. The future of the Imperium depends upon it,” Sullivan pressed.

“In this time of crisis, I’m sure you would agree the Council must exercise its own judgment as to the course of national affairs and as to the unity of this body,” Dawes explained.

Now the Puritans all started clamoring. Sullivan was adamant. “Cardinal Dawes, there is nothing in Imperial law, canon law, or the Scrolls which provides for such a measure. I will remind you that we do not rule, we serve.”

Dawes declared “This body does not require a lecture on our duties or station, Cardinal. I ask you to cede the floor to those willing to discuss the motion at hand.” A number of Puritans started shaking their heads and grumbling. Dawes whispered something to Robertson. Sullivan defiantly remained standing.

---

At the intersection of Capital Boulevard and Jason Street, several trucks of the 36th Infantry Division were parked blocking the road. Soldiers with thick gloves were dragging concertina razor wire across the normally busy street. Most pedestrians and civilian vehicles stopped well short of the barricade and turned around, although at least a couple tried to ask their business and were shouted at by the soldiers to leave the area. A couple of police cruisers were sitting on the side of the barricades empty with their lights on; their former operators were sitting rather anxiously behind the trucks with a couple of soldiers watching over them.

Most of the men were alert or on edge since they heard gunfire in the distance, but the platoon commander Lieutenant Bowers was talking to his first sergeant quietly. The lieutenant looked nearly ten years younger than the sergeant. “I’m just saying none of this feels right. We’re expecting opposition within the capital? How could the Inquisition have missed this?”

The sergeant looked tired. “Sir, I’d advise you leave the thinking to the spooks. For soldiers and junior officers all it does is attract unwanted attention.”

“But what if someone has got it wrong? What kind of man is the general, anyway?”

“No one really knows, sir,” the sergeant replied, ears perking up briefly.

Bowers looked confused. “Sergeant, you’ve been with this company for how many years? You don’t know anything about the division commander?”

“Why should I, sir?” the sergeant asked, looking distracted. The Lieutenant looked at him in confusion. “Look, I’ve never met the man, just seen him a few times. All I’ve heard are two things. First, he wants Sturnn’s job. Second, no one’s ever heard him curse, seen him smoke or drink, or so much as look at a pretty face. Neither have any bearing on today.” He looked up and down the street abruptly and said “Contact, looks like Interior vehicles.”

“Interior? Try and hail them,” Bowers said.

The sergeant signed and said “Sir, first things first. Remember the briefing.”

“Oh, of course,” Bowers said, looking sheepish.

The approaching Interior troops saw Bowers‘ platoon train their weapons on them and came to a screeching halt. What followed was a confused, tense exchange on the radio. Bowers’s platoon did its job, however, in preventing the Interior men from reaching a strategic position.

---

All around the city, Major Thornton’s Interior troops were being challenged or blocked by men of the 36th. Bowers and others prevented them from even reaching the key power substation, while Reeves and his men were forced back from the Order Eidos building by the arrival of reinforcements. It wasn’t long before it seemed like the 36th was everywhere. In addition to those locations, the 36th already occupied key intersections, the New Cathedral, the Cathedral of Emergence, police stations, hospitals, the water treatment plant, the approach to Embassy Row, and commuter train stations. There were only two remaining objectives: the airport and the Chambers themselves.

In the Chambers, Meyer and Urban were looking nervous as the increasingly frustrated Council tried to force the members to agree to their terms. Meyer said quietly to Sullivan “We must stall for more time. What’s taking so long?”

Robertson now shouted to the entire chamber “Enough! This bickering has gone on long enough. There is clearly enough consensus to see this passed, and I move to declare the motion passed. I suggest those further undermining the harmony of this body consider carefully their futures.”

Dawes said coldly “The motion is passed by sufficient numbers.”

Sullivan shouted back. “There is no consensus here! The Council does not rule, only He does! Only the Emperor can decide this matter!”

Finally the Puritan side of the Curia erupted in shouting and open denunciations of the Council. Sullivan continued “The Emperor must be consulted! He must be consulted before the Council leads our nation to ruin!” Robertson motioned for Remus, who turned his back and produced a radio.

The doors suddenly burst open and Interior troops marched into the Chamber. Order broke down entirely, with the Puritans protesting the intrusion. Robertson boomed “Escort Cardinal Sullivan from the building.”

The largely geriatric Cardinals posed little by way of physical threat, and the men quickly boxed Sullivan in on either side. He looked with hatred at Dawes and Robertson, then resumed an aloof demeanor toward the men handling him. “The Emperor will judge you this day,” Sullivan said coldly.

“He will, Your Grace. He shall judge us all,” one of the men said confidently. They led Sullivan outside. Meyer and Urban nodded to one another and began to protest the disrespect shown to a member of the Curia.

---

Interior had better luck at the airport. The company CO was already in the control tower, had obtained a flight schedule, and would be notified of any surprises by the nervous-looking air traffic controllers. Interior men were standing guard just outside hangars. None would escape the city by air, not even treacherous Cardinals.

To their surprise, they did not see gleaming cars with darkened windows coming at them but Army trucks. There were shouts around the hangar raising the alarm as the trucks came to an abrupt halt about a hundred yards away on the tarmac. Men piled out the back. The Interior men ducked around the corner of the hangar and behind their own vehicles.

Lieutenant Pittman heard over a megaphone “You there! Interior! What is your mission here?”

Looking to the men beside him, he shouted “We are to secure the airport against enemies of the state deemed flight risks. I’d ask you the same.”

There was a long pause. Then the megaphone calmly said “Well, as it happens that’s our mission as well. Who am I speaking to?”

“First Lieutenant Dean Pittman, 6th Interior,” Pittman shouted.

“Staff Sergeant Barber. 36th Infantry. I’m going to approach. Please come out in the open, sir.” Pittman then saw a large man emerge from behind one of the trucks and walk deliberately towards him. There were men still huddled behind the trucks, weapons at the ready.

Pittman said “Cover me” to the men next to him. He shouldered his weapon and walked out onto the pavement.

A short walk later and the two were face to face. “I was not informed that this would involve the Army,” Pittman said to Barber.

“Just as I was not informed this would involve Interior. Where the hell you even come from, anyway? We didn’t see you drive in.”

“Maybe I can tell you about it some other day,” Pittman said warily.

Barber pursed his lips. “Well, we were told to expect possible opposition. Are you opposing us?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Pittman replied casually.

“Then I got my orders. We’ll keep you company,” Barber said just as nonchalantly.

“I’ll have to report this,” Pittman said.

Barber then stood right next to him, put his hand on his shoulder, and very quietly said “Don’t.”

“I must,” Pittman replied.

Barber sighed. “Lieutenant, I don’t know what you’ve been told about us, but I get the feeling you all are just doing your jobs. You aren’t mixed up in whatever this is. We’re all loyal to the Emperor here, but you see, we just got reports of Interior men ransacking the holy Chambers of the Curia, holding the Curia hostage.”

“What?” Pittman said blankly.

“Yeah,” Barber said, rubbing his chin. “Your buddies are helping to stage a coup, but the Curia in its foresight had our whole division standing by. So I’ll need you all to stay where I can see you. Don’t do anything foolish.”

’A division?’ Pittman thought with some concern. But he looked firmly at Barber. “We’ve taken charge of these facilities, Staff Sergeant. You are not part of my chain of command and we’ve received no new orders on the subject. I know nothing of any coup or of your mission. You can’t intimidate us. I would suggest you withdraw.”

Barber’s face was unreadable a moment, then he smirked. “You oughtta get a citation, Lieutenant. Just don’t do anything stupid and we’ll all go home and laugh about this later.” The Army troops fanned out and surrounded the hangar from all sides, using their vehicles as makeshift cover and barricades. Another platoon rushed into the control tower.

---

After Sullivan’s arrest, Dawes could not call the chamber to order. Some of the Puritans accused the Council of blasphemy and staging a coup. Others tried to sway the Interior troops occupying the aisles without success. Robertson threatened others with removal from the chamber. A few minutes into this, however, and the doors burst open once more. It was Sullivan, looking slightly disheveled but not much worse for wear. Following him in were several dozen men in regular Army uniforms.

Sullivan proclaimed “Lo, though the time is dark, my faith shines! I say again to the Council, that there is only one who may decide if this course is just, and He does not suffer usurpers. We, all of us, must hasten to the Cathedral of Emergence…to consult with Him directly.” There were shouts of approval, and then more soldiers entered from another entrance. Sullivan shouted “Loyal men of the Imperium! Today our restoration begins!”

Robertson shouted over the din. “Who are these men? In the name of the Order of His Sword, remove yourselves at once!” The men of the 36th ignored him, and scuffles broke out at the points of entry as the Army men subdued the Interior troops. Two gunshots went off, sending the entire Curia scrambling to its feet, but the violence was over quickly.

Dawes and Robertson looked stunned a moment. As the soldiers posted themselves at the entrances, Robertson pulled Remus aside, who was seen shaking his head with a radio to his ear. Dawes sank back in his chair and fumbled a bit for his oxygen tube, breathing deeply. Cadman tried to shout over the din but was drowned out. Long attempted to lecture one of the soldiers but was apparently rebuffed. Urban spontaneously led the Puritan caucus in a hymn.

[Arbites]

Cathedral of Emergence
12 PM, April 1, Magus Civitas

The Curia was collectively stunned. As they emerged from the ornate door leading to the Golden Throne, some were even physically affected, needing to steady themselves or even collapsing to their knees. Some wept. One was physically sick. Others were agitated, rubbing their hands, nervously praying for forgiveness, pacing, chattering to others.

A few individuals stood out among this scene. The eldest among them, Dawes, Robertson, Long, appeared the picture of defiant dignity or utter contempt. They refused to look at their captors as they returned to the Chantry.

Cardinals Sullivan, Urban, and Meyer were all notably sanguine, although Meyer looked downcast. The three confronted the Council, and Sullivan spoke first. “I hereby propose to this esteemed body that those who conceived this sacrilege be named apostate. The Imperium shall serve false prophets no longer.” There was silence, then a building chorus of approval until finally there were outright shouts. One cardinal had to be calmed down when he didn’t stop hollering “Amen! Amen!”

Throughout it all the Council seemed to regard the proceedings with the same regard one might give a hair in one’s soup. “Your treachery shall be the ruin of us all. You will plunge our nation into chaos with this coup,” Dawes said coldly.

One cardinal overcome with emotion shouted “How long? How long has it been since He left us?!”

“You do not comprehend what you see. The Emperor will never reveal Himself to traitors such as yourselves,” Robertson replied angrily.

“No more lies,” Sullivan said bluntly. “In the name of the Immortal Emperor, for your profanity, for your vanity, I would see you all cast out. I say again the Imperium shall serve false prophets no longer. You will repent for what you have done.”

“What we have done?” Long replied incredulously. “You planned this! What have you promised these men? How long have you…”

Sullivan turned to the others and spoke over Long. “I propose that those members of the Curia still in good standing now pray and deliberate.” There were nods of agreement. Long only grew more agitated as the remaining Cardinals, about five dozen in number, began to file out. Sullivan whispered something to Creed, who sent one of his men out ahead.

As the door to the Chantry shut, they could hear Long shouting “You are ensnared by Evil Incarnate! This is the end of—“ The door shut with a thud.

There was a silent procession out of the Chantry back to the main floor of the cathedral. A line of at least a dozen or two soldiers were moving towards the Chantry where Robertson and the others were held. A number of the anxious-looking men bowed their heads as they passed the cardinals. More soldiers were posted at the doors. At the cardinals’ request, these men left the room and were to stand guard just outside. None were to be allowed in or out until they heard from Creed himself.

Meeting in a cathedral didn’t exactly lend itself to a large meeting with more than one point of view. Too anxious to start, many of the cardinals ended up standing in a large huddle near the altar while others took seats in the front pews. They talked in hushed tones, voicing disagreements and nebulous plots among one another until it became a din.

Out of this obvious confusion, Cardinal Sullivan glanced at Urban then climbed the pulpit. Some took notice but others were too engrossed in their worried or distraught conversations. He rose both hands and spoke deliberately and forcefully. “Brothers!” he called out in a booming voice. “My brothers, I realize that you all must be as shocked as I am, but I feel compelled to present new information which I could not in the presence of the disgraced. There is much to contemplate but this is most urgent.”

This wasn’t quite enough to quiet everyone, so Urban and Meyer helped. Urban half-snapped “Brothers, we are still faced with a crisis on our hands! Brother Sullivan has something to present, let us hear him!”

Meyer added. “Let us have an orderly meeting. Let all who has wisdom be heard. Let us be seated and pray. I for one take comfort now in the words of Nicholas.”

The Curia started to calm down. They began to fill out the pews while Sullivan remained at the pulpit with Meyer and Urban at his side. “I have here a document, passed to me by a pious Inquisitor who has since disappeared. It is a dossier originating with Cardinal Dawes circulated between the accused apostates. Described within were pious, loyal men of the Imperium whose only offense was their conscience.”

“Why was this not presented earlier? We might have averted this catastrophe!”

“It was merely a dossier. Its full meaning was not known until this morning. And that brings me to the heart of the matter. We all appear on this list. There are many more. Their lives are almost certainly in danger. As the lawful government of the Imperium, it is now our duty to protect them, and to destroy this cabal of apostates undoubtedly still active in every part of our society.”

“Brother Sullivan, how can we act?” asked one severely wrinkled cardinal with a hoarse, croaking voice. “The very structure of the Imperium is now called into question. The Emperor was the ultimate Arbiter in all disputes within the Curia. Without the Emperor as sovereign, we must in effect create an entirely new government, review those laws which may have been passed without the Emperor’s sanction.”

Sullivan shook his head. “Brother Osborne, we are the legitimate government. There must be no question of this or our enemies foreign and domestic will conspire together to the ruin of this nation. No, there must be continuity. We are the Curia.” There were voices of approval from the other cardinals.

“The legality and basis of our government is a vital question which must be given all proper consideration, and I give you my word that it will be,” Urban assured him. “We will never have the chance to do so, however, if we cannot address the present emergency.”

“But the Emperor, Brother,” another cardinal protested loudly. “We derive our power from the word of the divine. What are we without Him?”

“We are the Church. We are law. We are scripture. We are one thousand years of tradition. Has this not been a light to the Cetan people? Is this sufficient for us to carry out our sacred duty for so long?” Sullivan proclaimed, spreading his hands before him.

“No, Brother Sullivan, it is not. This very body is diminished by a third, nearly half its numbers, all fallen to corruption. The Emperor is gone. He has forsaken us, perhaps rightly so,” Osborne insisted, looking forlorn.

The air was still a moment. The room looked at Osborne and appeared to ponder his words. Sullivan held Osborne’s gaze, then said in a lower voice “Brother, I realize what we have all been through today, but your lack of faith greatly disturbs me. You must not say such things.”

“We have seen the empty throne with our own eyes. We are all of us held responsible for this sin of apostasy. This is a stain upon the Church,”

“That may be so,” Sullivan said. Meyer and Urban both looked at him. “Perhaps we are complicit in the Emperor’s eyes, but that is not for us to know. It is written that when the faithful fall from grace, they do not turn their backs to god or bury their sins in their hearts. They seek redemption.”

Urban added “And the Emperor is omnipotent. He may choose to appear in human form or not at all, such as He wills it. His silence could be a test of faith. Perhaps even this apostasy is according to His ultimate design, which is not for us to know. I for one will not shirk my duty as the apostates have done.”

There was murmuring and obvious confusion among the group. Sullivan spoke out clearly. “Brothers, we are humbled today as mortal men. On days such as this, there is no comfort save faith. I beg of you, Brothers, keep the faith. Do not speak of the Emperor as though He is absent. He is watching. He will reveal Himself to us when we are worthy, just as he did to those who had the courage to return to Ceti and restore it. Let us have courage now.”

“I would speak practically for a moment now, Brothers. There will be time for purely legal and doctrinal matters, but I believe it is obvious to all that we are faced with an emergency. We have narrowly survived a coup. The apostates of the Council have powerful allies; senior officials, administrators, business leaders, and military commanders.”

“Surely they were deceived as we were?” someone else asked.

“That remains to be determined,” Urban replied. “Moreover, we must keep in mind that the apostates could have easily prevailed today. They still might. We are here now by the grace of the Emperor, but the apostates could not have carried this out alone. There is a sword hanging over us as we speak: there are none who can withstand Sturnn if he moves on the capital.”

“That cannot happen,” Sullivan declared, his gaze sweeping the room. “If the apostates have such great support among the military and industry, then they have the means to free themselves and contest the Curia’s mandate. This cannot happen,” he repeated, looking severe. “It would mean civil war. Our foreign enemies will pounce. The faith will die.”

“But that shall not happen,” Sullivan said confidently. “Take heart, brothers, for we have accomplished much today, and the truly faithful shall rally to us if we act wisely and decisively. By the grace of the Emperor the Curia controls the capital and with it much of the apparatus of government. Our enemies elsewhere in the country may yet be unaware of the outcome of this morning. We have the initiative. Let us save the Imperium, brothers.”

---

“Dear Brothers and Sisters, as we thank the Emperor who has accompanied us during these days, the Holy Curia would like to thank all of you for your continued loyal service and concrete commitment that you have so generously demonstrated.

It is with a heavy heart that I speak to you of a sinister conspiracy within the Church. Consecrated persons, chosen by the Emperor to guide souls to salvation, let themselves be dominated by their human frailty or sickness and thus become tools of the Ruinous Powers. As the Curia convened on the morning of April 1st, soldiers smuggled into the Holy City stormed the sacred Chambers of the Holy Curia. A powerful cabal headed by the Council of Guardians declared their intentions to subvert the Emperor’s rule and seize absolute control of the Imperium.

This was the beginning of a message read aloud by Sullivan on the afternoon of April 1. Control of the capital gave him and the rest of the Puritans access to the nation’s encrypted civil defense radio system, which they used to broadcast the message to military bases, police stations, and offices of the Inquisition all around the Imperium. Sullivan’s intention was to speak directly to the rank and file who might be unwittingly serving the Council’s men, creating confusion or even turning some them without a struggle.

Before the message was sent, the Puritans went to work mobilizing their supporters throughout the country. Puritan archbishops and bishops were granted emergency powers to carry out the Curia’s inquest, including authorization to mobilize law enforcement or military units. If a physical threat emerged, they were given carte blanche. Some bishops were popular with the masses but faced with Council sympathizers in local armed forces or police. They were urged to organize demonstrations against the coup. To their most isolated friends who appeared on the list, they sent warnings of a plot against them and to flee for a designated safe haven.

---

The faith and courage of loyal servants of the Emperor have foiled their opening gambit, but their poisonous influence persists, and all must know this evil lest they be tempted. The Inquisition has obtained documents and communications revealing the full extent of the conspiracy. Dozens of faithful men and women were to be arrested and murdered without regard to the laws of god. Our nation’s defenses were to be stripped so that well-connected individuals could continue to live in decadence and sin.

As the Archbishop of Rhodinia, Konig had had a front row seat to the unrest developing in Imperial society. Although he’d been loathe to admit it at the time, Rhodinia was where the cracks in the Imperium’s economic foundation were first noticed. The city was home to the Imperium’s largest container port and a vast, filthy industrial district. As foreign trade began to taper off, layoffs and pay cuts led to strikes. Some were spontaneous wildcat strikes with no central organization for the Inquisition to pinpoint and dismantle. Others were implicitly organized by rogue clergy, including Bishop Engel, who had countermanded strikebreaking police operations and was now idolized by the city’s poor. After appearing before the Curia and successfully defending his actions, the bishop now counted Cardinals Meyer and Urban among his friends.

Konig had been friends with Robertson and Rhodinia’s business leaders. He’d been told to position police to protect the city’s vital infrastructure on April 1. He’d been told harmony was going to be restored and Engel was going to be removed with support of the Southeast Military District. If Engel’s followers attempted riots or a general strike, martial law would be declared and the Army would bolster Konig’s police and take control of the streets.

That was the last Konig had heard from any of his friends in the capital. No troops had so much as stirred, much less arrived to support him.

Now he sat on a private jet speeding away from the city…or at least until he felt the plane turning.

He stared out the window a moment to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, then saw his acolyte Joseph watching the window as well. Konig snapped “What’s going on? Why have we changed course?

“I don’t know,” Joseph said. The younger man had bags under his eyes and looked exhausted.

“Go find out,” Konig said, rubbing his hands a moment.

“Of course, Eminence,” Joseph replied, getting up, steadying himself, and making his way forward to the cockpit.

It was a long several minutes until Konig saw Joseph returning. Chewing on his lip, Konig said “Well?”

“Mechanical trouble, Eminence. Losing power in the starboard engine. They say we need to return to Rhodinia,” Joseph said glumly.

Konig didn’t even try to conceal his immediate worry. “No. Miel or Raney, anywhere but Rhodinia. Tell them.”

Joseph left again, leaving Konig to ponder the noise of the jet engines and his potential fate.

Joseph returned, leaned over and said “They say they can’t reach any other airport.”

“Get me another flight. Use your cell, it matters little at this point,” Konig replied sharply.

“Yes, Eminence,” Joseph replied, making a call.

Konig couldn’t hear what Joseph was saying over the engines, but he looked hopeful when the call lasted only a few short moments. Then he saw Joseph’s grim expression. “Eminence…Arbiter air traffic is being halted. All departures foreign and domestic are cancelled. This flight might very well have been the last to leave.”

Konig stared blankly a moment. “Can you…no, never mind.”

“Please, Excellency, I am at your disposal,” Joseph said earnestly.

Konig shrugged and flatly asked “Can you fly this plane?”

“Ah…er, no, Excellency.”

“Then join me in prayer, won’t you?” Konig asked. The words came naturally, but they were hollow. As they began the descent back into the brown cloud over Rhodinia, Konig was reciting a soldiers’ prayer for victory over heresy. When they touched down and taxied, he prayed for the safety of his allies. When he saw the soldiers and police on the tarmac, he prayed for courage.

---

At the heart of this violence was a great deception. By custom the Council of Guardians alone held the privilege to approach the Golden Throne and commune with the Emperor directly. Instead they have betrayed this privilege and have presumed to rule in His stead. As they were flawed, mortal men, they have led our nation astray to enrich themselves and amass great power and influence. They have corrupted others in this most worldly pursuit and conspired against the truly faithful.

This disgrace has made us unworthy of the Emperor. He has hidden His corporeal form to judge us. It is written that all men have the capacity for good and evil. It is left to us to face temptation and either succumb to it or lead a moral life. Now is the time to choose. Now is when the Curia reaffirms its wisdom and piety. Now is when the sinner must repent and the indifferent must learn devotion.

They rushed across hardwood floors, past a well-stocked bar, a long dining table with platters of warm, uneaten food. Empty and half-empty bottles were everywhere. The living room alone in this luxurious Illiers penthouse was bigger than any home most of the soldiers had ever known. Some of them were in awe, but a gruff sergeant kept prodding them forward, searching each room. There was even a second floor loft, which several men rushed upstairs. Each time a door opened there was a shout of “Clear!” While they were waiting, one soldier by the table glanced around, saw his commanding officer busy pawing through a desk, and quickly stuffed a grilled shrimp in his mouth.

After one final shout, Sergeant Rook said “That’s every room, sir.”

“Nobody home? Might’ve flown the coop,” the lieutenant said, reaching for something and knocking over a picture of suited individuals with a steel mill in the background.

“Balcony, sir,” Rook reminded him.

“Right, go to it, I’m after evidence,” the lieutenant said.

Rook shook his head and gathered four of the team. One said “New LT doesn’t realize what’s really going on, eh sergeant?”

“Quiet, I hear something,” Rook said.

Approaching the sliding door leading outside, they immediately knew they were on the right track by the short cocktail dresses left on the floor. One of the soldiers nudged the other with a wry grin. The sergeant didn’t break pace and threw open the door.

They momentarily heard women giggling give way to shouts and screams. Out on the balcony was a swimming pool and an occupied hot tub, steaming away in the cold air. Three gorgeous women were scrambling to cover themselves, mostly ducking down into the water. There was one man in the mix, a remarkably well-tanned but notably pot-bellied individual with a full head of silver hair. The man immediately stood up and barked “Get out! Who the hell are you?”

Some of the men hooted at the sight of the women, but the Sergeant didn’t break stride. “Victor Lunsford, you are under arrest.”

Lunsford was unimpressed. “Oh, think you’ve got a big fish, do you? Think you can push me around? Don’t you know who I am?”

Rook ignored him, produced handcuffs, and said “Get out of there and stand with your back to me and your arms behind you.”

“Like hell. I said get out! I’ll have you demoted to a—ack!”

The women shrieked as Rook jabbed Lunsford in the stomach. As he doubled over, Rook then hauled his naked glistening form out of the hot tub onto the balcony, where he landed with a wet smack.

“Secure the others,” Rook said, cuffing Victor and hauling the gasping man to his feet.

“Yes sergeant!” the men all said excitedly, poorly suppressing smiles and all but scrambling over each other to reach the women first. They made noises of protest but were generally too frightened to put up any kind of fight.

Victor was still catching his breath but tried to be defiant regardless. “Take…your hands off me! You can’t do this to me! I’m on the board of Overhauser Steel! I demand to know these outrageous charges!”

“You are charged with numerous moral crimes as well as giving shelter to enemies of the state,” Rook said coldly.

“Absurd…I…”

“Shut up,” the sergeant snapped as he put a hood over Lunsford’s head. As they walked out, the lieutenant was still pawing through the desk. On the way out a good deal of the dinner and bottles were gone.

---

Loyal servants of the Emperor, the Curia has heard the faithful cry out for salvation. In our nation’s troubles, the Church sees the reflection of the Emperor’s wrath, betrayed and insulted by these deceitful consecrated persons. Today we find ourselves before a manifestation of brazen, aggressive, and destructive evil. Behind and within, there is the spirit of evil, which in its pride and in its arrogance considered itself the true master of this nation, if not the Lord of the World.

I have seen the men of this nation reduced to poverty. I have heard of unrepentant sinners shown deference because of their wealth and station. I know of innocents imprisoned for their true faith. These times test our faith and sow doubt.

But doubt not, for the Imperium yet endures. This transmission marks the beginning of a formal inquest into the sin of apostasy.

To those deceived by the apostates, the Curia offers amnesty and redemption. Cooperate with the inquest and you shall remain our brothers and sisters. But you must do so immediately and fully. Those who persist in criminal conspiracy of any sort or fail to heed the Curia’s orders past midnight tonight shall face our wrath. Remember that unlawful orders need not be followed, nor shall they suffice to prove one’s innocence.

Sullivan and his faction had done their level best to seize control of all communications connecting the capital to the rest of the country. The Order Eidos headquarters was at the epicenter of the coup, and whoever held it gained effective control of the capital’s broadcast radio, television, phones, and Internet. They couldn’t account for everything, however. The Council’s men from Sixth Interior had signals of their own, and before his ultimate Major Thornton made a report to regimental headquarters at Kanab, situated between Robles and the capital.

Although there was some confusion in the report, Thornton’s superior Colonel Mullen knew three things for sure: Thornton was defeated by a counter-coup, the 36th Infantry Division had carried it out, and the Chambers of the Curia had fallen.

Mullen passed the shocking report onto division, but nothing happened. He realized only too late that may have been a mistake. If the 36th were traitors, it could easily go all the way to Creed or beyond. He didn’t know the coup’s goals or if his own chain of command might be compromised…or pushing up daisies.

Nevertheless, Mullen’s duty was to preserve the lawful government of the Imperium. He contacted those he had worked with on Thornton’s failed operation in the capital. Surely they’d been handpicked for loyalty. Then he would turn to the one military force in the nation which could bring overwhelming force to bear on these traitors: General Sturnn’s Army Group West.

Sitting in his office on base, Mullen was on his second pack of cigarettes today and getting frustrated flicking anxiously at the lighter. That’s about when RSM Ingram returned and came to attention. “It’s away, sir.”

“They confirmed it?” Mullen asked, still fumbling with the lighter.

“Alexander has Thornton’s report. He’ll get it to Sturnn…sir if you’ll permit me I can get that for you,” Ingram offered. Mullen nodded and Ingram took the lighter out of his shaking hand and lit his cigarette.

With a puff of smoke Mullen continued. “Did our guest finally see the light?”

“Afraid not, sir,” Ingram replied.

“Pity. We’re not taking him with us. Make sure the chaplain sees him. And our departure? We need to be ready by tomorrow at the latest.”

Ingram hesitated. “Sir, I’ll be honest, the regiment isn’t going anywhere. They’d need at least a week,” Ingram said grimly.

“That’s not good enough! Don’t you understand our situation?”

“Of course, sir, but every battalion commander reports it’s impossible. Thornton took most of our transport and a good number of weapons. We’ve lost contact with division. Our signals are almost certainly compromised,” Ingram explained.

“For all intents and purposes, we are behind enemy lines right now, sergeant major. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” Ingram said without much confidence, but then they both heard noise and heavy footsteps just outside.

“By the Emperor…put the base on alert, now,” Mullen said to Ingram.

Ingram left out the back door just as ten armed soldiers rushed in. Mullen saw they were all Interior men, his men, but they weren’t stopping in front of him.

“Well? Is this a report or what? What’s going on?”

Inquisitor Ortega then strode through the door. He was deprived of his spectacles, was wearing a rumpled white shirt with suspenders despite the cold, walked with a bit of a limp, and had a splint and bandages on his right hand. Upon seeing him, Mullen‘s eyes went wide and he bellowed out to any who could hear him “Raise the alarm! Put the base on al—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He was rushed, shoved up against the wall and at least four men wrestled him to the ground.

Ortega walked up to him calmly and knelt beside him. “Colonel, you placed your faith in false prophets rather than the Emperor, and will be cast down as such. Luckily your men have heard the truth from His Grace Cardinal Sullivan. You are under arrest by the Order of the Inquisition, for treason and heresy. Seek redemption while you are able.”

Mullen said in a strained voice “I knew nothing of any treason! I am a loyal servant of the God Emperor! If you were wrongly accused then I will bear witness and get you justice in His name!”

“You have nothing I want, colonel. We have the men above and below you. We already know everything. I am returned to duty and have given you nothing. And your convictions are clearly as wanting as your hospitality,” he said, holding up his wounded hand. “Goodbye, colonel.”

The colonel and his staff were hooded, gagged, and marched out of their office. He heard commotion, activity, and more footsteps around him. He was then forced to kneel, and shortly thereafter heard “Do not move!” A second later there was movement beside him. “Hey! I said don’t fucking move!”

There were gunshots, then a hard punch in his back, intense pain, fighting for breath, and then…nothing.

[New Edom]

The New Edomite Embassy
Magus Civitas

Major-General Maximilian Weber, ambassador to the Imperium of Arbites, sat at his table in his private suite, weeping softly as he ate his malted wheat pillows in goat’s milk. The memory of sharing this delicious breakfast with his daughters and son brought him such joy normally, but he had heard an evil, dreadful rumour that had wounded him to the quick.

Your daughters are lesbians. That is why they are unmarried. That is why they joined the army. Their wombs are dried up by unfeminine activity. Your son’s generative organs have failed due to the wounds he sustained. Their loss is due to you: your unfaithfulness and failure, along with others, to depose Mara and put the righteous Jocasta on the Throne. Your daughters are condemned to lap at the pudendae of other women, your son is a eunuch. Your line will fail with you.

That was what he had been told. An evil whisper in the confessional, the voice soft, educated, poisonous, and when he had gotten over being transfixed with horr, had risen and hurled back the curtain...no one was there.

Could it be? Clever Elena, whom he had taught piano? Darling, bold little Adah, who had ridden so daringly her little pony? And Cosmo...would it hurt him to be asked? Why had his son not married? The saying went: Captains may marry, Majors should marry, Colonels must marry. Hi son had attined the rank of Colonel (brevet) with the permanent grade of Lieutenant-Colonel in his regiment. Why not?

He could not speak of it to his wife. He was too torn between not wanting to hurt her, and such rage as would make him hurt her. But she was a good woman…

There was a soft knock at the door. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose, put on glasses so as to hide his wollen eyes. He would need eye drops.

The room was clean and neat as a barracks room. A polished, fitted, hardwood floor, all furniture arranged neatly, simply decorated. One indulgence was a potted nicotina plant that his wife had given him. Another a photograph of his three children smiling happily. “Come!”

His diplomatic attache came in, a serious balding man with wire framed spectacles. “General, I’m sorry to disturb your lunch,” he said, “But I’m afraid the situation is serious indeed. Travel permits have been canceled, and agents confirm that there have been troop movements and some shooting.”

“These movements…” said Weber, swinging around to look at him directly.

“Army troops, sir,” said the attache. “Now, we’ve put up the standard messages for our expat community here and in the provinces, and we’ve prepared a communique for you to look at. But the main concern is that we’ve had some difficulty getting hold of our usual contacts.”

Weber looked at him with a level gaze and sucked a bit of malted wheat from his teeth. “Very well. Try to put a call through to Cardinal Robertson directly, and then immediately put me through. If that doesn’t work, then I’m going to contact our Foreign Ministry.”

“Right away, sir,” said the attache, bowing and leaving.

[Arbites]

Chambers of the Curia
Magus Civitas

In Robertson’s office, a number of soldiers were rummaging through Robertson’s office under supervision from a captain and an Inquisitor. A sweaty, jumpy man in a cassock was handcuffed and sitting on the floor. Just as three soldiers walked out carrying cardboard boxes, the phone rang. The captain and Inquisitor looked at each other in confusion. “I thought the phones were cut?”

“They are, unless…could be a foreign line,” he said, before looking at the handcuffed man. The phone continued to ring. “You, over to the table now.”

“Y-yes sir. Anything you say sir,” the man stammered.

“Calm yourself. Answer naturally. The Cardinal is not in, we will call back. Make sure to ask who it is,” the Inquisitor said as he sat him down.

There was a loud bang as someone tripped and kicked a filing cabinet. The Captain snapped "Hey! Keep that racket down! Close the doors!"

The inquisitor picked up the phone and put it up to the aide’s ear. “Hello? This is Cardinal Robertson’s office. Name, please?"

"Hello, this is Mr. Jacob Oren. I am the Diplomatic Attache at the Edomite Embassy. To whom may I have the honour of speaking?"

The inquisitor was looming over the man in the cassock, listening in. "This is Brother Leo Harrison, His Grace's private secretary. How can I assist our noble allies today?"

"Ah, thank you, Brother Harrison, I would like to make an appointment for the Ambassador to speak with Cardinal Robertson, please."

Harrison looked at the Inquisitor, who scribbled something down in front of him. "I can see about arranging that. May I ask what this meeting is about?"

"Well, first of all, we would like to have a conversation about travel restrictions," explained the attache. "Some of our personnel wanting to travel for personal and professional reasons, as well as certain persons on a favoured list for the purposes of trade and commercial travel."

"Ah, is this about the travel restrictions enacted today, sir?"

"Yes, that is correct," replied the attaché.

"Very good. When does the Ambassador wish to speak with His Grace? Does he want to meet in person or would a phone call suffice?"

"I believe a phone call would suffice. There is another concern, Brother Harrison." the attache twiddled his pen as he sat at his desk. "Some shooting was heard earlier today in the capital. Normally, this would not be cause for alarm, but along with the travel restrictions...well you understand our concerns for security and our own citizens, coupled with the Cardinal being too busy to respond earlier. Could you shed some light on this?"

The Inquisitor shook his head. "I wish I knew more myself, sir, for both our sakes. And I certainly understand the concern about potential danger, so I will find out more and call you back if that would be acceptable."

"When can the Ambassador speak with the Cardinal then?" asked the attaché.

"I'm afraid I don't know exactly when His Grace will return. He has not been in since this morning," Harrison said. "I would think by the end of the day, tomorrow at the latest...unless this has something to do with the trouble here in the capital."

"Trouble?" said the attache. "What trouble is going on?"

"That gunfire we all heard. I believe some saw troops in the streets," Harrison said. "Last time it happened they were demolishing a shanty town. Nasty business. Disgraceful it got as bad as it did. But listen to me grasping at straws."

"I see," the attache said. "Yes, there have been some, er, industrial disturbances lately, have they not? Anything we should be worried about?"

"No sir. Nothing to be concerned about. Now, on my honor I will find out whatever I can. New Edom is our esteemed ally, after all," Harrison said. The captain was tapping his fingers.

"Thank you, have a good day then," said the attaché.

The Edomites would not have been able to put a call through to the Robertson estate. However, Oren’s phone rang only minutes later. If they had caller ID, it would show it coming from Robertson’s office.

There was a deep rather rough voice on the other line. “Honored allies, I do not believe I have had the pleasure. I am Cardinal Jonathan Graham. I do hope you are all well given the events today. I’m afraid the man you spoke with earlier was out of the loop, as they say, and I do apologize for any alarm this may have caused. He came to me seeking answers. The Ambassador is owed some answers and I hope I can provide them."

"Thank you for the call, Your Grace. Did you want to be put through to the Ambassador?" asked the attache.

"Yes, thank you," Graham replied.

After a click, a refined Baran voice said, "Hello, this is General Weber."

“General, this is Cardinal Graham, I wish we were first speaking under better circumstances," Graham said, sounding weary. "I regret to say that Cardinal Robertson will be unavailable for the indefinite future. It is with a heavy heart that I must tell you that he has been placed under interdict for high crimes against the Church.”

General Weber replied, "I'm very sorry to hear that. I'm shocked, in fact. How could such a thing happen? He appeared to be so loyal...from my point of view as a foreigner that is."

“I myself am still recovering from the shock of this grave affair. I once respected and admired him as my elder, as did we all,” Graham said rather sadly. “He indeed was once a giant among men, but I cannot deny what happened before my very eyes: the Council of Guardians attempted a coup d’etat. On the floor, Cardinal Dawes, with the overt support of Cardinal Robertson, introduced a measure which would have in effect granted the Council absolute control of the entire Church. When the vote was poised to fail, armed soldiers stormed the floor in an attempt to coerce us into submission. They even attempted to haul the courageous Cardinal Sullivan out as a common criminal.”

“However, the proper authorities responded swiftly. When he learned of the threat to the capital, General Creed hastily mobilized troops to secure the city. You or perhaps your staff may have seen some of these soldiers in the street. They clashed with the conspirators’ forces at times; you no doubt heard the gunfire.”

"I see," said the General. "Well, that's very unfortunate. May I ask...will there be any policy changes with regard to our alliance?"

“Your government is hereby assured that there will not be,” Graham said with gravity. “But you had questions about the travel restrictions as I understand it?”

"Yes...I have a list of permission requests which I will forward to your office. Please do not hesitate to contact me with any concerns. I would appreciate an opportunity to call on you personally as well." said the General.

"I would like that as well, Ambassador. Your service and character have been praised by all those who have had the pleasure of meeting you," Graham replied. "We will give these requests every consideration. Although I cannot promise we can grant every exemption, I can assure you that the travel ban is a temporary emergency measure--however understandably disruptive. I believe it would be only just to arrange for lodging to foreign travelers left temporarily stranded if their requests cannot be expedited."

"Thank you, Your Grace., for your time." said General Weber. "i am sorry for the difficulties you are dealing with.

When he got off the phone he shook his head, looking at the attache. "Old Robertson. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does, sir." said the attache.

[The Shrailleeni Empire]

Magnus Citivas,
The Imperium of Arbites

Many things had been expected when Shrailleen had normalized relations with the Imperium of Arbites the previous year. Navigating tedious bureaucracy, dealing with geriatric and stubborn cardinals, the careful game that was balancing the needs of the Leenic community with that of the Magi orthodoxy. An embassy was only the first step on what was envisioned as a path, one that led to increasing Shrailleeni diplomatic influence and soft power in the Imperium in a way that had been impossible beforehand.

But what had transpired in the last few days had come as a complete surprise. None living in the capital could be ignorant of the military movement taking place, particularly those in and around the chambers of the Curia. And although it wasn't as though the Imperium was a popular destination for Shrailleeni, the embassy had been informed that all travel permits had been cancelled.

Something strange and important was going on. Thankfully Ambassador Della Fallatel had been selected for exactly this kind of crisis. The Shrailleeni representative to Arbites had been hand-picked by Zattem Resbruck for her abilities, and for her unwavering personal resolve. She had been the face of the Enlightened Matriarch when reopening formal ties with the Imperium, and since that time she had served to the best of her ability to inform the Matriarchy of Foreign Affairs and Her Enlightened Majesty of all happenings within eastern Ceti to the best of her knowledge.

She was well prepared, and the events in Magnus Civitas struck her as something unthinkable. Could a change of government be happening in the Imperium? And if so, where did that leave her and Shrailleen? There were too many unknowns to act hastily, but the dark thought did occur to her. In her short time here she had become aware that the Curia, seen as a monolith in most of Shrailleen for years, was in fact divided into several factions of which there were two broad alliances, crudely imagined as the younger and the older. The normalization of relations between the Imperium and Shrailleen had occurred under the auspices of the old guard. If that changed, then what would this mean for that relationship?

She knew her duty. Cardinals Robertson and Long had formed the basis of Shrailleen-Imperium interaction since her appointment here. If anyone in the Curia could inform her as to what was going on, it would be one of them.

She called Cardinal Long first, as she had come to trust in him more than the suspicious Robertson."

[Hittanryan]

Hearing Difficulties
New Laconia

The Arroyo Hearings continued with testimony, largely collecting and confirming finer details about events and figures already mentioned. With the testimony completed, the Committee started on its report to the Assembly. In addition to keeping a record of the testimony and votes, the report could contain recommendations and statements pertaining to the topic as a whole. Committee reports could assign responsibility and blame, alter the course of many careers, and influence national policy provided it spurred the Assembly as a whole to action.

The Secretary of State calling for her own government to be investigated naturally created a public spectacle. Bailey’s supporters believed she and her caucus had courageously put human decency before politics, taking a stand against cynical, callous realpolitik. A clip surfaced online of her being greeted by an enthusiastic crowd outside the State Department, while her name was invoked repeatedly by activists.

The better part of the country heard that dozens of indigenous civilians died while in the custody of the Adiran military, and they saw a uniformed General Vance facing down an irate Assemblyman Schultz. Liberals accepted Vance’s account of things and pointed the finger squarely at the government for failing to provide the Army critical resources. Leftist pundits, academics, and activists on the other hand didn’t wait for the committee’s report. They were already ascribing motives to Vance and other figures, calling for further inquiries, and wanted the Committee’s report to reflect all this.

One professor at Valles Port State University summarized their final opinion as follows: “Whether or not any criminal acts took place, General Vance’s actions have disgraced our country and will undermine future negotiations in southern Ceti. He should resign, and if he won’t, he should be replaced.”

Not everyone agreed.

One would be hard-pressed to find any Adirans who didn’t deplore the deaths at Arroyo, but the hearings revealed enough to stir other sentiments as well. General Vance and other Army personnel all testified—and in some cases strongly asserted—that they made every effort to provide for the camp inmates. Vance in particular appeared entirely convinced that his own actions had been in the right, willing to argue publicly with the Assemblyman grilling him, risk of blowback be damned. Records reviewed over the course of the hearings seemed to confirm Vance’s account, although the death toll and resettlement questions both still stood. When the left persisted regardless, the government began to hear from people.

Assembly offices started to get phone calls and letters from widows, parents, relatives, and friends of soldiers killed in action at Sona. Some described grief. Others described the kind of people the fallen soldiers had been. Many in some way said they were proud of their lost loved one. All of them, however, asserted that these soldiers were no murderers. As Rangers they were volunteers, and they didn’t enlist so that they could kill civilians with impunity. They joined for any number of other reasons—tradition, education, love of country, career—but most emphatically not that.

Adiron was full of veterans. Volunteers or draftees, for the vast majority of Adirans military service was something to be proud of, especially with the enemy at the gates. Word of the first letters got out on social media and was picked up by various news outlets. The ad hoc letter and telephone campaign was picked up by veterans’ associations. More letters and phone calls went out to more and more Assembly offices, including Rowan and his Cabinet. They questioned not the point of the hearing but where it was going. Were soldiers to be scapegoated for having insufficient resources? Wasn’t that the Assembly’s fault? Were Members of the Assembly really asserting that Adiran soldiers would follow unlawful orders leading to the deaths of women and children? Didn’t the Arvo attack us and our allies?

Arvo Committee Chair and former party leadership contender James Cole represented a district in the east which had been bombed by the Imperium in previous wars. His constituency was a patriotic one with thousands of veterans. Cole grew visibly agitated while reading his letters, and finally cancelled an appointment to go straight to Fortner, bringing a small stack of letters with him. The largely humorless Cole said flatly “Paul, if this keeps up then I won’t preside over this circus anymore. There’s nothing criminal here, not even intent. They’re just out for blood. I won’t sign off on a report stringing Vance up. I won’t.”

“Yeah, Jim, I wouldn’t either. Listen, I’ve been asking around, can you send me copies of these letters you got? All of them?” Fortner asked.

“All of them?” Cole asked.

“Well blot out the names if you think you ought to. Oh, and is it all right if I show someone?”

Cole then fixed his gaze on Fortner, his outright scowl softening to just a neutral sort of stare. “Yes, Secretary. That’d be fine.”

Fortner had collected nearly a hundred letters by this point from him and other MAs. He sent them straight to Rowan. He was being dogged by press similarly to Bailey at this point, crowding outside the office mornings and evenings. On the morning before question time, he heard a reporter he knew of say the magic words: “Secretary, will you comment on the Arvo hearings?”

Looking amiable before the camera, Fortner slowed his pace and replied “I hope they found what they were looking for. We’re naturally prepared to continue to reply to their inquiries as best we’re able.”

“Will Vance keep his command?”

Fortner faced the reporter and nodded. “Yes, why wouldn’t he?”

The crowd stopped shouting and jostling and tried to push microphones and cameras forward. “Despite the calls for his resignation, some from your own party?”

“I don’t want to comment on the Committee proceedings before the report is written. Let me say this though: the losses at Arroyo were tragic, they were. We can’t erase their suffering. I know it, the general knows it, but our boys did everything that could reasonably be expected of them. The causes of those losses have been identified, which means they can be avoided in the future. If we want to talk about making amends that’s a conversation we can have. I don’t see how a change of command would help the people at Arroyo.”

“But isn’t Vance’s service record now in question?”

“I don’t see how. While in command of Third Army the forces under his command have successfully defended the Palisades from an Imperial invasion, strengthened our Confederate allies, dealt a decisive blow to human trafficking in the area, and defeated a dangerous warlord. As far as I’m concerned Hank Vance is a fine commander.”

“What about the question of removal? Was it really settled in your view?”

“Again, the Committee hasn’t issued its report yet, but my department has been fully transparent on evacuation. Besides, evacuation on its own isn’t the problem, is it? The real issue now is what happens to their land. Thing is, resettlement was never up to the military,” Fortner said, shaking his head. “It was an act of the Confederate Congress. That’s a diplomatic matter. So now the question you might want to ask is why the State Department didn’t do something about it before now. It’s not like Arroyo was a secret, least of all from the Secretary of State.”

The reporters were now crammed together trying to record Fortner’s words. “You’re saying the Secretary knew about the camp before she called for a hearing?”

“Of course, Arroyo, the Confederate bill, the Secretary’s known about it for months. I discussed it freely with her myself.”

“Then why’d she call for the hearing?”

“Well, I don’t know, Joe, I guess you’d have to ask her.”

“You didn’t know it was coming?”

“No, but we had nothing to hide. I don’t know what she thought they’d find. Hey, listen I’ve got to get going, thanks everyone,” he said with a wave before walking inside. The crowd of reporters all started trying to shout follow-up questions at him at once.

---

The Secretary of War had backed up an embattled general and made a mess for State. Rowan’s Cabinet was now publicly feuding. The media machine started speculating and analyzing Fortner’s every word; it was early enough in the day to make the morning news. Leftists were outraged that Fortner was opposed to their goal but at the same time confused that Bailey had done nothing about Arroyo for months. Veterans were heartened that people at the highest level of government were at the very least listening.

Less than an hour later, Fortner got the phone call he was expecting from Ober. Arriving at 1 Sierra he was confronted by Snyder just outside Rowan’s office. “Can’t say that was the smartest thing you’ve ever done, Secretary,” she said rather coldly.

Fortner was flippant in his reply. “I know what you’re going to say, Dana. I know what it could mean. What say we just go in and talk to George?”

They found Rowan and Cruise waiting inside. Rowan was expressionless when he motioned for them to sit down and said “All right, Secretary, let’s have your side of it,”

“You did get those letters, right, Mr. President?” Fortner asked him.

“I did.”

“Then that should tell you everything. We can’t work with the left. They’re going too far.”

“They’re part of our party,” Snyder said.

“Are they? They don’t act like it. They don’t appreciate the sacrifices our boys make. They don’t understand they’re putting Adiron in danger. They don’t know what it takes to maintain our way of life. Is that what you stand for, Mr. President?” Fortner asked pointedly.

“Nobody’s saying that, but this would’ve gone away on its own,” Snyder said.

“No, I don’t think so. It won’t go away until we throw someone under the bus and I’m not prepared to do that,” Fortner replied.

“Maybe if you’d given it a bit more time. Instead you just dumped gas on smoldering coals,” Snyder pointed out.

“I tossed one more stick on a bonfire,” Fortner countered. “Look, the left’s already gone. Al’s gone. His bargain’s gone. They’re pointing the finger at you for Arroyo, Mr. President. They won’t stop now until Al or Bailey sits in this office. Cruise? Snyder? You two don’t see it?” he appealed. Snyder held his gaze, but Cruise was nodding slightly.

“The left seems more genuine than that. They see all this as accountability,” Rowan pointed out.

“We are accountable. The testimony speaks for itself,” Fortner asserted. “The public knows what happened and why it happened. Adiron was fighting for the security of innocent people. Our boys fed, clothed, housed, and healed the people they were allegedly persecuting. The military situation and culture clash led to needless loss of life. We didn’t hide anything.”

“I’m not saying you did, Paul,” Rowan offered. “Schultz and the others will come after you regardless.”

Fortner nearly rolled his eyes. “Mr. President, I wanted to tell Schultz yesterday he might as well have starved those Arvo kids himself.”

Cruise, who was off to Rowan’s side, nodded again. Rowan said “That’s a little extreme.”

“Is it? That whole lefty caucus acts like our boys are mad dogs that need a short leash. Vance had it right though, we undercommitted. Third Army has Fourth Infantry Division and an airborne RCT down in Calaveras. They were freed up from the Palisades, Vance could’ve used them. This would’ve been all over by now, and there would’ve been no Arroyo.”

“You know, Mr. President…” Cruise interjected. “Greens, our left wing, and Saito all blocked that stuff. They wouldn’t expand the defense budget, waffled on Confederate infrastructure, and hippies kept attacking us in the media, rambling on about tone and colonialism that doesn’t exist.”

“See? It’s all bull,” Fortner said, motioning to Cruise. “Vance was right, his hands have been tied this whole time by the same people slinging mud at him,” Fortner said, before looking around. “George, come on, this is about more than just Arroyo now. This isn’t why you got into politics. Think of your old man.”

Rowan’s expression hardened. “I’ll ask you not to bring my father up that way again.”

Fortner raised a hand, as though to admit going a bit too far, but persisted. “The letters then. That’s what Adirans really think, and I’ll bet that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s veterans all across this country. Are you going to let them down? Scapegoat a commander over politics?”

“I don’t like it either,” Snyder began, “but this isn’t just a few votes on a bill, it’ll be the end of this government. We’re fighting on three fronts. The left, the Libs, not to mention Pendergast.”

“I don’t think we got a choice anymore,” Cruise piped up. The other three in the room all looked at him. “We’ve taken this deal with Al as far as it’s gonna go. Mr. President, you gave it your best shot, and you kept the party from splitting for two years. Now it’s happened. Sometimes it needs to happen.” Snyder’s eyes started to widen.

“Bailey and Bluford are staging a coup. We gotta respond. Whether or not the country follows, hey, it’s up to the voters if you keep your leadership, but at least if you go down you’ll be able to sleep at night knowing you didn’t cede the presidency to a hippie and sell out a general to stay in office as a figurehead.”

Cruise’s words hung in the air a moment. “I don’t think you’re ready to go down with the ship, because I don’t see Bailey here now,” Fortner pointed out.

There was another pause. “All right, I’ll take everything said here under consideration. If there’s nothing else, we need to get ready for question time,” Rowan concluded, standing up.

Fortner lingered. “Mr. President, there is one more thing. I’m making my position known now,” he said grimly. “If you’re going to ask me to do something which I’ll have a hard time agreeing to, well, you deserve people in your Cabinet whose views align with yours.”

“Paul, you can save the resignation speech because I’m not going to pass the buck,” Rowan said firmly. “You won’t be put in that position because I don’t want or need a new Secretary of War. Any decisions on Vance are my ultimate responsibility, and you can tell anyone who asks.”

Fortner’s expression brightened. “But we do have to prepare for questions,” Rowan concluded.

---

Question Time

Standing before the Assembly, Rowan’s first question came from MA Morrison, who was generally friendly to his administration. “The proceedings of the Select Committee on the Arvo have revealed a number of shortcomings in the planning and execution of operations in southern Ceti. Based on the testimony so far, will the President explain what his government intends to do to address this?”

Rowan replied “The accountability of our leaders is one reason why Adiron is the free and dynamic nation it is today. The Committee’s work I believe will play a part in guiding future planning. The loss of life at Arroyo is tragic. We can’t bring those lost at Arroyo back. We can offer recompense to those who lost loved ones. We can learn from what happened. We can continue to move towards a more peaceful, more prosperous southern Ceti. We will do better in the future.”

The Opposition Leader was next. “The President will recall the testimony of General Vance where he contended the events at Arroyo might have been avoided. Can the President explain why his government could not or would not provide our military with the resources necessary to complete their mission?”

“The gentleman will recall the votes of March and April 2017 where my government proposed budgetay measures related to Arcologia. He will recall that his party voted unanimously against,” Rowan said, pausing for a combination of applause and boos. “Unlike the Green Party which has consistently advocated restraint when it comes to the use of force, Mr. Saito offered no real explanation for his party’s vote at the time. The gentleman likely knows better than I why this happened.”

Fisher was unfazed. “The Opposition is not responsible for the inability of a governing majority to govern. It falls to the President to deal and negotiate effectively with the Assembly. Will the President assume responsibility for that, at least?”

“Negotiate,” Rowan repeated as though chewing on the word. “I had hoped at the time that matters of national security would be beyond partisan concerns. I’m surprised and deeply disappointed to hear that the Liberal Party was willing to play politics over the defense of the nation and our allies. Apparently we did not in fact differ on policy, I just underbid. What is the price of the lives of Adiran service members, Adiran sailors and aid workers, Confederate townspeople, and the detainees at Arroyo? What could I have given the Liberal Party in exchange for their lives? A no-bid contract for the Opposition Leader’s district, perhaps?” Saito laughed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head amid various jeers from the other side of the aisle. “I sincerely hope that things will be different under the new Liberal leadership.”

Next up was left-leaning Social Democrat Bauer. “Mr. President, this morning the Secretary of War commented publicly on the ongoing hearings regarding Arvo detainees at Arroyo. In effect, he has brushed off the deaths of dozens of civilians as a mistake, assigned blame to another government department, and suggested that the commander responsible will face no consequences. Do the Secretary’s statements reflect the policy and opinions of your government?”

“First, we do not condemn without evidence. Although we’ve heard public testimony, the Committee has yet to issue its final report. Second, this tragic episode clearly is not the fault of one man. There were many deliberate decisions at many levels which led to this, some in this very room. Third, I’m aware of the Secretary’s remarks and I don’t see how you can interpret them in good faith as brushing off, blaming, or absolving anyone.”

“Is the President then in effect giving the military carte blanche when it comes to the rights of indigenous peoples?”

“No, the military is bound by law and subordinate to civilian government. The hearings are proof of that. Furthermore, I’m not sure what the gentleman is insinuating. These aren’t faceless, mindless drones we’re talking about. These are Adiran soldiers. Sons, fathers, neighbors, friends trained to defend our country. Think of someone you know who has served or is currently serving. Can you picture them targeting and abusing civilians? Can you picture them either knowingly breaking the law or obeying unlawful orders to do so? If they witnessed or discovered these acts, do you think they would be complicit? Do you think they would lie to the Assembly? In the absence of evidence, my answer to all of those questions is ‘no.’” Applause broke out throughout the Assembly.

Green agitator Sara Paquin stood while the clapping was still dying down, looking almost annoyed that she had to wait. “Does the President believe, all other things being equal, this would have happened if these were white people instead of Arvo?”

Rowan’s expression grew cold as he replied. “You know, I’m getting sick of attacks like that on the men and women serving this country, and I think a lot of Adirans are. The committee has explored in detail why this happened, and I’ve seen no evidence this was deliberate, much less related in any way to race, religion, or otherwise,” he began, interrupted by a chorus of approvals. “To answer the Assemblywoman’s question to the letter, though, I will say if they were white people who were armed like the Arvo, inhabited the same lands as the Arvo, and consistently attacked their neighbors including Adirans and their allies, then I’m afraid it would have happened the same way, yes.”

Cole was next. “Does the President support Secretary Fortner’s allegation that the Secretary of State was fully aware of Arroyo from the start?”

“It’s not an allegation, it’s simple fact,” he said, looking over at Bailey herself, who returned his gaze while seeming to take a deep breath. “Secretary Bailey is a member of my Cabinet and the National Defense Council, which meets weekly. It’s possible something was misunderstood but she was not misled in any way.”

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Aftermath

The Arroyo hearings would be remembered for touching off upheaval in Rowan’s government and sparking national conversations about patriotism and the left’s relationship with it. Green and leftist SDP backlash to Fortner and Rowan was quickly aired by the Adiran media. This exposed ordinary Adirans to political figures they didn’t normally pay much attention to, and they were voicing starkly negative views of the military and seemingly the nation as a whole. By the end of the day it wasn’t just veterans and their families who were stirred up.

One elderly Civil War vet called into a talk radio show to voice his skepticism. “I didn’t vote for the SDP to have them do this. This is a witch hunt. I mean really, what are these city boys saying? There were secret orders—that no one can find, mind you—to kill women and children? How many of our boys would follow that order? I wouldn’t’ve, my grandson wouldn’t!”

Plans for marches started to materialize on social media. One of the organizers was interviewed by ANBC. He was no older than twenty five, broad-shouldered, wearing a baseball cap, and a brief shot of his hands showed they were filthy. His social media posts were laced with profanity which he tried to restrain himself from using while on camera. “I wanted to enlist since I was a kid, but when I was in middle school I found out I wouldn’t qualify because I’m deaf in one ear. Have been since I was a baby,” he explained. “I was disappointed for a long time, but I went to trade school, got my welders license, even got to apprentice in a plant that did some defense work. I got to pitch in another way I guess. Then…hearing these stuck up little sh—talk about our guys like jackbooted Urdnot grunts, I just think of my buddies who joined up, and the ones who didn’t come back. Makes you just wanna fu—hit somebody.”

A guest on a nightly talk show had it out with the host, drowning out attempts of the other guests to intervene. The exchange, which encapsulated part of the debate somewhat neatly, started with writer Zach Arevalo argued “I think Adirans need to reject these authoritarian notions. When we question the military and the establishment, we’re told we’re unpatriotic.”

The straight-laced host Nick Moss looked bemused and asked “Who told you that?”

“The President today. This is how it starts, you know,” Arevalo asserted.

“No, I don’t know. How what starts?” Moss pressed, leaning forward. His smile had faded.

“The erosion of democracy…”

“Oh here we go,” Moss muttered, rolling his eyes.

“…and its replacement with the military industrial complex. When our institutions come to serve the interests of the military rather than the other way around, our liberty is at risk.”

After a second, Moss retorted “You do realize the military’s keeping Imperial tanks from rolling up Sierra Avenue?”

Arevalo waved a hand and dismissively said “That tired old line is just another way to keep the citizens of this country scared and complacent.”

Moss was incredulous. “No it isn’t! There’s Imperial tanks and bombers on our borders right now. They’ve been trying to destroy us for two decades now. How detached are you from this?”

“They call it blind nationalism for a reason: you can’t see when your country is going down the wrong path. We’re starting on the same path that led to the downfall of Old Ceti.”

“Listen, you can ask folks who lived through the forties: patriotism didn’t blow up Old Ceti, a series of acute political and economic crises did. Maybe with a little more patriotism the country would’ve picked itself up off the floor instead of splintering with its people following every demagogue who came along.”

“What do you call New Ceti if not ultranationalist?” Arevalo said, raising his voice and jabbing a finger in Moss’ direction.

“I call ‘em a bunch of fascists who launched a failed coup. It wasn’t people hanging flags on their houses that caused the Civil War.”

“And how was New Ceti able to contest control of the country? All it had to do was gain the support of enough of the standing army to beat the people down.”

“And you think that’s what the Adiran military is going to do? You’re a younger man. Tell me, was your number ever pulled? Were you called up for service?”

Arevalo stiffened. “That has nothing to do with it.”

“You never served,” Moss concluded from his non-answer. “You’re from Isidium, so your home’s never been threatened directly either. Boy, imagine if people like you had been on the Council. Instead of ‘Who are the militia if not ourselves?’ it would be ‘who are the militia if not uh…those other guys over there?’ This country never would’ve been founded.”

“Yeah yeah, resort to ad hominem when you can’t debate the merits,” Arevalo said, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat.

“No, you’re talking about war and the military but you’ve never seen it up close and clearly haven’t studied it. You enjoy the life you do because other Adirans fight and die for it. Least you can do is be grateful instead of pretending it’s all for nothing.”

Arevalo was shaking his head and looking somewhere offscreen.

Moss pressed on before finally being cut off by a commercial break. “And you’re a writer. I see how they depict soldiers in the media too, like I saw Surface Tension the other day. Those psychos would get rejected by freakin’ draft boards, let alone pass selection.”

This was the political scene unfolding when events from outside the country came knocking.