08-01-2019, 07:13 PM
Cassious' Declaration
![[Image: 220px-Pierre_Elliot_Trudeau-2.jpg]](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3a/Pierre_Elliot_Trudeau-2.jpg/220px-Pierre_Elliot_Trudeau-2.jpg)
July 24th
1991
9:00 PM
Zian Presidential Mansion, Tofino, Zamastan
Walking to the podium where only days ago, he stood and told the Zamastanian people and the world that he would not stand for Governor Smith’s actions, he had to now announce something far more solemn.
President Castovia stepped to the red spruce stand, with the seal of the President displayed across the front, and he took in a deep breath. He’d made remarks like this too often in the Vulkaria years. Deep down, he knew that these announcements combined would define his Presidency. Not his social works, not his amendments stretching the protection of minorities, not the profound care that he and the country knew he had, but he feared that historians would look at him only for his wars.
The camera flickered on, a red light indicating the broadcast had begun. Cassious’ director of communications raised his hand, letting the President know he could begin.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my fellow Zamastanians. I come to you tonight with solemn and deep pain in my heart. Yesterday morning, over the Strait of St. Peter off the coast of the Province of Bjeorg, a Zamastanian fighter was shot down by an enemy missile. The pilot attempted to reject, but sadly was unable to do so, and perished with the craft.” Cassious hadn’t taken the time to emotionally process the loss of another service member, and the feelings began to leak from his stern posture. He stammered his lines, something he had never done before.
“He… the pilot, lieutenant Larr Tevis was killed…” Cassious paused, his director looking at him quizzically at first, and then with a more realized impression. “Larr Tevis was killed in the service of his nation,” the President continued. “He was killed during a routine intelligence gathering mission. The greatest tragedy of all is that lieutenant Tevis was the first casualty of this conflict: we did not drop bombs or fire our guns, but the Bjeorg revolutionaries took it upon themselves to kill our men.”
Cassious had his energy back. The stern, aggressive posture he was known for globally was beginning to return. “While we as a nation will mourn our fallen soldier, we will continue the fight in his memory. No matter how much they preach it, these monsters do not believe in true freedom, true liberty, or true ideology.”
“We, as a people, will continue the fight. We, as a nation, will be victorious. We have faced hardship before, and we can do it again. On my orders,” Cassious once again halted, looked down and then back up directly into the camera. He would not relent. “The Imperial Republic of Zamastan’s military will begin strikes against the insurgent installations of the Smith regime in Bjeorg. These will be carefully targeted actions, and are designed to disrupt the use of Bjeorg as a terrorist base of operations that Governor Brian Smith has turned it into.
We are joined in this operation friend, Libertas Omnium Maximus. This is a fight in their land, on their request, and this is a fight for the survival of their history.”
The director gave the President a thumbs up from behind the camera. It was time for Cassious to appeal to emotions once more. “I know many Zamastanians feel fear, anger, and pain today. In the days ahead, our patience will be one of our strengths and one of our struggles. We will need our patience and understanding that it will take time to achieve our goals, patience in all the sacrifices that may come. Today, those sacrifices are being made by members of our armed forces who now defend us so far from home, and by their proud and worried families.”
Thank you, and God bless Zamastan, our soldiers, and our strong, devoted, and endeavored people.”
Cassious placed his hand on his heart and nodded to the camera, as the President would always do following an address, as is customary.
The camera flicked off, and the director pumped his hand in the air. “We’re done. Thank you, Mister President.”
Cassious walked out of the podium room and to the Gaviria Room, where his generals were waiting. Closing the door behind him, he gestured to the map that had been displayed on the wall.
“Call up President Paterson. We’re taking the tunnel in the next three days or we bomb it.”
“Sir, that would block a direct access for our ground forces.”
“The insurgents will try to blow it regardless, and we have landing craft that can take the beach heads. This is an ultimatum for Smith’s forces. Pull up options for a landing.”
“Yessir.”
Another general chimed in. “Sir, there’s an option that includes taking the tunnel and landing troops at the same time.”
The President sat in his desk chair, lit a cigar, and moved it to his mouth. “Tell me.”
July 24th
1991
9:00 PM
Zian Presidential Mansion, Tofino, Zamastan
Walking to the podium where only days ago, he stood and told the Zamastanian people and the world that he would not stand for Governor Smith’s actions, he had to now announce something far more solemn.
President Castovia stepped to the red spruce stand, with the seal of the President displayed across the front, and he took in a deep breath. He’d made remarks like this too often in the Vulkaria years. Deep down, he knew that these announcements combined would define his Presidency. Not his social works, not his amendments stretching the protection of minorities, not the profound care that he and the country knew he had, but he feared that historians would look at him only for his wars.
The camera flickered on, a red light indicating the broadcast had begun. Cassious’ director of communications raised his hand, letting the President know he could begin.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my fellow Zamastanians. I come to you tonight with solemn and deep pain in my heart. Yesterday morning, over the Strait of St. Peter off the coast of the Province of Bjeorg, a Zamastanian fighter was shot down by an enemy missile. The pilot attempted to reject, but sadly was unable to do so, and perished with the craft.” Cassious hadn’t taken the time to emotionally process the loss of another service member, and the feelings began to leak from his stern posture. He stammered his lines, something he had never done before.
“He… the pilot, lieutenant Larr Tevis was killed…” Cassious paused, his director looking at him quizzically at first, and then with a more realized impression. “Larr Tevis was killed in the service of his nation,” the President continued. “He was killed during a routine intelligence gathering mission. The greatest tragedy of all is that lieutenant Tevis was the first casualty of this conflict: we did not drop bombs or fire our guns, but the Bjeorg revolutionaries took it upon themselves to kill our men.”
Cassious had his energy back. The stern, aggressive posture he was known for globally was beginning to return. “While we as a nation will mourn our fallen soldier, we will continue the fight in his memory. No matter how much they preach it, these monsters do not believe in true freedom, true liberty, or true ideology.”
“We, as a people, will continue the fight. We, as a nation, will be victorious. We have faced hardship before, and we can do it again. On my orders,” Cassious once again halted, looked down and then back up directly into the camera. He would not relent. “The Imperial Republic of Zamastan’s military will begin strikes against the insurgent installations of the Smith regime in Bjeorg. These will be carefully targeted actions, and are designed to disrupt the use of Bjeorg as a terrorist base of operations that Governor Brian Smith has turned it into.
We are joined in this operation friend, Libertas Omnium Maximus. This is a fight in their land, on their request, and this is a fight for the survival of their history.”
The director gave the President a thumbs up from behind the camera. It was time for Cassious to appeal to emotions once more. “I know many Zamastanians feel fear, anger, and pain today. In the days ahead, our patience will be one of our strengths and one of our struggles. We will need our patience and understanding that it will take time to achieve our goals, patience in all the sacrifices that may come. Today, those sacrifices are being made by members of our armed forces who now defend us so far from home, and by their proud and worried families.”
Thank you, and God bless Zamastan, our soldiers, and our strong, devoted, and endeavored people.”
Cassious placed his hand on his heart and nodded to the camera, as the President would always do following an address, as is customary.
The camera flicked off, and the director pumped his hand in the air. “We’re done. Thank you, Mister President.”
Cassious walked out of the podium room and to the Gaviria Room, where his generals were waiting. Closing the door behind him, he gestured to the map that had been displayed on the wall.
“Call up President Paterson. We’re taking the tunnel in the next three days or we bomb it.”
“Sir, that would block a direct access for our ground forces.”
“The insurgents will try to blow it regardless, and we have landing craft that can take the beach heads. This is an ultimatum for Smith’s forces. Pull up options for a landing.”
“Yessir.”
Another general chimed in. “Sir, there’s an option that includes taking the tunnel and landing troops at the same time.”
The President sat in his desk chair, lit a cigar, and moved it to his mouth. “Tell me.”