THE REPUBLIC OF SAATLAND
"A bosom friend afar brings distant land nearer."
- Ancient Chinese Proverb
Wu Jingyi adamantly flipped through his copy of the Neo-Manila Post, disguising his political intentions by adapting the attire of a Westernized Capilean: an apricot-colored long-sleeved shirt tucked into white pants, covered by a thick fur coat. He had received his apparel as a gift from one of his friends in the Asian Communist Party operating as a political charge d'affaires to a few left-wing factions in Canada a few weeks prior. Such attire was uncommon in retail stores of the Pan-Asiatic States, even in densely-populated economic development zones.
Jingyi was exhausted, eyebags hung from him rather deeply and conspicuously. Though he, a foreign emissary, should have been used to the conditions of this profession by now, the jet lag still took its toll on him, as it did everyone else. The strict and rigorous process which Saatland customs officers, who suspected everyone and anyone of being a Monarchist, Communist, or Fascist spy, entered him through, did not even nearly contribute to the betterment of his physical well-being. Nevertheless, he carried-on with the remainder of his strength; Jingyi hastily retrieved his bag from the airport's conveyer belt. He glared at a nearby clock as he exited the airport proper. It was around noontime.
Mere days ago, Wu Jingyi served the diplomatic corps in a less covert (if anything but covert) fashion, as a socioeconomic consultant in New Palembang City. There, he had spent his days growing fat on foreign delicacies, and maintaining the becoming of a Pan-Asiatic delegate. But now, things were different. Instead of buffet-tables and snobby political intrigue, he'd found himself surrounded by political activists, gendarme, and eventually, war.
Wu Jingyi had traveled from Neo-Manila to Paris, then from Paris to Ludislau, in Saatland, a neutral territory. When questioned by Saatlander officials, the guise he used to repress the true nature of his visit was a white lie: a fact-finding mission by the Asian Communist Party to survey the socioeconomic conditions of the Saatlander government in relations to how it had been handling its impromptu secession from the Grand Duchy. The truth of the lie was of course twofold, as the Asian Communist Party was indeed considering deploying socioeconomic aid for Saatland in the event of that its secession was not short-lived, and Wu Jingyi had indeed come on a fact-finding mission; albeit for a different reason.
Jingyi set his eyes on the lay of the land; the grandiose European architecture of the stateside, the workers in the factory, the schoolchildren in the schools, the avowedly religious population which went-about their day-to-day duties despite the rigidness of the conflict. Reaching one of the decorated fountains in the city's plaza, he sat alongside his luggage, awaiting a taxi. He brought-out his cellular phone, hoping there at least remained the maintenance of serviceable telecommunications despite active civil strife.
His wish was granted as a scruffy voice with a Southern Chinese accent picked-up his outgoing call.
"How's Nova Capile, Comrade-Socioeconomic-Officer? I hear the poppies in the countryside are lovely this time of year."
Jingyi recognized the irony in the caller's response, which had addressed him by his cover, and not as a rapporteur for the executive council, as he actually was. The voice was Qian Ling, his handler in the Ministry of State and Public Security, inquiring from Neo-Manila.
"Well, it's colder than New Palembang," retorted Jingyi. He shivered as a cool Capilean breeze flew down his spine. He motioned to close his coat, increasing its grip on Jingyi's body, thus increasing too, its thickness.
"Your feet wet?", asked the caller. The frozen climate of Saatland in September typically caused thin sheets of ice to form, beneath which were, nominally, a wet surface.
"Not yet.", responded Jingyi. He smiled at the newly-polished gleam of his boots.
A taxi noticed the gestures of the tall Chinese man. The ruggedly-dressed, Caucasian-Saatlander driver picked-up Jingyi. Upon being asked where to be taken, Jingyi replied it was to be at a well-known restaurant at the Capilean countryside, near the river situated North of Ludislau, just outside Kongsburg. He wanted to get as far near the border as he could, while not making his intentions obvious to the driver. A nonchalant shrug, one that Jingyi had been hoping for, preceded the driver stepping on the gas with full force. There wasn't much traffic on the way there.
Riding by the sites of the countryside and listening to the ramblings of his driver, the Pan-Asiatic agent would soon realize that the once revered and majestic country of Nova Capile was now an utter warzone, many of its sights had turn to disrepair, and all the grandeur that it had displayed regarding the superiority of its culture, monarchy, and heritage was now in disarray. The mighty, once-united Grand Duchy was, just as it was common for any human civilization, now hounded by ideological fanatics. The Capilean aristocracy was being slaughtered just as any man could be slaughtered. The war seemed to bring Nova Capile down to Earth. Jingyi had to keep his guard up, because everyone else already had.
When Jingyi got-off after tipping his driver a rather heavy sum, it was around two in the afternoon. After the car he had taken had disappeared into the nearby horizon, he set foot to meet General-Secretary Terry Blücher and the Socialist Union on behalf of the Pan-Asiatic cause. He marched South of the Kongs Mountains, trailing Northward to where locals had foretold of the legendary Communist base. He hid in his luggage his credentials to testify that he was a member of the Asian Communist Party.
Jingyi was exhausted, eyebags hung from him rather deeply and conspicuously. Though he, a foreign emissary, should have been used to the conditions of this profession by now, the jet lag still took its toll on him, as it did everyone else. The strict and rigorous process which Saatland customs officers, who suspected everyone and anyone of being a Monarchist, Communist, or Fascist spy, entered him through, did not even nearly contribute to the betterment of his physical well-being. Nevertheless, he carried-on with the remainder of his strength; Jingyi hastily retrieved his bag from the airport's conveyer belt. He glared at a nearby clock as he exited the airport proper. It was around noontime.
Mere days ago, Wu Jingyi served the diplomatic corps in a less covert (if anything but covert) fashion, as a socioeconomic consultant in New Palembang City. There, he had spent his days growing fat on foreign delicacies, and maintaining the becoming of a Pan-Asiatic delegate. But now, things were different. Instead of buffet-tables and snobby political intrigue, he'd found himself surrounded by political activists, gendarme, and eventually, war.
Wu Jingyi had traveled from Neo-Manila to Paris, then from Paris to Ludislau, in Saatland, a neutral territory. When questioned by Saatlander officials, the guise he used to repress the true nature of his visit was a white lie: a fact-finding mission by the Asian Communist Party to survey the socioeconomic conditions of the Saatlander government in relations to how it had been handling its impromptu secession from the Grand Duchy. The truth of the lie was of course twofold, as the Asian Communist Party was indeed considering deploying socioeconomic aid for Saatland in the event of that its secession was not short-lived, and Wu Jingyi had indeed come on a fact-finding mission; albeit for a different reason.
Jingyi set his eyes on the lay of the land; the grandiose European architecture of the stateside, the workers in the factory, the schoolchildren in the schools, the avowedly religious population which went-about their day-to-day duties despite the rigidness of the conflict. Reaching one of the decorated fountains in the city's plaza, he sat alongside his luggage, awaiting a taxi. He brought-out his cellular phone, hoping there at least remained the maintenance of serviceable telecommunications despite active civil strife.
His wish was granted as a scruffy voice with a Southern Chinese accent picked-up his outgoing call.
"How's Nova Capile, Comrade-Socioeconomic-Officer? I hear the poppies in the countryside are lovely this time of year."
Jingyi recognized the irony in the caller's response, which had addressed him by his cover, and not as a rapporteur for the executive council, as he actually was. The voice was Qian Ling, his handler in the Ministry of State and Public Security, inquiring from Neo-Manila.
"Well, it's colder than New Palembang," retorted Jingyi. He shivered as a cool Capilean breeze flew down his spine. He motioned to close his coat, increasing its grip on Jingyi's body, thus increasing too, its thickness.
"Your feet wet?", asked the caller. The frozen climate of Saatland in September typically caused thin sheets of ice to form, beneath which were, nominally, a wet surface.
"Not yet.", responded Jingyi. He smiled at the newly-polished gleam of his boots.
A taxi noticed the gestures of the tall Chinese man. The ruggedly-dressed, Caucasian-Saatlander driver picked-up Jingyi. Upon being asked where to be taken, Jingyi replied it was to be at a well-known restaurant at the Capilean countryside, near the river situated North of Ludislau, just outside Kongsburg. He wanted to get as far near the border as he could, while not making his intentions obvious to the driver. A nonchalant shrug, one that Jingyi had been hoping for, preceded the driver stepping on the gas with full force. There wasn't much traffic on the way there.
Riding by the sites of the countryside and listening to the ramblings of his driver, the Pan-Asiatic agent would soon realize that the once revered and majestic country of Nova Capile was now an utter warzone, many of its sights had turn to disrepair, and all the grandeur that it had displayed regarding the superiority of its culture, monarchy, and heritage was now in disarray. The mighty, once-united Grand Duchy was, just as it was common for any human civilization, now hounded by ideological fanatics. The Capilean aristocracy was being slaughtered just as any man could be slaughtered. The war seemed to bring Nova Capile down to Earth. Jingyi had to keep his guard up, because everyone else already had.
When Jingyi got-off after tipping his driver a rather heavy sum, it was around two in the afternoon. After the car he had taken had disappeared into the nearby horizon, he set foot to meet General-Secretary Terry Blücher and the Socialist Union on behalf of the Pan-Asiatic cause. He marched South of the Kongs Mountains, trailing Northward to where locals had foretold of the legendary Communist base. He hid in his luggage his credentials to testify that he was a member of the Asian Communist Party.
