Rhodevus: Forever Free [Nation Maintenance] [CLOSED]

[Rhodevus]

Choice
2006

Benner was laying in bed, as he was wont to do most hours of the day. The windows to his room were wide open, and yet despite the sunlight, he felt a darkness creeping around him.

A television set sat above his dresser. One of the old one which still used cathode rays and antennas, and flickered when the weather turned for the worse. Both of his children had long since given up the fight of getting him to switch to the increasingly common LED televisions, but he still thoroughly enjoyed the aesthetic that the older tube TVs provided. The screen was flickering despite the pleasant weather, and showed a view of a news reporter standing in front of a plane bound for Eubatu.

The low hum of the television completely engulfed the sounds of the news broadcast, not that Benner minded much. He was only watching for one reason.

His daughter entered the camera’s view, and she smiled and shook hands with the reporter. Her suit-skirt combination had become an iconic look for her, and a trend among women around the country.

The reporter and his daughter chatted pleasantly. He was only faintly able to make out some words they shared between them.

“First.”

“Princess.”

“Incredible.”

“Humanitarian.”

It was all generic content for a generic news show. His daughter Diana was spending two months in Eubatu on a humanitarian aid mission, following a 4.6 Earthquake in the country. As Rhodevus’s Head Ambassador, Diana had convinced the Minister of International Relations that this trip would be a great opportunity to improve the bonds between the nations in a way that only she could.

Benner made a mental note to remind himself to apologize to Anthony for his daughter. Diana had her mother’s way with words and his persuasive ability. Separate, they were powerful oratory abilities that gave each of them their particular shine. Together?

Diana became a real force to be reckoned with, able to out-talk anyone in three languages and counting.

Benner sighed, curling up tighter in his bed.

His daughter had taken a long time to find her calling. Her time in the diplomacy route of her military service was fraught with write-ups, firings, and shuffling her around to various posts. It was a hard job, to train and command a princess as stubborn as she was. Not many were up to the task. It was only in her final months of service did Benner’s Head Ambassador take a shine to her and had her following him around on his duties.

When Benner’s cabinet was reshuffled, Head Ambassador Anthony quickly became Minister of International Relations Anthony. Diana graduated from her service with a new outlook on life. He remembered when the young woman stomped into his office and declared, “I’m going to be Head Ambassador before I turn 30.”

She did. She really did.

Graduating with math and physics degrees because that was her interest, she finished her schooling with high marks while also handling her many side projects and duties required of her as Heire Héréditaire.

Benner turned to look at his nightstand. Aside from a picture of his wife, and another of his son, there was a picture of Diana. She was surrounded by children, all standing in front of the school she helped finance and build. She called it her proudest achievement at the time.

Benner never had the heart to tell her that the country the school was built in named the building after her. She would hate that.

But there she was, Head Ambassador for the last year, and doing quite well at it.

He would miss her while she was off saving the world once more.

It was why he was planning to name her his heir. Not just the hereditary position as his child, but the official heir of the nation.

It was either her or her brother, in truth.

His reign was a long and altogether successful one, but if there was one thing which marred his otherwise accomplished legacy, it was that of his choices for heir.

His first heir had been Prince Andrew. Eight years his senior, but an accomplished politician, bureaucrat, and financier. Andrew had breezed through the heir selection process faster than anyone at the time, and made a name for himself with some big moves to curb the power of banks over low income earners. Andre had died in 1992. Twelve dutiful and incredible years of service and comradery, ended by a nasty case of pneumonia. It was awful to think that Andrew was his longest living successor.

Prince Betumbu was a difficult choice. Not the first first-generation Rhodeve to be chosen as heir, but the first to not also be from a former Rhodeve colony or territory. Betumbu was a close friend of his, and was an excellent soldier during his many years of service. He was heir of four years before his death in 1997. A successful assassination during the decade of spies, espionage and assassins. He missed Betumbu.

Princess Clia was next. Only an heir for a single day before being struck by a pedestrian on the street. She died of her injuries on the way to the hospital, just as the news was reporting on her acceptance of her role as princess heir.

Prince Evan last three months. Princess Rhea nearly an entire year. After that, he refused to name an official successor. He had gone almost six years now without anyone to succeed him. Sure, the heir candidate list was continuously updated and the interviews remained ongoing, but he always feared of another death. Another assassination. Someone else losing their life to the position of King Benner’s heir.

And then there were only two names left. Two choices to decide between after all others failed or declined the officially unofficial position. His eldest child Diana, and his second child James. Those were the only two left whom did not care that they handled the responsibilities of heir, without being given the official title.

That also meant that either one of them could be struck down by Lady Luck should they receive the position.

And then he found out he was dying.

The doctors still weren’t sure what was going on with him. He was only 52. Still plenty young to continue his duties. Whatever it was, was spreading and spreading fast. He spent more hours in the day in his bed than at his desk. It was something they were hiding from the public, but he knew it could not last much longer.

That was why he ha to make a choice. Diana or James. One of them would be monarch soon.

He chose Diana. His eldest. His girl. Truthfully, Benner had simply realized that he did not want another soldier in charge of the country. Rhodevus needed a politician who knew their way around the senate, and the nations of the world. Diplomacy was the way of the future, and that future would be strong with Diana.

Benner would name her heir as soon as she returned from Eubatu.

Yes, as soon as she returned.

He patted the folded letter that he always kept on his person, clutching it to his chest.

He would be glad to see his daughter once more.

[Rhodevus]

The Great
Kingstown, 2001

Benner rubbed his forehead. He sat behind his desk, with his minister of the interior and the entire department of housing standing across from him.

Seated at his desk in front of him was Richard McCumber and Paul DuChain. They owned a small private equity fund of about 115 million Rhodes, more than 50 times smaller than the biggest private equity funds in Rhodevus.

“So, tell me what you told me again.”

“Again?”

“Again,” the king repeated, for the third time.

Paul glanced at Richard and shifted in his seat. A bead of sweat curled down his forehead and wrapped around his ear. He patted the pile of papers in front of him, shuffling the ones that were scattered across the king’s desk into a more manageable heap.

“Well, erm, your majesty-”

The king rolled his eyes and sat back in his own seat, beckoning for him to continue without the titles.

“The current mortgage market is worth 645 billion dollars, about half of that is locked away in paid mortgages. Triple A class, we call them. Best of the best. It means the payers are paying consistently month of month, year over year. These are what the backbone of the mortgage system is based on. It’s why all of this works.”

Paul glanced at Richard once more, as he moved to find the right graph to match what Paul was saying.

“The rest are lower rated mortgages. Double A, Single A, Triple B, Double B, Single B, all the way down to C. C’s are the mortgages where the banks are not going to get their money back. Foreclosures are the most likely. The system has worked since the 70’s. Big money, that’s constantly growing. People buy these mortgages and debts as bonds and packages of bonds. Provincial governments and the federal government back these bonds. When the housing market is good, as it had been, the government makes money, the banks make money, and private equity and hedge funds make -excuse my language- a shit ton of money.”

“About a trillion dollars in market value across the country,” Richard interrupted.

Benner glanced at his minister and housing department.

“And if housing goes down?”

The two managers looked at each other once more. Their gazes holding a little longer.

“A bleed.”

“A bleed?”

“Then a crash. Entire markets wiped out as everything is backed on mortgages and housing.”

Benner breathed deep, longing breath. He would much rather be talking with his wife and his children. James was doing well in his military service. Diana had just started her first year of university and was loving it.

Benner was not loving this.

“So, what is happening?”

“People. Erm, people like us, are betting against the system.”

“It’s called shorting the system. Hedge funds bet that the system is going to collapse. If it doesn’t, they lose money. 10, 20, 40 million a year. If the system does? They win hundreds of millions, if not billions.”

“And the system collapses,” Benner replied.

“And the system collapses,” Paul replied.

“So, what happens?”

“Millions homeless. Half the hedge funds close. Half the banks go under and every investment related to that goes down with it. Hundreds of thousands of jobs disappear in an afternoon.”

Benner leaned forward at his desk. His heart was hurting.

“And you came to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if we don’t, then the country is going to be hit by the biggest recession it has ever had. It will make the Great Recession in the 20s look like a hiccup.”

Benner looked between the two managers in front of him.

The room filled with dozens of people was eerily silent.

“Fuck.”

“Can we don anything about it?”

Richard snorted. “Not unless you buy the entire housing market yourself and stabilize it all. You would need billions upon billions to do that.”

“What… if I did that in Kingstown.”

“Kingstown?”

“All of Kingstown. Every single house, hovel, condo, and everything in between.”

Paul and Richard looked at each other, then muttered something between one another. Numbers and terms that Benner could not understand. He was a
military man. Sure, he had worked as a politician since his succession to the throne in 1980, but most of it made no sense to him. It was all fake. Fraud.

Numbers that built on numbers that built on numbers.

“Or you can bailout the banks.” His minister added, talking for the first time that day.

“Fuck the banks. Let them fall.”

“But that could destroy-”

“Let. It. Burn.”

“If you buy every house in Kingstown, it will stabilize the local market. It… could spread some positive moral to help boost the market.”

Benner looked at his minister. “Do it.”

“Do what?”

“But it all.”

“It all?”

“Everything. And Bob?”

“Yes, sir?”

“After it’s all bought and I own every single dwelling in the entire capital city using my own funds and the entire royal treasury as backing, you are fired.”

“What?”

“These fund managers. No offense to you both. Are the scum of the earth. They saw it before we did. Or, we did see it, but didn’t care. So, Bob? You’re fired. Your second in command is fired. And when you both leave? Call the Securities and Exchange Commission, and tell them that their top two are fired as well.”

“What-What’s going on, sir?”

“Remember when you told me I couldn’t change the banking system in this country because the banks had too much money and influence on politicians?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come, what was it, a year?”

Paul nodded. “9 months. Based on our analytics.”

“In 9 months, they won’t have the money, or the power. I’m stripping it for all its worth.”

“And the bailout?”

“No bailout. Let it crash and burn.”

Nine months later to the day from that conversation, the housing market in Rhodevus crashed and it crashed hard. Hundreds of billions of dollars were wiped from the economy and people were on the verge of losing everything. A bailout was imminent.

Until King Benner Wolff announced that he had previously purchased the entirety of the housing market in Kingstown. Some 143 billion Rhodes across 248,000 properties. Kingstown’s residents were safe from the fallout. Mortgages across the country which relied on Kingstown bonds as their backing stabilized, which helped slow the fall.

It hit the banks harder though. Their usual trick of buying good mortgages and selling the bad ones wasn’t going to work against the king of the country.

The National Quiniac City Bank, which was based in Belvin and not Quiniac City, closed its doors. Its assets were bought by the other big banks, including the federally backed Bank of Rhodevus, which took the lions share.

The same thing happened with Margan and Stanley Equity Capital. And SQR Financial. B Montgomery Fund and CE Edwards Capital a month after.

In all three major banks and fourteen major equity funds collapsed, along with trillions of dollars of value.

It effected everyone. The big and the small.

Then the day of the expected bailout finally came. Months too late, the newspapers said.

King Benner Wolff stood in front of the senate, and advised the billions of dollars of bailout money set aside for the banks go to the people, based on the financial records of the assets seized by the Bank of Rhodevus. Payouts started at the bottom, and worked their way up.

The people who invested pennies on the dollar got their money back and then some. The wealthy financiers who put millions of Rhodes into stocks and bonds, banking on the mortgage situation to last forever, got nothing. Those that survived the overhaul were audited by the federal government.

The national landscape changed that year. People gained faith in the government just as they lost faith in the banks.

News laws and systems were put in place so nothing like that could ever happen again. Benner moved to sell off his housing assets across the city, which wasn’t accomplished until after his death in 2006, by his daughter, Queen Diana Wolff, who completed the sell off in 2009. The Wolff family made billions off the purchases.

It all went towards strengthening the housing system across the country.

King Benner Wolff was posthumously given the title of “The Great” for what had become known as the Kingstown Housing Bubble. A situation which could have lead to millions of loosing their homes and jobs still effected hundreds of thousands, but the situation stabilized quickly in a way none expected. In a way that hurt the banks and not the common people.

Richard McCumber and Paul DuChain's equity fund, R and P Capital, made off with a hefty amount. Their stock purchases and buyouts from knowing what was to occur with the crash they warned the king quintupled their company's worth at the time. R and P is now trading some 1.6 billion Rhodes.

It was considered by the banking sector as Red Line Monday. The day that everything changed for them. Where bankers were once the financial elite, they became what everyone else was. Normal people, with normal jobs.

There was still money in mortgages. Still money in stocks and bonds. Plenty of it. But banks and funds were regulated. Systems were put in place to keep the money in the hands of the bankees, not the bankers.

[Rhodevus]

Growth
Kingstown, 1716

“Order!” Came the shout as the gavel pounded on the wooden banister. “I shall have order in this hall!”

The noise barely diminished, despite the incessant hammer falls, and shouts for calm. One hundred and twelve well dressed men waistcoats and triangular hats were shouting at one another from the large tennis hall which was being used as the parliament by the newly established Republic of Rhodevus.

One of the first republics to exist in the modern day, of the year of our lord one thousand, seven hundred and seventeen.

President Gabriel Hopplin stood at the front of the room, hands calmly removing excess felt from the collar of his surcoat. As if what he placed before his fellow representatives was nothing more than a housing reform bill.

No, the president stood with perfect grace, as the barrister hammered away behind him, trying to get any semblance of order before him. Shouts of “treason!” and “heresy!” and “sedition!” sprung up from the mouths of his compatriots. He did not care. Not truly.

It was an election year after all, and none of these men would vote against his plan should it come to fruition.

“Now,” the barrister said, as the room fell silent once more. A glare at each of the over enthusiastic members had them seated down with great haste. “If the first of the assembly would continue his speech. With the urge to keep inflammatory statements to a minimum, despite the topic.”

The president; the First of the Assembly, as he was officially called by law, cleared his throat and continued, as if nothing more than a scuffle had occurred. He smiled, even as his own fellow party members glared at him.

“As I was saying, the great wars of the home continent continue, and we are of no weak minds in this new country of the Rhodevun peoples. We of the colonized parts of the world are seen as lesser by our equals, and equals by our lessers. Let it not be our equals who show fear and our lesser who come to see us as their betters. As we are. The ignominy of the Failed Revolution still lingers on the tongues of our enemies and allies alike. We are a people of three worlds. The English of the South, the French of the North, and the aboriginal of the East. Each of our bloods thrum to the drums of war, and I say let our hearts beat to the sounds of musket and clashes of steel!”

There was a rowdy, “Here, here!” from some of the fellow members of parliament.

“Are we not just as strong, and as brave, and as civilized as our home continent? Is there not rightful indignation that they should trounce on our respectabilities as sovereign citizens, and be free from any blame or bloodshed?”

Some further clapping and shouts of agreement. The barrister hammered his gavel twice more, with a word to get to the point. Rhodevuns were not in favour of drawing out things senselessly. Not as the English borne and bread Gabriel Hopplin was.

“Then, if it pleases the parliament, let us vote. We as the citizens- as the republicans of Rhodevus, and that Great City of Our Rhodevan’s home in Rhode, should enter into those wars on the home continent. Forglory and prestige. To show our equals that we too stand among giants, and even as David, we shall defeat any goliath. We shall bring war to the Galarian isle. A staging ground for a future of empiredom and civilizing the civilized.”

Some more cheers, and repeated shouts of “treachery!” resounded.

Still, Gabriel heard more cheers than jeers. A success.

“Then, sir barrister of the parliament. May we the people vote on this engagement?”

It passed. Ninety-seven to fifteen in favour. Only the most staunchly peaceful did not voice their support. It was too good.

Good for polling, and national pride, and personal prestige.
Galaria was known as the land of salt and saltpeter. The Island of Flowers on the Flowing Sea.

“Yes,” the president mused to himself, as his fellow parliamentarians clapped for his success. “That is what we shall name our first territory. The Island of Flowers. L’Ile du Fleurs.”

The president’s smile could be said to be wicked that day.

His plan was more successful than even he hoped for.

Thousands of Rhodevun peoples joined the newly developed armies and navies. Rhodevus ventured to war a mere three years after its independence. And months later? The once great Kingdom of Galaria, had fallen into the hands of the Rhodevun peoples. In the year of our lord, 1719, the Kingdom of Galaria surrendered to the might of the Rhodeve forces.

A perfect time indeed.

President Gabriel Hopplin, on the final days of his second term, made a speech to reporters and soldiers alike, standing on the wreckage and ruins that was once the great hall that Galarian kings would give speeches from.

“We have shown this great world that our people are not to be pawns of war, but warriors of our own. Let all who look upon our rising sun, that we the varied peoples of Rhodevus are not equals to any. The Ile du Fleurs is ours, as it should always be. The islands of our continental archipelago are ours, as it always should be. The peoples of this world, are ours, as it always should be. I stand before the many faces of those who gained honour and glory for our great nation, to pray hear me as we, the Republic of Rhodevus, shed our shame and become the peoples of the Grande Republic of Rhodevus. On this very first ground in which our grande republic becomes an empire.”

There was a great many cheers and applause from those in the crowds. Reporters shouted and called his speech across Rhodevus as a blessed first day of the country by its first president.

Back home, when the polls opened, many were surprised to find that Gabriel Hopplin’s name was not on the ballot for his party, the Forwards Party, as the presidential candidate, as many expected. Instead, it was replaced by his co-council, his vice-president, Michael Jacobs.

Despite being greatly praised and admired by the peoples of Rhodevus, the country’s first president was not liked by his own party. As soon as he left for the newly annexed territory in the home continent, the Forwards Party began to work one eliminating his last shreds of support within the party, and nominated his successor, Michael Jacobs. While President Hopplin was a minister and man of politics, vice-president Jacobs was a military man. The perfect man to lead the newly established grande republic and empire forwards into the brand new day and future.

It was a new world, and Rhodevus was set to grow.

[Rhodevus]

Frost, Part 1
Hunt

Windbreaker grunted, shaking his head against the freezing wind. Amaia ran a hand through Windbreaker’s mane. It was cold. Near to freezing without the wind, and well below with the strong winds and the first snowfall of the season.

Amaia always believed that the winters of her people were bad, but her long exile had stolen that notion from her. She was inordinately grateful that her friends had given her a wolf hide coat and thick woolen boots. Windbreaker’s own thick blanket was warm, but not nearly enough to keep the tanto moose warm in the frozen grasses.

Windbreaker shook his back leg, a smattering of wet snow falling onto the ground below. A smile from Amaia and a nicker from the moose was enough for them to agree on a heading.

“Almost there, Windbreaker,” Amaia said, between stuttering puffs of warm breath. “They said that the Elder Ones, the Ghong, should be near here. We just have to find them.”

The winter storms picked up, along with the howling of the wind.

Amaia’s lips chattered and turned blue. She balled her hands up within her coat, and beneath her armpits. Every step was that much slower. Ducking her chin into her collar, she breathed out what little warmth her breath had. She could feel the sweet wetness of her exhalation freeze solid. Windbreaker did not look much better. The occasional leg shake became frequent. Amaia had to stop on occasion to rub some feeling back into her companion’s legs.

“I-I sh-should make u-us a fire, right buddy?”

Windbreaker said nothing, only moving forward by another few steps, looking back at Amaia with a huff.

“Right. No wood. No time. Just a little further.”

Every step was colder than the last. Amaia gasped as her foot slipped on a patch of ice.

It was only then that she realized that they were no longer walking on frosted, snowy dirt and grass, but a completely frozen over lake.

A loud sound echoed through the ice, ricocheting through the thick, frozen depths. A small crack emerged under Windbreaker. The massive moose groaned, shaking his antlers in warning.

At once, all Amaia’s lost energy surged back through her. Adrenaline awakened every nerve in her body.

“Windbreaker!” Amaia ordered, throwing a hand up. “Walk to me. Slowly now.”

Every step from the moose pinged through the ice lake.

“Slowly I said! Slow now. Come on boy. Just one more step.”

The crack spread. Just a little bit.

Aiama’s eyes darted from Windbreaker to the growing crack behind him.

She took a small step back. The snow was too strong. Amaia had no clue if she was walking closer to shore, or further onto the ice.

She just had to hope.

“Steady, you’ve got this.” Amaia whispered, unclear if she was talking to herself or her companion.

A resounding and sharp echo plinked across the lake. Every direction exploded in sound as the crack grew from the size of a palm to that of a leg, then doubled in size in an instant.

“Windbreaker, run!” She shouted, turning around and throwing herself forward. As Windbreaker galloped ahead, she leapt onto his back, as the crack shattered into a spiderweb of fractures, each expanding into growing cracks of their own.

Windbreaker huffed with each racing step. Spiderwebs formed in the ice of each gallop, only worsening the situation.

Amaia shut her eyes and prayed to every single spirit she could think of. Even that blasted Ohtawa. This is all because she stepped onto water, wasn’t it.

“Faster Windbreaker!”

Then, amid the blinding snow, there was light.

Fire!

“Head to the fire!”

The cracks opened up into unfrozen water. Windbreaker shrieked as his foot fell into the freezing lake, splashing them both as he jumped ahead.

She could see trees. Snow covered and wilting, but there they were. Just a few paces ahead.

So close to freedom. To safety.

Then the ice cracked beneath Windbreaker’s feet, and Amaia was thrown forward, onto the icy, hard ground.

Windbreaker shrieked in panic as he fell into the water, half submerged as he tried to swim.

“Windbreaker!” She screamed.

A hand clasped on her back. Amaia spun in fear, raising her arms in a protective guard.

A man in a parka twice as thick as her own coat was standing there, a club in one hand. Two more men were behind him, each carrying a lit torch in one hand and a club of their own in the other.

The first words the man spoke were foreign to her, but then he spoke in the language of the Jhong-Ti.

“You are safe, traveller.”

“Windbreaker!” She called out to him, as he fell below the icy waves once again. “Please, I must save my companion.”

“He is lost to the waters.”

Amaia ripped the man’s hand from her shoulder, a scowl touching her blue lips. “Then I shall save him.”

With a gasp of air, she jumped into the frozen waters of the lake.

Her entire body lit up in shock. The very idea of breathing was impossible for her int hat state. Even if her head was above the water. It was too cold to see, to think, to swim. Not that she truly knew how to do the latter.

The only thought that could possibly enter her mind was how cold everything was.

It was too cold for life. Her fingered tensed up as electricity shot through her spine. But then she felt the wet, matted fur of her Windbreaker.

Windbreaker! That’s what she was there for. She felt her way around his body, unlatching all her supplies from around the moose’s torso, letting it sink deeper into the lake. Then, finding his antlers, she pulled.

Even underwater, Amaia could hear the screams of her companion. The thundering heartbeat of the great beast pounded in his chest and through her hand placed on it.

Her head broke free from the waves, a sharp gasping for air. Then Windbreaker let out a sharp cry of his own. She hung onto Windbreaker as he pulled the both of them onto dry land.

Amaia looked up at the three men who had found them.

“Please,” she gasped out, her lips so blue and her entire body shaking from the deep cold penetrating through to her very soul. “Save Windbreaker.”

The leader of the three pulled down his parka, revealing his entire face. He smiled warmly.

“You have reached the northernmost village of the Inkuilit territory. You have ventured into our ice waters, and you have saved a companion from its fiery grasp. You are a friend. You shall both be safe in our lands.”

Amaia heard Windbreaker’s quiet whiny, the great beast struggling from breath.

“Good.”