Dies iræ ! dies illa
Solvet sæclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla !
Solvet sæclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla !
Day of wrath! O day of mourning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning,
Heaven and earth in ashes burning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning,
Heaven and earth in ashes burning!
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I was ten when the revolution happened, a young and naïve child, delightfully unaware of anything. Politics and Society were existences alien to me and now that I reflect, I should have valued my childhood more and the sanctity that a lack of knowledge and intelligence brought. There is no real date I can pin down, or event I can truly remember, everything the chaos, the turmoil has melted into one, heated furious memory that changed my life forever. Irreparably. Fundamentally. Now, as I age I feel that I must tell my story, but what is a story? Do my experiences of that fateful December even count as a story? When I was younger, stories like all things were simple, a beginning would start an escalation, a build of tensions, the middle would bring about drama, moral and physical destitution, evil would prevail whilst all facets of goodness were crushed under heal, seemingly destroyed. Slowly, the world that was once so good, would turn into a cold, dark and bleak wasteland but, there would be one, strong and great figure who would, like the savior himself bring good and morality back to the world, and the halcyon days where golden sunlight streamed down upon all men would return. The revolutions story was different, new, with no ending, today it fuels Hardenburgh in every way; the good and evil prevailed entwining with each other and forging the future of a nation.
Today, I sit at my desk looking out of my window over the bleak scenery of the Hapsburgh peninsula that stretches before me. A grey expanse of sea stretches out before my window seabirds circle above, occasionally diving below, down, past the cliffs searching for fish. The window frames of my house rattle as the strong wind batters away at them. I am alone here, isolated, the nearest outposts, where human civilization resides are far away. First in small enclaves, then villages, towns and cities begin to grow back. I appreciate my isolation relish it even. Since the death of my wife and children I have had no desire to immerse myself in the hardship and pressures of the society that stole them from me. The revolution changed Hardenburgh; it created a hardened, cold society that I am no longer compatible with. As, slowly and silently, with solemn and dignified step I walk into the twilight of my life, I am glad of it, death isn’t such a bad thing, not the cold darkness I envisaged as a child, rather a warm, comforting conclusion to a life that has been lived. I am an old man now, and ready to be led by the hand into the darkness beyond but before I embark on the eternal path, I must tell my story, if it can be called that.
The December of two thousand and ten was the most significant December for Hardenburgh. The nation was already in a state of political turmoil, I can remember the election of the Social Democratic Party vaguely, Prime Minister Barnabus Perkins, now enshrined as one of the tyrants Hardenburghian history walking up the steps of the Prime Ministers residence, promising change – god! Didn’t he bring about change! Now, when I look back on those events, I realise they had much wider implications. For hundreds of years, Hardenburgh had lived, breathed and functioned on Conservatism; it was only the widespread dissatisfaction with the Saxery administration that brought about the election of the Social Democrats. People wanted change, however, change is a very ambiguous term, something that nobody truly understands. The Social Democrats promised it, I don’t think they even understood the extents of what they proposed. Even Barnabus Perkins, despite all his noble values he couldn’t have imagined the extent of change that he brought about in his few years as prime minister. His death was untimely, his diet of reform stopped dead in its tracks but, it was necessary, essential to continue the revolution. The glorious revolution.
The sun has begun to set, casting impressive shades of red and crimson over the horizon, I must start to write now. My contribution to the memory of the revolution will be a humble one seen through the eyes of a ten year old. Still, it is a story that must be told. Whether the memories are mine, or those of others, which I have eternalized I do not know, I will never know. However, when an event is as significant as the Hardenburghian revolution happens, when everything known, trusted and established is thrown into the air, and falls back to earth shattering into small pieces memories are torn up and scattered in the wind, nobody can lay claim to them. In this new, brave age memories are all we have, reminders of a better, kinder and nicer age. I will attempt to tell this story without bias, without untruth. However this is the story of a nation and a people, so I cannot assure you that I will stick to these promises. After all, what is history? The interpretation and writings of people. The fire that was lit in the December of two thousand and ten never went out, it burns as angrily and as furiously as ever, but now, I must write and set on paper the course of the Glorious Revolution.
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I.Nocturne
30th of November 2010.
Louis Mountbatten stood on the verandah of his house, a cigarette held between his index and middle fingers, staring into the murky darkness of the night. He was glad that he had been able to leave the affairs of parliament behind this weekend and return to the countryside, his haven. An unusually hot September had given way to a cold October, Louis shivered. The week that he had departed on leaving Asguard had been a stressful one, with the social democratic party becoming even more audacious in its conduct and policy making, the Hardenburghian establishment had become worried. The door leading out onto the verandah opened, and, clad in a white dressing gown, his wife Caitlin, obviously disturbed from her sleep stepped out into the cool night. He smiled at her and offered her a cigarette, she accepted. The couple stood there, relishing the silence that existed between them both. Eventually, she ventured to speak;
“Something is perturbing you darling … I can see it” she said, exhaling, a cloud of smoke drifting up and away into the nighttime sky. Louis nodded
“Sometimes, you are the only person I have to speak to dear” he said pausing for a breath “I had a very strange encounter today, I didn’t know what to make of it … still don’t”
“Well, perhaps you can tell me … it seems to have effected you significantly” Louis nodded. For the first time, in his long service as an MP he was truly at a loss, such were the events that had
taken place he was truly at a loss. He cleared his throat;
“Today, I met Lord Blackwood over lunch”
“That old tosser” Caitlin enquired “I thought he was banned for entering parliament for a year after the ServCom controversy”
“Appears not … anyway, he cornered me in the dining hall and well … put to me a rather interesting proposal”
“Which was?” Caitlin enquired
“Well, it seems … within the more traditionalist wings of the conservative party want to get rid of all things left winged in Hardenburgh, they have significant support from the military as well … I’m confused, very, very confused Caitlin”
The silence of the night fell between them. Once again they stood in silence together. Somewhere, in the distance they heard a car travelling along the main road, shattering the peace of the country night. An unwanted intrusion, an incursion into their tranquility. Gathering herself, Caitlin responded
“A coup?” she asked, surprised notable on her voice
“If you want to put it that way … it seems that they have significant support from the military however, they want to move against everything … everything they see as a threat to Hardenburghian society. Although the outset is inherently anti-democratic, I was led to sympathize with his sentiment. With the policy, the reckless policy being followed by the current government our nation is going to be driven to ruination … I mean for gods sake! The unions are dictating fiscal policy and alliances are being discussed with bloody Sharfghotten!” Louis took several deep breaths and then sat in one of the wicker chairs breathing heavily “The time we first met, I knew it was a fundamental turning point in my life … this is as well, Lord Blackwood called a meeting tomorrow night, in his country estate”
“Darling, that’s a three hour drive away” Caitlin exclaimed, “Surely you have more sense that to entertain some over bloated and scorned aristocrats fantasy which, I grant you will be taken as treason by the central government. You know what that charge brings” Louis nodded solemnly
“Perkins will be executing the entire conservative party then, this is a lot wider spread than you think it is. We are going to change Hardenburgh, were going to change Hardenburgh for the better. I mean that.” He paused, allowing the effect of his words to sink in, then continued “I am going to attend dear, I want to help forge Hardenburgh’s future, not allow our nations annihilation in the hands of reckless leftists”
The couple stood in silence, contemplating their futures. Then, placing his arm around his wife’s shoulders he drew her close and, after stubbing his cigarette out and dropping the smoldering remains into the garden below, the couple walked into the dark folds of their house, the lights had already been turned off. As they made their way up the stairs they passed the rooms of their children, and looked in on their sleeping forms. Something had to be done, to save Hardenburgh for them. Louis smiled fondly at them; he was now a man with a loaded and darkened conscience. The deeds that lay ahead of him were cruel and possibly bloody, they would test his morality and values to the very limits, however, at the end of them lay the chance of a reformed an bettered Hardenburgh, his sole hope and ideal.
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I was awoken by footsteps and voices that night. Even by my families standards this was rare. My father seldom sacrificed his sleep the sole factor, he believed that maintained his sanity. However, as I heard his heavy footsteps progress down the staircase from the bedroom an ominous and looming feeling overcame me, I suddenly felt cold. There was something not right. I turned over in bed, trying to ignore the on goings but by now the hushed voices seamed to be screaming out loud, pummeling my ears with their deafening noise. The grandfather clock on the staircase chimed midnight and now, I was awake. Unable to restrain my curiosity, slowly and cautiously, worried of being heard I tiptoed out of my bedroom and down the red-carpeted stairs. Daddy was in his office, the door had been left ajar and a thin beam of light filtered out onto the landing. I stopped.
I held my breath, everything seemed wrong about the situation and I knew for definite that I was not welcome here. Low, male voices filtered out of the office onto the landing, unaware of the pair of prying ears that stood outside. I could hear Henrich Vanderbaum, a man that I had never liked, I was convinced that he didn’t like me; regularly he would shoot me cold looks whenever I disturbed my fathers work. I tiptoed closer to the door, my breath increasingly heavy then stopped. A loose floorboard creaked beneath my foot, I stopped, and time crept to a halt the fear of being caught now gripped me, but gripped by the voices that spilled out of the room with the beam of light I could not tear myself away;
“I am telling you everything will be fine, for gods sakes! The conservatives always have had their own, crude agendas, I tell you what? They have been bloody unsuccessful that’s why we lead the opinion polls and won the bloody election” I heard my father sigh, and his chair creak as he leant forwards
“Henrich, I wish I could share you’re optimism. You know as well as I do, the conservative party is still extremely powerful. Our electoral victory was marginal as it is, and throughout Hapsburgh and Bohemia they are regaining popularity quicker than our strategists thought possible” My father paused, and I heard him coughing “The fact is simple, we are going to have to do something, within the democratic confines of the constitution or were in trouble. Lord Blackwood has returned to Parliament”
I heard Vanderbaum snort in contempt
“You are kidding me right”
“I wish I was … the fact he had the confidence to enter, just shows something is going on, and the Conservatives are becoming a unified front … the opposite to what they were perhaps six months ago”
Silence once again. I looked at the face of the grandfather clock that stood tall and imposing on the landing. It was the middle nearly one o’clock, the time when all humanity had retreated to the depths of their abodes, leaving the world deserted, a playground for the forces of time. I listened to the conversation some more, but feeling tired I made my way upstairs to my bedroom. I knew something was wrong, but at my young age I couldn’t understand or grasp onto it. With a dissatisfied feeling clutching onto me, refusing to let go, dominating my conscience and thought I drew back the covers of my bed and climbed back in. As I drifted off to sleep I found myself wondering who the conservatives really were, and what they stood for. Daddy and mummy didn’t like them.
As I lay in my bed falling asleep, I like all others was completely aware of what the Hardenburghian state now tottered precariously on the verge of. As a ten year old, the affairs of state that my parents were burdened with didn’t worry me, I was free to fear the most small and insignificant things. If only my father was aware of the events that leered menacingly from around the corner, then perhaps, he could have saved Hardenburgh from the state of moral disarray that it fell into. Nations and Empires are created by the acts and deeds of people, in that process becoming the embodiment, the child and the product of those who created them. The deeds and actions of the architects of the Hardenburghian revolution recreated the nation in their image. Their intentions and ideals were seen as noble, the methods and measures they resorted to were not. Today Hardenburgh is neither good nor evil, rather a strange, undefined, immeasurable substance that sits on the scale somewhere in the middle of the scale between the two extremes. Indefinable, immeasurable, unlovable. That is Hardenburgh.
_______________________________
II. The Beatitudes
31st of November 2010.
The narrative of John Lavonse
I have been a trade unionist for as long as I can remember. Like my father, I began in the steel mills of Cmust, among the tall structures, the fire and the glowing molten metal, I discovered Socialism. Slowly, as I matured, I realised the vast injustices inherent in Hardenburghian society, I became determined to destroy them and, through sheer hard work I fought my way through the unions. I led the strikes against the Saxery administration and helped bring around the minimum wage legislation. My father told me never to be humble about one’s achievements and, therefore, I am not. The election of the Social Democrats was one of the greatest achievements for the workers, for once the Chauvinistic and imperialistic diet of conservatism that Hardenburgh had survived on was destroyed. Pleasingly, the policy pushed through by the new government had done much to anger the conservative party.
Today I would travel to Asguard, leaving my family in Cmust. The Annual Pan-Trade union congress assembled on the 1st of December. Everyone was well aware something significant was afoot, the stage that the discourse of Hardenburghian politics was enacted on felt uneasy. Placing a final shirt into my suitcase, I closed the lid and exhaled. I walked through to the bathroom where I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I felt nervous, but I simply couldn’t explain why. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and I could hear the younger of my two daughters stirring in bed. Travelling to Asguard from Cmust was a long and trying journey, I hoped that I would reach the outskirts of the city the following morning. Since the Social Democrats had come to power, the Trade Unions position on the political spectrum had changed. The government saw us as partners, not adversaries we helped them to advance the economy alongside workers rights.
I splashed water onto my face, attempting to wake myself up. My tired eyes were no good for the road. The agenda for this conference was a radical one, the Conservatives were aware of it, and their response had been delightful to say the very least. The government, supported by the energy workers union had put forth plans to dismantle all energy monopolies held by the private sector, giving the resources that were rightfully the property of the people, back to the people. It would be an enjoyable few days this conference, as we opened up a new line of offensive against the Conservative establishment. The Health workers union too was etching in on its share of controversy, with plans to dismantle all remaining private health care institutions. I smiled; this would be a good few days. Barnabus Perkins was attending all days but one of the conference. It showed the upper classes where the government was now! After walking back into the bedroom and kissing my sleeping wife goodbye, I picked up my suitcase and made my way down the stairs. At the door, I took my coat off the hangar and then made my way out to the car, the coolness of the early morning air making me shiver.
As I began my journey to Asguard, I had no idea of what I was driving into, or, what would happen to me in the turmoil that was due to ensue. Smiling, I guided my car out of the driveway and onto the open road, humming along to the notes of a Mozart piano concerto that tinkled out over the radio. To Asguard, I went.
_______________________________
Louis Mountbatten reached the home of Lord Blackwood after a drive longer than that his wife had predicted. Bleak House was an impressive building, situated in the bleak and mountainous scenery of Hiedenburgh, an area that Louis regarded as one of the most beautiful parts of Hardenburgh, it was a shame his constituency resided on the very edges of it. Great mountains rose up, their snow capped peaks piercing through the sky. It was understandable why Lord Black had chosen to meet here, Hiedenburgh was strictly out of Social Democratic territory, here they were safe to discuss their plans. Louis’ Jaguar XK 150 swept through the open gates of bleak house and up the wooded driveway. The grounds of the manor were impressive, beautiful when in full bloom during the summer months. On reaching the entrance of the house, he was surprised to see that the driveway was full of cars. It was evident many individuals had attached much importance to this meeting.
Bringing his car to a halt, Louis climbed out, pulling his coat around him to fight the cold. He hurried across the driveway, skirting in between the rows of parked vehicles. On reaching the large doorway of the house, he was met by one of Lord Backwoods servants; a tall, thin black haired man who took his coat and hat and led him inside. To his surprise, the gathering was warming and welcoming rather than the cold, austere reception that he had prepared himself to expect. The ballroom of the house was populated by a large, mainly male population of peers, MPs as well as military generals and powerful civil servants, sipping champagne, wines and whisky out of glasses exchanging pleasantries with each other. Straightening himself, Louis joined the crowed, helping himself to a glass of champagne. Lord Blackwood had obviously opted for his idea of a casual, informal gathering. So casual, and so informal that it would determine the future of the Grand Duchy.
Eventually, Lord Blackwood walked up to a raised platform in the ballroom, tapped his glass with a spoon and cleared his throat. The voices in the hall silenced themselves one by one and when silence had settled over the room, Blackwood began to speak
“Good day friends, I have called you here today for the most patriotic and noble of purposes. As you are well aware, our nation totters on the verge of social collapse due to the irresponsible actions of leftists and reformists. This must not be, this cannot persist. It is why; upon this day I have gathered you together. Men of Hardenburgh and proud patriots. We must stop the tyranny of the current government in its tracks, and bring back order to Hardenburgh.
We the conservative party are the bastion of democracy freedom in this great nation, not the left. Their socialist policies not only will eventually weaken the economy and ultimately work to break down the old and great order that Hardenburgh built its empire upon. But friends, I brought you here today to save Hardenburgh. What you are about to hear from me, is not a desperate plea for support, it is a plan of action that, as we speak is being enacted upon and is supported by all significant sections of society.
I will hold you in suspense no longer and reveal all: I intend to destroy socialism in Hardenburgh. Not only to destroy it, but eliminate it and wipe it off the political spectrum for good. Tomorrow morning, units of the Hardenburghian army will begin to advance on the capital to remove the Social Democratic Party from power. When they have been dealt with, the Defense of the Realm act will be enacted, and the constitution suspended under its legislation, we will then have a free hand to reform Hardenburgh to a state we, the Hardenburghian conservative party see appropriate.
Friends, brothers and fellow Hardenburghians, I ask that in this difficult and trying time you support the actions of the conservative party and army, they are for the greater good, and will restore glory to our nation. Thank you.”
Applause ricocheted around the room as those present hailed in actions that for once they agreed with. Louis found himself applauding Lord Blackwood, despite all the man’s floors, had the right intentions for Hardenburgh. Hopefully, tomorrow when his plans were pitched into action the salvation of the Hardenburghian state would begin, as it lifted away from the clutch of socialism. The drinking and conversation continued for a while, and feeling uneasy, Louis quietly departed the reception and made his way towards his car, wanting to return home more than anything else.
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III.Revenge
1st of December, 2010.
The account of Martha Smythe,
Schoolgirl 16, Asguard
I left home early that morning so that I could go into school and search for project books that I was convinced I’d mislaid in the art department. It was around six o’clock when I exited the apartment block in which I lived with my parents. My school was an hour’s journey away and as I exited the entrance hall of the block I was met by a gush of cold air; Hardenburghian winters were always bitterly cold. Buttoning up my coat, I walked along the street the sun hadn’t risen yet, and the street lamps were still lit, casting their amber pools of light down onto the pavements below. I reached the bus stop and rummaged around in my bag for my MP3 player, and after plugging the headphones into my ears I closed my eyes and waited for the familiar rumble of the busses engine. The school term was coming to its conclusion and I eagerly awaited the Christmas break. I was tired, worn down and desperately needed a period in which I could let go of all pressures.
Finally, the bus arrived, the hydraulic pistons hissing as its doors opened. I handed the driver my change and then slumped onto one of the seats. I’d got up too early. Closing my eyes I immersed myself in the music playing out of my headphones. Of late, I hadn’t enjoyed school Katie Redgrove and her group of friends had made my life hell, bullying me for every aspect of my existence. The fact that my parents were members of the communist party definitely didn’t help, I was looked upon as some kind of lowly piece of dirt. Their attitude was reflected by the entirety of the conservative party, although during the time Peter Saxery was in power I was largely disconcerted with politics, I was aware that the working class was belittled and shoved into servitude, bullied by the upper classes. It was ironic how the treatment from teachers and fellow peers replicated this. The election of Barnabus Perkins was a victory for us all, a good and kind man, he had brought compassion to governance and did away with the cold brutal form of conservatism that had administered Hardenburgh for centuries.
I was torn out of my slumber by gasps of surprise from other passengers. I shot bolt upright and looked about me. We were now in central Asguard and the bus had come to a halt. Staring out of the window I realised the tanks, and soldiers were lining the streets fully armed. I looked at a passenger near me, a man aged about sixty
“What’s going on?” I enquired
“Fuck knows … looks like the army lads have got a bit excited”
A soldier stepped onto the bus, dressed in full combat uniform stepped onto the bus, I found myself feeling on edge, and I like everybody else didn’t know what was going on. After clearing his throat he spoke in a strong, clear and demanding tone
“A state of emergency has been declared by the National Security Council and central areas to Asguard have been closed off. If you must get to you’re intended destinations, please continue on foot if it is not essential that you complete your journey, please could you return home and await further announcements which will be broadcast on all radio and television stations”
The bus doors hissed open, I stood up out of my seat and gathered my bags and then exited the vehicle. I began to walk at a brisk pace along the road; I could make my school in about thirty-five minutes from here at a good pace. It seemed as if the whole army had deployed into Asguard, throwing cursory glances back at various military vehicles that blocked the streets. Something non-too nice was going on, I for one didn’t want to have any part in it.
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The narrative of John Lavonse
After spending a night in a small motorway side hotel, I resumed by journey early in the morning. I was determined to get into Asguard before the rush hour started, during which getting around the city would be a virtual impossibility. I had lived in Asguard for ten years, before moving to Cmust, and in that time I had become used to the way of life. My bargaining paid off, by eight o’clock I was speeding down the freeway towards Asguard with plenty of time to spare. As I clutched my steering wheel and focused on the road ahead of me, the scenery passing by me quickly, I noticed a column of armored vehicles, tanks I realised upon a second look making their way down the freeway. I was now directly behind a column of around twenty Sh-315 main battle tanks steadily progressing down the highway. I swerved out from behind them as I was travelling faster and then sped alongside, trying to catch a glimpse at whatever was going on.
Moderately amused, I chuckled to myself speculating that the Army boy’s had taken a wrong turn on exercises. I overtook the column of vehicles and continued my journey. On glancing at a road sign directly in front of me, I realised that I was less than thirty miles away from Asguard. That armored unit was pretty bloody close. I was shocked to see another convoy of army vehicles troop transports I assumed progressing up the freeway. Something was going on, this was anything but normal. I turned on the radio, and tuned into Asguard’s local station hoping that there would be some kind of explanation for this. I found myself worrying that the capital had fallen victim to some kind of attack. The normal, morning programs crackled out of the speakers. Then, suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a monotone noise sounded, and the chat show was brought to a sudden halt. I swallowed; worried at what was going on, now I knew, something was definitely not right. After perhaps two minutes of silence from the radio an emotionless, expressionless flat voice spoke forth
“Please standby for a public safety broadcast. Do not turn your radio sets or televisions off. Please Standby for a public safety broadcast. Do not turn your radio sets or televisions off”
I froze, terrified. Something was seriously wrong. I tried to focus on keeping the car in a straight line but it became increasingly hard. My hands began to shake, and a cold feeling crept down my spine. Something was wrong. Minutes stretched into hours as I awaited the announcement. Finally, in a sinister manner the radio set crackled back into life.
“As of 6.00 am this morning the Prime Minister of the Grand Duchy of Hardenburgh, Barnabus Perkins resigned from office for reasons of ill health. In accordance with the wishes of Mr. Perkins an emergency session of the Hardenburghian Security Council was called, in which, as his last act as Prime Minister, he handed over control of Hardenburgh to the Honorable Lord Blackwood. To ensure a safe and secure transition of power, Lord Blackwood has enacted the Defense of the Realm act. Of present there is no more information, however the Security council has advised that all people remain vigilant and stay close to a radio set or television. Further information will be conveyed promptly”
With that the chat show resumed, but now I was gripped with fear. It was clear what this was, Barnabus Perkins health was fine, and in fact I had spoken to the man a few weeks ago on a trip to Cmust. With Lord Blackwood’s seizure to power it was obvious that this was a coup engineered by the military and establishment to defend the status quo in Hardenburgh. I was still determined to reach Asguard, the Trade Unions Congress would, must go ahead, it was evident now, that we would be the only valid and strong front of opposition against the government, if it could be called that and god! We’d fill that role.
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And there it started, the Glorious revolution, or so the historians that wrote against the Social Democratic party called it. My memories of those early days are hazed to say the very least; I cannot separate truth from untruth. All I know is that a feeling of terror gripped Hardenburgh as Conservatism pummeled Hardenburgh with all the might of its ideological force. This is a story that must be told, the story of a people, the story of a people’s plight. It is late now, and I must put my pen down, and go to bed. The cold night air has crept into my study, and the fire burns low. Tomorrow, I shall continue to tell the story of the Glorious Revolution. Goodnight.
