Rosa Chapman listened to the buzz of voices from the hall next door. For a moment she suddenly felt all of her 47 years. It had been a long few months and a gruelling election campaign.


“Are you ready, Rosa?” Her campaign manager Annabelle Fisher appeared beside her.


“Give me a second please, Annie.” Rosa took a couple of slow deep breaths, cast one last look at her notes and pushed open the door. A loud cheer greeted her as she walked to the microphone. She forced a broad smile on her face and raised a fist. A fresh round of cheers and applause rose from the crowd.


“Well, here we are! I would like to congratulate all my fellow candidates for a well run, if at times tough, campaign. I also extend my profound thanks and gratitude to my campaign team and the thousands of volunteers and activists whose hard and tireless work helped make this victory a reality. Today marks a new chapter in Gesthenia's history. As a nation we have undergone many trials and tribulations in our past. But today we take a step towards putting them behind us.


“Gesthenia is a proud nation made up of proud people. I am grateful and humbled that the people of Gesthenia have entrusted me to guide this great country. I will repay this trust by working for the many, not the few! For too long have the poor, the disenfranchised and most vulnerable members of our society been left to fend for themselves. This must not be allowed to continue. I promise to everyone here, and also watching and listening across the country, to implement a series of comprehensive programs of reform and development, as promised in my manifesto. Something which would not be needed if not for the years and years and years of corruption and incompetence of the previous administration!”


She paused. “I apologise. I sometimes forget I'm not still on the campaign trail.” A smattering of chuckles drifted around the room.


“But on the subject of my predecessor, Mr Anthony Malvern... While I may fundamentally disagree with many of his views and policies, I have found him to be a worthy opponent, a man of strong convictions, both in the Chamber and on the campaign trail. However, like all of you by now, I too have been paying attention over recent months to the accusations and rumours surrounding Mr. Malvern and the activities of members of his government. Therefore, I am announcing that my first act as President will be the formation of a judicial commission into the actions of my predecessor.”


She stepped back from the microphone. There was a moment of hushed silence in the hall. Then the noise started. A cacophony of journalists all shouting questions, a sizeable amount of applause Rosa was pleased to hear and a few angry shouts and boos. Anthony Malvern grasped her hand and smiled for the assembled cameras.“You bitch!” he said.


Rosa leaned down to his ear. “Now, now Tony. You of all people should know the dangers of saying 'unfortunate' things in the presence of microphones.” For a brief moment a look of absolute hatred flashed across his features before he forced a grin back towards the crowd. After a few minutes, Rosa stepped forward and raised her fist in celebration then turned and headed for the steps off the stage. Annabelle, her campaign manager was waiting for her offstage.


“Well, Annie, let's see if they are still calling me 'bland and moribund' in tomorrow's papers now!” said Rosa, and strode off down the corridor.

Letter addressed to the Branchian capital, published in the Branchian Bugle (The BB) on August 10th, 2023:

Quote:Dearest Mr. Levensky, and for that matter whoever else it may concern,

My name is Lily Nils. For eighteen years I have worked as a professional hitman, assassin, and torture artist for the Branchian government. But you already probably know that. What you don’t know is that six years ago, I began a campaign to take down this corrupt and fraudulent excuse for a government from the inside. With the invaluable help of Mr. Andreas Holgersen of Zongongia, I have gathered concrete evidence of this government’s misdeeds and intend on releasing them in a public exposé in three days. 

So why write this letter then? I write this to petition Mr. Levensky to reveal his crimes and repent to the world of his own free will. Even the evilest of men must know when they’ve been defeated, and I allow you now one last chance for some kind of redemption in the eyes of the law. If not, you will meet your downfall, I promise you that. 

I hope this nations burns and both of us know exactly why, Mr. Levensky.

Best wishes,

Lily

Theater of Visions, Caronia
Friday, 13th January 1872

“Another fantastic performance, Fabián. You’ve outdone yourself once again!” Fabián Pesina hurriedly brushed through the long row of fat cats sitting in the front row of the theater as applause rang out all around. The world-renowned playwright had just debuted his latest performance and it did not disappoint.

But with every successful play of his came the floods of aristocrats who wished to spin Fabián’s works as one of the many achievements of Costenan colonial rule of Aredoa, which could not be further from the truth. In fact, the only contribution of Costeno to Fabián’s brilliance is that most of his antagonists resembled what he saw as the stereotypical Costenan elite- wealthy, powerful, obnoxious, stupid, complacent.

Not that any of them got the reference. They had been born as the successors to their fathers’ wealth, a ‘career’ that did not require much intellect. Most attended elite schools in the capital where teachers were scared into giving all the aristocratic children nothing but the top grades.

“Congratulations, Fabián. I’ll be in contact with those ministry links we discussed.” The men were all just empty suits to Fabián as he sped through, giving each one a brief handshake and an ingenuine smile. He was in a rush. Normally he would be attending a post-show party with his cast, but not tonight. He had a prior engagement that was firmly in the center of his mind.

Fabián exited the theater. He did not take one of the many horses and carts waiting for passengers. Instead, he set out walking through the dimly lit streets on the pleasant January evening, taking in his surroundings as he strode. Fabián left the city center and headed towards the impoverished outskirts, rushing to catch one of the few carriages that would be headed to Bancoa that evening.


Ministry of State Security, Vahania

“So, a ‘Cultural Congress’, they call it?” Under-Secretary Segura smoked a fine Aredoan cigar, filling the room with the light mist of smoke, as he posed the question to the intelligence agents standing in front of him. A number of officials were gathered to hear the details of the intelligence briefing.

“Yes, sir. A ragtag group seeking to undermine the state’s cultural reforms that have brought Aredoa firmly under the sphere of Costenan influence. It is their stated goal to restore a bespoke Aredoan national identity.”

“Well, why haven’t we shut them down yet? These things inevitably lead to notions of separating from the empire. I’d rather that it doesn’t get there, Colonel.” The Under-Secretary made no effort to hide his frustration. He had much better things to do on a Friday evening than to listen to the ramblings of fools.

“We have spent months gathering information on the group, sir. It is a collection of socialists, communists, suffragettes, trade unionists, self-determinationists, you name it. A recipe for treason. Our goal is not just to ban the cultural movement, but to cut off the heads of the various undesirable political movements. In one fell swoop, we will be able to seize their leaders and have them imprisoned for their sedition.”

“How much longer do we have to let this group fester while you gather intelligence? Decisive action is no good if it is not swift.”

“You misunderstand, Under-Secretary, we believe we have all the information we need to act now. The Cultural Congress is meeting in Bancoa tonight. With your blessing, we can move into their meeting place in a matter of hours.”

Chief of Police Javier Murillo spoke up this time. “Bancoa? We don’t have much of a presence down that far south. The logistics of mass arrests just don’t make sense with our manpower.”

“I have men from the capital that are stationed down there in anticipation, Chief Murillo. All I need is the Under-Secretary’s signature and we’re a go.”

Under-Secretary Segura let out a deep sigh. He wasn’t known for being a very inspiring leader. “Well, if you insist, Colonel. Just know that any failure and the blame will be placed squarely on you. I have no time for incompetence." He was handed a piece of paper by one of the intelligence agents and, after giving it a brief scan with his eyes, placed his signature on it.

Under the Protection of the State Ordinance (1836), I, the undersigned, do authorize any and all means of force to suppress the seditious and treasonous activities in the region of Bancoa.

X      Anton Segura       

A Quick Summary of my Ideas

Sunil Shi, the mythological founder of the nation, arrived to the land many years ago, discovering what she described as an untouched paradise of the earth. According to legend, she came from a far-away tribe on a journey to seek out a new land away from the constant floods and disasters of their own land. Some modern bits of culture would support this theory including advanced flood barrier technology and alarm systems. That being said, despite there being no doubt that the woman herself existed (her journal entries are quite well documented), there is a considerable amount of argument over the validity of what was contained within her story. Her descriptions of the land and its inhabitants seem mostly accurate, many of them being linked to documented creatures and landmarks today, but her mental health continued to deteriorate as the journal went on and many of her entries become less and less based in reality. At one point she claims that she has reproduced asexually in her sleep without pregnancy or a male member of the species. She speaks of herself repopulating the island with people created from her own essence. The general theory surrounding this is that in fact her asexual reproduction was simply the arrival of the rest of her tribe, having been forced from their homeland waiting for the return of Sunil. One of the more recent proponent arguments in favor of Sunil’s journals centered around genetics and the historical record of early peoples of the land, a group that was entirely women. If each historical event, election, and obituary was centered around a woman, perhaps that was due to asexual reproduction and a dominant gene. Historians and anthropologists however believe otherwise, claiming that the cultural gender roles of the tribe that arrived on the island likely simply regarded everyone as women, regardless of sex. Several sculptures and drawings from old society depict male genitalia nearly as prominently as they depict female genitalia. Of course, further rebuttals have been cast between the believers and the non-believers, but to write out the whole argument would be unnecessary and convoluted. 

Instead, we should move on to the land itself. Sunil’s early theory of a land untouched by man was accepted for many years. The creatures and animals were of a kind not documented or seen by anyone in the nation before. Even once contact had been re-established with exterior nations, the living things of Thousand Branches were in a class entirely their own. In addition, the habitat seemed perfectly balanced and devoid of human structure. That theory prevailed until just the last hundred or so years when a foreigner had arrived in the land and was shocked to discover high levels of radiation across the entire country and even into the woods beyond. The question became: how can such levels of radiation exist in a land that was thought to be never habited? An early theory was that deep veins of radioactive material existed beneath the land but nuclear scientists brought in from outside the nation quickly dismissed that theory as impossible. The radioactivity present in the nation clearly had enough power once upon a time to mutate the creatures and plants of the land. Some trees had even evolved to use radiation as part of their photosynthesis process. That kind of radiation could only be caused by fallout and fallout necessitated the existence of some nation before this one many years ago. As the nuclear scientists explained the effects of nuclear fallout on a region, more parts of the story clicked into place. The psychological and biochemical effects on bodies, brains, and hormones could have been a partial cause of the insanity that grew in Sunil’s journals and the mental health issues that have plagued the nation for many years. The mutations and odd creatures had evolved and changed over many years in a unique environment. The long-time presence of cancers and thyroid problems that had baffled medical scientists for years could finally be explained.

A launch in nuclear research began in the nation, young and old being sent to foreign schools across the world in search of more research into fallout. Some wanted to know where the fallout had come from and instead opted to become foreign historians or diplomats. Others wanted to test the radiation and whether it was still affecting the population today. Even the ones who disagreed with many of the radioactive theories wanted to prove it was wrong and ventured out to schools of often dubious credibility. Today, a lab exists in the capital dedicated entirely to a cure for radiation sickness and to mitigating and blocking the risks associated with living in a land fraught with a new danger. And tomorrow, citizens of Thousand Branches look to a brighter future and further cooperation with outside nations, if they could only get people to come visit.

Obvs seeking any sort of critique or ideas from folks ^^ Always looking for ways to improve upon my ideas! Also want to know if this idea is acceptable/approvable by the folks in charge. Thanks all!

Secretary-General Charles Danton walked to the podium as the assembled delegates shuffled to their seats, briefcases and folders in their hands. "Welcome back, everyone. I hereby call this session of the League of IDU Nations Security Council to order. I suggest that we get right to the debate, as we have countless other matters to discuss."

"The first topic of discussion for today was proposed by the honorable delegates from Huenya. It concerns the territory that has been labeled 'Western Xiomera,' and if the annexation of that land by the Xiomeran Empire was a violation of the Jinyu Agreement. In addition, the discussion is also meant to address, and I quote, 'Xiomeran Military Adventurism.' I will now cede the floor to the delegation from Huenya if they would like to make an opening statement."

PREVIOUSLY in the IDU…
 
“We both know that I could kill all of you before you’d even blinked. If I wanted you dead, you would be, Councillor Pierre,” Zichitla said calmly. “I respect you, and I am loyal to the Matriarchy, I swear to you. I am telling you, as the expert on this matter, what you are about to do will risk the security of yourselves and this country.” (Artists of Progress, 17 Oct 2020)
 
*
 
“You’re really an Aurora?” one of the guards asked her eventually as they walked, blurting the question out like it couldn’t be held back.
 
“I am,” she confirmed, smiling at the guard. “I am of Kerlile, as it should be, not as it has become. Don’t worry, I won’t be any trouble for you, a cell is as good a place as any to hide from the coming destruction.” (Artists of Progress, 17 Oct 2020)
 
*
 
“I am your only hope at freedom, Aurora. If I grant you your freedom, I want to know you will pay your debt to me.”
 
“No,” Zichitla said simply. (Artists of Progress, 15 Nov 2020)
 
*
 
“You lied to us,” she continued, to the walls, “and said we were safe here, that we wouldn’t be punished for our perceived failure. You took us as children and moulded us into weapons to serve your own purposes, stealing our lives, and you wonder why so many of us cannot adjust to what you consider normal afterwards. And now you will take my life, again, not as punishment but because you fear I am right.” (Secrets of the Council, 20 Dec 2020)
 
*
 
The woman in the office in front of her stood up, and spun around, alarmed. Zichitla raised her gun, and shot the woman in the head, killing her instantly.
 
“That’s for what you did to Nikita,” she whispered to herself, memories running unbidden through her mind. (Secrets of the Council, 21 Dec 2020)
 
*
 
"We have reason to believe Zichitla poses a threat not only to Kerlile, but globally," Arnott took over, glancing sharply at Porter. "We do not presently know where she is, how many false identities she has, or what she is up to. What we do know is that she has attempted to recruit several of her former colleagues in the Aurora Programme to join some kind of, well, it appears to be some kind of apocalyptic cult." (The Second Tour, 29 Oct 2022)

PREVIOUSLY

Jointly written with Xiomera

Yousef Chaher, José, Cranston, Citlalnite, and Tlotli the parrot were all quite relieved that their three months in a Saladian jail were now over. As they signed the paperwork for their release and had their belongings returned, José was already cooking up his next scheme.

“Nah, I’m going legit,” he told the others as an official from the Salad Land Police Service pointed at another line for his signature. “Fake vegetables made of meat! Think about it; you get fake meat made of vegetables; why shouldn’t you get fake veg made of meat?”

“Arrr walk the plank,” squawked Tlotli.

“I agree with the parrot,” Yousef mumbled.

Once the paperwork was finished, they were led to the exit and swiftly deposited back into the streets of Port Salad, with instructions to leave the country within ten days. Tlotli flew up into the air in joy and glided in circles as José attempted to recruit Cranston and Citlalnite into his “carnivore vegetables” scheme. Yousef was about ready to slap one of them after three months in jail, and he planned to get as far away as fast as possible from the others.

Before he could, however, a lizard leapt out of a nearby bush onto Yousef’s chest and bit him hard on the lips, in a grotesque parody of a kiss.

“What the-” Yousef shouted, falling over onto his back in a struggle to get the bitey lizard off of him. As he fell, he caught the eye of one of the police officers… who promptly slammed and locked the door behind him.

Yousef wrestled with the lizard, whose jaws continued to move in its attempts to bite once more. Citlalnite turned and ran away, with Tlotli flying off after him. José began to whoop and cheer on Yousef in the fight, offering to take bets on who would win from passers-by. Cranston leaned over and plucked the lizard off of Yousef, and was about to snap its neck, when a man ran up shouting in Persian.

“What is going on!?” Yousef gasped.

“No! Do not kill it, please!” the man begged. Up close, the gang could see that he was dressed in the uniform of a royal courier from Zargothrax. “That lizard is the property of King Shapur! Give me, please!”

“Cool,” José said, appraising the lizard, which was being restrained quite effectively by Cranston. “Zargothrax is a great place for business! I was there a few years back with… a florist. Yeah, a florist.”

“Please give me the lizard!” the courier begged. “His Majesty is already frustrated with the delays. The Saladians, they will not allow us to leave.”

“Tell me about it,” Citlalnite said, appearing again behind where Yousef was sitting. He was now holding a giant net, and Tlotli was perched on his shoulder.

It was at this point that the door to the jail opened again, and several police officers came out. "One of those dammed lizards again," the officer in charge muttered under his breath. "I thought you lot were rounding them up," he said with a displeased look at the courier.

“We are trying!” the courier wailed. “They enjoy the taste of Thraxian blood.”

“I don’t think it depends what nationality you are,” Yousef pointed out, wiping blood off his face from where the lizard attacked.

“We’ll help you catch the lizards!” José said cheerily.

“José!!” shouted Yousef and Citlatlnite at the same time. Cranston just glared.

“As much as we’d love to,” Yousef lied,  “We’ve been told to leave the country. So, we better be going! Good luck with your lizards!”

The police officer paused, hand holding his chin. "Hmm. We could use some more hands rounding up these little bastards," he mused. "Gentlemen, your friend had an excellent suggestion. Consider yourselves drafted into the Salad Land Lizard Capture Service. Something I just thought up." He beamed at his colleagues. "Doesn't that sound nice and official?"

"Oh, it's splendid," one of the other policemen said. "That's quick thinking there. You might even get that promotion you were wanting when the Commissioner hears about it!" The officer in charge's smile grew even wider at that thought.

Yousef opened his mouth to speak, but then decided better of it. Citlalnite let out a stream of what was probably a string of profanity, but since it was in Huenyan, nobody else present understood exactly what he’d said.

“Cool, let’s get those bitey boys!” José grinned.

“Shiver me timbers,” Tlotli squawked.

The next issue of The North Star can be viewed here.

Letter from Doatia's delegation in Roucourt:

Dear LIDUN members,

Doatia appreciates your concerns regarding the situation in Roucourt. Civil wars are messy, and the loss of any life is too much. Perhaps it's too little too late, as LIDUN would've originally allowed Roucourt to be taken over by the extremist PNDS, or allowed the even more insane ARL to make gains. 

In the effort of transparency, Doatia has worked out a deal with Xiomera and Roucourt, the two already having established relations, before moving forward with it's military commitments. The agreement, summarized, establishes a new trade agreement between Xiomera, Roucourt and Doatia. It allows Xiomera to lease a military base in Roucourt and Doatia to construct and lease a military academy, and share control with Xiomera and Roucourt. Among other things, Doatia convinced Xiomera to "not obstruct" democratic efforts and progress in Roucourt, and it also authorized Doatia's use of ground forces. 

It was our intention to retake hostile territory asap, reflected in the large deployment of troops. However, after a discussion with the government of Roucourt, they've asked the Doatian Armed Forces (DAF) to only deploy half of it's dedicated troops, 50,000, and place the other half on standby in Doatia.

I'd also like to make clear, in response to concerns of Doatia's intentions, upon the restoration of peace and stabilization of Roucourt, and the establishment of a new government, we're committed to withdrawing a minimum of 75% of our assets in Roucourt at the time. The remaining 25% are prepared to stay, to help in reconstruction efforts. 

Furthermore, Doatia, the World Hope Foundation, and Queen Aiyisha's monarch fund is investing significant amounts to humanitarian aid, the transportation and housing of refugees, jobs training and education programs, and beginning reconstruction efforts. 

To appease some LIDUN members concerns, Queen Aiyisha invites LIDUN members to send small delegations to join her delegation in Roucourt, where she is negotiating the setup of the new government, volunteering, and visiting war-torn areas. Delegates would be restricted to Roucourt-controlled areas and non-conflict zones, and under the protection of the DAF.

Put action behind your words and support peace and stability in Roucourt.

Thank you, 
Doatia's Delegation in Roucourt