Once upon a time in Esquarium 2.0 [Closed, Esquarium only]

[Katranjiev]

October 16th, 2017
Krasimir Castle

The door creaked open, revealing a frail old man with two canes. He sauntered his way into the old drawing room: it may no longer be used much these days outside from the occasional high-level government meeting, but it was a perfect occasion for the former King, Apostol XV, to meet with the Deputy Prime Minister, and Count of Rysinov.

"...I am glad that you were able to come on such short notice, my Lord," the King began. "Please make yourself comfortable."

The Count of Rysinov proceeded towards the sofa. Once he reached the sofa, he set his two canes aside and made himself comfortable.

"Thank you, your Majesty," he began. "I assume that the matter is about Princess Mariana, da?"

The King sighed in disappointment. Disappointed at his stupid decision to abdicate to focus on treating his testicular cancer. Disappointed at himself for not raising her properly, especially when her brother and sister seem much more... civilized and refined. And, of course, disappointed at his daughter.

"Yes," the King bluntly replied. "She has spent the past few years running our country into the ground, because of her antics that are more suitable for... whatever reality show them kids are calling nowadays."

He paused for a brief moment.

"I am starting to question whether a regency would be appropriate, my Lord," Apostol XV continued. "Because even if we implement a regency on the Queen, she has left such a huge stain on the institutions of the monarchy, that even if we were to relegate her to the most menial tasks, we would still have to deal with her fallout when she posts something stupid on social media or pulls yet another stunt."

"Your Majesty," Count Nikola began, "may I suggest that we force her to abdicate?"

Apostol XV pondered the notion. It seemed very nice in theory, but Elis would still be spouting her mouth on social media. Sure, he could silence her by threatening to cut her off from the "royal allowance" and make her live on her own, but... the fact that she was the Queen would mean that anything that she says would carry some weight.

"I do not think that it can feasibly work, my Lord," Apostol XV replied. "Even if she abdicates, she will still be considered a former monarch, and thus, a role model to many people. I certainly dread the notion that 20 years down the line, a grandchild of the Jathani monarch would be inspired by Elis."

"Are you suggesting, Your Majesty, that we neutralize her?" Nikola asked.

"Yes, my Lord. I am very sure that the government still has a few of those umbrellas from the Liberationist era," Apostol answered. "If necessary, we can contract the murder to someone else who would love to see her dead. And I know there are many people who will."

He paused for a brief moment.

"Alternately, we can hire some staffer to borrow that sabre that was given to me by the Tuthinans and lop off her head. Of course, the downsides to such an approach are obvious..."

"Both of your ideas are brilliant, your Majesty," the Count replied. "However, we will still need a regent, since Kalina is too young and the full extent of her retardation is as of yet unknown."

"This is why the Succession Act contains provisions for a regency, my Lord," Apostol XV remarked. "As you are part of the Cabinet, I am very certain that you will play a role in any regency for the foreseeable future. Of course, so will Prince Andrei of Chavdarov."

Count Nikola of Rysinov smiled for the first time in a while. He had high hopes that this will be the beginning of the end for a drama Queen...

[Victoriala II]

Sibari

In the light of my pyre, I saw Change.

I am soothsayer and priestess to the Prince in the Lion's Kingdom. The young boy is frail and afraid, his piety unending. Every time he commits to himself an act of dharma to every smallest transgression. For that I wish him well. He offers gifts to the luminous gods, knowing that his house is under favor within the cosmic tapestry. And for that I am eternally grateful.

The Queen, his mother, stays silent. Her Highness sees the boy as fondly as I do. Yet for every time I see her with him, she glares at the relics, at the images, at the fire, at us. She comes to me to ask for prophecy, and my duties make me oblige. She asks of the future of the other Queens, of their joys, their maladies and the times of their deaths. She asks me to tell her what to do in coming dangers, of malicious queens, of savage northerners and of rebellious sailors. Daily I come to the darkness of the temple to light up wooden prayers and scented herbs. And there, in the light of my pyre, I saw change.

The fire burned brightly as great as I remember. A great wheel appeared above me, and beholden to the Great Lion I offered myself to. The lion became a solar man, fuming in righteousness and his passion endowed and throbbing. He holds a staff and a sword of flame, a golden bolt (vajra) and a bowl of incense. He offered me its scent, and my soul burst. I never felt more alive.

From there, visions and futures of great kind. The banners of which I kiss shall be made glorious and pervading. The Kings and Queens that my Highness cursed shall fall, among others. Yet in the horizon, my Sun shall depart to continue the spinning of the wheel. The Moon shall temper herself and become enslaved by mortals. The temple I sit on shall be laid to rest, and two paths, of the yellow sunset of chaos and the scarlet sunrise of congregation. From the second the serene time of the first Soothsayers shall return. From the first, the point of no return.

I wept greatly for my vision, and the Lion comforted me. He spoke to me of my hands, and let me touch the fire he stood on. I am unscathed, it felt cold. He told me the visions shall ring true tommorow, and stood me up. He spoke: "Raise my standard, and fulfill what shall be."

In the light of the Sun, I found Purity.

Seven moons since the malady of my Prince and the fall of my Highness, the land fell to disorder. The queens declared our lands theirs, and I act through the precepts of justice. In their quest to claim my people, I claimed theirs. And under guidance of His banner I am victorious. My temple has become the new throne. His spirit flows through me.

The temple has become of great luxury, yet remains sanctified and pure, away from the curses of the still dark world. The old priests who know of Dharma's value knows the necessity of what I am doing. Yet they shall continue their own. Their efforts shall still be in the spinning of the wheel. What the northern child of the Moon has began, the vessel of the Sun shall finish.

For every aggressor who submits to the banner, the dawn breaks within the darkest of caves, fireflies spark brightly to illustrate the night. The great Sea-Serpent, most serene Moon-child, came ashore to pay his obeisances to his father. In the light of the Moon, the darkness wavers. In the light of the Sun, the darkness is extinguished. Today is an Eon of Illumination. Today, the path covered over us is unchanging. [This is a lie.] The path to harmony is upon us, the age of Dharma.

In the light of my Heart, I felt Duty.

They who submit proclaim out the chants of old. "Victory, Victory, Victory!"

Through the proclamation of the Reign of the Lion Throne I shall lay the ground for the path it must take. The custody of His spirit can only cease at the time of great light. Someone must continue, someone I could pass on the vesselhood. The future must not be stalled. My sisters in faith shall take guardianship of this passing. I have given them ample and strict instruction, His wishes to be fulfilled exact.

My successor shall be serene, with a voice as soft as the surf, a heavenly dancer's flowing cadence, the wild spirit of the Sunrise, the valor of lions and a soul that challenges the darkness of the past. She shall be judged by my sisters and be cleansed of her sin. Any demon that may trouble her shall be exorcised and the last dark spots of her being made purest of white. She shall be draped by the banner and through there His spirit shall imbue her. She shall be reborn as His offspring and my daughter. She shall continue the path.

For now, more stones shall be set and blocks must be made. The temples shall be aligned in accordance to the light. They shall be conduits for the Solar being and the waypoints of the Lunar sigh. Thus, the path shall be complete, from north to south, it shall guard the future from the evils of the dark. A great firmament that shall ensure the glorious age uninterrupted and triumphant, upon this land dedicated to the raging power of the Solar Lion.

In the light of our souls, I proclaim Destiny.

In my final moments, do not burn me in the ground. Put my body over the sea, floating on the afternoon sun where the soft warmth of His being smiles upon me. Take all my mementos and put them with me, and sail me away. From there, turn me into ashes and my worldly being be forgotten altogether. I may be gone, but my spirit shall linger. His fire shall burn brightly until the time it must, on the eon of change. The eon shall be not of peace but of vibrant vigor that shall pave the direction to either path.

To my sisters: follow my successor and guide his worldly soul to the right path. To my soldiers: your duty shall be to serve, and to serve my successor and her followers is what shall be. To my people: weep not for me, for I shall enter to His light. To His being: I bless you and may the remaining time of the Gods in this world be fruitful in this eon. To my successor: my child, the path shall be long. I shall guide you in spirit and take the Lion's people closer to the bright path.

May Dharma encompass this universe.

-seal-

[Victoriala II]

[Victoriala II]

[Siphria]

This is a formal statement being released on behalf of the workers of the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone, by those we have selected from among us to bring forth our cause to the world. Let it be known that we are not acting on the behest of any regime or government, but rather of our own volition after years of torment directed at ourselves, our families, and our country. Let it also be known that we have no desire for violence, but have been pushed to these extreme measures through years of abuse and mistreatment by the Ankoreni regime. Finally, let it be known that we will oppose any attempt by any government- even the government of Siphria- to deny us the justice we deserve.

We, the workers of the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone, have risen in protest of these abuses:

1. Inadequate pay for our labor, the arbitrary docking of pay by Ankoreni bosses, and the frequent failure of Ankoreni bosses to pay our wages on time.

2. Abusive working hours and insufficient pay for hours worked overtime.

3. A lack of access to paid sick leave, paid maternity leave, and financial compensation for injuries suffered while working.

4. The failure of Ankoreni bosses to adhere to Siphrian labor laws relating to workplace safety.

5. Arbitrary and unjust firing of Siphrian employees by Ankoreni bosses.

6. Repeated verbal and physical abuse of Siphrian employees by Ankoreni bosses, which Ankoren has allowed to go unpunished.

7. Sexual harassment of female Siphrian employees by Ankoreni bosses, in violation of all laws of chastity, which Ankoren has allowed to go unpunished.

8. The persecution of our fellow Baha'i by the Islamic Collectivist regime in Ankoren.

9. Repeated Ankoreni threats to our home city of Heskîf, and by extension, to our homes, spouses, and children.

10. Ankoreni support for anti-Siphrian terrorist groups that have perpetrated numerous criminal acts in Siphria, imperiling the lives of our countrymen.

11. Ankoreni harassment and intimidation of the Baha'i Republic of Siphria and other nations and governments all across Nautasia.

In response to these abuses, we demand the following recompense:

1. An immediate increase of wages for all Siphrian employees in the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone by no less than 25%.

2. The immediate payment of all unpaid wages owed to Siphrian employees in the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone.

3. An end to all arbitrary or unjustified docking of pay by Ankoreni bosses, and the payment of all pay arbitrarily docked in the past five years.

4. The limitation of working hours to no more than eight hours per day for all Siphrian employees, excluding overtime hours.

5. An increase in the amount of money paid to Siphrian employees for overtime hours by no less than 50%.

6. The doubling of the number of days provided to Siphrian employees for paid sick leave.

7. The implementation of financial compensation for injuries suffered while working.

8. The implementation of paid maternal leave for all female Siphrian employees of the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone.

9. An inspection into working conditions at the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone, to be held within the next month, and the implementation of Siphrian workplace safety laws following this inspection.

10. An investigation into all verbal, physical, and sexual abuse committed by Ankoreni bosses in the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone, the punishment of all bosses implicated in perpetrating or abetting such abuse, and the fiscal compensation of all Siphrian employees subjected to such abuse.

11. An end to all unjustified and unprovoked firings of Siphrian employees, and financial compensation to all unjustly fired former employees fired within the last five years.

12. The creation of a pension plan for all Siphrian employees of the Heskîf Joint Industrial Zone, generous enough to provide for them into their retirement.

13. A guarantee of the rights of Siphrian workers to unionize and strike in protest of any attempts by Ankoreni bosses to renege upon or deny the conditions mentioned above.

14. The official renunciation of all Ankoreni "claims" to the city of Heskîf and Heskîf governorate.

15. The immediate end to all persecution of adherents of the Baha'i faith within Ankoren.

16. The delivery of financial compensation to the families of all victims of the Ankoreni bombing of the village of Qurwe, the Ankoreni-backed terrorist attack upon the city of Kirranî, and the Ankoreni-backed terrorist attack upon the city of Qataniyah.

17. An immediate cessation of all Ankoreni funding for the All-Nautasian Party, the Islamic Liberation Army, and all other Islamic Collectivist terror groups within Siphria.

18. An immediate and permanent cessation of all Ankoreni hostility towards the Baha'i Republic of Siphria and the other free nations of Nautasia, including but not limited to Mazaristan, Rifat, Pisdara, and Saheil.

If our demands are meant peacefully, then all hostages will be released peacefully and unharmed. Unfortunately, some were harmed during the initial confrontation; however, no harm has been done to them since, and we will care for them as needed so long as the Ankoreni government refuses to concede to our demands. We will take no action to harm the hostages, unless we are provoked to do so by an attempt to free them forcefully. In the wake of any attempt to free the hostages forcefully, we will punish them to force acquiescence to our terms.

With the help of God, we will not be denied the justice that we deserve.

[Tuthina]

The winter sun rose from the evergreen mountain to the east, as its weak light illuminated the slumbering city. With the exception of few people who made their living in the dead of the night, the streets flanked by rows of small houses were mostly deserted - the warmth of home was more than enough to persuade most people to delay their daily schedule just a bit.

The same, though, was not true for Watan, as the young man dragged his boots across the thin layer of snow on the asphalt towards his destination, his body covered by a dull-coloured cloak. Letting out a puff of white air from his mouth, he turned his gaze around to ensure no one was nearby, before stepping into the alley between two unassuming buildings.

True to most of the country, the building of his destination was divided into front-end store and back-end living rooms. Standing before the backdoor, he once again turned around several times before raising his gloved hand to the metal door. Reciting from his memory, the knuckle knocked on the door with a specific pattern.

Soon afterwards, the small panel on the metal door slid open, revealing a pair of cautious eyes scanning Watan. “State your business.”

“Generator fuel delivery.” The young man answered, gesturing to the bag he was carrying with him.

“Come on in.” The eyes whispered to him as the sound of metal grinding against each other could be heard behind the door. It soon opened to reveal a female in similarly humble garments. Despite looking only slightly older than him, her eyes seem to betray a much more experienced life. Without wasting any moment, the young man moved into the building as the female shut the door close once more.

“You’re a bit late, Watan.” She commented as the thick metal bar blocked the door once more. Several other individuals were already in the back room, with one smoking a cigarette and another reading a book.

“Sorry, miss Hanïlpul. Had to take a detour at the station.” He handed his bag to the smoking one, who quickly took it to the living room next door.

“They’re becoming restive, aren’t they?” Hanïlpul asked as she saw Watan removing his boots. The two soon followed others into the living room, where about ten people were already there, taking a seat on the straw mat floor. The one with cigarette had already put it out, and was now leaning against a small mountain of bags and backpacks.

“Yeah, just like Qutëk said.” The young man turned his gaze towards the other side of the room, where a grey-haired man was sitting against the wall and looking at them. “Something is going on in the palace.”

“What seems to be the matter?” Despite his suppressed voice, the man was able to pick up the mention of his name and asked the two as they took their seat. The others around also turn their focus towards them.

“Just a chit chat, nothing important, Qutëk.” Hanïlpul answered.

“Very well, at least everyone is here on time.” The old man’s voice was a bit hoarse, showing his advanced age. That said, he never seemed to lose his sharp eyes and mind of his prime years as he scanned the room once more.

“The turmoil within the monarchist government have grown stronger since our last meeting. My informants on the inside confirmed that some of the cliques are preparing to oust the others.” With a nod, one of the men sitting next to Qutëk unfurled a map of the city between them. Its streets and blocks were littered with writing and marking erased and rewritten multiple times over. “While it makes their agents more active than many of you have seen since joining our group, it’s also a distraction that we can exploit. The scavengers might be too busy fighting among themselves over our carrion of a nation to notice our activity, even ones that will eventually end their corrupting reign.”

“With any luck, what we’re about to do might startle them enough tear down the façade between them. It’s probably our best chance in decades.” His hand gestured to one of the larger blocks on the map in city centre. Like most of them on the map, the mark for tourist attraction and historical site was circled several times over. “With help from our comrades, most notably Hanïlpul, we’ve found a security weak point in the mausoleum. We can smuggle an entire van into the building during their change of guards, with them none the wiser.”

“And that’s precisely what we’re doing. Follow the plan and pay the mausoleum a visit with the cargo.” Several men passed slips of paper to the rest of the group, each of them with just a time and a place. “There will be no contact between us once we leave here until we converge again after the dust have settled down. You must follow the schedule. Any delay and you will not only jeopardise the entire operation, but also get caught in the destruction. Neither of them are acceptable, for we still have a lot of work to do.”

“It seems that we’ll be in the same team. Western chamber.” Watan whispered to Hanïlpul next to him as they compare their slip. They have the same time and place written on them, although her note has an additional symbol.

“Hanïlpul and Kurikana has the trigger. Watan and Mirit has the additional duty to stay watch as they set it up.” The four mentioned nodded upon Qutëk mentioning their name.

“That’s all.” The elder cleared his throat as he stood up. “We wield the blaze to renew our time.”

“We wield the blaze to renew our time.” The rest of the group stood up and repeated their chant. With the meeting ending, they soon divide the bags among themselves and carried them on their back. Picking up an additional, somewhat heavy backpack, Watan approached Hanïlpul as they walk out of the back door.

It was a relatively short stroll from the district to the down town. As the land warmed up under the pale sun, the streets finally woke up from their slumber, as workers and students alike commute to place they had to be at, just like the duo. While their luggage was somewhat cumbersome, the weight of their task strained Watan’s shoulders more.

Soon, their target loomed over them as they cross the final road crossing. A large complex of wood and stone, the mausoleum was the final resting place of ancient nobles and renowned individuals of the city for more than a millennium.

A physical symbol of the shackles and decay on the body of the nation.

The cold winter of the north probably deterred most tourists and locals from visiting this place today. The mostly deserted surroundings let Watan make a small sigh of relief: he knew that there were no insurrection without bloodshed, but the irony of killing civilians whose only sin was being at the wrong place at the wrong time to advance their rights was not lost on him either.

“Stage fright?” Hanïlpul lowered her voice as they made their way to one of the buildings within the enclosure. A large wooden hall built on top of a stone foundation, this chamber housed the garments and accessories of some noble houses who once ruled over the city and its surroundings. Even centuries after their departure, the stylised rose of their family emblem still hung above every visitors to this day, once again reaffirming the senile nature of the system.

“No, miss.” Watan shook his head, at the same time eyeing the interior of the building. With the time on his watch matching perfectly of that on his slip, it appeared that the structure was indeed devoid of visitors and guards alike, with only deafening silence echoing beneath the wooden ceilings. “Just relieved that no one else is around.”

“Of course. I spent enough time here to decipher their schedule that they almost recognised me. Almost.” Hanïlpul barely suppressed her pride as she repeated Watan’s action, before leading him behind one of the larger wooden pillars of the hall. After laying down their package, Watan stood in front of it and kept his eyes on the surroundings, while the female opened her backpack. On top of a rows of paper bags stuffed full with some kind of powder sat a small cardboard box, some of its corners dent in the process of transfer. Several electric wires extruded from its dull surface, connecting it to a cheap mobile phone.

“Yeah. We’re just here to burn down the lingering ghosts of history, maybe literally in this case. Would be bad to catch any future citizens in the blaze.” Hanïlpul nodded in agreement to Watan’s statement as her fingertips pressed the keypad on the phone. The faint glow from the screen, as well as the ticking digital timer shown on it affirmed her that this part of the trigger was working.

“Okay, time to go.” She zipped the bag shut once more, before tapping the shoulder of her companion. With a nod, they hastily distanced themselves from the pillar and strolled back to the doorway. Mere moments afterwards, two well-dressed and armed guards arrived at the building, casually talking about a local noodle store and unaware of the brief visit by Watan and Hanïlpul now hiding behind a nearby tree.

“When will it go off?” Watan whispered as he followed her footsteps behind another building. Overlooking the main entrance, they can see Kurikana and Mirit making their leave already.

“Three.”

“Three?”

“… two, one…”

Before Watan could react, an ear-piercing thunder echoed behind them, followed by a warm wave of dusty air rushing through them. Instinctively turning his head towards the source of the disruption, the young man was just in time to witness a nascent inferno erupting from the wooden doorframe, consuming the rose emblem as the guards ran away in panic. Blades of flame slid through planks and beams forming the building, and sparks poured through the collapsing walls near the pillar. The gust of hot air from the blaze soon turned into waves of cold, dry winter air rushing into it, carrying the flame upward towards the ceiling as black smoke rose into the pale sky.

Another explosion sprang into existence at the other side of the complex mere seconds later, alongside screams of terror as the few visitors and guards made their hasty exit. Some of the personnel attempted to fight against the inevitable with hoses and extinguishers. However, while they might be capable of putting out fire caused by faulty wiring or cigarette butts, the packages littered across the mausoleum were there to ensure that nothing will stop the fire from consuming everything within the enclosure.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Hanïlpul murmured to Watan as they ran out of the building, just in time to hear a third explosion behind them. For a brief moment, though, a faint echo of screams seemed to have leaked into his ears alongside the crackling of burning wood. By the time they reached the asphalt road, a small crowd had gathered outside, watching the inferno unfold.

“… yeah.” The two ran into an alley before finally stopping, turning around to marvel their work as the black smoke condensed into a cap-like cloud above the site.

“It’s probably a bit late to ask… are you sure no one were there?” Watan voiced his concern despite it no longer relevant.

“Of course. Don’t worry about it: everything’s going just as planned.” Hanïlpul offered a reassuring smile as she patted his shoulder. “Time to go. I know a good eatery nearby.”

[Union of Akoren]

---

To the noble and kind people of Nautasia we are the Nautasian Freedom Defence Front, we are the Black Hand.

We praise the martyrs of Carillion, they're sacrifice has sent a painful message to the heart of the Imperialist Cabal. Their actions reminded the rapists of Nautasia that they are not untouchable. They are reminded that the furious vengeance of the Nautasian people reaches all four corners of the globe.

We call upon the Muslims and Nautasians in Ainin, Luziyca and any other nation that seeks to oppose unification, to strike the imperialist state institutions. Act in name of the Carillion Martyrs, act in their image and bring pain to the enemies of Islam, Christianity and Yazidism. Together we are unstoppable in Nautasia, but through you, we can be unstoppable across the world.

It took the Aininian regime a week to defeat our efforts, a week of humiliation successfully inflicted. This can be achieved again, it must. Until the arrogant powers withdraw from Nautasia, this must continue. We must resist in our Nautasian homeland, but also in the lairs of the enemy. Resist, resist, resist.

We praise the Carillion Martyrs, we march now in their names, we call on you to join us.

Nautasia Prevails.

[Luzarra]

“It isn't a matter of forgetting. What one has to learn is how to remember and yet be free of the past.” ― Aldous Huxley, Island

---

Part I: “The Island”
The Port of Loiola
Erlantzga, Urrunaga, Luzarra

The decaying port town beckoned the man into its languid embrace. The nature of his work compelled him thus so. The deep, rumbling sea called out to him, though the endless waters were not what drew him there to begin with. As old as time it seemed, the sea was still steeped in magnificence, though unfortunately the same could not be said of the island that rose from the surface.

The island was named Erlantzga, a small subdivision off the coast of the large Urrunaga province in the northern part of the island of Luzarra. Luzarra was already a remote country, Urrunaga more so, and Erlantzga even more remote than that. It might have been the most remote island in the world, if the locals were to be believed. Perhaps it had seen better days, but that would imply that Erlantzga had seen anything that wasn’t bleak.

In bygone days of yore, the island served many unusual roles, ranging from a pirate den to a getaway sanctuary for the monarchy during times of plague, to a lookout over the western seas and as a destination for fringe groups. Throughout its history however it was an important whaling and fishing hub, and much of the local culture was built up around those maritime professions. The local populace took great pride in those traditions, often running through families going back centuries. In fact, some of the tallest tales and richest stories were the ones that were told in Erlantzga.

The island was a focal point of Luzarran superstitions as well. Many locals regarded it as sacred, hallowed ground of the Old Gods, who lurked beneath the depths of the sea and deep within the heart of the island. Some even said that the island itself was an Old God, slumbering since time immemorial until such a time came that he might be stirred. Though such legends were often the subject of great debate, none disputed that the island was unusual. Strange noises could often be heard from the heart of the island where the forests were old and thick, and where mythical creatures were said to stalk the mists.

With a steady gait, the man walked along the cracked and potholed-ridden paved path towards his ultimate destination. The man was tall and thin, wearing a long brown shearling coat, with black slacks and shoes emerging from underneath. His hair was a short dark brown color, and his eyes a foggy grey. Though largely clean-shaven, there was the hint of five-o-clock shadow on his face, especially around his straight, tight-lipped mouth.

He had been on the island for little over a week now, pursuing a lead in his field of work. It wasn’t a good place to be for an extended period of time if one could avoid it. The radiance of the dawn’s light had only barely penetrated the thick clouds above and the ominous fog below, casting a dull, eerie glow in the narrow streets of the port town. As a result, hoods of black shadow swelled faintly against the sides of fissured stone buildings and decaying wooden facades.

Coils of vaporous mist enwrapped the weathered street lamps and the gnarled leafless trees lining the streets. They writhed around them like a magician’s trick-smoke, mysterious and illusory. Sieves of misty waves caressed the lichen-encrusted sea stacks beyond, undaunted by eternal persistence of the sea to bring them down to the depths. All the same, the waves crashed with deadly intent. It amplified sound as it pounded the docks, filling all the empty spaces along the coast. A distant, yet reverberating noise filled the air all around him, subtle in the distance. In these wee hours of the morn, none stirred, the windows of the quaint harbor homes shuttered. Only the sound of the sea, like the constant tones of a great, ominous beast, entombed the island.

Slowly the light emerged to vanquish the looming mists. Like the luminal glow of the gods, it chased the shadows, but the gloom remained, and where the mist once stalked, now there were colors of rustic brown and grey. The sounds of dock workers split the silence just as the town became illuminated in dull light. A fusillade of whistles and shouting bellowed all around him as figures came into view off in the distance, laboring on the docks. The man noticed this, and walked into a narrow alley off of the street.

The poverty of the port town was revealed in the scarce light poking into the alleys. Worn brick exteriors stood tenuously, lined with rusty rail stairs and ladders, clotheslines reaching between them over the alley. The ground looked like burnt toast and a layer of grime clasped its crusty exterior. The first blush of the morn gave the filthy pavement an almost walnut brown complexion.

Idling past the occasional flowerpot sitting upon windowsills and back decks. He caressed them softly, getting tingles in his otherwise steady fingers. His ears perked up at the sounds of people shuffling about behind open windows, no doubt feeling the brisk mourning air. It flashed with a tinsel tint through the lace of garb hanging from the clotheslines by clips and pins. When the alley parted he could see, in the heart of a small plaza, a pool with a fountain rising from it. Even from there, he could see the pool’s water, an almost lime-color, with skeins of swirl-grey twisting slowly on the surface. An old, dull spillway led to the choppy pond below. Large stones swarmed around the edge of the pool, buffed with pillows of moss. They caused a rocky gurgling as water met stone; a swish, a clunk, a swell and a clop. Pungent fragrances, sanguine and off-putting, seemed to flit in and out of his awareness. Sight and smell vied for attention in this soul-draining dream world.

The man put his back against an ivy covered wall near the edge of the alley, leaning his head briefly against the rough, uneven surface. He closed my eyes, and even if just for one fleeting moment, let his stream of consciousness take hold, and drifted into infinity. When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t recall where his mind drifted, but surely it was to a better place than where he found himself.

I have been alone. This man is an island.
The cliffs of my shoulder blades
hang heavy with grief, ore, suffering.
I am draped with the permanence of gravity,
So do not believe that you cannot move.
Come to me, water babes fully grown,

Allow yourself to be swept in salt and ash.
Tumble with your brothers into my arms
and be at peace, at last, on the shore.
I too was once drowned, but I arose
and as the caps melt, all things will erode
For no man is an island alone.

The man turned into an adjacent alley on the right, where his destination awaited him at its end. Like the other houses it was connected, with no gaps between them. Most of them were two stories, either all the same house or a split level, the house in question being the former. It featured the main door, a window on each side of it, and then two more above. Like the others it was a worn brick and stone building with a flat roof, where a chimney peaked over the edge.

Approaching the front door, the man looked around to his left and right. There was nobody in the alley behind him, nor to his left or right. Looking ahead once more, he quietly and carefully approached the door and turned the knob, only to find it was locked. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his lockpicking kit, and extracted the tools he needed to open the lock, which he did quickly, locking the door behind him as he entered the house.

The inside of the house was dark, though the man could see that it was sparsely decorated. There were a few old, ragged chairs arranged around a round coffee table and fireplace, as well as a small bookshelf with only a few books arranged upon it, mostly historical fiction. The small kitchen looked hardly used, and it too was bare of any abundance of food. Likewise, the bathroom was small and relatively clean.

Walking up the narrow flight of stairs, he found a bedroom with only a bed, nightstand and dresser in it, and another room that was empty aside from some baskets of clothes.

To his satisfaction, there was no one home, and so the man walked back downstairs and approached the light the hung from the ceiling. Gently, he pulled out a serrated knife and cut the cord before picking a chair to sit down in. Then he waited, looking at his surroundings in a little more detail. Above the fireplace, resting upon the mantle was a pole hook, which featured three large fish hooks fitted onto a long wooden pole to create a fishing implement, used for hauling in fish.

It was while the man was examining the pole hook that he could hear the door begin to open again. In stepped a middle-aged man of average height, with black hair and blue eyes wearing a coat, thick grey shirt and overalls with tall rubber boots. He shut the door behind him and went to turn on the light. When the light wouldn’t come on, he groaned, and entered the room, walking at a brisk pace towards the kitchen.

“Mr. Ochengaray,” the seated man called out gently. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mr. Ochengaray stopped, and turned around slowly. When he saw the seated man, he let out a long sigh. “Danel Uharte…it’s been a long time. You were much younger when I last saw you. There’s no need for this mister shit…you know my name is Benny.” Looking towards the kitchen, he added, “you want some tea, Danel? Maybe some biscuits.”

“…No,” the man known as Danel answered. “Mr. Ochengaray,” he continued, “You know who I am…do you know why I’m here?” Danel leaned back in his chair, and sat crossed legged with his hands resting on his leg. “Maybe you’d like to sit down? There’s much we need to talk about, so you may want to…for this.”

Benny hesitated, choosing instead to remain standing in the living room. “I know what you’ve been up to, Danel. What you’ve been doing the past four years. All those accidents…you caused those, didn’t you?” Benny laughed, and added that “you know, I never would have thought you’d be capable of all that. You were always timid. Never willing to make the tough decisions.”

Danel shifted in his chair and tapped his knee as he thought about what Benny said to him. “If you know what I’ve been up to then you know why I’m here. Mr. Ochengaray, His Majesty’s Government is aware of your participation in the Revolutionary Front, and I don’t have to explain to you why that’s a problem. I solve problems…that’s my job. I make them go away.”

“That’s what this is about isn’t it?” Benny laughed. “I get it…you’re just a glorified hitman for the royal bigwigs, aren’t you?” searching Danel’s eyes, Benny flashed a sad expression. “What did they do to you, Danel? You were the best of us. You’ve changed…Gods be good, you have changed…”

“Mr. Ochengaray,” Danel went on, unfazed. “By order of His Majesty’s Government, I ask you to come with me for questioning. Terrorism, Sedition and Treason are very serious charges. I have all the papers I need to do as I must, but I’d very much prefer this gets done quickly and easily. Look at it like this…depending on what you’re willing to share, whatever they try to stick you with might not be so bad. Hell, I’m sure that if you’re especially forthcoming, they would consider wiping the slate clean, and letting you get a fresh start. No more hiding in alley houses on the fringe of the kingdom, working on the docks. You could go back home…back to your family.”

“My family…” His voice trailing off, Benny seemed to think long and hard about that. “I’ve been away for too long. They probably think I’m dead, or at least that they’ve moved on. There’s no sense in beating around the bush with you, Danel. The Revolutionary Front is something that has given my life purpose. It’s goals are something I can leave to my children once realized. A better future for them. That’s worth the sacrifices I’ve made.”

At this, Danel cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “There’s no glory to be had in this life, Benny. It never ends well. It didn’t for the others, and it won’t for you. There’s only two ways you can proceed. One works out reasonably well for you, and the other doesn’t. You’re a smart man Benny, I know you realize the truth of what I’m saying.”

“What happened to all the rest?” Benny asked. “All those others that died…did they take you up on your offer? Did you kill them anyway? Those were good people, Danel. Those were your friends…your father’s friends. I know they didn’t truly die in fires, car accidents or hunting incidents. That would be too coincidental, now wouldn’t it? You see this isn’t about what’s smart and what’s not, this is about doing the right thing, even when doing the right thing won’t end well for you. That’s what your father believed, and that’s what I believe.”

My father… Danel for the first time felt acutely uncomfortable, before recomposing himself. “We can go on all day about right and wrong, Mr. Ochengaray. It’s a matter of perspective.”

Benny snorted with incredulity at that statement. “Is that what those corrupt, morally bankrupt royal sycophants told you? They’ve got your head so far up your ass that you can see the light.”

Danel sighed. “You know what happens to marked persons who resist, Mr. Ochengaray.” Exhaling deeply, Danel conceded, “you’re a good man, Benny. Yeah, I still know your name. Come with me peaceably, and this will go pleasantly for both of us. I’d like that… I really would.”

“I’m sure you would,” Benny countered angrily. “Problem is, if I talk, a lot more good people are going to get hunted down, threatened, and possibly killed. It’s been years, and you’re just now finding me. All this time I’ve been right under your nose, living a quiet life working at the docks. Killing me won’t make a difference, Danel. The revolution is coming, and it doesn’t matter how many people you murder. The more of us that die, the more people emerge to take our place. Would the monarchy kill everyone if it came down to that?”

Danel closed his eyes and shook his head. From his coat pocket he pulled out a silenced pistol, and laid it on his lap. “That’s none of my concern, or yours, for that matter. The King and his Government do as they shall. So shall I, Benny. It’s nothing personal…it’s business.”

“Your father would be ashamed of you” snorted Benny, his face flushed red. “What he lived for, what he stood for…what he died for. You’re just pissing on all of that now, aren’t you? All those wars, all that death. Look around you, Danel. The monarchy will be the ruin of this once proud nation. I’ve heard that the king is ill…do you think that his son and heir will be any different…any better? If you do you’re a fool. All you have to do is leave…walk right out that door, and I’ll forget that anything happened. We can save this country before it’s too far gone. You were once a Paragon, Danel…you can be that again.”

“…I don’t have time for this, Benny.” Danel let his hand rest atop his pistol. “I need you to make a choice. We all have choices to make. I made mine long ago. It’s your turn now. What’s it going to be?”

“…I already have.” In a swift motion, Benny dove at Danel just as the latter gripped his pistol. Benny tackled Danel and pushed over the chair, causing both of them to come crashing to the floor. Benny was a large man, but Danel was stronger, grappling with Benny in order to get a clear shot, but to no avail. The gun was knocked away from Danel’s hand as Benny began punching Danel in the face.

Danel gave Benny a ferocious headbutt before scrambling across the floor to pick up his gun. Benny meanwhile stood up and took the pole hook off the wall above the fireplace and swung it down at Danel, in an attempt to bury it in the man’s back. Noticing this out of the corner of his eye, Danel rolled to the side, causing the pole hook to drive into the wooden floor.

With a savage kick to the belly, Benny staggered backwards as he crunched over in pain, while Danel crawled forward and reached out for his gun. Taking it in his hand, he rolled over only to find Benny standing over him again with the pole hook about to come crashing down on Danel’s head. As the pole hook was coming down, Danel aimed and fired one silenced shot.

The pole hook went flying out of Benny’s hand as the bullet struck it, and Benny once again fell down on Danel, grabbing his wrist and squeezing it so tight that the pistol escaped Danel’s grasp, and choking him with his other hand. Big mistake. With his one free hand, Danel reached for the serrated knife in his coat pocket and pulled it out. Just as this was happening, Benny reached for Danel’s gun.

With a grunt, Danel kneed Benny in the groin and had an opportunity to flip him on his back, which he did. Benny had the gun in his hand ready to bring up and shoot Danel, but before he could do that, Danel slid his knife into Benny’s chest. Not wanting Benny to make too much noise, Danel put his hand over his mouth, and then he waited. Before long, Benny was dead, bleeding out on the floor.

Damnit. Wiping his knife off on Benny’s coat, Danel put away his gun and surveyed the living room. Carefully, he put everything back to where it was before the scuffle, and dragged Benny’s body into the kitchen. Once there, Danel began maneuvering around some of the appliances. Once he found the gas line, he cut it, and then he turned the stove on.

Danel already knew what the story was going to be. Mr. Ochengaray left for work late last night not knowing there was a gas leak in his house. When he returned home from his shift the following morning, he went to the kitchen and turned on the stove in order to cook breakfast. By this time his house had been filled with gas, and the lit stove ignited it, causing an explosion that killed Mr. Ochengaray.

Once he was finished arranging the scene to his satisfaction, Danel went back out the door and locked it behind him. Back out in the alley, he looked around before settling on walking in the direction of the dirty pool and fountain. The street there had a few cars parked along the curb, and a few people were out and about, though none paid him any mind. Danel began walking down the length of the street, letting his mind wander as he went.

Glitter of a blade,
Piercing of a scream,
Splatter of red blood
As it runs into a stream.

Footsteps in the darkness,
Heavy breath from behind,
Rush away to escape,
As was first designed.

Ignore the plaguing nightmares
Ignore the taunting voice
Ignore the niggling doubts
That you didn't make the right choice.

Though death do you face,
Do not ever turn aside,
'Tis as destiny has planned,
That the hells may you reside.

Several blocks down the street was a quaint bed and breakfast establishment called the Seafarer’s Sojourn, if the sign swinging from the post above the door was to be believed. Danel’s eyes seldom strayed from the establishment as he made his way to it. The building was old, no doubt, a two-story wooden building in the heart of old town Loiola. On sure feet, Danel approached the wooden door and opened it.

The interior was as quaint as the exterior, and smelled of cooking food. There was a bar and more than a dozen round tables and half as many booths inside, as well as men and women’s bathrooms and an old jukebox that looked like it had been there since the seventies. The only other person there besides the servers was an older man reading a newspaper at one of the tables.

Danel picked a booth and sat down, taking a menu from the rack against the wall not long thereafter. “A little young to be coming in this early for breakfast eh?” the old man said with a smirk, poking above his paper to see Danel.

“I’m a morning person,” Danel answered before turning back to the menu.

“Is that right? Well then, you’ve come to the right place,” laughed the old man. “My name is Jacobo…I’m a regular here. Never seen you here before…must be new around town.”

“…Yeah, you could say that.” Before long the server came to take Danel’s order. “Salted ham and marmitako please, with cider.” Then the server was off. “I don’t suppose you’d have seen me before.”

Jacobo laughed. “Well there are over…twenty-five million people in Luzarra between these islands. Can’t know em all. I suppose I know the people worth knowing though. I knew the old king from our time in the Royal Navy. He was a hard man. He was nice, but stern, that one. We were in the war, saw the worst of it. You know how the old saying goes, ‘old men declare war and young men die in war.’” Casting a piercing gaze at Danel, Jacobo asked him “have you ever been in a war, son?”

“…Life is war, old timer,” Danel answered. “It’s a war that doesn’t end, and you always lose. Yet we fight it all the same, for one reason or another. Some for duty, some for love, some for enjoyment…others because it’s all they know how to do.”

“Well said,” nodded Jacobo as his food arrived. It consisted of scrambled eggs, grapefruit, bacon and juice. “My war is going to be coming to an end soon. I’ve lived long and well, and seen a great many things. There’s not much else for me to see that I haven’t already. This country has run out of surprises too…in my day it was so full of promise, but now? I pity you, son.”

Danel gave him a puzzled look. “Never doubt what this country is capable of. His Majesty’s Government has a plan to keep things on the up and up.”

The old man laughed again, and countered “look around you and tell me if things are on the up and up! The world is a big place, certainly a lot bigger than Luzarra! I’ve seen a lot of it over the years. It amazes me just how big it is…and just how small we are. You’ll realize that once you’ve traveled the world.

Who says I haven’t already? Danel witnessed some firetrucks sounding their sirens as they went rolling down the street from around the corner, and then his food arrived. The salted ham was crisp and steaming, while the marmitako was hot and fresh, consisting of fish stew, potatoes, onions and tomatoes. He did not order a drink, opting instead to drink the water provided before breakfast. “I don’t think the world is as interesting as you make it out to be, old timer. Maybe it is at first and for a little while, but then it becomes very old hat.”

“Nothing’s more old hat than Luzarra, son. There’s a reason why they refer to these islands as shit-stained rocks,” Jacobo laughed for a few seconds until it turned into a cough. “I’m from right here in on Erlantzga, born and raised. Worked on the fishing boats. I don’t really mind it because that’s all I’ve ever known. As the saying goes, ‘be happy with what you have to be happy with.’ Those are words to live by.”

“And if you have nothing?” Danel asked as he cut into his salted ham. “What then?”

Jacobo grinned and began to chuckle at that. “Well I suppose that if you have nothing, and you can be happy with that, you’d be the happiest man in the world.”

“…That’s one way of looking at it.” Talking to this old sailor made Danel consider what Benny said earlier, ironically. Here was a man who loved the sea, spent his whole life working it, but now in the twilight of his days, realized that others might not be able to enjoy the same opportunities that he did in his youth. To spend all your life doing something, only to realize in the end that it may have been in vain surely would be a terrible feeling indeed…

Where had I heard this wind before
That scatters wreckage across the shore,
The ocean races wildly before its breath
And some poor sailor meets his death.

Upon the land angry waves do crash
Trees bend low and their branches lash,
Yellow streaks spear 'cross black skies
And salty tears sting sailors’ eyes.

Thunder roars and rumbles on high
Winter comes when the night is nigh,
Scours the land with rain and hail
While beside a fire an old man tells a tale.

Of ghosts that walk along the beach
Back through time bone fingers reach,
Pirates and Kings’ men replay old battles
As in its frame the window rattles.

Creaks and groans heard through the wind
Under wreckage poor souls are pinned,
No starlight nor moon that glows
As long as powerful tempest blows.

Where had I heard this wind before?
Twas when death knocked at my door.

While he was eating, Danel noticed a vibration in his pocket. My phone, he thought as he pulled it out to see what it had said. The message was most troubling indeed, and one that he certainly hadn’t expected. The old king had died at last, after battling an illness for the better part of the year. While that news in and of itself wasn’t beyond expectation, what followed was…unexpected to say the least.

The Crown Prince had moved swiftly upon receiving word of his father’s death in the night. He quickly assumed the reins of royal power apparently, and among other things, say fit to recall Danel to the royal court in Aberasturi. Danel hadn’t been in the capital in almost four years, having been in the field ever since he was last there, and if truth be told, he was in no hurry to return either. Too much politics…

“Something wrong?” asked Jacobo as he spooned his grapefruit. “The food’s so good here that you’d only stop eating if something’s wrong,” he laughed.

Danel just shook his head. “No…nothing’s wrong. Not yet anyway.” Quickly, Danel finished his food and left a generous sum of cash on the table, certainly enough to cover the cost of his meal and a tip. “It was nice talking to you old timer, but I should be going. I’ve got places to be.”

Jacobo had a twinkle in his eye. “Aw, such a shame, son, though I suppose we all got places to go, one way or the other. Just remember what they say about good old Erlantzga. You can leave the island, but the island never leaves you. Funny old thing my grandfather used to tell me, you see.” The old man waved his hand and continued, “bah, I shouldn’t keep you any longer. Go, and be well and safe in your travels. The world is a dangerous place.”

Yes it is. “Farewell, old timer.” Danel inclined his head, and turned to walk away, straight out the door. Deciding upon his course of action, he figured he’d take a boat to the island of Luzarra, and then catch a plane in Urrutia to Aberasturi. There he would find out why the new king summoned him to court. Did he have some sort of plans for Danel? Probably, Danel thought as he walked along the street. Kings and Islands always do…

[Siphria]

https://www.eliluaburrim.sp/en/library/poets/ksiltahu/i_am_an_aburrite

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Aburrite poetry, preserved online

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I am an Aburrite
by Kezru Šiltāḫu (1837-1922)

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I am an Aburrite.
I was born in a village whose name
Is older than any word you have ever spoken.
I live inside the crowded ghetto
That you have jailed us in for generations.
I wear the bright red badge
Made to shame me into abandoning my people.

I am an Aburrite.
My ancestors were reaping wheat
Before yours had even figured out how to grow it.
My roots were planted in this land
Before those of the cedars and the cypresses.
The sweet fruits you savor
Are grown from soil seeped in my blood.

I am an Aburrite.
Your great splendid cities are built
Upon the ruins of the cities of ours that you plundered.
The fields you leave your children
Are the fields you have stolen from us and our children.
You have left us nothing
But the blood in our veins and the rage in our hearts.

I am an Aburrite.
I am exempt from the laws
That protect you from the evildoers.
My life is forfeit to the state,
For I can be abused without repercussion.
There is no justice for us,
Who must be beaten out of our ways.

I am an Aburrite.
My language is not to be spoken,
And we are warned not to teach it to our children.
My gods are denounced at all times
As savage idols, to be smelted down and annihilated.
My heritage is to be made a curse,
In the hopes I can be tortured into betraying it.

But I am still an Aburrite.
You have bloodied me for centuries,
And yet my head remains unbowed.
You have robbed me of everything,
And yet I have not given into you.
I have not betrayed my forefathers,
In spite of every injustice you have made me suffer.

I am an Aburrite.
There is no pain we have not endured,
Yet you have not forced us into submission.
There is no blow we have not suffered,
Yet you have not stopped our hearts.
There is no catastrophe we have not endured,
Yet we still raise our voices in song.

Truly, then, there is no prouder thing to say than this:
I am an Aburrite.

Šiltāḫu, Kezru. I am an Aburrite: the Poems of Kezru Šiltāḫu. Ed. Našru Iškūrtahu. Akrê: Alkatu Publishing House, 2006. Republished online with permission.

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[Namor]

New Year's Address - January 1, 2018
Delivered by the President-General from Chucho, Riro
Full transcript

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My fellow countrymen,

Today, we witness history in the making. Not only do we welcome a new year, but a new member into our Namorese family. Words cannot describe how I feel as I join the people of Riro in celebrating their unification with the People’s Republic. Time and again, the Namorese of Riro have made it clear that their wish is to enter a union with us. After coming to office, I promised the Riroese people that the Namorese government will work with them to establish an agreement on unification. Last August, after months of hard work, President Ling Mon and I agreed to incorporate Riro into the People’s Republic as a district. That agreement is being implemented as I speak.

From this day forward, what was once a dream no longer is. What sounded like wishful thinking is now reality. Riro, welcome to Namor.

People of Riro, I want you to know that you are now part of a diverse, embracing, and changing country — a country of miracles. First was the miracle on the Nozama River that turned a country of fishing villages and low-rise buildings into a country of metropolises, skyscrapers, and high-speed trains. The second was the miracle of Minjuha that paved the way for all Namorese to have a say in how their country is governed, even when some thought such an outcome was impossible for a country that had been stuck with emperors for millennia.

The Namorese Miracle is not just an economic miracle, it’s many miracles that have demonstrated our ability to change, innovate, and make history. Riro may be small, but it can create miracles on its own. I do not hope Riro can write another chapter in the Namorese Miracle; I am certain Riro can write another chapter in the Namorese Miracle.

It wasn’t long ago when the Riroese people were burdened with questions about their identity and the legacy of their totalitarian past. But what matters most is our potential for change and our willingness to move on. I see Riro’s unification with Namor not as a loss for any particular country or person, but a time for the Riroese people to face the future with confidence. We can control our future only when we face the future.

Five months from now, the Riroese people will elect their first premier and district assembly. Given Riro’s history of elections, we expect a smooth transition to a popularly elected district government. The central government will work closely with Riro to ensure that these elections are a success. I urge all voters to make their voices heard, and I wish all candidates the best of luck. We are willing to work with whomever Riro elects to make the district of Riro a better place for all its inhabitants.

As we welcome 2018 and Riro with open arms, let us also take time to reflect upon the challenges we faced in the year we left behind. Last June, a magnitude 9.4 earthquake not so far from the Binh Minh archipelago triggered a series of monstrous waves that hit our southern coast. In the most devastating tidal wave in Namorese history since the Great Wave of 1794, over 10,000 Namorese were taken from us and 700,000 lost their homes. Millions around the world watched on in horror as nature unleashed its wrath on houses, hospitals, schools, and human lives. Many of us who witnessed the devastation firsthand could not help but think that we were finished. Nature had outmaneuvered us, and no pace of recovery would bring us back to our feet.

But less than a day after the wave struck, we witnessed the triumph of hope, optimism, and unity over the forces of desperation and hopelessness. Everyone — from the gulf to the coast — transcended their differences to help rebuild what was destroyed. Everyone found a way to help — be it donating to relief efforts, giving blood, or even traveling to disaster-affected areas. In the end, the donations, the blood drives, the rescue operations of our military personnel, the candlelight vigils all sent the same message — that we are truly a People’s Republic, a republic of 520 million compassionate and resilient people who can overcome everything and anything.

Back in June, the people convinced me that however powerful a tidal wave may be, it cannot stop a great civilization like our’s from moving forward. I am still convinced today, and I will remain convinced. As I speak, businesses in the coast are reopening, students are returning to school, and people are returning to their homes. Thanks to the Regeneration Act passed by the Central Council in July, not only are we going to rebuild, but we are going to build on top on what we’ve rebuilt. Our economy is projected to experience growth in the new year, as it did in the fourth quarter. By 2019, both our GDP growth rate, the employment rate, and consumer confidence are expected to return to pre-wave levels.

Progress cannot be realized through inaction. Together as a nation, we worked hard to rebuild, but we cannot relax now, for there is still a lot of work ahead. So long as some of our children who have to travel to another town or prefecture to receive their education because their local schools lay in ruins, and some of our fellow citizens are living in tents, my administration will recognize reconstruction as the mother of all priorities. Soon after returning to Namo, I will establish a National Recovery Council. With input from both the government and opposition, local-level officials, members of the academia, and other knowledgeable individuals, the council will be tasked with assessing the pace of our recovery from the tidal wave and guide all policies pertaining to national reconstruction. More importantly, the council will point out any flaws in our recovery policies and recommend solutions. This council’s work will not cease until it considers Namor to have fully recovered from the tidal wave.

When I ran for President-General, I said that “the people need to elect leaders who are competent, do as the people please and is willing to cooperate with parties across the political spectrum to build a better People's Republic.” Since inauguration day, my administration has worked with all parties in Central Council to develop comprehensive policies and respond to the needs of all people. Last October, the Central Council established a commission to assess the efficacy of our response to the tidal wave. I have cooperated with the commission, and I will continue cooperating with them so they can release a candid and satisfying assessment of the government’s response. As a government beholden to the people, we welcome objective insights regarding our work and will not hesitate to address any flaws in our work. For only a competent and humble government can lead a country to greatness.

Greatness is within our sights. In less than a decade, we will observe two great consecutive anniversaries. In 2024, we will mark the 5000th anniversary of Nozama, the first kingdom and era of our civilization. In 2025, we will mark the centenary of the People’s Republic — the completion of the First Stage of our Revolution. In the 1920s, we emerged as a sovereign republic. Starting the 1950s, we emerged as a prosperous republic. Starting the 1960s, we emerged as a democratic republic. My hope is that the years 2024 and 2025 will mark our country’s emergence as a fully developed and dignified superpower.

A fully developed superpower is one whose economy is not just defined by a high level of development, but offers equal opportunities for all citizens and encourages sustainable growth. Last year’s Regeneration Act is only the beginning of a great recovery that will see us investing billions into infrastructure and other basic human services such as education and healthcare. In the meantime, we will strengthen the implementation of existing tax codes so that everyone pays their fair share. If we keep doing this, we will exceed 0.80 in the Human Development Index and fall below 40 in the Gini coefficient by the two great anniversaries.

With the help of the Central Council, we introduced the most comprehensive environmental law in Namorese history — the Climate and Environmental Protection Act. We also signed agreements with the Esquarian Community to eliminate all tariffs on renewable energy products, and we expect to sign similar agreements with the rest of the world. Under these policies, we expect over half of all Namorese households to rely on renewable energy by 2025, and we expect all coal plants to be phased out by 2035, consistent with my administration’s plan to achieve a coal-free economy.

A dignified superpower is one whose sovereignty and territorial integrity are fully respected. That means standing firm in the face of threats to our sovereignty. Last November, I ordered our brave pilots from the Namorese Liberation Air Force to conduct patrol the airspace above our prefecture of Nantai. The patrol flight successfully demonstrated both our capability and willingness to defend our territory. It has also sent a strong signal to our adversaries that all Namorese people expect a favorable closure to the Nantai Question. As the two great anniversaries approach, we expect the Luziycan regime to seriously cooperate with us to reach a favorable agreement on Nantai. In the meantime, we will continue to take steps to assert our sovereignty over our own territory, for it is within our right to do so.

A dignified superpower cannot disengage from an ever-changing, interconnected world. Today, the trend towards a new world order where developing and newly industrialized states enjoy a greater say in global governance is more irreversible than ever. As a newly industrialized state on its way to becoming a fully developed superpower, Namor has the potential to assist both developing and developed states in shaping this new order.

My administration has developed a foreign policy that recognizes the reality of a changing world, and Namor’s role in this changing world. As promised, Namor and the Esquarian Community signed a landmark association agreement that established permanent mechanisms for cooperation between the world’s largest democracy and the largest union of democracies. This agreement, which enjoys broad support among both the Namorese and Esquarian public, is crucial to the unity among countries that share a common belief in democracy, human rights, rule of law, and respect for international norms. With the help of the Central Council, we passed the Defense of Namorese Dignity Act, further reinforcing a mutually beneficial relationship with the Luziycan regime. In Aucuria, we successfully pressed the Esquarian Summit to reaffirm the importance of upholding the sovereignty and territorial integrity of states, in the resolution of conflicts in hotspots such as Nautasia.

It is important that we work with other countries that will play a more substantial role in the new order that is about to emerge. Namor will strengthen economic and military cooperation with other developing states. Through cooperation, we aspire to help each other prosper and fight for a bigger voice in the world.

Change, however exciting, always leads to uncertainty. Upholding international laws and norms, the very foundations of peace and prosperity everywhere, is an absolute prerequisite to a stable transition to the new era. Namor’s interests lie in defending the principles that have kept the world together. The principle that states should maintain their borders and sovereignty without having to fear of external aggression. The principle that states should not create spheres of influence based on outdated doctrines of containment. The principle that states should not profit from conquest. Times may change and the world may change, but the principles that enable peace cannot be changed. Through our participation in Cenba and our partnership with other countries that share our values, we will make sure these principles are not challenged.

2017 has been both a challenging and promising year for the Namorese people. From a tragedy unseen in generations arises the long task of retrieving what was lost. But here in the district of Riro, optimism abounds. Even after watching us pick up the pieces of what once stood, the new Namorese standing around me are confident that they have joined the right country.

During my visit to Khao, I met Mr. Yung, an 80 year-old Riroese citizen, and his wife, Mrs. Zeng, at a hospital in Ngam. The two are with us in Chucho now. Fortunately, the two were in Chucho when the tidal wave struck, but upon witnessing the destruction, headed south to help out. Mr. Yung always wanted to take a vacation to the south, the most developed region of our country. Little did he know that he would be visiting the south in ruins. Everything he saw was not like anything he had seen on the newspapers, magazines, or television.

But none of that disturbed him. As Mr. Yung cooked food for the homeless, I asked him if he was disappointed by what he saw. He then told me something I will never forget: “Your Excellency, the coast just got richer with the people.”

What “people” was he referring to? None other than the great people of the People’s Republic of Namor.

Thank you, have a happy new year, and long live our People’s Republic!

[Tuthina]

“Nyem-in!” With a sudden call of his name, the young teenager quickly switched the glowing computer screen before him. Pulling himself up from the straw mat floor, Nyem-in rushed towards the door to his room, sliding it open and revealing the main room of the flat.

“Yes, mother?” He asked, laying his eyes on the several backpacks on the mats. The middle-aged parents of the household did not share the leisure of their son, holding a checklist and examining each item inside each bag. Beside her father, a small pile of chocolate bars could be seen in a paper bag.

“Help us throw them out and get some new one from the store.” His father pointed towards the bag. “Your mother forgot to check and the bars expired.”

“It’s just, what, a week or two?” His mother complained as she wrapped a hand-held radio with several layers of plastic wrap and then aluminium foil. “It’s not like we’re actually using them.”

“Of course not, but that’s never the point!” The man quickly turned his head around, before leaning towards them and suppressing her voice. “The Censorate… their agents silt through your garbage and record them.”

“If they find out your emergency supply is expired… one wrong move and you will disappear.” Despite looking as serious as ever, neither his wife nor his son were able to take his words seriously. While Nyem-in kept his face straight out of respect, his mother saw no such qualm and chuckled.

“You’re just paranoid, dear. We’ve always been loyalists.” She shook her head before examining a gas mask where its rubber had certainly seen better days.

“But you never knew if you wronged someone with connections.” His wife did seem to calm him down a bit, as he turned towards the confused son. “When I was your age, I saw my neighbours being taken by them after the regular drill. Never saw them again.”

“I am not going to argue this. Just go take the garbage out and get some new one.” He pulled out his wallet and handed some bank notes to the boy. “Keep the change as your allowance.”

“Yes, sir.” Although the son still found the idea of the state security abducting someone just because of expired food to be ridiculous, some extra allowance was always good. Quickly taking the money, he strolled to the entryway and put on the socks and boots.

“Be careful out there.” Responding with a simply nod, Nyem-in walked out of the comfort of air-conditioning and into the warm summer night. Living on the first floor of the apartment, it took little time for him to climb down a flight of stairs and left the lobby for the garbage room.

Just as the boots stepped onto the asphalt, a silhouette emerged in the corner of his eye, just beyond the illumination of the street lamp. Perhaps haunted by lingering scaremongering from his father, Nyem-in instinctively stopped his steps and turned towards the lamp. The shadow, on the other hand, continued walking into the light, revealing itself to the teenager.

Like him and most people he knew, she was dressed in the traditional garment of the country - a T-shaped robe as upper garment, its hem tugged into a somewhat skirt. Usually secured with a knot around waist, the female before Nyem-in appeared to have tugged it upwards to the upper end of her abdomen, resulting in the side effect of making her well-endowed breasts more pronounced, as well as revealing more of her stocking-clad legs.

“My eyes are up there.” Her soft voice was more than enough to pull his attention back onto her face. Apart from having a pretty face, the girl - slightly older than him, it seemed - distinguished herself from most other girls with a chest-lengthed hair of gold.

“Oh… I’m sorry!” Realising his rude gaze, Nyem-in immediately bows in apology. However, instead of a slap or a kick that he was partly expecting, her response was a small, reserved chuckle. As he looked up, her amber eyes seemed to have fixated themselves on the paper bag he was holding. Maybe it was broken due to his sudden movement?

“What a large bag of chocolate. Could it be a present for a fair lad like me?” It was hard to tell if she was joking or not. Already racing due to the panic and the interrupted activity, his heart beat in further discord as the attractive girl looked into his eyes.

“No, I was just going to throw them away!” He burped out his answer without thinking. The mysterious girl, strolled closer, putting herself within his reach and stared into his eyes with a smile.

“Really? You would rather throw such a gift away than to give me that?”

“Th-they’ve expired!” Immediately after answering, she extended her gloved hand and took one of the bars protruding from the tear and examined the package.

“For ten days.” The girl giggled as she opened the package, revealing the still pristine-looking chocolate bar. “See? Still as good as new.”

“I know… but dad won’t shut up about it. Something about the emergency supply.” The boy shrugged.

“Give them to me.” Her sudden question made his stiff body paused for a moment, responding with a confused sound.

“What? You’re throwing them away anyway.” Not waiting for an answer, the blonde female already took a bite of the bar and relished in its bitter taste. “Black chocolate is the best!”

“Well, I guess it’s better than wasting them. Who are you, anyway?” By the time he noticed it, they had already walked a dozen steps from his apartment.

“Shouldn’t you be introducing yourself? That poor manner is not going to get you laid!” I just passed the legal age to marry! Isn’t it a bit too early? Despite that, she did have a point about his manner, and he relented. “Nyem-in. Still haven’t worked out my courtesy name. How about you?”

“What a weird name.” Her teeth bit off another mouthful of chocolate, the hard texture preventing her pink lips to be soiled.

“My parents moved to this country not long ago. How about yours?”

“Well, that explains why they are using store chocolate for supply.” She commented. “Just call me Akira.”

“Isn’t it a male name? And you say my name is strange!” He protested.

“It’s a coincidence, actually. It’s a female name from my mother’s side.” Her gloves crumbled the wrapping and put it in her pocket, before swiped another bar from the paperbag. Although he knew little about that factoid, her golden hair did seem to indicate her lineage having foreign blood. The exotic ancestry, however, complemented her native clothes well, creating an alluring mixture.

“How about ‘si-hen’?” Akira suddenly asked.

“What about it?”

“Your courtesy name. You still don’t have one, right?” After another corner, he was pretty sure he was walking to a further convenience store, but it would be awkward to suddenly turn away from the girl. “It complements your personal name well.”

“Eh… sure? How do you write it?” It certainly did not sound bad, but he was not fluent in the literary script enough to actually know its writing just from the sound of it. As he asked, both pairs of boot stopped beneath a lone streetlamp, and the girl pulled out a small notebook and a pen from a small bag tugged to the side of her waist.

It was obvious that she spent effort to keep it clean and tidy as she flipped to a blank page. She opened the cap and reveal the small brush inside, before holding tightly onto it and had it danced on the paper, leaving behind a refined cursive trail. Once she finished, she tore out the page without a second thought and handed it to him.

“It’s… beautiful.” Both the name and her calligraphy was.

“Feel free to use it. Consider it a payment for the chocolate!” His praise seemed to please her greatly, as she let out a grin while looking at his meek face.

“Th-thanks.” Nyem-in nodded and put the given name into his pocket.

“You can eat it too, you know.” She asked after crumbling another wrapping in her hands.

“Eh… no, thanks. Never really liked chocolate.” He shook his head. “Especially black one. How can you like something that bitter?”

“It’s the bitterness that makes sweets even more alluring.” She licked her lips before sinking them into the third bar. “Besides, it has practical benefit as well.”

“Huh?” Nem-nim tilted his head as Akira turned towards him, her amber eyes gazing up while licking off the melted chocolate on her lips, revealing the drenched pink beneath.

“Do you know chocolate can increase your libido?” The girl whispers in a very enchanting tone as she swallowed the entire bar, licking her fingertips as she relished in its taste. Her eyes, however, maintained on his the whole time. It took a moment for Nyem-in to connect the dots, at which his face suddenly blushed bright-red, his shaking legs pulling him back a step from the giggling girl.

“It’s. Just. A. Joke.” His reaction seemed to delight her, as reflected by the quiet tone flowing from her lips. With a wink, she started walking again, her moist forefinger signalling Nyem-in to follow her - which he obliged, perhaps guided by his galloping heartbeat.

“So why are you out here in the middle of the night again?” Frustrated, Nyem-in decided to change the topic to something less… provoking.

“Oh? I’m returning from school. Isn’t it obvious?” Akira tilted her head before spreading her arms, showcasing her clothes before the teenager. While her particular garment was not uncommon as school uniform, not many of them could afford the smooth, silk-like material she used, and the tight cutting around her curvy body indicated that it was tailor-made and thus even more expensive. Combined, the girl before her looked less like a student and more like a young lady attending a high-class restaurant or entertainment.

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to be going home alone at this time? I mean, you’re a pretty girl-” It was only after they had left his mouth that he realised the implication of her words, causing him to stutter in embarrassment.

“Would you want to be the hero for a damsel in distress like me, then?” His knee-jerk reaction once again made her giggling with joy.

“If, if I have to…” Though his timid look did not inspire any confidence, but a small burst and laughter from Akira.

“Just kidding. I might not look like it, but…” As she spoke, her hand reached into the bag by her side and pulled out a sliding caliper. Using it as an impromptu pick, her nimble fingers quickly align its tip forward and, with a smooth strike, drew an arc in the warm air before her. Had anyone been standing before her, the sharp end would most probably embed itself between their legs - an act that could not help but made Nyem-in shiver instinctively. “… I can take care of myself.”

“I, I see…” He eyed the tool as she was “sheathing” it back in her bag. Apart from the caliper, it also contained a small abacus and slide rule - an unusual set of tools for a refined lady like her.

“My school pays a lot of attention to the military education class. The last few classes have been quite fun. You never knew how easy it was to put a grown man to his knees, even for a powerless girl like me…” Akira chuckled as Nyem-in rolled his eyes - for him, the mandatory military education class often boiled down to watching old war movies that were only entertaining in unintentional manners.

“… like this.” Implications of the brief words from Akira only took a moment for the boy to notice, as he stopped his steps and turned towards the girl, dreading that she would demonstrate her technique onto her. Perhaps fortunately for him, she merely lifted her finger and pointed to herself one of the weak points of human.

“Around here below the breastbone. I think it’s called the solar plexus. The officer said punching it hard enough will stop people from breathing.” Her fingertips presses right above the upper edge of her lower dress, forming an indent triangle between it and her breasts. As Nyem-in was asked to look at it, he could not help but make an educated guess on her curvy body shape. “Also hurts a lot even with just a pecker’s length… depending on its size.”

“Eh…” As the additional meaning of the term dawned on him, his bodily reaction was uncomfortably apparent both from embarrassment and the interruption he had before being told to go out. The blond girl giggled as her unusually sharp eyes stared at him.

Opting for continuing the walk silently, the girl merely followed by his side, humming some unknown tune happily. It did not take long for the duo to reach the next convenient store, allowing him a brief respite from Akira. Soon, he returned with a similar bag of cheap chocolate and a slightly fuller pocket of allowance. It appeared that during his purchase, the girl also helped with herself a small box of cherries.

“You certainly like to eat a lot.” Nyem-in commented without realising the implication of his words.

“That’s a pretty bad pickup line, you know.” She did not seem to mind him being tactless. Instead, she simply delivers another cherry into her mouth, stem attached. “I’ll just work it off in military class tomorrow.”

“Besides, it’s really delicious!” For a moment, her clear words made him think she decided to swallow the entire cherry. However, this was quickly disproven as she spit out the seed and a tied stem into the package. “Do you want to pop one too? I can save mine for you.”

“Um… no, thanks! I think I really should go back home soon!” Not sure how much could he take from her, Nyem-in quickly made a farewell gesture and bowed his head, before hurrying into the dim streets back to his apartment.

“See you later.” Akira responded in kind with her usual comforting tone, before turning to the other direction and strolled back into darkness.

---

Once her silhouette emerged under another street lamp, Akira stopped her boots. Humming the last bar, her hand procures the small notebook and pen again, flipping to a page filled with a well-organised table of names and dates. Her other hand reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumble chocolate bar wrapping, untangling it to reveal the date on it. With a chirpy smile on her face, she filled in another row of the notebook.

“See you later… fufu.” She whispered to herself before her amber eyes looked up. Observing for a brief moment, She rested her index finger, along with a smile, on her lips.

[Victoriala II]

Cintrasuratri, or, the Birth of the Moon and all Worldly Reason

Great aeons ago, when the young cubs of beasts lie amongst the children of deer, when the wings of birds fly colors of flowers, the salamanders slept silently in the slithers of flame, and the sharks are ten times greater than the tallest of trees, the sun stood overhead, watching the world beneath him brimmed and resplendent with vibrance and light. Beneath him are his siblings three, the sea, the sky, the earth. His continuous dance drips with radiance that rains down the clouds and waters of the world, giving birth to life.

A fire eternal, he stood paranount in the highest reaches of the heavens. The sister sky cannot come near him for he was too hot, invigorated with the wildness of frenzied aethers that coloured his burning heart. Touching him will deprive the earth of air to breathe and winds to flow the seeds and seas, for she may evaporate into nothing. The sun cannot descend any further either, too much of his warmth will burn the world and destroy all souls. Thus the sun was alone.

The sun was growing tired of his sacred dance—accorded to him by the spirit of all spirits—that seems to go on forever. His is the fire kept fast, ever changing, eternal and without pause. But in his duty, for he was observant of divine order, he continued. And thus, the trees continued to grow, the animals and people kept on playing and eating and playing soon after, the birds continued to soar like banners unfurling their prayers to the most august, and the fish continued to swim in the ocean's womb.

And all of them began to tire. The flowers begin to run out, and so did the succulent fruits. Even the beasts cannot play as they knew no rest. One of the trees have become so tall that the sky cannot reach to him. He simply grew and grew until he has entered the layer of firmament where the sun stands, and in his radiant prescence, his crown burned, and his whole body followed.

The fire spread to the forests of the earth, abated only by the gracious waves of the ocean. Never before has the world seen such disruption. In the unwitting pride of the tree, the first death occurred. A young fawn who have wandered off, exhausted and full from berries and play, wandered too close to the tallest of trees. And there the fawn burned, causing great grief amongst the people and all the beasts of the once-flourishing earth.

In this tragedy, the spirit of all spirits convened the sky, the ocean, the sun and earth. The sorrow was felt even by theirs, for the ravaging of the divine dharma.

"The great tapestry that I weave and roll has turned into confusion. The beauty of the wheel of creation has become diminished by great sadness." Said the spirit of all spirits.

The earth glared at the sun with deep rage. "Ai! It was the sun! He is the one that burned my children! The listless destroyer, the ravager of wonder who ruined their realm that I created! Oh, how am I going to tell them? The most beautiful of gardens is ruined, and so will their hearts!"

The sun only wept, flogging himself of his inaction, the anger of the earth only feeding to his heat, which hardens the earth's heart even more. The sky merely gazed, for in her heart she knoes she has nothing to do with this.

The ocean, once wise and calm, found the earth's denouncement untrue, for she has seen through her clouds that the tree merely grew. The sun's fire was becoming too strong as grief takes its toll on the dancing radiance. She came to the sun and began to envelop him with her cool comfort, his tears turning to vapor and the crackling heart simmering down.

In the name of peace and great dharma, she softly proclaimed: "The earth speaks harshness to the sun, spirits of spirits. I cannot stand to see my firm brother chastise another for being the most dutiful of sons. This misunderstanding is founded on misarranged dharma."

The spirit of spirits listened to the ocean with great intent.

"I am mother to the serene calm, the silence and the unspoken magnificence. Yet the fluttering joys of the day seeps into my heart and so too have the denizens of my realm. The fish find themselves aching, o, spirit of spirits. In the fluttering joy of day they know nothing but endless wildness and action, and thus they tire and expire so soon."

The sky glided across the ocean's words as the earth restrains himself. The sun was silent, and the spirit of spirit's heart was filled with glee, for they found wisdom amongst their creation. And with this glee he spoke: "It seems that dharma has written itself in a precarious place. The fawn and the garden might not return to the light of health. What has been woven cannot be unwoven once more. Something else must come to accord."

The ocean stood and came towards the feet of the spirit of spirits. "Give all the denizens of this world a new song in their heart, and let them leave and return to either as long as they please. Give them pause, give them respite, o spirit of spirits. Give them rest."

The sun began to speak, though he quivered in his departure from sorrow. "Yet if I descend, what happened to the fawn and tree shall happen to everything else."

The ocean returned to the sun and caressed him with her waters. "As long as dharma unfolds to better form, we need not worry."

And thus the spirit of spirits looked at the two with assuring fulfillment, and found a new path. He found the sun and ocean consummate unity, bright frenzy tempered by the serene calm, and the unspoken magnificence given capacity to be described. Thus he spoke, "There shall be a new dharma, thus formed from great balance. May peace be accorded to all things through the glory that which this new order shall give us."

They turn to the ocean and sun. "Your union I find most pleasing, for both of you have accorded change in dharma. May you be fruitful, as I bless this union."

The ocean was filled with great glee. "O, spirit of spirits, I thank you greatly, let this new dharma give the sun his respite, so my eternal calm make the denizens of the world at peace, and when time requires me of rest, my brother-beloved can rise once more, great and triumphant."

"Let it be so." The spirit of spirits replied.

And thus began the great union of the ocean and sun, in which the ocean rose to the firmament, supported by the sky, to reach the sun for he cannot descend to her. Above the realm of weightlessness the two converged and convulsed, where light and dark gather and commune within their consummate love. In their unity fire slithers unto the water, and the waters drip into the flames. In the most wondrous of hours the world saw the convergence of the two, a sight so beautiful for it is the unity of color made calm and darkness made vibrant.

In the great amatory of the sun and ocean they explode in pleasure, the waters of the ocean scattering its darkness to the clouds, thus birthing the rains and the storms. The sparks of the sun spattered about to the sea, becoming their first children. The rain and clouds ran freely to the arms of the sun, ocean and sky, nourishing the earth, and the stars came to the domain of the ocean, proclaiming her place in the sky. The ocean was given a spark of the sun and a piece of the earth, and with it she molded the moon, her most wondrous incarnation, for her to accord herself in the realm of the firmament.

As the sun finally retires all strength, he descends to the beneath-realm of the world, where he lay rest. The first sleep of the world. And thus, in his place the ocean, incarnated as the moon, pushing and pulling herself to uphold the new balanced dharma. In place of light, a calming darkness. The first night of the world.

The sparks of the children of the sun and ocean began to rise as the moon begins her tenure. These children longed to reach their mother, and as the moon longed their company, she asked for the sky to draw them close. Thus, the sparks came to rise to the firmament where the moon stands, in great wonderful multitudes that created the stars, constellations and galaxies. And thus the stars came to the domain of the night, where they shall be seen amongst the vast expanse of the tempered sky. With this, all the denizens of the world began their sleep.

As the first night began to set, the sun awakes and begins the first sunrise. Reinvigorated by rest and the calm of sleep, he is more resplendent than he could have ever been. Thus he begins his dance, as joyous and as radiant. In this light, some sparks who chose not to rise for the moon rose for the sun. The sun gave them to the care of the earth, giving them flesh, thus birthing man.

The first men gave praises to the sun, their all encompassing father. He was delighted, but at the same time he is displeased, for they only knew him. Thus, he spoke to them: "I am your father, radiant and august, for it is so. But praise me forever naught, as the ocean carried you in her womb and kept you safe in her waters. Praise the most serene of calm!"

And thus the first of humanity praised both, prostrating themselves to the glories presented upon them. And thus, the new dharma came to balance, heralding the second of six ages.

[The IASM]

Qankiung Dastmekkthong
Qung
Niaausü Dügkiaan
Akai

DAOYANG

---

The throne of the kneeling colossi. It was truly a magnificent thing to gaze upon with your eyes; the gross mass of steel which demonstrated the capitulation of the demons of war to the order of the monarchy. The lesser Prince stared at the throne, as he recalled the indomitable presence which once sat upon it. His father seemed all too attuned to the cold stone flesh of the old throne.

He recalled the audiences and the formalities of court, everyone equally in reverence and awe - a state of perpetual terror as the censors, guards and eunuchs all watched studiously. ‘Those without the luxury of power by blood, must acquire it due to their talent. Make yourself of some use and then you might have some greater purpose.’ He recalled his father elucidating once before.

His thoughts were interrupted however by a voice, it was tinged with a boyish youth - too high to be that of an actual man. “Your Highness… Prince Daoyang, it is a pleasure to see you here so early.” As the Prince turned his head to study the man opposite. Ah, the Chief Eunuch the Prince realised upon seeing the man. He was masked like all respectable Akai, and yet he bore all the unique features of the eunuchs. A jade mask whose plain face was encrusted with gold and the human smile it bore was illusory.

"Lord Eunuch, I assume you're making preparations for the ceremony?" the Prince inquired as he made a respectful bow; one which the eunuch returned. He was vaguely acquainted with Li Si, a loyal and utterly obedient attendant of his father. It was quite the mutually beneficial master-slave relationship, with every courtier understanding the implied threats behind Li Si’s mild gaze were not his own. As a son of a concubine Daoyang understood all too well the domineering power of eunuchs, as he grew up in the harem.

"Yes, your highness,” the eunuch slivered as he studied the prince: “In order to be dutiful I must always serve. Organisational talents have always been one of my specialities," he said with a large degree of enthusiasm to his words: “To place every little bit into place like a master of go, to orchestrate it all. It really ought to be the duty of the Minister of Rites although he remains too preoccupied with more relevant matters nowadays. And as this is a ceremony of non-religious significance the Minister of Ceremonies has no authority over this matter.”

“Many men would be willing to send out their deputies, servants and lesser children to do these duties. Then again you are a eunuch, so the last one may be out of your capacity,” Daoyang teased with some elements of truth. He turned to walk alongside Li Si as the eunuch watched servants place instruments and continue the required cleaning. His glare then tightened: "I know your kind eunuch, yet I have yet to lift the veil. What is your true purpose here."

Li Si did not flinch and placed a hand on the taller prince: "I am merely an attendant of the throne. My duties are evident to you surely."

"Yes they are and one who does his duties amiably does he not?" The Prince continued to inquisitively inquire of the eunuch.

"I served your father quite well yes when I first entered this court” Li Si continued in his jubilant manner, which Daoyang found so deeply infuriating. Eunuchs never come without ulterior purposes don’t they “I also serve his kin as well and I wanted to aid one of his own, even if you may be the child of a concubine I do have some reservations I wished to voice."

"About this appointment?" Daoyang furthermore investigated as he moved to face the eunuch, this time directly as his interest began to peak.

"You were always one of the nobler ones - there are few offspring of the concubines like that you know. Been around enough to know the hard way. But you should know some are less inclined to do what is perceived as right and just.” The eunuch’s tone shifted to be more advisory in tone and manner: “The world outside these walls is as treacherous as the rest. And you are tainted by your mother and her line."

Daoyang’s tone then switched to one of a fury infused with a sense of justice, "Do not speak ill of her eunuch, for then your balls will not be the only things you have lost." He placed his on the shoulder of the eunuch and grasped tightly yet it seemed to be without effect.

"I am merely a cave, other voices echo from within and throughout. You are just able to hear them through me,” he explained cooly and calmly. The eunuch paused and moved closer, his boyish voice continuing. Daoyang knew he was right, that his mother’s legacy was always going to be passed down to him regardless of his own involvement. To be born to a lady of a traitor's clan - what a cruel dishonour. The eunuch continued: "Even then, the reality is her reputation was doomed no matter how kind she was. Her family resisted your father and they paid the price for their arrogance but so do you. These echoes shall haunt you."

The Prince was flustered by the eunuch, and in turn, loosened his grip on him before retracting his hand. He began to stroll through the throne room with the eunuch alongside him, "So what are these echoes? What is being said?"

Li Si’s response was perplexing vague as always. "Tread carefully so you do not get entangled in the web - spiders are looking on with great hunger. Quite a few aristocrats do not envy where you are heading and others want you under your thumb."

Daoyang nods and says: "I will heed your advice eunuch, for now at least." Daoyang bowed respectfully to him, still not fully trusting Li Si and his nature but for now, it was something he had to deal with eventually. He eventually decided to depart from the hallowed corridors which engulfed his discussion with the eunuch-like a whale does some minute mackerel. Instead, he weaved his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace to his dressing quarters in which four servants awaited him. They where cycled around, he was never able to get to know them too long but treated them well regardless unlike some of his brothers. His uniform was like most Akai uniforms. Its base was derived from the two folds worn in a manner similar to Dügka. It possessed, however, some more modern features or rather as they were seen by the military - “practicalities”, such as high boots and thin pauldrons upon which the Mandarin Squares were placed. A tiger dancing beneath the sun, signifying his status as a member of the Lazin dynasty. Along with this, a banner which was attached to his belt and a cloak and cap was to be worn. On top of this a mask, which was a fusion of the three-eyed skullish angel which the Lazins wore and the grinning lions of the Raigao clan composed Daoyang’s mask. Ultimately he found little time and enjoyment in his wear but still had to abide in wearing it all the same. He looked in a mirror as it came to cover his pale flesh and his violet eyes looked out.

An hour had passed, as the prince got prepared and eventually returned to the room it was clear that a great deal of work had been done.The vast glory of the throne had been established once more. It was filled with thousands of aristocrats and bureaucrats on the left, whose role remained ceremonial and limited to governance but whose wealth often fueled the power of corporations and politics alike. Many were dukes, margraves and otherwise served as Grand Administrators elsewhere although the true positions of prominence were reserved for the Kings and Viceroys. But one face Daoyang did recognise was one of Jieke’s two pillars, Heng Longba On the right were those actively serving in the navy and armies respectively. Stratified by rank and status, with favoured marshals at the front, including the aged clique with Jieke so long promoted. Long Hongzheng, the old but still eccentric Grand Commandant who has dictated Akai military developments for the past 40 years. Alongside was his main competitor Grand Admiral Haili Shunchen, nominally his inferior Shunchen was the most powerful Admiral in Akai and one of the most cunning. Yet was the most interesting feature was in reality was the fact that they were all prostrated before the throne and the teenaged monarch who sat upon it.

My brother… There lies the son of my abuser, my brother, my master, my little brother - to inflict revenge upon all that Jieke loved dear is to be my quest but whether this includes him that is the question. Daoyang thought as he fell to his knees and took part in the kowtowing and slowly began to make his way up to the throne. Heiyanshi imperial guards have placed around, all standing at attention ready to perform their duties. Hulang himself was seated comfortably upon the throne, his astute gaze hung upon those in the throne room it suits him as much it did his father. Eventually, Daoyang made it to the base of the throne, and he looked at the floor in formal reverence of he who was seated upon it.

Hulang looked intrigued, staring at his brother before a scroll was handed to him. He began to speak in his low but fast voice as he read the edict prepared for him: "We of the era Liannu command upon his loyal servant of the throne and his dear half-brother, Diangt Qantgugt Nian Prince of the outer court to take upon the duties of the Grand Administrator of the Gaftsung Commandery. You are to serve the interests of this throne without compromise and to the fullest of your abilities. To keep peace in this area, I invest in you two monitor censors to ensure your loyal behaviour and to report upon your competence. You shall be given command over all local powers that your position has the right to possess."

Daoyang wondered whether those censors given to him could be trusted or not. Censors were never exactly well known for their loyalty to anyone other than their two masters. His response however required little dwelling for his thoughts: "I shall honour you Grand Augustness, my dear brother to the highest of my humble abilities. Nghā Tē mantsghhast, mantsghhast mantmantsghhast!"

It was then that the crowd began to roar in ceremonial unison: “Mantsghhast! Mantsghhast! Mantsghhast!” And Daoyang began to move back away from the throne, yet still facing it. To the backdrop of the imperial orchestra, playing the sombre flair given to such events he heard whispers: “A traitors spawn regardless of what his origins were.” His head turned to see bone-cane wielding Colonel-Marshal Qiaozhi Woerjin and the stern Brigadier-Marshal Aoxing Ibhu discussing with one another quietly. They remained disciplined in their standing yet it was clear that the two were whispering. Daoyang knew both men well enough, for the former was the one who led the operation which exterminated his mother’s clan while the latter controlled the facilities which produced the weapons for it. It was perhaps fortunate for Daoyang that he was to be placed so near the Ibhu heartland, so now maybe he holds power over the criminals who had escaped his justice.

[Karazawa]

A friend in need
Ostramar, Karazawa

---

The ports of Ostramar were some of the busiest in all of Karazawa. Thousands and thousands of tons each years transited there, going all throughout the Lazarene Sea and even the world at large. A seemingly endless wave of cargos of all size, but also of Ocean liners and other passenger ships, came and went in and out of the docks, to discharge their cargaisons, to take passengers, to refuel, or to be repaired. This constant flux was how thousands of families could survive, and it was the main economic activity in Ostramar, keeping the city alive.

Lukka Santogio looked through the window of the five star hotel he was currently in. It was his family hotel, the “Santogio Grand Sea Hotel”, and a business that offered only the best services possible to its wealthy clients, mostly business men, sometime travelling politicians or diplomats, and even the childs of some big names who came here to enjoy a few days of rest in the “Blue Pearl of the Lazarene”. To these clients, the Grand Sea Hotel also offered special services to make their stay all the more agreable and their access to all the distraction the city could offer all the more easier.

“This city. My father’s city.” Thought Lukka. After all, no other family was as respected as the Santogio in Ostramar. One of Lukka’s brother owned bars, casino and nightclubs all around the city, another had important shares in the international airport, while he had cousins serving as judges, officers in the army, and even representative in the Assembly. But he, Lukka, was the CEO of the Lazarene Hatun Chakan Ruruchkna “The Lazarene Sea Charter Company”. It was one of the most vital company to his family. It was a great honor but also a great responsibility his father gave him, and many of his brothers were waiting for his failure to get rid of him. Especially his elder brother, who can’t stand the fact Father favored Lukka over him.

And they will all be there today, in one room.

Lukka sighted. His father called the reunion, and no one could possibly hope to disobey the Santogio Patriarch and getting away. It was one of these facts in life you couldn’t just change or ignore, you just had to deal with it.

An hour later and everyone was in the “rented” meeting room. All four Santogio brothers and even their sister -who retook the Santogio name after her husband’s death- and, to the surprise of Lukka, even one of the cousins,the captain Changera Santogio, smugly smiling in his so clean it was almost shiny uniform. Cocky Prick. Thought Lukka. His brothers may want Lukka dead, he didn’t care it was just business. Changera was one of the few people he truly hated. A weakness, he knew, but even with the best of his efforts and the lessons of his father, it was hard to even stand close to the arrogant dumbass. How can the Army even stand this bastard is a mystery.

He quickly forced himself to think of something else. Once the salutations were done, he was the first one to come and present his respect to the Clan’s leader, the Patriarch of the family and his father, Perron Santogio. Once all did the same, Perron invited them to seat down at the table with him without even saying a word, just raising his hand in a tired gesture.

“My sons, daughter, and nephew.” He said with his aging, deep voice. “If I called you today is because I believe you need to be in the known about the new… contract we received. Something that concern us all. Changera ? Tell them ?”

“Of course Uncle !” How can one man be so annoying in just two words ? That’s amazing. Apparently Lukka will have no choice but to deal with his cousin. Great. “See” continued Changera “We’ve recently been contacted by our friends in the Administration. Apparently Siphria, some small country near he UNIR, is scared. And it wants to be less scared. However, it can’t just take a phone and buy some calmants or a gun. For a whole lot of reasons, but mostly because the UNIR is closely watching. Anyway. But our friends always ready to help the world, the widow and the orphan, decided to help Siphria to be a little less scared. But they just can’t help Siphria like that because that would put them in a strange situation at the internationale. So, that’s where we come in.”

“Two container ships worth of guns, mortar, ammunition of all calibers, explosives, bulletproof vests, helmets, rocket launchers… 12000 containers in total. And that’s just for the first trip. If the Siphrians are satisfied, we can expect more commands, and for more lucratives shipments : vehicles, spare parts, helicopters… we’re going to arm an army here !”

A moment of silence followed the little explanation. “And where do all of this come from ?” finally said Lukka’s sister, Sahuea. “We have good connexion.” smiled Changera. “We won’t have to care about finding the supplies, just transport them.”

“So I guess this is why I’m here ?” Lukka turned to his father, who smiled at the comment. “Indeed. Your boats are to transport it all out of the country, once we’ve gathered the goods. As said, we have many friends supporting us in this endeavor but don’t think it’s an excuse to not be careful.”

“Of course Father.”

“Now, there are other things I want to discuss.” Continued the Santogio Patriarch. “Tsubaurpui, explain to your brothers the little problem we have in the north…”

---

Then the meeting continued between the member of the family. A long time ago, the Santogio Family was not the only clan “in charge” of Ostramar and the greater region of Ostramaria. Many families, some who still existed, were allied with them in what was called the “Lazarene Clique” and the Santogio were only one among many. The Lazarene Group. But many of them refused to adapt, to change with the world around them. So they died, and now the Santogio and their allies are what’s left of the Group. And yet, they were stronger than ever, because they adapted, because they moved on.

Two days later, Lukka was here with his thought, while contemplating from his car the two container ships waiting at the dock, the Kuetsakuitsi and the joskuapunda, who were being slowly charged by the cranes of the ports.

Lukka, as the good inheritor of a smuggling company that he was, made sure himself that the numbers and data for his boats were correctly falsified. He took the list of the general materials and their quantities transported by boats of these categories and tweaked them so it stayed believable and in the confidence interval. Then he gave the order to load a few crates of these goods in each containers, to be put at the front, so to be sure they would have something to show for in case custom officers ask question. They probably will not in this particular case, but you’re never too sure.

As far as payment was going, it was pretty easy. A “friend” of the Lazarenites put Lukka in contact with some Siphrian NGO, something about a religion, bahaism or whatever was the name, wanting to build temples in Karazawa. Another company, owned by Lukka’s father and of which all the Santogio are shareholder, would sign the contract for these constructions, and be payed for it. For everyone in the world, there were now baha’i temples in Karazawa, except the construction will be delayed because of numerous reasons, and the contract shut down with no refund. From the taxes, the Karazawi government would touch it’s share of the deal, and then there would be a “Gift” to the royal clan to cover the rest.

A man approached the car and entered, without provoking the ire of Lukka. It was Gredde, one of his most trusted henchmen and one of his Ejpu, his lieutenants, and a good man, loyal to Lukka and the family but to Lukka first and foremost. He saluted Lukka, whom allowed him to talk with a sign of his hand.

“We’ve got the greenlight from the Port Authority. Everything is in order for 12000 containers of…I dunno I don’t think anybody looked at the official list. Even the Authority. We’ve got the authorizations sooner than before, something tell me they’ve got orders to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“Not necessarily. They’re less obvious ways to achieve the same result. Anyway, make sure the boats are loaded correctly, then stick to what the papers show. Except for the cargaison itself, I don’t want anything to be anormal. Follow the procedures.”

“Sure things boss. I’ve taken the liberty to put trustworthy captain and a few sailors that are also uarhipitipka, just to be safe.”

“Good work, you can return there. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye sir.”

And so once Gredde left, the car departed, but the ships were still slowly being loaded with containers of various colors, boasting the names of Namoreses, Luzyicans, and sometime Karazawi constructors. The final papers were signed and when the sunlight started to become weak, the Kuetsakuitsi and the joskuapunda left the docks, fully loaded, sailing eastward toward the sunset, soon to go south once they’ve gone far enough.

To Siphria.

[Nunalik]

The north Forgets not the ways of its predecessors
The Hyperborean Sea, North of Anaanaqeqertaq

---

The black sea lapped softly at the weather-beaten sides of Aglakti's kayak, their gentle caress barely rocking the sturdy vessel. The craftsmanship in its making was apparent, with its sealskin sides keeping the inside dry. Above in the sky, the moon was Aglakti's sole companion, the eye of Qilak in the folk tales that his grandmother had told as he grew in their small tent far from the intrusive influences of modern society. He had grown in the traditional manner, surrounded by elders who groomed him into his current role. He was the song maker, not only his namesake but his expected role in the isolated community.

And yet, he was growing old. His hands, no longer the slender fingers that crafted such art as his kayak and the wonderfully engraved necklace he wore under his musk-ox-skin parka with its whalebone harpoon, were wracked with arthritis and barely able to fulfil the basic tasks that he occupied himself with. His tongue was no more the silver laugh that wove elaborate tales of the brave heroes and plentiful hunts of old, a mere throaty husk that commanded respect, not fascination. His eyes were no longer those of the great hunting wolf but of a blind rabbit that meekly trode into the snare of the clumsy hunter.

I must carry out this final hunt, he reminded himself. One more hunt, one more successful killing and he could stop the aches and pains that came with running with the young pack. It need not be a whale, even a seal will do.

His less-than-keen eyes probed the inky blackness beyond his kayak for any disturbance that would be the telltale sign that his quarry was nearby. His ears, alone among his senses in that it could still be trusted with a modicum of reliability, listened out for the telltale whoosh of a blowhole or cries of a seal. No such luck.

In the inky blackness, however, he was not alone. He could sense this, with the nerve of a hunter that has prowled the same area for decades. There was something out there. In his heart he felt fear. Could it be an orca? He knew that in his prime such a challenge would have been relished, a chance to prove his manliness and a way to gain the respect of the other youths from the towns who scorned him for his illiteracy and lack of city knowledge. To them, the knowledge of their people mean less than the knowledge of the Aininians, the Tuthinans, the peoples who had forgotten the call of nature and adopted the call of the city. But he was old. He was not the hunter he had once been.

One more hunt, then I become one of the legends that I have preserved.

His ears picked up the unmistakeable sound of a whale rising from the depths. He looked to his left and saw its majestic shape climb and settle at the top of the ocean. It was an old bull bowhead, clearly past its prime. It was alone, and judging from its pained song it was near do death. Aglakti understood the sign clearer than any of the foreign glyphs the town teachers taught in their schools. Qilak had given him this kill. It was like him, near death and full of pride, the fact filling Aglakti's heart with both sorrow and thankfulness. He whispered to the animal, soft words of comfort to help it as it left this life.

Fear not, friend. Your place is no longer within the sea, but the sky. I do not doubt we will be seeing each other again there soon.

With strength from the bottom of his heart, Aglakti hurled his harpoon at the animal and for a few seconds could feel the heat of his youth warm his body from the cold winds outside. The whale was hit, and let out an audible cry. Aglakti heard this and smiled. This was not a cry of distress, but thanks. He saw the whale cease in its movements and reached for the whalebone horn that would call out the young men of his area to help tow the whale to shore, where it could be cut up and its meat and maqtaaq distrubuted among all the families in their remote community. As the other kayaks arrived, they saw Aglakti hunched in prayer, with tears falling down his face as he composed the song of his last hunt. Aglakti looked up at the great quilt of the sky and saw a shooting star flying overhead.

My dear friend, you have freed me from my shackles as I have freed you from yours. Let us both rest, and both be at peace. I will see you in the skies.

[Karazawa]

Summer Rest

---

The lush and dense forest was everywhere, seemingly bloating the sunny sky with a thick green foliage, under which it was an apparently endless maze of dark brown tree trunks and overgrown vegetation. Insects, and other arthropods crawled or flied everywhere, eating all they could and being eaten by either other insects, or the numerous reptiles and birds higher in the food chain, themselves trying to survive the permanent threat of small mammalians, and so on, and so on, until the very top.

This is how she liked her forest.

The young lady walked through the trees, with her dogs by her side. They were good dogs, named Khatsareni and Kerisingua. They were of this species of “giant” dogs that Karazawi brought with them in the Erechi Peninsula, when they installed themselves around the Lake Patzquro. Herself looked like a relatively typical Karazawi : her skin, partially hidden under a khaki coverall, was of this shade of red so peculiar when compared to the white of their romance neighbors, and her long dark hairs were tied under a formless cap. She observed the world around her with her big brown eyes. Her steps were careful, and she seemed to be waiting for something.

But patience was a virtue, and she knew how to keep herself calm. Even when she knew it was so close. She had observed in person the forest and the border of the perimeter she had chosen, and she saw all the signs. It was here.

For now there was nothing, but she kept searching. But soon, the dogs sniffled something : a small, broken, branch. Nothing much to the untrained eyes but for her, it was everything she needed.

It was recent, she could tell that much. She also deduced the direction, but she couldn’t deduce more from this. But it was a good start. She returned to her slow walk through the forest, her head cooler than ever. Now was not the time to get emotions slip in and ruin everything.

New marks, new informations. She couldn’t hold a little excited smile. It was perfect. Exactly what she had hoped for. She walk a little bit faster, but still with care. She must not show herself before the time was right.

Her dogs sensed them long before she did. Only when they started running she saw them. The dogs chased them, and she stimulated them with the words they had been trained to recognize. Xui ! Xui ! “Go ! Go !” She was proud of her dogs, and once again, they did an excellent jobs. One chased the troop of fugitives, barking loudly and staying right behind them to scare them off, while the other slowly flanked them. The second one, once in the right spot, headed right into them, to separate them. One by one, they were cut off, until the two dogs only chased down one of them.

She whistled, and screamed some more words “uikixu !” The dogs knew what to do, and through the right flanking, deviated their victim to the left, to the trap. It was a natural position from which he could not escape. He realised it too late and soon, the dogs were upon him.
But they did not attack. They barked, loudly, to keep him panicked and immobile, while their mistress joined them.

The animal turned himself toward her. It was a boar. A big one, beautiful individual. Exactly what she was looking for. The dogs slowly stopped to bark. And silence fell. There was only one path for him to flee now, and it was to go through her. The little jog hadn’t tire him, and he was in good health.

The only thing that gave her even remotely a chance was her hunting spear. This is why she needed to be calm, to not let any emotion she could feel come between her and reality. Because there would be no second chance.

The boar sized the opportunity and charged. She was ready. She lowered her spike, focused on the instant, stood immobile. 0.10 seconds, 0.25…

Half a second. The boar was almost on her.

She moved her feet, and now she was now on the side of the animal. 0.8 seconds. Now was the moment. She firmly gripped the spear, and with all her strength, pierced the thick layer of skin. A little push and… yes ! She dodged the ribs. The spike drilled right through the heart of the boar.

With the same movement she pushed the animal, who squealed. Barely more than one second after he charged her, he was on the ground, a slender, sharp, blade right through his heart. He was on the ground. He tried to move, but it was too late, the spear didn’t allowed him the freedom to move and soon the dogs were on him, to definitively stop him. She came closer, unsheathing a long dagger from the belt that was holding her Overall. It wouldn’t take long before the animal died of blood loss, the strike had been excellent even if not perfect, but to quicken things she pulled him by his ears and cutted his throat. There was not much else to do.

She took a better look at the animal, allowing herself to feel pleased with how the hunt had gone. He was on the upper range, maybe 85 to 90 kg. Good catch. Now, to bring it back. That would be the tricky part but she didn’t cared. Her moral was high, and the rush of adrenaline made her feel invincible. In this case there was no way to go around : she took the straps and bands she always had on her for this occasion, tied her catch, and dragged it. She still took the time to pet her dogs, and make them feel how much she appreciated their job. Because they did an excellent one.When she finally reached the lodge, if you could call this small mansion a “lodge”, she was far more tired because of this slow drag than because of the hunt itself, even the running-around-the-forest part. But soon, two men in the same kaki Overall than her, with the same belt -but with different tools as she could see a pistol- came to take her prize. She gladly left him to them, quickly thanking them, before quickly joining the two other men, with far more complex clothes, waiting for her at a table, with a big smile on her face.

“Ah ! I see the hunt as gone well ! We will not starve tonight !” The oldest of the two declared, himself smiling, while standing up from his chair. He was bald, his dark red skin full of wrinkles, and with two little black malicious eyes above his long nose. The other, far younger, just looked grumpy. He had something of a young predator, a red feline with dark eyes and perfectly cut hairs. He was wearing a full business suit, a way for him to show he was not considering the whole thing a moment of relaxation, to the contrary of the old man, who was wearing along orange and gold robe, but compared to what etiquette allowed him to wear, it was a very casual dress. He didn’t even had much in term of jewelry.

She came and hugged him. “Thank you grandfather”. He laughed before turning his head toward the other man. “See ? Your daughter was excellent once again, and came back in one piece.”

The younger man didn’t looked happy with any of this. “Statistics.” He responded. “One day she will burn herself, after playing with so much fire. And then what ? Will you look so happy then ?”

“This is why we have the Kachicua looking after her at all time. Trust me when I say, she’s never really in danger.” Answered the elder, while sitting back.

“Really now ? I find their protection awfully discret.” The younger grumbled back.

“Discretion is their profession, after all. But since everytime we’re here you can’t calm down and just enjoy the weather, you should really take me on my offer to wait in the Kachicua Security Room. You’ll see then, she’s never alone.”

“Can you stop talking about it ? You’re ruining it for me.” She cut, slowly coming down from the thrill of the hunt. Her grandfather smiled to her, while her father just grumbled. “Sorry for that.” the former apologised, before having a little laugh. “Now, you should go change yourself, maybe take a shower while you’re at it.”

“Don’t worry for that, I’ll be all proper and ready for diner”.

“Ah ! What could we ask more of a grand-daughter ?”

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek, before going inside the lodge, not before leaving her dogs to two other of the Kachicua bodyguards in their kaki jumpsuits. Dogs were not allowed inside the lodge-mansion. Silence fell between the two men now alone again, will he servant came to replenish their drinks.

“I still don’t understand what you accept to put her in danger like that.” Finally said the son to his father.

“It’s good for her.” He explained, without an hint of this humour and joyful malice he had a second before. “I do think it’s good for her to have a bit of blood on her hands. It will make her transition into the real world all the more easier.” He continued, seeping a bit of his glass.

“What world ? Do you see her when she come out of these wood ? All covered in mud and blood ? This is…”

“What ? This is what ?”

“...Unladylike.”

The old man nodded. “I see. Don’t mistake me, I do understand you. It is true that a proper lady of her rank shouldn’t be doing these kind of things. This is why I didn’t took her to this little reunion we had a while back with the others of the Club. But in the private of our homes, I do not have the strength to tell her what she can do and can’t.”

“Don’t try that on me, your Majesty. You taught me all your silver-tongued tricks. You have a plan for her, now, don’t you ?”

The old man smiled mysteriously at his son, and the latter knew what that meant. He had already learn to be careful of his father when this suspiciously joyful light showed up in his eyes.

“Maybe. Let’s say I just like keeping my options opened.”

“You’re grooming her. You’ve done, and still do, the same to me, I know that much. The special tutoring ? The whole “blood on her hands” thing ? You always being there and showing yourself with her as much as you do with me ?You’ve trained me to catch these things.”

“Indeed ! And I’m happy to see I’ve done a good job. You are a good student I must say, just like her.” The old man’s smile couldn’t be brighter.

The son sighted. It was impossible to tell what was his father's plan and what was just a false clue he threw around. During his childhood, he had come to hate him because of this, until the day he realised it was not his nature, but more of a shell he had built around himself, to protect himself and, to a lesser extent, people close to him, through thick layers of scheming and plotting.

“Is this really the life you want for her ?” He finally asked.

“What I want is meaningless here. Didn’t we spent hours talking about this ? What you really need to ask yourself is : what is necessary for her.”

“Is it though ? It’s not exactly a life of happiness and plenitude you’re offering her.”

This time, it’s the old man who sighted. “Again with that. How many time did I told you, that you shouldn’t let the search for happiness dictate the course of your action ? There are other things in life.”
Both men stopped and stared in front of them in silence, toward the forest, finishing their drinks. After a moment, a servant came close, bowed, and waited for a movement of the old man’s hand to speak.

“Your Majesty, your Highness, diner will soon be ready. Her Majesty is waiting for you inside, with her Highness Lady Arindi.”

“Thank you, you can tell then that we’ll arrive soon.”

The servant bowed again and left, while the two men slowly stood up from their chairs and walked to the lodge, followed by some of their guards. One mansion, inside a giant park, deep into the juatachacua mountains of southern Karazawa, where the Sesquechua clan can enjoy some rest...

...Before the real work can start.

[Siphria]

6:11 PM
April 23, 2018

Hesîçe‎ Palace
Akrê, Siphria

Hesîçe‎ Palace, residence of the President of Siphria, had once been the country's royal palace, and the final Sabrî emirs had done their most to make it a pleasant place, Selîm Helebceyî thought to himself. A series of luxurious buildings set deep within a verdant private garden, it felt distant and safe in spite of its location in Siphria's capital city. The familiar rush of the city, which he'd known since childhood, seemed to fade when he was within its walls. Here, it was easy to feel isolated and secure.

Which makes it all the more jarring, he thought to himself, when those feelings are shattered.

Standing across the desk from him were Beşar Celalî, Silêman Yavuz, Ebûlxeyr Birahîmî, and Îsmaîl Cezerî- four of the generals who belonged to the military junta that had run Siphria for almost a year now. He had been in a private meeting with Evdirehmanê Hesenpûr, who was still standing next to him, when they entered without forewarming, the expressions on their faces stern and discontent.

Nevertheless, Helebceyî forced a smile to his face. "Generals, Admiral, I admit I was not expecting to see you at this time," he said, his tone falsely cordial. "What brings you here today?"

There was a cold, uncomfortable pause for several seconds, before Yavuz cleared his throat and began to speak. "General Helebceyî-" President and field marshal, Helebceyî thought- "I overheard a most distressing claim from a good friend of mine within the Foreign Ministry. This associate of mine claimed that you had begun negotiations between Siphria and Ankoren," Yavuz said, his tone tightly controlled but still obviously unhappy. "They claimed you were setting up an arrangement whereby Siphria would recognize the Ankoreni regime as the leaders of Nautasia."

"Now, I was skeptical because I know of your prior encounters with the Ankorenis, both recently and during the incidents of the 1970s," he continued, "but nevertheless this is a very serious allegation. If you were to have opened negotiations with a regime that has funded terrorists within Siphria, that has threatened invasion repeatedly, that has sent its troops and special operatives onto our soil illegally, that has bombed and shelled our villages and towns- well, that could be construed as a betrayal of the Siphrian nation. And of course, there might be... consequences if such a severe action was undertaken unilaterally, without the consent of the other members of this government."

Hesenpûr's back straightened as he moved to the side of the desk, slightly closer to the four intruding generals. "Are you threatening Marshal Helebceyî, General?" he declared, his tone cold.

"Not yet, no," Yavuz replied tersely. "But if the rumors turn out to be true, and if members of the junta are really being excluded from the government in this fashion, then who knows what will happen?"

Hesenpûr opened his mouth to retort, but Helebceyî waved his hand, keeping his smiled fixed to his face. "Now, now, gentlemen, let me explain this before we overreact," he interjected, keeping his voice amiable. "Yes, it is true that the foreign has opened negotiations with the Ankoreni regime. They've been running for almost the entire month, since shortly after the attempted attack on Şemzînan Palace. But the situation is not as unfavorable as you make it out to be, not nearly. If you'll allow me to explain-" "Yes, I think we would all appreciate that," Celalî cut in, triggering nods from the other intruding generals. "I think we all deserve to know what you've made us agree to, even if we're only being told of these things belatedly."

Helebceyî ignored the jibe, and continued speaking. "Firstly, yes, we will have to remain silent on the Ankoreni regime's actions in Irvadistan, in Mazaristan, in whatever parts of Nautasia they feel obligated to interfere in from here on out. But that's not hard to uphold, really. Uncomfortable, maybe, and unpleasant, since none of us are particularly fond of the Ankoreni regime, but it's certainly not difficult to say 'no comment' or not release a statement. At most, that's only a minor concession."

"Surely there must be other concessions, though," Yavuz replied. "And there's the claims that we would acknowledge Ankoreni leadership in Nautasia, which you still haven't addressed."

"The other concessions are that we are not to allow EC troops into Siphria, that we secretly agree to request Ankoreni assistance should we be invaded by EC troops at some point, and yes, that we tacitly and openly acknowledge UNIR leadership in Nautasia," Helebceyî sighed. "The first two of those are, for all intents and purposes, irrelevant. Our attempts at reaching out the EC nations made it clear that they were not going to send their troops to Siphria anyways, with or without our permission to do so. In all probability, those two concessions will not come up at any point in the foreseeable future. As for the second-" he adjusted his position in his chair before continuing- "tacit acknowledgement of Ankoreni leadership is a surprisingly broad category. We're going to release a statement later today, about the Esquarian Community's sanctions, in which we describe Ankoren as 'a leading power in Nautasia'. That phrase- that little, thoroughly unremarkable phrase- will be the tacit recognition we give. To the Siphrian ear, it will be a thoroughly milquetoast acknowledgement that Ankoren is powerful; to the Ankorenis, it will be the recognition of their leadership that they've demanded."

"In fact," he continued, "you'd be surprised by how many concessions Ankoren is making to us. I certainly was- after so many years of conflict, the changing circumstances have made them almost desperate to end it." He leaned forward towards the intruders, examining their skeptical faces. "You're all aware, I assume, of the response the Ankorenis have planned to the new EC sanctions? A five percent cut every month for nine months, to drive the price of oil up to a level where the Esquarian Community will be forced to bend?" The intruding generals nodded mutely. "The Ankorenis apparently reached an agreement with their fellow members in the International Forum for Developing States that they will continue to receive petroleum at the rates they did before the production cuts- and they're willing to extend the same offer to us, without demanding that we join the IFDS."

"So you sold our nation out for oil?" Cezerî said incredulously. "With all due respect, Marshal, this is-" Helebceyî waved his hand to silence Cezerî, and was mildly amused to say that he now obediently fell mute. "General, perhaps you do not appreciate how desperately we rely upon foreign oil. Oh, yes, we have our own domestic production, and a National Petroleum Reserve, but neither is enough to keep us supplied for more than a few weeks or months. And in nine months, when Ankoren and all its allies have slashed their petroleum production by 45%, the price of oil will be enough to cripple every single sector of the Siphrian economy. Agriculture, mining, industry, tourism- not one of them will be left unscathed should we allow ourselves to be subjected to the rise in oil prices that is about to come. And other countries in Esquarium produce oil, yes, but none at the same rate as Ankoren, and many of them are Ankoreni allies cutting their production in solidarity. And those oil producers that aren't-" he paused and glanced to each side before continuing- "they have said nothing to this effect, but I fully expect that the Ankorenis will retaliate against any nation that attempts to increase its production in response to these tariffs."

"At that point, when every sector of our economy is struggling, when no one in Siphria has been left unaffected, we will have two options," he continued, his expression grave and his tone tinged with frustration. "We can either put all of the oil in the National Petroleum Reserve into the economy, keep it going for a few weeks at the cost of crippling the ability of our military to operate, and then find ourselves in trouble anyways when the reserve dries up, or we can put it all into the military and hope that the attempted revolution against us begins before we no longer have enough oil to keep the army functioning. I am certainly more than willing to avoid either of those scenarios by guaranteeing that we will not be affected by the rise in oil prices to begin with."

"Nevertheless, you agreed to concede to Ankoreni dominance in exchange for oil," Yavuz replied, dryly. Helebceyî laughed slightly. "Oh, the petroleum deal wasn't the only concession they were willing to make," he said. He noted the shock on the faces of Cezerî and Birahîmî, and could not help but savor it. "The Ankorenis also vowed to drop all funding, shelter, and support for Islamic Collectivist, militant Islamist, and Bedouin separatist groups in Awiyyistan," Helebceyî explained. "Entirely, unequivocally, immediately, every single one of them will use the Ankoreni support they are relying upon to remain solvent. Do you realize what that means, gentlemen? The groups that have been a thorn in the side of this nation for decades will suddenly be entirely at our mercy. They will be left confused and panicked by their sudden inability to turn to Ankoren. And we will be able to crush them, decisively, once and for all."

Celalî stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak, but Helebceyî continued speaking to deny him the opportunity. "Not only that, the Ankoreni regime has even offered to unequivocally drop all of its claims to Heskîf should we accept. No Siphrian president has been able to end Ankoren's revanchist claims to that town. Not even Îsmaîl Ferîqî, one of the greatest Siphrian military minds of the century, after openly defeating the Ankorenis on the field of battle, could get Hakim Ali Ghaddar to drop Ankoren's pretenses to ownership of Heskîf. And we might very well now get it from the Ankoreni regime now. Do you understand what a victory that would be- both as propaganda, as a sign to the Siphrian people, but concretely? An end to those Ankoreni claims would be the greatest political and strategic victory won by Siphria since the end of the Heskîf War itself."

The intruders were silent; Cezerî's mouth hung agape, while Yavuz and Celalî wore their frustration on their faces. Birahîmî turned to Yavuz, bitterness in his eyes. "Your source did not tell us this," he declared angrily. "I am no longer a part of whatever you three are planning. Marshal, I am sorry for participating in this scheme," he continued, turning towards Helebceyî. "If I had known what was truly going on, I would not have taken such a foolish action in the first place."

"Thank you, Admiral Birahîmî," Helebceyî replied, his smile widening as the intruders began to fracture. Birahîmî began to turn towards the door, only to be interrupted by Helebceyî. "Admiral, remain here. You have not been dismissed." Birahîmî froze, his expression sheepish; then he nodded meekly, and returned to where he had been standing.

"Alright, maybe the Ankorenis have said they'll give us all those things," Yavuz said, his tone still foolishly defiant. "But what reason do we have to believe they'll keep their word?" "The Ankorenis are going to want to focus their efforts entirely on Mazaristan in the coming months," Helebceyî responded. "They will want to prevent the Mazaris from increasing their own oil production to compensate for the sanctions, they will want to keep Aininian and Luziycan troops there on edge, they will want to make sure the Black Hand is doing everything possible to topple Yusuf Nasr. We're a thorn in their side, forcing them to split their attention and their resources in a fashion that weakens their operational capacity in Mazaristan."

"Besides," he continued, "the Ankorenis have never known what they'd do with Siphria if they did eventually defeat us. Would they establish a puppet regime, or allow a neutered Siphrian regime to remain? Give Awiyyistan independence, or no? Annex only Heskîf, or try and take more? How would they deal with the Baha'i majority, with the Aburrites? How many lives and how much treasure would they be willing to lose to a guerrilla campaign in the Khursaneh mountains and a terrorist campaign in the cities? They've been struggling with what to do with us since before even the Heskîf War. It's much simpler for them to just not have to think about Siphria at all, and if they obtain our tacit silence, they don't have to think about us, and can focus on the places they actually want to conquer."

"And what about going to someone else- someone who's opposed to the Ankorenis and the IFDS? The EC, for example!" Cezerî queried. "Was that option not considered?"

"It was considered, yes, and repeatedly," Helebceyî said dryly. "After Qurwê, after Kirranî, after Qataniyah, during the Heskîf Crisis. That was part of the point of our earlier hostility towards the Ankorenis; to rally the people behind us, yes, and to solidify power at home, but primarily to test the waters abroad and see who would offer to provide us assistance against them. And do you know how much help we received from the Esquarian Community, from the Aininians or Luziycans or the other powers that be? Nothing," he spat. "We attempted repeatedly to gain the support the EC. Every single time, we were ignored or rebuffed. The free world is not coming to our aid, General."

"In total, across the entirety of Esquarium, we received offers of support from three nations: Karazawa, Senria, and Min. But those three alone are not enough to tip the scales between us and the Ankorenis. Yes, the Karazawis are covertly sending us arms through some of their unsavory connections, but they cannot change the fact that Ankoren can mobilize more men against us than we could hope to mobilize against them. Yes, the Senrians are helping us arrange deals with the keiretu whereby they will move some of their industrial operations to Siphria, but all the Senrian-owned factories in Siphria will change nothing if we do not have the oil to power them. And they are all too far away to provide us any credible support should the Ankorenis invade."

"And what about the Council of the Faithful? Have they consented to your harebrained scheme?" Yavuz challenged. "Disciple Rehîmî was the first person I turned to after receiving the offer, and he appreciated the gravity of the situation and the benefits of this agreement far more than any of you do," Helebceyî replied. He attempted to keep his tone dry, almost frustrated, but nevertheless a tinge of satisfaction slipped in as once again he pulled the ground out from under Yavuz's feet. "Should you attempt to bring this before the Council, Disciple Rehîmî and his allies will rule in my favor. Even if you win over Disciple Merîwanî and his friends, you will not be able to muster a majority, and my decision will stand."

"As for the population," Helebceyî continued, "we do not have to worry about them. Every single political leader or party politician who might have raised trouble on the issue has been in protective custody since the attempted bombing at Şemzînan Palace. Welêt, Dilsoz, and al-Badawi al-Yawm will report on it exactly as I tell them to, as will Rohilatî Televîzyon, and should some source like Destûra, Komara, or Bassurū get it in their heads to challenge us then it would be very easy for us to shut them down or have them bought out by a competitor. Besides, officially all we're doing is proclaiming 'neutrality', which will be easy to sway the public on- especially coupled with an end to Ankoreni claims on Heskîf and the continued solvency of the Siphrian economy. And before long, they will be distracted by reports of victory after victory in Awiyyistan anyways."

"Then what about General Hewlêrî, and General Sadexî?" Yavuz asked. He really is grasping at straws now, Helebceyî chuckled to himself. "General Hewlêrî and General Sadexî also found out about the negotiations, from the same source that approached you, General Yavuz. They each approached me, individually, to seek clarification and make sure we were getting a fair deal. Once I explained the details to them, they conceded that I had taken the right course of action and vowed to support me. They certainly did not enter unannounced, threatening an attempted coup."

Yavuz, finally, dropped his defiant tone. "What th- how did- how did you know they got it from the same source?"

"Because your friend in the Foreign Ministry is my friend in the Foreign Ministry," Hesenpûr said, stepping forward with a sly grin on his face. "This was intentional on my part," Helebceyî said, his grin turning into a smile. "It is good to know who you can and cannot rely on... and it does not look like I can rely on any of you. I'm revoking your commissions- except for Admiral Birahîmî, since he came to his senses earlier than the rest of you- and I expect all of you to resign your positions in the government within twelve hours."

"And- and if we don't?" Yavuz said, attempting to keep a defiant tone he had already lost. "What do you think you can do to us then? We have men underneath us."

"Your army is harassing opium farmers in the Khursanehs, General, I do not think they would do you any good while you are in the capital. As for what will happen, you purchased a very nice house recently, didn't you, General?" Hesenpûr asked. "I wonder where you got the money. It would really be a shame if we were to discover you had been purloining money from the ministries you head to purchase it. That would, after all, be a serious crime under Siphrian law."

Yavuz fell silent. Helebceyî smiled; they were all broken. He had won. He gestured to the guards standing near the door. "Men, take these four men out of here, and keep an escort with them at all times until their resignations are submitted to me. All of them except Admiral Birahîmî have been stripped of their commissions and their rank, and you are not to listen to any orders from them. Is that understood?" The two guards nodded mutely. "Good. You are dismissed."

The guards began to escort the four intruders out of the room. Before they left, however, Helebceyî spoke up again. "And take former General Yavuz to the nearest holding cell," he ordered. "He's to be tried for embezzlement and misuse of government funds." Yavuz's mouth opened, but no words came out, and the guards merely nodded again and forced him from the room.

"Now, Evdirehmanê," he said to General Hesenpûr. "What were we talking about before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"I believe we were talking about which civilian politicians would be the most loyal in a potential 'civilianized' cabinet," Hesenpûr replied.

"Well, I suppose that's more important now," Helebceyî replied, grinning. "There are so many open ministries that need filling now."

[Nunalik]

"The provider brings in the harvest", Nunalikan propaganda poster dating from 1977, at the height of Puupi Kakatsak's Guide of the Revolution period.

[Aucuria]

https://www.dmargraitis.saeimas.ak/en/news/thoughts/with-regards-ankoren-mazaristan-hostages

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DOMINYKAS MARGRAITIS

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Deputy for Calvonia | Leader of the National Alliance

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THOUGHTS - With Regards to Ankoren
by Dominykas Margraitis - May 20, 2018

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Like many Aucurians, I'm utterly disgusted by Ankoren's decision to kidnap two innocent Aucurians, taking them hostage under nonsensical pretenses of "espionage" and "sedition". This is the latest in a long line of crimes and abuses by the Ankoreni regime- the self-proclaimed "Union of Nautasian Islamic Republics"- and I am praying that Steponas Ulevičius and Dolorė Muraškaitė are returned as soon as possible. My thoughts will be with their families and friends until this terrible crisis is over. And while I know there's already a lot circulating on this- including a refreshingly strong response from our president, and a statement by the director of the Barauskas Foundation- I'd nevertheless like to share my thoughts.

I can't be sure what exactly motivated Steponas Ulevičius and Dolorė Muraškaitė to join the Barauskas Foundation, or take up an assignment in Mazaristan. I mean, it certainly wasn't Ankoren's insane and delusional claims of "espionage", and there's a general list of values and traits that we could give to Ulevičius and Muraškaitė and people like them- but the only people who truly know are Ulevičius and Muraškaitė themselves, and they're held hostage in some Ankoreni prison camp right now.

But I worked with the Barauskas Foundation in my youth, back in the 1980s. And I remember what motivated me, and the other people I worked with, to join that organization. I remember what motivated us to seek assignment to Siphria- a country that was, then as now, under the control of a military dictator. At the time Siphria was ruled by a man named Îsmaîl Ferîqî who had no qualms about jailing and torturing dissidents, about using brute force to seize and hold power, about dispensing with any pretense of democracy in the country. In many ways, he was a man reminiscent of Mazaristan's Yusuf Nasr- another dictator with few moral qualms and even fewer restrictions on his power.

We knew that being assigned to Siphria would be dangerous. We knew that the Ferîqî regime, even though it was allowing the Barauskas Foundation to operate, would inevitably view us as suspect- that it would target us with extra surveillance, that it might periodically harass us at roadblocks or at the airport, that if things really got bad it might do far worse things to us- expel us, capture us, kill us. We knew that it had only been a few years since a military coup and only a few years more since Siphria had been invaded by the Ankorenis- even then, they were belligerent and expansionistic- and that there were terrorist cells operating in the country's interior that might view us as potential pawns in their plots.

But the Barauskas Foundation continued to work there, and there were always volunteers who were willing to seek assignment there, in spite of the danger. I am legitimately proud that I was one of those people. I spent about six years there, working in a tiny village called Šubur, deep in the Khursaneh Mountains, inhabited by a small community of Aburrites- the indigenous people of Siphria, who continued to live there in spite of facing constant persecution aimed at wiping them from the face of Esquarium, keeping their culture and their traditions alive. We helped them dig wells and irrigation canals for their fields, we built a primary school for the children and a small clinic for the sick, we helped rebuild homes that were falling apart. And we treated them with respect- we listened to their rules and traditions, we consulted their elders and the community, we shared what we had with them, and we treated them as equals. It was strange, for a lot of them, at first. No one had treated them as equals in centuries. No one had wanted them to share their culture and their traditions. No one had asked them what they wanted, or what their thoughts were; they were simply handed down orders by despots and tyrants. After so many centuries of cruelty and abuse, just treating them as human beings- as our equals, as our brothers and sisters- was unfamiliar.

The Barauskas Foundation still does work in Siphria, though I don't think it does much in Šubur any more. Shortly after I left, they turned their focuses towards other villages there- though I believe they still send volunteers to Šubur, to check up on the people living there and to see if there's anything they can do to help.

"Why," some might ask, "would the Barauskas Foundation work in such an unsafe place- even if it only assigned people who volunteered to work in those conditions? And why would anyone volunteer to work in a country where there were so many threats?"

It's because of things like Šubur. When you come to a people who have been downtrodden and cast out for centuries, and you reach out to them, pick them up, help them build themselves up, and treat them the way they're supposed to be treated- with dignity, with honor, with respect, with fairness- then you have improved their quality of living substantially, you have strengthened their community, and you have built the foundation for a prosperous and free society there. That was the philosophy that it was based upon from its earliest days. It was the philosophy that motivated Daumantas Barauskas to establish a group dedicated to helping the Atlians, deemed second-class citizens by the Grey Regime, even though this put him at risk of punishment by that same regime; it was the philosophy that motivated his son Vytautas when he founded the Barauskas Foundation in honor of his father, to take that mission and bring it to all of Esquarium.

The Barauskas Foundation is built around helping people who have been ignored, or even actively beaten down, by the regimes that rule over them. It was built to help the people who are alone and abandoned, who are targeted by the regimes that are supposed to protect them, who are oppressed and terrorized- even when, especially when, nobody else dares to. It was built to make sure that people would have access to food, and water, and healthcare, and education, and their rights. That is why it operated in Siphria; that is why it operates in Mazaristan today.

Steponas Ulevičius and Dolorė Muraškaitė were almost certainly firm believers in that philosophy. They knew that they would be facing potential harassment from the Mazari and Ankoreni regimes, from terrorist cells like the Black Hand and the "Caliphate" and the Dashtani-Druze "Authority". They knew that it would be risky. But they did it anyways, because they were heroic and selfless and dedicated to lifting up the Mazari people, who have been beaten down for so many years by war, tyranny, and terrorism. They wanted to empower the powerless, to give them access to the life they so badly deserved, to alleviate the pains of poverty and oppression and injustice. They wanted to do for the fine people of Tell Busayrah what their predecessors did for the village of Šubur.

That, I think, is why they were there, in Mazaristan. Again, we cannot know for sure until they return home and tell us- but it is what all my experience with the Barauskas Foundation and people like them leads me to believe.

There can be no debate, however, about why the Ankorenis are doing this- why they have taken a pair of Aucurian aid workers hostage.

It's almost certain- essentially guaranteed, in fact- that the Ankorenis have kidnapped our civilians for the same reason they ordered their terrorist flunkies to target Aucuria's embassy in Jalawla: to try and punish Aucuria for taking a moral stand against their despicable acts, to try and bully the EC into dropping the sanctions levied against Ankoren for its crimes. But all that has happened is that they have proven, for the entire world, exactly why they deserved to be targeted by EC sanctions. What nation in Esquarium is more deserving of tariffs than one which refuses to respect the territorial integrity of its neighbors, which preaches fire and war and murder, which sponsors terrorist cells that target innocents, which operates massive networks of slave labor camps, which abducts humanitarian workers to extort the countries of their birth, which so utterly and totally crushes every single human right or liberty, reducing its own people to cogs in a great machine of blood and terror?

No other regime in Esquarian history comes close to inflicting upon this world the evil that the so-called "Union of Nautasian Islamic Republics" has. It is effectively unparalleled, even among the alliance of tinpot despots and bloodthirsty tyrants known as the IFDS. Even imperial Xiaodong, even Tuthina and Akai, pale in comparison. No other nation exercises such total, degrading, dehumanizing control over every aspect of its citizens' lives as Ankoren does. No other nation has so totally violated every principle of human rights as Ankoren does. No other nation has exported terrorism, insurgency, and mass murder like Ankoren has. No other nation has plunged an entire continent into turmoil and war like Ankoren has. No other nation in Esquarium so boldly and so repeatedly defies every rule of international law or, for that matter, basic human morality as frequently as Ankoren does.

They have been emboldened by our inaction over years, and we are suffering the consequences of that inaction now. If we had acted in 1980, or 1990, or 2000, or 2010, then we would not be facing the threat that we face now. We would not see half of Nautasia enslaved by rabid, murderous fanatics. But it is better to act belatedly then never, and we must not under any circumstances back down now. If we back down now, then this evil will continue to grow, and spread, and claim victims across Nautasia- and, now that Ankoren commands an axis of evil openly dedicated to the destruction of liberty, across Esquarium.

Let me be frank here: any nation in Esquarium that has so much as a shred of decency needs to recognize this for what it is and end any cooperation they might have- economic, political, or military- with the Ankoreni regime. Because cooperation with this- this sort of evil- is collaboration. It is complicity. Any world leader who is still willing to shake hands with Evren Volkan or Qassem Akbari is complicit. Any corporation still willing to do business in Ankoren is complicit. Any government still willing to work militarily with Ankoren, for any reason, is complicit. Any group that helps the Ankorenis avoid the tariffs that have been levied against them is complicit. They are enablers of perhaps the greatest evil Esquarium has yet known. The blood of millions of innocent men, women, and children is on their hands. They are guilty.

Three or four years ago, we were worried about what would happen if the so-called "Caliphate" managed to cement its power and establish a regime in Nautasia. Today, we are seeing what that would have looked like- and then some. The Caliphate, even at its worst, was nothing more than an overgrown criminal gang of aging Salafi fanatics and angry unemployed young men with black market guns. Ankoren is an order of magnitude more fanatical, more powerful, more terrifying, and I dare say more evil than the Caliphate ever was. Ankoren is built upon the same willingness to slay the innocent, the same bloodthirsty inhuman fanaticism, the same immoral totalitarianism, the same violations of the laws of war, the same utter disregard for any semblance of human decency as the Caliphate- but in Ankoren, it is bolstered by all the might of a powerful, competent regime with control over every facet of its citizens' lives, with vast reserves of blood-soaked petrodollars, with modern technology and weapons of war. And as a result it is far more dangerous to us than the so-called "Caliphate" ever was. It can export terrorism more effectively, it can take hostages with greater impunity, it can use far deadlier and more horrific weapons upon combatants and civilians alike. And we see it exporting its techniques and crimes across Esquarium- to Xiaodong, to Razaria, to Qaradalai, and potentially soon to Namor too.

The Ankoreni regime is the greatest threat to liberty in this generation. And the free world should not, cannot rest, until it has contained it- or destroyed it- forever. Until then, there'll be a lot more Ulevičiuses and Muraškaitės- and thousands and thousands more dead Nautasians, murdered by Ankoreni terrorism and tyranny.

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[The IASM]

Rangsgraw
Lshang Grand Duchy
Tshüwklü
Akai

Liatüng

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The city of Rangsgraw was one ultimately too venerable and ancient for its own good. It had been around in one form or another for centuries before an idea of Akai was a reality and has grown ever since. It was fortunate in that it sat in a particularly useful choke point, where the two rivers the Wnökwnrong and the Ftrakwnrong were mere meters away from one another. Given the leviathan size of such rivers and the vast plains ready for agricultural cultivation it is no wonder why it is often said that behind Günlang, Rangsgraw always lurks. At a population of nearly 23 million souls, it was one of the largest cities in the north by a wide margin, even beating out the nominal capital of Tökcthgwa in the lands of the clan Ngawsgren, a far younger but arguably luckier clan. The city was divided by four sets of octagonal walls each tall and used by local White Standard Army men as convenient posts and stations; these walls in turn divided up the city easily into rings. The fourth and outermost ring was where most of the population lived in stacked slums which were growing every year. More and more people moved into the cities as farming becomes more and more efficient and industries grow at the expense of these individuals. The poverty was always noticeable here as was the stench, one of rancid meats, excess fluids and excretion of all kinds in spite of the perfectly adequate toilet systems installed five years ago. Sweat soaked the air as the organised chaos of the streets, one layered over the other pushed people into their line of work. Gang crime was rampant in some areas, where they could not go without a week without some poor thing being skinned for annoying the wrong fellow. Police responses were often just as brutal, one incident wiping out a whole gang without trial. The third ring was comparably more organised and held far stricter regulations on things such as building planning and car ownership, with congestion charges and public transport being encouraged for the most part. The streets here in comparison to the thin organic chaos of the outermost ring were straight and planned with a traditional precision. Despite this, it was still not exactly wealthy and resembled a more wealthy peasant town than a city. Albeit one seedier than most, thanks to the expansive brothels and the abundance of duplicitous men. The second ring was the sort of parts of the city which resembles its old stereotype. Rich mansions on their own small islands, with small canals dominating instead of streets. The only exception to this was the central business district, which had a fourth of the ring just to itself and the Kiatsu rapidly exploited it. It was by far the ugliest part of the city, tall brutalist skyscrapers which were built more to serve a purpose rather than to beautiful in any way. The innermost ring was the Thlial’s personal lands and it contained both their vast pyramid palaces and also the variety of museums and universities which they were the patrons of. Rangsgraw remained a city of desire and of relative opportunity and if the efforts which made the inner city so relatively prosperous were applied to the outer one day, things might be better.

Yet all this time one eternal clan seemed to rule over the beast, and they had little interest in bettering her, the Clan of Thlial. Few families could say to be as ancient as this city but the Thlial could, with their several thousand year histories giving them an all too infamous place in Akai history. They were the regional Kingmakers and their familial title of Great Duke was that proof of that. Few could also say that they predated even the royal Zun House, something few could ever boast about. To say that the family continually ruled father to son would be inaccurate, as they ended up expanding so much that the fourteen surviving branches thanks to an abundance of concubines and being around longer than anyone really should be had forced them to adopt a system of rotation. While each branch of the dynasty has a hereditary title which provides them with a steady income, after the death of a Great Duke, they will assemble and among the existing Margraves rotate until they find a margrave or family member worthy of the role. The present Great Duke was a man well respected among certain circles of Akai society, particularly those who occupy the capital of Qung. Uksgrang Thlial in this sense embodied very much the sort of ambitious noble who instead of preserving their feudal powers sided with the late Wöng'a Thearch in his nuclear quest to unify and renew the nation. He was a patron of several charities, something he tried to keep hidden when he could but his most famous role was serving as Commandant-Marshal of the Strategic Weapons Unit. He ultimately was the architect of much of what happened in that war and was one of the main advocates of the nuclear program. But he was a man in his sixties now, and increasingly ageing. Whenever one looked upon his heavy visage, you saw that inbred sunken chin and those tired eyes, this became more than apparent.

This could not be said of Liatüng, who in the cosmopolitan mess of the city somehow stuck out even here. He was a monk from the Governorate of Lu and its prestigious Wnuishu order. A man with long flowing hair dyed jet black, covered in a layer of bone and ash paint and with vibrant tattoos of red orchids and heavenly snakes which traced his muscles. He wore a simple robe made from leopards fur which provided him with three layers. The monk carried a large walking staff at his side and on his back, he burdened a large guitar case. He continued to walk forwards through the thick crowds of the fourth wall, and watched the various lenders who were more preoccupied in trying to get everyone’s attention, they failed to get the attention of anyone. Fakes of every kind littered stores, while food of varying quality and taste began to catch the famished monk’s eye.

One Minwa cook was preparing what seemed to be a fish as long as his forearm covered in a layer of salt at least an inch or three thick. The monk shifted out from the crowds and let his curiosity tug at his leash as he watched the fish slowly be cracked open in a methodical manner by the cook with a clearly well-worn knife. The Salt began to shatter apart and revealed the large fish underneath, clearly some kind of tuna. The cook then took another yet distinctly more dangerous looking knife to start to bisect the meal in front of him and separated the large tuna into two pieces. While it was a clean job now came the issue of removing the large skeleton contained within, in which he called for his two assistants from within the kitchen to help. They curiously however cut around the main parts of the skeleton and removed the rest and began to place them on hot dishes, to be served. Liatüng approached the chef: “Hey, hey!”

“What is it?” the chief replied, “oh it's a monk, your kind is pretty rare to see passing here, I thought you’d be all stuck up in Lu.”

“Some of us have duties beyond the grandmastery you know, charity work and the like, Master Las wants to have our kind doing more to help the poor in the world,” Liatüng replied in a polite way as was expected of him. While he certainly knew of wilder personalities, monks tended to try to retain their reputation and face in public.

“So do you actually want to try this or something?” the chef asked as he began to work on some kind of fruit salad. “If so it’d be 70 Rang,” he barked trying not be drowned out by the crowds. “It’s tuna, should be nice.”

“Fine, I’ll take it, you got any tables?” Liatüng asked as he began to step inside this restaurant, taking out his phone to message his associate; ‘I will meet you in 30 minutes.’ The Minwa chef pointed to one of his domestic servants who in turn directed him to a table. ‘Presently at this restaurant in the outer ring. I will get into position soon.’ Before he took his set he approached the statue of the Thearch Liannu and bowed his head before it reverentially as was expected of all Akai. Besides, there were several Khaturvic idols and statues scattered around, all smaller than the Thearch’s shrine as was the legal requirement. His table was in the corner of the room, with his back against the wall, as was to be expected of someone of his purpose. He placed his guitar case against the wall along with his staff. A television, one as weathered as everything else in this place was displaying the news in its propagandistic manner. The usual diatribes about crime being reduced, the spread of prosperity etc. While many seemed eagerly attached to it, Liatüng was less bothered. Eventually, a plate arrived with a tuna steak on it, with the chef eagerly beaming with a faux-pleasure.

“I hope you enjoy it, monk,” the said in a tone rather counterproductive for a service provider.

“Oh it looks great,” the monk replied earnestly, Liatüng was more than used to the banal plain meals and food served at the temple, this was a luxury in comparison. He took his chopsticks and speared the chunks of steak before him and began to eat. The salt added a great deal of flavour to the tuna, enriching it almost. “Have you heard as of late we got a new Grand Administrator just up north?”

Liatüng about to take another bite paused and lowered his chopsticks, “Of course, His Imperial Highness Prince Daoyang shall be taking command of the Galtung Commandery just east of here. Not exactly a prestigious placement but an important one for a boy like him,” the monk explained. The station in question was on the east bank of the river and contained the more tribal peasant lands. The post, however, was more the second most influential commandery in the region, with its holder usually being responsible for taming the Zhlial.

“Let us hope that he is better than his predecessor, being caught rogering some corporate whore trap thing isn’t exactly the best way to go,” the chef explained as he placed a hand laughing on his large belly. “I’ll leave you to it then, just leave the money in the bowl there.”

Liatüng sighed and began to eat again, as he began to continue to eat the meal, of which he greatly enjoyed as the succulence began to satiate his hunger. He was steadily progressing through his meal when he felt a text come through. It was from his associate, ‘you should get moving if you haven’t. The target has set off earlier than expected.’ With a heavy sigh, Liatüng left the money in the bowl as he grabbed what remained of the tuna and put it into a napkin to carry. Guess I’ll eat this latter. “May the Thearch protect you,” he blessed grabbing his things and began to set out on his journey.

Once again he re-entered the evening the crowds, this time a bit more purposeful as he approached what he needed to get to. It was a guard station, one undermanned at this point in time and reliably corrupt. Fortunately for him, the guards were changing shift thanks to some extra motivation provided by Master Las and the rest of his brothers. Around it there were more than enough beggars most of whom were orphans, barefoot and distinctly without purpose. Liatüng looked on them with pity, knowing their pain rather intimately. He went to them and gave them each ten Rang, to purchase a meal before continuing behind a back alley. It was the last boy however he did things differently. “Hello, could I ask a favour of you boy, I’ll make it worth your time” he inquired gently as he revealed his meal with several hundred Rang notes behind it. He took out his rifle, and then he gave this orphan his closed guitar case and informed him what he wanted him to do. The rifle in question was a military spec 12.7×55mm silenced sniper rifle, sourced from one of the Clan Sasla’s more shady storefronts.

As expected there was a ladder which ran across the spine of the building next to it. Liatüng began to grapple its rusty sides and climb up it, and escalated several floors until he reached the top. He could see easily the gate to the inner rings and the main several roads which ran through the spine of the city. He took his position, he knew what he needed to do here, and he needed to do it properly and surgically. It would be a moral abomination to let more than absolutely die in such a situation but he knew his purpose.

He waited and waited, waiting for the passage of time to cease. It was then he saw his target, a small motorcade which contained Great Duke Uksgrang. By the standards of Akai, it was a humble affair, a simple open top Qi automobile group LC17 which served as both a demonstration of power and of trust. It was flanked by four police APCs, each probably containing more than enough men to deal with a riot. The monk watched as the boy ran towards the road with the heavy guitar case, and he waited until the last possible moment to throw the thing into the path of the motorcade. What followed was a simple affair, as a huge blast broke the ambience of ordinary tedium and chaos began to break out. Two of the APCs had their tires wrecked and a third was turned over. Uksgrang’s vehicle as planned was damaged and immobile and its inhabitants gravely injured. Liatüng looked through his scope and surveyed the scene, and saw the panicking police and the old Duke in a state of shock. He was not dead, not yet. And so Liatüng prepared to finish off the job. He steadied his aim and stared down at the lord whose men were quickly coming to his aid and fired rapidly two silenced subsonic rounds. One seemed to strike his back, while the other missed. However, However, that is all that would be needed, the monk knew for they were poisoned to the point where the chances of living were slim. He seemed not to react to the impact and simply barked some orders, presumably to search for a sniper. Impressive, quite the hardy man.

It was there and then that he opened his phone and began to ring up the man he was talking to all this time. He was sure that this signal couldn’t be tracked, it was a foreign design carefully modified to be free of such surveillance although he always held his doubts. It was picked up almost immediately: “Is it done my child?” The voice was grandfatherly and dignified, full of affection in spite of the task he had him carry out.

With a tense and heavy response: “My dear master, I assure you that the duke is soon to be dead. He is gravely injured and I have hit him with one of my rounds, and he is far from medical services. I doubt he will live to see the end of his week by that point.”

“Good, good…” the voice simply responded at hearing the news. “What you have done is the first step in one of many, but it was a crucial one. I have always appreciated your skills my child, and your service heaven through your universal love will not be forgotten by us. But now, you must complete the plan. I am sorry.” The call cut off there, much to the displeasure of Liatüng. He knew what he needed to do, but he was not sure whether he wanted to. From underneath his cloak, he took a bottle of petrol and began to dose himself in it. The smell of it overwhelmed him and he began to gag as he accidentally got some in his mouth. It didn’t matter really but it was unpleasant. He then got out some matches and stared at them. He wondered whether what he was doing was right or not, but now he knew it was too late to go back. Then he remembered his master’s words ‘the fear of death is the chain that ties us to nature, rid yourself of it can you can soar to heaven and beyond.’ He stared at it more and then chose to light the flame. He didn’t even need to get it to touch him as a spark caught his oil dozed hand and his flesh began to scream. But he repressed the urge and quietly took his place upon the edge and began to watch this city of poverty and decay. He looked at the prostitutes, the workers, the police panicked, the full breadth of it and in all his pain smiled. Soon, they shall be free.

[Razarija]

[REDACTED], Favillum
Esquarian star system
20██/██/██
████ hours

A pond rests tranquil on the surface of this satellite of Aurorum. It has an identifiable green tint, and a thick stench irritating to any nose that for whatever reason might be present on this world.

A part of its shore collapses, and here its viscosity is demonstrated, as it is slow to engulf and submerge the soil that had disintegrated and fallen.

It begins to ripple.

It bubbles.

It boils.

The bubbles can be seen at its bed, but soon they vanish. Not one visible, but the effervescence still continues at the surface.

The liquid is now opaque.

Out emerges a hump, a brown one, its surface decorated by folds. Then its full silhouette is revealed to be a cloaked figure.

"Well this is a cool intro." he muttered in Razarian before stepping out of the pool and onto the graphite soil that broke under weight of his feet.

He strides.

He strides.

He strides.

He strides.

He strides. Trying to forget the 60,000 tegs he lost by a bad investment a week ago.

He strides.

He strides.

He strides. Daily reminder the first queen of Min was a prostitute.

He strides.

He strides.

He strides.

He stops.

A goddess stands before another pool, but of different contents, admiring her reflection. Her hair drapes and shapes like a curtain, and her modesty is secured by her headdress, both of which her worshippers' images and idols depict well.

If you know anything, like just the most basic factoids about Costeny and men coming out of ponds saying shitty one-liners, you'd know the next scene would not be minor-friendly.

It still is, but is not.

The goddess senses him. Her eternal boredom is defeated harder than the Xiaodongese in Senria. As expected, she does not turn.

"You're a really dedicated fan, huh."

█████████ is irked by the prideful idol's mockery. But he suppresses frustration, for one's heart should be greater than all to accommodate devoured gods.

"Does a goat not know if a tiger prowls before it?"

"For certain goats, even lions fall ecstatic in desire for them."

The prey is truly oblivious, thought the cloaked man. He pinches the garment by the hood and tries to pull it off, for a dramatic reveal of his character.

Tries.

He pulls again, yanks it, drags it. It won't come off, stuck somewhere at his waist. What and why?

By this time the divinity had noticed the awkward situation the challenger was in and had turned, moving towards him. "Do you need help?"

Conveniently timed, the man manages to rip the cloak off him, a small bit still glued by some unknown force in his belt. Razarian National Armed Forces field combat smocks, the latest camouflage pattern, binoculars and an assault rifle slung before his chest, the figure looked poorly equipped for god-slaying.

That being the case here, from his profile protruded dozens of tendrils and appendages sufficient to completely obstruct his original outline.

"I take that as a no then," she enunciated, slightly disoriented by the current appearance of the adversary.

"Submit, or fight and be forced to submit." the man issued a very Neritsovid ultimatum. The storm-wheel was turning.

"Well, I'll be picking the second one if you don't mind, and as always, ladies first."

Through her ornaments lights shine. Still work of the Demiurge, though. They cast a burning radiation upon his tentacles, tearing away some of it, but it would only rapidly regenerate as he would soon show the goddess the futility of continued defiance.

"That's all you have? Open the gates."

The tendrils multiplied, nearly exponentially, engulfing her bracelets, necklaces and amulets wherever evil masqueraded as brightness. She sought more points for her progenitor to manifest through, but even if they continued shining they could not counter the hands of righteous faith; the True Lord watched and shaped them as necessary to triumph.

All her accessories had now been covered by masses of tentacles, and so now the pores on her skin would fluoresce, but it was only to legitimize marking the rest of her as a target, and very soon a mummy of her had been created.

She struggled while being smothered, fighting against the professional god-eater. But no part of her translated to resistance, even as every element of her was immersed in pain and destruction, a rightful if even underpowered punishment for rebellion against His will.

He closed in on the cocoon of appendages, and willed the sack of Axopol, the vaporization of Cifelacan, the plunder of an Aburrite ziggurat, the bloodbath of Gyaros, the incarnation of Tatuvaki, and the inundation of Xiangmen. Worlds simultaneously chanted in reverence.

Terophite troops march into Karanopol.

The Immortals storm Adana as it is pulverized in nuclear fire.

Five thousand Xiangkhur are beheaded and their bodies defiled.

He gazed upon the faceless ones.

As the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques executes the last State Preceptor of Tinza on ████.██ to the cheers of the Karazawan populace, the feast completes yet begins anew.

The man looks down upon the subjugated hand of the Petty-Creator, injured and defeated, and resumes.

[Luziyca]

Transcript of the interview of the captain of the K-70
August 6th, 2018
Somewhere in Luziyca

---

An officer from the Department of Homeland Security and Immigration arrives for the interview with the captain of the K-70. With him is a translator who has knowledge of Luziycan, Kheratian, and Boratian, to translate for the captain, in case he does not possess knowledge of Luziycan.

Interviewer: What is your name?
Captain: My name is Agvan Bayangiin Shurdaankhan.
Interviewer: What is your rank?
Captain: Captain.
Interviewer: What is the reason for arriving in Luziyca?
Captain: I did not come here on my own will.
Interviewer: Can you clarify?
Captain: I was brought here against my own will.
Interviewer: Was there a mutiny among your crew?
Captain: There were traitorous elements, yes.
Interviewer: Can you describe the events that led to the mutiny?
Captain: No, I cannot.
Interviewer: I'd like to reassure you that any and all information that is discussed in this interview shall not be shared with the crew. With this information in mind, are you willing to describe the events that led to the mutiny?
Captain: No, I cannot.
Interviewer: Very well: what were the demands of the mutineers?
Captain: They wish to seek asylum.
Interviewer: In Luziyca?
Captain: More or less.
Interviewer: Were there any other demands?
Captain: Not that I know of. I was removed from command and confined to my quarters.
Interviewer: Very well. Thank you for your information, Captain.

At this point, the interviewer leads the Captain out of the room.

[Luziyca]

Congressional Palace
City of Bethlehem
August 7th, 2018

---

"Mr. President," the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security and Immigration began, "we have received all the interviews that are necessary, and it has turned out that the crew of the K-70 submarine seeks asylum. However, it seems to have been a mutiny, as according to the Captain of the K-70, the crew removed him from his command and confined him to quarters."

Damir Agapov shook his head in frustration. This recent update on the K-70 case revealing that most of the crew had mutinied against the captain made it feel like they should not be granted asylum: while he'd personally deport them back to Kheratia if he had an opportunity to do so, he knew that if he sent them back to Kheratia, his chances of winning in 2019 would decrease to a point where Vasiliev would almost certainly govern Luziyca.

On the other hand, by granting the crew of the K-70 asylum, it would seem to reward the mutineers for disobeying the captain and his orders. In addition, as relations between Luziyca and Kheratia were not great, granting them asylum may increase the risk of conflict between Kheratia and Luziyca.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Agapov spoke up.

"On one hand, granting them asylum is politically popular and will likely secure us a propaganda coup against the Kheratians," Agapov said. "If we send any crew member back to Kheratia, the entire crew may probably be executed for mutiny, and/or failing to suppress a mutiny. As well, by granting them asylum, they may be able to start new lives: to start their own families, to start their own businesses, and do all the things that they could not do back home."

"On the other hand, mutiny is a grave crime: if the crew of the K-70 mutinied against their captain, there is always a chance that they might rise up against Luziyca. It should never be rewarded: we would have court-martialed the mutineers, and sentenced them to life in prison without parole: why should they be allowed in?" Agapov said. "As well, if we return the crew to Kheratia, it might help us improve international relations, and thus, our standing on the world stage."

"Perhaps, Mr. Mushenkov, we can admit those who did not mutiny, and deport the rest to Kheratia?" Agapov asked.

"Mr. President," Mr. Mushenkov replied, "the crew who did not mutiny seem to want to return to Kheratia. To grant them asylum while deporting the rest, while it is fine on paper, ignores the fact that they want to go home to their families, while the mutineers want to stay in Luziyca to start a new life."

"Very well, Mr, Mushenkov," Agapov said. "Ms. Novak, do you believe that if we grant the crew and captain of the K-70, it would harm our national security?"

"Sort of, Mr. President," she said. "While most of the crew wants to live in Luziyca, the Department of Homeland Security and Immigration has noted that there are six people, including the captain, who do not want to live in Luziyca. Those six crew members might pose a security risk, especially if they are forced to live in Luziyca against their will."

"While I imagine that we can easily mitigate the risk, especially if we place the six people who might be a security risk in, say, the state of Ravnina, which is pretty far from any international border, or by returning them to Kheratia, it would probably be easier for the Christian Republic to either admit them en-masse or deny them, because if we send those who did not mutiny home, or vice-versa, it may make us seem like we are holding hostages."

Surprisingly, the Secretary of Department of Labor, Deianira Argyrou, spoke up, even though the topic at hand did not really concern him.

"Mr. President," she said, "perhaps we can only deport them if we are given reassurances that they and their families will not be executed or worse? If they are not willing to not execute them and their families, then we should give them asylum."

"That is actually a great idea, Mrs. Argyrou," Agapov said. "Are there any objections?"

"Nay," replied everyone else.

"Very well, then," Agapov said. "This meeting is adjourned."

With that, he slammed the gavel, and everyone made their way out of the cabinet room.

[Tuthina]

Frigid wind rushed from the pale northern sky as the land slowly sank into the depth of winter. The surrounding mountains, dominated by thicket of evergreen wood, were now covered with a blanket of snow extending as far as eye could see. Even the large lake to the north was frozen, with its mirror-like surface decorated by a light slush of snow.

Walking outside into the emerging snowstorm, Irenka could not help but tug his cape closer to the old body. Every breath manifested itself as white smoke that was quickly drowned in the powdery snow. With each step down the grand staircase extending from the building, the light from it also slowly faded into the midwinter long night.

Scattering rays from the Sun behind the hills barely lit the large square between him and road outside, the flanking rows of gas lamps helping little against the twilight. Still, there was little that he could do but to keep walking towards the limousine waiting from him to depart.

As he traversed the plaza, though, what awaited at its end became more and more apparent to him. Although his vehicle and chauffeur could be seen waiting at the designated parking space, he also spotted another car taking up the space behind it.

The luxury saloon car itself bore little to differentiate itself from others used by the upper class of the country. However, the small crowd approaching from its side quickly shattered any illusion of it being just another visitor. Irenka narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip as he kept his pace steady. Decades of diligent service might have grinded down his body, but his mind remained sharp as ever.

Paying no care to the austere posture of the man, his counterpart simply strolled under the protection of her followers in ease, as the two parties finally stop their steps mere feets away from each other. The old, blue eyes stared intently at the young, amber eyes, hinting at his displeasure. That said, formality and the difference in rank between them mandated him to offer her the traditional greeting salute of the land, with his left palm pressing against knuckle from his right fist. "Good evening, your Most Serene Highness. I am honoured by your presence."

"Good evening, Curator." With a simple gesture, the entourage moved out of the way and allowed the two to converse directly. Fitting for her aristocratic upbringing, myriad elaborate decorations covered the traditional T-shaped robe of the country, including a platinum-coloured fur collar intended to keep her warm in the blizzard. In addition to it, the noblewoman also wore a small, black cape beneath. Holding both together was a pin with a stylised yellow rose on her chest. "I trust that you're diligent in your work as always?"

"Of course." It was obvious that the displeasure was mutual, as her haughty tone made her unspoken word deafening clear for Irenka. "If you wish to inquire about the incident in Khëyyang, I can assure you that investigation is well underway to root out the rebel group."

"That said, I am afraid that I still have matters to attend to, and cannot personally cater to your query. I am sure you will find the service of my secretary satisfactory." Irenka offered a slight bow to the lady, as he readied himself to end the conversation. However, her voice stopped him from taking another step in the sheet of snow.

"Is that so?" Her young adult body required lifting her head to look the old man in the eyes. Combined with the rest of her body language, though, her gesture ended up more similar to her looking down in Irenka as he turned his gaze towards hers.

"Of course, Your Highness. I do not intend to boast, but even His Most Serene Majesty himself finds my service useful enough to appoint me to this exalted office in the first place."

"Naturally, that is why he has personally appointed someone with His sacred lineage to investigate your service in regards to the treacherous incident." She was, of course, referring to herself, and her body language clearly showed her pride in her parentage. After all, not everyone could have the undisputed absolute monarch of a major power to call herself "elder sister". Her sentiment, however, did not echo with Irenka, as the old officer simply maintain his composure in spite of her challenge, veiling his contempt towards someone young enough to be his granddaughter.

"Yes, I have been informed of that, Your Highness. While it is unfortunate that I cannot personally accompany you during your inspection, I am certain that your divine blood shall shed clarity on our innocence. With that, please excuse this old one." Irenka offered another now to the lady, before resuming towards his exit. Despite the inquisitorial gaze from her guards, the lady simply made a small hand gesture to dismiss their inquiry, leaving only one more sentence before they part ways.

"There is no such thing as innocence, only degrees of guilt." Her voice was drown in the worsening snowstorm, as the small convoy entered the comfort of the building interior. At its lobby behind thick glasses, the emblem of the Imperial Censorate was in display prominently, reflecting the lights shining upon it. For many, the sign of the agency was alone to instill fear in their mind, for it was entrusted by the Emperor to eliminate subversion and treason with any means necessary, and was only answerable to him.

For Malapime, the noblewoman who shared the sacred blood of the monarchy, though, it was simply yet another servant of her family since time immemorial - although an exceptionally powerful and often useful one. Recognising her status and mission, armed guards and officers alike quickly turned around and offered a deep bow towards the regal visitor.

She was, however, not interested in entertaining her lesser, simply passing a gaze towards them before continuing her march towards the interior of the building. With her out of their sight, members of the Censorate let out a sigh of relief before returning to their work, with other members repeating the ritual as Malapime strolled through the heart of Imperial intelligence like it was her home.

The boots of the lady finally stopped as she entered the spacious lift of the building, turning half a circle to face the panel controlling it. Unlike the more common design with buttons denoting each floor, this one simply possessed a numeric keypad and a monitor, with a key hole beneath it. Without asking, her gloved hand invaded the pocket of one of her followers, fumbling a bit before procuring a silvery key from it.

With the key sliding into the hole and clicking perfectly, the black glove reached for the keypad, before entering a string of numbers not resembling floor number. However, with a flash on the monitor, the lift rumbled before making its slow descend into the underbelly of the Censorate through layers and layers of reinforced structure. While it meant anything short of a direct nuclear strike would not be able to pierce the heart of the agency, the tedious process was apparently enough to make the princess irate, as her boot clicks on the orchid emblem embellishing the floor.

Finally, with a simple bell sound, the lift stopped, and the door opened to reveal an exquisite hallway, brightly illuminated to eliminate any shadow from the porcelain and paintings that transformed the underground bunker into something like a top-class hotel.

"Finally." She muttered as she marched towards the only door on the other end of the corridor, her footsteps picking up speed as her servants followed in silence. After all, if she wanted input from her inferior, she would ask once in a blue moon.

Although she knocked on the wooden door, she spared no time for anyone to react before pressing the silvery handle and opening the door, its inertia about the only thing preventing her from slamming the door wide open.

The room on the other side of the door was similarly well-crafted by artisan hands, although it was nowhere as brightly-lit as the corridor, resulting in both the princess and her followers having to instinctively blink a few times as they adjust to it.

As the office of the Imperial Curator, it had everything that one would expect for its function, including a black, luxurious office desk complete with swivel chair, as well as a computer with its monitor sitting at the side of the desk. However, the room also included a miniature bar, as well as a much larger flat-panel monitor facing the desk.

It took a full second before Malapime recognised that they were not alone in the room. Standing behind the bar counter, a female in traditional garment was standing in fear, her body shaking a little as her hands rest behind the counter. Upon seeing the uninvited guests had noticed her, she hastily bowed deep enough her head was mere inches above the bar table, looking as if she was prostrating towards her. "G-greeting, Your Highness! I'm honoured by your presence!"

"At ease." Although she could not help but smile at that introduction, Malapime simply waved her hand to dismiss her, before strolling to the chair of the Curator and taking a comfortable seat in it. "So, are you the bartender? Pretty sure it's not part of the official staff."

"N-no, ma'am, I'm Lord Kimunkotan's secretary." The secretary answered, giving Malapime a deep bow before returning to her upright position. "Is there anything that I can be of service?"

Without offering an answer, Malapime simply continued her stroll towards the office desk. One of her followers took a step forward towards the leather chair behind the desk, pulling it out just in time for the noblewoman to take her seat. It was obvious that the high quality material and craftsmanship was reflected by how comfortable the chair was, as she quickly sank herself into it while turning towards the table.

"With, with due respect, Your Highness, but the chair belongs to - "

"To the Censorate." Malapime interrupted her words, immediately shutting the following syllable in the mouth of the timid secretary. "The curator isn't here, is he?"

"No, ma'am." After all, her lineage alone was more than enough to justify her using anything in the facility if she wishes. The only one with the authority to reject her would be those within the Imperial family, and it was unlikely that they would side against a blood relative for any outsider, even if the Imperial curator was to file a complaint.

"Good. Why don't you come back here? I'm not thristy." As the computer monitor on the desk glowed against her face, the princess pointed towards the secretary, before gesturing her to come to her. Quickly responding with a bow, the servant rushed from the bar towards her position, taking the empty spot just next to her as the gloved fingers rested upon the keyboard, unlocking it. With some simply clicks, the large monitor both behind and before her sprang into life as well, displaying the monochrome symbol of the Censorate.

"He must be a boring man." Malapime commented as she stares towards the almost aseptic nature of the computer setting, a stark contrast to the luxurious room surrounding them.

"Yes, ma'am… Lord Kimunkotan prefers not to have distraction while he is working." It took a noticeable beat before the secretary offered her answer to avoid speaking out of turn.

"How ironic. Let's change that from now on." The princess thought audibly as her hands began to reconfigure the computer to her whim, an action that caused the secretary to widen her eyes.

"Your, Your Highness? I am not sure if Lord Kimunkotan would be pleased about it…"

"Oh, I'm sure he won't." She answered in a matter-of-fact tone, clearly not caring about it. "While we're at it, you'll want to restock on wheat liquor. I like it peaty, especially those from Saviki."

"I-I am not sure if I'm capable of serving both you and the curator at the same time, ma'am." She gulped before offering her answer, fearful of anything that might provoke her.

"Oh, you don't have to worry. The two will be the same person soon enough." Despite her nonchalant tone, the implication was enough to cause the secretary to cover her mouth, barely able to suppress her shocked reaction.

"Go check the news. It should be about time they talk about an acting curator while the mess in Khëyyang is being investigated."

"I, I'll do so the moment my work is finished, ma'am."

"Why not now? I don't need your work right now." Malapime briefly paused her work as she turns towards the secretary, offering her a smile seemingly covering something beneath. "I know we have wireless network down here. It might be slow, but it'll do for now."

Briefly looking into her stare, the secretary gulped once more before sheepishly reaching into her pocket, procuring her mobile phone. With some nervous clicks, the newspaper site of her choosing apepars before her eyes. Sure enough, the headline had been updated into what the noblewoman just mentioned. "Oh, my… I'm-I am sorry for my imprudence, Lady acting curator!"

"Oh, don't worry about it." The moment she lifted her head, a decorated sheath slid perfectly beneath the secretary's chin, guiding her to look towards the smiling lady as her sheathed blade turned her head left and right for observation. "You're quite pleasing to the eyes. No wonder you became his secretary at such a young age."

"What, what do you mean, ma'am?" The mention of some rather unpleasant rumour of how she obtained her position despite lack of experience was clearly quite uncomfortable for her, as her expression put no effort in hiding. Letting out a giggle, Malapime lowered her sword as her other hand laid on the keyboard once more.

"That means I look forward for your service." The princess resumed her work, with several more clicks to apply the changes she entered into the curator's computer, causing the additional monitors to turn off temporarily while the change was propagated.

"But first," With that, she leaned against the chair once more, enjoying herself just in time the monitors return to life once more. The symbol of the Censorate no longer occupied the glowing screens. In its stead stood the rose symbol of her own lineage.

"It'll take a while for me to settle in."

[Namor]

October 2, 2018
12:00 pm | Executive House, Namo

President-General Antelope Shohai:

"Fellow citizens,

"Yesterday, on the anniversary of the conclusion of the First Namo-Luziycan War, the Luziycan regime announced its intention to hold a so-called referendum to alter the status of Namor's Nantai Prefecture. The so-called referendum, which is restricted mostly to Luziycan citizens, will decide whether the Luziycan-occupied parts of Nantai should return to Namorese administration or become an integral part of Luziyca.

"This decision by the Luziycan regime marks a flagrant violation of past agreements between Namor and Luziyca that Nantai Prefecture is a territory of Namor, parts of which are temporarily under Luziycan control and will eventually revert to Namorese control pending an agreement satisfactory to both sides. It is also a violation of our own principle — built upon our previous agreements with the Luziycans — that all Namorese people deserve a say in the future of their territory. Moreover, the decision introduces a voting process that is highly opaque, exclusionary, and incompatible with international standards. As a country with universal suffrage and fair elections for over fifty years, we are not going to entertain the Luziycan regime in their parody of democratic norms.

"I will remain in contact with the State Council, Ministry of Defense, as well as my colleagues in the Central Council, to discuss the appropriate response to the provocations from Bethlehem. While I cannot go into detail about the countermeasures that are under consideration, we will announce them in due time if we find them necessary.

"Thank you."