Lubska has already amassed twenty-two thousand rifles. Aimone has procured some two million rounds of ammunition. Rancais has started work on the Liovilier bombing craft, Mirage numbers they now count at seventy. Panzer production has reached seven models a week from the Stukk Plant, we’re having one roll off the lines everyday now.
We expect to double those numbers by the end of the week.
And double it again by the end of the month.
- Konigsministerium der Verteidigung internal memo.
Aimone took a deep breath as he looked down at the piece of paper before him. It was a speech. It had been looked over by his own writers, then by members of his government. By Wissel and Richard both. Finally his wife had cast a glance on it. She said that she would stand by Aimone in whatever path he chose, that was not the advice he had wanted. He wanted to be angrily scolded, he wanted pretentious mockery, he wanted loving support, he wanted… he wanted anything but this.
Aimone took a deep breath. He looked up at the ocean of people filling the streets. They stood on cars, they looked out of windows from tall sandstone buildings. They flowed in like an ever growing flood. People chatted incessantly, some drank wine, others sold their wares out of small carts. Some people were handing out Rilian flags, others were starting to chant the national hymn. There was nothing Rilians liked quite so much as a break. A new national holiday was practically revolutionary. Unfortunately, all the rumours had been wrong. He was not stepping down, he was not announcing a marriage, there was no new family member cooking in his wife’s oven either. Frankly, they should have guessed it already. Today was the Day of Epan Freedom.
Aimone looked back down. “Ladies and gentlemen of Rilia. My brethren.” He cast his arms into the air as the words started to flow. It was always like this, once the dam cracked with the first word, the verbiage would come in a torrent. “My brothers and sisters! My great extended family! I come to you today not as your king, not as your lord, nor as your superior. Today, I come to stand face to face with family. I will not keep you in the dark on what is happening to us. I will not lie, I will not make empty promises and I will not pretend the situation is anything that it is not.”
“Today, we will speak of grandiosities. Today, we will speak of taking a step into the unknown. Today, we will write ourselves into the history books. Because today, my brothers and sisters, my fathers and mothers, my children, today, we wholly separate our magnificent Rilia and our brothers and sisters of Epa from the White Pantheon!”
To use the term ‘economic-miracle’ would be wrong. For one, it is an understatement. Wissel did not perform any miracle for Doschia, he took the reins of a dead horse and with a single whip brought it back to life. In a mere three months, the effects of his reforms were already being felt. Companies that were closing factories, downsizing their workforces, hastily seeking contracts that would not even earn profit, but rather simply keep afloat. Companies that, by all definitions, were on the verge of collapse and bankruptcy, had found a new client:
The newly formed Konigsministerium der Verteidigung, the Doschian Ministry of Defence.
Essay by modern UNN economist Aylene Alang: ‘How to pull a continent out of the fire’
Richard VI stood in his throne-room as the various peons of EIE swarmed before him. Aimone would be giving his speech now, as would the others orchestrated in the plot of Epan separation. He just had to do his job here, Allia would be least hit from a war, and it was the most ambivalent country in the Epan Community about the Community itself.
Wissel, Artois and Jozef would have an easy job with it. Their nations already had daily protests against the White Pantheon. Aimone’s Rilians did not care for such grandiosities and would follow along as long as they had a full stomach of food. But Allians? How many of Richard’s descendants had been forced to step down? Allians were a cold and empirical people, ones who needed to see numbers and rationality.
Well, if they wanted numbers and rationality, then he would give them that. His wife, Eleanor, Queen of Allia, Flower of his Heart, stood besides him in a magnificent black dress and handed him yet another piece of paper: “The Chimry Iron Mine collapse, just five years ago. Three hundred and twenty one dead. We asked for help, Olympiada sent Yur, God of Chimneys to assist with lifting stones after most of the rubble had already been cleared.”
And Eleanor passed him another. “The Allian Petrol Oil Rig Failure of 2009. Eighty nine dead. We asked for help, Olympiada sent Elassa this time. To inspect the waters for pollution after we cleared everything up.”
And Eleanor passed him another. “The Lowlands Mountain Collapse. 2005. Two villages buried entirely, eighty hundred and fourty three dead. We asked for help. Olympiada sent Iniri. She arrived in 2007.”
And Eleanor passed him another. “The Flood of Whitepond, 2005. Sixty three dead. We asked for help. We have still not received even a notice that they received the letter.”
And Eleanor passed him another. “The Arcaster Coal Explosion. 2002. Fifty two dead.” And Eleanor passed him another. “Limeway Flooding. Twenty one dead. 2001.” And Eleanor passed him another. “Saxeter Storm. 2000. Three hundred dead. We asked for help, where did it come?”
Richard looked at the camera of EIE. “Ladies and Gentlemen of Allia. I have only gone back 25 years now. If we go through the twentieth century, we will count that there has been two-hundred and three times that our government has asked Olympiada for help.” He helped up the paper with the details of the storm that hit the town of Saxeter. “This piece of paper is all we have to show for it, one hundred and ninety nine times. In the span of more than a century, they have answer only four requests!”
“So I ask again, why do we pay a tithe when this is the reward we get for our servitude?” Richard contained his smile, this is how you worked a nation. He put the paper down on the table and Eleanor passed him the next disaster. This would be a long presentation but Allians liked history. He was about to give them a millennia of failings.
Some men did not see it. Some men saw it and pretended not to. Others ignored it. But Bernard Hinleck saw it. A man drafted from the University of Camford, the oldest education institution in Allia. Older than even the Great War itself. Just half a year ago, Bernard Hinleck had been doing a degree in international supply routes. It was a boring job, but it was good money.
And then a recruiter from the Crown had come with a job offer. Hinleck had impressed the man, and so he found himself here. The Kirinyaan Invasion had ended, the Pantheon had been repelled and humiliated. Some people flaked out after that since at first everyone presumed it was a White Pantheon task. But was it? Hinleck did not think so, Allia was not Doschia or Rancais. This wasn’t the death spasms of a nation approaching collapse, this was the sort of planning they wrote about in the history books. The sort that make you question how no one noticed it.
Why plan a multitude of routes to ship manufactured goods to Doschia? Doschian imports of Allian engines had only started for a month at that point. Why plan them not for efficiency but for safety? Air-routes to Lubska? Why did mighty King Richard suddenly order Allian Aerospace Engineering a contract of transport aircraft? And why did it number two hundred? That would give Allia a larger logistics fleet than all of Epa combined, was it not just a waste of money? What about the talk of submarine transports to Rilia? The talk of strengthening the Rancais-Allia undersea tunnel? Hinleck smiled as he sat in his office and opened his notepad. Today on the resume was ‘Lubskan Grain Imports: Fall back scenarios in case shipments stop.’
It was obvious what they were preparing for. Some men did not see it. They simply lacked the imagination to remember what Epa forgot when the Great War ended. But Bernard Hinleck saw it. And he simply found it exciting.
Artois looked around the parliament of Rancais. Cameras were here, recording this historic moment as men raised their hands to cast their vote. That was simply tradition at this point, behind Artois, on a large screen, a giant television was broadcasting the results to everyone live. The whole country would be watching, and the whole country was in agreement.
Of course, Artois knew the results before they even started. Rancais selected for the best, this wasn’t like the monarchies of Wissel and Richard and Aimone. This was cut-throat dealings, at least Maisara had put a stop to the assassinations though, since she had wiped out Anarchia’s cults here, there was no one easy to pin the blame of a kill on. Anyone who did not have a stranglehold on their party would be cast out to the dogs before the Sun came up in the morning. So Artois did, he knew how his party was voting, and he knew he had a majority before the first vote was even cast.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The screen flashed. Artois looked back at it, and turned back to look at the Rancais Parliament. “People of Rancais.” He took a deep breath. “Just as our ancestors did in the past when they declared the Republic, just as they did when the first Republic became a tyranny and ended, the second monarchy, and the third and fourth Republics. Just as they cast off the chains of tyrants, we have now done the same. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am sure our ancestors are looking down on us in pride.”
Artois bowed and let the speaker for today’s session read out the results. “The Act of Epan Separation has passed!”
It was so easy when all you needed to rule a country was one hall.
Lorenzo and Matteo stood smoking in their workshop. Break was coming soon, and there was little to worry about. This contract all but done. It was for the development of new train carriages. No reasoning was given, although there never was, but this one did raise questions. Maybe it was for dealing with avalanches in northern Rilia? Or maybe they were to transport something unimaginably heavy. Cranes on trains? Whatever, it didn’t matter, and it was a government contract. That meant it paid well. Usually those would be lax on the workload too, with any ‘delays’ simply being glossed over. Unfortunately Lorenzo and Matteo both had rather poor luck recently, with the government inspectors being as stringent as Doschian ones.
They both stared at the piece of paper. Some ash fell from Matteo’s cigarette and onto the ground. A barrel. Smooth bore. Three hundred and seventy millimetres. Holes at the bottom, probably for the pipe for be mounted on some mechanism. Lorenzo bent to look down at the paper. “What the fuck is this?”
“I have no damn clue.’
Jozef looked down as he turned around. Wissel and Richard had both told him to run a speech. Artois had provided some hints with the political manoeuvring in a democracy. Aimone had given him the best advice, which was that Lubska was his country, and he would know what to do. Lubska was not a monarchy, so he could not just decide what to say, and it didn’t have the terribly centralized nature of Rancais’ political establishment. He continued his speech, it was time to turn the temperature up. “The building behind me is the Sejm! The people in that room are supposed to represent you! Do they?!” He got a thunderous ‘no’ that sounded as if it was about to crack the streets open. “How long have we wanted to leave the Pantheon? What does our tithe go for? To pay for the Paladin and Seeker bases on our own territory?!” And he got an even louder no this time.
No, this was not the careful and refined Rancais, were looks could tell a thousand words and glances revealed souls. This was untamed Lubska, the politicians here were wild beasts. Wild beasts that changed their opinions depending on who greased their pockets, what sort of mood they had today, or whether they had added vodka to their coffee in their morning or drank it straight instead. Jozef was here to corral wild beasts, so he would bring in the wildest monster that politics knew. He raised his arms into the air and heard the cheering crowd. Flags were flying, helicopters were recording it all, people were climbing over the iron railings of the parliament to get in. “We pay for our own occupation! We pay to be plundered! We get what in return? Maisara’s rampage would have come here were Kassandora not to cut it off by starting that war!” Jozef smiled as he looked at the cameras. It was time to make the bravest, or the stupidest statement of his life. Frankly, he did not know which one. “Kassandora has done for this country in a year than the White Pantheon has done in a thousand! She has given us an opening! It is time we seize it before it disappears!”
Jozef pressed a button with his foot. The police got the notification, the gates to the Sejm had flung open. The masses came. Jozef turned as men ran up the stairs. They had wanted a change, they wanted to get rid of the White Pantheon. Jozef knew he wouldn’t be able to tame this political establishment in time to keep up with Wissel or Artois, but there was no need. Why bother taming a dog when a tiger was offering up its leash? He walked to the stairs as the public started to slow down behind him. The men in the front were his, they were simply here to lead the crowd by example.
He flung open the huge wooden doors. It was revealed a long corridor, carpeted in Whites and Golds just as the Pantheon had decided for them. And he got to the end, to the next set of doors. For a moment, he hesitated. And then he pushed them open. Men and women were already in smart suits and looking around in confusion at the commotion outside. It was classic that they had not realised yet what was happening. Absolutely in character for them. Jozef took a step forwards as public ran past him.
“Members of Lubska’s Sejm, the people have spoken! it is time to vote on whether Lubska secures its independence!” Jozef only smiled, he hated these people with a passion, they were the sorriest lot of layabouts and paper pushers. The only reason he could not remove them was because of a Pantheon Decree in Lubskan Politics. Not anymore though, now, he would see how the wild beasts of politicians would fare when put up against the terrible monster that was frenzied and rallied masses.
Kacper sighed as he finished another stack of papers, around him, a dozen other tired souls were doing the same job. He would knock out the next person who came up to him and said that governmental work was easy. It was letter after letter. Some people were excited for letting their local club be used by a new governmental department even though they knew nothing about it. Those were fine. Those Kacper could sign off on and forget about. But those were the minority.
Most simply asked questions. Kacper could not answer. There was nothing for him to answer with after all. He didn’t even know what the new department would be in charge of. But the Sejm had decreed that they needed numbers, so numbers they shall have.
Kacper stamped one letter and flipped open the next. And the worst part of the job. Someone who simply told him to go away, and that the outdoors club would rather disband than becoming governmental. Kacper sighed and typed its name into his database. The Lubskan Mountaineering Association. They were flagged: ‘Critical – Must Secure.’
Kacper sighed, leaned back, and thought for a moment. He could try bribery first, this project had a virtually unlimited budget. An appeal to patriotism should come before that, patriots would be offended by bribes, but those with a want for money wouldn’t be offended by any moral appealing.
And if both methods failed, he could invoke the newly passed Governmental Requisitioning Law.
Wissel leaned into the microphone as banners flew behind him. Some countries, Rancais and Lubska, would need to be grabbed by the horns and made to march. Some countries, like Allia, would need to be bargained with logically and have infallible reasoning be explained to them. Some countries, like Rilia, would need to be held together and inspired. And some countries, like Doschia, did not need advanced reasoning of any sort. Doschia should not bow to the White Pantheon, because Doschia was Doschia, and the White Pantheon was the White Pantheon, and that was simply enough.
“How many times have we been failed?” Wissel asked the crowd, the stood before in a Great Hall. He had invited aristocrats and farmers, machinists and professors, teachers and policemen, everyone and anyone had got an invitation at random, although that was the point of it. He knew the room would cheer, and if the room was all one type of person, then he was effectively allying himself with that class. No, he was here to befriend all of Doschia, from the bottom to the top. “We are not talking of moralities here, we are not talking of pragmatisms either. Not even principles. We are talking about sheer stupidity and malice. We are talking about Divines like Elassa, Maisara, Fortia and Allasaria who have continuously done nothing but bemoan our efforts at independence. Who set us down a path of crisis, demand we get off our knees, and then scold us for being too slow.” King Wissel Ellenheim cast his arms into the air as he kept on speaking to all the men and women in fine suits and dresses.
“It is not that they are stupid, that is simply Divine malice. The sheer stupidity is on our part, for putting up with it for so long.” He let the laughter hang for a moment before silencing it. “I meant what I said, what else is it called? A man fooled once is a victim of circumstance, a man fooled twice should learn to smarten up, a man fooled everyday for a year straight is a fool we shake our heads at.” He looked around the room. “What do you call men who have been getting tricked their entire lifetime? What about a nation built upon fraud?”
And he got the shameful looks in response. Yes. The joke was not so funny now. “I have led Doschia through the high years of Anarchia’s riots. I have led it through this five year long recession. We are now coming out f booth stronger than before. I cannot say the same for Olympiada.” He took a deep breath and let the silence hang for a moment. “No, Olympiada has been shattered in Kirinyaa. It will not be long before all of Arika is free from their influence. Everyone in this room is smart enough to know it will happen. Everyone in this room better know that when the war is across a continent, how large it will be.”
Wissel took another deep breath as he saw the looks of shame transform into worry and fear. Eyes that were looking down at the flaw to avoid his gaze were now meeting his in order to find some ray of hope. “And everyone knows that when Maisara and Fortia and Allasaria run out of Paladins and Guardians and Seekers, they will start recruiting. I ask one question, how many Doschians will die in Arika for a war that is not our own?” And he saw the fear be wiped away into horror. After all, what he was saying was true, it was obvious that was going to happen. Only the most optimistic fool would suggest it would not, and even then it would be through some hope that Doschia was simply not going to be a recruitment zone.
“Kassandora is free. Arascus has returned. The White Pantheon has lost its first engagement. There is another Great War on the horizon ladies and gentlemen. I do not joke, the situation is as serious as it can get.” Wissel saw a woman burst out into tears, her husband quickly hugged her. That was enough, now it was time to give them that ray of hope.
Wissel made his voice magnanimous and powerful, so loud and strong it carried and echoed across the walls of the entire palace hall. “I am your King. It is my duty to lead you to prosperity, to goodness in life, to self-fulfilment. I hope that all of you can trust me, not by my family name but by the actions I take as I wear the crown.”
Wissel let the silence for a moment longer. “Sometimes, there is no good option. Sometimes, you have to choose the least bad. Today, I make that choice for Doschia. If anyone wishes to speak up and stop me, then I welcome you to do it. I hope one of you will do it, because I know this will make times hard for us. But if we do not, then that hardness will feel like a cushion when compared to the grip of a White Pantheon in wartime.” Wissel looked around the room. If there ever was a moment when people needed saving, it was now.
“I declare, once and for all, a total expulsion of the White Pantheon from Doschia. A total separation between Epa and the White Pantheon! If the Divines wish to bring us into war, then it will be our own terms!”
And no one came to stop him.