[Lauchenoiria]

Maytown Academy for Girls, Kerlile
Morning

The Maytown Academy for Girls was the prestigious boarding school reserved for descendants of the Founders of Kerlile. It was where future Councillors and their potential heirs were educated; indeed, it was an EUDCA requirement that a Daughter spent at least ten years at the Academy. Which ten was up to them and their mother. Claire Arnott’s triplets had, however, more than met their requirement.

The three seventeen-year-olds had been at the Academy since they were three. The military did not give their mother much time off; and though she could easily have asked for it, she chose not to. It wasn’t that she had anything against her daughters; quite the opposite. Much of what Claire did, especially with her sister, would have introduced her daughters to considerable risk. Staying at the Academy for longer was safer for them.

It was breakfast, and the time when students at the Academy received mail. Generally, there wasn’t much, as Councillors had little time to write letters to their daughters, although the Chiu cousins always had a ton of them due to just how many of them there were. And, of course, there were bank statements from foreign banks in the names of several students. The triplets so rarely received any mail, however, so when Annabelle was handed a letter she was very surprised.

Not as much, though, as when she opened it. She spit out her coffee (permitted for over-14s only) and threw the letter away from her as if it burned. It landed on top of her sister Laura’s toast.

“Uh, Annabelle? You okay?” Laura asked, picking up the letter and brushing the crumbs off of it. The third triplet, Violet, was listening to Xiomeran pop music through headphones, but pulled them off and looked at Annabelle quizzically.

“Nope, nope, no way, I am NOT doing it!” Annabelle said, shaking her head so hard that her braid swung around and hit her on the nose.

Laura unfolded the letter. The triplets were close and shared everything, so she hardly viewed it as an invasion of privacy. As she read, her eyes grew wide and she passed it to Violet without comment. Violet skimmed it and then looked up at Annabelle.

“Uh, why can’t Mum do it?” Violet asked.

“She is with Rosemary, I told you this but you didn’t listen! They’re hiding from the…” she glanced around and lowered her voice, leaning in. “They’re hiding from the Patels. They want to murder Rosemary and Aunt Rebecca.”

“Uh, why?” Violet asked.

“I think that Kvaskm smuggler gave you bad goods,” Laura muttered. “Given you clearly cannot remember any of the events of the past fortnight.”

“Politics is boring!” Violet argued.

“They think it was our family that killed Anita,” Annabelle explained. “Mum is Rosemary’s heir as she doesn’t have kids, so with both of them in hiding they want me to be her proxy vote. But no way, I’m not doing it.”

The three looked down at the letter. It was hardly an invitation. It was signed by their cousin, probably before she went into hiding, and instructed Annabelle Arnott, second in line to the Arnott seat on the Council of Kerlile, to report to Grapevale and become her cousin’s proxy vote until such time as Rosemary returned from her ‘vacation’.

“You don’t have a choice,” Laura pointed out. “We learned this in class; such summons is mandatory.”

“If I go and do that, they’ll kill me instead!” Annabelle said, wide-eyed. “I don’t want to sit on the Council and I definitely don’t want to die!”

The three sat in silence for a few moments longer, picking at their breakfasts. Eventually, Laura had to ask.

“Do you think they will come for us regardless?”

“How should I know?” Annabelle replied. “Politics isn’t my thing either. They might. They might try to kill all of us like… you know.”

They all shuddered as they thought of the tale of the Six.

“We can’t stay here,” Violet said suddenly. “We should leave.”

“I don’t think the family home will be any safer than the Academy,” Laura sighed. “After all, if their intention is to come for all of us, they’ll violate the Private Property Act and just do it anyway. Who even knows who we are?”

“I don’t mean the Academy,” Violet whispered. “I mean the country.”

“And go where?” Annabelle asked.

“This is where my paranoia comes in handy!” Violet said, rubbing her hands together and pulling a phone out of her pocket. She scrolled through her downloads folder for a few minutes and then eventually pulled up a short list. “These are all the countries where the age of majority is sixteen or seventeen. Some of them are obviously not gonna work, but I think we can work one out.”

Annabelle and Laura exchanged glances and then looked at their sister’s list. It was decidedly unimpressive.

“Milintica? Ew,” Laura said.

“Hey, they’d never suspect it!” Annabelle pointed out. “What about Andhrapur? The Patels have a ton of enemies there.”

“Wait, are you actually considering this?” Laura said, looking at Annabelle.

“The minute I ever, ever set foot in that Council Chamber is the moment we all get huge targets on our backs, or have you forgotten we are identical? If I stay here, I will be forced; and if I leave they’ll just get one of you. The only way we all stay safe is if we are all out of reach of the Council.”

Laura looked between Annabelle, who had fixed puppy-dog eyes on her, and Violet who was already looking up flights to Andhrapur.

“We’d have to change in Laeral,” Violet said.

“That’s fine; now’s the right time to do that,” Annabelle said. “With the Olympics it won’t even look automatically suspicious.”

“Fine,” Laura agreed. “As long as you promise me that when we inevitably get detained somewhere, you tell them that it was all your idea.”

“Whatever,” Violet said. “Right, shall I book first class then? Flight to Laeral is tomorrow morning with a four-hour layover. Should I use the Serrielan bank account or the Grundhavnish one?”

Laura groaned, shoving her breakfast away and putting her head in her hands. This would inevitably end badly; but if her sisters were determined, she had to go along with it. Things would be much, much worse if she let them go and stayed behind – that much Annabelle was entirely correct about.

[Lauchenoiria]

Iletina Girls Junior Alternative Education Centre

The under-12s did not have to write essays for release; instead they were assessed and given marks through observation. Their minimum stay was also shorter, at a single month for the cooperative. After her first month, Jia was taken into an office for her ‘review’. She was sat down on an uncomfortable chair while a woman flicked through a file of information about her. She knew to sit very still, but it was still difficult when everything seemed designed to increase her urge to fidget.

“Well, Jia,” the woman said at last, when it transpired that Jia did indeed have enough self-control to prevent them having an excuse to punish her. “You appear to be the most cooperative of your class. That, however, is a low bar to clear. You still display unacceptable rebellious tendencies that put you at risk from the patriarchy. For your own good, you must remain here longer. Indeed, unless we see some improvement, your projected length of stay is three years and four months.”

Jia tried her very, very best not to react. She clearly failed, as the women smirked at the look on the eight-year-old’s face.

“You see, Jia, we have a way of calculating the likely length of time it will take for a girl to be cured of her patriarchal tendencies based on her behaviour. Unless your behaviour changes, you will be… let’s see… eleven and a half by the time you can go home. Neither of us wants that. Therefore, I suggest you become more cooperative, quickly.”

Jia folded her arms and looked away. As if this was really about Jia’s behaviour and not some political thing. Suzie had told her that a failing grade led to punishment regardless of her reaction; so, with the promise of inevitability, Jia decided to just go for it. “I’m not stupid you know,” she said. “I know this is about politics. Don’t lie to me and pretend that if I act like a good little Kerlian that you’ll let me go.”

To her surprise, the woman sighed and sat back, rubbing her temples. “You’re right, Jia,” she said, unexpectedly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Okay…” Jia said, uncertain how to respond.

“In truth, nothing you do will change things. This is all an act. You are far too young to have to deal with this; and the fact you understand even half of it is impressive. I don’t expect you to fully understand everything I’m about to say, but to be frank, I’ve nobody else to tell, and it’s bursting to get out.”

Jia didn’t know what to say, so just remained silent and waited to see what happened.

“This place isn’t doing what is advertised on the tin any longer,” the woman said. “What happens is this: Reformists gain the upper hand, and have everybody released. Then, they falter and the Women’s Party has a bunch of people arrested and stuck in here. Until once more, the Reformists gain the upper hand. And so on to infinity.”

The woman began to laugh helplessly leaving Jia confused and uncertain how to proceed. She’d seen adults have breakdowns before; one couldn’t spend time around the Council Families without seeing multiple mental breakdowns among over-18s. She still didn’t know how to handle it.

“You and your mother are reformists, of course, so you’ll be happy to hear that this means they’re absolutely gaining the upper hand. You know, I took this job because I actually thought it was to help convince girls who hated themselves for misogynistic reasons that they were enough. Goddess, I’m such a fool.”

“I’m…” Jia hesitated. This was a lot. “I’m not a Reformist? I’m not in a political party; I’m eight years old.”

“Whether you are a member or not is immaterial, Jia. You are a reformist in your heart; the files in front of me make that very clear. I am but a fool who read too much propaganda and is now attempting to get herself executed to assuage her own guilt.”

“I don’t know what several of those words mean,” Jia responded.

“Ah, yes,” the woman blinked, comporting herself again quickly. “My apologies, I forgot you are a child. Anyway, uh, you can go and eat now. I’m supposed to send you to bed without dinner for your failure, but you and I both know that I’m long past caring.”

Jia was ushered out of the door to dinner, still uncertain about what just happened.

*

Olivia Pierre had submitted an essay full of jokes once more. Since she’d arrived, she’d done her best to provoke her captors. And to her great surprise, it hadn’t worked. She had expected to be moved to Phase Two by now; strapped down and tortured into compliance. Not that she was entirely displeased by the lack of torture. She was no masochist; merely principled and doing what any good rebel would do in her situation.

“Why haven’t you tortured me?” she asked one of the guards once after she had deliberately spilled some gruel onto her. She was met merely by silence; not even a little beating. It was very confusing. In fact, her initial impressions of the place had turned out to be somewhat mistaken.

The other women were not nearly as zombie-like as she had thought upon arrival. In fact, none of them had any visible scars, and when she finally decided to speak to some of them, their stories weren’t as horror-genre as she’d expected. No, indeed quite the opposite. The women in the over-25s group were all here, rather than up against a wall, because they’d already decided to cooperate completely.

They were not ghosts walking the corridors dead inside; they were merely obedient little contrite Kerlians who deeply regretted ever committing a crime. Which was distressing in itself, of course, but it did mean that Olivia was unlikely to suffer too much. To even end up in Alt-Ed as an over-25, one must demonstrate sufficient remorse. Except for Olivia herself, of course, but on the file, it likely said she gave herself up. True, if not the full story.

The scientists who studied these things had found it was ineffective on those who had passed the age of 25, unless they themselves desired to become loyal once more. The others were indeed former dissidents, who upon being imprisoned for some action, had decided that their cause was not worth more to them than their lives, and they had chosen to try and make peace with the Matriarchy.

Olivia didn’t begrudge them, if she was honest. She firmly believed that nobody should be forced or expected to lay down their lives for a cause. While she herself would absolutely die for her ideals; she abhorred the idea of forcing others to take such risks and shaming those who sought safety. In her mind, it cheapened the sacrifice, and was no better than controlling people in other ways.

In its own way, not that Olivia’s conscious mind would ever countenance the thought, Alt-Ed had indeed convinced Olivia of the benefits of at least some of the Matriarchy’s policies. She would have preferred to live in a democracy, of course, but if she had to live in an authoritarian state, then at least it was the one that was willing to give people second chances. And, hey: the lack of torture proved one thing conclusively. The reformists were indeed making clear gains.

*

Carolyn Greenwood got another A on her essay. One-third of the way to possible release. It was easier now, that she’d accepted that she deserved it. She behaved as the very model of what the designers of Alt-Ed intended. Contrite, obedient and willing to accept whatever the authority figures around told her as absolute truth. She let every piece of propaganda sink in to her very bones.

If anyone had ever told Carolyn a secret, it would soon be shared with the Kerlian state. The other Daughters who had once allowed her in on their conspiracy would be even more screwed now, if they hadn’t already hit up on their limit. Except… except one secret. She couldn’t tell them that. Or could she? She wrestled with the idea in her head.

Meanwhile, her mother Letitia watched her via the CCTV system she had access to as a result of her position. Her mother watched every twitch of her daughter’s face as Carolyn thought through the pros and cons. Her mother read every report on the secrets her daughter had willingly given up. And her mother sighed, tapping her fingers, and trying to decide if her daughter was a liability; and if so, what she would do about it.

[Lauchenoiria]

Eva Pierre quadruple-checked the records and then swore, throwing a folder across the room. Her searching had not produced the desired results; indeed quite the opposite. When she went to the Kerlian Intelligence basement where the old Aurora files were now kept, she'd intended to find some proof that it had been a reformist who had hired an Aurora to murder Anita Patel. Instead, she'd found the opposite.

For all Eva's traditionalism, however, she believed firmly in integrity. She could no more hide her findings than she would support male rights. Sighing, she picked up the phone and dialled her mother.

*

Nirmala Patel opened the door of her office to find Pauline Pierre outside. She raised an eyebrow.

"You have refrained from speaking to me alone since your vote in favour of the EUDCA amendments," Nirmala said without any prelude or introduction.

"My second daughter, Eva, has discovered information that I believe you will find interesting. May I come in?" Pauline replied in a similar fashion.

"Very well," Nirmala said, leading the other Councillor inside and sitting down behind her desk without offering Pauline any refreshments, as was customary.

Pauline sat across from her, pulling out a tablet, and sliding it across the desk. Nirmala picked it up, scanning the screen. It was an email from Eva containing photographs of paper documents. They appeared to be a record of every movement of each Aurora in Kerlile. After the Robinson affair, they began monitoring them much more strictly.

The second email contained the same information, this time originally in digital form, regarding the movements of each Reformist Councillor and their heirs to the fifth in line. Nirmala looked up at Pauline. "What am I looking at, here?"

"There's no crossover during the relevant dates," Pauline said. "None of the reformists had the opportunity to hire an Aurora. Communication logs don't turn anything up either."

"That proves nothing; they could have slipped surveillance," scoffed Nirmala.

"Normally I would agree, except Eva has found something further. There are no connections between the Reformists and the Auroras… but there is indeed a very suspicious connection with another Council Family," Pauline said, swiping on the tablet to land on a further two documents side by side in comparison.

Nirmala picked it up, looking over the documents. She scanned them again and again, shaking her head in disbelief. "No, the Arnotts, everything pointed to them."

"What did you really have?" Pauline said. "Motivation, yes, but certainly no opportunity. And how would it have benefitted them, in the end?"

"How would it benefit her?" Nirmala gestured at the documents.

"I don't know. I will help you find out, though. For a price," Pauline said.

"Name it," Nirmala said.

"Jia and Olivia," Pauline replied. "Their immediate release. The safety of Camille and Xia should they return, and Reena too for that matter. This whole thing started because you let your sister punish Reena for being a reformist. If the murder was not reformists, then you must admit fault in the starting of the affair."

"Very well," Nirmala agreed finally. "We can demonstrate our mercy. I shall have to convince Yamunda; she is trying to hunt Rosemary down."

"You have to stop her, she will make matters a million times worse," Pauline pointed out.

"I know," Nirmala said. "I do hope we are not too late."

“We cannot keep doing this, Nirmala,” Pauline sighed. “This infighting; the assassinations; the executions; the torture. It is making us look insane.”

“You sound like a reformist,” snorted Nirmala.

“I sound like someone who wishes to survive. Someone who believes in the mission of Kerlile and recognises that becoming an international pariah and the butt of all their jokes is counterproductive to our aims. If we tie up the idea of female rule with infighting, assassins and torture, do we really expect anywhere else to follow in our footsteps?”

Nirmala nodded her concession of the point. “Is this why you have begun voting for certain reformist policies?”

“Yes,” Pauline replied. “We must be tactical about this. I know you understand me, unlike your sister. So, I say this with all due respect, keep her at your heel. And please don’t torture any more of your relatives.”

“Fine,” Nirmala said in the tone of a whiny teenager, but with a conspiratorial smile on her face.

[Lauchenoiria]

Rosemary Arnott had learned a lot over the past two weeks. Her horror and distaste in the hidden cabin had abated somewhat as she learned useful survival skills that she’d missed out on, going straight from school, to (a single year of) university, to sitting on the Council. In the end, it was kind of fun; certainly, more so than a Council meeting. She could never quite forget why they were hiding there, however.

She hadn’t spent much time with her aunt before this, and the more she spoke with Claire, the more she became drawn into her tales. “Tell me more about the civil war,” she’d asked one morning last week. “I think I’ve only heard propaganda. From both sides.”

“Some of the propaganda is fairly accurate,” Claire had replied. “Which depends on what year you are talking about. You see, in the early years, the war was exactly what the democracies claim. DKS were wannabe-revolutionaries who wanted to create a better Kerlile, who were ruthlessly put down by, well, us. The later years, though, are more like what you would have read in school here.”

Her aunt had sighed, throwing another log on the fire and producing a beer from Goddess-knows-where. “DKS were idealists, and like many idealists, when their worldview was broken, they broke with it. Each and every injustice inflicted on them drove their leadership into a darker and darker place. They became… disillusioned. And cynical. In 1992, most of them viewed the world as a generally fair place where good would eventually triumph over evil. When the tide of the war turned, the world suddenly became an evil, hostile place.”

“How do you know what they were thinking?” Rosemary had asked. Her aunt had just looked at her, with a sad, weary expression. And Rosemary had swallowed, understanding the meaning implicitly: the interrogations had been thorough.

“You see, Rosemary,” her aunt had continued. “In the later years, DKS became desperate, and willing to do whatever was needed. They copied their adversaries’ interrogation techniques, they shot prisoners in cold blood, they recruited five-year-olds as messengers in the middle of the warzone… because the ends justified the means. There is no good and evil in war, Councillor. Not in the end. War makes monsters of us all.”

In the end, it had been almost like a holiday: a grim, potentially deadly holiday, filled with tales of the horrors of Kerlile. But it was also the freest Rosemary had been in years to actually ask questions without anyone ridiculing her for not knowing, or directing her to propaganda pamphlets. And no Council meetings! But all good things come to an end, and her aunt received the all-clear from her mother in some coded way she did not understand. And then they were on their way back to Grapevale.

*

Over in Andhrapur, Claire’s triplets were sitting in their fancy hotel room watching movies banned in Kerlile. They’d arrived on Friday after changing in Laeralsford-René Gramont International Airport. They’d thankfully made it out of Kerlile without trouble, the first hurdle. Thankfully, Grapevale International Airport had been busier than usual with Kerlians going back-and-forth for the Olympics. The hassled passport control official had glanced at their permanent-exit-permit stamps and waved them through without paying much attention.

The flight to Laeral had been full: when Violet had booked tickets, first-class was the only one with seats available. Good thing they were sufficiently wealthy. Aside from themselves and a few businesspeople (including some rather nervous looking men), the rest of the plane was full of people heading from Laeralsford to Hanshui. They stayed in the airport to change flight, practicing their French on random duty-free employees.

Once they’d boarded the flight to Andhrapur, all three of them felt more relaxed. Their family had old enemies in Laeral, and although it was likely said enemies had long since forgotten them in the intervening century, they couldn’t be 100% certain. Also, they didn’t want anyone to notice they were seventeen and get irritated about the lack of accompanying adults.

Arriving in Andhrapur was another thing entirely. None of the trio had visited before; it had merely been plucked out as the best option on the list. Nasvari International Airport was large and crowded, making the orderly airport at Grapevale seem like it belonged to another universe. Throngs of people were milling around, and the heat was like nothing they’d experienced in Kerlile. The passport control people had done a double-take at their passports; though whether that was because they were Kerlian, or identical triplets, was impossible to tell.

Regardless, they were given entry and immediately went to the nearest shop selling smartphones to purchase three with local SIM cards. Then they made their way to the hotel Violet had booked online, sweating in the hot, muggy weather. Someone walked past them with a dagger and they jumped, before noticing that many Andhrapuri around were wearing daggers or knives on their person – especially men.

“I guess we know why the Patels bring swords to Council meetings,” Laura joked warily as they headed past an ornate temple to the Rangpur Palace hotel where they presented their platinum credit cards to stave off any suspicious looks at their less-fancy clothes. They hadn’t wanted to draw attention when leaving Kerlile.

Now, they were being contacted by their aunt, the President of Kerlile, to inform them they weren’t in any danger. But none of the trio particularly wanted to hurry back to the Matriarchy; especially given they’d paid for the first two weeks of their stay upfront. Therefore, they were making a holiday of it. They’d go sightseeing in the mornings and evenings, and spend the hot afternoons watching banned media. And if their mother and aunt didn’t like it, well. Too bad.

*

“You must understand, Jia, that I did what I must to protect our family, and our country. I regret that it was necessary; however, in the end you are fine. No harm done,” Councillor Lia Chiu said to her eight-year-old great-granddaughter after the latter’s release from Alt-Ed.

The young girl bit her lip and nodded. She wanted to scream. Or punch something. Actually, both: definitely both. Still, that wouldn’t go well right now. Therefore, she smiled politely as her great-grandmother tried to make herself feel better with justification after justification that made Jia angrier each time. When Lia was finally done, she allowed Jia to leave and go to her bedroom.

Once inside, Jia immediately put her plan into action. She packed a bag of the essentials, and hid it as best she could before she feigned sleep. Her aunt came to check on her, as expected, but didn’t suspect a thing. Once the adults in the household were asleep, she snuck out and into her mother’s room. She crawled under the bed and scrabbled in the dark until she managed to grip the loose floorboard, and pulled it back.

Hidden underneath was a thick bundle of cash in six currencies: the Kerlian Credit, the Lauchenoirian Peso, the Zongongian Krone, the Sanctarian Pound, the Xiomeran Quetzal and finally the Laeralian Mark. Jia took all the various currencies, not knowing exactly which ones she’d need. Then, she snuck downstairs into her great-grandmother’s office. It was locked, but Jia’s mother had long ago stolen and made copies of each key for the Chiu household, and said copies were now in Jia’s hands.

She went through her great-grandmother’s filing cabinets until she found the bundle of passports, plucking out both her own and her brother Cheung’s. Cheung did not have a Kerlian passport, of course… but he did have a Lauchenoirian one since they had birthright citizenship and he had been born there. Jia’s Kerlian passport was thankfully still in date, and contained the special symbol that meant she did not require a separate permit to leave the Matriarchy.

Then she went back upstairs, grabbed her bag, and snuck into her brother’s room. She woke him with her hand clasped over his mouth, whispering for him to stay quiet. “We’re going to play a game,” she told him. “We’re going to be as quiet as we can, and if you win, I’ll buy you a triple chocolate ice cream with extra sprinkles and a wafer.”

With her two-year-old brother thus in tow, she snuck out of her family household and into the stables. This was going to be the tricky part. Cheung couldn’t ride a bike, and even if Jia knew how to steal and drive a car, she wasn’t tall enough to reach the pedals. She didn’t trust any of the adults around her, which left horseback as her only option. Fortunately, she’d been learning since she was just a little older than Cheung. She would make him sit in front of her and they could go.

“Hello?” came a voice from the stables. Jia quickly clasped her hand over Cheung’s mouth once again, and ushered him into a stall containing one of her aunt’s horses. The horse, sleeping, woke briefly, looked at them, and then went back to sleep. They hid as the night attendant at the Chiu stables walked around, looking for the source of whatever noise had attracted her attention. Eventually, she sighed, switching off the lights and leaving.

“Wait here,” Jia whispered to Cheung before sneaking out. She was going to have to saddle her horse in the dark. Which would be difficult, given she usually had help at the best of times due to her age and size. A month of bare-minimum meals would not have helped.

Somehow, she managed. By the time she was finished though, she was drenched in sweat, had injured herself several times, and felt like she was on the verge of collapse. She returned to Cheung to find him asleep next to her aunt’s horse. She picked him up and carried him to her own small horse. She somehow lifted him on, and climbed up after him. Then the lights went on and the night attendant was staring at them.

Jia met her eyes briefly, and then squeezed, turning the reins. The night attendant could do no more than watch as Jia’s horse shot out of the stables into the night at a gallop and down the driveway before the attendant could even so much as blink.

[Lauchenoiria]

“Now we are all present, we can move on to the next agenda item: consideration of applications to form an official political party. We have five applications, and I wish to take this opportunity to remind you all that we are NOT voting on whether we personally agree with the ideology presented, but whether the ideology presented is a potential threat to the existence of Kerlile,” Councillor Chiu addressed her fellow Councillors.

Rosemary Arnott, back from her forest trip, was sweating in a bulletproof vest next to Letitia Greenwood, who was leaning away from the younger Councillor and intermittently pinching her nose. Jennifer Hale was once more accompanied by her four-year-old daughter, who had crawled under the table and fallen asleep. Nirmala Patel was wearing tight-fitting clothes, very unlike her usual style, in an attempt to make Rosemary feel more at ease, given the lack of locations to conceal weapons. They all waited for Chiu to continue.

“The five applications will be taken in alphabetical order. First application for consideration: Anti-Patriarchy League. Copies of their form will be in your agenda packs,” Chiu said.

The assembled Councillors began rustling through their paper information packs. Pauline Pierre pulled out her copy and looked at the summary sheet on top.

Name: Anti-Patriarchy League.
Short summary of ideology: economic self-sufficiency; closed borders; no alliances with non-gynarchies.
Top 5 policy priorities: 1. Removal of Xiomeran military bases. 2. Full economic self-sufficiency to end all imports and exports. 3. Close all borders, no immigration/emigration. 4. Closure of all embassies with non-gynarchies. 5. Increased military spending in case of retaliatory invasion.

“I hate to be the one to say this,” Pierre piped up reluctantly, “but this actually might cause a danger to Kerlile. They say it themselves: it could prompt retaliation. Furthermore, an end to all imports and exports may be survivable, but it certainly is not desirable. Approving this group would also be the fastest way to anger Xiomera.”

“Yeah, I’m with Pauline,” Jennifer Hale shuddered. “They sound like a Kerlian version of Lauchenoiria First, and you all threaten to attack Lauchenoiria every time Paul Doberman opens his mouth, so.”

“Well, we must consider the balance between protecting the Matriarchy, and allowing reform to proceed,” Natalia Hart said calmly, eyeing Hale. “Surely the voters are smart enough to reject such things at the ballot box, Jennifer?”

“Stop using democracy against me,” Hale replied. “Do you have sympathies with these people? Plus, Pauline laid out a clear case for why they are dangerous. Most notably angering the Xiomerans. For what it’s worth, I still don’t approve of us having to approve parties; but if we’re doing so, we might as well prevent such nonsense. I can’t count all the times pro-democracy Lauchenoirians have wished they could outlaw Doberman’s nonsense.”

“Before we get into a long-winded debate, can we have an initial vote to see if there is an overwhelming preference one way or the other?” Chiu asked. Nobody objected, so she went around the room taking votes.

Should this Council approve the creation of new political party, the Anti-Patriarchy League?
Arnott – Aye
Chiu – Nay
Georgiou – Nay
Greenwood – Nay
Hale – Nay
Hart – Aye
Patel – Nay
Pierre – Nay
Viallamando – Nay

“That seems clear to me,” Chiu replied. “Although, as an aside, I am curious as to your reasons for your vote, Rosemary.”

“Unlike Jennifer, who seems to have forgotten her principles,” Rosemary looked pointedly at Hale. “I am making my disapproval of this process known. We should not be restricting who can and cannot form a party in this manner, and therefore I shall vote to approve all applicants.”

“Okay,” Chiu said, letting the word draw out a little. Jennifer had turned red, and Chiu decided to move on quickly, before a fight broke out. “Second application is for the Fleuran Restoration Party.”

Name: Fleuran Restoration Party
Short summary of ideology: monarchism, restoration of Fleuran monarchy, crowing of Natalia Hart as Queen to be succeeded by the female line.
Top 5 policy priorities: 1. Crown Natalia Hart as Queen. 2. Council to become advisory body. 3. Splitting of Head of State and Head of Government into separate roles. 4. Invite South Fleura to rejoin us. 5. Change name of country to Queendom of Kerlile-Fleura.

Everyone in the room turned to look at Natalia Hart, who was staring down at the paper with a look of utter surprise on her face. She looked up and around, as if expecting someone to laugh and call the application a prank. Nobody did; and she noted that several of their looks were ones of suspicion.

“Councillors, I promise I knew nothing of this,” Hart said hurriedly. “I would not even, I would not even accept such a thing if proposed in a serious nature. I share my great-grandmother’s position on the matter. The Fleuran monarchy is best staying dead and buried.”

“Well, given that Councillor Hart is named in this and does not support the aims, I would suggest we reject the application without further discussion,” Chiu said. Everyone nodded, especially Hart.

“Moving on to our third application, the Gynarcha-Socialist Party.”

Name: Gynarcha-Socialist Party
Short summary of ideology: social and political gynarchy, economic socialism, abolition of capitalism
Top 5 policy priorities: 1. Nationalisation of important sectors. 2. Increased social security net. 3. Transformation of most businesses into worker-owned co-ops. 4. Introduction of planned economy. 5. Robust laws protecting trade unions.

“How did Charissa Clarke submit an application from Sanctarian prison?” Jennifer Hale joked, holding the paper away from her as if it smelled.

“Very funny,” Patel replied. “Will you also vote against this one then, Miss Reformist?”

“As much as I hate the idea, no,” Jennifer Hale said. “There’s nothing in here meeting the criteria of ‘danger to Kerlile’s existence’, and whoever is behind this clearly knew exactly how to play to all of you.”

“Oh? How so?” Chiu asked.

“All their policies are just normal socialism, yet they stuck gynarchy in their name. Surely you see that this is a ploy to win your votes,” Hale replied.

“Hah!” Rosemary Arnott said, leaning forward to eye Jennifer. “You’re upset I called you out, so now you’re trying to get them to vote it down so you don’t have to. Your time here has corrupted you, Jenny.”

“You understand nothing!” Jennifer snapped.

“Enough!” Chiu shouted before it could escalate. “Preliminary vote, now. And if anyone draws a gun, I swear to the Goddess I will schedule the remains of this session for your beloved Sunday. Now, voting!”

Should this Council approve the creation of new political party, the Gynarcha-Socialist Party?
Arnott – Aye
Chiu – Aye
Georgiou – Aye
Greenwood – Aye
Hale – Abstain
Hart – Aye
Patel – Aye
Pierre – Aye
Viallamando – Aye

“Chaherian bullshit,” Jennifer muttered under her breath.

“Next we have the Next Stage Party,” Chiu announced, choosing to ignore Jennifer.

Name: Next Stage Party
Short summary of ideology: democratic reform, male rights, furtherment of Founding Mother’s mission by moving from cultural change stage to new society stage
Top 5 policy priorities: 1. Equalise rights regardless of gender. 2. Grant Parliament priority over Council. 3. Democratic presidential elections immediately. 4. Abolish Alt-Ed centres and Kerlian Censorship Board. 5. Allow foreign election observers to ensure fair and free results.

The gathered Councillors were all stunned into silence. The sheer audacity of whoever had submitted this application was impressive. To use the Founding Mothers of Kerlile to further such a seemingly anti-Kerlian ideology was risky in the extreme. It was true, of course, that the founders intended the period of female-only rule to be temporary to create an egalitarian society once the cultural shift had been attained. That was not something that it was safe to point out in the present day, however.

“I never thought I would view the Reform Party as moderate,” Nirmala Patel mused after the silence had begun to stretch.

“I guess we should vote,” Chiu said.

Should this Council approve the creation of new political party, the Next Stage Party?
Arnott – Aye
Chiu – Nay
Georgiou – Aye
Greenwood – Nay
Hale – Aye
Hart – Nay
Patel – Nay
Pierre – Nay
Viallamando – Nay

“Two-thirds have rejected the application; therefore, we shall not proceed with further discussion,” Chiu said, the relief evident in her voice. “Final party for consideration is the Progressive Economy Party.

Name: Progressive Economy Party
Short summary of ideology: economic progressivism
Top 5 policy priorities: 1. Increase taxes on wealthy individuals and reform of tax rates generally. 2. More public spending on health, education and social security. 3. Increase state pension rate for both women and men. 4. Improved workers’ rights laws. 5. Greater corporation tax and regulations for businesses.

“Are you gonna freak out about commies again, Jennifer?” Georgiou asked.

“No, these ones aren’t communists,” Hale shook her head. “They sound like social democrats without the democrat bit. They’re fine. The red flags are things like planned economy.”

“Red flags,” Rosemary burst out laughing. “Sorry, that was just very funny. Uh, carry on.”

“Can we just finish voting so I can get to my meeting with the Zongongian ambassador?” Chiu snapped. She was getting a headache.

Should this Council approve the creation of new political party, the Progressive Economy Party?
Arnott – Aye
Chiu – Aye
Georgiou – Aye
Greenwood – Aye
Hale – Aye
Hart – Aye
Patel – Aye
Pierre – Aye
Viallamando – Aye

“Great, two approvals and three rejections. End of session,” Chiu said quickly and then immediately swept up her papers and stormed off out of the room.

“What’s with her?” Rosemary asked.

“Her great-grandchildren ran away to Zongongia on a horse,” Jennifer replied.

“Uh, what?”

“Jia and Cheung took a horse from the Chiu stables and rode to Zongongia. Good thing their house is near the border because there’s no way I’d want to ride a horse with a two-year-old for longer than, well, to be honest zero seconds,” Jennifer shook her head.

“Isn’t Jia, like, six?” Rosemary asked.

“She’s eight, but your point is noted. Councillor Chiu is embarrassed that she lost two small children in her care. They’re safe, don’t worry. I spoke to Xia and they managed to make it to the Palace. Some poor Zongongian border guard got a fright when a horse rode at him, but it all worked out. But also, Rosemary? Don’t insult me in a Council session like that again,” Jennifer said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Lia Chiu stared at the black-and-white picture of her with her parents. She had been fifteen when EUDCA came into force. Her mother sent her father away to Laeral – thankfully, EUDCA predated the emigration ban by four years – and she had never seen him again. At the time, she’d had mixed feelings. She understood the purpose of EUDCA, given the infancy of the Matriarchy and the culture of surrounding nations. She also loved her father, and missed him.

Over time, she had convinced herself of the value of the Act, and had suppressed any emotional feeling she had over the matter. Then came her granddaughter’s flight from the country in order to give birth to her great-grandson. All the emotions she had suppressed successfully for decades had come flooding back, piece by piece. It was why she had voted for the reformist amendments in the end. Chiu was NOT a reformist, but on matters of family, she shared their sympathies.

The eighty-one-year-old Councillor was both physically and mentally fit for her age, but one could only do so much to stave off the waves of nostalgia. This box hadn’t been opened since the 1950s. It had been collecting dust in a storage room, but now she couldn’t let it go. She had been here for hours, picking through old photographs, overthinking every decision she had ever made. She felt a dampness on her cheeks and lifted her hand up to touch tears. Councillor Chiu did not cry. Yet, now she did.

It was Xia, of course. Her granddaughter who fled the country, and her great-grandchildren who had run away to join their mother. She wasn’t angry with them for their action. That would be easier to deal with. No, Lia was heartbroken. Her young great-grandchildren had felt it was better to flee across a border in the night than stay with her. She couldn’t even blame Jia, not after the Alt-Ed stint. In the end, it didn’t matter whether or not Lia had a choice. There is always a choice.

“Peace at all costs,” she whispered, laughing and weeping at the irony. That was how this happened. Their desire to prevent another civil war in Kerlile meant that the other Council families were giving the Patels whatever they wanted to keep them happy after the revelation about the death of Anita. In the end, it was just ripping things apart further. Appeasing the Patels made them bolder, leading to ever-more concessions.

“But we can’t risk a war anyway,” she muttered to herself in Mandarin. It was a no-win scenario, and she couldn’t see a way out of it. But she had to find one. Her family had always been careful to stop the Matriarchy going too far in an anti-family direction; which seemed like a logical option for such a state. The political battle between the reformists and the gynarchists was beginning to tear apart the fragile fabric of the state, however.

Chiu needed to find a way to fix things without going even further down the tangled roads of appeasement and concessions. Perhaps… yes, perhaps…

She stood up, digging further into the storage room, past boxes covered in dust even older than she was. There. In the back was a wooden box stamped with old shipping labels in numerous languages. The Councillor made her way carefully through the stacked boxes and knelt over, ignoring the pain in her back as she did so.

“Okay, grandmother, what do you have for me?” she whispered as she opened the box. Inside were stacks of old paper with careful, handwritten Chinese characters on them. A smell of aged paper and wood wafted up, but Lia couldn’t tell if it was real or an olfactory hallucination brought on by expectations.

Lia grunted as she stood back up, bending over to pick up the box. She hissed as she did so. She was much too old for this, but she didn’t quite trust any of her daughters with the task. And she certainly didn’t trust the servants. She struggled with the box, carrying it out and through to her office, gasping in relief as she dropped it on the desk, and locked the door before sitting down to recover.

Once she had rested, she got up again, and began to go through the papers in the box. They contained much of the work of the Chiu founder, Yijun, on academic discussions of feminist theory and the Kerlian project. They dated back, for amusement, to a scrawl in the untidy script of a six-year-old, which read solely what roughly translated to ‘boys are stinky’, dated 1903. Then there was a gap until Yijun was nineteen, before she began studying the subject of gender in earnest.

This included an unabridged, unedited, uncensored version of the initial manifesto for the creation of Kerlile, and the logic behind the initial policies. This was before the founders had decided to put it into practice, back when it was solely a thought experiment. That was what Lia was looking for. Reality had a way of clouding things; of turning ideology into politics. Perhaps in these old writings of her grandmother, she could find something that would help her find a way to fix Kerlile in the present-day, before it was too late.

[Lauchenoiria]

“No,” Nirmala Patel said simply. “No.”

“This is a trick,” said Pierre.

“No, it is not,” replied Chiu.

“You are lying. You have to be.”

“I am not.”

“This is fake, a prank.”

“It is not.”

“IT CANNOT HAVE GOTTEN OUT!”

“It has.”

“SHE CANNOT BE ALIVE.”

“She is.”

“Then all of us are as good as dead.”

*

“Did you know about this!?” Prime Minister Josephine Alvarez of Lauchenoiria demanded, bursting into her bedroom where Jennifer Hale still slept.

“Know about what?” Jennifer yawned, sitting up.

Alvarez tossed a copy of A Daughter’s Manifesto to Hale, who opened it and began to read. As she did, she shot out of bed rapidly, standing upright.

“How? Where was this published?” Jennifer spluttered.

“Kerlile, by the Free Kerlian Press,” Josephine replied.

“Thank the Goddess,” Jennifer exhaled, sitting back down. “If it was foreign, the Council would probably have done something stupid. Xiomera is going to regret those missile deliveries anyway, I wager.”

“So, you did know,” Josephine replied flatly.

“Come on, you can’t have expected me to dredge up deep secrets that I don’t even think about. It never even crossed my mind to tell you, because it was a piece of history that would never come to light. Did a Quinn really survive?”

“Yes,” sighed Josephine. “Now I have to go work out how Lauchenoiria is going to respond to this.”

“If you want my advice,” Jennifer turned to her wife, looking her directly in the eyes. “Stay the hell out of it. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but it won’t be good. Not for Kerlile, nor Lauchenoiria, nor anywhere else on this entire planet.”

*

“Well, hey, someone’s done a worse treason than us,” Natasha Robinson told her mother once the news made it to Eiria.

“Be serious for a moment, Natasha,” Carmen sighed. “This does not paint our family in a particularly good light. Thank the Goddess that the author identifies herself, or we would be falling under suspicion. Leaking the Secret of the Six is quite possibly the worst thing a Kerlian could do. This Amelia Quinn will not survive.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Natasha pointed out. “Seems to me like she’s trying to capitalise on an already volatile situation. You’ve seen how desperate the Council is to avoid civil war. No, the fallout of this is going to be far more unpredictable than we expect.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Old North Fleuran Cabinet Room, Kerlile (Temporary Meeting Place of the Inaugural Council of Kerlile)
April 1934

“We have to do something,” Chiu Yijun addressed the Council. “We disposed of the Six who would threaten our plans, and yet a new threat now presents itself in the guise of these Lauchenoirians. Regardless of what else we do next, I am sure you all know that we are not safe unless we take extraordinary measures.”

“What exactly do you have in mind, Yijun? We cannot hope to triumph on an open battlefield; for all our discipline we simply do not have the resources and equipment to maintain a prolonged conflict,” Margaret Robinson replied.

“Waging war is what a male would do in our situation,” Chiu retorted. “We must be better than them; not merely a reversal of their positions. Weakness cannot be tolerated, but nor can false posturing. This is an opportunity to show the world that we are worthy of their respect. We must speak with them.”

“They do not even consider us a real nation,” lamented Camila Hale. “The only reason they have not already attacked us was the storm.”

“Thank the Goddess,” chimed in Edith Hart, nodding her head in prayer. “The storm was divinely delivered to allow us time to gather our thoughts. Now, the South Fl– Lauchenoirians, sorry, my pardon. The Lauchenoirians do not have a reputation for being open to dialogue. And yet I must agree with Yijun. We must try.”

“That in turn begs the question: what can we offer them that we are willing to give?” asked Sunita Patel.

“You are not going to like this,” Yijun warned, and then opened her mouth to speak.

*

Council Chambers, Kerlile
Present Day

“We have to do something,” Lia Chiu addressed the Council. “After the leaking of the Secret of the Six, our reputation on the international stage has become even poorer. Regardless of whether you are a reformist or a traditionalist, I am sure you all know that we are not safe unless we take extraordinary measures.”

“What could possibly make this situation better!?” Nirmala Patel exclaimed. “We don’t even know the location of this Quinn pretender. While she lives we’re not safe!”

“The damage is already done, Nirmala,” pointed out Pauline Pierre. “There’s nothing much she could do to make things worse at this point.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Councillors!” Chiu warned. “You are both right, in a way. The damage is already done, but we are indeed not safe if we do not do something about the situation. The world already hates us, they will hate us more if we do not respond to this. Our silence is both proof of guilt, and proof of a lack of remorse.”

“I only found out about this when I joined the Council,” Rosemary Arnott pointed out. “Mother didn’t tell me before, and you all saw how I reacted.”

They had indeed. Upon the disclosure of the Secret to Rosemary, she had threatened to tell the press; then had a full-on panic attack; then started crying over those dead for decades. They’d needed to bring her mother, the President, into the Council Chambers to console her daughter and talk her out of doing something stupid. Then Rosemary had proceeded to call the others every name under the sun, and inform them that they all deserved to be at the very least in prison, if not six feet under.

“We can’t change things that happened ninety years ago.” Electra Georgiou said. “What would you have us do, Lia?”

“You are not going to like this,” Lia warned, before she spoke.

[Lauchenoiria]

Council of Kerlile Chambers
Present Day

“Calm down, all of you!” President Rebecca Arnott shouted, slamming a thick hardback book against the desk several times to hammer home her point. The gathered Councillors of Kerlile, at least those who had not left the country, fell silent – though they did not stop glaring at each other. “One at a time. Chiu, please explain the logic.”

“I am not playing politics,” Councillor Chiu replied calmly. “That is what my colleagues here are struggling to understand. This is not about political expediency; it is about doing what I believe is right. The Founding Mothers were visionaries; and who are we to edit their vision to serve our own purposes? I support the original manifesto, and therefore I oppose its censorship. It is that simple.”

“Except, it is all politics!” Letitia Greenwood snapped. “It is not that I do not understand what you are saying, it is that I do not believe you. This is some kind of ploy, and the timing is deeply suspicious.”

“If you are claiming you are not a gynarchist, then you should leave the Women’s Party at the very least,” Nirmala Patel snapped. “If this was five years ago, you would have been facing execution. Count your blessings and step down, Lia.”

“The Women’s Party was never meant to be like this!” Chiu insisted. “It is you that has corrupted the vision, and therefore it is you who ought to leave.”

“Have we considered that perhaps Councillor Chiu is going senile?” Lucia Viallamando piped up, looking up from her tablet for once. “She is eighty-two, after all. Perhaps a nice retirement is in order.”

“I have all my faculties, thank you very much!”

“STOP!” the President shouted again. “What’s done is done! It’s out there. It’s 2023, you can’t put things back in their box again. The Secret of the Six is out, the old manifesto is out, all of it is out! It’s up to the Women’s Party if you kick Chiu out. I don’t frankly care. I have been trying desperately to hold this country together after the damn war and you are all making things that much harder!”

“This country is falling apart because of you and your so-called reform!” Nirmala Patel snarled. “Perhaps it is you we should be recalling!”

“Oh, cause that ended so well the last time someone tried it!”

“Are you threatening me!?”

“Goddess, I cannot stay here any longer,” Natalia Hart whispered to Rosemary Arnott and Electra Georgiou. The trio hadn’t said a damn word all throughout this meeting. As members of the Secadualist Union and Reform Party (x2), respectively, they did not much care for the internal Women’s Party drama. Each of them already acknowledged that they differed from the Founders in some ways.

“Can we just leave?” Rosemary whispered back.

“Yes,” Georgiou nodded. “This isn’t Full Council without a Hale rep, so you can leave whenever you want.”

In response, Rosemary stood up and headed straight for the door.

“Daughter! Where are you going?” President Arnott demanded.

“Anywhere else but here,” Rosemary answered frankly.

“Sit down and stop being so unprofessional,” her mother snapped.

“Oh, like you’re being professional? Screaming at each other and threatening to kill each other? Give me a break!” Rosemary scoffed, opening the door and leaving with a wave. Natalia Hart took her chance, stood up and, shrugging, followed the younger Councillor out of the door.

“Well then,” Georgiou remarked to the stunned silence that followed. “Perhaps we ought to decide what we’re going to do about Amelia Quinn?”

“Execution, obviously,” Patel replied. Greenwood and Viallamando nodded.

“Come to think of it,” Viallamando mused, “the Founders were the ones behind the Castle of Grapes. So, like, clearly, they saw the light after they wrote the 1919 manifesto. What Chiu here is worshipping is a document written as a theory, before the realities of the creation of Kerlile were discovered. It is something that was written as an ideal. It was never meant to stand up to the scrutiny of the real world. So, Lia, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

“Okay, that’s it, Lucia. Would you like me to demonstrate just how fit my mind and body still are?” Chiu snapped.

“ENOUGH!” shouted Arnott.

And the cycle this meeting had been trapped in began anew.

[Lauchenoiria]

Two days ago

Olivia Pierre woke suddenly, all her senses screaming that she was in danger. It took her a moment to ascertain where she was. She was in the Council of Kerlile Archive, where she’d fallen asleep after studying handwritten manuscripts created by her great-great-great-grandmother. And something was on fire.

Olivia jumped out from under the table where she’d slipped off her chair in her sleep. The position she’d ended up in was such that someone else entering the Archive would not have noticed her presence unless they had deliberately been looking. She made note of this fact even as she ran to the entranceway where the fire extinguisher was kept. At least, where it had been kept the night before. It was no longer there.

She coughed and crouched lower to the ground as she scanned the room. Many of these documents were irreplaceable; and the instinct of her higher brain functions was to try and put out the fire, even as her survival instinct screamed at her to run for her own life. The fire had clearly only started recently, in the aisles containing more recent documents. This meant a few things, that Olivia considered in a single second.

They were much more easily replaced as there were probably illicit copies in several families’ personal libraries. And the starter of the fire – for there was nothing present in this room that could possibly have started one accidentally – had probably not gotten far. This spurred Olivia into action as she turned to the exit, throwing the door open. Or, trying to, anyway. It was locked and bolted.

Olivia attempted to kick the lock, to no avail – even though she was certainly strong enough to break down most doors that way. Then she took out her emergency pistol and shot it, but it still didn’t break. She had no phone or communications device; they were not permitted in the Archive. And there was only one way out. Even if this had not been a targeted assassination attempt, it was looking likely to kill her. And if the fire-starter had taken the extinguisher, she may well have disabled the fire alarm somehow.

“How do I put out a fire?” Olivia whispered to herself, crouching down again. She remembered learning somewhere to stay low, reduce smoke inhalation. She glanced around, trying to work out anything she could use. Her tiny, half-empty water bottle would not do much.

“Water,” she muttered, and then crawled over to an aisle the fire had not yet spread to, with a section containing information about the building of the Council Chambers and their attached Archive. “Blueprints…”

She searched along the shelf, her eyes watering against the smoke until she found the blueprints of the building she was in. She wanted to know where the water pipes were located. Maybe the door was bulletproof but they probably weren’t. They’d damage things, but probably not as much as fire would, especially if she targeted pipes at the same side as the fire, near the modern section.

Of course, she’d have to go towards the flames. And nobody knew she was there, and she had no way of getting help or getting out. But she had no options that way, anyway, so she might as well save what she could. She looked over the blueprints, and realised she couldn’t see much through the wall nearest the flames regardless. So, she decided to just fire every bullet she had where she guessed the water pipes would be… and hope for the best.

*

Today

“Olivia!” Councillor Pierre burst into the hospital ward, shoving a nurse out of the way as she rushed to her daughter’s unconscious form. “What happened!?”

“She was found in the Archive by Councillor Arnott. There had been a fire, and burst pipes – the latter of which quenched the aforementioned fire,” a doctor said, matter-of-fact, as if she wasn’t speaking to someone who could have her killed in an instant. This doctor had dealt with much worse than angry Councillors. She’d been a field medic in the Kerlian Civil War.

“Why was she there? Why did the fire start? What made the pipes burst? What happened to Olivia?” Pierre demanded.

“Unknown, unknown, multiple punctures in the pipes caused by bullets fired from your daughter’s pistol, and a combination of burn wounds, smoke inhalation and severe dehydration. We estimate she was down there several days, likely unconscious. It is frankly a miracle that she survived, Councillor.”

“Who did this?” Councillor Pierre growled, though she did not expect an answer. She calmed herself and turned to the doctor. “When will she recover?”

“Again, unknown, but I would estimate approximately a week. Thankfully the burns are not too severe, and both the smoke inhalation and dehydration are easily treatable. There may be some scarring from the burns that last some months, but they’re unlikely to be permanent. She got very, very lucky,” the doctor said.

“Thank you,” Councillor Pierre said, then turned to the door where her two middle daughters, Eva and Gabrielle, hovered. “Eva, find out who did this, and bring them to me.”

“The locks weren’t forced,” Eva shook her head. “At the Archive. Whoever did this was… they must have been…”

“One of us,” Gabrielle filled in. “A Daughter of the Council. Or a Councillor herself. Not an easy target for us to drag back, and not an advisable one if you still wish to prevent a civil war, Mother.”

Pauline snarled, but to herself rather than targeted. She stood up, nodded to the doctor, and then left, her middle daughters following. The three Pierres left the hospital, walked to their car and drove to the Pierre’s Grapevale townhouse in silence. It was little-used, with the family preferring their larger estate and a commute to Council meetings, but time was of the essence, and work still had to be done in the city.

“Seven suspect families,” Pauline began after they were sat down inside, “because we can discount the Hales; Lauchenoirian reporters stick to Jennifer like glue, and I doubt it was the four-year-old. Thoughts?”

“I doubt it was the Arnotts,” Eva shook her head. “They have nothing against us, just the Patels.”

“You assume Gabrielle was the target rather than the Archive,” Gabrielle pointed out. “From the pictures I saw, I doubt that. I don’t think they knew she was there, or if they did I don’t think they cared. They were trying to destroy something in the 2015-2019 aisle. There’s a clear pattern from where the fire was set.”

“That changes things,” Pauline said. “I agree that the Arnotts would not try to kill Olivia, but Rebecca absolutely has lots to hide. What would the world think if the first Reformist President had, say, murdered a priestess in cold blood a year before her selection? Or any of the other dubious things in her history. Rosemary is too naïve to be involved, but her mother is far more of a snake than people think.”

“She’s not the only one though,” Gabrielle added. “Every one of our families has secrets better kept hidden, though I’d doubt it is either the Chiu or the Viallamandos.”

“What makes you say that?” Pauline asked.

“Councillor Chiu seems to legitimately believe in this transparency stuff she’s started advocating for at Council. I mean, she’s declassified things that do not make her look good, and I don’t think it’s just for image reasons. Whether she’s truly had a change in heart or is going senile, it seems genuine. I could see her leaking stuff; I couldn’t see her destroying it.”

“Also, the Harts; their secrets aren’t even in the Archive,” added Eva. “They’re in the churches and they’re probably boring.”

“As for the Viallamandos, they don’t seem to have too many secrets beyond dodgy financial dealings, and I doubt that stuff is on paper anywhere,” Gabrielle continued. “That, and their Founder’s love affair but nobody has a problem with that in the present day. Maybe some stuff about Aeluria, but that wouldn’t be in the target era.”

“Arnott, Georgiou, Greenwood or Patel,” Pauline listed. “You think we should focus on them?”

“Wouldn’t suspect Georgiou either,” Eva shrugged. “She’s just not interested in the internal drama and is way too focused on foreign affairs.”

“Good,” Pauline nodded. “That would have been my assessment if I had done this alone. Arnott, Greenwood, or Patel. I have taught you well. Now we just need to find out which one it was. And what they were trying to destroy.”

“What do we do then?” Eva asked.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to start anything. Violence is not the answer here. No, the answer is leaking whatever they think is best kept secret. Why waste time bringing them down if their own secrets can do that themselves?”

[Lauchenoiria]

"I don't understand!" Amy Quinn said, throwing the international edition of the government-run Kerlian News over her shoulder. "They're just completely ignoring us! They're even using it to their advantage with the Robinsons."

"Unfortunately, the world has become so used to Kerlite having secrets. Hale, the Auroras... it has desensitised them to the Council being insane," her mother replied. "If we want the seat, we will need another strategy."

"Excuse me," her father piped up jovially, "I thought we were going for a throne, not a Council seat."

"You don't even want to do this," his wife accused. "You made that abundantly clear many years ago."

This was true. Robert Price-May had taken part in this matter - marrying Anna Quinn, fathering Amy, making claims to a throne that ceased to exist a hundred years ago - against his will. His parents had forced him into it. They'd married at 16. Anna had been eager, but Rob thought the whole thing was archaic nonsense. He had chosen, however, to forego rage in favour of finding humour in the situation. He even bought a plastic crown off the internet.

"We shifted our focus to the Council seat precisely because you had no interest, Dad," Amy pointed out.

"Yes, yes, power at any cost," he laughed. "Have you considered building a lair under a volcano?"

"Oh, grow up, Dad! We're not supervillains!" Amy threw up her hands and leaned back on the couch.

Despite her assertions, Robert did think there was something villainous about his wife and daughter. The whole thing felt distinctly wrong, to be so focused on power for the sake of... well. They said it was justice, and reclaiming an "ancestral right". He thought it was more along the lines of vengeance.

"Imogen Robinson," Anna said suddenly.

"What about her?" asked Amy.

"She is, in many ways, a natural ally. It is a pity that she is a preteen, as she has a similar claim. She should have inherited when her mother and sister were convicted of treason. Removing the whole family was unconstitutional."

"She's under fourteen," pointed out Amy. "Sitting on the Council at her age is also unconstitutional."

"None of the three of you meet the Maytown Academy requirement," Robert piped up. "If we are playing Kerlian constitutionalism."

"EUDCA is a law, not a constitutional clause, unlike the age and Council integrity measures,” Amy said.

"Correct," nodded Anna. "Imogen's seat should have been held until her birthday. And despite her age, I think we ought to get in contact. She has made it clear she wants her birthright."

"So now you're involving middle schoolers,” Robert rolled his eyes.

"She meets the unbroken female line requirement," Anna explained. "Unlike any of the Rakēs, or Parks, or the Xiomeran line. We looked into all of them but it's hard to track through the female line in patrilineal societies - and even harder among the Xiomerans.”

"I'm sure Calhualyana could help," Rob joked, "with all her domestic surveillance."

"Imogen makes way more sense," Amy said, ignoring her father. "Allow me, Mum. I'm at least somewhat closer in age."

"Good," nodded Anna, "Careful to avoid the mother or sister - or that Pierre they have living with them. Unless the Pierre seems receptive."

"Don't worry, mother, I've prepared for this my whole life."

[Lauchenoiria]

From: Amy Quinn
To: Imogen Robinson
Subject: Area of Mutual Interest
2024-04-20 05:34 UTC+8

Dear Imogen,

As someone who keeps up-to-date with Kerlian news, I expect you know who I am. I am writing to express my condolences for the loss of your family’s seat on the Council of Kerlile.

I am led to believe that you, in particular, are distressed by this loss. My family knows what it is like to be deprived of our birthright by the remnants of the Council. I believe that you and I could be of use to each other. If you are interested, do let me know.

Best wishes,

Amelia Quinn

---

From: Imogen Robinson
To: Amelia Quinn
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2024-11-17 18:53 UTC+8

Hey I just found this in my spam mail. Are you for real? If so, prove it.

---

From: Amelia Quinn
To: Imogen Robinson
CC: Anna Quinn
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
3 Attachments
2024-11-18 04:22 UTC+8

Dear Imogen,

I have attached proof of my identity. I understand your reluctance in trusting me, and I am willing to provide additional information if necessary. There is no rush; we have waited decades already.

I would like to clarify my offer. I would like both our family seats on the Council to be restored. Your mother and sister have been convicted of treason, therefore your family seat would go to you while my family’s to my mother, who I have copied into this email.

I will provide additional details if you are interested; if not you can understand my reluctance.

Best wishes,

Amelia

---

From: Imogen Robinson
To: Amelia Quinn
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-01-25 15:22 UTC+8

Hey,

Sorry your emails keep going to spam. Ok I believe you but how? The Council spent like eternity ignoring you exist so like why would they change their minds now?? ALso I got grounded for slapping a misogynist so I can only use the computer at school

Imogen

---

From: Amelia Quinn
To: Imogen Robinson
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-01-26 03:19 UTC+8

Dear Imogen,

I ask you to please be careful that neither your mother nor your teachers discover we are in contact. I do not expect your mother to be sympathetic to our cause; and Eiria is notoriously antagonistic towards Kerlile.

Firstly, before we are in a position to lobby the Council, are you safe to do so? Would your mother allow your efforts, even if she disagrees?

Best,

Amy

---

From: Imogen Robinson
To: Amelia Quinn
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-02-09 14:53 UTC+8

No lol mum would lose it. So idk what to do?

---

From: Amelia Quinn
To: Imogen Robinson
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-02-10 07:11 UTC+8

Dear Imogen,

I have been doing some research, but it has been inconclusive. May I ask if you know who your biological father is, and - to be blunt - if he is still alive?

Best,

Amy

---

From: Imogen Robinson
To: Amelia Quinn
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-02-15 14:16 UTC+8

Yeah mum had us both with the same guy but he never lived with us cause she thought the Council would find out and kill him. He still lives in Kerlile bc we couldnt bring him when we left

---

From: Amelia Quinn
To: Imogen Robinson
Subject: RE: Area of Mutual Interest
2025-02-16 09:01 UTC+8

Dear Imogen,

Give me a couple of months.

Best wishes,

Amy

[Lauchenoiria]

“Has he been in contact with you?” Carmen questioned.

“Why do you think he suddenly appeared?” Natasha asked.

“What have you been doing on those library computers?” Carmen demanded.

“Is he being put up to this?” Natasha worried.

“STOP INTERROGATING ME!” Imogen yelled, slamming her hands down on the table and standing up, her own chair falling over in her rush. The baby, Benjamin, began wailing in the next room. “I’m thirteen! How should I know?”

She turned and stormed upstairs to her room, slamming the door. Her heart rate was rather too high, and she worried that her mother or sister had managed to read the falsehood on her face. She had not technically been lying; she was not herself in contact with her father. She just knew who had been, and why. Or, at least, part of why.

Amelia Quinn had not told Imogen the entire plan. As a Kerlian, the idea of her father having custody over her was an alien notion. At first, on hearing the news, she had acted just as horrified as her mother - which, thankfully, added greatly to her ruse of not knowing what was going on. Of course, thinking it over more carefully she understood the logic. Kerlian men were much more controllable; he would be her puppet and not her guardian. The idea wouldn’t have occurred to her in the first place, however.

Her final goal was to win back her family’s seat on the Council of Kerlile. In order to do so, she would have to be at a minimum fourteen, so she had the better part of a year before any plan could be implemented regardless. Slower plans were therefore perfectly valid. But the longer she stayed in Eiria, the more impatient she became.

School bullies, in any country, will sniff out your most unique quality and find a way to use it against you. Imogen, being a gynarchist in a country of democrats, was therefore an easy target. It was unlikely any of these adolescent bullies actually cared about politics in any sort of deep way. The boys were probably not actual misogynists. But when saying something mildly sexist got such a rise out of Imogen, they would continue to do it (the girls, too).

She was constantly in trouble at school for getting into fights. She refused to dress in a socially acceptable manner, instead wearing the most Kerlian clothes she could possibly find. In opposition to the teasing, she became more and more a caricature of Kerlianness, far beyond what her own preferences were. Being thirteen, this was not a conscious choice.

Imogen was carrying out the Kerlian version of teenage rebellion against liberal parents, by becoming more conservative. It didn’t help that all the attention was going to Benjamin the baby, or that her mother and sister seemed to be perfectly accepting of their fate as exiles. Every time someone mocked Imogen’s accent, she became just a little more misandristic.

Carmen would challenge Neroli’s desire for custody. Occasional visitation was whatever, but anything further and she would take his lawyer, and raise her slightly more expensive lawyer.

If the courts bothered to ask Imogen herself, however, it would be another matter.