(OOC: This is all taking place in the (relative) future, immediately after the end of qualifying, so whatever happens in this part of the tournament can be assumed to have already occurred, for good or ill.)
Part One: Little Anna and Father Patrick
In the wake of Cabinda’s fiery death came a new horror for the people of the small state, as an occupying force from West Angola swept in from the south to restore order in their former province. While malice was not intended, at least not beyond that which is inherent in imperialist ventures, several members of the West Angolan military had lost friends or relatives in the Battle of Miczchen Clearing, where the Cabindan strategy of targeting troop carriers had been dubbed a war crime by the West Angolan propaganda machine. As a result, the first several hours of occupation produced at least a dozen isolated atrocities against members of the Cabindan military. Television reports in West Angola either ignored the incidents or blamed them on the various factions in the Cabindan Civil War for which the victims had been fighting, and as such complaints and pleas to Namibe went unanswered. In the capital, however, a whole new battle was raging: a battle for the Queen’s life.
After a reign of fifteen years, the same duration as her father’s, although shorter than that of his predecessor, King Parrish, it seemed that the Queen Mother’s time on the Throne of Sien was coming to an end, as the Royal Doctors publicly proclaimed her vigorous condition but privately agreed with one another that nothing short of a miracle could save the Queen’s life. The disease which ravaged her body was unknown to them—unheard of in the era of modern medicine—and despite all their tests, equipment, and drugs, no signs of improvement had been seen in the months of effort. The only saving grace of the disease was that it did not seem to be communicable in any way, as none of the tests had observed it jumping from one host to another. However, this bright spot created only more confusion, as the disease did not appear to be genetic, which left the brightest medical experts in the country fully at a loss as to how Anna could have contracted it.
The Queen knew, but she would never tell a soul, save one man. Not because she wished to die, or enjoyed seeing her caregivers in the dark, but because she knew that to do so would help little and only speed her death. The same night she had been forced to take to her bed and Father Gaalaas had administered Anointing of the Sick, the inner court believing that she would die, many having not even known of her ailment until she’d collapsed. As the priest leaned over her holding the Chrism, through the hazy fog of a fever, she thought she saw his face change. Too weak to move and too unsure of her own sanity to believe her eyes, Anna said as loudly as her weakened state allowed (little more than a soft whisper), “Who…?”
In response, the not-priest raised a finger to his lips, “Shhh, Your Highness. No one else can see us. You’ve wronged me, little Anna, and you’ve wronged an entire nation. In fact, you’ve wronged two nations, and in harming one you harm the other. My name doesn’t matter, suffice to say I’ve been heavily invested in your nation and the one to the north for the past three decades, and while I’d developed a certain fondness for yours, the pluck of the Cabindans amused me, and I decided to let them beat you to see what they’d do. I have to say, their progress was impressive; oh, Michael Raven was a tad boring as far as politicians go, but he more than made up for with his demagoguery. The only way it could be better would be if another demagogue came along to knife him, and Raymond Hollis neatly provided the extra entertainment. When your special forces operatives came along to add a little cloak-and-dagger espionage to the mix, I was grinning like a Cheshire. The civil war allowed me an opportunity for endless entertainment, everywhere I looked in Cabinda the worst of humanity was on display, with just a smattering of decent people if I was looking for a change.”
Up to this point, his face had the look of a child remembering his or her last birthday, but now it changed, taking on a somewhat darker expression as his eyes looked at Anna accusingly, “But this… this new development you’ve precipitated is too much. I’m sure the occupation will be diverting, but Cabinda under your rule will be boring, no doubt about it, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being bored.”
Anna was confused, feverish, and more than a little frightened, “Wha… what does this…?”
“What does this have to do with you? Everything. It is I who have caused your body to turn against you, as a way of ensuring your cooperation. Every degree of your fever, every cough that ravages your lungs, the pallor of your face, the cramps that make you scream silently, all these and more are my doing, and there is worse in store for you if you do not follow my instructions. I worsened your condition for one night to get your attention, tomorrow you will improve slightly. Then, you will order a full withdrawal from Cabinda, immediately. No more nation-building, no more conflict resolution, and definitely no more of that awful construction in the city. Leave them to kill each other and destroy their nation, or I will kill you even more painfully. If you do everything I say, I may allow you to recover.”
Anna coughed, and she saw blood and spittle land on the not-Priest’s face, which he wiped away with some annoyance. Mustering her strength, the Queen gasped out, “Barbarian. Never.” Then her world was blotted out in white-hot pain as it seemed her organs were both slashing each other with knives and trying to tear themselves out of her body. She opened her mouth, but the pain was too much for her to even scream as she writhed on the mattress. The not-priest chuckled evilly, “That’s just a taste, little Anna. I can make your every waking moment agony still worse than that for the next month, at which point death will seem like a blessing, but even that will be terror and agony, as I will toy with you as you pass through my domain before passing on for as long as I wish. There will be no end to your suffering if you defy me, and in the end I can merely cause what I want to happen to happen anyway. I prefer to give you a chance to do so willingly, however, so please take it for your own good if nothing else.”
Anna gasped again as the pain subsided, and as she blinked she could see the familiar face of her confessor, Father Gaalaas, looking at her with some concern, “Anna? Is there anything you’d like to confess?”
Anna nodded, and one by one her other advisers and doctors streamed out of the room, leaving only the Priest and the Queen, but now their roles were different—they were penitent and confessor, one seeking forgiveness, one standing in for God—and what was said in the next hour left them both terrified of the future.
Star United States 
