NATION

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Rebirth (Closed; Cornellia)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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EsToVnIa
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Ex-Nation

Rebirth (Closed; Cornellia)

Postby EsToVnIa » Mon Jan 23, 2017 9:26 pm

Baanaðaboorg
27 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
7 December, 2016



"It will never pass Parliament, Anne," Aleksaandr reassured the young woman seated beside him and threw the newspaper on the ottoman. "They only barely approved the proposal anyways, look it says right here that it was 751 to 714."

The young man leaned back on the loveseat and absorbed the sunlight that was filtering through the large windows that lined the wall opposite of them. Teacup in hand, he pressed it up against his lips and allowed the warm vapours to wisp up against his face and into his nostrils. Satisfied, he opened his mouth and took a sip. Green tea, while not Aleks’s particular favourite, was the only alternative since his significant other was on another one of her “health crazes.”

"Don't 'Anne,' me... Anne is mother's name, not mine," Anastasia quipped, breaking the silence that had set in the room. She flashed a smile and leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're lucky you're so damn cute."

"Oh, well excuse me Ms. Ana" Aleks sarcastically shot back, reciprocating the woman's playfulness.

Their relationship was a sort of modern fairy tale, not traditional of course as Aleks was the commoner instead of the noble, but he was immensely happy with his present life. It was hard for him to imagine that just a year ago he was just an attache for the Committee for State Security. Eighteen months later, he was dating the ruling Sovereign of the Estovnian Realm. It was both surreal and humbling, something that he reminded his significant other of almost daily.

"Honestly, though Ana. Don't worry about it," He continued, seemingly pleading with her.

She turned to look at Aleks and stared at him with her aquamarine eyes. It was almost like she wanted to absorb every physical feature of the man; his messy dirty blonde hair, his chiselled jaw line, his green eyes, everything. She leaned in again and pressed her lips against his and cupped his cheek with her right hand. Her hand was met with the needle-like feel of stubble that lined Aleks's face and immediately recoiled her hand, causing Aleks to laugh in the middle of their kiss.

"You need to shave, like right now," she quickly said, gently pushing him away.

"You're deflecting, dear."

Ana hated it when he did that. She was used to that by now, and she assumed that Aleks did it without thinking given his career and training with the Committee. Ultimately he was right, though. She was worrying a great deal about the entire matter. When Ana had agreed to relinquish her immediate executive powers a short two years ago, she had hoped that the power-hungry Grand Council was satiated enough to where they would leave her with what little power she kept. She was nothing like her father, she had made sure of that by getting her degree in political science, keeping up with current events - at least enough to maintain a conversation, among other things.

"I'm not agreeing to do it," Ana finally said bluntly. "I refuse to give that..." She paused for a moment. What exactly do you call the most powerful person in the country? A creature who would see you and your entire family put to the flame simply because of the incompetence of your predecessor. "...Man," the word exited her mouth dripping with hatred and contempt, befitting for a man that was Elder Thegn Viggó Lítiingursson. "...that monster..." the word lingered on her tongue. Yes, that word was indeed far better than "man." A man was somebody like Aleks; kind, compassionate, caring. Viggó was a viper, a snake, that slithered and snuck his way to the very top. And like the snake he was, he now had the nation trapped in his vise, and with each passing year, month, day, his grip got tighter and squeezed more and more life out of it. "... any more power." Her body tensed up with anger, her biceps twitching ever so slightly. "Leave us, please" Ana shot at the lone steward, who nodded and immediately walked out through the french doors that guarded the tea room.

It didn't take a genius to see that Aleks had struck a nerve with the Empress. It was unintentional of course, but to him, she was seemingly apathetic about the entirety of the issue. Aleks liked to think that they were very open with each other. Ever since the paper was published announcing what had happened at the Nordic Front Congress, Ana had been uncharacteristically quiet and asocial.

She rose up from the couch with her teacup in hand and began to pace, something she always did when she was upset. Her linen nightshirt loosely hung from her frame, giving Aleks a charming view of his girlfriend as the sunlight illuminated the more intimate parts of her body that were hidden underneath.

"When will they realise that I. Am. Not. Like. My. Father," she shouted, throwing the teacup against the wall. A loud crash was heard only seconds later as the tiny vessel shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. "Now I need a new glass." She collapsed back onto the couch and let out a heavy sigh. "He's not stripping me of who and what I am. This is MY country, MY responsibility... not his, and he is going to have to accept that he needs to share his toy with his senior."

"I have to admit that you're super cute when you get worked up like that. You know how to carefully tread the 'bitchy-bossy line' pretty well," Aleks finally said. "And, if I may, I'd prefer you not to refer to our country as a toy." Ana rolled her eyes while her rose coloured lips formed a smirk. "Annnnndddd there's my girl" Aleks said as he put his arm around her and pulled her in.

"Now I'm all worked up and it's not even 10 o'clock," Ana said, sighing after the fact.

"I think I have a solution to that..." Aleks replied, and pulled her on top of him.





Kostka
33 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
9 December, 2016



Over the past four years since her appointment, Chairwoman of the Committee of State Security Vera Koelhaaltur had settled into her new job well. No longer considered the “new guy,” her scrutiny of details and her experience in foreign relations made her the obvious candidate when her predecessor, Lieutenant General Antoni Kristoforssyn died in a car accident in early August of 2012. Of course she knew that it wasn’t an accident, but rather the cultivation of years of garnering favours and a aspiration for excellence that Vera felt for herself. She knew the senile old bastard would never resign, so Vera had to devise other means of achieving her goal. Luckily for her, he had been a creature of habit and drove the same route to work at everyday so it was easy to arrange his demise. All it took was a few “favours” in exchange for the garbage truck to t-bone his car, a price she deemed entirely worth every pence.

Four years after that fateful day, Vera found herself at the very cusp of her ultimate goal, becoming Elder Thegn. The “Great Game” as she called it was a necessity to learn and master if one expected to survive in the Estovnian government. The dark manifestations of its inner machinery were the deaths of so many aspiring public servants: Valentin Hofmun, Milan Dragossyn, and Zfenomir Arsenijsev to name just a handful. Their deaths were just a reminder to the living that the Great Game is constant and that you can only win by surviving to the next day.

Since her appointment, the entirety of her focus was on the monarchy. In her eyes, it was the physical manifestation of the past; an ancient relic from a bygone era that represents the antithesis of everything Liberationism stands for. Rather this is from her upbringing in Allamunnika or pure idealism is a subject for debate. Being assigned to the royal family as a cadet shortly after she immigrated to Estovnia, she gained an intricate and unique knowledge to how they function. When she assumed a more administrative position within the KSB, she had to rely on her network, or “eyes” as she liked to refer to them as, of palace servants that reported everything to her.

A knock on her door brought her out of her catatonic state-of-trance. Her expansive oak desk was uncharacteristically cluttered and messy. Various reports and documents sprawled out over its polished, shimmery surface. Quickly she reached into the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a prescription bottle of Buspirone and quickly popped two of the pills into her mouth and swallowed. Leaning back into her office chair, she sighed and closed her eyes for a brief precious few seconds.

”Enter,” her voice was coarse as a result of her being relatively silent all morning.

Druga Majornageneral,” the ensign replied, snapping a quick salute to Vera who robotically reciprocated. “Urgent message from the Elder Thegn’s officer, druga.” His polished black boots clacked loudly on the wood flooring of Vera’s office as he approached her desk.

Why couldn’t he just call me. “Yes, yes. Just put it on the top and I’ll get right to it. Thank you.” Now hurry on out. She feigned a smile as the ensign precariously placed the faxed paper on top of a pile of manila folders.

She had to restrain herself from snatching the paper as soon as it was laid down. As soon as the door clicked shut, her hand shot out to grab the paper and her eyes immediately scanned the document. As they usually were, the message was drowned in ambiguity and vague terminology. Thankfully, the Chairwoman had become adept at deciphering the legalese that infested all the correspondence sent her way from the Grand Council for National Progress or the Central Committee of the Nordic Front. As her eyes glossed over the final sentence, she placed it into the industrial paper shredder located to the right side of the desk. Her hand reached over to the phone in the far left corner of the desk and dialled.

”Yes… no, I will not hold… just put me through, idiot, he should be expecting me”

”I would have preferred to talk in person,” the voice said as the receiver came to life.

”Present circumstances currently do not allow that as a possibility, Drugary Viggó,” Her response was seemingly rehearsed. Well-rehearsed at that.

”I assume you saw the news then,” Viggó rhetorically asked. “It barely passed… Barely is unacceptable, Chairwoman. When I appointed you to your position after your predecessors… untimely… demise, I was told that you would get results. For four years you have surpassed all of my expectations and those on the Grand Council…” His voice was cold and distant as his words reached Vera’s ears.

”Than-”

”It was not a compliment. It was an observation, Chairwoman,” Viggó interrupted. “You know what must be done. I need not remind you of what will happen should I not get the results that are needed.”

”Yes… of course, Drugary Viggó” Vera responded before hanging up the phone. And I can’t wait to tell you of what’s going to happen.

She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. Instinctively, she again reached for her lower drawer of the desk and blindly wailed through the darkened crevice until she procured the Buspirone phial once more.

She looked at the top manila folder, one she had precariously labelled as “замок” or “castle.” Inside this seemingly meaningless folder were the names of over 50,000 teachers, intellectuals, politicians, and military officers alongside mostly fabricated charges. The most important of these names were the 714 names of those who voted against removing the monarchy at the 13th Congress of the Nordic Front.

Vera calmly pressed the intercom button on the phone. The machine hissed to life as a weary voice called out.

”Yes, Druga Chairwoman?”

”Send a correspondence to the Standing Committee for Upholding National and Spiritual Harmony. Alert them that “Case Castle” is now in effect. They will understand what it means.” She released the button before her secretary could respond.



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Главнастраница|Варьиня|Axepoн|Mеджународны|Политика|Tргованје|Eдукацијa|Здравјe|Mненје



Standing Committee for Upholding National and Spiritual Harmony announces campaign to "purify state ideology and thinking"
50,000 teachers, intellectuals, politicians, and military officers arrested nationwide in first steps of campaign.
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Marjukka Heminkintykär
10 December, 2016 | Krisuvik, Estovnia





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Two soldiers maintaining order as the arrests were carried out in the Capitol. (AP photo)
Last edited by EsToVnIa on Mon Jan 23, 2017 9:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh

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Postby EsToVnIa » Fri Jan 27, 2017 3:29 pm

Spravědlivosť “Justice Building”
Saint Natalia’s Square 3
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
12 December, 2016



The State Commission for Justice and Order — a blatant oxymoron if there ever was one — was the highest court in the Estovnian Realm. The “tribunal” as it was more commonly referred to was originally an entirely religious court for rooting out Jewish subversives. Like all things in the nation, that changed when Viggó Lítiingursson succeeded Maksimilian Sljusar in 1992. Stripping the Conventry of all but three of its seats on the nine-person council, Viggó uprooted decades of quasi-religious law that had been in place since the National Socialist Agricultural Labourers’ and Workers’ Party won its first majority in 1927. A stalwart opponent of the Conventry and organised religion in general, Viggó merely replaced the Conventry’s influence with his own.

The Tribunal was headquartered in the Spravědlivosť, a colossal stone and brick building allegedly built on a Roman Temple to Justitia. Constructed in the early 1920s, the Spravědlivosť was an impressive building built in the neo-renaissance architectural style. The facade of the building was marked by three mahogany doors underneath a small, green painted roof that jutted out to about three metres. This was enough to shelter people for a brief amount of time during rain or snow, but not a location you’d want to be stuck at for an extended amount of time as was often the case with high-profile cases like today. Above the roof were two grand windows, a great source of natural lighting for the wide open foyer.

The Estovnian government was brutally efficient in its execution of public policies. The self-coup was just the latest of these plots and one that had been years in the making. The codenamed “Case Castle” was the pet project of KSB Director Ljukaneiva and had been the prime focus of her meticulous scrutiny for details. This was not to say that her other duties as director faltered as a result. Being a foreigner in such a high government position was reason enough to sink as much effort as she could in the job. It was an endless cycle of needing to continuously prove oneself to show not only dedication but loyalty to the regime as well.

The black limousine effortless drove along the streets linking the Spravědlivosť with the Kostka. Traffic was hardly ever an issue as the Polisija escort forced the cars and trucks to part before the limousine in an orderly fashion. Vera was always adamant on walking the 6 kilometres between the two buildings but was always told by her security detail that travelling by vehicle was safer. Vera would remark about how walking was safer than driving, claiming “car accidents happen for more often than you think.” As usual, the security detail dismissed her statement as the joke of a paranoid government official. Upon reaching the Spravědlivosť, the police escorts parted ways and the limousine seamlessly travelled down the descending roadway into the parking garage beneath the building.

Parking in the reserved spot for the director of Estovnia’s most powerful government agency, Ljukaneiva exited the limousine and proceeded to the central courtroom. The journey was somewhat delayed by her refusal to open any of the doors herself. Her personal psychiatrist often told her doing little things like opening doors or not washing or sanitising her hands after touching a public phone would help with her disorder but Vera refused. “Germs are dangerous” she’d reply to his statements. “You’re telling me that I am the one with a problem for being afraid of organisms you can’t see and are capable of killing you?”

Luckily for her, the proceedings had yet to start when she reached the chambers. Vera carefully made her way to her usual seat on the farthest left bench of the room. As expected, Artjom Statsjuk (the Chairman of the Committee for Civil Defence) and Vilgot Ekbolhm (Chairman of the Standing Committee for Upholding National and Spiritual Harmony) were in their seats to her left and right respectively. She was not overly fond of Statsjuk, a short, portly man with a balding head and small, thick-lensed glasses. Some, including Statsjuk himself, believed Ljukaneiva had usurped the KSB Director seat from him with the death of Kristoforssyn. He was also one of the few that fully understood the full story on how Kristoforssyn was killed. Still, despite it all, the two managed to form a working relationship. Ekbolhm was an entirely different story. Having served in the Tempesta War, Ekbolhm had proven a valuable ally and mentor to the comparatively young Ljukaneiva. Ekbolhm controlled the most influential domestic committee. More importantly, Ekbolhm shared Vera’s personal beliefs that Viggó had made Estovnia weaker; that Viggó had been more concerned with maintaining power rather than implementing true Liberationism in Estovnia.

“Come to see the fruits of your labour, comrade Chairwoman?” the stern voice of Statsjuk was the first to reach her ears.

“I am hardly the only one that can take credit for the work of Comrade Ekbolhm,” Vera joked.

Even after 15 years, her Slavonic was still dripping with a heavy Allamunnic accent. It was something she was no longer self-conscious about but she often wondered what other people thought of it when they heard her speak. It had gotten far better of course than when she first immigrated to Estovnia in 2002. Slavonic was called a “bridge language” by the senior sociologists and linguists in the Estovnian Realm. She didn't know what exactly that meant but she had deduced that it was the "original language" before splitting into Rietumish, Dewedish, and Neklturnyan.

“Humble as always, Comrade Ljukaneiva,” Ekbolhm said. He paused briefly to check his pocket watch, a small silver medallion that allegedly had been in his family for several generations. Whenever somebody asked Ekbolhm how his great-great-great-great grandfather got it, he had made a habit of spinning the most elaborate tale involving chivalry and other outdated and antiquated ideas that seemed to change every time Ekbolhm told the story. “But yes, now isn’t the time to discuss any of that… I’m sure Comrade Stasjuk would be more than willing to accompany me with yourself for a meeting after this shit show gets finished.”

A silence fell over the room as the first of the long list of arrested politicians was brought in. Shortly afterwards, the nine chairpersons of the Tribunal entered and the proceedings began. The Chief Magister of the Tribunal was Stefan Kornijenkev, a long time supporter of Elder Thegn Viggó and considered a staunch party hardliner. It was no surprise when he was appointed Chief Magister of the Tribunal following the 2005 elections.

“Let’s get the proceedings started, shall we?” Kornijenkev declared. “Name and age of the accused”

“Elenora Gjlling, MP for Astmar, 62” was the proud reply of Gjlling. She took off her glasses and methodically cleaned them with a handkerchief.

“You are charged with treason against Her Most Holy, Anastasia IV, and the spreading of counter-revolutionary ideas,” Kornijenkev announced to the chambers. “How do you respond to these accusations?”

“If standing up to that thug is a crime then I’m guilty as charged,” Gjlling quipped back. Her voice was eerily calm given the circumstances.

“So you admit to the crimes?” Kornijenkev’s response was uncharacteristic for him. The usually stern and commanding voice showed just the faintest hint of surprise at Gjlling’s response.

“The crime fabricated by his Allamunnic whore or the crime of nonconformity, Magister?”

“Add new charge: slandering a government official” Kornijenkev’s voice had returned to normal. He cleared his throat and proceeded. “Representative Gjlling, you are found guilty of treason against Her Most Holy’s government counter-revolutionary ideas, and slandering a government official. You are hereby sentenced to death, effective immediately.”

Vera leaned back in her chair as Gjlling was dragged out of the courtroom through one of the side rooms. It was going to be a long day.



Kostka “KSB Headquarters”
33 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
12 December, 2016


“The man is more focused on being in control than running the goddamn country!”

Ekbolhm was marching around the expansive, if plain, office of Ljukaneiva, gesticulating wildly with his hands and spouting profanities left and right. Ljukaneiva’s office at the KSB was, ironically enough, the safest place for the three officials to meet and discuss their dissatisfaction with Viggó and the sad state of affairs that Estovnia presently found itself in. Statsjuk and Vera calmly sat around the round table in the far corner of the room, drinking their tea that Vera’s secretary had brought them. On the left side of the table, which matched Vera’s desk, was a portrait of Jirki Toivainen in his iconic military uniform.

“Do you know why that portrait is hung exactly there, Vilgot?” Vera calmly asked when Ekbolhm had seemingly finished his tirade. Not waiting for a response, Vera pressed on with her spiel. “Lítiingursson had it hung there when he assumed this position back in 1983. Party Secretary Hajduk told him that it was in this room that the Eternal Chairman and his inner circle laid out the very first manifesto for Liberationism. Anybody that understands history would have known that that was a load of bullshit, Toivainen began working on it at Parliament.”

She paused to take a sip of her tea while the two men gave her puzzled looks.

“We are not the only ones who share this sentiment,” Vera continued flatly. “But it would be a fool’s errand to thrash about blindly like kittens tossed into the river. Castle allows us to assess the playing field more clearly now. Lítiingursson has far more enemies now than ever before and it would be wise for us to take advantage of this situation.”

Castle...” Statsjuk spoke up. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself with it… perhaps too good. Surely there are none who would support us now that they’re all dead are waiting to be killed.”

“You think all those arrested were solely dissidents?” Vera chuckled. “There are more Elder Thegn supporters on that list than actual dissidents, Artjom, some of them even in the upper echelons of government. Lítiingursson made the mistake of culling even those who voted for his proposal for the Grand Council.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I didn’t have to. He gave me the groups and I merely complied with what was asked of me… I may have taken his orders a bit vaguely but ultimately they were compliant with his directive.”

“Then the immediate concern right now is who will be a suitable replacement for the Elder Thegn.”

Ekbolhm had finally addressed the elephant in the room. Vera had to control herself to keep from bursting out with a condescending “Of course it should be me!” That would be counterproductive to her goals. She was confident that her co-conspirators were sane enough to realise that she was clearly the best candidate among the three of them to replace Lítiingursson. Ljukaneiva already had the de facto successor position as director of the KSB after all. There was one thing that was against her, however. She was a foreigner, having immigrated to Estovnia in 2002 just as Grimmeburger had just begun purging the officer corps. Being a dedicated supporter of Grimmeburger’s predecessor made Estovnia the natural destination for Vera to escape the purges. It was a big hurdle to overcome but it was not impossible. Her zealotry and radicalism was part genuine but also part act to prove to her adopted compatriots that she held no conflict of interest between the Allamunnic States, she even went so far as to change her name from her birth name “Faaryna Koelhaatur” to her present one. That had more to do with protecting herself from the initial purges than anything, however.

“I’m far too old and impatient to be Elder Thegn,” Statsjuk’s voice snapped Vera out of her daydream and back to reality. “I deal with enough paperwork with the CCD as is. There’s far too much for the Elder Thegn.”

Ekbolhm shot Statsjuk a quick look. Vera pretended not to notice and instead impassively sipped her tea. Statsjuk returned an almost defeated look to the Chairman and slowly looked down at the table as Ekbolhm cleared his throat.

“Comrade Chairwoman,” Ekbolhm’s voice was grave and serious, fully aware of the weight his words were carrying. “You are young, the youngest out of all of us on the Central Committee in fact, and you are charismatic. Our younger citizens will have no issue getting behind an Elder Thegn who is only a few years older than they are. You continually show a great sense of civil service to not only the state, but the citizens that our state protects, educates, and nurtures. We…” he motioned to Statsjuk, “would be fools to nominate one of ourselves.”

“It appears that I have been nominated then,” Vera said cooly. She had become a master of masking her emotions and it was at times like these that she was glad she had. “Now we move on to our real task of trying to garner sufficient support for this motion. I believe tomorrow after the Central Committee meeting will be a good time to do so. It is time to set this coup in motion.”
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh

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EsToVnIa
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Founded: Jun 16, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby EsToVnIa » Thu Feb 02, 2017 5:44 pm

Palace of Hfaaneiri
Saint Natalia’s Square 9
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
13 December, 2016



The Central Committee was the de facto legislative organ for the Estovnian Realm. Formed in 1982, it was the highest praesidium for the Nordic Front which had only been create a mere four years earlier. The Grand Council for National Preservation was by all accounts merely an extension of the Central Committee and in many ways just a visible face for the Estovnian public to see. The Grand Council was the de jure executive branch but again this position was filled by the Central Committee. The Committee, officially christened “Central Committee for All Estovnians” (Estovnian in this case referring to all the Germanic, Slavic, and Baltic peoples in Bergoria), is the beating heart of the machinations of the Estovnian political machine.

Ljukaneiva was one of the very few women serving on the Central Committee, the other four women being Vicars Katla Zelenkeiva and Thiri Faalla who only got their seats by being on the GCNP, Sister Marja Ketolaa of the Lady of Eternal Victory charity foundation, and Major Viktorja Kopriveiva who was an adjunct to Ljukaneiva but really served more as Ljukaneiva’s bodyguard. Both Vicar Zelenkeiva and Faalla had been appointed directly by Anastasia, who under Estovnian law served as Hierophant of the Conventry as Victoria XIX. This was not to say that the young Empress had made that decision entirely on her own accord, however. In return for keeping him on assignment once Vera had learned of the blossoming romantic interest, Ljukaneiva had used Aleksaandr to “convince” Anastasia to appoint Zelenkeiva and Faalla to the Grand Council. Similarly, Sister Marja was also to some degree in debt to Ljukaneiva.

The three women who actually held an ounce of meaningful power on the Central Committee would hardly be enough to coup the man who has held and maintained power since 1988. For this, Vera had to rely on the personal webs of Ekbolhm and Statsjuk. This was not something she was overly comfortable with, but she had worked hard to befriend the two men over the last four years and was at the very least confident that the men would follow through and pull their weight.

“Your tea, Comrade Chairwoman,” Viktorja placed the porcelain cup and saucer on the oak table in front of Vera.

Her seat was relegated to being with the other women. Vicar Zelenkeiva and Vicar Faalla sat on her far right while Sister Ketolaa sat on her left. Across from her sat Statsjuk, Ekbolhm, and the chairmen of the Revolutionary Army, Navy, and other Defence committees. Six chairs to her right was where Elder Thegn Lítiingursson sat, at the head of the oak, modular conference table as one would have expected. Behind the Elder Thegn’s seat was a Natalian cross with a portrait of Jirki Toivainen placed above it, a symbolic reminder that the Estovnian state, and more importantly The Party, was above the ambiguity and frivolous morality of religion.

“Yes, thank you, Vikky,” Vera gave a friendly smile as Kopriveiva retreated to one of the chairs located against the wall.

The entirety of the Central Committee rose from their chairs as Lítiingursson entered the room. After the usual pleasantries, he took his usual seat and motioned the rest of the Central Committee to take theirs. The weekly meetings were fairly routine, something Vera caught onto early on shortly after she was appointed. The committee would discuss the agenda compiled for that week by the Deputy Minister and voting on such matters when necessary. Unanimous consent was an important principle in Estovnian politics and the operating of the Central Committee was no different. If nobody spoke up against a proposal, then said proposal would simply pass and move on to be rubber stamped by parliament. Vera had carefully constructed this week’s agenda to ensure rifts would form between Lítiingursson and his supporters and those that rather see him removed. The meeting had progressed smoothly and without any inconvenience until Vera strategically grouped Foreign Policy and increasing the 2017 Fiscal Year defence and KSB budgets to be discussed back-to-back. She hoped, at the very least, this would cement an alliance between herself, Statsjuk, and Ekbolhm, and the various defence chairmen.

“Our foreign policy will continue to be as it has been for the last twenty years,” Lítiingursson addressed the assembly before him with a calm yet authoritative tone of voice. “We cannot shift our focus externally until the seditious elements in the bureaucracy have been thoroughly and swiftly dealt with…” he paused to take a sip of water. “Then, and only then, will we be prepared as a nation to exert ourselves against the zionist puppets and the Bolsheviks.”

Vera raised her hand. “May I speak, Comrade Elder Thegn?” Lítiingursson slightly nodded as he sat down and Vera rose up from her chair.

“Thank you, Comrade Elder Thegn. I would like to raise the concern that Estovnia cannot continue on this present foreign policy path.” She briefly paused and she caught a glimpse of Lítiingursson scowling. She knew that he had expected her to back him up with the foreign policy as Deputy Minister. “Our Auspicious Realm is politically isolated. We are surrounded to the north, west, and south by the political manifestation of Jewish-influence on Estovnian peoples. To our east are not Bolsheviks like you claim, but a potential military and political ally that quite possibly acknowledges the zionist transgressions against Bergoria and the Estovnian people that inhabit it.”

“What exactly are you proposing, Comrade Chairwoman?” the voice of Chairman Demydenko broke the silence that had settled over the room.

“I am proposing that we should cast aside ideologies for the mean time and entertain the idea of having talks with Rietumimark and the Eesti. Estovnia cannot survive in its current state continuing on this path of apathy for the world around it.”

“If you’re finished with your hawkish posturing, Comrade Chairwoman, then I believe it is time for us to vote on this matter,” Lítiingursson announced. “While I am against such measures, I will out of respect for the machinations of democracy, proceed with this… plan Comrade Ljukaneiva proposed should it be the consensus.”

Lítiingursson shot a glance at Demydenko (Chairman of the Standing Committee for International Affairs and Relations) who meekly avoided his gaze. Not willing to accept defeat so readily, Lítiingursson let the silence go on for several minutes before finally submitting a defeated nod.

“We shall table how to proceed down this path another time. I believe defence and intelligence budgets for the coming fiscal year are next on the agenda, so please address the Committee about such matters, Comrade Chairwoman.”

“Thank you. To coincide with the approaching fiscal year, I believe that I should first go over the present economic status of the Estovnian Realm. Economists expect the Estovnian GDP to grow by 6.1% based on economic trends from the last three quarters. Because of the growing threats abroad, I believe it would not be unreasonable for a twenty-five percent budget increase for the KSB, KGO (Committee for Civil Defence), and Standing Committee for National Defence. These agencies have seen budget increases since 2010 and I believe that twenty-five percent is more than reasonable given the time lapse since the last increase. Coinciding with the recent purification operation, I feel that it is almost a necessity to have the budgets increase so as to maintain effectiveness in rooting out the counter-revolutionary, seditionist, and other unwanted tumours that plague the moral well-being of the Auspicious Realm.”

Lítiingursson held up his hand, causing Ljukaneiva to stop her spiel. “Twenty-five percent, Comrade Chairwoman? All based on economic extrapolation that has yet to even be finalised?”

“It has been six years since the last budget increases, Comrade Elder Thegn. The strength and well-being of the military is imperative for the continuation of the revolutionary ideals laid out by the Eternal Chairman. The Estovnian Realm cannot possibly continue to exist as a bastion of democracy and liberty if the very institution which permits us to carry on with this new age of philosophical and moral enlightenment is withering away and decaying. How can the revolution be exported to the Estovnians in Arthurista and Demphor if the navy is rusting in its ports? How can the Estovnians in the Allammunic States, Deweden, and Nekulturnya be liberated if the Revolutionary Army is technologically outdated and antiquated?” She carefully left out Rietumimark and Estoni. While ethnically they were both Estovnian, it would have been counterproductive if she included both the nations in the list.

Lítiingursson shook his head and sighed. “Twenty-five percent is an outrageous proposal, Comrade Chairwoman. Given your earlier remarks about Rietumimark and Estoni, I am surprised that you’re not advocating for trying to liberalise relations with the FAS, Arthurista, and Demphor.-”

Ekbolhm interrupted Lítiingursson. “Jaal was the only good leader the FAS had, removing him removed any kindling the fires of Liberationism could have ignited. The Progressives would sooner sell themselves to the Bolsheviks than be open to talks, Comrade Elder Thegn.”

“Fine, fine. We’ll put it to vote then. Shall we assume that the ludicrous budget increase is approved then?” Lítiingursson was visibly annoyed by now.

Seeing this, some of the older members of the Central Committee voiced their disapproval with the budget increase, causing a triumphant smirk to form on the face of Lítiingursson. Vera was hardly disappointed at the result of the vote. In fact, she was sure that it was never going to pass. Ekbolhm shot her a quick glance and a nod, the signal that they had designated to indicate “all’s going to plan.” In this case, it was to let Vera know that the defence chairmen were displeased that Lítiingursson is actively refusing to allow the military to modernise and become stronger; a strong military being one of the core tenets of Liberationism and a tenet Toivainen had directly linked to having a strong state. Having actively shown her wish for a stronger military, it would only be a matter of time before Levid (Chairman of the Standing Committee of National Defence) would be asking for a private meeting.

“If there is nothing else on the agenda, then I believe this meeting is over.”
Last edited by EsToVnIa on Thu Feb 02, 2017 6:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh

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EsToVnIa
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Ex-Nation

Postby EsToVnIa » Sun Feb 05, 2017 7:02 pm

Kostka
33 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
16 December, 2016



Vera had been busy since the Central Committee meeting concluded a short three days earlier. As she had expected, Levid had contacted her and the two discussed a variety of things. Although the Defence Chairman did not say outright that Lítiingursson needed to go, he listened to Vera’s grievances towards Lítiingursson and “the old guard” and had found himself nodding in agreement by the time Vera detailed what needed to be done and what “sweeping reforms” she was going to do once she took over. That was one thing she had made a habit of when discussing with her unofficial co-conspirators. Vera didn’t use the word “if” when talking about ousting Lítiingursson, instead she used “when.” Nobody had corrected her about it or even mentioned it to her.

The knock on her door startled her somewhat. Her oak desk was much more presentable today than it had been in the weeks leading up to "Case Castle." The clean, polished surface shimmered under the fluorescent light bulb from the desk lamp, creating a glare at certain angles. Framed photographs, mainly of her six-year-old daughter, were positioned along the perimeter facing the door. The table that had served as the impromptu meeting area for the past week or so had been removed. In its place, three armchairs and a small ottoman intended for glasses had been moved in.

“Comrade Chairwoman,” Viktorja’s voice called out as the door creaked open and the woman entered. “Chairman Demydenko is here as you requested”

“Yes, thank you, leytenant,” Vera replied cordially. She rose up from the office chair behind her desk and smoothed out her blouse. Unless officially required to dress in uniform, Vera opted to wear just the standard utilitarian black KSB uniform with her rank and the KSB insignia on both her shoulders.

“Comrade Ljukaneiva,” Demydenko entered the room, himself dressed in an imported blue blazer with a clean white shirt and matching tie.

Vera motioned the Foreign Affairs chairman to one of the armchairs that were in the corner. “If you would, please.”

She walked over and sat in the chair directly opposite of Demydenko, who had predictably chosen the one closest to the door. Shortly after the two were seated, Vera’s secretary brought in refreshments for the two and set the teacups on the ottoman. After being politely thanked, the man was escorted out of the room by Viktorja, who closed the door tightly.

“So, Vera, I assume this meeting has to do with setting the agenda for the next committee meeting?” Demydenko said, reaching for his teacup.

“Sorry to disappoint, Aleksej, but it had more to do with this-” she motioned for Viktorja to place a recording device on the ottoman.

“I’m afraid I don’t-” Demydenko was interrupted by the recording being played.

“Both of them need to be replaced. Demydenko owes his position to me… same with Ljukaneiva or whatever she calls herself these days. Demydenko would still be understudy to Premmieks down in Jorvik if it wasn’t for me appointing him Foreign Affairs Chairman…”

The expression Demydenko displayed was all Vera needed for her to know that he had become entangled and helpless in her web. “How… never mind, I know how, but why share?” He was very poorly hiding his anger.

Vera impassively took a sip of tea. “Because, comrade Chairman, we both have a common enemy now. Lítiingursson. Must. Go. The sooner the better the way I see it.”

She leaned back and let the words sink in. Demydenko was a long time supporter of Lítiingursson and one of his biggest allies on the Central Committee. Having secured Levid, and by extension, the Commissars of the Revolutionary Army and Navy, just yesterday, Demydenko’s informal allegiance would be enough to begin work on the next steps. Between Statsjuk and Ekbolhm, the two Conventry vicars, Levid and the other military chairmen, and hopefully now Demydenko, she was confident that she had the necessary power base and support that would allow for a quick, hopefully painless, transfer of power from Lítiingursson to herself.

Demydenko was silent for a few moments, internally processing not just the recording but what Vera had just said to him. Actively conspiring against Lítiingursson was practically treason nowadays, but if the Director of the KSB was the mastermind behind it then surely there wasn’t much harm in being a participant. Sharing the same opinion of Vera that many of the other older Central Committee members had, it was far better for Demydenko to be with her than against her.

“And who do you propose for a replacement, Comrade Chairwoman?” He asked despite already knowing the answer.

“Comrades Statsjuk and Ekbolhm have agreed that I would be the most suitable replacement for Lítiingursson. I share the same mindset as them, to answer that question. I don’t believe that there would be a better candidate other than myself.”

I wonder what she had on those two that made them agree to that. He thought as he sipped his tea. “Who else is involved?”

“Aside from the two I already mentioned, Comrades Levid, Krasneiv, Suvorin, Tatarintsev, Stepanof, and Kleppe, and their Graces Zelenkeiva and Faalla. After the blatant power play Lítiingursson played, I believe that Her Holiness can be convinced by the little pet she has now to publically display discontent with Lítiingursson.”

Pet? What the hell is that supposed to mean? “So you’re making promises now just like Lítiingursson did?”

“You very well know that unlike Lítiingursson I will at least deliver mine, Tima,” She addressed Demydenko as a friend, using the diminutive form of Timur. “Who would replace Lítiingursson? The two most capable candidates have handed it over to me, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same had I not been in their shoes. Estovnia under Lítiingursson has rotted away. The termites of individualism and liberalism are weakening the very foundation of society. What Estovnia needs now more than ever is a return to the likes of Toivanen and Njallsson, perhaps even a new ‘Iron Man’ of Estovnia. I fully believe that we as a people and society are born to greatness, and as an immigrant, it’s sickening that there are those who were born and raised here that would rather see Estovnia fall to the likes of the Gentry and NCTO, Tima.”

She shrugged. “At the very least, look at it like this. Statsjuk, Ekbolhm, and I will be the ones putting our heads on the line… at least we are willing to do something to save Estovnia from Lítiingursson's misguided liberalism and softness. If things go wrong then you can merely oust me and elect one from your number. If you prefer yourself to me, then I’ll gladly throw my support and the support of the others behind you. If not, then I suggest you find the balls you seemingly lost when you got appointed Chairman of Foreign Affairs, Tima, and commit yourself to someone who is willing to act.”

Demydenko was initially taken aback, especially when the normally polite and respectful Vera brought in his apparent lack of masculinity. By the end of it, however, he was nodding in agreement. “So there is some truth to the rumours then, you certainly are determined for this.” And I’m fairly certain that I would not be walking out of this room alive if I refused. “And what of Lítiingursson? And the other older members of the committee that support him?”

Vera placed her cup down and gave a slight smile. “They have options, of course. They can retire with dignity and the knowledge that the Estovnian people still love them, or I can drag them through the mud. The choice is really theirs.”

“Through the mud? I’m not sure I quite under-”

She interrupted him. “Refusal to accept defeat puts the Estovnian people and government at risk. They will be arrested for ‘Endangering the Estovnian People’ by the KSB and them and their families will find themselves atop of pyre in Saint Natalia’s Square.”

“So you already have a plan then?”

“Of course but with all due respect, Tima, I believe that you don’t need to know about it. I have already conferred with Levid and have planned an appropriate course of action.”

“Right, of course,” he rose from the chair. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave then.”
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh

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EsToVnIa
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Ex-Nation

Postby EsToVnIa » Sat Feb 11, 2017 8:56 pm

Baanaðaboorg
27 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
19 December, 2016



“Your Worship,” the servant’s voice called out after knocking on the door. The older man who was with the young girl gave her a stern look. “Right…” the younger girl mumbled. “Ana, ma’am, it’s nearly noon.”

Without warning, the older gentleman opened the door and entered the room. The gentleman, Ulf Walhgren, was Anastasia’s personal secretary and had known the twenty-five-year-old woman since the day she was born. He proceeded to flail open the curtains, letting in the sunlight from a rare sunny winter day enter the messing bedroom. The sunlight from the windows cast directly onto the bed, causing the figure in it to stir.

“Ana, you have a meeting with Vicar Laksglieva in two-and-a-half hours. It would be best if you got up and prepared,” Walhgren said.

She groaned and rolled on her side. “Yes, yes. Thank you, Ulf.” She waved her hand dismissively at them and got up in bed.

Her head was killing her on account of the half bottle of Nekulturnyan peach flavoured vodka she drank last night at the Christmas party. She stood up and nearly lost her balance. Shit, I’m not still drunk, am I? She thought to herself as she regained her balance. No, my head wouldn’t be killing me if I was still drunk. Walking over to her closet, she put on a plain, rose coloured, cotton bra. The harder part was picking out a decent enough outfit that would, as both her mother and Ulf put it, “reflect the sacredness of the position and ideals that you represent.” This meant nothing flashy, revealing, and was modest, or as Ana put it, nothing with personality. Ultimately, she settled on a light blue, frilled dress with a cream half sweater.

How her hair was done was another contentious issue. Again, it had to be in a style that was “acceptable and representative for both a Hierophant of the Church and a Sovereign of the nation.” If she hadn’t drunk so much the previous night and had woken up at a decent time, then perhaps she could have had enough time for her stylist to do her hair. Thanks to the lack of time, she settled to do her deep brown hair in a messy bun. Jewellery was out of the question since it represented wealth and the Hierophant was supposedly a position of modesty.

When the hour came, Ana hurriedly walked down to the Tea Room. Ulf, who was patiently waiting for his liege to arrive, opened the oak door to the tea room when he heard the frantic clicking of Ana’s shoes on the cherry wood flooring.

“You’re ten minutes late. Vicar Laksglieva has been patiently waiting for you to be ready.” He announced as she entered the room.

“Not now, Ulf” Ana retorted, and brushed right past him.

The Tea Room was a modest-sized room that had been constructed by Ana’s great-great grandfather, Emperor Andraj-Maksimilian II. Four stained glass windows depicting the now-mythical tale of the Varangian Conquest of Estovnia lined the wall farthest from the wall. The mid-afternoon sun lit up the room in a brilliant display of blues, reds, yellows, and greens as it entered through the windows. The furniture contained two chairs and couch, aligned in a way where the couch faced the windows, with both chairs facing perpendicularly to the couch. The furniture itself was rather plain, eggshell white fabric with black legs and black satin throw pillows. Like usual when she had an appointment with somebody, Ana sat down on the right cushion of the couch. Once she was situated, she pushed a button on the coffee table in front of the couch to let Ulf know that he could now go retrieve the vicar.

A few seconds after Ana had pushed the button, the door opened and the elderly figure of Vicar Katja Laksgrieva entered. The vicar, who Ana had always assumed was in her late seventies or early eighties was dressed in the religious habit not too dissimilar from a Fabrian Catholic nun. She wore a deep maroon tunic that hung loosely from her slender figure. Embroidered golden flames, with gold flake actually being embedded in the fabric itself, lined the bottom third portion of the garment and shimmered as she walked. On top of her head, she wore a black cornette typical of the Sisters of the Incarnate Word and Blessed Sacrament. The vicar, holding a position similar to that of Fabrian Catholic cardinal, had been the personal cleric for the Royal Family since Ana’s birth, ensuring that the to-be empress would be well-versed in Natalian theology when the eventual day of her being elected as Hierophant arrived.

“Your Worship,” the vicar said to Ana, genuflecting as she did.

Ana smiled in return. Organised religion creeped her out, more so being the head of such an institution. She was religious, though, or at least she did believe in the philosophical idea that there was a higher power than herself. Whether or not this was the Christian God is up for debate. Her philosophy with such was people should worship whoever or whatever they chose to, which was reflected when she issued the Treatise of Vijev in 2015 that legalised the worship of non-Natalian faiths.

“You wanted to speak with me, your worship?” Laksgrieva’s tone was almost motherly when speaking to Ana.

“Yes, your grace, but in my capacity as empress,” Ana replied. Dealing with the Conventry was one of the select few times where she followed formalities. “I heard that your order was closing down ten schools in Helgafell and Follur, is that right?”

“Yes, why do you ask, your worship?”

“Well, how much do you need so you can keep the schools open for at least another year?” She asked, resting her hands in her lap.

“Ana…” Laksgrieva’s voice trembled slightly. “One of them is a negro only school, while the others are in poor farming villages, it’s not trivial that they remain open, dear.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “One of them could be a school for purple people as far as I care, ma’am, an education is still an education. How much do you need to keep them open and to buy the coloured school new textbooks and everything because I can’t imagine they’re using up-to-date materials.”

“I… can’t say,” the vicar stammered, “At least ₭2,1 million”

“Okay…” Ana said, getting out a cheque book. Picking up a pen, she wrote out the cheque and held it out to Laksgrieva. “And done.”

Laksgrieva took the cheque and held it out in front of her as if she didn’t believe it was real. “You’re just like your father, you know.”

“It’s Christmas and it’s the right thing to do, nothing more than that.” Ana replied, flashing a smile. “There are a few other things I’d like to discuss with you, however…”



Kostka
33 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
22 December, 2016



Winter had come fast and hit hard, like it usually did. Krisuvik’s location on the Tempesta generally meant that rather than get bombarded with snowfall like the interior of the country, it got freezing rain and sleet. The worst part of the Krisuvik winter wasn’t the precipitation but the constant clamminess of damp humidity that clung to you and seeped deep into your body and hung there well after you entered a building to warm up. Because of the abundance of freezing precipitation, the sidewalks and streets crunched with every footstep due to the overzealous salting to prevent blankets of ice from forming. Salt only did so much, though, and as the nation crept closer towards the week long Christmas-New Year’s lull, the near-constant bombardment was finally starting to overcome the efforts of man.

Yet for the work of the KSB and its constituent security agencies, the lull the rest of the country experiencing just meant that it had to be more ever more vigilant. This was a job for Vera’s subordinates, however. She had much bigger fish to fry.

“February 1st is our deadline.”

Vera along with Demydenko and Ekbolhm were sitting in her office. Unlike previously meetings where they had sat around the table in the corner, Vera had remained behind her desk with the two men sitting in in the two office chairs placed in front. This was done on purpose, of course. The time for treating them as equals was passed once they had agreed to support her in replacing Litingursson; now it was merely about establishing her dominance over her co-conspirators to prevent any backlash once he was ousted. It was a slippery-slope, while she was ultimately still reliant on their power, Ekbolhm because of his ties with Levid and the other defence chairmen and Demydenko because of his ties with the older members of the Central Committee, she still needed to ensure that they would not use backing the coup as leverage to get what they want once Vera was properly installed.

“I agree, it should happen before the Centennial Celebration,” Ekbohlm agreed with Vera. “I can’t think of a better time to introduce our new Elder Thegn than on the hundred year anniversary of the White Revolution.”

“Actually, I was thinking it might be appropriate to revert the title back to ‘First Minister’” Vera stated. “The moral, spiritual, and ideological rebirth of the nation calls for the end of revisionism. The end of the Liberal Era should be marked with an end to the liberal terminology.”

Ekbolhm chuckled. “Spoken like a true politician.”

“I suppose then with the changes to that, they’ll be other changes as well,” Demydenko tentatively asked.

When he and Vera met just last week, she made it seem like there were going to be just minute policy changes. This sudden talk of ending the “Liberal Era,” while deep down he knew was ultimately good, made him feel presently uneasy. Vera’s cold, calculative nature only worsened his uneasiness.

“Yes, Tima,” Vera responded. “I believe it’s time to stop talking about if[i/], and now begin talking about [i]after.” She paused to take a sip of tea. “After reverting the title from Elder Thegn to First Minister, I will be planning on asking some of the older Central Committee members to retire. Many of them have been there as long as Litingursson, if not longer. They have done their patriotic duty to the nation and it is time for them to step down with full honours as heroes of the Nordic Front and of the Estovnian people.”

“And who exactly are you considering asking to step down?” Demydenko asked.

“Chairmen Torwalds, Ekmun, Yartsiev, Susnin, Tseratsel, Siwaskiev, Durejs, Liepkjala, Birz… and you, Tima.”

Ekbolhm looked down as Vera listed the names. She discussed this list with him a few days ago and he had mentioned that it might have been a good idea to add Demydenko to the list. The man had been serving as Foreign Affairs Chairman since 1988 and had largely constructed the current Estovnian foreign policy of “peaceful co-existence.” If Vera truly wanted to accomplish her the foreign policy plan that she had laid out in the weekly Central Committee meeting, then Ekbolhm had told her that her biggest opponent was not Litingursson, but Demydenko. Vera was uncharacteristically hesitant at first when Ekbolhm proposed this to her, Demydenko was crucial in maintaining support from the older members, but she knew he was right. Demydenko would have to go.

“Me? Why the hell am I on that list?” Demydenko was seething but he managed to keep his voice at a respectable level.

“With all due respect, Comrade Demydenko,” Vera was quick to respond. Better to snuff out this flame before it could spread. “You have served the nation for 29 years in your official capacity as Foreign Minister. You have thwarted Bolshevik interests in Deweden in 2005 and ushered in a period of peace so that Estovnia may internally build and purify itself. For these two reasons alone, the Estovnian people are forever indebted to you. However, Tima, your policy of peaceful co-existence has allowed us to stagnate. We have become stagnant as a government, economically stagnant, and stagnant as a society.”

She wanted to say far harsher things. That he was doing just as much harm as Litingursson’s selfishness or as much as harm as having that idealist, liberal child empress sitting on the throne. She needed to get him cooperative enough to at least consider the deal that she was offering him, and offer all the other government members on that list including Litingursson. He had shown his willingness to stand up to Litingursson by not voicing an opinion against her proposed foreign policy but he was still too much of a wildcard beyond the immediate goal of getting power.

Demydenko turned his head sharply to Ekbolhm, who had been impassively sipping his tea the entire time. “You knew about this, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, I did, Tima,” Ekbolhm said with just the slightest tinge of guilt in his voice. “You’ve been doing this nearly as long as I have, it’s time to retire and start to relax.”

“You’ll be given a fair retirement package, Comrade Demydenko,” It was now or never. “You’ll be given a nice retirement estate down in Voronovka. I’ve never been down there myself, but I’ve been told that’s far nicer than up here.”

“And if I don’t take this deal?” Demydenko asked. He had a pretty decent idea of what the answer was going to be.

“You know what will happen if you refuse, Comrade Demydenko,” Vera’s tone had shifted from arguably warm and friendly back to its normal dagger-like consistency. “I personally do not care if you die, but I would hate to see Kasandra and your son and his family die as well. So, at the very least, accept the deal just so I don’t have to have them arrested as well.”

“You’re bluffing,” He got up from his chair and started walking towards the door.

Vera pressed a button under her desk. Shortly afterwards, the door swung open and two KSB agents entered the room, pointing their carbines at Demydenko, who froze in his tracks.

“Just take the deal, Tima,” Ekbolhm said. He was seemingly unphased by the events unfolding before him. He knew Vera was ruthless, they had been friends for quite some time after all, but this was something else for him.

Demydenko let out a deep, defeated sigh. “Fine. I’ll take the deal.”

“I feel this should go without saying, Tima, but if you prove to be uncooperative then the deal is understandably, I hope, off the table.”

“Yes, of course.” His voice was but a whisper now.

Vera clasped her hands. “Good. Now that that is settled, we can continue onward…”
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh

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Allamunnic States
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Posts: 535
Founded: Jun 28, 2011
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Allamunnic States » Mon Feb 13, 2017 9:05 pm

The Despot's Palace, Federal District of Roan
Federation of Allamunnic States, December 19th, 2016


Sofya Rudulf had been the president-elect of the Federation of Allamunnic States for around a month when her presence was requested at the Despot's Palace. The building had not served its original purpose in over fifteen years, now, with its last resident, Eddard Jaal, now in the ground, and had been converted to offices for high bureaucrats associated with the executive back in 2005. In many regards, the Federation was still administered from the converted palace. The building in some ways more resembled a fortress than a palace, Sofya thought as her car approached the building. Perhaps, she reflected, because it had had to be. The Despots at many times had been far from popular. More of them had been assassinated than not.

And she was the first leader of the Federation that had been chosen directly by the people, elected, not selected, in its entire history. The momentousness of the occasion was not lost on the former union organizer. Even though she had not yet been sworn in, she knew that the outgoing administration, that of the nation's second-longest-serving leader to date, wanted to make sure that her administration and its progressive allies would hit the ground running.

She glanced across the interior of the car, where her Vice-President-elect was sitting. Sofya was glad she had gone along with the compromise proposed by the Labor Party during their meetings with the Federalists to pick the diplomat as her running mate. Sofya's previous political career had been entirely oriented towards the domestic, and while she had had a reputation as something of a political brawler, she had been served well by the Junn Andrsunn's even-keeled temperament. His steadiness was reflected, in a way, by his appearance. In his mid-forties, Andrsunn's ashy-brown hair had a little bit of gray in it, and there was a ghost of a beard on his face, tidily trimmed, a little too long to be five-o-clock shadow, but too short to be called a beard. There was a tiredness to his face, reflected in corners around his eyes, despite those hazel orbs being illuminated by a friendly, wry humor. He was, at present, reading a newspaper in his seat, one leg resting on top of the other.

They were not alone in the car. Looking out the window, seated to the right of Andrsunn, was long-time Labor leader and active Senator Stannis Lynnun. Lynnun had the air of a life-long civil servant, and despite his age and distinction, his suit was clearly an off-the-rack piece. Not poorly made, or exceptionally cheap, but not top of the line, nor tailored specifically to him. He wore a round pair of glasses that had grown thicker over the years as his prescription had grown stronger, but there was a friendliness to his plain face. Where Andrsunn was buttoned-down, but unpretentious, Lynnun was not even particularly buttoned down. His medium-length hair looked brushed, but not combed, and he had a light, graying beard. Where Andrsunn had a moderate build, athletic in his youth, Lynnun was shorter and looked like he had always been wiry.

Despite coming from different political factions, Lynnun and Andrsunn were comfortable together. Both had been members of the March Coup against Eddard Jaal. Where Lynnun had been a friend and equal to Stevan Grimmeburger, who they were going to meet with, Andrsunn had been a trusted subordinate to the now-Generalissimo.

Across from Lynnun, to Rudulf's left, was her chief of staff, Dr. Sara Noevyk. Sara was unusually young in an administration that was, perhaps by international standards, rather young as well. Noevyk, at only twenty-nine years of age, had already completed two doctoral degrees in political science and international relations, and had been an integral part of Rudulf's campaign staff, formulating her lines of attack against the Nationalists, making deals to get crucial endorsements from officials and politicians. Noevyk had probably not single-handedly won the election for Rudulf or anything, but she had been a big part of the winning effort.

Sitting with Sofya, Lynnun, and Andrsunn, Noevyk's youth was even more evident. Sofya knew she was careworn, even for someone in their mid-forties, as was Junn. Lynnun looked his age, approaching sixty years old, having also lived an eventful life. Meanwhile, Noevyk, south of thirty, had the bearing and liveliness of someone in their mid-twenties, not given much more gravity by the sleek pair of glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Her mannerisms were also a contrast. While the other three residents of the car seemed relaxed (Lynnun more so than Andrsunn, Andrsunn more so than Rudulf), Dr. Noevyk seemed twitchy and anxious.

Where Sofya, Junn, and Stannis were all dressed primarily for the weather, in relatively thick pants, jackets with heavier coats, and flat shoes with good traction, Noevyk seemed like she was almost trying too hard, having donned a gray blouse, a blue tie, to go with a dark (either black or charcoal) blazer. She was wearing a dark skirt that fell to her knees, with similarly-hued tights. Despite the patches of ice on the sidewalks, she had worn dark blue high-heeled pumps. Sofya suspected that Sara had wanted to make a first impression of professionalism to the Generalissimo and the Cabinet, but she might have gone a little overboard.

Luckily, if previous encounters are anything to go by, the General and Cabinet won't care. All business, they are, Sofya thought. Of course, she was a little fidgety herself, even if she was not as restless as her young staffer. She had been fiddling with her wedding ring idly, a habit she had had ever since her marriage. There was at least a little nervousness involved. After all, she did not know why they had been asked to come.

The armored, relatively short limousine pulled up to the Despot's Palace, and the door swung open. Holding the door open and gesturing to the officials that it was time to get out was one of the General's Guard, the unit of Huskaarl infantry that served Grimmeburger as his personal security. He indicated that they should exit the vehicle. After a moment of traded glances, Sara nodded and went first. She was initially a little unsteady, and the large Huskaarl had to give her a hand for balance as she stepped out. Still, there were no embarrassing spills, and she was followed by Stannis Lynnun.

Lynnun, well-acquainted with Grimmeburger and his guards, recognized the particular Huskaarl as Athanarik, an enormous man that he was quite sure could have ripped the door off of its hinges had he wanted to. "Athan," the Laborite Senator greeted him jovially. "Good to see you! How did things...?"

The Huskaarl grinned and nodded. "Mia said yes, sir. She also said to pass on to you that she's a big fan of yours, if I saw you," he added. "It's going to be during Midwinter, if you'd like to come, we can send you an invitation, sir," he continued to the Senator. Lynnun nodded back.

"It would be an honor. Congratulations, and convey them to her as well." Athanarik nodded at Lynnun, who smiled one more time and then kept walking. Junn Andrsunn was the next one out of the car, greeting the Huskaarl pleasantly, but without the familiarity that Stannis just had. It was clear that there was no particular personal connection there, which was perhaps unsurprising given that Andrsunn had spent much of the last several years in Ghish running the embassy there.

Finally, Sofya climbed out of the car, her feet crunching on a thin layer of packed snow. Athanarik saluted her as she straightened, and she waved him down. "Appreciated, Corporal, but I'm not the President yet," she said with a smile. Athanarik nodded as he lowered his hand.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Was the trip over alright?" She nodded. "That's very good to hear, ma'am. The General is waiting inside for you."

"Thank you, Corporal. Stay warm, alright?" Athanarik nodded as Sofya started walking to join the rest of the group. The distance between the curbside and the entrance to the converted palace was not far, although their pace was slowed a little bit by Sara's walking speed. Still, it was only about a minute before they reached the entrance, where a pair of Federal Guardsmen pulled the door open for them. As they entered the atrium of the Palace, there was a short hallway before a large, expansive chamber. The chamber was built of a red stone, floored with marble, and the ceiling was high. The rectangular room had rows of galleries coming off of it, which Sofya knew led to blocks of offices and conference rooms. Looking around the room, she hoped that one day the building might be repurposed as a museum, so that its beauty could be shared better with the public.

Standing a few yards back from where the hall emptied into that large, rectangular chamber, was the nation's head of state for the last fifteen years. Stevan Grimmeburger was of average height, in his early fifties, his dark hair and full beard were both flecked with gray. There was a tiredness to his face, more than a man in his early fifties would generally have, but there was also a steadiness, born of vitality, purpose, and a strong will. He was in good shape. He would not be confused with a bodybuilder, but Sofya had heard rumors that the Last Despot chopped, split, and carried his own firewood, and looking at him, she had no trouble believing it.

He gave the group a smile, tinged with weariness, as they approached. He was accompanied by a retinue of his own, with a taller man at his side. She recognized Tyrrus Grahulm, who was built like a brick house, a few inches taller than his charge, and was wearing a Federal Army uniform. Grahulm's rusty-brown hair was tied back, and his beard was thick, roughly the same color. There was a Captain's insignia on his uniform, and Sofya knew he was the commanding officer of Grimmeburger's personal security forces.

At Grimmeburger's other side were the two leaders of the elected legislature, who would both be continuing their roles with the new administration. Erik Hendrsunn was a tall, rail-thin man with sharp cheekbones and a pointy chin, short brown hair, and level brown eyes. The man was fairly handsome, and he had a pleasant, if somewhat empty politician's smile on. He was the Prime Minister, the elected head of the Assembly, the lower chamber of the Moet, a spokesman and leader of the ruling Populist Coalition in that chamber.

Between him and Grimmeburger was the Chancellor of the Allamunnic States, Anessa Maarks. She was much shorter than Hendrsunn, and only a little bit shorter than Grimmeburger, her longer blonde hair cutting a contrast with the deeper hues of those around her. She had blue eyes and a pleasant smile, and was on the slightly heavier side relative for her height, although she was still not obese by any means. She was in a light-colored blazer and blouse, while Hendrsunn was in a darker suit. Grimmeburger, clearly no longer able to give a shit about protocol, was in the Despot's Palace in blue jeans, dark brown work boots, and a red-and-black flannel shirt.

"President-Elect. Vice-President Elect. Senator. Chief-to-Be." He nodded to all of them, extending his hand to each of them, offering to shake. As each of them shook his hand, he continued. "Thank you for joining us here today. There is a lot to discuss, as far as making sure the transition is a smooth one, but there's a specific matter I wanted to orient you all to today, to discuss and start setting a coherent policy on, moving forward," he said. "Are you all ready to begin?"

Sofya, Junn, Stannis, and Sara all nodded. "Excellent. In that case, if you'll come with me..." he turned, and, with all seven other people falling in behind him, Stevan led them down another hall, through two different turns, before coming to a conference room. The Generalissimo swung the door open and indicated that they should go inside. They filed in, one by one, and found that there were still more officials waiting for them in the room.

The sheer number of people in the conference room was actually somewhat surprising. Once the eight newcomers entered, there were fifteen people in the room. Around one end of the table was an assortment of officials. Sofya recognized a few of them. Jordynn Graagursunn, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs for the last several years of Grimmeburger's administration, was at the head of the table. She was flanked to her left by her deputy, Andrik Filius, to her right by the Director of the Secretary of Defense, and old soldier and instructor named Andrik Daanylsunn.

To Daanylsunn's right was the director of the Federal Department of Intelligence, Abygael Jurgenlunn, a bookish woman who looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, young for her position. Sara knew that was a product of the Federation's political history: the intelligence and internal security apparatus of the Federation had been purged not long after Eddard Jaal had been overthrown, which had also stripped the upper echelons of the organizations uncomfortably bare in many cases. The extent to which the Federal Guard and Federal Security Service had cemented Jaal's rule, and had been filled with his loyalists, had necessitated the purge, despite the damage to the country's intelligence-gathering capacity over the next ten years.

To her right was Anastasya Haraldlunn, the director of the Federal Investigative Service. The FIS in many ways was the successor to the Jaal-era Federal Security Service, serving as a federation-wide police force that investigated crimes committed at a federal level. It often partnered with the Federal Guard to defeat domestic security threats, as well. Haraldlunn was almost as young as Jurgunlunn, and had risen as far as she had, as quickly as she had, for very similar reasons to Abygael. On her right was the head of the Federal Guard, Bryndyn Wyndhoerst, who, again, was unusually young, for similar reasons.

Finally, rounding out that side of the table's inhabitants was the newer head of the Department of Internal Security, Samwyl Vyms. Vyms had actually started off as a Federal Army staff officer under Grimmeburger, placed in charge of an untrustworthy Federal Guard during the early days of the Grimmeburger administration. Vyms was a gravelly, somewhat grouchy man in middle age (perhaps his early sixties), but was exceptionally vital and active for his age. He looked as if he could take apart most of the people in the room, even at about six decades in age. As most of the others stood briefly at the Generalissimo and President-Elect's entry into the room, Vyms simply traded glances with the Generalissimo, who gave him a nod. He gave a quick, if crisp salute to Rudulf, as well.

"General, sir. Madame President, ma'am. Welcome." His voice was one that had chewed its share of glass and gravel, and his face was stone-hard and craggy to match. The others had stood for less than a moment before Grimmeburger waved them down.

"Siddown, siddown," he barked. "I trust introductions aren't necessary, at this stage?" he said, looking to Sofya, who shook her head.

"No, I've already asked just about everyone here to stay on," she said. "So we're acquainted. Good to see you all, again," she said, briefly making eye contact with each of them, carrying herself with her share of authority and poise.

"Excellent. Take a seat wherever you'd like, ma'am. Likewise for you, Junn, Stan, Ms. Noevyk. Tyrrus, could you please make sure the room is secure?" At the request, the Captain of the General's Guard nodded and stepped out. Stevan looked to Abygael. "Director Jurgunlunn, you said there was a video you needed to show us, before we began discussing the Estovnian situation?" he asked.

Jurgunlunn, young, bookish, and pretty, stood up, nodding. "Yessir. Ana will pass around a dossier to you all, while I set this up," she said. She walked over to a projector, briefly tinkering with it before it flickered to life, choosing a file from an encrypted flash drive, and beginning a video.

Witness Interview, August 12 2001, Torrenhuld, UT
Footage from FIS Archives; Case Status: Open
Federal Investigative Service & Federal Intelligence Bureau
Joint Investigation - Lead: FIS Inspector Anastasya Haraldlunn


The footage begins with the view of a comfortable-looking conference room. There are no windows providing views to the outdoors; the few windowed interruptions to the beige walls provide views to a bland, institutional hallway with linoleum tile and walls of a similar hue to the conference room's. There is a utilitarian wooden table with some plastic and metal chairs, upholstered with an ugly magenta fabric to make it more comfortable. The camera's vantage point appears to be in the top corner of the room, providing a view down the length of the table, an easy view of the only apparent door in or out of the room, and a few windows.

Seated on the side of the table opposite the door are two adults. Their features suggest that they are both approximately in their mid-forties. They appear to be a married couple, a man and a woman, of approximately the same age. They are holding hands, and they both have what appear to be wedding rings on their left hands. They are holding hands, the man's right to the woman's left, and their body language suggests they are both quite tense, possibly worried. Both have dirty blonde hair, although the man's appears to be thinning at the crown. The woman's is longish and straigth falling a little below her shoulder. Both are wearing glasses, and their eye colors are not readily apparent from the video. Their attire is similar, the man in a light green button-down shirt and khakis, while the woman is in a blue blouse and dark slacks. The man has a little bit of a gut, but otherwise appears to be of normal build, and is still somewhat handsome, and the woman, although softened by what might be a comfortable lifestyle, looks reasonably active, and although likely more attractive in her youth, is still reasonably comely. Both appear to be in good health.

The door opens and a woman walks in. She looks to be in her late twenties or early thirties and is of approximately average height and build, neither tall nor short, neither fat nor skinny. She does appear to be reasonably active, with a level of athleticism born of effort rather than natural talent. She wears thin-framed glasses, and has almost inky-black hair tied back in a ponytail. She is reasonably attractive, but her expression is one of concern and thought. She is wearing a dark blazer over a light-blue blouse, dark slacks, and functional-looking lace-up shoes. The woman steps forward and sits in a seat on the same side as the door. She lays a notebook on the table, pulls a pen out of her pocket, and nods a greeting to the man and woman.

"Ms. Koelhaaltur, Mr. Koelhaaltur, thank you for coming in to talk with us," she says. "I'm Inspector Ana Haraldlunn. I've been given the lead on your daughter's case," she explains to them.

"What happened to Inspector Roekfyurd?" the woman, Ms. Koelhaaltur asks Haraldlunn. The Inspector sighs and shakes her head.

"Alyx... Inspector Roekfyurd was killed in the line of duty last week," she said. "I'm sorry, I understand you had established a strong rapport with him," she said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Ms. Koelhaaltur says back. "My condolences," she adds, her tone sounding sincere. Haraldlunn nods, and appears to take a breath and recenter herself.

"Thank you, ma'am. Now, before we begin discussing your daughter and her disappearance, I need to inform you that this conversation is being recorded both via camera and via microphone. I also must inform you that this interview must be voluntary, with your consent necessary. If at any point you do not wish to continue, or do not wish to answer a question which we do not have a warrant for information on, you are free to end the interview and leave without any legal consequence for doing so. Do you understand this and agree to continue under these circumstances?"

Both of the Koelhaalturs nod, before verbally responding with variations of basic affirmatives. Haraldlunn nods, making a note in her book, and then gives instructions. "If you could, for the record, state your full names, occupations, and the reason you filed a missing persons report with the Federal Investigative Service?"

The woman goes first. "My name is Meryda Koelhaaltur. I am a foreman at the Broegsvyl Nuclear Power Plant."

Her husband then continues. "My name is Lukas Koelhaaltur. I am primarily a stay-at-home parent." They exchange a glance, and then he continues. "We filed a missing persons report for our daughter, Faaryna. We last saw her on March... 12th, I think, of this year. It was the day they overthrew the Despot," he said. "Whichever day that was. Pretty sure it was the 12th."

"Could you give us some information on your daughter? Age, occupation, appearance, that sort of thing?" Haraldlunn asks.

"Well, she's twenty this year. She's about... five-and-a-half feet tall, has sort of long hair, she's blonder than either of us," Meryda explains. "She's lovely, and athletic, and we're very proud of h-her." Meryda's voice breaks slightly, but she manages to keep her composure. "She was at the FSS Academy, in her final year there as a cadet. She w--is very excited to serve her country. A regular little patriot," Ms. Koelhaaltur adds.

Anastasya jots the occasional note, but is mostly listening to the Koelhaalturs. "She was at the FSS Academy?" she asks. "Was she an enthusiastic supporter of Despot Jaal?" Hesitation is clear on the Koelhaalturs' faces. There is a possibility that they are scared of possible reprisals for their political views, or those of their family, so Haraldlunn clarifies. "I realize that's a somewhat sensitive question. I ask because during the coup, there was some violence between partisans, between groups supportive and opposed to the Despot. It is not the policy of the FIS, under Generalissimo Grimmeburger to prosecute supporters of the Jaal regime on the basis of their political sympathies."

After a moment of silent consultation, Lukas speaks. "Yes, she w-is. It started when she was in secondary school, but we figured it was just a phase. We started to think her convictions might be genuine when she applied for admission to the FSS Academy," he says. "It was... confusing for us. Mery's a Federalist and I'm a Laborite. Neither of us were fans of Jaal, but we kept our heads down. We're proud of the drive and patriotism our daughter showed, but some of her convictions were concerning, and we hoped she would grow out of them."

"Concerning in what way?"

"Well, some of the things she would say, even if she would try to keep it hidden, were very... I'm not sure how to put it. Close-minded? Bigoted, even, in nature?" Meryda says. "Things about the inherent greatness of the Bergoran peoples. She would sometimes repeat some rather ugly stereotypes about our Jewish neighbors, or about people from outside of Bergora," she explains. "We thought it might be as simple as youthful ignorance, but... do you think she was attacked for saying the wrong thing, maybe?"

Anastasya shakes her head. "I don't know. What I'm looking for are new leads. Anything you might not have told us before. Anyone that might have wanted to hurt your daughter, or that she might have run away with. Something we might not have thought of. You... might be pleased to know that she has not turned up in any morgues, even, as far as we can tell, as a Junna Waalturs1.

"I--I guess that's something," Meryda replies. "Umm, there's nobody we know, of her friends, or anyone like that, that's missing. You're sure it's not connected to her politics?"

"I don't know. It's hard to tell. I don't -- yet, at least -- have any sort of proof or lead that suggests that that would be the case. Still, it's..." Ana appears to think about something here. "Odd, to say the least. She is not the only FSS cadet to go missing in the immediate aftermath of Jaal's removal. Approximately 64 out of the class of 152 are currently either deceased or unaccounted for," she says. "More of them missing than dead. The ones who are confirmed deceased launched an attack on a Federal Army garrison near the academy once news of the coup filtered out. Faaryna was not among them, and the Federal Army has denied any knowledge of her whereabouts. Best we can think of, maybe they are in hiding somewhere, afraid they will be persecuted." She sighs, then closes her notebook. "I'm afraid I'm out of questions to ask you. Is there anything else you can think of that might give us an idea of where Faaryna might have gone, or been taken?"

Both of the Koelhaalturs shake their heads. "Alright. Well, we'll keep looking. I'll keep you atop of developments as they unfold," Ana says, standing up and offering her hand to each of them. The Koelhaalturs, now standing as well, shake her hand, and she gives a slip of paper to Meryda. "On there is both my office number, and my home phone number. If you think of anything, or need to talk, please, get in touch, and I will do whatever I can to help." She looks at both of the Koelhaalturs. "I'm sorry I don't have more for you today. But we will find your daughter, or I'll die trying." With that, Anastasya escorts the Koelhaalturs from the room. Everyone is still tense as they exit.

The recording ends here.


"So why did you show this to us?" Stevan asked Jurgunlunn. He also glanced over at Anastasya Haraldlunn, who had resumed her seat and had watched the recording that she had featured prominently in with an impassive expression. "I assume this is somehow relevant to how we deal with the latest bout of internal upheaval out of Estovnia," he said. Abygael nodded, turning to address the entire room, which included a panoply of Federal government officials, both incoming and outgoing.

"It is relevant. Because," she said, indicating to an aid to pass out a piece of paper to each of those assembled, "We finally found Faaryna Koelhaaltur. Once we knew what to look for, we were able to dig through the appropriate records to connect some dots. Faaryna Koelhaaltur purchased a bus ticket from Grimmea to Onneria on March 13th, 2001. She purchased another bus ticket from Onneria to Izaakpurt. There is a record of her arriving in Izaakpurt -- the ticket was punched at the bus station there, and she is visible on a CCTV camera in the St. Konrad Bus Station arriving. She seemed to be making for the border -- there's a crossing into Estovnia not far from there. Now, Faaryna Koelhaaltur just flat out disappears. But. There is a record that we were able to obtain from Estovnian immigration officials, of the entry of an Allamunnic national, a "Vera Grigorievica Ljukaneiva" on March 14th, 2001. Now, this is interesting, because we combed birth records for the last fifty years and we can't find a single "Vera Ljukaneiva" that was born or brought to this country in that span. And CCTV at the Grand Terminus Train Station in Izaakpurt tells us that Koelhaaltur was there on the 14th of March... but that she never left. Instead, this "Vera Ljukaneiva", an Allamunnic national that there is no prior record of, leaves the station on a train bound for the Estovnian border, and Faaryna Koelhaaltur drops off the face of the earth.

"Until we start hearing of a 'Vera Ljukaneiva' in connection to the top job at the Estovnian state security agency." As the papers landed on the table in front of the various officials, they saw two different pictures: that of Faaryna Koelhaaltur, in her cadet uniform in an official FSS Academy picture, and a picture of Vera Ljukaneiva from a government-sanctioned rally in Estovnia. There was little doubt that it was the same person in two pictures separated by fifteen years. "Now, we cannot, short of a DNA test, confirm with ironclad certainty that it's the same person, but there seems to be more than sufficient evidence for the conclusion that Vera Ljukaneiva, the head of the Estovnian Committee of State Security, is a natural-born Allamunnic citizen named Faaryna Koelhaaltur." The room was silent.

Grimmeburger was the first to break it. "Excellent work to you and your subordinates, Director," he said. "Now, my question is: is this intended to give us information that we can act on? Appealing to her nationalism? Or is it a simple matter of knowing our enemy?"

"For now, it helps to simply know our enemy. You will find, in the packet of information we gave all of you, Koelhaaltur's FSS Academy evaluation. A few of you might find the broad thrust of the thing familiar, since I recall very similar wording in another evaluation for someone else in this room," Abygael said, looking meaningfully at Grimmeburger, who shrugged and smiled slightly. "I doubt there's an angle to appealing to her feelings as one of our countrymen. She was, by all indications, a staunch Jaal loyalist, who fled when he was overthrown. She indicated political proclivities that made Estovnia a natural fit. No, we have absolutely no reason to think that Ms. Koelhaaltur is any friend of ours.

"And this is important, because there appears to be some degree of internal strife in the Estovnian government," Jurgunlunn explained. "Assets on the ground and in our embassy in Krisuvik indicate that the rounding up of dissidents, allegedly those who voted against the abolishment of the monarchy in a recent parliamentary vote, may in fact be a smokescreen for something more nefarious. At this juncture, we don't have reason to think that Elder Thegn Lítiingursson's regime is in danger (although his position is not as stable as it once was), Ljukaneiva is considered to be among the prime candidates to replace him, should something happen. None of the other likely candidates..." she said, rattling off their names, "have indicated any more reason than Ljukaneiva to be friendly to us. As of now, my counsel is that we wait to see what happens next: it could be nothing, or it could be the start of serious upheaval," she said. "But we should be prepared to act against a government that might upset the current balance of power we've managed to establish between the Estovnians, Rietumish, and Eesti. The last thing we need is our neighbors to the east united."

"What are you suggesting?" The speaker was the elderly Secretary of Defense, Andrik Daanylsunn, "Certainly not destabilizing or invading a neighbor?" He glanced over at Grimmeburger, then, wondering what his one-time student would say. That dynamic was one Noevyk found interesting. She was not sure how Daanylsunn would handle serving under Sofya, a civilian leader.

"I am suggesting that while we would not be doing so, at least not at the present time, but I'd like the Federal Army to review that contingency plan just in case. I don't think we'll need it, but, as they say, plan for the worst, hope for the best." He glanced over to Sofya. "Hopefully, Madame President, you won't need to use it, but we'll make sure we do our homework to leave the best-possible position for you that we can." Sofya nodded back at Grimmeburger. Then, he looked to Haraldlunn. "Director Haraldlunn, have you notified the Koelhaalturs?"

Anastasya shook her head. "No, I was waiting for confirmation before doing so. It's potentially sensitive enough information that it seemed prudent to get approval before releasing it. I can also request that the Koelhaalturs agree not to disclose it. That said, I have asked them to meet with me tomorrow, so I'll either give them the truth, or an approved story that might give them some peace of mind," she said. "I would prefer to give them the truth, though, sir. I made a promise to them. If reasonably possible and prudent, I would like to keep it."

After silently conferring with Jurgunlunn, Stevan nodded. "Go ahead and tell them the truth. Ask them to keep it as quiet as they reasonably can, though. It doesn't seem especially sensitive, but it might not be something they want as public knowledge, for their own sake," he said. "Security and intelligence work makes a person a lot of enemies." Anastasya nodded, giving a quiet "yes, sir."

"So when it comes to the unfolding situation in Estovnia, with the mass arrests..." Rudulf began. "Where do we stand on that?"

Here, Jordynn Graagursunn spoke. "At present, we've simply made a formal protest regarding the mass arrests. It's fairly pro forma, but unfortunately the Estovnians likely know we aren't likely to take direct action over it. They're too potentially useful an ally to alienate over what is, distastefully, part of the norm. We've also made an offer to shelter dissidents and 'undesireables' in exile, as an alternative to the deprivation of life or liberty from Estovnian nationals," she explained. "Ambassador Baevyrn has requested that we schedule a meeting with Lítiingursson, and I've been trying to work on that, to see if there's an alternative resolution that can be reached."

"Does Ambassador Baevyrn think he can get them to relent?"

"Unlikely. But he might be able to mitigate some of the more unpleasant fates some of those convicted of seditious activity might face. It might also leave the possibility open of receiving their royal family into exile, if their internal debate over the abolishment of the monarch has legs and has the potential to turn violent," she said. "The important thing is that we keep the Estovnians talking to us. We want to keep our channels with them open. Without that, there is a risk they will throw in with the Eesti and Rietumish, which is something we cannot risk. Without that, we are vulnerable to direct invasion, even with NCTO to back us up."

"Thank you for explaining that, Director," Sofya said with a respectful nod to the foreign minister. "Is there anything else we can do about this?"

Grimmeburger smiled somewhat sadly. "Unfortunately, President-Elect Rudulf, you're going to find that there's a lot of waiting involved with this job. Sometimes there's not a lot else you can do. Make a decision, wait, and hope for the best. The best we can do at the moment is make sure that our contingency plans for a number of possible situations are ready and up to date," he said. "But it's always important to stay abreast of these situations. Speaking of..." he said, looking to Wyndhorst and Vyms. "Think you're up to the task of handling Estovnian refugees, screening them, and getting them settled, Directors?" he asked them. Wyndhorst nodded, but Vyms sighed.

"Yes, General. Although it would be one hell of a lot easier if you'd give me the old facilities on Kaalsten Island back," he grumbled. "Don't like the idea of processing the lot of them in Allamunnic lands."

Grimmeburger chuckled, but looked as if this was well-trod territory. "I've told you before, Director, that we can't use them until they've been refurbished. Every human rights watch organization would have our heads if we started using it. We'd lose refugees to pneumonia alone if we used that place," he said. "You're just going to have to wait, Sam." With that, satisfied at the explanation, Vyms subsided. "Anything else on this subject?" he asked the room at large. The question was not a challenge or accusation, merely a question to be asked before other business was tackled. "Excellent. What else have we got?" he asked the room at large.

Daanylsunn got up. "Well, I have some reports based on the first major exercises with the new Olyfynt tanks," he offered. Grimmeburger nodded an acknowledgement. The aging Director of Defense began to speak, and Noevyk settled in, preparing to observe and learn about what she would be up against, what would be expected, helping to keep this Bergoran bastion of liberty and liberalism running smoothly.
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EsToVnIa
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Ex-Nation

Postby EsToVnIa » Mon Feb 20, 2017 3:55 pm

Baanaðaboorg
27 Južnokorejski St
Krisuvik, Auspicious Realms of the Crown of St. Helena
4 January, 2017



The holiday season had come to a close and the nation began to slowly lurch back to life. Boxing Day had saw a rare snowstorm pass through Krisuvik, giving the city a quaint few centimetres. The smog of the industrial city was, as one might expect, far worse since coal was still a common source for heat in many of the homes. The snowstorm had done a decent job of at least giving the city an appearance of being clean and well-kept. New Year’s Eve and Day were similarly uneventful, save for the annual Policy Address given by Elder Thegn Litingursson to Parliament that was televised on that Monday. The address was most notable for Litingursson announcing that the framework was being laid down for formalising relations with both the Rietumish and Eesti governments, which had yet to be recognised as legitimate by Estland.

Anastasia had been uncharacteristically busy, arguably the busiest she had been since she ascended the throne in 2013. After meeting with Vicar Laksgrieva a little over a week ago, she had requested a meeting with Litingursson and the Grand Council for National Progress, the de facto regency council that, in Ana’s eyes, was nothing but a manipulative tool used by Litingursson. Naturally, Litingursson declined to meet with the young empress personally but was willing to offer one of his deputies for the meeting in his place. Surprisingly, she accepted the proposal. She didn’t need to really talk to them anyways; she just needed somebody she could dictate her demands to and relay them to whoever. Ultimately, they would reach Litingursson’s ears anyways.

Unlike her previous appointment with the vicar, Anastasia was ready well-before their scheduled meeting time of 1:00 pm. Also unlike her meeting with Laksgrieva, her clothing choices were much more reflective of the de facto soft power she, despite the presence of the Grand Council, still held. An eggshell white Terician dress covered her slim figure, complimented by a pair of tan wedges. She was seated in her usual spot, she had the servants bring in an assortment of pastries, finger sandwiches, and teas. After all, her meeting with whatever thug Litingursson sent her would be during tea time. A knock on the door alerted Ana to the arrival of the deputy. She pressed the button on the coffee table and the door opened, causing Ana to stand up from the chair.

“Your worship,” the deputy said, giving an exaggerated bow.

Ana nodded. “Yes, hello.” She had yet to truly master how to conduct these meetings. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of getting refreshments since our meeting ran close to Tea Time.” She took her seat and indicated the deputy to do so as well.

“Ulwkil Vætlásson, your worship, Chairman of the Monarchical Continuation Committee” Vætlásson said, taking the chair to the left of the couch. He was wearing a black blazer and matching pants with a steel coloured shirt. His brown dress shoes, while not entirely matching the outfit, didn’t really stick out either.

“Yes, well thank you meeting with me on such short notice, Chairman” As with the Conventry, government officials were another group who Ana maintained formalities with. She reached onto the coffee table and picked up a teacup and saucer and took a sip. “While I was hoping to discuss this matter with the Elder Thegn, I am nonetheless grateful that you still came.” Hopefully he won’t think that’s a backhanded compliment… I need him to at least act amicable. She thought after the words had already left her mouth.

“In any case, I understand that the Emergency Powers Act will be up for vote in an extension this coming year, correct?” She knew the answer already, but hearing an “official source” say it would at least affirm her suspicions.

“Yes, your worship. I believe that’s one of the first things coming up for vote this month,” Vætlásson replied, picking a teacup up himself.

“You believe so, or that is, Chairman?” Her tone was much more stern this time around.

“It is one of the first things, yes.”

“I’ll just say it now then so you can relay it to the Elder Thegn, but I don’t intend to give royal assent to an extension, Chairman.” She paused for a moment and leaned forward. “I believe I have shown myself to be quite capable of leading the country,” She said matter of factly.

Vætlásson nodded his head, whether out of agreement or because he understood what the empress was saying wasn’t clear, however. “Yes, you have certainly. But with all due respect, your worship, you haven’t exactly had much to rule on. His Majesty caused two recessions. Who’s to say you would not have done the same had the Grand Council was not created?”

She took a deep breath. Ana rarely got angry, more so “disappointed” was the word she preferred to use. “I disagree, Chairman,” She finally said. “I believe I have done quite a few things that showed my maturity in many ways. I have the highest public opinion rating of any monarch since polls had start been taken in 1945.” She was trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. “The College has unanimously agreed to support me in this.”

Vætlásson chuckled. “With due respect, your worship, the Conventry’s word means next to nothing nowadays.”

“Next to nothing?” Her so-called disappointment was slowly turning to anger. “The Conventry is the nation’s biggest welfare programme, Chairman. We care for and educate over seven million citizens a day.” Never in a million years would she have thought that she’d be sticking up for the Conventry, not to mention using the word “we” in conjunction with it.

The Chairman was silent, borderline shocked at hearing Ana’s words. She had no clue what Litingursson had told him prior to sending him over to the palace, but one thing so far was he wasn’t expecting the conversation to be playing out like this. Vætlásson was starting to find himself agreeing with Anastasia. How this would play out was yet to be seen.

“Fine,” He mumbled, setting his cup down on the oak coffee table. “You’ve convinced me…”

“Then I’d like an audience with my Elder Thegn,” Ana declared. She wasn’t entirely sure if Litingursson would show up, but there was no harm in trying.

“Yes, of course,” He got up from the chair and pulled out his cellphone. “If you would excuse me, your worship.”

As he started for the door, Ana held her hand up to stop them. “There’s no need to leave, Chairman,” she said bluntly. She wanted to make sure that Vætlásson would actually do as she requested rather leave the room for a couple minutes without actually making the phone call. Ana then impatiently waved her hand, indicating that Vætlásson should hurry up with her request.

He nodded, and after dialing, pressed the smartphone up against his right ear. “Comrade Elder Thegn,” his voice was barely above a whisper, clearly not wanting Ana to hear what the conversation was about. “Yes… No, Comrade Elder Thegn… I believe it would be easier for you to hear it in person… Yes, I understand… No, but- Yes, of course… She requests your presence… No, I don’t think so… Yes… Of course… I shall let her know.” He hung up the phone and returned it to the front left pocket of his trousers. Vætlásson sat down in the chair and turned his attention back to the empress. “He’ll arrive within the hour, your worship.”

With that being said, Vætlásson got up with the intention to leave the meeting. He wouldn’t want to deal with Litingursson when he arrived and heard what Anastasia had told him just a few moments ago. As the Chairman of the Monarchical Continuation Committee, he had no real duties. Vætlásson was mostly just an appointed errand boy for correspondence between Anastasia and Litingursson. A task, while tedious and believed to be below his perceived status, was nonetheless an easy one and it paid well and gave him the added benefits of being a higher up in the Estlandic government and Nordic Front. Bidding Ana goodbye, he collected his briefcase that he had brought and shuffled out of the room.

Some servants had come into the room and began clearing the refreshments that they had laid out for Ana’s meeting with Vætlásson. The silver tiered trays filled with scones, danishes, finger sandwiches, and other pastries soon brought back the vast emptiness of the oak coffee table’s surface. Rising from the cream coloured sofa, she walked over to the stained glass windows that lined the farthest wall. It was sunny outside, the dark orange-yellow of the afternoon sun casting its rays through the windows and illuminating patches of red, green, purple, and blue on the cherry wood flooring of the tea room. The sun had melted all the snow off the roofs of the houses and buildings nearby, but the a cozy white blanket still lay on the sidewalks and in snow banks on the ploughed streets. Despite it being a Wednesday, street traffic wasn’t busy, but perhaps that had more to do with it being only 1:45 in the afternoon than anything else.

The vibration of her phone on the table caught her attention. For one, she thought she had turned it off or at the very least silenced it; she was lucky that it didn’t go off during her meeting with Vætlásson. Her eyes lit up when she saw the screen flashing with Aleks’s name. Reaching over for the Noviteran phone, she picked it up and tapped the green “answer” icon. Pressing the phone up against ear, she answered.

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

“Busy day… How’d the meeting go?” His tone made it seem like he was assuming the worst.

Ana gesticulated to the two servants that they should leave the room. “Well… I told him.”

“Told him what?” He asked.

“That I’m not going to sign on to just watching the country turn shittier for another four years.”

“Why would you go and do that?” A mix of anger and surprise were evident in his tone.

Ana shook her head and gave a puzzled look. “What do you mean ‘go and do that?’ I’m doing what I think is the best thing for the country.” Too, her voice was starting to get louder to match Aleks’s.

“I’m just saying that I feel like there are better things to do,” He quickly replied defensively.

“Better things to do?” She exasperated. “So you would prefer that I just sit on my hands and do nothing?”

“I would prefer you talk things out with me before jumping head first into the shallow end,” He was struggling now to keep a calm tone.

“I don’t need your permission,” She stated matter of factly. “I’m an empress, for fuck’s sake. I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

“No, you don’t, but I thought we agreed we were going to talk things out from now on.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens. I need to start making decisions on my own and start taking this seriously.”

“Taking things seriously,” He mocked sarcastically. “For like what? Another three months like you usually do before it’s back to regular, old Ana?”

“Go fuck yourself,” She hung up and tossed the phone down on the cushion.

The knock on the door was the indication that Litingursson had arrived. If her argument with Aleks was any sort of indication for how this sort of conversation would go, then it was going to be an awfully long day.
Most Heavenly State/Khamgiin Tengerleg Uls

Weeaboo Gassing Land wrote:Also, rev up the gas chambers.

The United States of North Amerigo wrote:CUNT

12:02:02 AM <Tarsas> premislyd is my spirit animal tbh


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