01-03-2022, 12:13 AM
Patel Household, Kerlile
January 2022
When Nirmala Patel entered the suite of rooms assigned to her sister, she found Yamunda sitting with her feet up on a couch, surrounded by empty bottles of smuggled beer from Kvask. Her sister now held a glass full of wine, probably also smuggled from Kvask, sipping it while listening to an old CD player perched on the coffee table, the CD case open next to it informing Nirmala that her sister was listening to a variety of versions of the Kerlian national anthem.
“Happy freakin’ new year,” Yamunda slurred as Nirmala entered, shoved aside a discarded silk scarf ruined by a red wine stain, and sat down.
“I realise this is a hard day for you, for both of us, but you need to snap out of this melancholy and start attending family meetings,” Nirmala told her sister, her tone clipped with annoyance.
“What does it matter? Hale’s democrats are gonna win, we’ll end up colonised by Lauchenoiria or Sanctaria or Laeral or Eiria and the two of us will be dead. None of you have done anything to stop it,” Yamunda replied, sipping her glass and moving to turn the volume up on the CD player.
Nirmala reached out to grab her sister’s arm before she could move the control. “If you had been attending meetings, you would know why that assumption of yours is false.”
“You let my daughter into those meetings,” Yamunda accused, finally sitting up properly to glare at her sister. “That little piece of traitorous excrement I am ashamed to have birthed.”
“Reena may be naive, but that is to our advantage,” Nirmala sighed, sitting up straight and looking Yamunda directly in the eye. “She is useful to us. She would not spy for the family, granted, but that assumes she knows what she’s doing. If she believes us to be open to supporting her cause, she will tell us things believing that she is attempting recruitment, while in reality she is giving us vital information.”
“Oh, and I’m expected to believe you’re not secretly supportive of her cause? I haven’t seen you vote against these big reform bills; I haven’t seen you stand up and say anything, or try to do anything, or depose that power-hungry liar Arnott from her makeshift throne!”
“Again, if you attended meetings, you would know our strategy. Reform is not about removing our power, it is about retaining it.”
“Hah!” snorted Yamunda. “Cognitive dissonance worthy of a patriarchal king.”
“You do not listen,” Nirmala said calmly. “You think I am not angry, that I do not wish to avenge our mother. I do, I assure you. But we have to be smart about this. The TRC showed where we were vulnerable; it showed us that the patriarchal democracies are indeed willing to act if they’re pushed too hard. We need to be more subtle.”
“Fine. Go on, explain your so-called strategy,” Yamunda grumbled. “I have the feeling you won’t leave me alone until you do so.”
“It’s simple: the eyes of the world are on us. Our economy is falling to pieces, we are reliant on smugglers,” she gestured at the empty beer bottles, “and our people are on the verge of rising up thanks to the food prices and rationing system. The only thing keeping us from fighting another civil war is that those agitators are placated by seeing the so-called reformists having power. Now, I don’t support their aims, but I must confess that their propaganda strategy is a beautiful piece of work.”
“If the people rise up, we should do as we have done before. Crush the misogynists, destroy the resistance mercilessly and make examples of those who would collapse what we have built,” scoffed Yamunda.
“And thus follows the invasion you are so worried about,” Nirmala remarked. “It is not a question of what, dear sister. It is a question of when. You and I both agree that the reformists cannot be allowed to retain control. Yet, I find it helpful to allow them to believe they have control for the time being. It keeps the foreigners happy, so their armies stay home. It keeps the agitators happy, and makes them feel safe enough to reveal who they are. And so we keep that information, we note their names, and when the watchful eyes turn away…”
“You’re using the reformists as a smokescreen,” Yamunda said as it dawned on her. “So that the patriarchal countries focus on somewhere else.”
“And so that our enemies reveal themselves. If we had cracked down on the Reform Party the week they revealed themselves, we would know only those most fervent supporters. But it has been the better part of two years now; those cautious folk are finally beginning to open up. So now we know not only those imminent threats, but the ones brewing under the surface. And while the traitors reveal themselves, those loyal to the Matriarchy have become more staunch in their support, more willing to act to protect what they love.”
“So you anticipate another civil war?” asked Yamunda.
“It has been brewing for some time, according to my intelligence. The matter of Carmen Robinson and her triple-agent Auroras only confirms it. Allowing the reformists to obtain power at this time serves a threefold purpose: delay the war, identify the key players on both sides in advance, and keep the patriarchy off our backs. We need time and information if we want to ensure that the conflict is short. And it must be short.”
“The under-population problem?”
“That, and the eyes of the patriarchy. Civil conflict invites opportunists. Just look at both Lauchenoiria and Xiomera, at the Aurian blockade, at every recent example. We do not want a war; we want to be able to round up and detain those who would stand against us in the very first days so we can call it a terrorist incident and move on. We want to show those on the fence that the power rests with us and that the democrats are fools with no strategy and no ability to protect those who side with them. And when we’ve stamped out all those holding these beliefs, then and only then will the women’s revolution be safe.”
“But how do you intend to get power back from the reformists once they’ve outlived their welcome? I understand your plan now, but they’ve been consolidating power since 2019 and it won’t be so easy.”
“Have they?” Nirmala’s eyes sparkled. “Or have we only made it look like that? I think you’ll find there are far fewer reformists on the Council than it looks. My colleagues will quickly jump the fence to save their own skins. Arnott and Georgiou will return to us; Pierre will drop this absurd trauma response to her daughter’s kidnapping; and we will hang Hale’s body from the Grapevale Clocktower as a warning to all those who would oppose us.”
“You assume everything will go smoothly; this plan of yours seems to have way too many things that can go wrong.”
“And that is why we have backup plans.”
“What are those?”
“Come to the family meetings, and you’ll find out,” winked Nirmala, pouring herself some of her sister’s wine after eventually finding the bottle underneath a discarded 2021 calendar.
“You’re insufferable,” Yamunda rolled her eyes and shook her head, but then looked up with a slight smile. “Fine, I’ll come to your boring meetings. But this better end up with a Patel President at the end of it, and I want a meeting with Hale while she’s still alive. Alone, in my former office in the Restricted Region.”
“That can be arranged,” Nirmala smiled evilly. “Cheers,” she said, tapping her glass to her sister’s, and they both sipped, daydreaming about the day when the Matriarchy of Kerlile would once again be strong.
January 2022
When Nirmala Patel entered the suite of rooms assigned to her sister, she found Yamunda sitting with her feet up on a couch, surrounded by empty bottles of smuggled beer from Kvask. Her sister now held a glass full of wine, probably also smuggled from Kvask, sipping it while listening to an old CD player perched on the coffee table, the CD case open next to it informing Nirmala that her sister was listening to a variety of versions of the Kerlian national anthem.
“Happy freakin’ new year,” Yamunda slurred as Nirmala entered, shoved aside a discarded silk scarf ruined by a red wine stain, and sat down.
“I realise this is a hard day for you, for both of us, but you need to snap out of this melancholy and start attending family meetings,” Nirmala told her sister, her tone clipped with annoyance.
“What does it matter? Hale’s democrats are gonna win, we’ll end up colonised by Lauchenoiria or Sanctaria or Laeral or Eiria and the two of us will be dead. None of you have done anything to stop it,” Yamunda replied, sipping her glass and moving to turn the volume up on the CD player.
Nirmala reached out to grab her sister’s arm before she could move the control. “If you had been attending meetings, you would know why that assumption of yours is false.”
“You let my daughter into those meetings,” Yamunda accused, finally sitting up properly to glare at her sister. “That little piece of traitorous excrement I am ashamed to have birthed.”
“Reena may be naive, but that is to our advantage,” Nirmala sighed, sitting up straight and looking Yamunda directly in the eye. “She is useful to us. She would not spy for the family, granted, but that assumes she knows what she’s doing. If she believes us to be open to supporting her cause, she will tell us things believing that she is attempting recruitment, while in reality she is giving us vital information.”
“Oh, and I’m expected to believe you’re not secretly supportive of her cause? I haven’t seen you vote against these big reform bills; I haven’t seen you stand up and say anything, or try to do anything, or depose that power-hungry liar Arnott from her makeshift throne!”
“Again, if you attended meetings, you would know our strategy. Reform is not about removing our power, it is about retaining it.”
“Hah!” snorted Yamunda. “Cognitive dissonance worthy of a patriarchal king.”
“You do not listen,” Nirmala said calmly. “You think I am not angry, that I do not wish to avenge our mother. I do, I assure you. But we have to be smart about this. The TRC showed where we were vulnerable; it showed us that the patriarchal democracies are indeed willing to act if they’re pushed too hard. We need to be more subtle.”
“Fine. Go on, explain your so-called strategy,” Yamunda grumbled. “I have the feeling you won’t leave me alone until you do so.”
“It’s simple: the eyes of the world are on us. Our economy is falling to pieces, we are reliant on smugglers,” she gestured at the empty beer bottles, “and our people are on the verge of rising up thanks to the food prices and rationing system. The only thing keeping us from fighting another civil war is that those agitators are placated by seeing the so-called reformists having power. Now, I don’t support their aims, but I must confess that their propaganda strategy is a beautiful piece of work.”
“If the people rise up, we should do as we have done before. Crush the misogynists, destroy the resistance mercilessly and make examples of those who would collapse what we have built,” scoffed Yamunda.
“And thus follows the invasion you are so worried about,” Nirmala remarked. “It is not a question of what, dear sister. It is a question of when. You and I both agree that the reformists cannot be allowed to retain control. Yet, I find it helpful to allow them to believe they have control for the time being. It keeps the foreigners happy, so their armies stay home. It keeps the agitators happy, and makes them feel safe enough to reveal who they are. And so we keep that information, we note their names, and when the watchful eyes turn away…”
“You’re using the reformists as a smokescreen,” Yamunda said as it dawned on her. “So that the patriarchal countries focus on somewhere else.”
“And so that our enemies reveal themselves. If we had cracked down on the Reform Party the week they revealed themselves, we would know only those most fervent supporters. But it has been the better part of two years now; those cautious folk are finally beginning to open up. So now we know not only those imminent threats, but the ones brewing under the surface. And while the traitors reveal themselves, those loyal to the Matriarchy have become more staunch in their support, more willing to act to protect what they love.”
“So you anticipate another civil war?” asked Yamunda.
“It has been brewing for some time, according to my intelligence. The matter of Carmen Robinson and her triple-agent Auroras only confirms it. Allowing the reformists to obtain power at this time serves a threefold purpose: delay the war, identify the key players on both sides in advance, and keep the patriarchy off our backs. We need time and information if we want to ensure that the conflict is short. And it must be short.”
“The under-population problem?”
“That, and the eyes of the patriarchy. Civil conflict invites opportunists. Just look at both Lauchenoiria and Xiomera, at the Aurian blockade, at every recent example. We do not want a war; we want to be able to round up and detain those who would stand against us in the very first days so we can call it a terrorist incident and move on. We want to show those on the fence that the power rests with us and that the democrats are fools with no strategy and no ability to protect those who side with them. And when we’ve stamped out all those holding these beliefs, then and only then will the women’s revolution be safe.”
“But how do you intend to get power back from the reformists once they’ve outlived their welcome? I understand your plan now, but they’ve been consolidating power since 2019 and it won’t be so easy.”
“Have they?” Nirmala’s eyes sparkled. “Or have we only made it look like that? I think you’ll find there are far fewer reformists on the Council than it looks. My colleagues will quickly jump the fence to save their own skins. Arnott and Georgiou will return to us; Pierre will drop this absurd trauma response to her daughter’s kidnapping; and we will hang Hale’s body from the Grapevale Clocktower as a warning to all those who would oppose us.”
“You assume everything will go smoothly; this plan of yours seems to have way too many things that can go wrong.”
“And that is why we have backup plans.”
“What are those?”
“Come to the family meetings, and you’ll find out,” winked Nirmala, pouring herself some of her sister’s wine after eventually finding the bottle underneath a discarded 2021 calendar.
“You’re insufferable,” Yamunda rolled her eyes and shook her head, but then looked up with a slight smile. “Fine, I’ll come to your boring meetings. But this better end up with a Patel President at the end of it, and I want a meeting with Hale while she’s still alive. Alone, in my former office in the Restricted Region.”
“That can be arranged,” Nirmala smiled evilly. “Cheers,” she said, tapping her glass to her sister’s, and they both sipped, daydreaming about the day when the Matriarchy of Kerlile would once again be strong.
LIDUN President 2024 | she/her | Puppets: Kerlile, Glanainn, Yesteria, Zongongia, Zargothrax