Midday
Perhaps no one would die today. This thought was constantly in the minds of Whitworth's men and women as they went about their daily lives in their small city's center. Those who tried to put this grim prayer out of their minds were constantly reminded. The synchronized boot steps of the recently deployed 8th Division. The faint siren in the distance; a police car or firetruck. The headlines at a newsstand; 'April 10 Bomber in Custody', 'High Command Ponders Further Deployment'.
Days before, the latest in a months-long string of bombing attacks had hit Whitworth. Despite a de-facto declaration of martial law in the city, the most recent attack had been the most brutal: a group of explosions resulting in the deaths of almost 240 students at Schlesser Memorial Secondary School. The only glimmer of hope was that for the first time, one of the fundamentalist Republicans behind the attacks had been apprehended.
On this cloudy morning, Whitworth's residents silently prayed that such an attack didn't happen again. The death toll from the attacks in recent months was stretching into the thousands; devastating for any city, let alone one of barely a million. Such bloodshed had also taken a toll on the spirits of those who called Whitworth home; virtually everyone hurried across the old brick pavement of the square as if they were the solitary inhabitant of some empty plane. The deafening roar of an explosion brought every one of them back to reality.
Panicked pedestrians turned to the source of the sound. Screams of horror broke out as they found it. Whitworth Police Headquarters. The ground floor blasted out. A gaping hole torn from wall. Rubble, bodies, parts, strewn across the sidewalk. Yet another attack. Prayers unanswered.
Staatsoper Gordonopia, Gordonopia City, United Gordonopia
It is quite a shame, is it not?
Sergeant Erich Ritzner could only nod as Emperor William Raleigh VII addressed him. The fact that he had captured a member of the most wanted terrorist cell in the Empire only days before hadn't overwhelmed him at all. The fact that it had earned him a personal audience with the Emperor had.
"So many of our people have no taste for this... masterpiece," Raleigh continued, "this form of art. Tell me, Sergeant, is the opera not the very essence of our people? Of Gordonopia?"
For a moment Ritzner stayed silent, perplexed as to how he should respond. "In a way, your majesty, I suppose it is," he slowly began, "to be honest, I didn't discover it until the war. Music like this just doesn't... penetrate places like Inner-Deska. When I heard it for the first time, though," Ritzner paused to find the right words, "when I heard it, it just captured me."
To many, his admiration would have seemed nothing more than flattery. To Dietrich, they were true as life. Despite growing up in the bastion of Gordonopian Rock, the first opera he had heard had touched a chord in him. He could recall the moment as if it were yesterday.
The last bridge before Tolten. Take it and advance into the Republic's industrial heart unchallenged. Fail and watch as the fading regime poured its last, best men into the city unhindered. Captain Gable orders a speaker set up. Rally the men. The crystal clear voice cascades over Ritzner. Sheer beauty in song.
As the scene on stage continued, Raleigh gazed softly at Ritzner. It felt as if the Emperor was staring directly into his soul. When a lull in the music began, Raleigh spoke once again.
"I understand you completely, Sergeant. I believe that spirit is within every one of our countrymen. How else would our great nation have produced so many true virtuosi? Steiner, Ansbach, Milner, their number stretches to eternity. It brings some comfort that my reign has brought a revival of this purest of arts. Some days I feel that it is the only true good I have accomplished."
Stunned by these words, Ritzner felt the obligation to reply.
"Your highness, you know that that isn't true. Look what you've done for our people. You've brought us land, you've restored meritocracy to a once hopeless people, you've-"
"All earthly virtues, Sergeant," the Emperor interrupted, "but you are, I suppose, correct. What I speak of, however, is so much deeper. I am referring to the Gordonopian soul. Land is necessary for a people to be great, I give you that. And no society can be called just if it relegates the least of its members to eternal hardship. However, all of this is meaningless if a nation has no spirit. That spirit, the soul, comes from literature, from culture, from music. That spirit is what we lacked for so long, what we still lack in so many ways. If ever there comes a day where we are truly at peace, I will do everything within my power to change that."
Ritzner was silent as he absorbed Raleigh's words. He had never thought to view life that way, and yet it seemed so clear. As the opera on stage reached its peak, the sergeant felt the belief take hold deep within him. Simple material strength wasn't enough; Gordonopia needed to rediscover its soul.
Just then, a uniformed Major entered the box, and leaned next to the Emperor's ear. After the man whispered for nearly a minute, Raleigh nodded and the officer left. With a lamenting tone in his voice, Raleigh turned to Ritzner and began to speak.
"Alas, it seems that day may never come. Whitworth has felt the pain of loss once again and this time, we must retaliate."
Stunned, Ritzner inquired as to what exactly had happened.
"The city's police headquarters have been bombed. Our noble police are dead in the streets. The only comfort is that your prisoner broke only moments beforehand. Unfortunately, even this brings its own dreadful revelation. Sergeant, this situation is much larger than anyone could have anticipated. I hope you will excuse me, and forgive me for leaving you in the middle of our discussion."
"Of course, your majesty," Ritzner replied.
As Raleigh turned and pulled aside the private box's curtain, Ritzner was left with a sense of wonder.
To: Council of Nine, The Armed Republics of the Three isles of Skibereen
From: Jonathon Dunn, Empire of United Gordonopia
Subject: Fynndjall Support of Terrorist Organizations
Restriction: Maximum
Dear Honored Councillors,
It is with great sorrow that I must ask you to control your people. Since the end of my nation's War of Restoration a number of radical pro-Republican organizations have attempted to reverse the popular, legitimate restoration of His Majesty Emperor William Raleigh VII. Although some of these organizations appear to work through non-violence, the pervading attitude among these fundamentalist Republicans appears to be that violence against innocent civilians will lead to change. In recent months, several groups blinded by this twisted belief have undertaken a campaign of terror throughout Gordonopia's northern provinces. Despite the best efforts the Empire's police and military forces, terrorist attacks have already claimed the lives of thousands of men, women and children.
Until recently it was believed that radical groups were acting independently. I now know that this is not the case. Several sources of information, ranging from military intelligence to prisoner testimony, have indicated that organizations within your nation are currently the primary backers of these groups in terms of both funds and materials. Although I am aware that your nation does not recognize foreign law as legitimate, I implore you to restrain the criminal and political elements within Skibereen that have enabled so much suffering on the part of my people.
Because of the dire situation within Gordonopia, quick action is necessary. As you receive this communique, you will find that Fynndjall assets within Gordonopia have been frozen. This will remain in effect until our situation is resolved. If no solution can be reached, the Empire of United Gordonopia will be forced to take more drastic measures to ensure the safety of its people.
Sincerely,
Jonathon Dunn
Arbitrator of Foreign Affairs
OOC: If you are interested in joining, and you aren't from GD, contact Gordonopia or Skibereen by TG or IRC.