05-16-2018, 09:31 AM
Foreign Minister Svein Hellvik awoke startled. "Butterflies," he said and looked around himself bewildered. He had fallen asleep on his office couch again. Was it morning? Had he slept all through the night? He squinted towards the windows while fumbling for his spectacles, but the blinds were drawn and the glasses nowhere to be seen. He moved towards his desk, nearly tripping over his chair in the process. Having regained his composure, he eventually sat down, feeling tired.
Unlike in many other countries, where the Ministry of Foreign Affairs traditionally was a position of prestige and importance, in Gnejs it occupied the very lower tiers of ministerial hierarchy. Apart from a brief surge in popularity for international relations during the 2015-2017 grand coalition government between the Unionists and the Moderate Party ? headed by the notorious internationalist Arne Vreeswijk ? the old Unionist slogan "A rock sustains itself" was still very much a guiding philosophy underlying most facets of Gnejsian political life and policy. This was more true than ever after the Unionists managed to achieve a parliamentary majority backed by the agrarian Centrist Party following the 2017 election.
Hellvik was an old man. A hero of the 1970's and 1980's, when he had served as head of the Ministry of Infrastructure and among other things overseen the massive developments of the northern and coastal train corridors. Now in his 90's, he had served as Foreign Minister for nearly a year. It was Tangeus Oxwald, the Unionist Prime Minister, who had asked him to head the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Partly as a way of rewarding an old hero of the Union, partly (but perhaps mostly) as a way of showing that the proactive policies of his predecessor - Ronja Bj?rneboe of the Moderate Party - had merely been an anachronism.
As per Unionist tradition, the position of the current Foreign Minister was once again a weak one, wielding virtually no influence or authority expect as a part of collegial government decisions, mostly relegated to symbolic appearances and administratively overseeing what was in all likelihood the smallest diplomatic corps in the IDU. Traditionally, foreign posts were not looked upon as an honour. Put bluntly, it was more of a punishment, put mildly it was a convenient way of dispensing with slightly uncomfortable elements within the party lines.
Hellvik got up, moved towards his office kitchenette, and proceeded to put the kettle on. While waiting for the water to start boiling, he returned to his desk and picked up a heavy stack of papers. It was a collection of the daily briefings his advisors delivered every morning. It contained collected and analysed information concerning matters in the region, and the occasional report from the Union's WA-delegation. He leafed through the thick stack, and started feeling confused. "Why are there so many of them? What day is this?" he thought to himself. The water started boiling, but Hellvik was lost in thought. "I dreamed. Butterflies. You can't hold onto them by force; their wings are fragile, they will break and die." The hissing of water splashing on the hot stove snapped him out of his thoughts.
He filled his mug with hot water and put a bag in it. After sitting down at his desk again, he continued looking through his briefings. Suddenly he stopped abruptly at the sight of a picture of the Lauchenoirian flag. "Butterflies!" he exclaimed. He started scanning the document. Without his glasses, he was not far from blind, so he struggled to make out the words.
" ... the people ... suffered ... recent change ... opportunity ... Aeluria ... independence ..."
"Aeluria," he said. "An island of butterflies. Fragile." Without any real conscious idea of what he was doing, Hellvik grabbed his fountainpen and a sheet of paper, and started writing.
"Comrades of Aeluria,*
I have been made aware of your recent ascendance, and I wish to congratulate you. It is imperative that tender butterflies are not coerced, as any use of force will robe them not only of their wings, but also of their very lives. The Rock of the East will always accommodate those who needs a place to rest their weary wings and decide for themselves their own route when fluttering through existence. Quantum Satis.
In friendship,
Svein Hellvik,
Foreign Minister of the Prosaic Union of Gnejs."
He put the paper in an envelope, and grabbed one of the stones he had on his office desk and slipped it in there as well before sealing it. He got to his feet, and as he started walking towards the door, it suddenly opened and his young aide August Fjordvang came in.
"Good morning, minister," he said and smiled. "Late night again?"
"Yea, it appears so," said Hellvik. "But now, please make sure that this letter is sent to whoever rules the butterflies of Aeluria"
"Aeluria? In Lauchenoiria? But why?"
"Just do it, Fjordvang, it is imperative that it reaches the King of Butterflies as soon as possible."
"Very well, Minister, I shall see to it."
*Comrade is a common way of greeting friends in the Prosaic Union. It does not hold connotations to communist leanings within Gnejs; it's usage is common among most people, also those of a more conservative or liberal disposition.
Unlike in many other countries, where the Ministry of Foreign Affairs traditionally was a position of prestige and importance, in Gnejs it occupied the very lower tiers of ministerial hierarchy. Apart from a brief surge in popularity for international relations during the 2015-2017 grand coalition government between the Unionists and the Moderate Party ? headed by the notorious internationalist Arne Vreeswijk ? the old Unionist slogan "A rock sustains itself" was still very much a guiding philosophy underlying most facets of Gnejsian political life and policy. This was more true than ever after the Unionists managed to achieve a parliamentary majority backed by the agrarian Centrist Party following the 2017 election.
Hellvik was an old man. A hero of the 1970's and 1980's, when he had served as head of the Ministry of Infrastructure and among other things overseen the massive developments of the northern and coastal train corridors. Now in his 90's, he had served as Foreign Minister for nearly a year. It was Tangeus Oxwald, the Unionist Prime Minister, who had asked him to head the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Partly as a way of rewarding an old hero of the Union, partly (but perhaps mostly) as a way of showing that the proactive policies of his predecessor - Ronja Bj?rneboe of the Moderate Party - had merely been an anachronism.
As per Unionist tradition, the position of the current Foreign Minister was once again a weak one, wielding virtually no influence or authority expect as a part of collegial government decisions, mostly relegated to symbolic appearances and administratively overseeing what was in all likelihood the smallest diplomatic corps in the IDU. Traditionally, foreign posts were not looked upon as an honour. Put bluntly, it was more of a punishment, put mildly it was a convenient way of dispensing with slightly uncomfortable elements within the party lines.
Hellvik got up, moved towards his office kitchenette, and proceeded to put the kettle on. While waiting for the water to start boiling, he returned to his desk and picked up a heavy stack of papers. It was a collection of the daily briefings his advisors delivered every morning. It contained collected and analysed information concerning matters in the region, and the occasional report from the Union's WA-delegation. He leafed through the thick stack, and started feeling confused. "Why are there so many of them? What day is this?" he thought to himself. The water started boiling, but Hellvik was lost in thought. "I dreamed. Butterflies. You can't hold onto them by force; their wings are fragile, they will break and die." The hissing of water splashing on the hot stove snapped him out of his thoughts.
He filled his mug with hot water and put a bag in it. After sitting down at his desk again, he continued looking through his briefings. Suddenly he stopped abruptly at the sight of a picture of the Lauchenoirian flag. "Butterflies!" he exclaimed. He started scanning the document. Without his glasses, he was not far from blind, so he struggled to make out the words.
" ... the people ... suffered ... recent change ... opportunity ... Aeluria ... independence ..."
"Aeluria," he said. "An island of butterflies. Fragile." Without any real conscious idea of what he was doing, Hellvik grabbed his fountainpen and a sheet of paper, and started writing.
"Comrades of Aeluria,*
I have been made aware of your recent ascendance, and I wish to congratulate you. It is imperative that tender butterflies are not coerced, as any use of force will robe them not only of their wings, but also of their very lives. The Rock of the East will always accommodate those who needs a place to rest their weary wings and decide for themselves their own route when fluttering through existence. Quantum Satis.
In friendship,
Svein Hellvik,
Foreign Minister of the Prosaic Union of Gnejs."
He put the paper in an envelope, and grabbed one of the stones he had on his office desk and slipped it in there as well before sealing it. He got to his feet, and as he started walking towards the door, it suddenly opened and his young aide August Fjordvang came in.
"Good morning, minister," he said and smiled. "Late night again?"
"Yea, it appears so," said Hellvik. "But now, please make sure that this letter is sent to whoever rules the butterflies of Aeluria"
"Aeluria? In Lauchenoiria? But why?"
"Just do it, Fjordvang, it is imperative that it reaches the King of Butterflies as soon as possible."
"Very well, Minister, I shall see to it."
*Comrade is a common way of greeting friends in the Prosaic Union. It does not hold connotations to communist leanings within Gnejs; it's usage is common among most people, also those of a more conservative or liberal disposition.