New Jerusalem
The New Jerusalem Council of Ministers was the Exarchate of New Jerusalem’s single chamber legislature, by which the Exarchate’s provincial government was formed. For the last eight years, it had sat in a temporary home in a hotel convention centre, while its crumbling 17th century Council House had undergone urgent renovations and repairs. Now ready to be reopened, restored to better condition than it had been for centuries and refitted with all the modern amenities which could be installed without changing the historic character of the structure, the pale stonework of Council House nearly sparkled in the sun, the first time it had been close to its original colour since the Industrial Revolution. The hundred ministers (the Council’s members), their guests, and members of the press were gathered in seats in the courtyard in front of Council House in the pleasant late-Spring weather.
Out of view in the gardens, the official party which would soon open the Council House readied itself while staff fussed about and minded the time. The Eparchos, the head of the provincial government, Petros Jihep, the Council Minority Leader, Philip Markos, and the elderly Exarch of New Jerusalem, Augustulus Comnenus, were joined by the Imperial Chancellor, the nearly as elderly Sir Isaac Comnenus, and the Leader of the Opposition, the comparatively young Agnes Pagonis, as representatives of the national government. They had just been briefed where the cameras would be, and were told to be ready to start down the red carpet towards the stage on a signal which would shortly be forthcoming.
“You look lovely today, madame.” Sir Isaac told the Opposition Leader, in an almost grandfatherly tone. He spoke French, although everyone in the group was bi-lingual and today’s proceedings would be in Greek.
“Thank you, Chancellor.” Pagonis replied as graciously as she could. She always found the way the Chancellor talked to her in private (well, away from journalists at least) strangely unsettling with its banal pleasantries. She tried to make it businesslike at least. “So, Philip mentioned to me that they originally wanted to have all the local and national party leaders in the opening ceremony, but that when your office told him that by protocol only the Imperial Chancellor and Leader of the Opposition should attend, they had to cut things down to just the Eparchos and the Minority Leader on the local side.”

“Protocol.” Sir Isaac shrugged.
“And it means Prince Constantine couldn’t attend.” Pagonis said, smiling wryly.
Sir Isaac Comnenus looked down at Pagonis for a long second or two before gradually breaking into a wry smile of his own, which spread across a face wrinkled by decades of scowling more than smiling.
“Clever girl.” the Imperial Chancellor said, turning forward again.
Pagonis allowed herself a bemused chuckle. In truth, the polled popularity of Prince Constantine and the Christian Democrats as an alternative to both Sir Isaac’s United Christian Front and her Socialist Alliance made the prince nearly as politically harmful to her as to the Imperial Chancellor. Although she and the Chancellor were political adversaries, they still had a mutual enemy.
“You shouldn’t call me that.” Pagonis chided lightly.
“What, clever?” Sir Isaac replied. “I shan’t do it on the campaign trail, don’t worry.”
“No…” Pagonis started but was interrupted by the event management staff giving the signal that the official party was to make its entrance.
“I’m an old man, indulge me.” Sir Isaac said just above a whisper as they started moving, ever so slowly at the pace set by the ancient Exarch.
“Will you say that on the campaign trail?” Pagonis asked him, quietly.
“Perhaps it will be the slogan.” Sir Isaac responded.
“I know better than to ask when the election will be.” Pagonis whispered back as they turned around a garden hedge towards the waiting guests.
Soon enough. Sir Isaac thought, not wanting to continue the private conversation in front of an audience.
When the official party reached the Council House steps, a soldier in dress uniform came forward to the side of the Exarch of New Jerusalem. The soldier helped the doddering old man up the steps with the rest of the official party on his heels.
At least I can still walk unaided. Sir Isaac thought to himself, looking to the Exarch. His gaze passed from him back to Agnes Pagonis by his side. The Opposition Leader was slightly less than half his age, as several of his confidants had “helpfully” pointed out. And this old wolf can still dispatch you easily enough, little lamb, if Prince Constantine stays out of the way.
The representation of the Christian Democrats in the present Parliament was limited - just 28 MPs, all of whom had broken away from the United Christian Front when Prince Constantine had left the party. But that number wasn’t representative of their polling support - the Christian Democrats were a definitive “third force” in the pending election. Taking fairly centrist positions and probably better appealing to Pantocratorian social and religious sensibilities than either the Socialist Alliance or the government’s junior coalition partner, the Party for National Action, the party was a viable threat to both the Government and Opposition in hundreds of seats across Pantocratoria. Sir Isaac could easily imagine the Socialists ditching their traditional rural allies, the Constantinople Party, and forming a coalition with the Christian Democrats if the worst of the potential polls for the Government came true. But if Prince Constantine was a potential partner for Mme Pagonis after the election, he was a deadly threat to her during the election, Sir Isaac knew. Leaked Socialist Alliance polling suggested a small but appreciable chance that the Christian Democrats could overtake Socialist representation in the next Parliament.
And you, my dear, want to be the bride, not the bridesmaid. Sir Isaac concluded, his gaze lingering on the Opposition Leader for a few moments before he stared ahead again as was generally best to do when cameras were pointing at one.
Why does he always look at me like that? Pagonis thought for herself as she pretended not to notice. At least when the election is over, one way or another, so will be these awkward events together.









