07-25-2019, 11:50 PM
Council of Kerlile Chamber – Grapevale, Kerlile
25th July 2019 – shortly after TRC verdicts announced
There was a silence in the Council chamber. Councillor Natalia Hart, devout follower of the Goddess, had finished confirming the verdicts and sentences handed out by the Truth & Reconciliation Commission. She stood with the paper in her hand, suddenly feeling very exposed. She wasn’t entirely sure Councillor Patel wouldn’t shoot the messenger – quite literally. After all, everyone in the room was armed.
“Frankly, that went better than I expected,” a voice said. Everyone turned towards Councillor Jennifer Hale. “I thought I was going to prison. And Pauline, you’re free – bet you didn’t expect that! I can accept a travel ban, though I’m going to be pushing you all even harder to drop that warrant for Alvarez’s arrest!”
The joke fell flat, everyone in the room too nervous to react. Hale had indeed been pressuring the Council to permit Josephine Alvarez, Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria (and Jennifer Hale’s wife) to enter Kerlile, despite an incident during the war where Alvarez had been accused of trying to assassinate President Greenwood.
“There will not be any trade deal with Laeral, that is certain,” Councillor Electra Georgiou said glumly. Georgiou had been looking forward to an increase in trade between other nations and Kerlile. She remained sitting with her back straight, surveying the room, but her shoulders sagged slightly.
“Is anyone else kind of surprised that Greenwood and Pierre got off?” mused Rosemary Arnott, the newest Councillor. The 19-year-old was the daughter of President Rebecca Arnott, and wasn’t exactly thrilled to have been dragged away from her university course to take her seat.
“Councillor Pierre and President Greenwood were lucky the patriarchal countries did not see fit to ruin their lives, girl. While this was unexpected, it is a result to be celebrated, and things should not have been allowed to get to this stage,” Councillor Lia Chiu said firmly. She did not like the way the young Rosemary acted; she felt it was not in keeping with the decorum expected from a Councillor of Kerlile.
Councillor Hart sat back down, and placed the papers with the TRC verdicts on the table. The Chamber fell silent for a moment longer, the Councillors all avoiding each other’s gazes. They had been anticipating this for a while, but now it was here, it felt rather surreal.
“I must admit, I am pleasantly surprised. This was not as terrible as I thought it would be,” mused Councillor Pauline Pierre. “Carmen, perhaps I will refrain from killing you after all.”
“How considerate,” Carmen Robinson said drily. Robinson had leaked the documents that Pierre had been convinced would spell her doom. Everyone in the room knew that Pierre wanted Robinson dead, and yet the pair somehow managed to sit in the same room every day. “Shame, really, I think you’d have enjoyed a Sanctarian prison.”
“Look, I think we can all agree that the trade restrictions are… unfortunate. But honestly? Only one of us is going to prison and that…” Hale trailed off, glancing around the Chamber. “Where did Anita go?”
The other Councillors looked at the empty seat engraved with the Patel family seal that Anita Patel’s grandmother had designed. Hale knew fine well that the founding mothers of Kerlile had designed family seals for the sole purpose of appearing pretentious and rich, though the rest of the Council tended to abide by the ceremonial traditions of Kerlile for no reason other than to, well, appear pretentious and rich.
“We’re going to have to find her,” said Rosemary Arnott, stating the obvious.
“She will spend the rest of her life in prison,” noted Hart. “If it was me, I would run.”
*
Outskirts of Grapevale, Kerlile
10 minutes later
Councillor Anita Patel was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. She had spent her life causing misery and destruction. By her own hand, she had killed dozens, and by her orders, hundreds if not more. She had always considered herself above the law – she was, after all, a Councillor of Kerlile.
Yet, it seemed like her crimes had finally caught up with her. When she had first read the Haven Accords, it had occurred to her that she ought to murder Jennifer Hale the moment an heir was born. Fortunately for Jennifer, by the time Amelia had been born, Patel had figured out that without a time machine, the death of Jennfier Hale would not solve her problems.
When the Council had outright refused to defy the Sanctarians, and had instead opted to cooperate fully with the Accords and all their constituent parts (including cooperating with the TRC), Anita Patel had been furious. She had taken it out on her staff – one of her servants ended up with two broken arms – much to their horror. Anita Patel was not a good person, that much everyone knew.
When she had heard her sentence of 20 years, she had slipped out of the Council Chamber, in the hope of escaping before they could extradite her to Sanctaria. She was presently in a car, being escorted by security loyal to her, rather than the government as a whole, to a hidden location in which nobody would be able to find her.
She had almost started to relax when her car was brought to a sudden halt. Dread crawled up her spine as she heard gunshots. She went for the door, but she opened it to find a police officer pointing a gun at her head.
“I am a Councillor of Kerlile! You will let me go immediately!” commanded Patel.
“The President has ordered you arrested, Councillor,” said the officer. She looked familiar. It was only upon closer examination that Patel noticed the similarities to Councillor Arnott. This officer was clearly some kind of cousin.
“I will have your head on a silver platter,” snarled Patel at the officer as she was forced from her vehicle. The officer impassively took out handcuffs, and grabbed one of Patel’s wrists. Patel looked down in horror as she was handcuffed and taken to a police vehicle. She was shoved inside, despite yelling and screaming at the officers.
“You’ll all end up in the Restricted Region! I’ll see to it that none of you live another year! Get your hands off me, if you want to keep them!”
She continued to yell as the car drove off, her cries becoming increasingly desperate. Soon the words trailed off and Patel realised she was sobbing. The tears rolled desperately down her cheeks as they travelled back to the city centre.
“Please, I don’t want to die in a cell,” she sobbed, but her captors didn’t listen to her. “Please!”
*
Arnott Residence in Grapevale, Kerlile
“We have Councillor Patel in custody, Madam President,” said a woman whose name President Rebecca Arnott couldn’t quite remember.
“Thank you for the information. That will be all,” responded Arnott. The woman bowed her head and left.
“You know, I think this will be good for us both,” mused Joanna Greenwood. She had arrived at the Arnott residence shortly after the verdicts had been announced, and invited herself in. Arnott had decided that refusing her predecessor would be a mistake – especially since said predecessor would not be spending the next couple of decades in prison.
“How so?” asked Arnott, pouring another glass of wine. She couldn’t cope with the company of the smug, condescending Joanna Greenwood without a little assistance.
“Well, I am, of course, not going to prison,” began Greenwood. Arnott suppressed a grimace. She had secretly looked forward to the day Greenwood was behind bars, not that she’d admit it to anyone. “Which is always a positive. And for you, you get to blame the Sanctarians when your trade policy is a disaster. Which, let us be honest, was always going to happen.”
“I resent that implication.”
“You know I speak the truth.”
The two presidents, current and former, sat in silence for a moment, then Greenwood stood and placed her glass back on the table.
“Well, thank you for the drink, Rebecca. I will be sure to call again soon, see if you need any assistance,” said Greenwood.
“There is really no need, I am quite capable of carrying out my duties,” replied Arnott sourly.
“No, no, I insist. I will see you tomorrow. Good day, Rebecca.”
“Good day, Joanna,” said Arnott, relieved that the older woman was leaving – at least for now.
25th July 2019 – shortly after TRC verdicts announced
There was a silence in the Council chamber. Councillor Natalia Hart, devout follower of the Goddess, had finished confirming the verdicts and sentences handed out by the Truth & Reconciliation Commission. She stood with the paper in her hand, suddenly feeling very exposed. She wasn’t entirely sure Councillor Patel wouldn’t shoot the messenger – quite literally. After all, everyone in the room was armed.
“Frankly, that went better than I expected,” a voice said. Everyone turned towards Councillor Jennifer Hale. “I thought I was going to prison. And Pauline, you’re free – bet you didn’t expect that! I can accept a travel ban, though I’m going to be pushing you all even harder to drop that warrant for Alvarez’s arrest!”
The joke fell flat, everyone in the room too nervous to react. Hale had indeed been pressuring the Council to permit Josephine Alvarez, Prime Minister of Lauchenoiria (and Jennifer Hale’s wife) to enter Kerlile, despite an incident during the war where Alvarez had been accused of trying to assassinate President Greenwood.
“There will not be any trade deal with Laeral, that is certain,” Councillor Electra Georgiou said glumly. Georgiou had been looking forward to an increase in trade between other nations and Kerlile. She remained sitting with her back straight, surveying the room, but her shoulders sagged slightly.
“Is anyone else kind of surprised that Greenwood and Pierre got off?” mused Rosemary Arnott, the newest Councillor. The 19-year-old was the daughter of President Rebecca Arnott, and wasn’t exactly thrilled to have been dragged away from her university course to take her seat.
“Councillor Pierre and President Greenwood were lucky the patriarchal countries did not see fit to ruin their lives, girl. While this was unexpected, it is a result to be celebrated, and things should not have been allowed to get to this stage,” Councillor Lia Chiu said firmly. She did not like the way the young Rosemary acted; she felt it was not in keeping with the decorum expected from a Councillor of Kerlile.
Councillor Hart sat back down, and placed the papers with the TRC verdicts on the table. The Chamber fell silent for a moment longer, the Councillors all avoiding each other’s gazes. They had been anticipating this for a while, but now it was here, it felt rather surreal.
“I must admit, I am pleasantly surprised. This was not as terrible as I thought it would be,” mused Councillor Pauline Pierre. “Carmen, perhaps I will refrain from killing you after all.”
“How considerate,” Carmen Robinson said drily. Robinson had leaked the documents that Pierre had been convinced would spell her doom. Everyone in the room knew that Pierre wanted Robinson dead, and yet the pair somehow managed to sit in the same room every day. “Shame, really, I think you’d have enjoyed a Sanctarian prison.”
“Look, I think we can all agree that the trade restrictions are… unfortunate. But honestly? Only one of us is going to prison and that…” Hale trailed off, glancing around the Chamber. “Where did Anita go?”
The other Councillors looked at the empty seat engraved with the Patel family seal that Anita Patel’s grandmother had designed. Hale knew fine well that the founding mothers of Kerlile had designed family seals for the sole purpose of appearing pretentious and rich, though the rest of the Council tended to abide by the ceremonial traditions of Kerlile for no reason other than to, well, appear pretentious and rich.
“We’re going to have to find her,” said Rosemary Arnott, stating the obvious.
“She will spend the rest of her life in prison,” noted Hart. “If it was me, I would run.”
*
Outskirts of Grapevale, Kerlile
10 minutes later
Councillor Anita Patel was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. She had spent her life causing misery and destruction. By her own hand, she had killed dozens, and by her orders, hundreds if not more. She had always considered herself above the law – she was, after all, a Councillor of Kerlile.
Yet, it seemed like her crimes had finally caught up with her. When she had first read the Haven Accords, it had occurred to her that she ought to murder Jennifer Hale the moment an heir was born. Fortunately for Jennifer, by the time Amelia had been born, Patel had figured out that without a time machine, the death of Jennfier Hale would not solve her problems.
When the Council had outright refused to defy the Sanctarians, and had instead opted to cooperate fully with the Accords and all their constituent parts (including cooperating with the TRC), Anita Patel had been furious. She had taken it out on her staff – one of her servants ended up with two broken arms – much to their horror. Anita Patel was not a good person, that much everyone knew.
When she had heard her sentence of 20 years, she had slipped out of the Council Chamber, in the hope of escaping before they could extradite her to Sanctaria. She was presently in a car, being escorted by security loyal to her, rather than the government as a whole, to a hidden location in which nobody would be able to find her.
She had almost started to relax when her car was brought to a sudden halt. Dread crawled up her spine as she heard gunshots. She went for the door, but she opened it to find a police officer pointing a gun at her head.
“I am a Councillor of Kerlile! You will let me go immediately!” commanded Patel.
“The President has ordered you arrested, Councillor,” said the officer. She looked familiar. It was only upon closer examination that Patel noticed the similarities to Councillor Arnott. This officer was clearly some kind of cousin.
“I will have your head on a silver platter,” snarled Patel at the officer as she was forced from her vehicle. The officer impassively took out handcuffs, and grabbed one of Patel’s wrists. Patel looked down in horror as she was handcuffed and taken to a police vehicle. She was shoved inside, despite yelling and screaming at the officers.
“You’ll all end up in the Restricted Region! I’ll see to it that none of you live another year! Get your hands off me, if you want to keep them!”
She continued to yell as the car drove off, her cries becoming increasingly desperate. Soon the words trailed off and Patel realised she was sobbing. The tears rolled desperately down her cheeks as they travelled back to the city centre.
“Please, I don’t want to die in a cell,” she sobbed, but her captors didn’t listen to her. “Please!”
*
Arnott Residence in Grapevale, Kerlile
“We have Councillor Patel in custody, Madam President,” said a woman whose name President Rebecca Arnott couldn’t quite remember.
“Thank you for the information. That will be all,” responded Arnott. The woman bowed her head and left.
“You know, I think this will be good for us both,” mused Joanna Greenwood. She had arrived at the Arnott residence shortly after the verdicts had been announced, and invited herself in. Arnott had decided that refusing her predecessor would be a mistake – especially since said predecessor would not be spending the next couple of decades in prison.
“How so?” asked Arnott, pouring another glass of wine. She couldn’t cope with the company of the smug, condescending Joanna Greenwood without a little assistance.
“Well, I am, of course, not going to prison,” began Greenwood. Arnott suppressed a grimace. She had secretly looked forward to the day Greenwood was behind bars, not that she’d admit it to anyone. “Which is always a positive. And for you, you get to blame the Sanctarians when your trade policy is a disaster. Which, let us be honest, was always going to happen.”
“I resent that implication.”
“You know I speak the truth.”
The two presidents, current and former, sat in silence for a moment, then Greenwood stood and placed her glass back on the table.
“Well, thank you for the drink, Rebecca. I will be sure to call again soon, see if you need any assistance,” said Greenwood.
“There is really no need, I am quite capable of carrying out my duties,” replied Arnott sourly.
“No, no, I insist. I will see you tomorrow. Good day, Rebecca.”
“Good day, Joanna,” said Arnott, relieved that the older woman was leaving – at least for now.
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