[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Welcome to the 2021 New Riga Olympiad ! 

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(Special Thanks to Shuell for the Joint Post!)

Central, Shuell

Alaina Arpa walked slowly into the huge stadium that had held the Shuellian Central Olympics a few short years ago, feeling intimidated with its size and stature. The unlit torch in her right hand suddenly felt much less significant, as she examined every inch of the stadium that she could. Her guards surrounded her in a tight formation. She had been nervous to enter Shuell, having heard all of the horror stories of life in the distant nation. Still, she insisted on going, and the greeting she had gotten thus far hadn't been too bad.

A large elaborately decorated cauldron sits in the center of the Olympic stadium, elevated above the ground and surrounded by armed guards. The event had been received with enthusiasm by most Shuellians, seen as both a chance for the nation to increase its own prestige and establish goodwill with various foreign countries. Crowds of spectators had lined the streets leaning towards the stadium, although none were allowed inside - this honor would only be granted to high-ranking officials and the Directorate itself. The Shuellian national anthem blared loudly from the speakers as the woman approached the unlit cauldron, with cameras televising the ceremony all across the globe.

Alaina took one last look at the intricate torch in her hand, examining the cold metal. Okay, I can't screw this up. One, Two... She placed the torch on the rim of the cauldron, tilting it slightly.

The cold metal torch suddenly caught the flame, glowing like a small star in Alaina's hand. She turned to face the few spectators allowed inside the stadium, raising the torch above her head. She, being a former Olympic Gymnast, was on the shorter side, but her grace and presence more than made up for it in the eyes of the spectators. The flame burned furiously, almost causing her to hesitate. Calm down, it's alright. Easy.

The members of the Directorate, situated in an enclosure overlooking the affair, stood and politely clapped for the athlete. As the Shuellian national anthem transitioned into Rise for the Republic, banners of the Eirian flag unfurled next to the Shuellian one - if slightly smaller in size. Cameras would zoom in on Alaina, displaying her face on large jumbotrons outside of the stadium. The guards, seemingly handpicked for their size, lined up in rows on either side of the woman, raising their rifles at an angle and forming a canopy of sorts for her to walk under.

Alaina was slightly unnerved by the canopy of guns, but she walked forward undeterred, only slightly bringing the torch down as to keep it away from the firearms. She put all her concentration into not tripping, channeling her old gymnastic instincts to move with grace and precision.

As she walked, she hummed along to the Eirian anthem blaring from the speakers, smiling slightly with pride. A Shuellian stadium blaring the Eirian anthem. That's something you don't see everyday. She thought as she reached the end of the guard lines, making her way out of the stadium and onto the street, smiling at the spectators.

Black and white confetti, like some strange mixture of ash and snow, rained down on the streets from the rooftops of office buildings. A row of barricades were set up along the road, with crowds of Shuellian citizens stationed behind them cheering on the runner. A fleet of policemen on motorcycles baring corporate advertisements flanked the woman on either side as they escorted her down the busy streets, with others visible among the crowds to ensure nothing went wrong.

Carefully sweeping some confetti from her hair, Alaina made her way down the street, occasionally glancing at her Shuellian escorts. Police with advertisements. Huh. She kept a steady pace, marching towards a bus with Eirian security guards positioned around it. Almost There. She grabbed the railing of the bus, turning around to wave one last time to the crowd. Her security guards escorted her onto the bus, securing the flame that would travel continents to its new temporary home.

And as the bus pulled away, Alaina took one last look at the droves of spectators. Who are they? Do they like it here? Would I like it here?

The crowds faded away, leaving only one place to look: Forward, to Eiria. To home.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

New Riga Olympic Planning HQ, New Riga
Monday, July 7th, 1:56 PM

Ivars Ozols, President of the Eirian Olympic Committee, tapped his leg with his finger, waiting for the elevator he was watching to open. His finely-tailored suit was slightly unkempt due to his fidgeting, small wrinkles forming on his white shirt. Even though his scheduled visitor wasn't due for a few more minutes, he could feel every second as if it were a week. His week had been hectic and busy, and he hadn't adjusted to having to wait.

The Elevator dinged, revealing a woman with brown hair in a navy blue suit. Angelica Tempson, Silver Medal Bobsled Athlete and President of the Eirian Athlete's League, stepped into the concrete floor, examining the high ceiling of the Planning Headquarter's basement. The EAL served as a union for Eirian national and Olympic athletes, and was a powerful force in Eirian Sports. Ozols extended his hand, shaking Tempson's vigorously. "Madame Tempson, it's a pleasure to see you again. If you'll just follow me…"

She nodded, raising an eyebrow at the armed guards positioned next to the elevators. "Damn, you've probably got more security than the actual Olympics. They went through my bag three times, although I can't exactly blame them. Keeping hundreds of Olympic Medals safe does take a sizeable force." Ozols swiped a small keycard through a reader at the end of the hall, nodding at the guard stationed beside it before stepping through the door.

The room was large and vast, filled with tables lined with dark oak boxes. "Wow. I've never seen this side of it. Even touching one Olympic Medal seemed like a gift too precious to receive." She glanced around the room, carefully walking over a table. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, before leaning over the table and opening her eyes.

Through a small glass pane, three shining medals sat on a felt interior. Each medal was outlined with the two-part Eirian Olympic Symbol, with the words "New Riga 2021" printed on the lower part of the circle. The gold medal held a single large four-sided star taking up the remaining space, while the silver had two mid-sized stars, and the bronze had three. All three medals glinted in the soft light, almost glowing.

"Wow. Incredible." She resisted the urge to touch the box, walking over to the next table full of boxes. "Are these all of them?"

"Yep. Plus a few extra. You never know when something catastrophic could happen, and it's best to be prepared." He followed her gaze, smiling a little. It hadn't been necessary for him to invite Tempson to see the medals, but he wanted to show a bit of goodwill to the EAL. Plus, he wanted a bit of extra leeway if Eirian athletes were to get upset. Imagine what a catastrophe that would be. He thought nervously, knowing the unofficial power that the EAL had over sports organizers and the press.

Angelica walked from table to table, noting the metal lable marker on each. Aquatics, Biathlon, Fencing, Figure Skating, Gymnastics… The Aquatics medal table was by far the largest, followed by the Fencing, Skiing, Speed Skating, and Gymnastics tables. Wow. She went over to the aquatics section, counting each box on the extended table. Eighteen boxes. Fifty Four medals for a single sport. Damn. "I never really appreciated how much work is done to make these. How much work is put into every single detail… All just to get everything ready for a few weeks." .

"We've been planning a few of the greatest weeks New Riga will ever see. And now, it's all ready."

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Main Olympic Stadium, New Riga, Eiria
June 9th, 2021, 7:59 PM

Crowds of cheering fans were packed into New Riga's main Olympic Stadium like sardines, a constant restlessness spreading through them like an uneven tide. A large countdown timer was posted on every screen in sight, counting down every second of the audience's anticipation.

Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One…

"Now presenting, Chancellor William Lancaster!" A large spotlight hovered over the entrance to the stadium, as the Chancellor of Eiria entered to an applauding crowd. He was moving quickly, being sure to wave to as much of the crowd as he could before quickly taking his place in the official stand, aside Liang Wentao, the Laeralian President of the International Olympic Committee. The applause died down, allowing for the spotlight to shift back to the Stadium's entrance once more.

A group of uniformed soldiers marched through the opening, an Eirian flag stretched between them. The opening bars of Rise for the Republic echoed throughout the stadium, played by a large military band near the center of the stadium. The audience watched, silently entranced, as the Army Soldiers marched the flag towards the heart of the stadium. A single soldier hoisted the flag up the large flagpole, the banner waving slowly in the light breeze.

The end anthem slowly faded to a whisper as the flag waved, the lights diminishing with the music. The crowds burst into excited whispers, anticipating one of the most memorable parts of the Olympiad: the artistic programme.

The lights faded back up, revealing hundreds of black-clad dancers with dark flags, frozen in an array of positions. As the intense, rapid beats of Janis Dreimanis's Valor Symphony rang out through the speakers, the dancers began a fast dance in small groups, symbolizing the Eirian Warring Feudal period. Small groups of colored flags led charges against one another, eventually fading away to fight another group again. The chaos and disarray was all perfectly organized, choreographed extensively by teams of dance instructors.

As the "Battles" raged on and on, a slow, yet steady violin solo started increasing in volume, and a spotlight shone on one single dancer, holding a furled flag. As the Symphony transformed into Bacri's 9th Violin Concerto, the dancer ran between crowds of fighting dancers, bringing the clashes to a standstill and attracting all of the eyes in the stadium. As she continued an elegant solo dance, her large flag slowly unfurling, revealing the Eirian Republic's Flag. The Dancer represented Irina Pecs, the first Chancellor of the united Eirian Republic.

The rest of the dancing groups burst into joyful dancing, exchanging dark flags for multicolored ones. And, one by one, a small line of dancers followed "Irina Pecs" in a grand and joyful relay race with the Eirian flag. As each dancer took their turn, the rest of the performance shifted styles around them, each representing a time period and its Chancellor.

After a long while of entrancing dances and chronological styles, the music slowed to a halt, and a male dancer placed the flag on a stand before falling into darkness. The flag spotlight faded, leaving only faint traces of the dancers with black flags. This was the "Dark Period", symbolizing Darrin's regime and those who suffered under it. Four dancers stood apart, their flags crossed to form a rectangle they carried on their shoulders. The audience was almost completely silent, seeing the powerful tribute to those lost under the regime and in the war.

The lights faded back in, and another dancer grabbed the precious flag, her dark hair flowing through the breeze. She helped some of her fellow dancers up, but her time in the spotlight was short, and she passed it to a blond dancer as the rest of the dancers were getting back on their feet and exchanging flags. He helped more of his fellow dancers up, beginning to move and dance at a light but rapid pace. After a few rounds, he moved back to the center, gesturing with the flag to the viewing stand, where the actual Eirian Chancellor sat, watching.

The rest of the dancers closed ranks, making one last toss with their flags before holding him above their heads. From a camera placed overhead, the reason behind their formation was revealed: they had formed a giant, waving Eirian Flag. As applause rang out from the crowds, the dancers retreated, and the lights fell.

The spotlight shifted to the official's stand, with the Chancellor standing behind the podium. "I'm sure we all are amazed by that amazing spectacle. Can we give another round of applause for our amazing performers!" The audience obliged, rooting and cheering for the exhausted dancers now sitting on the edge of the stadium.

Once the applause died down, Lancaster cleared his throat and spoke again, this time wi "We are gathered here on a somber anniversary. On this day, seven years ago, we officially ended our brutal civil war, and restored the Republic to all of Eiria. And now, here in the city that once held one of the longest and most devastating battles of that war, we gather here to celebrate a triumph. Not of the war, but of human will and determination."

As Lancaster spoke, a spotlight shone on a relay race of former Eirian Olymians, passing the Olympic torch in a grand relay race. "Although the war is still fresh in the minds of a great number of us, we must move forward, to our new futures. These New Riga Olympic Games are a great symbol of that, and how a city once devastated by war and carnage can be restored and rebuilt better than it was before."

The relay runners grew closer and closer to the cauldron as Lancaster continued his speech. "And now, I must extend my heartfelt gratitude to the volunteers, athletes, and coaches who have made these Olympic Games possible. I would also like to welcome our honorable guest athletes. Your determination and valor is an example for all!"

The final athlete in the relay had taken the torch, slowing to a walk for the final steps to the giant unlit torch. "And now, it gives me great pleasure to declare the 2021 New Riga Olympiad open!" A crescendo of music played throughout the stadium as the final runner put the torch to the oil and set the cauldron ablaze. Cheers rang out throughout the stadium, and fans from many nations yelled and screamed with joy.

After about a minute of cheering, Lancaster took the mic once again, clearing his throat to get the attention of the excited crowd. "And now, presenting the Olympic Athletes! Let's give them a warm welcome to Eiria!". The spotlight shifted back to the entrance, and the first athletes entered to crowds of loud fans chanting and cheering from the packed stadium seats.

[Slokais]

The tunnels inside the stadium were full of athletes, Towards the front, the small Koldan Delegation huddled together
"This is a moment of unity for our nation, this Olympics can bring the people together, Koldar, Hasca, Ren everyone," said Xane Faye the Ethnically Hascan Point Guard of the basketball team.
The team was dressed in yellow, and green with a black star in front of the group Ndoye Nadour of the Baseball team held the flag of Kolda proudly. This was an important time for unity in a nation that had been fighting ethnic tension for most of its existence. Earlier that week a young Hasca man had been killed while in a Ren part of Port Kolda, by private security forces. Despite making up 10% of the population, Ren was often the richest and lived in exclusive areas in large compounds. Then had different schools, churches and often acted with violence against "outsiders". The nation needed healing and Team Kolda would try to do just that.

Farther back was the Mallacaland Team, each of them had to be funded to come here, as the Mallacaland Sports Committee has collapsed in the wake of the revolution so everyone had come here on either Party or company funds. The Baseball team stood together, they had come here based on their own funding, they took their combined salaries as well money for various tournaments. Unlike everyone else they were not backed by a political party, they did not come here on a first-class flight or with a trainer. They just brought their equipment in with them into their rooms.
Meanwhile "The Pride of Mallacaland" Basketball Team has come here on the funds of the National Values Party, each of them signed contacts to only say stuff that would support the ideals of NVP, back in the village earlier in the day they laughed at the Baseball Team keeping their gear in the rooms because they could pay the fee of an equipment room. The Baseball Teams star player Ibrahim Kamza had practiced his famous hitting in the parking lot outside the Slokais Islands building who has been nice enough to let him practice there.

Speaking of Slokais, the Slokais Delegation was an assortment of Athletes dressed in Blue and White. There were so many all with stories of how they got there. The Basketball Team had worn red over their jackets to protest the corruption of the Governor of Point Lee. He had received the funds from social programs for himself which had affected the Costeno population mostly. Last night the Governor took to Social Media for his supporters to boycott the Basketball Team as well as Drywall Ball League for condemning his actions. The Governor was up for election in the summer of 2021.

[Xiomera]

The Milintican delegation entered next. The front row of athletes were dressed in traditional Paora and Huenyan outfits, showcasing the dual heritage of the modern Milintican state in colorful fashion. Behind them were several rows of athletes dressed in identical red jumpsuits and blue berets bearing the Milintican star, and each carrying a small blue and red book. The Milinticans cheerfully smiled and waved to the crowd as they walked into the stadium, singing their national anthem. As they reached the end of the anthem, the Milintican group stopped in the middle of the stadium. The front row suddenly shifted positions, with the Paora taking the front row and the Huenyan Milinticans falling behind them. In unison, the two rows fell into a ceremonial stance. They began to perform the traditional haʻa dance, with the sounds of their stomping feet and shouts echoing throughout the stadium. As they reached the conclusion of their dance, they bowed to the stadium crowd. The crowd cheered enthusiastically, caught up in the excitement of the ceremonial dance that had just been performed. Having ensured that their entrance would be quite unforgettable, the Milinticans moved on for the next group.

The delegation from Huenya was next. Despite being perhaps the newest delegation in the Olympics, the Huenyans also made a memorable appearance. A group of five Huenyans, representing the four original Huenyan ethnic groups and others living in Huenya, led the group under their new flag. For the first time, the blue flag of Huenya would fly at the Olympics, followed by several more rows of Huenyans. All of them were wearing blue and white tracksuits bearing the name and flag of their new country. Like the Milinticans, the Huenyans waved enthusiastically to the crowd, with huge smiles on their faces. They were distinct underdogs heading into the Olympics, having barely cobbled together a team in time. But it was clear that no matter what their chances were, they were immensely proud and happy to be able to represent both their country and its aspirations for the future. For them, their appearance in the Olympics made Huenya real in a big way. From his seat in the stands, the new Great Speaker Texōccoatl smiled in pride and waved to the delegation.

After a few moments of perhaps-wise delay by the Eirian organizers to provide separation between the Huenyans and the next delegation, the delegation from Xiomera marched in. Literally.

At the head of their delegation, a single Xiomeran dressed in traditional garb carried the orange and gold Imperial flag high and proud. If Xiomera was a chastened nation after recent events, one would never see it in Xiomerans themselves. The Olympic delegation was no different. In fact, as representatives of the Empire, they would make it a point to be anything but quiet.

All of the Xiomeran athletes were clad in identical black jumpsuits and black boots, with orange and gold trim vaguely similar to military uniforms. They stared straight ahead, not acknowledging the crowd or the other delegations at all. The sound of their marching echoed in a suddenly silent stadium. They allowed no expression to cross their face until they arrived at their designated place in the stadium. Stopping on a dime, they turned with military precision to face the stands where the Xiomeran Prime Minister, Toquihu, was observing with his entourage. With a sharp Imperial salute to the Prime Minister, they shouted the Imperial motto in unison. As the cry of "long live the Empire" echoed and finally faded, the Prime Minister returned the salute with a smile.

Observing Toquihu and the Xiomeran delegation, Texōccoatl gave the Prime Minister a glare so icy that if he had been blessed with superpowers, Toquihu would have become a block of ice on the spot. Toquihu pointedly ignored both Texōccoatl and the Huenyans.

[Libertas Omnium Maximus]

A plume of icy sludge crashed roughly upon the face of Elisa McKey as she skidded around the final gate in the Women's Alpine Downhill event. A sort of lingering tenseness, which had overtaken the 26-year-old skier's extremities just as she launched from the gate, caused McKey to feel as though her legs and arms were being slowly pulled out of their sockets in some twisted ritual. In fact, the rookie athlete's mind was so distracted by the tearing sensation in her limbs, along with the blistering wind, which penetrated like daggers into the soft flesh of her exposed cheeks, that she had completely surrendered control of her rhythmic serpentine turns to an internal auto-pilot. The dreams of an entire lifetime now rested on the shoulders of McKey's training and innate spiritual connection to the wind-swept mountainside, which had no choice but to bare her gracefully through the greatest challenge of her life. 

A common misconception held by many who have never truly experienced a moment of athletic nirvana is that time slows down to a near standstill as champions near the apex of their greatest feat. It's assumed that, at least for a few millionths of a second, the men and women who have reached the highest echelon of their event are left in a state of pensive serenity. This is false, entirely so, in fact. Nothing about McKey's run felt serene, peaceful, or the culmination of anything whatsoever. Quite the contrary, in fact, her descent from the mountaintop was a violent affair, like a huge wave colliding with a moss-covered jetty in a great storm. With every awkward contortion of her body around a gate, McKey felt of stab of panic that she new would never dissipate as long as she continued to ski competitively. She was always standing on the precipice of total failure, even as she rocketed through the final gate and towards the termination of the run. One of her skis being off by even a single degree could send her sprawling into the gaping maw of defeat and humiliation. 

A moment, or perhaps a lifetime, passed before McKey had tossed aside one of her poles and was attempting to kick off a ski. The sky was booming with the loudest round of cheers she had ever heard. before long, McKey was approached by her personal trainer, an older, stoic gentleman by the name of Eric Meryl, who had been coaching some of Libertas Omnium Maximus's best skiers since the early 1990s. 

"How'd I do?" She asked while gulping down breaths of crisp and searing air. Meryl, whose face was largely obscured by a thick, toothbrush-like mustache, showed almost now emotion as he steadied the exhausted athlete and collected her poles. 

"You did the best." He responded suddenly, still not letting on the exact meaning of his word selection.

"What do you mean, "the best"?" McKey inquired, beginning to realize that she may have actually done the impossible. There's no way anyone from Libertas Omnium Maximus could ever actually win an alpine event on the international stage, she thought, especially seeing as the nation maintains fewer than a dozen ski resorts, most of which are small and only operable between late-December and early-March. This would be beyond historic. 

Meryl attempted to respond, but his words were lost as the crowd's cheers reached a deafening level, drowning out all other communication. Boldly displayed on a nearby JumboTron was McKey's record-breaking time: 1:41.82.

[Xiomera]

Women's Softball, Group Stage

"I think that's the nail in the coffin," Ayauhxomitl said with a smirk as she laid her bat down on the ground. Behind her, the catcher in the Huenyan uniform looked at the sky in dismay. Ayauhxomitl had just hit a home run, allowing multiple Xiomerans on base to run in and ending the chances of the Huenyan team to win.

In the stands, the Huenyans who had made the trip to the Olympics to cheer on their women's team were in dismay. The Xiomeran fans, however, were excitedly cheering. A fair number of them were taunting the Huenyan fans. Eirian police kept a polite but firm distance between the two groups, warning Xiomeran fans to either stop taunting or be removed from the stadium.

"Better luck next time," Ayauhxomitl said to the Huenyan catcher. "That is, if your country even still exists by the time the next Olympics get here."

The Huenyan catcher rose from the ground, an angry expression on her face, but the umpire wisely stepped next to her, murmuring something under his breath. Ayauhxomitl laughed, then trotted off to complete her game-winning run.

Huitzinali, the Huenyan catcher, grit her teeth until she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. The Huenyan pitcher, Ixotaxotl, was standing next to her. "I know this sucks," she said. "But hold it in. We'll get them next time. And there will be a next time."

Huitzinali nodded, staring at the celebrating Xiomeran players on the other side of the field before turning away to walk with Ixotaxotl to their locker room.

---

Several hours later, at a bar in the center of New Riga, the Huenyan players were drowning their sorrows in Eirian liquor. They had not only bought their own drinks, but had been the recipients of much free alcohol from sympathetic Eirians who were just as annoyed with Xiomera as the Huenyan players were. By the time midnight rolled around, the Huenyan players were several degrees away from sober.

"Oh, you have to be kidding me," Ixotaxotl said, putting her glass down with a sigh. Huitzinali and the other Huenyan players looked up, to see their Xiomeran counterparts entering the bar. "They would have to walk into this bar," she said with another sigh.

"Maybe we should just leave," Huitzinali murmured. Ixotaxotl nodded, and began leading their group out of the bar. Before they could exit, however, the Xiomerans noticed them. Ayauhxomitl laughed, leading her equally-unsober group over to where the Huenyans had been trying to make an unseen exit. "Hey, it's the losers! Having a good night? I can't imagine you are after we embarrassed you," Ayauhxomitl said, leaning over to laugh in Huitzinali's face.

"Just get out of our way and let us leave, please," Huitzinali said, trying to walk around. The other Xiomerans blocked her path. "Aww, you don't want to talk to me? Well, I want to talk to you, you loser wearing a traitor's flag. What are you going to do about it?" Ayauhxomitl said, tapping Huitzinali in the chest.

"Oh, screw this," Ixotaxotl said under her breath, winding up like she was about to throw a fastball. The resulting punch knocked Ayauhxomitl back several feet before she finally fell on her posterior with a shocked look on her face.

Within minutes, Eirian police were pouring into the bar to break up the resulting brawl between Huenyans and Eirians on one side, and Xiomerans on the other. The police seemed to already be all too experienced with this scenario, judging from the looks of exasperation on their faces. Huitzinali and Ixotaxotl managed to sneak the Huenyan players out a side door, leaving the Xiomeran team to explain themselves to some very displeased Eirian cops.

As the Huenyan team ran down the streets of New Riga back to their dorm, Huitzinali looked at Ixotaxotl. "I thought you said to hold it in."

"What can I say? I changed my mind," Ixotaxotl said with a grin.

Huitzinali laughed in response, running with her teammates.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(A Joint Post With Xiomera)

Olympic Village, New Riga, Eiria
June 22nd, 2021, 11:03 AM

In the Eirian Olympic Village, surrounded by tall apartments and training buildings, a small square sat under the watchful eyes of the Olympic Guards. The forum was mainly for Athletes and their families to converse and chill when not competing, with an absurd amount of security to protect any relaxing athletes.

A few Eirian athletes had set up small tables in the forum, an array of small items and momentos for finished athletes spread out on them. Each table was labeled with a sport, and some were empty, signifying that the sport hadn't finished yet. Daniel Anderson, a gold medal backstroke swimmer, waved to an approaching group of visiting athletes, a huge grin on his face.

The approaching athletes in question were a group of Xiomeran female fencers. Cihitlina, the female fencer who had been upset by a Huenyan in the early round, led them over. “Um…..hello,” she said uncertainly. Her expression clearly indicated that she didn’t know if she was about to be mocked or praised.

"Hello, and welcome! You guys are fencers, right? You can get some free Fencing Gloves over there, as a memento of the Olympiad! You wouldn't believe the process we had to go through to get the Olympic Committee to let us hand out mementos, but hey, it's worth it." Anderson talked fast, occasionally brushing is dark hair to the side. He had a reputation for being one of the most sociable and cheerful Eirian swimmers, also known for going on odd tangents that would, somehow, always keep the attention of everyone around him.

”That’s very thoughtful of you,” Cihitlina said, smiling in return. Her thoughts were interrupted by another voice. “Thoughtful, but very odd. Those who lose, and embarrass the Empire, usually don’t get rewarded, even with a trinket.”

Aconatl, the gold medal winner in the mens’ sabre competition, was standing a short distance away with a disapproving expression. “Is it normal for Eirians to reward mediocrity and failure? I find this a bit surprising.”

Daniel's grin faded, and he faltered, not knowing how to respond. His aversion to conflict seemingly dissolved his confidence, and he became a bit more withdrawn. Maya Rivera, a bronze medal swimmer, came over and smiled with one eyebrow raised. "Well, we're all Olympians. We've all trained for years and gone through hell to get here. Even getting to the Olympics is an amazing achievement." She picked up a glove and extended it to Aconatl, a small smile extended with it. "So, here's your trinket reward."


”Perhaps in some countries, ‘just getting here’ is good enough. Xiomerans usually have higher standards. Usually,” Aconatl said, looking pointedly at Cihitlina. The female fencer looked down, also unsure how to respond.

“Xiomerans also usually have higher standards than being rude to their hosts,” another voice boomed over Aconatl’s shoulder. The male fencer whirled around, and looked up. And up.

Metotoa, the center for the Xiomeran mens’ basketball team, was looming behind him. “You should have better manners. You also shouldn’t belittle a teammate.”

Aconatl sneered. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re defending her. You’re a loser too, judging from your performance earlier - “

Metotoa stepped closer to Aconatl, growling at him in a low voice. “Walk. Away.”

The male fencer snorted, but wisely walked away. He pointedly ignored Rivera’s offered gift.

Metotoa sighed. “Please excuse his rudeness. We’re not all XCP jackasses.” Cihitlina giggled at that, albeit with a look over her shoulder.

"No worries. We're gracious hosts. Although I think the guards are on edge..." She said, looking nervously at the numerous guards around the forum. Damn, I didn't cause too much damage, did I? She cleared her throat, swallowing her nerves and donning an actor-like expression. "I don't think the basketball items are finished yet, I'm sorry. They're planning to make bracelets out of the nets, as well as giving out some of the basketballs themselves. Seems like an elementary arts and crafts project, but hey, it's not a bad idea. The organizers were big on authenticity, for example swimmers get a small vial of water from the pool they swam in." She took out the small plastic vial from her pocket and showed it off.

”I do look forward to receiving the bracelet when the event is done, even if my team was done far sooner than we hoped for.” Metotoa smiled broadly. “But it is an interesting custom to have the host give their guests a gift. In Xiomera, we do it the other way around. And so….”

Metotoa reached into his bag, pulling several cans out and placing them on the table. “Metoctli. It’s a traditional Xiomeran drink, nothing like what you’re used to, probably. But hey, alcohol is alcohol,” he shrugged. “Those of us who are ‘embarrassments to the Empire’ had planned to drink our sorrows away, but we have enough to share.”

Rivera handed the cans out to her fellow athletes, nodding her thanks. "I've never tried Metoctli before. I'm actually rarely drink at all, despite the Eirian stereotype. But I look forward to the opportunity to try it." She gestured to the rest of the athletes, continuing to speak. "We're actually about to head down to Portside Market. It's the largest market in Eiria, and apparently boasts the freshest seafood in the country, due to the massive amounts of fishing boats that go in and sell there. What do you all have planned?"

”We don’t have any plans. At least, not any official ones,” Metotoa said with a wry smile. The Xiomeran teams had come to Eiria with official minders from the Xiomeran government, but he had managed to ditch theirs.

"Ah. Well, would you want us to show you around New Riga sometime? Most of us aren't from around here either, so a good portion of us will be taking our first tours around here as well." Rivera said, glancing to her fellow athletes for any nonverbal objections. She didn't find any, much to her relief.

”That would be nice,” Cihitlina said. “It’s not like we have anything else to do now.”

“Hey, neither does my team!” Metotoa said, with a slight laugh at the unceremonious exit his team had made from the games. “We’d be happy to take you up on that. We just have to ditch the suits,” he added, referring to the team minders. “They’re all as smart as Aconatl, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

"Ah. Well, we don't want to get you in trouble, but If you'd like to tag along with us, we'd be happy to give you a crash course on Eirian culture." Daniel said, making a subconscious glance for any Xiomeran minders in the area. "Would you be able to get away for a few hours today?"

”We should be able to manage that,” Metotoa replied with a smile. “We’ll just tell the blockheads from the government that someone is trying to read an unapproved book somewhere or something and they’ll run off like chickens to investigate.”

The Eirians looked at each other, slightly unnerved at the mention of 'Unapproved books'. Rivera spoke up, looking slightly less confident. "Well, we can go grab a few books from a store to lead them on a wild and pointless chase, if that'd help. Maybe a few of the classic egalitarians, such as Ozola or Bastien. They'd probably give your minders heart attacks." She checked her phone. "We've got about an hour until the next volunteers arrive and let us free. Do you want us to pick up the books for you, and meet here then?"

”That sounds good,” Cihitlina said. “It should be entertaining to lead them on a silly chase for a bit, and I have wanted to see the city.”

---

The Eirian and Xiomeran Athletes stood at one of the entrance to the Portside Market, most of them in awe at the sheer size and noise. The smell of a bunch of cooking foods and spices filled the air as the Olympians stood frozen, taking in the ambiance.

Stalls selling Food, fresh ingredients, and consumer goods filled row after row of the market. Stands selling Jewelery, clothes, and other handmade goods were also present, attracting a sizeable crowd wherever they popped up. Large seating areas with tables and chairs sat on the Corners of rows, many of them filled by patrons eating their lunches.

Daniel Anderson looked at the rest of the group, smiling a little. "So? Would you all like to grab some lunch? There's nothing like authentic Eirian food fresh from a market."

Metotoa and Cihitlina smiled back in response. “That sounds great. We’ll let you lead the way, you probably have a better idea about what’s good.”

Anderson and Rivera nodded, each taking a side of the row to translate the signs. "First, it looks like we have a few bread and pastry shops. While most of the menu is dessert, the one on the right here has a few versions of Duvmaize, or literally "Two-Bread". The baker bakes a certain bread dough halfway, then adds some filling in the middle, patches it up, and finishes baking it. Lots of filling choices, usually with some kind of sauce and a few vegetables. It's quite filling, but a very good choice."

Rivera picked up as Anderson paused, walking at a slow pace to examine the shops. "This side of the row has some fresh fish grills, cooking up skewers and a lot of other fish and shrimp dishes in the grill. There's a meat stall, surprisingly, serving up a bunch of skewers and some sandwiches. A bit more expensive than the fish, but still amazingly cheap, for Eirian standards. We've also got what looks like a soup shop, serving Sipolion soup, which is a light broth with onions and mushrooms, and a tomato soup with shrimp and some more vegetables."

Anderson picked up, his substantial height forcing him to take smaller steps to stay even with Rivera. "There's also a long stand over here that has a 'Flatbread Walk', so they bake the flatbread and you choose the toppings, sauces, etcetera. There's also a small stall serving up a particularly spicy chicken recipe, by the smell of it."

As they approached a seating area, Rivera pointed out a few final stalls. "These last few are beverage stands. There's a stand selling tea and coffee, one selling chilled drinks and pop, or 'Soda', I guess. And, of course, we have the booze stands." They stopped, turning back. "I'm sorry if this is overwhelming, it's a difficult decision to make in a foreign country. Did any of those sound good to you guys?" Rivera asked, concerned she'd overwhelmed the Xiomerans.

”It all sounds good, that’s the problem,” Cihitlina laughed. “Maybe we can sample some different things.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying a little of everything,” Metotoa said, looking around eagerly.

“With your appetite, I don’t doubt it,” Cihitlina replied with a smirk. Metotoa looked sheepish, but didn’t deny it.

Rivera smiled. "Alright, sounds good! If you two will find us a table, we'll be back with a nice table full of food!"

---

After a few minutes, Rivera and Anderson met the Xiomerans at a Four-Person table, each carrying a large tray of various foods that they began laying out. From bowls of soup(with cups for each person) to a large flatbread, to some seasoned meat and fish skewers, to what looked like a light loaf of bread, the Eirians came through with a surprisingly large banquet, as well as disposable silverware and plates. "Here we go! Choose what you'd like, and dig in!" Anderson exclaimed, grabbing a skewer and a slice of flatbread.

The two Xiomerans thanked their hosts for their hospitality, and began sampling the different items. “Mmmph. These skewers are great,” Cihitlina murmured through a mouthful of food.

“It doesn’t surprise me you would go for the food on a pointy object,” Metotoa said jokingly as he finished a piece of flatbread. “Is this the sort of thing people here do often?” he asked Anderson and Rivera.

"Not quite to this extent, no. These foods and goods are common around Eiria, but not usually in one place like this." Maya said in between bites of the spiciest chicken skewer she could find. "They really shouldn't advertise this as spicy. It's barely seasoned."

Anderson looked over at her, eyes wide. "If I ate one of those, I'd be crying and chugging a gallon of milk. Sometimes I think youre tongue is scarred or something."

He took another bite off of a shrimp skewer, tapping one end on the table. "Street food isn't terribly common, but it's not exactly rare either, if that make sense. Usually restaurants are in proper buildings with seating included. But markets have their own benefits. They're pretty cost effective, all things considered. Especially for all of this." He gestured at the table, almost dropping his skewer in the process.

”We have street food all over the place, back home. Food trucks and carts are pretty commonplace and they sell all sorts of food,” Cihitlina said. “I love to go to the markets and side streets in the Italman part of Tlālacuetztla; they have the best food trucks,” she added wistfully as she bit into a piece of flatbread.

“The big difference between this place and the markets in Italman is that there aren’t stupid ISA minders everywhere you go. Since Calhualyana took over, her ‘additions’ to the streets back home have kind of soured the flavor.” Metotoa sighed as he took a bite of a skewer of meat. “I like the flavor of freedom that they’ve added here. Food tastes better.”

“Metotoa…..” Cihitlina said, a slightly nervous tone entering her voice as she looked around. The Portside Market was a world away from the streets of Tlālacuetztla and its now ubiquitous ISA watchers, but she couldn’t help her reaction.

Rivera raised an eyebrow, subconsciously glancing around as well. "Well, I'm glad that you enjoy the food. And as for the freedom, to put it this way, I'm grateful to be Eirian. My country has its list of flaws, and the language isn't the most straightforward. But hey, good food, and good books. I can't complain that much."

”If you think your language is less than straightforward, try studying Huenyan sometime,” Cihitlina said with a grin. “I mean, we understand it, but everyone else seems to have quite the challenge with it.”

“You mean studying Xiomeran,” Metotoa said, yanking another chunk of meat from his skewer with a grimace. “We’re not supposed to call our language Huenyan anymore, even though it is Huenyan and has been for centuries….”

“Hey, calm down,” Cihitlina said, putting her hand on his shoulder. Metotoa finally laid his skewer down with a shake of his head.

“I apologize if I am bringing the mood down. You’re both gracious hosts and I am not upset with you. It’s just….” He looked around the market, watching the happy people walking around and enjoying themselves. “This just reminds me of how Xiomera used to be, before the war. We had our issues, but under Topilpopoca, and then Yauhmi, we were at least somewhat free and moving in the right direction. Now, I can’t help but miss that. You’re both very lucky, you still have what we lost.”

“Metotoa!” Cihitlina hissed, her alarm visible now. Mentioning Yauhmi, much less praising her, was a guaranteed ticket to a session with a “loyalty officer” at an ISA facility.

Rivera raised her hands in a calming gesture, trying to keep the Xiomerans from having panic attacks over what was supposed to be a fun and relaxing lunch. "It's okay. I highly doubt any Xiomeran minders are anywhere near us." She said, rapping her knuckles on the table. "You're safe. And don't worry about bringing the mood down. Political discussion is commonplace in Eiria, and it's not punished. I'm sorry that you have to deal with that at home." She looked Metotoa in the eyes, summoning the most calming tone she could muster. "I'd actually recommend you get your frustrations out here, because you won't be punished here."

”That….is a refreshing thought. Not being punished for my beliefs.” Metotoa managed to bring a smile to his face. “How does your country handle such things? People here are free to protest, and to speak, but does the society object to those who disagree with your leaders?”

"No, because people disagreeing is how we get our leaders. Civil debate is encouraged, because it helps reveal potential leaders' opinions and how well they can defend them. And in the end, whoever's opinions you agree with the most, or the leader you think would serve the country best, you vote for them. Hell, we've got a coalition of four competing parties leading our country right now. Without debate and dissent, our government wouldn't exist." Rivera said, trying to explain with a level tone.

”Fascinating,” Metotoa said, taking a sip of a beverage. “So, then, you would argue that your diversity of opinion actually makes you stronger, unlike our government that claims only uniformity of thought and purpose can ensure true strength?”

She thought for a few moments, choosing her wording carefully."Well.... That's a difficult question. From the outside, our democracy looks looks chaotic and fragile, right? But to the average Eirian voter, we're used to that, and our government survives and thrives through the political carnage. It's not as big of a deal as other countries might think. However, and this is just my opinion, a 'Uniform' authoritarian government can't handle any variety of opinion, because any other opinion reminds the people that 'Oh, yeah, I can be different!' The 'Unity' authoritarian mantra only works if no one disagrees, because it looks like a proper lie if any other opinions are voiced. So yes, I'd say our diversity of thought makes us stronger, simply because people voicing their opinions isn't enough to make our government collapse."

”I see,” Metotoa said after a moment. He took another sip. “So would you say, then, that an authoritarian government is merely a facade of strength? Like a piece of wood painted gold to look solid, but rotting on the outside. That it cannot tolerate opposition precisely because it is so fragile and knows that challenges would break it.”

Cihitlina, at this point, had an expression on her face that was a cross between nervous and curious.

"It's not a bad analogy. And in the scheme of national power, it may seem that an authoritarian government may hold all of it... But the greatest holder of power in every country is the people, because that's the whole point of a government. So, what the authoritarians have to do, is basically bluff their way into making the people thinking that the government both has all of the power, and is working in their interest. Once they've done that, they can control the power of the people to their heart's content, so long as they don't really anger the populace. Otherwise the people would rise up, and that wouldn't be good for them. That's why other opinions and dissent are so lethal to authoritarian governments, because it shows the people that the government doesn't necessarily hold the most power in a country."

Rivera thought for a few more moments, forgetting her plate of food. "Let me put it this way: If you have something really heavy you want to move, is it easier by yourself, or with a bunch of friends lifting at different places? It's a horrible analogy, but do you get what I mean?"

Anderson was eating away at his own food, listening to the conversation, but not talking.

”I believe I do. After all, my team is made up of many players, but we all have different roles to play and positions to fill. If we all tried doing the same thing at once, we wouldn’t do very well. Although, we couldn’t have done much worse than we did in the Olympics.” The softly self-deprecating laugh Metotoa gave at his remark was soon subsumed by an expression of thought. “I agree with you. And I am glad we had this talk. It helps me with a decision I must make.”

At that statement, Cihitlina looked like she was about to choke on her water, but instead coughed and laid the glass down slowly.

Rivera drew back a bit at that last statement. Oh no. What did I do? She put on another of her acting facades, trying not to act phased. "Of course. I love teaching, personally, but politics isn't my best subject. I'm working on becoming a Languages teacher, when I'm done with my Olympic career. And maybe a swim coach." She chuckled to herself, grabbing a cup of soup and a spoon. "Dang, the soup's still hot. Impressive."

Metotoa smiled in response, picking up on Rivera’s cue to change the subject and engaging her in a discussion about her future plans. The Xiomerans eagerly discussed the Eirians’ future plans with them, but were strangely silent on their own.

The rest of the evening was spent in a long and friendly chat about less serious matters and a great many more food and drink items being sampled. The two Xiomerans were genuinely sad to return to the Olympic Village after their new Eirian friends dropped them off.

The next day, a DTNS reporter was surprised when Metotoa and Cihitlina approached them. “We have a story for you,” Metotoa said.

The reporter smiled, expecting that the Xiomerans were just looking to get their names in the media. “What would that be?”

Metotoa looked at Cihitlina, who nodded. She took his hand.

“We are two members of the Xiomeran Olympic team…..and we are announcing that we are defecting and requesting asylum in Eiria.”

The reporter almost dropped her pen in shock, before quickly turning to her cameraman. “Let’s run with this.” She turned back to the two Xiomerans, who were smiling.

---

Maya Rivera sat in her hotel room, watching her TV with an empty popcorn bowl in her lap. Her Silver and Bronze medals sat on the small kitchenette counter, delicately placed on sheets of paper as to prevent scratches. She flipped through the channels on the small TV, trying to find a replacement to the action movie that just finished. As she scrolled passed the news, a headline caught her eye. Wait, what?

She scrolled back, watching a DNTS reporter interviewing two familiar Xiomeran athletes. The headline "Xiomeran Athletes Defect to Eiria" almost made her drop the glass bowl. What?! In just a few seconds She went from surprise, to anger, to guilt, to satisfaction. Well, I'll be damned.

Welcome home.

[Xiomera]

At the media center of the Olympics, the Xiomeran Prime Minister Toquihu was addressing the media, an angry look on his face. "The recent desertion of two of our athletes, in our opinion, is no mere coincidence or twist of fate. We believe that the Eirians have deliberately tricked, suborned or brainwashed them somehow to desert our team and their homeland. Is this the spirit of the Olympics? Is this sportsmanship? Is this how Eirians treat their guests? The government of Xiomera shall deliver a formal protest to the Eirian government about this outrage and demand the return of our citizens. This is not a decision any Xiomeran would have come to on their own and we are not prepared to let such trickery and deception stand."

"In order to prevent further such attempts to suborn or kidnap our athletes, effective immediately, all Xiomeran athletes who have completed their competitions will be sent home for their protection. In addition, moving forward, all Xiomeran athletes who have yet to compete will immediately return home after their competitions are concluded. Xiomera will, as a result, not be participating in the closing ceremonies of these Games. We lay the blame for this directly at the feet of the Eirian government as it is clear our athletes are not safe here. We also demand that the organizers of the Olympics investigate to determine if Eiria has indeed conspired to trick and kidnap athletes from other countries. This press conference is concluded."

Stepping away from the media, Toquihu noticed that in another corner of the media center, the newly crowned Great Speaker of Huenya, Texōccoatl, was giving a press conference of his own. Texōccoatl had clearly been trying to avoid him throughout the Games, and Toquihu smiled to himself. You like to run away a lot, Texōccoatl, but you won't escape this time.

Walking unobtrusively near the Huenyans, Toquihu heard Texōccoatl's final statements to the press. "We applaud the two athletes, Metotoa and Cihitlina, for choosing freedom over tyranny. We hope that the Eirian government grants their asylum request, and that the international community also pressures the Empire to ensure that there is no retaliation against the families of the two athletes. Also, while we respect the decision of Metotoa and Cihitlina to seek asylum in Eiria, we would like to remind them, and all other Xiomerans, athletes or not, that Huenya also offers them a home and a safe refuge. There is no reason for any Xiomeran to bend knee to a tyrant or to lend aid or support to her regime. Huenyans of all backgrounds are ready and eager to help Xiomerans choose a free life."

Texōccoatl concluded his own press conference and stepped down from the podium. Speaking with his advisors, he didn't see Toquihu until he was right in front of him. "Great Speaker. Congratulations on your promotion," Toquihu said, extending his hand. Texōccoatl stopped, slightly startled, but quickly regained his composure. "Prime Minister," he said in a neutral tone. He did not accept the handshake; Toquihu simply shrugged and clasped his hands behind his back. "I am a bit surprised to hear you praising the Eirians for separating Xiomerans from their homeland, but perhaps I shouldn't be. You and your mother did separate half of our entire people and nation from it, after all. It must feel rewarding to take the throne that your mother secured for you through her unceasing efforts to do whatever it took to maintain your family's power, even if it caused a civil war."

As the cameras eagerly rolled, Toquihu continued speaking into the stone-cold silence of Texōccoatl. "I am also not entirely surprised to see you trying to convince Xiomeran athletes to come over to the Huenyan side. Given the poor performance your 'country' has achieved in these Olympics, I'd be trying to recruit Xiomerans too if I were you. But perhaps instead, it's just time to admit what the results of these Games are already showing - that Huenya is a joke and a failure. Why don't you just give up?"

Texōccoatl smiled in response. It was the smile of someone who was choosing to smile rather than choke someone on the spot. He stepped slightly closer to Toquihu, as the Xiomeran security grew tense. "We don't ever intend to give up, Toquihu. And someday, you'll figure out that change is inevitable. Is Huenya weak now? Yes. Will we always be weak? Not on your life. Let's talk again at the next Olympics and see where things stand."

The Great Speaker turned to walk away, but stopped. He looked back at Toquihu. "And speaking of the future, instead of worrying about Huenya, I'd be more worried about the Empire if I were you. How long do you think it will be before other Xiomerans figure out what Metotoa and Cihitlina just realized - that they don't have to obey you? What do you think your fate, the fate of Calhualyana, and all the minions who have enabled you both will be, once the Xiomeran people realize that? Once they realize what the XCP truly is? Tough situation that I am in now aside, I much prefer my position to yours. As I said, change is inevitable.....your Empire is not. And sooner or later, everyone will know it. Just like Metotoa and Cihitlina do."

With a final look of disdain, Texōccoatl walked away from the Prime Minister.

Seeing the cameras on him, Toquihu snarled and walked off as well, shoving through the media line.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

New Riga Main Olympic Stadium
July 3rd, 9:03 PM

The lights of the Olympic Stadium radiated for blocks throughout New Riga, the crowded streets reflecting the general mood of the city. Although the official events of the Olympiad were done, the buzz of the events could be felt throughout the metropolis. Many residents had taken large betting pools on popular Eirian and International athletes, some going home defeated when their favorites didn't do as well as they'd hoped. Musicians, artists, and street performers lined almost every major block on the city, raking in hundreds of Lunens from visiting tourists wanting a taste of the city before the Games were officially over.

Most tourists were packed in the stands of the Main Stadium, listening to the speeches being given by Olympic and Local officials. The gathered athletes of (most) visiting athletes were organized around the parade loop, the flags of their nations waving high and proud. The scene was just as momentous as the opening ceremony, but much more somber, the Olympic glory slowly fading away.

As the Olympic Flag was hoisted down the pole in the center of the stadium, the Eirian anthem played through the loudspeakers, seeming more resolved and slow than usual. The emotion in the air was palpable, not quite sad, but resolute and distant. There was certain feelings of pride for nations who had done well, with medalling athletes standing out in front of each delegation, proudly representing their nations with their prowess and skill.

The Olympic Officials turned their attention to the large flaming cauldron in the middle of the Stadium, gathering near the edge of the flame. Slowly, the fire started to diminish, fading into the cold nighttime darkness. As the cauldron was extinguished, a single small torch stayed lit, detached from the large bowl. This small torch would carry on the Olympic Flame to the next Olympiad, that same flame traveling the world over years at a time.

As the athletes were lead out of the grand stadium, they all had different feelings. Some, like the Eirian athletes, were filled with pride and excitement, the Olympiad having provided new opportunities at recognition for their accomplishments. Others, like the Aurians, were filled with doubt and worry, the future of their nation currently uncertain. But no matter where each athlete came from, they all left with memories that would stick with them for the rest of their lives.