https://idugov.com/forum/ Mon, 01 Jun 2026 01:17:40 +0000 MyBB https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13392 Wed, 27 May 2026 20:01:41 -0500 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13392 Ketsalli restaurant, Chuaztlapoc
Private dining room
May 15th, 2026

"There's nothing else for it. We have to convince him to run," Ilhuicacihuatl said. She sighed irritably as she spooned sugar into her coffee. "I know that's not what either of you are wanting to hear, but you didn't hire either of us to mislead you."

Sitting next to Ilhuicacihuatl, Tochnehnemi issued his own slightly exasperated sigh. Tapping his fork against his plate pensively, he looked at the two men sitting across from him. "I hate to agree with her, seeing as I also hate her," Tochnehnemi said coolly. Ignoring the tongue that Ilhuicacihuatl stuck out at him, he continued. "If you both continue to run separate campaigns, as you are now, Xiadani is going to beat you both by at least fifteen points. And that's the number from the pollster that's friendly to us. You don't want to see the other numbers."

One of the men at the other end of the table adjusted his already perfectly-tied tie, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. It's really come to this." Popol, the presidential candidate for the Huenyan Conservative Party, took a large sip of wine from his wine glass. The other man next to him frowned at that. Acxopotl, presidential candidate of the Party of Huitzilopochtli, took a rather ostentatious sip from his glass of water in response. Popol rolled his eyes at the gesture. Seeing this, his campaign manager Tochnehnemi intervened to prevent yet another in a well-worn series of arguments between the two. "If we want to win, and for our parties to have any chance of boosting their own numbers in the Legislature to keep the Unificationists from steamrolling us, this is the only way. It sucks, but it is reality."

The other man across from them looked angry, unlike the resigned expression Popol had on his face. "Ilhuicacihuatl, do you agree? Do I really have no chance at all?" Acxopotl's expression, despite being angry like it often was, carried a faint hint of pleading as well. Ilhuicacihuatl shook her head bluntly. "Even if Popol dropped out alone, which he won't, the best you're likely to do against Xiadani is a fifteen to twenty point loss. It could even be worse. I also hate it, but if we want our parties to be anything more than a speed bump to the Unificationists, this is our only shot." Acxopotl was clearly stunned by her bluntness, but after a moment, nodded. "Then let us enact your brilliant plan. If you can make it work."

Ilhuicacihuatl and Tochnehnemi looked at each other briefly, realizing that they had just gotten their way. But sitting across from two of the most powerful men in Huenyan politics, something about being careful what you wished for couldn't help but run through their heads.

---

Press conference, outside the Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
May 16th, 2026

"This is not a decision we make lightly," Popol said. Standing at a podium with the Huenyan flag draped on it, the Conservative candidate cut an elegant figure. On looks alone, he was exactly what a casting director would pick for someone playing president in a movie. Right down to the distinguished-looking gray at his temples and perfectly cut suit. The irony that such a perfect-looking candidate was basically handing his role to another escaped no one, including Popol. But he continued.

"Huenya's future is more important than any two men, or two parties. President Xiadani and the Unification Party cannot simply be given a blank check to run the country with no real opposition, or checks on their power. For a democracy to work, there must be a meaningful opposition. So today, the Conservative Party and the Party of Huitzilopochtli are joining forces. And we are making a personal appeal to the one leader in Huenya who has a chance at preventing us from becoming a defacto one-party state."

Popol gestured to Acxopotl, who was standing next to him. Acxopotl stood in front of the microphone, lights glaring on his clean-shaven head. "We are bringing two great parties together, in order to draft one great man. Director Cuetlancaona of the FIS, we know you're watching this press conference. So we are appealing to you, as a son of Huenya and a patriot, to take up our banner and run for president with us. Both Popol and myself are willing to step aside on your behalf, and put all of the resources of both our parties behind you. You're the one person who can help us ensure that Huenyan democracy and representative politics are protected. Milintica showed the dangers of being a one-party state. Huenya must avoid that fate. And Director Cuetlancaona, we know you can save our country from that. We'll be waiting for your call."

Acxopotl and Popol stood in front of the podium, hands raised together in what they hoped was an optimistically triumphant pose. "God, your hands are sweaty," Popol murmured disdainfully through his smile. "Shut up, you soft little drunk," Acxopotl murmured back through his own smile as they posed for the cameras.

As the two of them posed outside the Huenyan presidential residence, a curtain rustled slightly in an upper window. President Xiadani sat back down at her desk, thinking. After a moment, she picked up her phone. "We have a problem," she told the person on the other end of the line. "I need you and Yacanqui here in an hour."

Precisely an hour later, the two people that the President had summoned arrived. They were not a minute late, as Xiadani was notorious for disliking tardiness. Natcahuacu, the Chair of the Unification Party, took one seat in front of the large wooden desk. Yacanqui, Xiadani's campaign manager, took the other seat. Xiadani closed the lid to her laptop, looking steadily at them both. "I trust you both saw that press conference?"

Yacanqui nodded. "Sure did. Rather bold of them, to do it right on your front steps."

"It's a hollow gesture. They're trying to seem strong and unafraid, which doesn't really go well with their current messaging. 'Oh, big strong Director Cuetlancaona, save us from the monsters we can't actually defeat with our lousy campaigns.' Not exactly pictures of confidence," Natcahuacu said as he rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps. But we can't take them for granted. If they manage to somehow convince Cuetlancaona to take their offer, it changes everything. His poll numbers are ridiculously good for someone who isn't even running officially. He could pose a real threat to the President." Yacanqui took out her own laptop to begin taking notes. "We need to consider either warning Cuetlancaona off, or having a plan ready to weaken him if he does run."

"A plan? What kind of plan?" Xiadani's expression turned skeptical as Yacanqui continued. "Well, you could always indirectly or directly demand that he not run to remain FIS Director - privately, of course. We can also research some negative campaigning approaches. See if there's anything dirty or harmful in the Director's past that could hurt him politically. We could also 'find' such things if needed," Yacanqui continued, slowing as Xiadani's expression continued to shift. "Or, we could just redirect some of your negatives to him. We know that there are some in the electorate who blame you for the Golden Blade insurgency kicking off as badly as it did. He was FIS Director at the time, and would make a nice juicy target to bounce that blame to - "

Yacanqui suddenly halted as Xiadani raised her hand. "No. We are not going to do anything that weakens Cuetlancaona." Before either Yacanqui or Natcahuacu could object, Xiadani raised her hand again. "Cuetlancaona has done a superb job as FIS Director. We know that. More importantly, the voters know that. How can you be sure that people won't just see right through such tactics, and blame us for the smears?" Xiadani shook her head. "More to the point, even if he runs, I can take him. And after that election, I still have to work with the man. We still need him at FIS. Anything that weakens him in his role with the agency weakens Huenya. I don't want that on my conscience, when I can win this thing without it."

"So then...um...what do you want us to do?" Yacanqui said after a long pause.

"Just keep running the campaign as it is. Do not go negative, not even a little. You can hit the Conservatives and the PH for being so electorally weak that they had to pull this stunt in the first place, but that's it. Otherwise, focus on our accomplishments and our platform. That's the route we need to take," the President said firmly and confidently. "As for Cuetlancaona, I will handle that matter directly."

After another long pause, Yacanqui nodded. She stood up and left with Natcahuacu. The two of them exchanged a look as they exited the office that Xiadani recognized. It bore the same skepticism that the President had on her own face just a moment earlier. When she was alone, the President sighed. She was going to have to make another call later that day. 

---

Eztic Tower 3 residential block, Ixtenco
Five hours later

Five black SUVs pulled up at the entrance of Eztic Tower 3. FIS agents in black suits with blue ties exited two of them, forming a tight security perimeter. Two of the other SUVs disgorged another set of similarly clad FIS agents, as a single man exited the one in the middle of the convoy. FIS Director Cuetlancaona smiled and greeted the doormen as he entered the tower, followed by his security detail. The group boarded the two elevators in the lobby, using special keys to redirect them both only to the top floor. 

At the top of the tower, Cuetlancaona went inside his residence. The penthouse suite at Eztic 3 had been chosen both for its comforts, and its security. The Eztic tower block housed many important Huenyans and foreigners, and had top-notch security to include bulletproof windows and blast-resistant doors. FIS even maintained agents on top of Tower 3 with anti-aircraft missiles, in case someone decided to go after the FIS Director from the air. All of the security and duties attached to his role vanished, though, once he got inside.

"Tatsin!" A young girl came rushing to the entrance, throwing her arms around Cuetlancaona. "Well, hello, Yoyontli," he said as he wrapped his daughter up in a giant hug. "How are you doing, love?" Yoyontli proceeded to tell her father how she was doing and literally everything that had happened to her that day. A soft chuckle from the living room interrupted the girl's rapid-fire speech. "Your father just got home, let him rest a bit, child. Go wash up for dinner." Animitl, Cuetlancaona's wife, gently ushered her daughter off to wash up before giving Cuetlancaona a hug of her own. "Glad you're home," she said.

"I'm glad to be home. It's been a day. Had to deal with a residual Golden Blade cell in Aquiyahuatl, and the leftover mess from our Milintican intervention." Cuetlancaona sighed as he shrugged off his suit and began loosening his tie.

"And some people trying to draft you for president," Animitl replied with a mischievous smirk on her face. Cuetlancaona sighed again, pausing mid-tie-removal. "There was also that, yes."

"Have you....thought about that?" Animitl asked. Cuetlancaona shrugged. "It's tempting, I won't lie. I know I could win, if I ran. And I know I could do the job."

"I heard a but there," Animitl said. Cuetlancaona chuckled; she really knew him too well. "There are several buts. FIS is still doing extremely important work, and still learning how to do it. We've only been an intelligence agency for a couple of years now, going up against countries who have been playing the spy game forever. Especially the Empire. I don't know how I feel about leaving that - it's not a complete task. There's also the other questions that go along with this. Would I do a better job than Xiadani, or at least as good as she's done? Has she done anything, or not done anything, that is worth her losing her job? Also...men like Popol and Acxopotl are hardly the generous or self-sacrificing sort. What if they expect to be the power behind the throne? What if they expect to be able to control me, or puppeteer me, once I get elected? That would be a problem."

"You could appoint someone at FIS to make sure the job continues to get done right, and be in an even stronger position to protect Huenya as president," Animitl said calmly. "And you would make a damn fine president, if I do say so myself. And I do," Animitl smirked, earning another laugh from Cuetlancaona. "But you're right...Xiadani hasn't done anything that disqualifies her. I still think her heavy-handed response to the insurgents triggered the last big uprising. But if the rumors are true, it's also her threat to stuff a nuke down Calhualyana's throat that ended the insurgency. So there's that." Animitl paused. "I know you probably won't answer me...but are those rumors true?"

Cuetlancaona simply smiled and tapped his lips silently. Animitl smirked back. "Of course. So what else is making your decision hard?"

"The biggest reason of all. There are already people out there who want me dead, being FIS Director." Cuetlancaona looked around his apartment, eyeing the bulletproof windows and contemplating the security gauntlet around his residence. "If I become president, that only gets worse. You and Yoyontli would be even more at risk."

"There's no reward without risk. I knew that when I married you," Animitl replied. "You will protect us, as always. And it's not like I'm unfamiliar with how to protect myself or Yoyontli." Cuetlancaona nodded in agreement; Animitl had fought on the side of Huenya during the Civil War, earning a medal for her actions at Chuaztlapoc in defense of Yauhmi. She wasn't, by definition, a typical housewife. Cuetlancaona placed his head on Animitl's shoulder as she gave him a hug. "Whatever you decide to do, president or not, we're going to be right here with you."

A soft ping interrupted their hug. "Director? There is a call coming in from the Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli. It's the President," a voice echoed over the intercom. Cuetlancaona stepped back slightly, looking at Animitl. "Don't let her grill you," she said with a grin. Cuetlancaona smiled as he went into his private office.

Once seated at his desk, Cuetlancaona steeled himself before answering the call. "Madam President," he said in a neutral voice. Xiadani smiled slightly on the screen. "Director. I hope I am not interrupting you. I know you're at home with your family, so I'll keep this brief."

Here it comes, Cuetlancaona thought. He had done enough interrogations to feel like he knew when one was beginning. But to his surprise, Xiadani's usual smile turned into something warmer. "We've worked well together over the past few years. We've worked to keep Huenya safe, helped it become more secure, and thwarted a bunch of Imperial schemes along the way. I think thwarting those schemes was my favorite part."

Cuetlancaona smiled despite himself, as Xiadani continued. "If you decide to run for president, I will run a hard campaign against you. But I will keep it decent. No lies, no smears, no personal attacks, no diving into the mud. All I ask is that you do the same." The FIS Director nodded as Xiadani continued. "I want to make sure that no matter what, whether as president or continuing as FIS Director, that you can do your job without being tarnished. Just extend me the same courtesy, and we'll be good."

"I agree. I have no wish to tarnish you either. Just so you know, I haven't decided if I am even running yet."

"I figured as much." Xiadani smiled again. "I honestly do not intend to try to influence your decision or place undue pressure on you. There are some that would like me to, but that's not how I want to be in power. Whatever you decide, I want us to be fair to each other so that we can both continue to serve Huenya no matter how this all plays out. As for your decision...sleep on it. Don't decide now. I'll hear about it like everyone else, on the news. Have a good night, Director."

Cuetlancaona nodded, a bemused smile on his face, as Xiadani ended the call. That went better than I expected. His always-analytical mind processed the call. Did Xiadani really mean it, or was she playing nice to throw him off? Cuetlancaona was, by sheer necessity, a very good judge of character. But this was a challenge to read even for him. The FIS Director continued to think as he went out into his apartment to have dinner with his family.]]> Ketsalli restaurant, Chuaztlapoc
Private dining room
May 15th, 2026

"There's nothing else for it. We have to convince him to run," Ilhuicacihuatl said. She sighed irritably as she spooned sugar into her coffee. "I know that's not what either of you are wanting to hear, but you didn't hire either of us to mislead you."

Sitting next to Ilhuicacihuatl, Tochnehnemi issued his own slightly exasperated sigh. Tapping his fork against his plate pensively, he looked at the two men sitting across from him. "I hate to agree with her, seeing as I also hate her," Tochnehnemi said coolly. Ignoring the tongue that Ilhuicacihuatl stuck out at him, he continued. "If you both continue to run separate campaigns, as you are now, Xiadani is going to beat you both by at least fifteen points. And that's the number from the pollster that's friendly to us. You don't want to see the other numbers."

One of the men at the other end of the table adjusted his already perfectly-tied tie, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. It's really come to this." Popol, the presidential candidate for the Huenyan Conservative Party, took a large sip of wine from his wine glass. The other man next to him frowned at that. Acxopotl, presidential candidate of the Party of Huitzilopochtli, took a rather ostentatious sip from his glass of water in response. Popol rolled his eyes at the gesture. Seeing this, his campaign manager Tochnehnemi intervened to prevent yet another in a well-worn series of arguments between the two. "If we want to win, and for our parties to have any chance of boosting their own numbers in the Legislature to keep the Unificationists from steamrolling us, this is the only way. It sucks, but it is reality."

The other man across from them looked angry, unlike the resigned expression Popol had on his face. "Ilhuicacihuatl, do you agree? Do I really have no chance at all?" Acxopotl's expression, despite being angry like it often was, carried a faint hint of pleading as well. Ilhuicacihuatl shook her head bluntly. "Even if Popol dropped out alone, which he won't, the best you're likely to do against Xiadani is a fifteen to twenty point loss. It could even be worse. I also hate it, but if we want our parties to be anything more than a speed bump to the Unificationists, this is our only shot." Acxopotl was clearly stunned by her bluntness, but after a moment, nodded. "Then let us enact your brilliant plan. If you can make it work."

Ilhuicacihuatl and Tochnehnemi looked at each other briefly, realizing that they had just gotten their way. But sitting across from two of the most powerful men in Huenyan politics, something about being careful what you wished for couldn't help but run through their heads.

---

Press conference, outside the Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
May 16th, 2026

"This is not a decision we make lightly," Popol said. Standing at a podium with the Huenyan flag draped on it, the Conservative candidate cut an elegant figure. On looks alone, he was exactly what a casting director would pick for someone playing president in a movie. Right down to the distinguished-looking gray at his temples and perfectly cut suit. The irony that such a perfect-looking candidate was basically handing his role to another escaped no one, including Popol. But he continued.

"Huenya's future is more important than any two men, or two parties. President Xiadani and the Unification Party cannot simply be given a blank check to run the country with no real opposition, or checks on their power. For a democracy to work, there must be a meaningful opposition. So today, the Conservative Party and the Party of Huitzilopochtli are joining forces. And we are making a personal appeal to the one leader in Huenya who has a chance at preventing us from becoming a defacto one-party state."

Popol gestured to Acxopotl, who was standing next to him. Acxopotl stood in front of the microphone, lights glaring on his clean-shaven head. "We are bringing two great parties together, in order to draft one great man. Director Cuetlancaona of the FIS, we know you're watching this press conference. So we are appealing to you, as a son of Huenya and a patriot, to take up our banner and run for president with us. Both Popol and myself are willing to step aside on your behalf, and put all of the resources of both our parties behind you. You're the one person who can help us ensure that Huenyan democracy and representative politics are protected. Milintica showed the dangers of being a one-party state. Huenya must avoid that fate. And Director Cuetlancaona, we know you can save our country from that. We'll be waiting for your call."

Acxopotl and Popol stood in front of the podium, hands raised together in what they hoped was an optimistically triumphant pose. "God, your hands are sweaty," Popol murmured disdainfully through his smile. "Shut up, you soft little drunk," Acxopotl murmured back through his own smile as they posed for the cameras.

As the two of them posed outside the Huenyan presidential residence, a curtain rustled slightly in an upper window. President Xiadani sat back down at her desk, thinking. After a moment, she picked up her phone. "We have a problem," she told the person on the other end of the line. "I need you and Yacanqui here in an hour."

Precisely an hour later, the two people that the President had summoned arrived. They were not a minute late, as Xiadani was notorious for disliking tardiness. Natcahuacu, the Chair of the Unification Party, took one seat in front of the large wooden desk. Yacanqui, Xiadani's campaign manager, took the other seat. Xiadani closed the lid to her laptop, looking steadily at them both. "I trust you both saw that press conference?"

Yacanqui nodded. "Sure did. Rather bold of them, to do it right on your front steps."

"It's a hollow gesture. They're trying to seem strong and unafraid, which doesn't really go well with their current messaging. 'Oh, big strong Director Cuetlancaona, save us from the monsters we can't actually defeat with our lousy campaigns.' Not exactly pictures of confidence," Natcahuacu said as he rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps. But we can't take them for granted. If they manage to somehow convince Cuetlancaona to take their offer, it changes everything. His poll numbers are ridiculously good for someone who isn't even running officially. He could pose a real threat to the President." Yacanqui took out her own laptop to begin taking notes. "We need to consider either warning Cuetlancaona off, or having a plan ready to weaken him if he does run."

"A plan? What kind of plan?" Xiadani's expression turned skeptical as Yacanqui continued. "Well, you could always indirectly or directly demand that he not run to remain FIS Director - privately, of course. We can also research some negative campaigning approaches. See if there's anything dirty or harmful in the Director's past that could hurt him politically. We could also 'find' such things if needed," Yacanqui continued, slowing as Xiadani's expression continued to shift. "Or, we could just redirect some of your negatives to him. We know that there are some in the electorate who blame you for the Golden Blade insurgency kicking off as badly as it did. He was FIS Director at the time, and would make a nice juicy target to bounce that blame to - "

Yacanqui suddenly halted as Xiadani raised her hand. "No. We are not going to do anything that weakens Cuetlancaona." Before either Yacanqui or Natcahuacu could object, Xiadani raised her hand again. "Cuetlancaona has done a superb job as FIS Director. We know that. More importantly, the voters know that. How can you be sure that people won't just see right through such tactics, and blame us for the smears?" Xiadani shook her head. "More to the point, even if he runs, I can take him. And after that election, I still have to work with the man. We still need him at FIS. Anything that weakens him in his role with the agency weakens Huenya. I don't want that on my conscience, when I can win this thing without it."

"So then...um...what do you want us to do?" Yacanqui said after a long pause.

"Just keep running the campaign as it is. Do not go negative, not even a little. You can hit the Conservatives and the PH for being so electorally weak that they had to pull this stunt in the first place, but that's it. Otherwise, focus on our accomplishments and our platform. That's the route we need to take," the President said firmly and confidently. "As for Cuetlancaona, I will handle that matter directly."

After another long pause, Yacanqui nodded. She stood up and left with Natcahuacu. The two of them exchanged a look as they exited the office that Xiadani recognized. It bore the same skepticism that the President had on her own face just a moment earlier. When she was alone, the President sighed. She was going to have to make another call later that day. 

---

Eztic Tower 3 residential block, Ixtenco
Five hours later

Five black SUVs pulled up at the entrance of Eztic Tower 3. FIS agents in black suits with blue ties exited two of them, forming a tight security perimeter. Two of the other SUVs disgorged another set of similarly clad FIS agents, as a single man exited the one in the middle of the convoy. FIS Director Cuetlancaona smiled and greeted the doormen as he entered the tower, followed by his security detail. The group boarded the two elevators in the lobby, using special keys to redirect them both only to the top floor. 

At the top of the tower, Cuetlancaona went inside his residence. The penthouse suite at Eztic 3 had been chosen both for its comforts, and its security. The Eztic tower block housed many important Huenyans and foreigners, and had top-notch security to include bulletproof windows and blast-resistant doors. FIS even maintained agents on top of Tower 3 with anti-aircraft missiles, in case someone decided to go after the FIS Director from the air. All of the security and duties attached to his role vanished, though, once he got inside.

"Tatsin!" A young girl came rushing to the entrance, throwing her arms around Cuetlancaona. "Well, hello, Yoyontli," he said as he wrapped his daughter up in a giant hug. "How are you doing, love?" Yoyontli proceeded to tell her father how she was doing and literally everything that had happened to her that day. A soft chuckle from the living room interrupted the girl's rapid-fire speech. "Your father just got home, let him rest a bit, child. Go wash up for dinner." Animitl, Cuetlancaona's wife, gently ushered her daughter off to wash up before giving Cuetlancaona a hug of her own. "Glad you're home," she said.

"I'm glad to be home. It's been a day. Had to deal with a residual Golden Blade cell in Aquiyahuatl, and the leftover mess from our Milintican intervention." Cuetlancaona sighed as he shrugged off his suit and began loosening his tie.

"And some people trying to draft you for president," Animitl replied with a mischievous smirk on her face. Cuetlancaona sighed again, pausing mid-tie-removal. "There was also that, yes."

"Have you....thought about that?" Animitl asked. Cuetlancaona shrugged. "It's tempting, I won't lie. I know I could win, if I ran. And I know I could do the job."

"I heard a but there," Animitl said. Cuetlancaona chuckled; she really knew him too well. "There are several buts. FIS is still doing extremely important work, and still learning how to do it. We've only been an intelligence agency for a couple of years now, going up against countries who have been playing the spy game forever. Especially the Empire. I don't know how I feel about leaving that - it's not a complete task. There's also the other questions that go along with this. Would I do a better job than Xiadani, or at least as good as she's done? Has she done anything, or not done anything, that is worth her losing her job? Also...men like Popol and Acxopotl are hardly the generous or self-sacrificing sort. What if they expect to be the power behind the throne? What if they expect to be able to control me, or puppeteer me, once I get elected? That would be a problem."

"You could appoint someone at FIS to make sure the job continues to get done right, and be in an even stronger position to protect Huenya as president," Animitl said calmly. "And you would make a damn fine president, if I do say so myself. And I do," Animitl smirked, earning another laugh from Cuetlancaona. "But you're right...Xiadani hasn't done anything that disqualifies her. I still think her heavy-handed response to the insurgents triggered the last big uprising. But if the rumors are true, it's also her threat to stuff a nuke down Calhualyana's throat that ended the insurgency. So there's that." Animitl paused. "I know you probably won't answer me...but are those rumors true?"

Cuetlancaona simply smiled and tapped his lips silently. Animitl smirked back. "Of course. So what else is making your decision hard?"

"The biggest reason of all. There are already people out there who want me dead, being FIS Director." Cuetlancaona looked around his apartment, eyeing the bulletproof windows and contemplating the security gauntlet around his residence. "If I become president, that only gets worse. You and Yoyontli would be even more at risk."

"There's no reward without risk. I knew that when I married you," Animitl replied. "You will protect us, as always. And it's not like I'm unfamiliar with how to protect myself or Yoyontli." Cuetlancaona nodded in agreement; Animitl had fought on the side of Huenya during the Civil War, earning a medal for her actions at Chuaztlapoc in defense of Yauhmi. She wasn't, by definition, a typical housewife. Cuetlancaona placed his head on Animitl's shoulder as she gave him a hug. "Whatever you decide to do, president or not, we're going to be right here with you."

A soft ping interrupted their hug. "Director? There is a call coming in from the Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli. It's the President," a voice echoed over the intercom. Cuetlancaona stepped back slightly, looking at Animitl. "Don't let her grill you," she said with a grin. Cuetlancaona smiled as he went into his private office.

Once seated at his desk, Cuetlancaona steeled himself before answering the call. "Madam President," he said in a neutral voice. Xiadani smiled slightly on the screen. "Director. I hope I am not interrupting you. I know you're at home with your family, so I'll keep this brief."

Here it comes, Cuetlancaona thought. He had done enough interrogations to feel like he knew when one was beginning. But to his surprise, Xiadani's usual smile turned into something warmer. "We've worked well together over the past few years. We've worked to keep Huenya safe, helped it become more secure, and thwarted a bunch of Imperial schemes along the way. I think thwarting those schemes was my favorite part."

Cuetlancaona smiled despite himself, as Xiadani continued. "If you decide to run for president, I will run a hard campaign against you. But I will keep it decent. No lies, no smears, no personal attacks, no diving into the mud. All I ask is that you do the same." The FIS Director nodded as Xiadani continued. "I want to make sure that no matter what, whether as president or continuing as FIS Director, that you can do your job without being tarnished. Just extend me the same courtesy, and we'll be good."

"I agree. I have no wish to tarnish you either. Just so you know, I haven't decided if I am even running yet."

"I figured as much." Xiadani smiled again. "I honestly do not intend to try to influence your decision or place undue pressure on you. There are some that would like me to, but that's not how I want to be in power. Whatever you decide, I want us to be fair to each other so that we can both continue to serve Huenya no matter how this all plays out. As for your decision...sleep on it. Don't decide now. I'll hear about it like everyone else, on the news. Have a good night, Director."

Cuetlancaona nodded, a bemused smile on his face, as Xiadani ended the call. That went better than I expected. His always-analytical mind processed the call. Did Xiadani really mean it, or was she playing nice to throw him off? Cuetlancaona was, by sheer necessity, a very good judge of character. But this was a challenge to read even for him. The FIS Director continued to think as he went out into his apartment to have dinner with his family.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13390 Tue, 07 Apr 2026 15:23:02 -0500 Lauchenoiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13390  
“Think about it this way,” Citlalnite said as he wiped down the counter and nudged a grey tabby to the floor, “you got out of Lauchenoiria, which was your original goal, no?”
 
“You’re just too scared to stand up to the government cause you think they’re Xiomeran puppets,” Chaher grumbled.
 
Citlalnite looked around sharply, as if they could be overheard by anything other than the twenty-seven cats of the Curious Cat Café, the home base for the Salad Land Cat Crew, and their current other job.
 
“Personally, I LOVE it here!” José enthused, scooping out a litter tray with an unnatural amount of joy. A calico batted at his fake cat tail as he tied the handle of the bin bag, eyeing himself in a nearby mirror to check that the fake whiskers he’d drawn on with eyeliner were still in place.
 
“Why are you still wearing that ridiculous costume? They did not give us a new uniform after they disbanded the lizard service,” Chaher grumbled.
 
“Because it’s FUN!” José laughed, ticking the calico under the chin.
 
“I hate you,” Yousef said, stomping over to the door to let the next round of customers in.
 
The Curious Cat Café had been set up around a month into their new roles as cat wranglers on the feline-infested island. While their primary job was TNR and rehoming, there simply weren’t enough homes to go around. It had been José’s idea to set up their own cat café for some of the homeless kitties, and Mayor Tlotli had approved the idea with great gusto. Tlotli seemed to approve every idea that meant Citlalnite had to stay near.
 
The cat café market on Salad Land was very saturated, to the point where pretty much every café was a cat café whether it intended to be or not. At first, with such a competitive market, they’d had very few customers. That is, until people started to realise that they were legally obligated to solve any cat-related problems. Then the queries started.
 
Today, there were a few regulars – Mickey Knife, the insane chef; a couple elderly men; and the owner of the Parrot House who gave a different name each time she was asked. There was also an anxious-looking middle aged couple, which Chaher immediately spotted, his heart sinking just a little more.
 
 “Excuse me,” the man said hesitantly. “I hear you can solve… problems.”
 
“Oh yes!” José interrupted, two pairs of cat ears perched on top of his head. “We’re great at solving problems – lizards and cats! Not boats though; we don’t do boats any longer.”
 
The couple looked at each other, clearly regretting their decision somewhat.
 
“Well there are no boats… as far as I know…” the man began.
 
“What is it?” Yousef asked impatiently.
 
“Well, you see, it’s Boots. He’s doubling,” the woman said.
 
“He’s… what?” Citlalnite asked. “I take it Boots is a cat?”
 
“Oh yes, he’s a wonderful cat!” she gushed. “So elegant; a tuxedo; always comes when he’s called and never eats things he shouldn’t! I couldn’t wish for a better cat!”
 
“Right, so what’s the problem?” Yousef snapped.
 
“He’s doubling!”
 
“I don’t know what that means,” Citlalnite apologised.
 
“Every morning when we come downstairs, there’s twice as many Boots!”
 
“I’m gonna guess you don’t mean footwear,” Yousef sighed, finally picking up his notepad.
 
“No, she means cats,” the husband said. “Identical cats. Four days ago, we came downstairs to find a second cat, with identical markings to Boots. We figured he’d just made a similarly-coated friend, but the next day there were four of them. And then eight. And then sixteen! And this morning…”
 
“Thirty-two identical tuxedo cats!” the woman exclaimed. “Not a difference between them!”
 
“Okay, even if they’re all littermates, that’s too many,” Citlalnite mused. “And completely identical markings are rare, especially in cats without a solid colour. Perhaps we best make a visit to your house and check this out.”
 
“Oh, please do!” the woman nodded. “We can’t afford to feed sixty-four cats tomorrow! And there’s not enough room!”
 
“Right, well, we’ll be round after close of business today. Please fill out this form with your details. Would you like a coffee while you do so?”
 
Citlalnite showed the couple to a table, taking their order and handing them a stack of complicated looking forms asking for their personal details and a description of their cat-related problem. The forms, which had been written in part by José and, naturally, approved by the Mayor, decided whether or not the problem was eligible for government funding. The forms were also, of course, designed to trick those filling them out into not being eligible for government funding. And also to confuse the filler, though that may have been unintentional on José’s part.
 
“Excuse me,” the man said at one point, while Yousef was passing, “what does ‘rank seven different superpowers in order of preference’ have to do with there being thirty-two tuxedo cats in my house?”
 
“I knew someone who wasn’t a parrot should’ve proofread those forms,” Yousef grumbled. “Just say you want to fly and don’t like invisibility; it’ll make José like you.”
 
And as evening fell, the crew shut up shop and prepared to go and solve the mystery of the doubling cat.]]>  
“Think about it this way,” Citlalnite said as he wiped down the counter and nudged a grey tabby to the floor, “you got out of Lauchenoiria, which was your original goal, no?”
 
“You’re just too scared to stand up to the government cause you think they’re Xiomeran puppets,” Chaher grumbled.
 
Citlalnite looked around sharply, as if they could be overheard by anything other than the twenty-seven cats of the Curious Cat Café, the home base for the Salad Land Cat Crew, and their current other job.
 
“Personally, I LOVE it here!” José enthused, scooping out a litter tray with an unnatural amount of joy. A calico batted at his fake cat tail as he tied the handle of the bin bag, eyeing himself in a nearby mirror to check that the fake whiskers he’d drawn on with eyeliner were still in place.
 
“Why are you still wearing that ridiculous costume? They did not give us a new uniform after they disbanded the lizard service,” Chaher grumbled.
 
“Because it’s FUN!” José laughed, ticking the calico under the chin.
 
“I hate you,” Yousef said, stomping over to the door to let the next round of customers in.
 
The Curious Cat Café had been set up around a month into their new roles as cat wranglers on the feline-infested island. While their primary job was TNR and rehoming, there simply weren’t enough homes to go around. It had been José’s idea to set up their own cat café for some of the homeless kitties, and Mayor Tlotli had approved the idea with great gusto. Tlotli seemed to approve every idea that meant Citlalnite had to stay near.
 
The cat café market on Salad Land was very saturated, to the point where pretty much every café was a cat café whether it intended to be or not. At first, with such a competitive market, they’d had very few customers. That is, until people started to realise that they were legally obligated to solve any cat-related problems. Then the queries started.
 
Today, there were a few regulars – Mickey Knife, the insane chef; a couple elderly men; and the owner of the Parrot House who gave a different name each time she was asked. There was also an anxious-looking middle aged couple, which Chaher immediately spotted, his heart sinking just a little more.
 
 “Excuse me,” the man said hesitantly. “I hear you can solve… problems.”
 
“Oh yes!” José interrupted, two pairs of cat ears perched on top of his head. “We’re great at solving problems – lizards and cats! Not boats though; we don’t do boats any longer.”
 
The couple looked at each other, clearly regretting their decision somewhat.
 
“Well there are no boats… as far as I know…” the man began.
 
“What is it?” Yousef asked impatiently.
 
“Well, you see, it’s Boots. He’s doubling,” the woman said.
 
“He’s… what?” Citlalnite asked. “I take it Boots is a cat?”
 
“Oh yes, he’s a wonderful cat!” she gushed. “So elegant; a tuxedo; always comes when he’s called and never eats things he shouldn’t! I couldn’t wish for a better cat!”
 
“Right, so what’s the problem?” Yousef snapped.
 
“He’s doubling!”
 
“I don’t know what that means,” Citlalnite apologised.
 
“Every morning when we come downstairs, there’s twice as many Boots!”
 
“I’m gonna guess you don’t mean footwear,” Yousef sighed, finally picking up his notepad.
 
“No, she means cats,” the husband said. “Identical cats. Four days ago, we came downstairs to find a second cat, with identical markings to Boots. We figured he’d just made a similarly-coated friend, but the next day there were four of them. And then eight. And then sixteen! And this morning…”
 
“Thirty-two identical tuxedo cats!” the woman exclaimed. “Not a difference between them!”
 
“Okay, even if they’re all littermates, that’s too many,” Citlalnite mused. “And completely identical markings are rare, especially in cats without a solid colour. Perhaps we best make a visit to your house and check this out.”
 
“Oh, please do!” the woman nodded. “We can’t afford to feed sixty-four cats tomorrow! And there’s not enough room!”
 
“Right, well, we’ll be round after close of business today. Please fill out this form with your details. Would you like a coffee while you do so?”
 
Citlalnite showed the couple to a table, taking their order and handing them a stack of complicated looking forms asking for their personal details and a description of their cat-related problem. The forms, which had been written in part by José and, naturally, approved by the Mayor, decided whether or not the problem was eligible for government funding. The forms were also, of course, designed to trick those filling them out into not being eligible for government funding. And also to confuse the filler, though that may have been unintentional on José’s part.
 
“Excuse me,” the man said at one point, while Yousef was passing, “what does ‘rank seven different superpowers in order of preference’ have to do with there being thirty-two tuxedo cats in my house?”
 
“I knew someone who wasn’t a parrot should’ve proofread those forms,” Yousef grumbled. “Just say you want to fly and don’t like invisibility; it’ll make José like you.”
 
And as evening fell, the crew shut up shop and prepared to go and solve the mystery of the doubling cat.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13367 Thu, 22 Jan 2026 18:47:44 -0600 Laeral]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13367 "The Best Fried Chicken in Lao Sansong"

Tara Chatelain peered down at the quiet stretch of the roadway below. The night was frigid and still, with snowdrifts knee-deep on the rocky ground. This side of the border, only a small handful of kilometers from Laeralian territory, looked no different from the Xueyan hinterlands where she had grown up. Even though their mission tonight was strictly secret, a black ops mission that had been foisted on Tara and her squadmates through Intelligence, the cold and the foreboding pines of the surroundings didn’t bother her. If it hadn’t been for the fence they’d had to cut through at the Sansongian border, it would’ve felt just like one of the many training missions in the Xueyan territory she’d undergone to make Special Forces. Deliver death from afar, and slip back through the fence into the Laeralian side of the border.

Her walkie-talkie clicked.

“Signal Gold, Signal Gold.” That was Cesar, the spotter, confirming the target en route and with the expected escort. Tara’s grip tightened on her rifle, and she flexed her fingers in their nimble shooter’s gloves. A moment later, a road along the empty roadway heralded the arrival of the target. Just as their contact, a disgruntled retainer in the powerful Arkunda clan, had warned them.

“Target confirmed. Signal Green.” That was for Tara. She flicked the switch on the detonation device to power it on. A few heartbeats later: a BOOM from the roadway, as a red-and-orange cloud blossomed to life in the air. The speeding limousine which had been racing down the roadway, the dual-feather crest of the Arkunda clan emblazoned on its side, went tumbling onto its side. One of the motorcycle outriders from behind the car spun off the road and into a tree. There was a moment of silence, and then the gunfire began from the Laeralites’ ambush.

Staccato bursts of gunfire, from cruder assault rifles than those the Laeralites customarily used, raked the overturned car. There was no gunfire in response, and at a signal from the squad’s leader, the Laeralian squad ceased fire. Silence reigned over the woods, apart from the hiss and pop of the small fire guttering on the roadway.

“Dancer Three here, I’m going in,” Tara said over the comm. Grasping her rifle in both hands, she crept towards the roadway, approaching it stealthily. In the ditch by the edge of the road, she took out an empty clip of ammunition, engraved with the quasi-religious Arikata verses common to a local militant clan, and tossed it to the ground with a gloved hand.

“No sign of life here,” she said over the comm. “Report target downed.” Arkunda Hachiro, a lesser member of the region’s dominant Arkunda clan, was the target of the night’s ambush. A shady character, with interests in cross-border gunrunning and narcotics, he was nevertheless too small of a fish to normally merit a special forces hit—even in the frontier regions of Lao Sansong, where Laeralian commandos routinely operated. No, the goal tonight was to stir up the hornet’s nest of Sansongian politics, keeping the local clans and warlords focused on each other rather than venturing across the border into Laeral.

There was a small pop from the road, and Tara froze, scanning the roadway for danger. There was nothing, except for a few trashed fast-food wrappers rustling in the breeze. Then, Tara saw it. Someone from inside the car, desperately wounded, had crawled out, and in his hands he clutched a brace of grenades. Smiling a coarse, bitter smile in Tara’s direction, he chuckled and pulled the pin.

____________________________________________________________

Tara woke up in the darkness. She was cold, uncomfortably clammy, with a pounding head, and she was wearing dark clothing. Where was she? Some kind of ditch, it appeared, next to the road.

The walkie-talkie clipped to her shoulder squawked. “Dancer Three, fall back to reserve extraction point. Hostiles are inbound. Dancer Three, fall back to reserve extraction point.” She didn’t know who was talking to her, but it sounded important. Her head ached in protest at the noise.

There was a burst of gunfire in the distance—not far away, and getting closer. Reserve extraction point. Where was that? It would have been covered in the pre-mission briefing, but Tara couldn’t remember anything about it. She couldn’t remember even going to whichever place—it looked like Lao Sansong—where she was now.

There were a handful of pieces of paper in the ditch and on the road around her. Tara picked one up.

Grand Opening: Huenya Fried Chicken!

Join us for the grand opening of Lao Sansong’s first-ever Huenya Fried Chicken. 

Enjoy special grand-opening only deals on finger-lickin’ tasty chicken for the whole family!

Below, there was a date—tomorrow’s—and an address, in the nearby city of Funashbiru. Something clicked in Tara’s head. Of course. She was in Lao Sansong, on a covert mission gone bad, and that address must be the extraction point. Gathering up her things, she scurried off into the woods, away from the gunfire. Recuperate, make it to the Huenya Fried Chicken, and she’d find her way home.

[To be continued...]]]> "The Best Fried Chicken in Lao Sansong"

Tara Chatelain peered down at the quiet stretch of the roadway below. The night was frigid and still, with snowdrifts knee-deep on the rocky ground. This side of the border, only a small handful of kilometers from Laeralian territory, looked no different from the Xueyan hinterlands where she had grown up. Even though their mission tonight was strictly secret, a black ops mission that had been foisted on Tara and her squadmates through Intelligence, the cold and the foreboding pines of the surroundings didn’t bother her. If it hadn’t been for the fence they’d had to cut through at the Sansongian border, it would’ve felt just like one of the many training missions in the Xueyan territory she’d undergone to make Special Forces. Deliver death from afar, and slip back through the fence into the Laeralian side of the border.

Her walkie-talkie clicked.

“Signal Gold, Signal Gold.” That was Cesar, the spotter, confirming the target en route and with the expected escort. Tara’s grip tightened on her rifle, and she flexed her fingers in their nimble shooter’s gloves. A moment later, a road along the empty roadway heralded the arrival of the target. Just as their contact, a disgruntled retainer in the powerful Arkunda clan, had warned them.

“Target confirmed. Signal Green.” That was for Tara. She flicked the switch on the detonation device to power it on. A few heartbeats later: a BOOM from the roadway, as a red-and-orange cloud blossomed to life in the air. The speeding limousine which had been racing down the roadway, the dual-feather crest of the Arkunda clan emblazoned on its side, went tumbling onto its side. One of the motorcycle outriders from behind the car spun off the road and into a tree. There was a moment of silence, and then the gunfire began from the Laeralites’ ambush.

Staccato bursts of gunfire, from cruder assault rifles than those the Laeralites customarily used, raked the overturned car. There was no gunfire in response, and at a signal from the squad’s leader, the Laeralian squad ceased fire. Silence reigned over the woods, apart from the hiss and pop of the small fire guttering on the roadway.

“Dancer Three here, I’m going in,” Tara said over the comm. Grasping her rifle in both hands, she crept towards the roadway, approaching it stealthily. In the ditch by the edge of the road, she took out an empty clip of ammunition, engraved with the quasi-religious Arikata verses common to a local militant clan, and tossed it to the ground with a gloved hand.

“No sign of life here,” she said over the comm. “Report target downed.” Arkunda Hachiro, a lesser member of the region’s dominant Arkunda clan, was the target of the night’s ambush. A shady character, with interests in cross-border gunrunning and narcotics, he was nevertheless too small of a fish to normally merit a special forces hit—even in the frontier regions of Lao Sansong, where Laeralian commandos routinely operated. No, the goal tonight was to stir up the hornet’s nest of Sansongian politics, keeping the local clans and warlords focused on each other rather than venturing across the border into Laeral.

There was a small pop from the road, and Tara froze, scanning the roadway for danger. There was nothing, except for a few trashed fast-food wrappers rustling in the breeze. Then, Tara saw it. Someone from inside the car, desperately wounded, had crawled out, and in his hands he clutched a brace of grenades. Smiling a coarse, bitter smile in Tara’s direction, he chuckled and pulled the pin.

____________________________________________________________

Tara woke up in the darkness. She was cold, uncomfortably clammy, with a pounding head, and she was wearing dark clothing. Where was she? Some kind of ditch, it appeared, next to the road.

The walkie-talkie clipped to her shoulder squawked. “Dancer Three, fall back to reserve extraction point. Hostiles are inbound. Dancer Three, fall back to reserve extraction point.” She didn’t know who was talking to her, but it sounded important. Her head ached in protest at the noise.

There was a burst of gunfire in the distance—not far away, and getting closer. Reserve extraction point. Where was that? It would have been covered in the pre-mission briefing, but Tara couldn’t remember anything about it. She couldn’t remember even going to whichever place—it looked like Lao Sansong—where she was now.

There were a handful of pieces of paper in the ditch and on the road around her. Tara picked one up.

Grand Opening: Huenya Fried Chicken!

Join us for the grand opening of Lao Sansong’s first-ever Huenya Fried Chicken. 

Enjoy special grand-opening only deals on finger-lickin’ tasty chicken for the whole family!

Below, there was a date—tomorrow’s—and an address, in the nearby city of Funashbiru. Something clicked in Tara’s head. Of course. She was in Lao Sansong, on a covert mission gone bad, and that address must be the extraction point. Gathering up her things, she scurried off into the woods, away from the gunfire. Recuperate, make it to the Huenya Fried Chicken, and she’d find her way home.

[To be continued...]]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2497 Sat, 16 Aug 2025 16:15:02 -0500 Lauchenoiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2497  
Helga Wuopio (Republic Now), Anja Aalto (Communist), Alexandra Pentti (Women Rising), Jacob Johansen (Green Ecology) and Emma Storstrand (Tomorrow Party) sat around a circular table watching each other uneasily.
 
“You’re freaking insane,” Johansen snapped at Pentti, only he didn’t say ‘freaking’.
 
“And you’re a misogynistic pig,” Pentti retorted.
 
“You’d call anyone with a single facial hair a misogynistic pig,” Johansen rolled his eyes.
 
“Comrades!” Aalto scolded. “We must figure out what to do if the crown-wearer decides to act against us.” She said the latter as if it was a slur.
 
“There is a fine tradition of beheading monarchs,” Pentti shrugged.
 
“Not in the twenty-first century,” pointed out Storstrand.
 
“There are other parts we could chop off,” Pentti said hopefully.
 
“Rocks, I cannot deal with this,” muttered Wuopio, the Prime Minister. Louder, she added “if the Royals defy the public vote, the international community will not stand for it. I do not think a single one of our direct neighbours – despite their differences with each other – would side with the Royals. To Lauchenoiria and Greater Acadia, they are an anachronism; and to Kerlile they are governed by male primogeniture, which is practically a deadly sin. The Royals know this; they are unlikely to try anything violent.”
 
“What about non-violent?” Storstrand asked. “I agree that civil war would be unlikely, but I would not rule out attempts at rigging votes.”
 
“Our ballots have always had excellent security,” Wuopio replied. “With everything being on paper, hacking is impossible. And international observers are welcome, should any wish to come.”
 
“With everything being on paper, it is virtually impossible to detect if tampering occurred,” Storstrand countered. “It is, frankly, primitive.”

“And bad for the environment,” Johansen piped up. “Though I can’t say the sourcing of computer chips has been much better. Everything seems bad for the environment,” he added glumly.
 
“I’m with the Prime Minister here,” Pentti shrugged. “It’s way more effort to rig a paper ballot than hack an electronic one.”
 
“You would know, being a Kerlian spy,” Johansen retorted. “And I bet you just said that to disagree with me!”
 
“Before you two get started again,” Aalto interrupted quickly, “I don’t think paper-vs-electronic is the big question here. If we keep our eye on known monarchists it won’t matter.”
 
“She has a point,” Storstrand added. “Alas, under present Zongongian law, such a thing would not be legal.”
 
“We’re the government, we can change that,” shrugged Pentti.
 
“You misunderstand democracy, gynarchist,” Johansen snapped. “We can’t just ‘change that’ on a whim. We govern with the consent of the people.”
 
“Stop speaking over me!” Pentti shouted, even though Johansen had not, in fact, spoken over her.
 
“Oh my rocks, how about this: we invite international observers, then if they see anything dodgy they will say something. Get some from monarchies, from republics, from communist and capitalist countries, from Kerlile and Novella Islands and any other specific requests! It’s clear we cannot figure a fool-proof situation, so why not outsource the problem?”
 
“If we get observers from a wide range of countries, it may well work. As long as people can trust they won’t have their own agendas,” Johansen mused.
 
“Or that their agendas are opposed, so that if they agree it is clearly not ideological,” Storstrand agreed.
 
“As long as you do indeed include Kerlile,” Pentti said pointedly.
 
“And somewhere sympathetic to communism,” added Aalto.
 
“Very well. Observers we shall have,” Wuopio concluded, ending the meeting.]]>  
Helga Wuopio (Republic Now), Anja Aalto (Communist), Alexandra Pentti (Women Rising), Jacob Johansen (Green Ecology) and Emma Storstrand (Tomorrow Party) sat around a circular table watching each other uneasily.
 
“You’re freaking insane,” Johansen snapped at Pentti, only he didn’t say ‘freaking’.
 
“And you’re a misogynistic pig,” Pentti retorted.
 
“You’d call anyone with a single facial hair a misogynistic pig,” Johansen rolled his eyes.
 
“Comrades!” Aalto scolded. “We must figure out what to do if the crown-wearer decides to act against us.” She said the latter as if it was a slur.
 
“There is a fine tradition of beheading monarchs,” Pentti shrugged.
 
“Not in the twenty-first century,” pointed out Storstrand.
 
“There are other parts we could chop off,” Pentti said hopefully.
 
“Rocks, I cannot deal with this,” muttered Wuopio, the Prime Minister. Louder, she added “if the Royals defy the public vote, the international community will not stand for it. I do not think a single one of our direct neighbours – despite their differences with each other – would side with the Royals. To Lauchenoiria and Greater Acadia, they are an anachronism; and to Kerlile they are governed by male primogeniture, which is practically a deadly sin. The Royals know this; they are unlikely to try anything violent.”
 
“What about non-violent?” Storstrand asked. “I agree that civil war would be unlikely, but I would not rule out attempts at rigging votes.”
 
“Our ballots have always had excellent security,” Wuopio replied. “With everything being on paper, hacking is impossible. And international observers are welcome, should any wish to come.”
 
“With everything being on paper, it is virtually impossible to detect if tampering occurred,” Storstrand countered. “It is, frankly, primitive.”

“And bad for the environment,” Johansen piped up. “Though I can’t say the sourcing of computer chips has been much better. Everything seems bad for the environment,” he added glumly.
 
“I’m with the Prime Minister here,” Pentti shrugged. “It’s way more effort to rig a paper ballot than hack an electronic one.”
 
“You would know, being a Kerlian spy,” Johansen retorted. “And I bet you just said that to disagree with me!”
 
“Before you two get started again,” Aalto interrupted quickly, “I don’t think paper-vs-electronic is the big question here. If we keep our eye on known monarchists it won’t matter.”
 
“She has a point,” Storstrand added. “Alas, under present Zongongian law, such a thing would not be legal.”
 
“We’re the government, we can change that,” shrugged Pentti.
 
“You misunderstand democracy, gynarchist,” Johansen snapped. “We can’t just ‘change that’ on a whim. We govern with the consent of the people.”
 
“Stop speaking over me!” Pentti shouted, even though Johansen had not, in fact, spoken over her.
 
“Oh my rocks, how about this: we invite international observers, then if they see anything dodgy they will say something. Get some from monarchies, from republics, from communist and capitalist countries, from Kerlile and Novella Islands and any other specific requests! It’s clear we cannot figure a fool-proof situation, so why not outsource the problem?”
 
“If we get observers from a wide range of countries, it may well work. As long as people can trust they won’t have their own agendas,” Johansen mused.
 
“Or that their agendas are opposed, so that if they agree it is clearly not ideological,” Storstrand agreed.
 
“As long as you do indeed include Kerlile,” Pentti said pointedly.
 
“And somewhere sympathetic to communism,” added Aalto.
 
“Very well. Observers we shall have,” Wuopio concluded, ending the meeting.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2496 Wed, 09 Jul 2025 14:00:13 -0500 Slokais]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2496
March 8th, 1700
Caoxi Region, Pindai

The shadows were long across the valley, a fact of the nature of the narrow mountains which acted as home for the people of Mansugia, a town built by the Arkon'ah ethnic group. A hundred generations ago, as legend tells, a man came down from the hills, saw the valley, and simply decided right then it would be his home. There were several dozen homesteads clustered together around a small temple, which also acted as a gathering space. Today, as the frosts of winter began to fade, the people of Mansugia gathered again.

“There’s the town,” Gao Xueqin said. He was appointed commissioner of Mansugia, not from the village but rather a servant of the Caoxi Region, which was itself a servant of the Pindai State. Gao had been born in Caoxi, a walled city on the coast about a full day’s horse ride away from here. Wishing to be a civil servant and a small fish in the big pond of Pindai, he had left home, only to be right back here at the orders of the Ministry of Lands and Gamekeepers. The Arkon’ah had been subjected hundreds of years ago by the blade of Pindai horsemen, yet remained fairly free. All Caoxi and by extension, Pindai asked was for a seasonal tribute of rice, and an allocation of wood. Yet this time, Pindai had a much bigger demand of the people of Mansugia.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Francisco Mallen said, in his native Spanish. Gao had partly been assigned this role due to his study of the language and achieved a mark of certification in his civil service exam. Francisco Mallen was born in 1678 to an indigenous mother and a Costenoian father in a similar-looking valley near Ciudad San Fernando. He had helped his Mescaldo family out around the farm, cleaning the livestock stables, and exchanging their excess goods at the market. Yet as a Mescaldo person, there were limited opportunities. Seen as an outsider by Costenoians, yet a traitor to his own indigenous ancestors. Francisco joined a local militia, where, eventually, after some other jobs ended up in service of the San Fernando Lumber Company, as a corporate security officer.

“Indeed, I believe the company office will look good right there,” said Madame Marina Montes, pointing from atop her carriage. Her assistant was carefully writing it down quickly. Marina Montes was the wife of Alejandro Montes, head of the SFLC’s operations in the Caoxi Region. She lived in a large colonial house in the San Gabriel district of Caoxi, which was home to the growing Costenoian community and was situated close to the docks. Marina would often sit outside her bedroom and watch with binoculars the ship coming into harbor. More and more, they were carrying goods from faraway lands. Partly as an act of charity and partly to occupy herself, Marina Montes had begun working as a teacher at a local girls' boarding school. Teaching a classroom of mostly Indigenous children whose parents worked in the docks, Marina not only taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in her eyes, “good skills”. The pleasantries she had learned as a little girl back in the green fields of Costeno, she was now teaching to a generation of girls.

Behind this initial friendly trio were two dozen or so working men of the SFLC. They were tasked with acting as security and protection for now, yet hard-working loggers in the future. The hills of Caoxi, which would one day be called North Acadia, were stocked full of timber. In a region of so many islands, and when shipping and the sea were major assets, the timber trade was massive. While the Arkon’ah used timber for their homes, they had little large-scale usage of the product. Of the two dozen, most were either Costeno and Mesitzo young men from the San Fernando Valley; however, there were a few exceptions. Moussa Diaz, who was born in San Fernando however was not born free. His mother had been born in Kolda and had been enslaved in war. After a long voyage across the ocean, she was sold off to a wealthy family in San Fernando. The Diaz family, who had given their last name, yet as an act of charity, let their mother give their son a Koldan name. Just a few years prior to the death of the family matriarch, he had freed him of his servitude. Moussa had left immediately and bounced around from job to job before settling in to work as part of the SFLC. It had allowed him to see a world beyond San Fernando, and for that, Moussa was grateful.

Another exception was Raharjoro, an imposing woodcutter from the hills of Ambonar. He had come to San Fernando in 1695 with hopes of earning money for his family. A recent convert to Christianity, he watched as the people around him became obsessed with the new Ambonar Church of God. Sri Darma had purged non-Christians from his court in 1690, and in response, his followers began to turn against the Minjian faithful and Muslims. Rahajororo believed violence was unnecessary, although he was grateful for Christianity to begin to take hold.

Gao held out his hand to greet the village chief, a man named Lom-ahn. Lom-ahn was a simple farmer by trade; he continued to work the fields despite his advanced age and position. Providing for his six children and over a dozen grandchildren in their fairly large two-story wood home situated halfway up the hillside. Within Mansugia, the higher the elevation, the greater the status. Lom-ahn had inherited the position from his uncle, who had gifted his home high upon the ridge. It was actually Lom-ahn's granddaughter, Dwaia, who had spotted the group behind the expected Gao Xueqin. From there, she alerted Lom-ahn, who had been writing poetry.
“There’s a group of people coming in, Costeno’s. Some with axe’s” she said to her grandfather.
Lom-ahn set down his quill.
“Gao was supposed to come, although I guess he isn’t just looking for our rice surplus,” Lom-ahn said as he stood up. His son, Kombari-ahn, approached.
“What father?”
“Gao has brought a little more than just tax and payment records. Tell the people, we shall meet him head-on.”
Lom-ahn walked down the steep street, which formed the spine of the village, Dwaia in tow.
“What were you writing about, grandfather?”
“The end of winter, the start of spring. It’s a time of beauty, yet also a return of hard work. The end of cold days, yet the start of the hot ones are near”
“I see, good coming in with the bad?”
“Yes, in fact, that may be a good way to describe the group you saw,” Lom-ahn said, as a group of villagers had already gathered.

Gao stood next to Francisco, who was almost a foot taller than him.
“Does he know our language?” Lom-ahn asked in the local dialect of Mandarin
“He knows some basic Pindai phrases,” Gao said.
Francisco nodded ,“Hello, good to meet you” he said in Pindai Mandarin
“Let’s get to business, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lom-ahn asked
“Nothing, much,” Gao said as he tapped on the fancy wood carriage behind him
“Señora Montes, we are here.”
Out of the carriage stepped Senora Montes and her assistant, a Ren woman named Jia. In her arms, Jia held a large scroll. Montes held out her hand to Lom-ahn, who refused and instead bowed halfway.
“Ah, I see. Not baptized, I assume.”
“Actually, some have converted in the last few years," Gao said in Spanish
“Did I ask for your comment? You are here only by the order of the Pindai Trade Office”.
“Sorry, Señora,” Gao said.

Lom-Ahn stood there waiting for the two to finish their conversation, their words like gibberish to him.
“My question, still stands” he reminded Gao
“Indeed,” Gao said, walking over to receive the large scroll from Jia.
Gao read it for a second.
“Oh…”
“Let me read it, you are no help” Marina said

“By the order of the Pindai Trade Office, in association with the Caoxi Land Bureau. The land of Mansugia shall be transferred as of January 1st, 1700 to the ownership of the San Fernando Lumber Company for the purposes of industrial extraction. This transaction shall be overseen by the Masugia Land Commissioner, and thus from here forward the SFLC has full developmental and land authority over all lands within Mansugia, with the Masugia Land Commission being dissolved. Any attempts to prevent the implementation of this order will be a defilement of authority of the Caoxi Region and the Pindai State.”

Lom-ahn still looked confused.
“Translation, Gao” Lom-ahn
“Both of you” Gao sighed
“Essentially, I no longer have a job because your land is now property of the San Fernando Lumber Company, which wishes to complete logging operations. However, they do not seek to displace you from the land.”
“Was the second part in that scroll?” Lom-ahn said his anger clear in his voice
“No,” Gao said weakly
Lom-ahn spat at the ground. “Curses, upon your people, foreign women,” he said, looking at Marina.
Francisco stepped forward, his hand growing closer to his sword. Behind him, the people of Masugia grew alarmed, some drawing their wooden spears, some had small firearms.
“Hold on,” Gao said
“He spat at me, the bastard,” Marina yelled
The crowd of villagers grew restless, and some yelled back.
“What are they saying?” Francisco asked Gao
“Nothing worth repeating”
“Things seem to be getting out of hand. Should I tell the woodcutters to come up and protect Senora Marina?”
“No, I don’t want a fight here,” Gao said
“Seems to be out of the question,” Francisco said as a villager threw a stone at the carriage. It pinged harmlessly off the edge, although it scared the horses enough that they nearly kicked Senora Marina.
“Enough, arrest the man who spat at me,” she yelled at Francisco.

He looked back toward the group of wood cutters who were just standing in the road, looking uneasy as farmers from further fields began to draw closer. Moussa and the others quickly moved up their axes, still on their back, but their small swords were at the ready. Jia turned to the men as they approached the commotion.
“Take the leader, he is wearing the red hat.”
Raharjoro turned to Moussa
“Didn’t think I was fighting today.”
“We should move forward. Just don’t engage,” Moussa said.
The woodcutters formed a line, extending their swords forward.
“It has come to this, Gao?” Lom-ahn yelled, stepping in front of the crowd.
“Not my order, not Caoxi’s, not Pindai, but from San Fernando.”
“So you are what, a triple sellout?” Lom-ahn said, approaching closer to the line of woodcutters
They then parted around, allowing Francisco to rush forward and tackle Lom-ahn.

“Grandfather!” Dwaia exclaimed. The villagers rushed forward.
“Get back,” Rahajoro yelled in Mandarin.
“Fall back,” Francisco said as he dragged the chief to his feet, his hands tied behind him. Marina and Jia returned to their carriage with Gao in tow. He then stuck his head out the top.
“Bastard,” Dwaia yelled, nailing him in the center of his forehead.

The group did return to Caoxi, and Lom-ahn was thrown in jail, his cell window with just enough of a view of the mountains for him to long for home. The Prince of Caoxi would soon rally a larger force, and in just a few months’ time, Mansugia was under the ownership of the SFLC. Gao would end up with a concussion and a permanent mark on his head. Kombari-ahn would take over from his father as chief, yet Dwaia would be remembered for her defiance. Yet soon, she would be forced to attend a local Catholic school. All those who were present would remember how a simple lack of translation and a sign of disrespect had led to such chaos.]]>
March 8th, 1700
Caoxi Region, Pindai

The shadows were long across the valley, a fact of the nature of the narrow mountains which acted as home for the people of Mansugia, a town built by the Arkon'ah ethnic group. A hundred generations ago, as legend tells, a man came down from the hills, saw the valley, and simply decided right then it would be his home. There were several dozen homesteads clustered together around a small temple, which also acted as a gathering space. Today, as the frosts of winter began to fade, the people of Mansugia gathered again.

“There’s the town,” Gao Xueqin said. He was appointed commissioner of Mansugia, not from the village but rather a servant of the Caoxi Region, which was itself a servant of the Pindai State. Gao had been born in Caoxi, a walled city on the coast about a full day’s horse ride away from here. Wishing to be a civil servant and a small fish in the big pond of Pindai, he had left home, only to be right back here at the orders of the Ministry of Lands and Gamekeepers. The Arkon’ah had been subjected hundreds of years ago by the blade of Pindai horsemen, yet remained fairly free. All Caoxi and by extension, Pindai asked was for a seasonal tribute of rice, and an allocation of wood. Yet this time, Pindai had a much bigger demand of the people of Mansugia.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Francisco Mallen said, in his native Spanish. Gao had partly been assigned this role due to his study of the language and achieved a mark of certification in his civil service exam. Francisco Mallen was born in 1678 to an indigenous mother and a Costenoian father in a similar-looking valley near Ciudad San Fernando. He had helped his Mescaldo family out around the farm, cleaning the livestock stables, and exchanging their excess goods at the market. Yet as a Mescaldo person, there were limited opportunities. Seen as an outsider by Costenoians, yet a traitor to his own indigenous ancestors. Francisco joined a local militia, where, eventually, after some other jobs ended up in service of the San Fernando Lumber Company, as a corporate security officer.

“Indeed, I believe the company office will look good right there,” said Madame Marina Montes, pointing from atop her carriage. Her assistant was carefully writing it down quickly. Marina Montes was the wife of Alejandro Montes, head of the SFLC’s operations in the Caoxi Region. She lived in a large colonial house in the San Gabriel district of Caoxi, which was home to the growing Costenoian community and was situated close to the docks. Marina would often sit outside her bedroom and watch with binoculars the ship coming into harbor. More and more, they were carrying goods from faraway lands. Partly as an act of charity and partly to occupy herself, Marina Montes had begun working as a teacher at a local girls' boarding school. Teaching a classroom of mostly Indigenous children whose parents worked in the docks, Marina not only taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, but in her eyes, “good skills”. The pleasantries she had learned as a little girl back in the green fields of Costeno, she was now teaching to a generation of girls.

Behind this initial friendly trio were two dozen or so working men of the SFLC. They were tasked with acting as security and protection for now, yet hard-working loggers in the future. The hills of Caoxi, which would one day be called North Acadia, were stocked full of timber. In a region of so many islands, and when shipping and the sea were major assets, the timber trade was massive. While the Arkon’ah used timber for their homes, they had little large-scale usage of the product. Of the two dozen, most were either Costeno and Mesitzo young men from the San Fernando Valley; however, there were a few exceptions. Moussa Diaz, who was born in San Fernando however was not born free. His mother had been born in Kolda and had been enslaved in war. After a long voyage across the ocean, she was sold off to a wealthy family in San Fernando. The Diaz family, who had given their last name, yet as an act of charity, let their mother give their son a Koldan name. Just a few years prior to the death of the family matriarch, he had freed him of his servitude. Moussa had left immediately and bounced around from job to job before settling in to work as part of the SFLC. It had allowed him to see a world beyond San Fernando, and for that, Moussa was grateful.

Another exception was Raharjoro, an imposing woodcutter from the hills of Ambonar. He had come to San Fernando in 1695 with hopes of earning money for his family. A recent convert to Christianity, he watched as the people around him became obsessed with the new Ambonar Church of God. Sri Darma had purged non-Christians from his court in 1690, and in response, his followers began to turn against the Minjian faithful and Muslims. Rahajororo believed violence was unnecessary, although he was grateful for Christianity to begin to take hold.

Gao held out his hand to greet the village chief, a man named Lom-ahn. Lom-ahn was a simple farmer by trade; he continued to work the fields despite his advanced age and position. Providing for his six children and over a dozen grandchildren in their fairly large two-story wood home situated halfway up the hillside. Within Mansugia, the higher the elevation, the greater the status. Lom-ahn had inherited the position from his uncle, who had gifted his home high upon the ridge. It was actually Lom-ahn's granddaughter, Dwaia, who had spotted the group behind the expected Gao Xueqin. From there, she alerted Lom-ahn, who had been writing poetry.
“There’s a group of people coming in, Costeno’s. Some with axe’s” she said to her grandfather.
Lom-ahn set down his quill.
“Gao was supposed to come, although I guess he isn’t just looking for our rice surplus,” Lom-ahn said as he stood up. His son, Kombari-ahn, approached.
“What father?”
“Gao has brought a little more than just tax and payment records. Tell the people, we shall meet him head-on.”
Lom-ahn walked down the steep street, which formed the spine of the village, Dwaia in tow.
“What were you writing about, grandfather?”
“The end of winter, the start of spring. It’s a time of beauty, yet also a return of hard work. The end of cold days, yet the start of the hot ones are near”
“I see, good coming in with the bad?”
“Yes, in fact, that may be a good way to describe the group you saw,” Lom-ahn said, as a group of villagers had already gathered.

Gao stood next to Francisco, who was almost a foot taller than him.
“Does he know our language?” Lom-ahn asked in the local dialect of Mandarin
“He knows some basic Pindai phrases,” Gao said.
Francisco nodded ,“Hello, good to meet you” he said in Pindai Mandarin
“Let’s get to business, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lom-ahn asked
“Nothing, much,” Gao said as he tapped on the fancy wood carriage behind him
“Señora Montes, we are here.”
Out of the carriage stepped Senora Montes and her assistant, a Ren woman named Jia. In her arms, Jia held a large scroll. Montes held out her hand to Lom-ahn, who refused and instead bowed halfway.
“Ah, I see. Not baptized, I assume.”
“Actually, some have converted in the last few years," Gao said in Spanish
“Did I ask for your comment? You are here only by the order of the Pindai Trade Office”.
“Sorry, Señora,” Gao said.

Lom-Ahn stood there waiting for the two to finish their conversation, their words like gibberish to him.
“My question, still stands” he reminded Gao
“Indeed,” Gao said, walking over to receive the large scroll from Jia.
Gao read it for a second.
“Oh…”
“Let me read it, you are no help” Marina said

“By the order of the Pindai Trade Office, in association with the Caoxi Land Bureau. The land of Mansugia shall be transferred as of January 1st, 1700 to the ownership of the San Fernando Lumber Company for the purposes of industrial extraction. This transaction shall be overseen by the Masugia Land Commissioner, and thus from here forward the SFLC has full developmental and land authority over all lands within Mansugia, with the Masugia Land Commission being dissolved. Any attempts to prevent the implementation of this order will be a defilement of authority of the Caoxi Region and the Pindai State.”

Lom-ahn still looked confused.
“Translation, Gao” Lom-ahn
“Both of you” Gao sighed
“Essentially, I no longer have a job because your land is now property of the San Fernando Lumber Company, which wishes to complete logging operations. However, they do not seek to displace you from the land.”
“Was the second part in that scroll?” Lom-ahn said his anger clear in his voice
“No,” Gao said weakly
Lom-ahn spat at the ground. “Curses, upon your people, foreign women,” he said, looking at Marina.
Francisco stepped forward, his hand growing closer to his sword. Behind him, the people of Masugia grew alarmed, some drawing their wooden spears, some had small firearms.
“Hold on,” Gao said
“He spat at me, the bastard,” Marina yelled
The crowd of villagers grew restless, and some yelled back.
“What are they saying?” Francisco asked Gao
“Nothing worth repeating”
“Things seem to be getting out of hand. Should I tell the woodcutters to come up and protect Senora Marina?”
“No, I don’t want a fight here,” Gao said
“Seems to be out of the question,” Francisco said as a villager threw a stone at the carriage. It pinged harmlessly off the edge, although it scared the horses enough that they nearly kicked Senora Marina.
“Enough, arrest the man who spat at me,” she yelled at Francisco.

He looked back toward the group of wood cutters who were just standing in the road, looking uneasy as farmers from further fields began to draw closer. Moussa and the others quickly moved up their axes, still on their back, but their small swords were at the ready. Jia turned to the men as they approached the commotion.
“Take the leader, he is wearing the red hat.”
Raharjoro turned to Moussa
“Didn’t think I was fighting today.”
“We should move forward. Just don’t engage,” Moussa said.
The woodcutters formed a line, extending their swords forward.
“It has come to this, Gao?” Lom-ahn yelled, stepping in front of the crowd.
“Not my order, not Caoxi’s, not Pindai, but from San Fernando.”
“So you are what, a triple sellout?” Lom-ahn said, approaching closer to the line of woodcutters
They then parted around, allowing Francisco to rush forward and tackle Lom-ahn.

“Grandfather!” Dwaia exclaimed. The villagers rushed forward.
“Get back,” Rahajoro yelled in Mandarin.
“Fall back,” Francisco said as he dragged the chief to his feet, his hands tied behind him. Marina and Jia returned to their carriage with Gao in tow. He then stuck his head out the top.
“Bastard,” Dwaia yelled, nailing him in the center of his forehead.

The group did return to Caoxi, and Lom-ahn was thrown in jail, his cell window with just enough of a view of the mountains for him to long for home. The Prince of Caoxi would soon rally a larger force, and in just a few months’ time, Mansugia was under the ownership of the SFLC. Gao would end up with a concussion and a permanent mark on his head. Kombari-ahn would take over from his father as chief, yet Dwaia would be remembered for her defiance. Yet soon, she would be forced to attend a local Catholic school. All those who were present would remember how a simple lack of translation and a sign of disrespect had led to such chaos.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2495 Sat, 17 May 2025 14:40:07 -0500 Democratic Republic Of Eiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2495 Yüretokh, Karakhtan

*“Hemikzeny korgranüm menan hemiküz küzüm.”

The servants of the Presidential Palace silently hustled from table to table, setting up each placesetting and piece of table decor with precision and care. The Palace’s Akmatov Ballroom was dressed from ceiling to floor in ornaments of red and green, the national colors of Karakhtan, and filled almost entirely with large tables. Palace staff quickly attended to each seat individually, placing a vertical card with the name of a parliamentarian, entrepreneur, military officer, or foreign dignitary behind each empty plate. The names, written in both Karakhtani and English, represented practically every important figure in Karakhtani society. This veritable who's-who of influential people was carefully selected to ensure that the next day’s party would be both a major cultural event and politically productive.

*“Respublikane jetekranam ja korgranüm shonsa alum.”

President Nurasil yul-Bermet Seytbedin watched from the edge of the room as the gala staff ensured that everything was up to his high standards. Seytbedin had insisted on taking time away from his duties to help coordinate this event. Some may think that this decision was out of vanity or self-obsession, but the truth is that the president was afraid. The most powerful man in the country, who was a former soldier, trial lawyer, and imprisoned dissident, was afraid of a party thrown in his honor.

In Karakhtan, anniversaries aren't always happy occasions.

*“Peket hemikzeny beram iyranüd ja kizmet kilud.”

The political history of the Karakhtani Republic was not exactly one marked by stability or long-standing reverence for its executive leaders. For the past three decades, each president had been forced out of office by scandal or unrest like clockwork during their third, sixth, or ninth year in office. The cyclical nature of these resignations even led to some of the administrations before Seytbedin attempting to banish any mention of the number three from the Palace (not that it helped them much in the end). While the superstition felt much too ludicrous to put much faith in, the President couldn't help but feel unnerved.

A quartet of servants moved towards the grand double doors with rolled-up tapestries and ladders, carefully pinning the top of each banner to the wall before letting it unfurl. The words “Second Presidential Inauguration Anniversary Gala” shimmered in the soft light of the chandeliers, the gold-embossed words written in the vertical Karakhtani script. While all of the golden decorations and flatware may have been much more expensive than the humble lifestyle that Seytbedin had been accustomed to for most of his life, these luxuries were one of the few comforts the President was able to find in his current position.

After all, why spare any expenses celebrating the beginning of a president’s third year in office?

*“Meni küzy beram fodalad menan danalik ja rehymdik.”

“You know you don't have to watch them do their jobs, Nury. Your party will be fine with or without your supervision.”

The light alto voice of Cholpon, the Karakhtani first lady, caused her husband to glance away from the ballroom setup. “I know, meni yuldyz. I just wanted a break from all of the bickering that Maksat and his staff seem to love. They'll decry each other and our own economic policies just to try to convince me to fund a project owned by one of their family members, like that has gone well in the past.” Seytbedin sighed. “This seemed to be a better use of my time then having to tell them no over and over again.”

“While that must be insufferable, don't pretend like it's clan politics that's on your mind. You've been more and more distant for the past few months, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why,” Cholpon said, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “The economy is fine, the people are placated, and the local bosses couldn't care less about what you are doing. You have nothing to worry about, my love.”

With a nod and a smile, the president showed his appreciation for his wife's reassurances. “Thank you. I don't know what I would get done without you.”

“Let us hope that you never have to work without me, because not even the Seven Chiefs could help you get anything done,” the first lady quipped. “Now, come on, you should get back to your meeting. If it goes longer than an hour, I promise to swing by and rescue you.”

Seytbedin took his wife's hand and left the ballroom, sparing a single final glance at the ongoing preparations for his presidential anniversary.

Or, as he feared, his funeral.

— 

Excerpts from the Fourteen Oaths, a list of promises that the Karakhtani President must make upon their inauguration.]]> Yüretokh, Karakhtan

*“Hemikzeny korgranüm menan hemiküz küzüm.”

The servants of the Presidential Palace silently hustled from table to table, setting up each placesetting and piece of table decor with precision and care. The Palace’s Akmatov Ballroom was dressed from ceiling to floor in ornaments of red and green, the national colors of Karakhtan, and filled almost entirely with large tables. Palace staff quickly attended to each seat individually, placing a vertical card with the name of a parliamentarian, entrepreneur, military officer, or foreign dignitary behind each empty plate. The names, written in both Karakhtani and English, represented practically every important figure in Karakhtani society. This veritable who's-who of influential people was carefully selected to ensure that the next day’s party would be both a major cultural event and politically productive.

*“Respublikane jetekranam ja korgranüm shonsa alum.”

President Nurasil yul-Bermet Seytbedin watched from the edge of the room as the gala staff ensured that everything was up to his high standards. Seytbedin had insisted on taking time away from his duties to help coordinate this event. Some may think that this decision was out of vanity or self-obsession, but the truth is that the president was afraid. The most powerful man in the country, who was a former soldier, trial lawyer, and imprisoned dissident, was afraid of a party thrown in his honor.

In Karakhtan, anniversaries aren't always happy occasions.

*“Peket hemikzeny beram iyranüd ja kizmet kilud.”

The political history of the Karakhtani Republic was not exactly one marked by stability or long-standing reverence for its executive leaders. For the past three decades, each president had been forced out of office by scandal or unrest like clockwork during their third, sixth, or ninth year in office. The cyclical nature of these resignations even led to some of the administrations before Seytbedin attempting to banish any mention of the number three from the Palace (not that it helped them much in the end). While the superstition felt much too ludicrous to put much faith in, the President couldn't help but feel unnerved.

A quartet of servants moved towards the grand double doors with rolled-up tapestries and ladders, carefully pinning the top of each banner to the wall before letting it unfurl. The words “Second Presidential Inauguration Anniversary Gala” shimmered in the soft light of the chandeliers, the gold-embossed words written in the vertical Karakhtani script. While all of the golden decorations and flatware may have been much more expensive than the humble lifestyle that Seytbedin had been accustomed to for most of his life, these luxuries were one of the few comforts the President was able to find in his current position.

After all, why spare any expenses celebrating the beginning of a president’s third year in office?

*“Meni küzy beram fodalad menan danalik ja rehymdik.”

“You know you don't have to watch them do their jobs, Nury. Your party will be fine with or without your supervision.”

The light alto voice of Cholpon, the Karakhtani first lady, caused her husband to glance away from the ballroom setup. “I know, meni yuldyz. I just wanted a break from all of the bickering that Maksat and his staff seem to love. They'll decry each other and our own economic policies just to try to convince me to fund a project owned by one of their family members, like that has gone well in the past.” Seytbedin sighed. “This seemed to be a better use of my time then having to tell them no over and over again.”

“While that must be insufferable, don't pretend like it's clan politics that's on your mind. You've been more and more distant for the past few months, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why,” Cholpon said, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “The economy is fine, the people are placated, and the local bosses couldn't care less about what you are doing. You have nothing to worry about, my love.”

With a nod and a smile, the president showed his appreciation for his wife's reassurances. “Thank you. I don't know what I would get done without you.”

“Let us hope that you never have to work without me, because not even the Seven Chiefs could help you get anything done,” the first lady quipped. “Now, come on, you should get back to your meeting. If it goes longer than an hour, I promise to swing by and rescue you.”

Seytbedin took his wife's hand and left the ballroom, sparing a single final glance at the ongoing preparations for his presidential anniversary.

Or, as he feared, his funeral.

— 

Excerpts from the Fourteen Oaths, a list of promises that the Karakhtani President must make upon their inauguration.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2493 Thu, 27 Mar 2025 13:00:36 -0500 Slokais]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2493
Hours before, she had been in school, living an existence filled with formals, grades, and tennis matches. Yet by the point of a gun, Claire DeCote, along with several other students of the Lennesway Day School, had been taken by these armed men. The popular assumption propagated among both fellow students and the official investigation conducted in 2010 by Senghor’s administration is that Claire and the others had been killed by an Islamist contingent group within the military. This assumption filled the Islamophobic narrative that propagated the post-coup Kolda. Yet in reality, these men were of a different faith, the Diawara.

Both a religious group and the name of the central figure, Diawara, combined Christian values with a belief in reincarnation and that the Koldan people would be restored by a divine figure, a brother of Jesus sent down by God to his chosen people. And that night in 2009 was the first step in the vision of Jemus Jammeh, a religious political leader and 2024 Presidential Candidate. Considering these fact’s one would assume that the KLF-U and Etiene Senghor, the paramount political forces of Kolda, would denounce the Diawara. In reality, the Diawara had already become so entrenched, Senghor, who had formed a careful, secret alliance, would soon himself be surprised.

“Where are you taking us?” Claire asked in Koldan Creole, not her native tongue but a learned one.
“To see the truth of creation,” one of the soldiers said.
Claire had been mentally prepared this was how her young life would end.
“How will we see…?” she asked
“You will see Diawara”
“Who’s Diawara?”

Ettienne Senghor walked into his office on the first day of his 4th term with a smile on his face. He had just been sworn in at a public ceremony, more of a formality at this point; however, it was an opportunity for patriotism. The public had seen columns of troops armed with the newest weapons, tanks operated by the newest pilots. In his re-inauguration, Senghor had promised the nation was awakening from a “Koldan Dream”, the theme of his last term to this term’s theme, a “Koldan Reality”. 

Now, at his desk where members of his cabinet had gathered, he was presented with a series of executive orders, each one stacked up together. Although the Parliament was now much closer as the KLF-U had to now work with both the closely aligned old-style socialist Republican Rally and their new tactics allies, the Darwla Party. Jemus Jammeh had quickly made the President aware, it was the support of his followers that gave him the narrow victory in last year’s election. Senghor shared values in terms of history and in political nationalism, yet he disagreed with them for their steep theological deviations from mainstream Christianity.

His Vice-President, Joseph Thiangou, was a member of the Darwla area and had attempted to convert him on several occasions. Less than a year after selecting him as his new Vice-President, President Senghor was already regretting the arrangement to select the Diawara faithful KLF-U member. Although publicly very few within the party proclaimed such beliefs, part of Senghor was afraid of how many truly believed. At some point, this Diawara situation would pass, and Senghor would purge them. But for now, he saw them as allies.

“This proclamation directs a new military operation in Kendough-Sabourrise to investigate the recent attacks on civilian infrastructure”. The President said to the cameras that had gathered around his desk.
“What is the reason, Comrade President?” a reporter with Liberation TV asked, a staunchly pro-KLF network
“The election day attacks were extremely concerning. This will be addressed by an upcoming piece of legislation,” the President said.
In the stack were several other less important proclamations, just scraps to feed the patriotic birds which had once again come to roost at the Presidential Palace.

Claire was not killed that night as she and everyone else expected. She was brought to a country estate which equaled the most expensive homes of her classmates at Lennesway Day. On the first day of her captivity, it was explained they had been saved by the graciousness of their savior. She wasn’t the only one captured; dozens of children of the city’s best schools had been brought here. They had been separated by gender, with the boys wearing white robes while the girls wore red ones. Over that fateful breakfast, Claire began her transformation to one of the Diawara's most faithful.
“Who is our saviour, Jesus?” another girl asked.
“No,” a man said.
He was dressed in the cleanest white robes with gold lining a smile which could rival the sun in the sky. The one and only Jemus Jammeh. Claire soon became enamored with the leader of the Diawara Faith. When the other girls doubted his holiness and his greatness in private, Claire would confess her affection and belief in the Great Savior.

As the months went by, as she became educated and her connection grew both with God and the spirit Diawara. Her people, the Brissicans, had taken Kolda from Diawara, the Mother of the Koldan People. She prayed for the eventual return of Kolda to its original owners and the restoration of the Koldan Empire of old. She also prayed, Jemus would bring into the “Great Plan” he spoke of at weekly services. Finally, just after the start of the new year of 2010, she was given an opportunity.
Jemus approached her personally after dinner.
“Claire,” he said, standing behind her chair.
“Yes, Great Savior,” she said, eagerly waiting for his response
“Come with me,” he said, his gold staff by his side.
The two exited the girls’ dining hall and into the main courtyard. the two walked together, their sandals clicking in motion. Together. In her mind, Claire pondered what would come next. Over the past few months, several girls had gone with Jemus at night and not returned. Midway across the courtyard, Jemus asked.
“Happy Birthday,” he said
“What?” Claire asked, she hadn’t been keeping a close track of time. Her days had been full of light work around the compound and classes on religion. In her past life, life had been so artificial, so pointless. Yet here, she had found a connection both to God and to the beautiful land of Kolda.
“We have been keeping track, you are now a woman,” Jemus said
“Oh,” Claire said.
“In the traditional way of Diawara, boys become men at 15 and girls become women at 16. You know this, Claire” he said.
“Indeed, I have been so focused on my tasks, I have forgotten the days and weeks,” Claire said, embarrassed.
“That is admirable. tonight your work will be rewarded,” he said, opening the door of the main building of the compound.

In the aftermath of her escape, Mbaye walked the bushlands, sticking by the river. Eating berries and catching small mice for her meals. The water, although muddy, had become her lifeblood, the shade of trees becoming a brief respite from the harsh sun. After several nights of travel, she reached a town, Mbaye expected she would receive looks for her obviously dirty and broken appearance. Yet as she approached the town, tents and temporary settlements spread out, using small rocks and trees as cover from the sun. They were Moujerrian refugees from the east of the province who had been pushed out by both violence and physical removal by the Koldan government. And now Mbaye was just another person on the road. Mbaye began to ask around, eventually she had been taken in by a family of 5, they gave her a small portion of rice and an even smaller piece of chicken patty called “echota”, thickened by vegetable matter to give it density.

Mbaye didn’t know what was next; her true family had destroyed her homeland, and she had suffered at their hands. Yet she didn’t want to give up either on Kolda, there was a rebellious spirit out there. She heard of the election results a week after her arrival in the village while collecting water from a nearby well. Although she didn’t speak Moujerrian Arabic, her Kango, which a few months ago had been fairly weak, was her only method of communication. Knowing the opposition party had at least challenged the KLF-U, preventing a direct majority was a spark. However, that choice of her involvement would end up not being made by her.]]>
Hours before, she had been in school, living an existence filled with formals, grades, and tennis matches. Yet by the point of a gun, Claire DeCote, along with several other students of the Lennesway Day School, had been taken by these armed men. The popular assumption propagated among both fellow students and the official investigation conducted in 2010 by Senghor’s administration is that Claire and the others had been killed by an Islamist contingent group within the military. This assumption filled the Islamophobic narrative that propagated the post-coup Kolda. Yet in reality, these men were of a different faith, the Diawara.

Both a religious group and the name of the central figure, Diawara, combined Christian values with a belief in reincarnation and that the Koldan people would be restored by a divine figure, a brother of Jesus sent down by God to his chosen people. And that night in 2009 was the first step in the vision of Jemus Jammeh, a religious political leader and 2024 Presidential Candidate. Considering these fact’s one would assume that the KLF-U and Etiene Senghor, the paramount political forces of Kolda, would denounce the Diawara. In reality, the Diawara had already become so entrenched, Senghor, who had formed a careful, secret alliance, would soon himself be surprised.

“Where are you taking us?” Claire asked in Koldan Creole, not her native tongue but a learned one.
“To see the truth of creation,” one of the soldiers said.
Claire had been mentally prepared this was how her young life would end.
“How will we see…?” she asked
“You will see Diawara”
“Who’s Diawara?”

Ettienne Senghor walked into his office on the first day of his 4th term with a smile on his face. He had just been sworn in at a public ceremony, more of a formality at this point; however, it was an opportunity for patriotism. The public had seen columns of troops armed with the newest weapons, tanks operated by the newest pilots. In his re-inauguration, Senghor had promised the nation was awakening from a “Koldan Dream”, the theme of his last term to this term’s theme, a “Koldan Reality”. 

Now, at his desk where members of his cabinet had gathered, he was presented with a series of executive orders, each one stacked up together. Although the Parliament was now much closer as the KLF-U had to now work with both the closely aligned old-style socialist Republican Rally and their new tactics allies, the Darwla Party. Jemus Jammeh had quickly made the President aware, it was the support of his followers that gave him the narrow victory in last year’s election. Senghor shared values in terms of history and in political nationalism, yet he disagreed with them for their steep theological deviations from mainstream Christianity.

His Vice-President, Joseph Thiangou, was a member of the Darwla area and had attempted to convert him on several occasions. Less than a year after selecting him as his new Vice-President, President Senghor was already regretting the arrangement to select the Diawara faithful KLF-U member. Although publicly very few within the party proclaimed such beliefs, part of Senghor was afraid of how many truly believed. At some point, this Diawara situation would pass, and Senghor would purge them. But for now, he saw them as allies.

“This proclamation directs a new military operation in Kendough-Sabourrise to investigate the recent attacks on civilian infrastructure”. The President said to the cameras that had gathered around his desk.
“What is the reason, Comrade President?” a reporter with Liberation TV asked, a staunchly pro-KLF network
“The election day attacks were extremely concerning. This will be addressed by an upcoming piece of legislation,” the President said.
In the stack were several other less important proclamations, just scraps to feed the patriotic birds which had once again come to roost at the Presidential Palace.

Claire was not killed that night as she and everyone else expected. She was brought to a country estate which equaled the most expensive homes of her classmates at Lennesway Day. On the first day of her captivity, it was explained they had been saved by the graciousness of their savior. She wasn’t the only one captured; dozens of children of the city’s best schools had been brought here. They had been separated by gender, with the boys wearing white robes while the girls wore red ones. Over that fateful breakfast, Claire began her transformation to one of the Diawara's most faithful.
“Who is our saviour, Jesus?” another girl asked.
“No,” a man said.
He was dressed in the cleanest white robes with gold lining a smile which could rival the sun in the sky. The one and only Jemus Jammeh. Claire soon became enamored with the leader of the Diawara Faith. When the other girls doubted his holiness and his greatness in private, Claire would confess her affection and belief in the Great Savior.

As the months went by, as she became educated and her connection grew both with God and the spirit Diawara. Her people, the Brissicans, had taken Kolda from Diawara, the Mother of the Koldan People. She prayed for the eventual return of Kolda to its original owners and the restoration of the Koldan Empire of old. She also prayed, Jemus would bring into the “Great Plan” he spoke of at weekly services. Finally, just after the start of the new year of 2010, she was given an opportunity.
Jemus approached her personally after dinner.
“Claire,” he said, standing behind her chair.
“Yes, Great Savior,” she said, eagerly waiting for his response
“Come with me,” he said, his gold staff by his side.
The two exited the girls’ dining hall and into the main courtyard. the two walked together, their sandals clicking in motion. Together. In her mind, Claire pondered what would come next. Over the past few months, several girls had gone with Jemus at night and not returned. Midway across the courtyard, Jemus asked.
“Happy Birthday,” he said
“What?” Claire asked, she hadn’t been keeping a close track of time. Her days had been full of light work around the compound and classes on religion. In her past life, life had been so artificial, so pointless. Yet here, she had found a connection both to God and to the beautiful land of Kolda.
“We have been keeping track, you are now a woman,” Jemus said
“Oh,” Claire said.
“In the traditional way of Diawara, boys become men at 15 and girls become women at 16. You know this, Claire” he said.
“Indeed, I have been so focused on my tasks, I have forgotten the days and weeks,” Claire said, embarrassed.
“That is admirable. tonight your work will be rewarded,” he said, opening the door of the main building of the compound.

In the aftermath of her escape, Mbaye walked the bushlands, sticking by the river. Eating berries and catching small mice for her meals. The water, although muddy, had become her lifeblood, the shade of trees becoming a brief respite from the harsh sun. After several nights of travel, she reached a town, Mbaye expected she would receive looks for her obviously dirty and broken appearance. Yet as she approached the town, tents and temporary settlements spread out, using small rocks and trees as cover from the sun. They were Moujerrian refugees from the east of the province who had been pushed out by both violence and physical removal by the Koldan government. And now Mbaye was just another person on the road. Mbaye began to ask around, eventually she had been taken in by a family of 5, they gave her a small portion of rice and an even smaller piece of chicken patty called “echota”, thickened by vegetable matter to give it density.

Mbaye didn’t know what was next; her true family had destroyed her homeland, and she had suffered at their hands. Yet she didn’t want to give up either on Kolda, there was a rebellious spirit out there. She heard of the election results a week after her arrival in the village while collecting water from a nearby well. Although she didn’t speak Moujerrian Arabic, her Kango, which a few months ago had been fairly weak, was her only method of communication. Knowing the opposition party had at least challenged the KLF-U, preventing a direct majority was a spark. However, that choice of her involvement would end up not being made by her.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2488 Sat, 14 Dec 2024 10:28:22 -0600 Haesan]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2488 This RP follows the events of the 2024 Milintican General Election.  The relevant posts can be found here.  If you would like to participate in this RP, DM Haesan.  More likely than not, if you think this applies to you, Haesan will DM you to participate in this RP regardless.
______________________________________________________________________________________


Let's play a little game of chess, shall we?


12/3/2024, 8:00 a.m. CHT; Huānoch, Milintica

The phone rang out through the nearly vacant Haesanite embassy.  Half-awake, the residence's sole occupant cautiously picked up the phone.

"Yeoboseyo?  Who is this?" remarked the always diligent Kim Hae-rin, even though it was only six in the morning and every cell in her body urged her back to sleep.  However, in her profession, the trade of diplomatic manipulation, there was little time to rest.

On the other end was her boss, Lee Ye-eun, Deputy Foreign Minister for Caxcanan Affairs, who was incredibly proud of Haerin, for she had accomplished what she set out to do: encourage Milintica to leave the Union of Caxcanan States.

"Haerin-ssi, I'm glad you are the same as always.  We at the Foreign Ministry just want to say thank you for your hard work in ensuring the wonderful result that was announced yesterday at the Red Wave Conference.  Your work, especially with giving that Aurian a little push, was well observed and duly noted.  You have truly helped get the ball rolling for our large, international efforts."

"Thank you, but why do I have the feeling that there's something more that you wanted to ask of me," responded the ever-tired and slightly exasperated Haerin.

"How perceptive of you!  While this task was complete, the playing field is still littered with challenges to what we hope to accomplish.  As such, while your efforts will no longer be needed in Milintica.  However, given your already established connections, we are reassigning you to Auria.  Don't worry, your family will be meeting you there, and you will receive a substantive bonus for your troubles."

Haerin rubbed her eyes, knowing the road ahead of her would be a long and treacherous one indeed.  "When do I leave?"

"A helicopter will leave from the embassy roof at noon today.  It's best not to wait too long, our sources have indicated that there are major shocks about to come in Milintica, and we'll want you out."

"Understood, I'll get packing, then."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

12/3/2024, 1:00 p.m. CHT; Hwagang, HCR, Haesan

"...and once again, we are proud to announce Suyang's bid for the 2025 IDU Summer Olympic Games!  We encourage you all to embrace the 'Spirit of Summer' with us, and make this competition the greatest Olympiad in history!"

Foreign Minister Cho snapped off the TV.  "Well, this definitely complicates matters.  We're going to be on eggshells with how we go about this now.  We don't want to make enemies out of this, if anyone doesn't show up at the so called 'most accessible' games, it'll be a horrific look."

Director of Secret Intelligence Noelle Avery responded calmly, "Stop being so dramatic Jihwan.  We haven't even won the bid yet.  And even if we do, the reverse pressure is also true, others won't want to alienate us, since they'll want to compete."

"We're going ahead, right?  We have to go ahead at this point, we've spent so much political capital building the infrastructure up to do this push," exclaimed Caxcanan Minister Jin Seung-jun.

"Of course, commencing the roll-out of the Promethean Sea Council development plan is indeed the purpose of this meeting.  Everyone here has the capabilities which will make this historic, mission-critical organization a possibility," Cho replied.

Yeeun piped up, "I'm assuming my role here is to ensure that there are no, um, roadblocks to a Suyang-based system?"

"Naturally.  And Salmah, you have the most challenging task, which is managing Laeral throughout this ordeal," added Cho.

Salmah Jahanian, the Minister for Eastern Hesperidan Affairs nodded firmly, taking solace that the early returns indicated Laeralsford wouldn't be a concern for much longer.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us.  Let's stay positive, and remember to keep each other constantly updated about developments, ok?" said a confident, but very stressed Director Avery, to bring the meeting to a close.  The five of them would be at the core of bringing their lofty ambitions to fruition.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

12/3/2014, 7:30 p.m. CHT; Dalseongjeon, Hwagang, HCR

"President Kim, we are moving forward with the Promethean Sea Council.  Our briefing materials are contained in this packet," said Minister Cho as he gingerly placed the manila folder on the glass and marble desk.

"Thank you for your help in this matter.  Hopefully we can truly usher in a new era of geopolitics," replied I-seul, turning in her white leather swivel chair.  

"Before I leave, I'm wondering one last thing: what do we seriously hope to accomplish by all of this?  We can't simply re-write the 'world order' overnight."

"Ah, Jihwan, it's simple, it's about a nation daring to dream again."

"Respectfully, what in the world do you mean by that?  It's just an international organization?"

Iseul rested her hands on her chin, pensively, and then started, "For years, we have been a beached whale, stuck in a mentality of incapability.  We too readily placated others in search of any shred of economic capability.  But you see, we once majestically roamed these seas, and when we breached, we sent out shockwaves felt across the globe.  Now, when we are a richer nation than our neighbors, we are more cosmopolitan, more financially adept, and better educated, why must we continue to work at the beck and call of others?  Why should we not try to forge our own destiny?  We can choose to escape this paralysis, in fact, it is our nation prerogative to do so.  Do you see now?"

Minister Cho, terrified by the pressure brought on by this revelation, quietly agreed, and saw himself out.  As he left, the sound from a TV in a nearby room filtered in, "...as the absentee President Kim currently has a 27% approval rating, the lowest of any sitting president not indicted by crim-" as the door clicked shut.]]> This RP follows the events of the 2024 Milintican General Election.  The relevant posts can be found here.  If you would like to participate in this RP, DM Haesan.  More likely than not, if you think this applies to you, Haesan will DM you to participate in this RP regardless.
______________________________________________________________________________________


Let's play a little game of chess, shall we?


12/3/2024, 8:00 a.m. CHT; Huānoch, Milintica

The phone rang out through the nearly vacant Haesanite embassy.  Half-awake, the residence's sole occupant cautiously picked up the phone.

"Yeoboseyo?  Who is this?" remarked the always diligent Kim Hae-rin, even though it was only six in the morning and every cell in her body urged her back to sleep.  However, in her profession, the trade of diplomatic manipulation, there was little time to rest.

On the other end was her boss, Lee Ye-eun, Deputy Foreign Minister for Caxcanan Affairs, who was incredibly proud of Haerin, for she had accomplished what she set out to do: encourage Milintica to leave the Union of Caxcanan States.

"Haerin-ssi, I'm glad you are the same as always.  We at the Foreign Ministry just want to say thank you for your hard work in ensuring the wonderful result that was announced yesterday at the Red Wave Conference.  Your work, especially with giving that Aurian a little push, was well observed and duly noted.  You have truly helped get the ball rolling for our large, international efforts."

"Thank you, but why do I have the feeling that there's something more that you wanted to ask of me," responded the ever-tired and slightly exasperated Haerin.

"How perceptive of you!  While this task was complete, the playing field is still littered with challenges to what we hope to accomplish.  As such, while your efforts will no longer be needed in Milintica.  However, given your already established connections, we are reassigning you to Auria.  Don't worry, your family will be meeting you there, and you will receive a substantive bonus for your troubles."

Haerin rubbed her eyes, knowing the road ahead of her would be a long and treacherous one indeed.  "When do I leave?"

"A helicopter will leave from the embassy roof at noon today.  It's best not to wait too long, our sources have indicated that there are major shocks about to come in Milintica, and we'll want you out."

"Understood, I'll get packing, then."

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

12/3/2024, 1:00 p.m. CHT; Hwagang, HCR, Haesan

"...and once again, we are proud to announce Suyang's bid for the 2025 IDU Summer Olympic Games!  We encourage you all to embrace the 'Spirit of Summer' with us, and make this competition the greatest Olympiad in history!"

Foreign Minister Cho snapped off the TV.  "Well, this definitely complicates matters.  We're going to be on eggshells with how we go about this now.  We don't want to make enemies out of this, if anyone doesn't show up at the so called 'most accessible' games, it'll be a horrific look."

Director of Secret Intelligence Noelle Avery responded calmly, "Stop being so dramatic Jihwan.  We haven't even won the bid yet.  And even if we do, the reverse pressure is also true, others won't want to alienate us, since they'll want to compete."

"We're going ahead, right?  We have to go ahead at this point, we've spent so much political capital building the infrastructure up to do this push," exclaimed Caxcanan Minister Jin Seung-jun.

"Of course, commencing the roll-out of the Promethean Sea Council development plan is indeed the purpose of this meeting.  Everyone here has the capabilities which will make this historic, mission-critical organization a possibility," Cho replied.

Yeeun piped up, "I'm assuming my role here is to ensure that there are no, um, roadblocks to a Suyang-based system?"

"Naturally.  And Salmah, you have the most challenging task, which is managing Laeral throughout this ordeal," added Cho.

Salmah Jahanian, the Minister for Eastern Hesperidan Affairs nodded firmly, taking solace that the early returns indicated Laeralsford wouldn't be a concern for much longer.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us.  Let's stay positive, and remember to keep each other constantly updated about developments, ok?" said a confident, but very stressed Director Avery, to bring the meeting to a close.  The five of them would be at the core of bringing their lofty ambitions to fruition.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

12/3/2014, 7:30 p.m. CHT; Dalseongjeon, Hwagang, HCR

"President Kim, we are moving forward with the Promethean Sea Council.  Our briefing materials are contained in this packet," said Minister Cho as he gingerly placed the manila folder on the glass and marble desk.

"Thank you for your help in this matter.  Hopefully we can truly usher in a new era of geopolitics," replied I-seul, turning in her white leather swivel chair.  

"Before I leave, I'm wondering one last thing: what do we seriously hope to accomplish by all of this?  We can't simply re-write the 'world order' overnight."

"Ah, Jihwan, it's simple, it's about a nation daring to dream again."

"Respectfully, what in the world do you mean by that?  It's just an international organization?"

Iseul rested her hands on her chin, pensively, and then started, "For years, we have been a beached whale, stuck in a mentality of incapability.  We too readily placated others in search of any shred of economic capability.  But you see, we once majestically roamed these seas, and when we breached, we sent out shockwaves felt across the globe.  Now, when we are a richer nation than our neighbors, we are more cosmopolitan, more financially adept, and better educated, why must we continue to work at the beck and call of others?  Why should we not try to forge our own destiny?  We can choose to escape this paralysis, in fact, it is our nation prerogative to do so.  Do you see now?"

Minister Cho, terrified by the pressure brought on by this revelation, quietly agreed, and saw himself out.  As he left, the sound from a TV in a nearby room filtered in, "...as the absentee President Kim currently has a 27% approval rating, the lowest of any sitting president not indicted by crim-" as the door clicked shut.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2486 Sun, 01 Dec 2024 22:54:55 -0600 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2486 Opening Ceremony
Ao Marire Auditorium, State University of the Capital
Huānoch, Milintica

The Ao Marire Auditorium had been chosen by the organizers of the Red Wave Conference as the site of the opening and closing ceremonies. It was the second largest auditorium in Milintica, and its towering walls were a representation of Milintican ideology in concrete and brick form. The angular, unadorned architecture promised uniformity, solidity, equality and endurance - everything that the Milintican state aspired to be. Not just for itself, but for the world, if the most idealistic, ambitious and ideologically driven among them had their way.

The Ao, as it was affectionately known by State University of the Capital students and alumni, was the ideal centerpiece for the Conference for another reason. Ao Marire, the first socialist President of Milintica, had been a driving figure in the conversion of Milintica into a socialist state from 1917 to 1923. His own "red wave", in its way, was an inspiration for Neina Arana and the others who had planned the conference.

As the assembled delegates and guests waited, the lights slowly dimmed in the auditorium. Bright red spotlights then slowly came to light, highlighting the flags of the IDU assembled on the wall behind the podium. Flags for every recognized IDU nation were there, not just the flags of the nations attending the conference. Revolution is for everyone, Neina Arana liked to say. From its very opening scene, the conference was meant to be a very clear shot across the bow of the contented capitalist nations of the IDU.

As a new set of spotlights rose onto the stage, a figure dressed in jeans and a rough button-down shirt walked to the podium. Mazayotl, the new Prime Minister of Milintica, smiled broadly as he took the microphone. "Honored delegates and guests, welcome to Milintica, and to the State University of the Capital! Our nation and our peoples welcome you in solidarity, brotherhood and sisterhood. We welcome you to this first Red Wave Conference - the first, with our collective strength behind it, of many. Change is constant, and so is the need for us to fight for the people. So this conference shall likewise be ongoing, until such time as the red wave of change sweeps our world."

As the crowd cheered, Mazayotl smiled again. "Your presence here shows your commitment to the fight for equality and for change. Milintica shares your resolve, and we will stand with you as we seek change around the world."

As Mazayotl continued with his speech, Milintica's President waited for her own turn at the podium to come, at the end of the conference. For now, she was at Haven House, managing an entirely different matter. The country's former President, Matōchmizalo, and the Milintican Peoples' Party had been barred from attending the conference. The MPP had planned to protest their ban outside the conference. Arana was not having any of that. Huaxō, the new National Police Commissioner, had already been given his marching orders. Several hours before the conference started, both Matōchmizalo and former Prime Minister Tupai Tapihana had quietly been detained. With their two top leaders suddenly out of the loop, the MPP found itself a bit disarmed as the National Police surrounded their headquarters building "for security purposes."

Tazal Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "International Solidarity"

First up was Spartacus Jones, Member of the Slokaisian Legislature, representing Revolt! "First of all, I would like to acknowledge all the comrades who have died in the struggle for Kaijanese independence, both against the violent armed groups such as the Kaijan League which try to install their brand of Fascism and the abusive government of Brooke Weasley."

"Kaijan, for those unaware, is an island of Slokais, which has been oppressed by both colonial powers for many centuries and by decades of capitalist mismanagement. Slokais is a country which claims to be diverse yet in reality is controlled by Catholic Anglo-Costanoan capitalist elites. I was educated of these injustices by my brother in arms, Mohamed Al-Marwasai in 2016. I had a mental break the prior year, the capitalist music industry had broken me after years of performing and industry deals, and I was on a retreat in the mountains in North Kaijan. During this time, I read many pieces of key leftist literature, including Al-Marwasai's 'Isle of Greed'. I would recommend it to all comrades here, a real 10 of 10 book. I actually tried to promote it as Minister of Education, but the powers that be wouldn’t have that, they wouldn't have that."

"Anyway, I invited Al-Marwasai to my retreat. We had several good vegetarian meals. And then he informed me what had been done to his people. The federal government had begun a program in 2012 which put infrastructure and business planning in the hands of private partners, these partners were simply the sons and daughters of these colonial sugar companies. He explained to me that many turned to radical Islam as a way of comradery and escape from capitalist reality. Although I respect the religion, its radical implementation has seen fascistic practices such as the arrest of those who don’t live by their social code. I believe in religious freedom, but not the ability to deny others of their freedoms for the sake of religion."

"I realized at that moment, not only did Slokais Island need socialism or the world needed socialism, but each and every people group needed socialism. Economically and socially, an independent Socialist, Kaijanese state would be self-sufficient and free of the exploitative wills of some Slokasians. Liberation can only be achieved through the mechanism of socialism. The vehicle, armed struggle or by political methods is up for those who are driving to decide. I won’t speak publicly on which method I prefer for my own personal safety, the Fascist, Slokasian Intelligence Bureau is already tapping my house, they're already tapping my house."

"I leave you all with the Kaijanese proverb 'Dia yang didu, sebaiknya mencapai tinggi'.  Meaning he whose tower has the deepest supports shall reach the greatest height."

When Jones was done, he received a tremendous amount of applause.

Alain Bonnet, member of the Aurian Parliament representing the United Aurian Commune, was next. Bonnet discussed the importance of gaining legitimacy through foreign outreach in matters that aren't subject to ideological disagreement with capitalist nations, such as national defense. Using the UAC as an example, he argued for similar legitimatization through fighting alongside capitalist nations against a greater evil, namely Xiomera. "Dreamers can yet still be pragmatists," he said. Bonnet's speech was well-received by the more moderate delegates in attendance, but the response from the Milintican delegates was mixed. Cooperating with capitalist states for a mutual goal had been the hallmark of the previous administration, but was decidedly not the agenda of Arana or the Milintican Communist Party.

Lana Priede, member of the Aurian Parliament and leader of "The Wall" UAC faction, had a decidedly different approach. "Chaining ourselves to capitalists will only cement our position on a sinking ship. We are done serving the rich and always meeting their demands with a bent knee." Priede added, "Selling your soul in the name of safety is neither brave nor righteous." The more radical delegates in attendance, particularly the Milintican delegates, received this with raucous applause.

Javier Flynn, leader of the True Communist Movement of Lauchenoiria, won a strong round of applause as well for his remarks. “Those of us who still believe in a communist future for Lauchenoirians welcome the assistance of our international comrades. Averforth and Pavía are threats to all Lauchenoirians, so do not allow them to dissuade you," Flynn concluded, winning himself a gust of cheers from the Milinticans and the other more radical attendees. The Milinticans especially seemed gleeful at the idea of flipping Lauchenoiria back to the communist side.

Khara Gulug, representing the Taragaian Peoples' Revolutionary Party, mixed praise for the idea of International solidarity with a plea for a little bit of that solidarity to be directed the way of her faction in the Taragaian not-quite-civil-war. "Our government was overthrown by counter-revolutionary elements whose strings are being pulled by outside capitalist powers and fascists such as Xiomera. Please remember that our struggle is your struggle."

Huitzilimara, member of the Huenyan Chamber of Deputies representing the Huenyan Communist Party, called for both socialist movements and nations to confront "the rising number of right-leaning capitalist leaders with authoritarian tendencies," citing Huenyan President Xiadani by name as an example. Huitzilimara also called for socialist movements and governments to ensure they spoke with a united voice regarding their goals and positions.

The session was rounded out by Lōpil, Milintica's new Minister of International Outreach. "I want to thank our speakers for their wise words, and their long-standing and ongoing commitment to a better and more equal future for the people of their respective homelands. Your efforts, together with all of ours, will pave the way for the red wave we named this conference after, one step and one nation at a time. If we all work together and support each others' efforts, we will emerge victorious for the benefit of all."

A separate panel session with Devrim Köroğlu, Floor Leader of the Social Democratic Party of Haesan, and Professor Noriko Asano of the University of Saikane (Misumi) discussed capitalist indoctrination in state run secondary education. "In Eastern societies like ours, is still the state who ultimately determines who gets degrees, who gets appointed as managers, and who ultimately is in the position to oppress the working class," Köroğlu said.

Petera Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "A New Economy"

Köroğlu spoke about systemic barriers to unionization in Haesan's manufacturing sector. "Never once has Haesan been governed by a leader who truly fought for its people," Köroğlu said, adding that "the only difference between the Haesan of today and the dictatorship of the past is the name of our leader."

Milintica's Minister of Trade, Huachilotl, spoke of the importance of coordinating efforts between socialist governments to reform national economies to a socialist system. He also spoke of the importance of ensuring the rise to power of socialist governments in nations not yet led by such governments, in order to create reform in more nations and build an overall worldwide economy on socialist principles. "We can't help all people in all lands if we maintain a patchwork of societies and economies. We must all do all we can to bring about an economic revolution, even if that means expanding on political revolution."

Chancellor Jax Bertoni of Doatia caused the biggest stir of the session, and perhaps the conference, with his remarks following Huachilotl. “While I recognize the urge to transition away from capitalism and fully acknowledge the harms of late-stage capitalism, planned economies pose equal risk of abuse, corruption, and negligence. Power in the hands of the few will always be a big risk. That being said, a transition from the traditional capitalistic dominance to a system of democratic socialism, where the needs of a nation’s people are met and its economy operates fairly and equitably is essential. Healthcare, education, housing, food, and basic utilities are unalienable human rights. A right to a job, a living wage, a voice in government, and a sufficient social safety net. Universal access to a social security for retirement or disability. These are pillars of a fair and just modern society. The nation of Doatia supports a global economic transformation to embrace these values and make them a reality for all citizens of the IDU."

"But, any attempt to consolidate government power, oppress the will of the people, and line the pockets of the few will be rejected and resisted by Doatia in the strongest terms possible. If the spread of communism gains traction in the IDU, Doatia is prepared to resist in whatever ways necessary. As we speak, my team is discussing sanctions, military intervention, diplomatic consequences, and an initiative to encourage democratic socialism across the IDU. Above all, a fair economy, a democratic government, and the freedom of dignity each human is entitled to will be upheld.”

The more moderate attendees of the session were quick to applaud Bertoni's remarks. However, the Milinticans in attendance, in particular, were less than pleased. Bertoni's remarks opposing the spread of communism fell rather flat with the hosts of the event, namely, a communist party whose eagerness to tout the idea of worldwide revolution had been worn rather openly on their sleeves throughout the day.

Hall of the Martyrs
Institute of Defense
Huānoch, Milintica
Session: "Swords, Not Plowshares"

The Hall of the Martyrs was the only location of the conference, other than various mixers and socializing events, not held on the campus of the State University of the Capital. The Hall of the Martyrs was a large conference hall located at Milintica's military academy. It was dedicated to the memory of guerrillas who had fought in various campaigns and locations for Milintica to advance the cause of socialism. Its mix of martial appeal and appeals to those lost to previous struggles was an ideal setting for those who were ready to advocate for a more muscular approach to creating a red wave.

Flynn was first up, and had quite a bit to say. “These are the lessons to be learned from the Second Lauchenoirian Civil War: we must not compromise our ethics by collaborating with counterrevolutionary forces, not even to win a war. It was the involvement of Kerlile and Gonhog on Suleman Chaher’s side that caused our eventual defeat - two countries that do not know the true value of communism! We must remain faithful to our ideals, and we must fight for them! We cannot accept weak compromises, peace treaties with the capitalists, as they will always find a way to turn them to their advantages. Lauchenoirians tried to rise up once more, only to be put down by their so called Coalition of 'liberation' - a mob of capitalistic countries dedicated to destroying the Lauchenoirian revolution. Every country that fought alongside Laura Moore and her corporate cronies should be ashamed. We must never stop fighting!” Flynn received a great deal of applause from the audience, which was composed mostly of the more radical elements attending the audience. A large group of Milintican Communist Party attendees began to chant "liberate Lauchenoiria" before being convinced to pipe down for the next speaker.

Bonnet was up next. "Exclusively attempting to throw out flawed capitalist systems entirely will only breed more resistance to the righteous. We must fight them both inside and outside of their established systems. Only then can we change the status quo in a way that will last," he said. "Making a stand does not always mean making yourself a martyr. Sometimes, it's just a way to get on your feet," Bonnet added. The audience seemed more receptive to this set of remarks than Bonnet's comments during the earlier session.

Gulug was next, and she was clearly in favor of a fight. "The people of Taragai are even now waging a fight against the so-called 'reformer' puppets of the hegemonic capitalist power structure in the IDU, who seek to make every nation their vassal and every people their servants. This is a fight that is being waged in every land, whether it is obvious or not, whether it is an open fight or not." Gulug emphasized the importance of "a collective effort among all movements and governments that are on the side of the people to wage this fight everywhere."

Huitzilimara was next to speak, and she also emphasized the importance of confronting "the enemies of the people" both at home and away from home. "Whether it's with a politician's pen or a guerrilla's gun, we cannot be afraid to seek whatever levers of power there are for us to effect change." Huitzilimara also called for attendees of the conference to focus on "the major centers of the capitalist-fascist power structure" in order to effect change. "As much as I want to see change in Huenya, I must admit that Huenya is peripheral. The major capitalist powers of the world, such as Laeral, Haesan, Libertas Omnium Maximus, Sanctaria, and Eiria are the ones that truly drive the power structure of the world. We must seek change in those nations to change the world."

Ngaire Tipene, the Minister of Decolonization and Depatrichalization of Milintica, was next. "There are many means for us to cause the red wave to surge. Ideally, the first one would be political, social and cultural. In capitalist nations, there is a rising discontent at the inherent inequality of those systems. Both culturally and socially, there are many in those nations who are ready for change. Desperate for it, in fact. We must support and uplift those people, and the movements they lead and will lead in the future. Supporting those movements and future leaders as they seek political power in their countries is essential. If the governments of the nations they are from believe in democracy as fervently as they claim, when socialist leaders win elections with our help and take power, those governments shouldn't object, no?" Tipene asked, to laughter from the crowd. "But if they do object, refuse to let those who are agents of change take the lead, or prevent them from fairly seeking office in the first place, then we not only have the right to seek change through force of arms, we have a responsibility to do so. No one should live under a government that denies their voice." Tipene highlighted Milintica's long history at providing both arms and guerrillas to such movements, and urged other nations and movements to "be prepared to seek freedom if democracy fails." Tipene also expanded on Huitzilimara's remarks about targeting capitalist nations by specifically calling out "world powers where capitalism and the tyranny of the jackboot combine," such as Shuell and Xiomera. "Any nation that combines fascism and capitalism to repress their people and seek hegemonic dominance is the highest enemy of the people, and must be fought at all costs."

While this session proved highly popular, not everyone was a fan. Anja Aalto, leader of the Communist Party of Zongongia and Minister for Pensions and Labour, was overheard telling other attendees the “Swords, not Plowshares” session was “counterproductive” and “playing up to all the stereotypes about us”.

Enoka Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "True Justice is Social Justice"

Köroğlu was present at this session as well, and urged the attendees to continue to strive for change and social justice. "The capitalists are scared.  They have tried to gun us down.  They have tried to remove us from the ballot.  But time and time again, the people have chosen to give us a voice."

Huitzilimara touted Huenya's record of "incorporating social justice into our laws and policies as we formed a new government and nation" following independence from Xiomera. She said that "the driving beliefs of the Huenyan Communist Party and our allies in government" ensured that Huenya implemented principles of equality and fair treatment for all people. "Some in Huenya wanted us to become Xiomera lite - even going so far as to try to force the unwanted and unneeded crowned heads of the old Xiomeran Imperial monarchy onto us. We didn't stand for that. We helped draft the Acalan Manifesto, in which the Huenyan people made it clear that they would not accept repeating the mistakes of the old tyranny. And later, we ensured that our leaders heard us when we said that Yauhmi must go, Texōccoatl must go, all the crowned heads of ancient imperialism must go. We even forced he mighty Unification Party to listen to us, even if they did not want to, because we had the voice of the people. If we could do it, this can be done in any nation, in any society." Huitzilimara called on attendees to "promote new governments and movements in your countries that enshrine principles of social justice at the heart of everything they do." She also called on them to "devote yourselves to combating racism, gender discrimination, socioeconomic discrimination, anti-LGBTQ bias, and all other forms of discrimination" in their countries.

Catlcoatl Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "Filling the Gaps"

Jones spoke again, to another highly pleased crowd. "Education is one of the most important factors in not only personal success but the success of an entire nation. Sadily, capitalism has created pre-existing disparities both between nations and within nations. In Slokais Islands, when breaking down score on the NAP (National Aptitude Placement) exam given to 16 and 17 year old’s in preparation for college, there are clear discrepancies by both ethnic group and class. For example, students of Blancos background achieved an average NAP score of 7.1 while Kaijanese students scored a 5.9 and Mallacans a 5.6. These students are not dumb, despite what the capitalist media will have you believe. It’s simply that capitalism has favored schools in wealthier areas while putting down schools in less wealthy areas. As Minister of Education, I tried to change this fact. I diverted more funds to low-scoring schools, instead of rewarding the same constant well-performing ones. In my 18 months before I was forced to resign for my personal views, these low-scoring schools achieved on average 0.5-0.7 points better. In addition, I expanded a program to provide free meals to students and prevented tax dollars from going to divisive religious schools which forced reactionary social views."

"Education is key, my late mother Dolores Jones who taught for 20 years in the Salvador City School District always said 'education is the key which opens the door to lifelong success'. Sadly she passed due to poor health habits encouraged by capitalist society, but that’s another story. I’m actually starting a school myself, called Dolores Academy. We will teach modern social and economic values with a vegetarian diet along with the standard revolutionary curriculum. I’ve been made aware, I’m out of time, in solidarity comrades."

Aalto was next. "Our goal in the [Zongongian government] coalition is to enable the people of Zongongia to see what changes are possible should they support a transformation of the economy towards Communism. We may not be able to achieve all our goals in this format, but we can advance recognition of our party and cause, while providing the people of Zongongia with an opportunity to vote for better in the referendum.”

Huitzilimara touted Huenya's success at "democratizing" healthcare and education, and the role of the Huenyan left in achieving that. "Prior to independence, Huenya was ruled by a Xiomeran government that liked then (and still likes now) to call itself a 'meritocracy'. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Ethnic Xiomerans, particularly those from wealthy or well-connected families, were practically guaranteed to attend better schools growing up. They often had access to resources such as tutors, libraries and special 'cram coaches' that those not of ethnic Xiomeran descent never had. And under the toxic ideology of 'Xiomeran meritocracy', which really equaled Xiomeran supremacy, they almost always had first dibs on the positions in higher education and in the corporate world that enabled self-sufficiency and success. And, as one might expect, that affluence also guaranteed better health outcomes, in the form of being able to afford better food and better healthcare. Under an independent Huenyan government, one dedicated to treating all Huenyans fairly, that has all changed. Our laws now mandate equal access to educational opportunities. Our laws now mandate equal access to healthcare and eliminate loopholes that allowed the wealthy to bypass the national health service to get better care. We have aggressively eliminated many of the open and secret loopholes and back-door agreements that allowed nepotism, family and elite connections, and certain backgrounds to benefit where others could not. And we have seen Huenya get better for it, every single year. No one group dominates our boardrooms, or our halls of government, anymore."

Huitzilimara continued: "The quality of our healthcare has improved massively for our people overall. Poverty is dropping. More people every year have access to better food, better healthcare, safer and healthier living conditions, and the educational opportunities that lead to success. We've done this by making sure the wealthy pay their fair share in taxes, that corruption and profiteering don't siphon funds away from our services, and that we maintain the principle that everyone deserves the same access to what they need. And let me tell you, it wasn't the Unification Party or leaders like Xiadani who did that, or even wanted that. If you want to see where the Huenyan success story has really come from, look to the Huenyan left. And then, look to yourselves, for you are the same agents of change for your people. And you can do it."

Paiwa Henare, Minister of National Equalization for Milintica, was next. "To truly fill the gaps, as we seek, this inherently requires a government, economy and society with a foundation in social justice and a strong commitment to every single person in their country, without fear or favor. Sadly, we don't live yet in a world where that is the norm for the majority of nations or people. But it can be! Your presence here proves that. When you go home, remember who you met here today, the conversations you had and the wisdom you learned, and use that as the springboard for change where you are."

After the Sessions: 
Cihuatl Ballroom, State University of the Capital

The final gathering before the planned closing remarks was held in the Cihuatl Ballroom in the Student Union building. It was a big mixer, an opportunity for the attendees to work the room. Javier Flynn would have been busily at work trying to chat up any leader who might be willing to provide assistance to the TCM to gain power in Lauchenoiria. This would not go well for Flynn. Even the Milinticans, usually eager to send their guerrillas off to fight the good fight, weren't ready to provoke Lauchenoiria - yet. Flynn would leave Huānoch empty-handed, at least for now.

Priede, for her part, would be working the room in a different way. As Bonnet mingled unaware, Priede was chatting up the Milinticans. Many Milintican figures, both publicly and privately, had already expressed support for the UAC taking a different direction. Priede saw Arana and her supporters, and Milintica in general, as natural allies. Priede was strongly hoping that the seeds she was planting would take root and prove to be fruitful for her.

Huitzilimara was also working the Milinticans. It was already very evident that the Presidents of Milintica and Huenya despised each other. Huitzilimara did have one thing in common with Neina Arana other than communism - she also despised Xiadani. Convincing the Milinticans to help Huenya's Communist Party was practically guaranteed success, under those circumstances.

Jones was chatting up a different group of people - namely, reporters. "In a historic moment of worldwide conflict and chaos not seen since the Great War, the Red Wave conference has been very productive. The capitalists don't want this, the imperialists don't want this, they don't want the workers of the world to unite for freedom." He added, "Liberation can only be achieved through the mechanism of socialism. The vehicle, armed struggle or by political methods is up for those who are driving to decide."

Closing Ceremony
Ao Marire Auditorium, State University of the Capital

As the conference drew to a close, the auditorium filled up once more for the closing ceremony. At the appointed time, the lights darkened once more. The Milintican State Orchestra struck up a classic revolutionary tune from the days of the Milintican switch to socialism. The tune smoothly transitioned to snippets of the national anthems of IDU nations, as a new group of people entered the auditorium. Members of the recently re-established Milintican Red Youth Corps carried in the same flags of the IDU nations from the opening ceremony as the snippets played. The flagpoles had red banners hanging from them as well, which swung from the top of the flagpoles as the banner-carriers walked to line up at the rear of the stage. The message was once again clear: Milintica may have been a tiny nation, but it had big ambitions for the world.

When the orchestra finally stopped, Neina Arana walked to the podium to applause from the crowd. They were hoping for a strong speech from the firebrand new President to close things out. They would not be disappointed.

"Honored delegates and attendees, thank you so much for attending this conference, and being here in solidarity with us. I was truly hoping for this first Red Wave Conference to be a success, but you have made it exceed even my wildest dreams. I am so grateful to have all of you here," Arana said. "The spirit that you have brought to Milintica, and to this conference, reaffirms our faith in a red future for our world. You have come here from different nations, backgrounds, and societies, but one thing has brought you all here: your commitment to a better world."

"I am convinced now, more than ever, that the future is ours to shape. By working together for a common cause and goal, we will change the world. The Red Wave will rise, in nation after nation. And you are the ones who will make that happen."

As the crowd cheered, Arana raised her hands. "If we all work together, support each other no matter the cost, and persevere no matter the challenge, we cannot help but prevail. Just as you all stand together here, Milintica stands with you. When you need support, Milintica will be here. If you need refuge from persecution, Milintica will be here. No matter what happens, your struggle is our struggle. As proof of that commitment, I am proud to announce that Milintican volunteers will soon travel to Taragai, to help our fellow communist Chaghagan Khoga in his fight against the counter-revolutionary puppets of capitalist powers that are trying to seize Taragai from its people."

Gulug grinned broadly at Arana's words. Khoga's faction had been struggling badly, and Milintican support could turn the tide for them.

"Milintica is also ready, in a way that has been long coming, to prove our loyalty to you, and to this fight," Arana said before taking a dramatic pause. She raised her right hand, pointing at the ceiling. "Effective immediately, Milintica is withdrawing from the Union of Caxcanan States. We are removing the fetters of an anti-socialist alliance with capitalist demons from our necks once and for all. The previous leadership of this country lost their way, which is why they joined such an alliance in the first place. Instead of siding with the capitalists for one second longer, Milintica stands with you, and with the people of our land and every land!"

As the crowd cheered again, Arana smiled. "A true worldwide movement of the people will be stronger than any hegemonic alliance of capitalists and oligarchs. Today, starting now, we are forging that movement. And when we are done, we will build the monument to our movement on the foundations of the toppled edifices of those who dared suppress the proletariat!"

Arana raised her hands once more, as the crowd roared. "Take the spirit you have found here today home with you. Fight the good fight, every day in every way. And together, we will be the red wave."]]> Opening Ceremony
Ao Marire Auditorium, State University of the Capital
Huānoch, Milintica

The Ao Marire Auditorium had been chosen by the organizers of the Red Wave Conference as the site of the opening and closing ceremonies. It was the second largest auditorium in Milintica, and its towering walls were a representation of Milintican ideology in concrete and brick form. The angular, unadorned architecture promised uniformity, solidity, equality and endurance - everything that the Milintican state aspired to be. Not just for itself, but for the world, if the most idealistic, ambitious and ideologically driven among them had their way.

The Ao, as it was affectionately known by State University of the Capital students and alumni, was the ideal centerpiece for the Conference for another reason. Ao Marire, the first socialist President of Milintica, had been a driving figure in the conversion of Milintica into a socialist state from 1917 to 1923. His own "red wave", in its way, was an inspiration for Neina Arana and the others who had planned the conference.

As the assembled delegates and guests waited, the lights slowly dimmed in the auditorium. Bright red spotlights then slowly came to light, highlighting the flags of the IDU assembled on the wall behind the podium. Flags for every recognized IDU nation were there, not just the flags of the nations attending the conference. Revolution is for everyone, Neina Arana liked to say. From its very opening scene, the conference was meant to be a very clear shot across the bow of the contented capitalist nations of the IDU.

As a new set of spotlights rose onto the stage, a figure dressed in jeans and a rough button-down shirt walked to the podium. Mazayotl, the new Prime Minister of Milintica, smiled broadly as he took the microphone. "Honored delegates and guests, welcome to Milintica, and to the State University of the Capital! Our nation and our peoples welcome you in solidarity, brotherhood and sisterhood. We welcome you to this first Red Wave Conference - the first, with our collective strength behind it, of many. Change is constant, and so is the need for us to fight for the people. So this conference shall likewise be ongoing, until such time as the red wave of change sweeps our world."

As the crowd cheered, Mazayotl smiled again. "Your presence here shows your commitment to the fight for equality and for change. Milintica shares your resolve, and we will stand with you as we seek change around the world."

As Mazayotl continued with his speech, Milintica's President waited for her own turn at the podium to come, at the end of the conference. For now, she was at Haven House, managing an entirely different matter. The country's former President, Matōchmizalo, and the Milintican Peoples' Party had been barred from attending the conference. The MPP had planned to protest their ban outside the conference. Arana was not having any of that. Huaxō, the new National Police Commissioner, had already been given his marching orders. Several hours before the conference started, both Matōchmizalo and former Prime Minister Tupai Tapihana had quietly been detained. With their two top leaders suddenly out of the loop, the MPP found itself a bit disarmed as the National Police surrounded their headquarters building "for security purposes."

Tazal Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "International Solidarity"

First up was Spartacus Jones, Member of the Slokaisian Legislature, representing Revolt! "First of all, I would like to acknowledge all the comrades who have died in the struggle for Kaijanese independence, both against the violent armed groups such as the Kaijan League which try to install their brand of Fascism and the abusive government of Brooke Weasley."

"Kaijan, for those unaware, is an island of Slokais, which has been oppressed by both colonial powers for many centuries and by decades of capitalist mismanagement. Slokais is a country which claims to be diverse yet in reality is controlled by Catholic Anglo-Costanoan capitalist elites. I was educated of these injustices by my brother in arms, Mohamed Al-Marwasai in 2016. I had a mental break the prior year, the capitalist music industry had broken me after years of performing and industry deals, and I was on a retreat in the mountains in North Kaijan. During this time, I read many pieces of key leftist literature, including Al-Marwasai's 'Isle of Greed'. I would recommend it to all comrades here, a real 10 of 10 book. I actually tried to promote it as Minister of Education, but the powers that be wouldn’t have that, they wouldn't have that."

"Anyway, I invited Al-Marwasai to my retreat. We had several good vegetarian meals. And then he informed me what had been done to his people. The federal government had begun a program in 2012 which put infrastructure and business planning in the hands of private partners, these partners were simply the sons and daughters of these colonial sugar companies. He explained to me that many turned to radical Islam as a way of comradery and escape from capitalist reality. Although I respect the religion, its radical implementation has seen fascistic practices such as the arrest of those who don’t live by their social code. I believe in religious freedom, but not the ability to deny others of their freedoms for the sake of religion."

"I realized at that moment, not only did Slokais Island need socialism or the world needed socialism, but each and every people group needed socialism. Economically and socially, an independent Socialist, Kaijanese state would be self-sufficient and free of the exploitative wills of some Slokasians. Liberation can only be achieved through the mechanism of socialism. The vehicle, armed struggle or by political methods is up for those who are driving to decide. I won’t speak publicly on which method I prefer for my own personal safety, the Fascist, Slokasian Intelligence Bureau is already tapping my house, they're already tapping my house."

"I leave you all with the Kaijanese proverb 'Dia yang didu, sebaiknya mencapai tinggi'.  Meaning he whose tower has the deepest supports shall reach the greatest height."

When Jones was done, he received a tremendous amount of applause.

Alain Bonnet, member of the Aurian Parliament representing the United Aurian Commune, was next. Bonnet discussed the importance of gaining legitimacy through foreign outreach in matters that aren't subject to ideological disagreement with capitalist nations, such as national defense. Using the UAC as an example, he argued for similar legitimatization through fighting alongside capitalist nations against a greater evil, namely Xiomera. "Dreamers can yet still be pragmatists," he said. Bonnet's speech was well-received by the more moderate delegates in attendance, but the response from the Milintican delegates was mixed. Cooperating with capitalist states for a mutual goal had been the hallmark of the previous administration, but was decidedly not the agenda of Arana or the Milintican Communist Party.

Lana Priede, member of the Aurian Parliament and leader of "The Wall" UAC faction, had a decidedly different approach. "Chaining ourselves to capitalists will only cement our position on a sinking ship. We are done serving the rich and always meeting their demands with a bent knee." Priede added, "Selling your soul in the name of safety is neither brave nor righteous." The more radical delegates in attendance, particularly the Milintican delegates, received this with raucous applause.

Javier Flynn, leader of the True Communist Movement of Lauchenoiria, won a strong round of applause as well for his remarks. “Those of us who still believe in a communist future for Lauchenoirians welcome the assistance of our international comrades. Averforth and Pavía are threats to all Lauchenoirians, so do not allow them to dissuade you," Flynn concluded, winning himself a gust of cheers from the Milinticans and the other more radical attendees. The Milinticans especially seemed gleeful at the idea of flipping Lauchenoiria back to the communist side.

Khara Gulug, representing the Taragaian Peoples' Revolutionary Party, mixed praise for the idea of International solidarity with a plea for a little bit of that solidarity to be directed the way of her faction in the Taragaian not-quite-civil-war. "Our government was overthrown by counter-revolutionary elements whose strings are being pulled by outside capitalist powers and fascists such as Xiomera. Please remember that our struggle is your struggle."

Huitzilimara, member of the Huenyan Chamber of Deputies representing the Huenyan Communist Party, called for both socialist movements and nations to confront "the rising number of right-leaning capitalist leaders with authoritarian tendencies," citing Huenyan President Xiadani by name as an example. Huitzilimara also called for socialist movements and governments to ensure they spoke with a united voice regarding their goals and positions.

The session was rounded out by Lōpil, Milintica's new Minister of International Outreach. "I want to thank our speakers for their wise words, and their long-standing and ongoing commitment to a better and more equal future for the people of their respective homelands. Your efforts, together with all of ours, will pave the way for the red wave we named this conference after, one step and one nation at a time. If we all work together and support each others' efforts, we will emerge victorious for the benefit of all."

A separate panel session with Devrim Köroğlu, Floor Leader of the Social Democratic Party of Haesan, and Professor Noriko Asano of the University of Saikane (Misumi) discussed capitalist indoctrination in state run secondary education. "In Eastern societies like ours, is still the state who ultimately determines who gets degrees, who gets appointed as managers, and who ultimately is in the position to oppress the working class," Köroğlu said.

Petera Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "A New Economy"

Köroğlu spoke about systemic barriers to unionization in Haesan's manufacturing sector. "Never once has Haesan been governed by a leader who truly fought for its people," Köroğlu said, adding that "the only difference between the Haesan of today and the dictatorship of the past is the name of our leader."

Milintica's Minister of Trade, Huachilotl, spoke of the importance of coordinating efforts between socialist governments to reform national economies to a socialist system. He also spoke of the importance of ensuring the rise to power of socialist governments in nations not yet led by such governments, in order to create reform in more nations and build an overall worldwide economy on socialist principles. "We can't help all people in all lands if we maintain a patchwork of societies and economies. We must all do all we can to bring about an economic revolution, even if that means expanding on political revolution."

Chancellor Jax Bertoni of Doatia caused the biggest stir of the session, and perhaps the conference, with his remarks following Huachilotl. “While I recognize the urge to transition away from capitalism and fully acknowledge the harms of late-stage capitalism, planned economies pose equal risk of abuse, corruption, and negligence. Power in the hands of the few will always be a big risk. That being said, a transition from the traditional capitalistic dominance to a system of democratic socialism, where the needs of a nation’s people are met and its economy operates fairly and equitably is essential. Healthcare, education, housing, food, and basic utilities are unalienable human rights. A right to a job, a living wage, a voice in government, and a sufficient social safety net. Universal access to a social security for retirement or disability. These are pillars of a fair and just modern society. The nation of Doatia supports a global economic transformation to embrace these values and make them a reality for all citizens of the IDU."

"But, any attempt to consolidate government power, oppress the will of the people, and line the pockets of the few will be rejected and resisted by Doatia in the strongest terms possible. If the spread of communism gains traction in the IDU, Doatia is prepared to resist in whatever ways necessary. As we speak, my team is discussing sanctions, military intervention, diplomatic consequences, and an initiative to encourage democratic socialism across the IDU. Above all, a fair economy, a democratic government, and the freedom of dignity each human is entitled to will be upheld.”

The more moderate attendees of the session were quick to applaud Bertoni's remarks. However, the Milinticans in attendance, in particular, were less than pleased. Bertoni's remarks opposing the spread of communism fell rather flat with the hosts of the event, namely, a communist party whose eagerness to tout the idea of worldwide revolution had been worn rather openly on their sleeves throughout the day.

Hall of the Martyrs
Institute of Defense
Huānoch, Milintica
Session: "Swords, Not Plowshares"

The Hall of the Martyrs was the only location of the conference, other than various mixers and socializing events, not held on the campus of the State University of the Capital. The Hall of the Martyrs was a large conference hall located at Milintica's military academy. It was dedicated to the memory of guerrillas who had fought in various campaigns and locations for Milintica to advance the cause of socialism. Its mix of martial appeal and appeals to those lost to previous struggles was an ideal setting for those who were ready to advocate for a more muscular approach to creating a red wave.

Flynn was first up, and had quite a bit to say. “These are the lessons to be learned from the Second Lauchenoirian Civil War: we must not compromise our ethics by collaborating with counterrevolutionary forces, not even to win a war. It was the involvement of Kerlile and Gonhog on Suleman Chaher’s side that caused our eventual defeat - two countries that do not know the true value of communism! We must remain faithful to our ideals, and we must fight for them! We cannot accept weak compromises, peace treaties with the capitalists, as they will always find a way to turn them to their advantages. Lauchenoirians tried to rise up once more, only to be put down by their so called Coalition of 'liberation' - a mob of capitalistic countries dedicated to destroying the Lauchenoirian revolution. Every country that fought alongside Laura Moore and her corporate cronies should be ashamed. We must never stop fighting!” Flynn received a great deal of applause from the audience, which was composed mostly of the more radical elements attending the audience. A large group of Milintican Communist Party attendees began to chant "liberate Lauchenoiria" before being convinced to pipe down for the next speaker.

Bonnet was up next. "Exclusively attempting to throw out flawed capitalist systems entirely will only breed more resistance to the righteous. We must fight them both inside and outside of their established systems. Only then can we change the status quo in a way that will last," he said. "Making a stand does not always mean making yourself a martyr. Sometimes, it's just a way to get on your feet," Bonnet added. The audience seemed more receptive to this set of remarks than Bonnet's comments during the earlier session.

Gulug was next, and she was clearly in favor of a fight. "The people of Taragai are even now waging a fight against the so-called 'reformer' puppets of the hegemonic capitalist power structure in the IDU, who seek to make every nation their vassal and every people their servants. This is a fight that is being waged in every land, whether it is obvious or not, whether it is an open fight or not." Gulug emphasized the importance of "a collective effort among all movements and governments that are on the side of the people to wage this fight everywhere."

Huitzilimara was next to speak, and she also emphasized the importance of confronting "the enemies of the people" both at home and away from home. "Whether it's with a politician's pen or a guerrilla's gun, we cannot be afraid to seek whatever levers of power there are for us to effect change." Huitzilimara also called for attendees of the conference to focus on "the major centers of the capitalist-fascist power structure" in order to effect change. "As much as I want to see change in Huenya, I must admit that Huenya is peripheral. The major capitalist powers of the world, such as Laeral, Haesan, Libertas Omnium Maximus, Sanctaria, and Eiria are the ones that truly drive the power structure of the world. We must seek change in those nations to change the world."

Ngaire Tipene, the Minister of Decolonization and Depatrichalization of Milintica, was next. "There are many means for us to cause the red wave to surge. Ideally, the first one would be political, social and cultural. In capitalist nations, there is a rising discontent at the inherent inequality of those systems. Both culturally and socially, there are many in those nations who are ready for change. Desperate for it, in fact. We must support and uplift those people, and the movements they lead and will lead in the future. Supporting those movements and future leaders as they seek political power in their countries is essential. If the governments of the nations they are from believe in democracy as fervently as they claim, when socialist leaders win elections with our help and take power, those governments shouldn't object, no?" Tipene asked, to laughter from the crowd. "But if they do object, refuse to let those who are agents of change take the lead, or prevent them from fairly seeking office in the first place, then we not only have the right to seek change through force of arms, we have a responsibility to do so. No one should live under a government that denies their voice." Tipene highlighted Milintica's long history at providing both arms and guerrillas to such movements, and urged other nations and movements to "be prepared to seek freedom if democracy fails." Tipene also expanded on Huitzilimara's remarks about targeting capitalist nations by specifically calling out "world powers where capitalism and the tyranny of the jackboot combine," such as Shuell and Xiomera. "Any nation that combines fascism and capitalism to repress their people and seek hegemonic dominance is the highest enemy of the people, and must be fought at all costs."

While this session proved highly popular, not everyone was a fan. Anja Aalto, leader of the Communist Party of Zongongia and Minister for Pensions and Labour, was overheard telling other attendees the “Swords, not Plowshares” session was “counterproductive” and “playing up to all the stereotypes about us”.

Enoka Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "True Justice is Social Justice"

Köroğlu was present at this session as well, and urged the attendees to continue to strive for change and social justice. "The capitalists are scared.  They have tried to gun us down.  They have tried to remove us from the ballot.  But time and time again, the people have chosen to give us a voice."

Huitzilimara touted Huenya's record of "incorporating social justice into our laws and policies as we formed a new government and nation" following independence from Xiomera. She said that "the driving beliefs of the Huenyan Communist Party and our allies in government" ensured that Huenya implemented principles of equality and fair treatment for all people. "Some in Huenya wanted us to become Xiomera lite - even going so far as to try to force the unwanted and unneeded crowned heads of the old Xiomeran Imperial monarchy onto us. We didn't stand for that. We helped draft the Acalan Manifesto, in which the Huenyan people made it clear that they would not accept repeating the mistakes of the old tyranny. And later, we ensured that our leaders heard us when we said that Yauhmi must go, Texōccoatl must go, all the crowned heads of ancient imperialism must go. We even forced he mighty Unification Party to listen to us, even if they did not want to, because we had the voice of the people. If we could do it, this can be done in any nation, in any society." Huitzilimara called on attendees to "promote new governments and movements in your countries that enshrine principles of social justice at the heart of everything they do." She also called on them to "devote yourselves to combating racism, gender discrimination, socioeconomic discrimination, anti-LGBTQ bias, and all other forms of discrimination" in their countries.

Catlcoatl Hall, State University of the Capital
Session: "Filling the Gaps"

Jones spoke again, to another highly pleased crowd. "Education is one of the most important factors in not only personal success but the success of an entire nation. Sadily, capitalism has created pre-existing disparities both between nations and within nations. In Slokais Islands, when breaking down score on the NAP (National Aptitude Placement) exam given to 16 and 17 year old’s in preparation for college, there are clear discrepancies by both ethnic group and class. For example, students of Blancos background achieved an average NAP score of 7.1 while Kaijanese students scored a 5.9 and Mallacans a 5.6. These students are not dumb, despite what the capitalist media will have you believe. It’s simply that capitalism has favored schools in wealthier areas while putting down schools in less wealthy areas. As Minister of Education, I tried to change this fact. I diverted more funds to low-scoring schools, instead of rewarding the same constant well-performing ones. In my 18 months before I was forced to resign for my personal views, these low-scoring schools achieved on average 0.5-0.7 points better. In addition, I expanded a program to provide free meals to students and prevented tax dollars from going to divisive religious schools which forced reactionary social views."

"Education is key, my late mother Dolores Jones who taught for 20 years in the Salvador City School District always said 'education is the key which opens the door to lifelong success'. Sadly she passed due to poor health habits encouraged by capitalist society, but that’s another story. I’m actually starting a school myself, called Dolores Academy. We will teach modern social and economic values with a vegetarian diet along with the standard revolutionary curriculum. I’ve been made aware, I’m out of time, in solidarity comrades."

Aalto was next. "Our goal in the [Zongongian government] coalition is to enable the people of Zongongia to see what changes are possible should they support a transformation of the economy towards Communism. We may not be able to achieve all our goals in this format, but we can advance recognition of our party and cause, while providing the people of Zongongia with an opportunity to vote for better in the referendum.”

Huitzilimara touted Huenya's success at "democratizing" healthcare and education, and the role of the Huenyan left in achieving that. "Prior to independence, Huenya was ruled by a Xiomeran government that liked then (and still likes now) to call itself a 'meritocracy'. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Ethnic Xiomerans, particularly those from wealthy or well-connected families, were practically guaranteed to attend better schools growing up. They often had access to resources such as tutors, libraries and special 'cram coaches' that those not of ethnic Xiomeran descent never had. And under the toxic ideology of 'Xiomeran meritocracy', which really equaled Xiomeran supremacy, they almost always had first dibs on the positions in higher education and in the corporate world that enabled self-sufficiency and success. And, as one might expect, that affluence also guaranteed better health outcomes, in the form of being able to afford better food and better healthcare. Under an independent Huenyan government, one dedicated to treating all Huenyans fairly, that has all changed. Our laws now mandate equal access to educational opportunities. Our laws now mandate equal access to healthcare and eliminate loopholes that allowed the wealthy to bypass the national health service to get better care. We have aggressively eliminated many of the open and secret loopholes and back-door agreements that allowed nepotism, family and elite connections, and certain backgrounds to benefit where others could not. And we have seen Huenya get better for it, every single year. No one group dominates our boardrooms, or our halls of government, anymore."

Huitzilimara continued: "The quality of our healthcare has improved massively for our people overall. Poverty is dropping. More people every year have access to better food, better healthcare, safer and healthier living conditions, and the educational opportunities that lead to success. We've done this by making sure the wealthy pay their fair share in taxes, that corruption and profiteering don't siphon funds away from our services, and that we maintain the principle that everyone deserves the same access to what they need. And let me tell you, it wasn't the Unification Party or leaders like Xiadani who did that, or even wanted that. If you want to see where the Huenyan success story has really come from, look to the Huenyan left. And then, look to yourselves, for you are the same agents of change for your people. And you can do it."

Paiwa Henare, Minister of National Equalization for Milintica, was next. "To truly fill the gaps, as we seek, this inherently requires a government, economy and society with a foundation in social justice and a strong commitment to every single person in their country, without fear or favor. Sadly, we don't live yet in a world where that is the norm for the majority of nations or people. But it can be! Your presence here proves that. When you go home, remember who you met here today, the conversations you had and the wisdom you learned, and use that as the springboard for change where you are."

After the Sessions: 
Cihuatl Ballroom, State University of the Capital

The final gathering before the planned closing remarks was held in the Cihuatl Ballroom in the Student Union building. It was a big mixer, an opportunity for the attendees to work the room. Javier Flynn would have been busily at work trying to chat up any leader who might be willing to provide assistance to the TCM to gain power in Lauchenoiria. This would not go well for Flynn. Even the Milinticans, usually eager to send their guerrillas off to fight the good fight, weren't ready to provoke Lauchenoiria - yet. Flynn would leave Huānoch empty-handed, at least for now.

Priede, for her part, would be working the room in a different way. As Bonnet mingled unaware, Priede was chatting up the Milinticans. Many Milintican figures, both publicly and privately, had already expressed support for the UAC taking a different direction. Priede saw Arana and her supporters, and Milintica in general, as natural allies. Priede was strongly hoping that the seeds she was planting would take root and prove to be fruitful for her.

Huitzilimara was also working the Milinticans. It was already very evident that the Presidents of Milintica and Huenya despised each other. Huitzilimara did have one thing in common with Neina Arana other than communism - she also despised Xiadani. Convincing the Milinticans to help Huenya's Communist Party was practically guaranteed success, under those circumstances.

Jones was chatting up a different group of people - namely, reporters. "In a historic moment of worldwide conflict and chaos not seen since the Great War, the Red Wave conference has been very productive. The capitalists don't want this, the imperialists don't want this, they don't want the workers of the world to unite for freedom." He added, "Liberation can only be achieved through the mechanism of socialism. The vehicle, armed struggle or by political methods is up for those who are driving to decide."

Closing Ceremony
Ao Marire Auditorium, State University of the Capital

As the conference drew to a close, the auditorium filled up once more for the closing ceremony. At the appointed time, the lights darkened once more. The Milintican State Orchestra struck up a classic revolutionary tune from the days of the Milintican switch to socialism. The tune smoothly transitioned to snippets of the national anthems of IDU nations, as a new group of people entered the auditorium. Members of the recently re-established Milintican Red Youth Corps carried in the same flags of the IDU nations from the opening ceremony as the snippets played. The flagpoles had red banners hanging from them as well, which swung from the top of the flagpoles as the banner-carriers walked to line up at the rear of the stage. The message was once again clear: Milintica may have been a tiny nation, but it had big ambitions for the world.

When the orchestra finally stopped, Neina Arana walked to the podium to applause from the crowd. They were hoping for a strong speech from the firebrand new President to close things out. They would not be disappointed.

"Honored delegates and attendees, thank you so much for attending this conference, and being here in solidarity with us. I was truly hoping for this first Red Wave Conference to be a success, but you have made it exceed even my wildest dreams. I am so grateful to have all of you here," Arana said. "The spirit that you have brought to Milintica, and to this conference, reaffirms our faith in a red future for our world. You have come here from different nations, backgrounds, and societies, but one thing has brought you all here: your commitment to a better world."

"I am convinced now, more than ever, that the future is ours to shape. By working together for a common cause and goal, we will change the world. The Red Wave will rise, in nation after nation. And you are the ones who will make that happen."

As the crowd cheered, Arana raised her hands. "If we all work together, support each other no matter the cost, and persevere no matter the challenge, we cannot help but prevail. Just as you all stand together here, Milintica stands with you. When you need support, Milintica will be here. If you need refuge from persecution, Milintica will be here. No matter what happens, your struggle is our struggle. As proof of that commitment, I am proud to announce that Milintican volunteers will soon travel to Taragai, to help our fellow communist Chaghagan Khoga in his fight against the counter-revolutionary puppets of capitalist powers that are trying to seize Taragai from its people."

Gulug grinned broadly at Arana's words. Khoga's faction had been struggling badly, and Milintican support could turn the tide for them.

"Milintica is also ready, in a way that has been long coming, to prove our loyalty to you, and to this fight," Arana said before taking a dramatic pause. She raised her right hand, pointing at the ceiling. "Effective immediately, Milintica is withdrawing from the Union of Caxcanan States. We are removing the fetters of an anti-socialist alliance with capitalist demons from our necks once and for all. The previous leadership of this country lost their way, which is why they joined such an alliance in the first place. Instead of siding with the capitalists for one second longer, Milintica stands with you, and with the people of our land and every land!"

As the crowd cheered again, Arana smiled. "A true worldwide movement of the people will be stronger than any hegemonic alliance of capitalists and oligarchs. Today, starting now, we are forging that movement. And when we are done, we will build the monument to our movement on the foundations of the toppled edifices of those who dared suppress the proletariat!"

Arana raised her hands once more, as the crowd roared. "Take the spirit you have found here today home with you. Fight the good fight, every day in every way. And together, we will be the red wave."]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2485 Fri, 08 Nov 2024 15:59:07 -0600 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2485 November 8th
Council of Custodians Chambers

Normally, sessions of the Council of Custodians were simple and quiet affairs. The thirty-six members of the Saladian legislature (those who bothered to show up to session, anyway) weren't the aggressively diligent type. Usually, they were on their phones, napping, or chatting while whoever was at the podium nattered on about whatever it was they were talking about. Today, however, was different.

Prime Minister Leighton Taylor had everyone's full attention for once. Since his abrupt decision to leave the Unlimited Salad Party and run on a platform of ending the Saladian monarchy, Taylor had been the chief subject of talk around the Council Chambers. Around the entire country, for that matter. The Custodians were all there for once, and were watching and listening intently.

"The decision I made was not one made lightly," Taylor said, to a mix of booing and cheers. The Speaker of the Council, Valeré Patenaude, would have normally tried to maintain order as Taylor was speaking. But as he was now Taylor's chief rival in the PM race, he was content to let Taylor be in the hot seat.

"It is clear that the Marquis is a criminal and a conman, not to mention a minor tyrant. He's no Calhualyana, admittedly, but still, Salad Land can do better. We don't need a ruler. If other countries can do it, so can we! Join me and the new Toss de Salad Party, and let's be rid of the Marquis once and for all! Saladians deserve honest, fair and competent leadership!"

"You mean the kind of leadership like yours, that almost got us conquered by the Xiomerans?" Patenaude sneered, interrupting Taylor. The Prime Minister turned red as Patenaude's backers cheered. "I don't apologize for trying to do the right thing, unlike you and your side that seems to try to avoid the right thing like it's a plague of lizards!" Taylor shouted. "Some of us are done with being led by crooks!"

A USP-aligned Custodian named Julien Babineaux stood up. "Je t'emmerde!" he shouted, reaching under his desk and grabbing something. He quickly removed a bit of plastic wrap and lobbed it at Taylor. The object flew through the air with stunning accuracy, striking Taylor in the chest. It was a small Caesar salad. Croutons, lettuce and cheese exploded all over Taylor's fine suit. A single tomato landed on the Great Seal of Salad Land behind Taylor with a wet plop.

Now, throwing a salad at someone is a grave insult in Salad Land. It is, in fact, one of the worst insults possible to a Saladian. Taylor looked down at his now-Caesared suit. His face reddened even more. "Bastard!" he shouted back, grabbing the now empty bowl and throwing it back at Babineaux. It struck Babineaux on his prominent forehead with a satisfying thwack. Babineaux dropped into his chair with a loud groan.

The resulting brawl required the full attention of the Saladian Police Service to bring to an end. With that, election season was underway in Salad Land.]]> November 8th
Council of Custodians Chambers

Normally, sessions of the Council of Custodians were simple and quiet affairs. The thirty-six members of the Saladian legislature (those who bothered to show up to session, anyway) weren't the aggressively diligent type. Usually, they were on their phones, napping, or chatting while whoever was at the podium nattered on about whatever it was they were talking about. Today, however, was different.

Prime Minister Leighton Taylor had everyone's full attention for once. Since his abrupt decision to leave the Unlimited Salad Party and run on a platform of ending the Saladian monarchy, Taylor had been the chief subject of talk around the Council Chambers. Around the entire country, for that matter. The Custodians were all there for once, and were watching and listening intently.

"The decision I made was not one made lightly," Taylor said, to a mix of booing and cheers. The Speaker of the Council, Valeré Patenaude, would have normally tried to maintain order as Taylor was speaking. But as he was now Taylor's chief rival in the PM race, he was content to let Taylor be in the hot seat.

"It is clear that the Marquis is a criminal and a conman, not to mention a minor tyrant. He's no Calhualyana, admittedly, but still, Salad Land can do better. We don't need a ruler. If other countries can do it, so can we! Join me and the new Toss de Salad Party, and let's be rid of the Marquis once and for all! Saladians deserve honest, fair and competent leadership!"

"You mean the kind of leadership like yours, that almost got us conquered by the Xiomerans?" Patenaude sneered, interrupting Taylor. The Prime Minister turned red as Patenaude's backers cheered. "I don't apologize for trying to do the right thing, unlike you and your side that seems to try to avoid the right thing like it's a plague of lizards!" Taylor shouted. "Some of us are done with being led by crooks!"

A USP-aligned Custodian named Julien Babineaux stood up. "Je t'emmerde!" he shouted, reaching under his desk and grabbing something. He quickly removed a bit of plastic wrap and lobbed it at Taylor. The object flew through the air with stunning accuracy, striking Taylor in the chest. It was a small Caesar salad. Croutons, lettuce and cheese exploded all over Taylor's fine suit. A single tomato landed on the Great Seal of Salad Land behind Taylor with a wet plop.

Now, throwing a salad at someone is a grave insult in Salad Land. It is, in fact, one of the worst insults possible to a Saladian. Taylor looked down at his now-Caesared suit. His face reddened even more. "Bastard!" he shouted back, grabbing the now empty bowl and throwing it back at Babineaux. It struck Babineaux on his prominent forehead with a satisfying thwack. Babineaux dropped into his chair with a loud groan.

The resulting brawl required the full attention of the Saladian Police Service to bring to an end. With that, election season was underway in Salad Land.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2484 Tue, 22 Oct 2024 07:45:25 -0500 Greater Acadia]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2484
The silent pacing continued before Vuong finally stopped and rounded on Phuoc.

"You said you would handle this!" He shouted.

"And I have!" Phuoc returned, rising from his seat. "You asked me to stop the demonstrations. I have done as I have before!"

"And now we face open rebellion!" Vuong countered. "They've attacked your bases in the north, or have you forgotten?!"

"I have not! Nor will I stand by and let it happen again!" Phuoc again countered. "We know they are located in the jungles. I am planning operations to root out these rebels and destroy them."

Vuong glared, eyes narrowing towards Phuoc. "See that you do, General. And when you do, make sure to take Phantasium in alive. A public execution of such an agitator will calm the masses."

Phuoc sighed. "If only Kwon hadn't been so incompetent. Had his plot to assassinate that liberal bastard gone to plan, we wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place."

Vuong sat in his chair, leaning back. "And yet it didn't. That moron may be gone now, but he left us picking up the pieces."

"Makes you wonder whether it was intentional or not."

"Yes..." Phuoc's eyes darkened as the generals words sank in. "Yes it does..."]]>
The silent pacing continued before Vuong finally stopped and rounded on Phuoc.

"You said you would handle this!" He shouted.

"And I have!" Phuoc returned, rising from his seat. "You asked me to stop the demonstrations. I have done as I have before!"

"And now we face open rebellion!" Vuong countered. "They've attacked your bases in the north, or have you forgotten?!"

"I have not! Nor will I stand by and let it happen again!" Phuoc again countered. "We know they are located in the jungles. I am planning operations to root out these rebels and destroy them."

Vuong glared, eyes narrowing towards Phuoc. "See that you do, General. And when you do, make sure to take Phantasium in alive. A public execution of such an agitator will calm the masses."

Phuoc sighed. "If only Kwon hadn't been so incompetent. Had his plot to assassinate that liberal bastard gone to plan, we wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place."

Vuong sat in his chair, leaning back. "And yet it didn't. That moron may be gone now, but he left us picking up the pieces."

"Makes you wonder whether it was intentional or not."

"Yes..." Phuoc's eyes darkened as the generals words sank in. "Yes it does..."]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2483 Mon, 07 Oct 2024 21:18:52 -0500 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2483 (Note: These events take place after the 2024 Milintican election).

Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya

President Xiadani was very displeased with Neina Arana.

The leader of Huenya was certainly not unique in that regard. Arana had only been President of Milintica for six days, but millions of Milinticans (MPP backers, mostly) were already very annoyed with the country's new leader. Arana hadn't been doing much to endear herself to leaders in other countries, either. But Huenya had two bones to pick in particular with the new Milintican administration.

The first one involved dozens of Huenyans working for the State Department who had unceremoniously been placed on planes out of the country on October 5th. The Milintican government had not been kidding when they had said election observers would no longer be welcome in the country once the new administration took over. Xiadani did not yet know if election observers from other countries had been forced to leave as well, but she had little doubt she would be receiving aggrieved messages soon enough on that matter.

The fact that Huenyan citizens had been bundled onto planes like luggage and shipped back home without even a heads up to the Huenyan government was actually the second strike, as far as Xiadani was concerned. The first strike had been when two Huenyan officials had been arrested by local police in the town of Aropaonui. Unlike the other Huenyan observers, those two were still in Milintica, in a jail cell. Xiadani was very displeased about that in particular.

It was with that displeasure in mind that Xiadani asked her assistant to place a phone call to Huānoch. Xiadani believed that a conversation between presidents was long overdue.

Xiadani waited for the call to go through. And waited. And waited.

Eventually, her assistant, Moquihui, came back on the line with an apologetic tone to his voice. "Sorry, Madam President, but Haven House has declined to accept your call."

"Declined." Xiadani said the word as if Moquihui had just dropped jaguar dung onto her desk.

Moquihui sighed. "Arana's office said they are too busy with launching her administration to speak with us at this time. To, erm, call back later."

After a very long silence, Xiadani sighed. "I see. Thank you. Could you start another call for me please?" Like most Huenyans, Xiadani was a big baseball fan. She thought of the matter in baseball terms. Strike three, Neina. You're out.

The next group of people Moquihui called would prove to be far more receptive to Xiadani's call. When High General Texōccoatl, Defense Secretary Tlanexchel, and FIS director Cuetlancaona were looped into the video call, Xiadani started the conversation directly. "Something has to be done to put Neina Arana in her proper place."

---

Two hours later, General Huatli of the Huenyan Army sat in a conference room, slightly perplexed.

The General (of former Aurora and civil war fame) had been summoned to Camp Tlalmanang, the headquarters of the Huenyan Special Forces, to meet with Defense Secretary Tlanexchel and High General Texōccoatl. When the other two walked in the room and sat down, Tlanexchel got right to the point. "We are reassigning you. While you've done an excellent job commanding the 34th Army Brigade, we think your talents would suit you to a new role. And a new mission."

Huatli nodded, a skeptical but interested expression crossing her face. "What is the new role?" Texōccoatl presented Huatli with a folder. "Effective immediately, you are to take command of the 1st Chuaztlapoc FSF Brigade."

Huatli gave the two men a look. "You're placing me in charge of a special forces brigade? I'm not part of the special forces." Tlanexchel and Texōccoatl both chuckled. "Given your skill set, we think you're more than qualified. More importantly, they think you're qualified. Their opinion trumps even our own, when it counts."

When Texōccoatl said they, Huatli knew who he meant. The Shorn Ones. The Eagle Warriors. The Jaguar Warriors. They weren't the sort of men and women to take anyone but the best to lead them. "They saw how you sprang into action to help defend Chuaztlapoc during the insurgency. Needless to say, you impressed quite a few of them. So, they want you over there. But you also have to want the job," Texōccoatl said.

Huatli gave Texōccoatl a firm nod. "I don't turn down a mission. Especially one like this."

"Good. We met with you here at Camp Tlalmanang so you could get started with your new brigade immediately," Tlanexchel said. Huatli nodded again. "That would be the new mission to go with the new role, I take it?"

Texōccoatl smirked. "Indeed it is. Tell your men and women to get ready, General. Some of them are going to be paying Milintica a little visit."]]> (Note: These events take place after the 2024 Milintican election).

Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya

President Xiadani was very displeased with Neina Arana.

The leader of Huenya was certainly not unique in that regard. Arana had only been President of Milintica for six days, but millions of Milinticans (MPP backers, mostly) were already very annoyed with the country's new leader. Arana hadn't been doing much to endear herself to leaders in other countries, either. But Huenya had two bones to pick in particular with the new Milintican administration.

The first one involved dozens of Huenyans working for the State Department who had unceremoniously been placed on planes out of the country on October 5th. The Milintican government had not been kidding when they had said election observers would no longer be welcome in the country once the new administration took over. Xiadani did not yet know if election observers from other countries had been forced to leave as well, but she had little doubt she would be receiving aggrieved messages soon enough on that matter.

The fact that Huenyan citizens had been bundled onto planes like luggage and shipped back home without even a heads up to the Huenyan government was actually the second strike, as far as Xiadani was concerned. The first strike had been when two Huenyan officials had been arrested by local police in the town of Aropaonui. Unlike the other Huenyan observers, those two were still in Milintica, in a jail cell. Xiadani was very displeased about that in particular.

It was with that displeasure in mind that Xiadani asked her assistant to place a phone call to Huānoch. Xiadani believed that a conversation between presidents was long overdue.

Xiadani waited for the call to go through. And waited. And waited.

Eventually, her assistant, Moquihui, came back on the line with an apologetic tone to his voice. "Sorry, Madam President, but Haven House has declined to accept your call."

"Declined." Xiadani said the word as if Moquihui had just dropped jaguar dung onto her desk.

Moquihui sighed. "Arana's office said they are too busy with launching her administration to speak with us at this time. To, erm, call back later."

After a very long silence, Xiadani sighed. "I see. Thank you. Could you start another call for me please?" Like most Huenyans, Xiadani was a big baseball fan. She thought of the matter in baseball terms. Strike three, Neina. You're out.

The next group of people Moquihui called would prove to be far more receptive to Xiadani's call. When High General Texōccoatl, Defense Secretary Tlanexchel, and FIS director Cuetlancaona were looped into the video call, Xiadani started the conversation directly. "Something has to be done to put Neina Arana in her proper place."

---

Two hours later, General Huatli of the Huenyan Army sat in a conference room, slightly perplexed.

The General (of former Aurora and civil war fame) had been summoned to Camp Tlalmanang, the headquarters of the Huenyan Special Forces, to meet with Defense Secretary Tlanexchel and High General Texōccoatl. When the other two walked in the room and sat down, Tlanexchel got right to the point. "We are reassigning you. While you've done an excellent job commanding the 34th Army Brigade, we think your talents would suit you to a new role. And a new mission."

Huatli nodded, a skeptical but interested expression crossing her face. "What is the new role?" Texōccoatl presented Huatli with a folder. "Effective immediately, you are to take command of the 1st Chuaztlapoc FSF Brigade."

Huatli gave the two men a look. "You're placing me in charge of a special forces brigade? I'm not part of the special forces." Tlanexchel and Texōccoatl both chuckled. "Given your skill set, we think you're more than qualified. More importantly, they think you're qualified. Their opinion trumps even our own, when it counts."

When Texōccoatl said they, Huatli knew who he meant. The Shorn Ones. The Eagle Warriors. The Jaguar Warriors. They weren't the sort of men and women to take anyone but the best to lead them. "They saw how you sprang into action to help defend Chuaztlapoc during the insurgency. Needless to say, you impressed quite a few of them. So, they want you over there. But you also have to want the job," Texōccoatl said.

Huatli gave Texōccoatl a firm nod. "I don't turn down a mission. Especially one like this."

"Good. We met with you here at Camp Tlalmanang so you could get started with your new brigade immediately," Tlanexchel said. Huatli nodded again. "That would be the new mission to go with the new role, I take it?"

Texōccoatl smirked. "Indeed it is. Tell your men and women to get ready, General. Some of them are going to be paying Milintica a little visit."]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2480 Wed, 04 Sep 2024 01:04:54 -0500 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2480 Act I: Setting the Stage

Peoples' Electoral Commission headquarters
Huānoch, Milintica
September 2nd

Wera Hauraki, Chairman of the Peoples' Electoral Committee, smiled to himself as the cameras shut off. He had just made the announcement to the nation that Neina Arana had won the Milintican presidential elections.

The camera crew from Milintican Peoples' Broadcasting soon finished taking down their equipment and left the Chairman's office, leaving Hauraki alone with his thoughts. The Chairman paused for a moment, then took a small badge from his pocket. He looked at its surface, the lights of his office making the badge shine brightly. The golden star with the rifle, sword and farm tool inlaid into it, surrounded by ruby red, had been his cap badge from his time, decades ago, in the Peoples' Army. It had been the symbol on the Milintican flag for over 90 years, before President Matōchmizalo had changed the national flag and symbols.

Hauraki rather liked the old symbols better.

He smiled once more, before returning the badge to his pocket.

---

Haven House
Huānoch, Milintica
September 2nd

President Matōchmizalo slammed his fist onto his office desk. More than one person in the room flinched at the sound. "How did this happen?" The President shook his head angrily. "Just a few weeks ago, we had a ten point lead in the polls. None of this makes sense. Someone explain to me how Neina-fucking-Arana just won this election!"

Wiremu Witika, the President's campaign manager, grimaced. "She didn't. She couldn't have. I don't understand these results either. They must be rigged. There is no other explanation. We were winning just days ago."

Prime Minister Tupai Tapihana sighed. "That's a very serious charge. We can't accuse Arana or the MCP of rigging this election without evidence."

"But it would have been all too easy to fudge the numbers," Witika stubbornly insisted. "Only 22,843 votes put Arana on top. That's a small enough number to arrange."

"If we do manage to get this result overturned, the first thing we need to do is destroy the Greens and the Progressives." Huia Tahiwi, the First Lady, snapped. "If either of their candidates had just dropped out and endorsed Matōchmizalo as we asked, this election would have been sealed for us."

"That is definitely a plan for later," Matōchmizalo said grimly. "But for now, we need to figure out how to head this madness off." He turned to Hakiri Maurea, Milintica's Attorney General. "I need you to get with Wiremu and our legal team to figure out exactly how to play this with the Supreme Tribunal. Get the NDIP and the National Police on this too. If there is even a shred of proof that Arana rigged this, I want it found yesterday."

"Even if they don't find proof, just make some up!" Witika gesticulated wildly. Tapihana glared at the campaign manager, his brow furrowed. "I will not participate in any trickery like that!"

"Damnit, Tupai, now is not the time to play nice!" Tahiwi pointed her finger at Tapihana. "We cannot let Arana become President! She will destroy this country! Now is the time to do whatever it takes to keep her from ever sitting in this office! Put a bullet in her brain if we have to, even. But she cannot take power. She simply cannot."

Tapihana's face reddened as he stood up. "You are crossing a line, madam First Lady. Do you want to become what you hate most?"

"Sit down, Tupai. Please,"  Matōchmizalo said. Tapihana sat down after a moment of hesitation, still glaring at Witika and Tahiwi.

"We don't need to ponder such dramatic solutions...just yet, anyway. But we do need to keep Neina from taking power. She will destroy Milintica, truly. But we can prevent that." The President turned to the one person in the room who hadn't yet spoken.

Teuitzi, the Supreme General of the Peoples' Army, sighed. "You're not seriously asking me to launch a coup on your behalf, are you, sir?"

"It would not be a coup. Neina Arana is not President right now. I am." Matōchmizalo looked at Teuitzi expectantly. "You swore an oath to protect Milintica from any enemies, including domestic ones. Neina Arana is a domestic enemy of this state. Will you do your job?"

"It is not my job to overturn an election. Nor is it the role of the Peoples' Army to do so. Your order to do so, if given, would be an illegal order and I would be honor bound to refuse it," Teuitzi replied firmly.

"Then resign! Either that, or we discharge you and find someone who will!" Tahiwi glared daggers at the General, who returned the glare blandly. "If you believe any of the officers below me would go along with that, madam First Lady, or that the soldiers under their command would obey, you are welcome to try."

"Enough, enough," Matōchmizalo said wearily. "It would appear that the only option, then, is to rely on the case that we present to the Supreme Tribunal and hope that it succeeds. But either way, I am not stepping down. I am not handing the most powerful position in this country to Arana. If that means your soldiers end up having to come drag me out of this office in a month, General, so be it. But I hope you can live with that decision, and what it may mean to Milintica's future."

---

Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya
September 3rd

President Xiadani steepled her fingers as she looked at her Cabinet. "This is obviously an unacceptable outcome. Options?"

Secretary of State Huitzilhuani went first. "Our election observers are still in Milintica, and trying to determine if Arana did actually win the election. But their electoral committee is refusing to cooperate with the observers. Their Chairman, Hauraki, has barred us from all PEC offices. The MCP is likewise refusing us access to their offices."

"I do believe I said that any hindering of our observers would merit a response," Xiadani said coolly. "Send a letter to the Electoral Committee and to the MCP headquarters as well. Inform them that the Huenyan Federation, which is still currently an ally of Milintica, requests cooperation in our observations. If that cooperation is not forthcoming, make sure they are aware that we reserve the right to investigate this election by any means necessary, whether or not they cooperate."

Xiadani turned to the Secretaries of Trade and Defense next. "Inform all relevant Milintican parties that any trade and defense cooperation between Milintica and Huenya is contingent on the Milintican state remaining in the UCS, and also contingent on existing agreements between our states being honored regardless of who is President or what party is running their country. If those expectations are not met, make sure they are fully aware that Huenya will no longer feel bound to fulfill our commitments to Milintica. Especially the commitment that we would defend Milintica if someone like, say, Calhualyana decides to make Milintica her summer home."

The President then turned to Huenya's High General. "I assume you are already formulating plans for a more...robust response should one be needed."

Texōccoatl grinned at her statement. "Oh, yeah. I would not put it past Arana, if she does take power, to take her anger at us for not supporting her out on any Huenyans who may be still in Milintica once the transition occurs. If she does go there, our soldiers will be ready to respond. It would probably be wise to update our current travel advisory to discourage travel to Milintica and encourage any Huenyan nationals there to come home," he added to Huitzilhuani, who nodded. Texōccoatl looked over at Trade Secretary Yaochtzin. "If Arana tries anything typically communist like seizing or nationalizing Huenyan assets or property in Milintica, we'll be ready to deal with that as well."

"We will need to have a chat with the Eirians before doing anything too forceful," Xiadani said after a moment. "If Milintica does leave the UCS, our two countries will be all that's left. We also really need to see if Manabí Rive wants to revive their bid for UCS membership, and to hell with the Empire if it bothers them." The President tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I really don't want to have to become hostile towards the Milinticans. The descendants of Huenyans there are our kin, after all. And the Paora surely didn't ask for this either. But if Arana does manage to become president there....nothing is off the table."

---

Palace of Flowers
Tlālacuetztla, Xiomera
September 3rd

After the results of the Milintican elections were announced, Empress Calhualyana was having a leisurely meeting with her Prime Minister and the director of Imperial Intelligence in her favorite gardens. "Our operations to influence the Milintican elections appear to have succeeded beyond our wildest dreams," Director Telchiuhtli said. "I thought it would be tougher to get someone as unlikeable and nutty as Neina Arana elected. But the hardcore wing of the MPP was already primed to switch allegiances to the MCP once Matōchmizalo went with his reforms. Arana and her supporters proved very suggestible in the end."

"It is always pleasant to bring disruption and chaos to our enemies," the Empress replied as she sipped a glass of tepiātl. "Matōchmizalo won't concede. Arana will probably use force to get him out. The MPP and MCP will remain at each others' throats. And Arana is highly likely to continue to be suggestible, and blunder herself into a perfect casus belli for us to end the pesky annoyance that is Milintica once and for all. I so love useful idiots. Whether you're an intelligence agent or an Empress, they do make your job easier," Calhualyana mused, earning a laugh from Telchiuhtli.

"When Arana pulls the trigger over Chenalco, I think I'll build some nice condos on the beach in Huānoch once we take over," Prime Minister Toquihu grinned. "The Milinticans never figured out how to make their little islands turn a profit. A Xiomeran is the ideal person to show them how it's done."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the Empress chided gently. "We need to make sure Arana gets installed as president first and that Matōchmizalo doesn't find some way to keep her from taking power. We also need to keep the temperature up between the MCP and MPP. Some deepfakes on social media about horrible things that the MPP and MCP are doing to each other's activists should keep the pot stirred nicely. Along with our ongoing 'helpful information' about the election being 'stolen', of course."

Telchiuhtli nodded, sipping his own glass. "Imperial Intelligence is more than capable of keeping things hot in Milintica. We'll even enjoy it."

The three of them clinked their glasses, enjoying the Xiomeran sun.]]> Act I: Setting the Stage

Peoples' Electoral Commission headquarters
Huānoch, Milintica
September 2nd

Wera Hauraki, Chairman of the Peoples' Electoral Committee, smiled to himself as the cameras shut off. He had just made the announcement to the nation that Neina Arana had won the Milintican presidential elections.

The camera crew from Milintican Peoples' Broadcasting soon finished taking down their equipment and left the Chairman's office, leaving Hauraki alone with his thoughts. The Chairman paused for a moment, then took a small badge from his pocket. He looked at its surface, the lights of his office making the badge shine brightly. The golden star with the rifle, sword and farm tool inlaid into it, surrounded by ruby red, had been his cap badge from his time, decades ago, in the Peoples' Army. It had been the symbol on the Milintican flag for over 90 years, before President Matōchmizalo had changed the national flag and symbols.

Hauraki rather liked the old symbols better.

He smiled once more, before returning the badge to his pocket.

---

Haven House
Huānoch, Milintica
September 2nd

President Matōchmizalo slammed his fist onto his office desk. More than one person in the room flinched at the sound. "How did this happen?" The President shook his head angrily. "Just a few weeks ago, we had a ten point lead in the polls. None of this makes sense. Someone explain to me how Neina-fucking-Arana just won this election!"

Wiremu Witika, the President's campaign manager, grimaced. "She didn't. She couldn't have. I don't understand these results either. They must be rigged. There is no other explanation. We were winning just days ago."

Prime Minister Tupai Tapihana sighed. "That's a very serious charge. We can't accuse Arana or the MCP of rigging this election without evidence."

"But it would have been all too easy to fudge the numbers," Witika stubbornly insisted. "Only 22,843 votes put Arana on top. That's a small enough number to arrange."

"If we do manage to get this result overturned, the first thing we need to do is destroy the Greens and the Progressives." Huia Tahiwi, the First Lady, snapped. "If either of their candidates had just dropped out and endorsed Matōchmizalo as we asked, this election would have been sealed for us."

"That is definitely a plan for later," Matōchmizalo said grimly. "But for now, we need to figure out how to head this madness off." He turned to Hakiri Maurea, Milintica's Attorney General. "I need you to get with Wiremu and our legal team to figure out exactly how to play this with the Supreme Tribunal. Get the NDIP and the National Police on this too. If there is even a shred of proof that Arana rigged this, I want it found yesterday."

"Even if they don't find proof, just make some up!" Witika gesticulated wildly. Tapihana glared at the campaign manager, his brow furrowed. "I will not participate in any trickery like that!"

"Damnit, Tupai, now is not the time to play nice!" Tahiwi pointed her finger at Tapihana. "We cannot let Arana become President! She will destroy this country! Now is the time to do whatever it takes to keep her from ever sitting in this office! Put a bullet in her brain if we have to, even. But she cannot take power. She simply cannot."

Tapihana's face reddened as he stood up. "You are crossing a line, madam First Lady. Do you want to become what you hate most?"

"Sit down, Tupai. Please,"  Matōchmizalo said. Tapihana sat down after a moment of hesitation, still glaring at Witika and Tahiwi.

"We don't need to ponder such dramatic solutions...just yet, anyway. But we do need to keep Neina from taking power. She will destroy Milintica, truly. But we can prevent that." The President turned to the one person in the room who hadn't yet spoken.

Teuitzi, the Supreme General of the Peoples' Army, sighed. "You're not seriously asking me to launch a coup on your behalf, are you, sir?"

"It would not be a coup. Neina Arana is not President right now. I am." Matōchmizalo looked at Teuitzi expectantly. "You swore an oath to protect Milintica from any enemies, including domestic ones. Neina Arana is a domestic enemy of this state. Will you do your job?"

"It is not my job to overturn an election. Nor is it the role of the Peoples' Army to do so. Your order to do so, if given, would be an illegal order and I would be honor bound to refuse it," Teuitzi replied firmly.

"Then resign! Either that, or we discharge you and find someone who will!" Tahiwi glared daggers at the General, who returned the glare blandly. "If you believe any of the officers below me would go along with that, madam First Lady, or that the soldiers under their command would obey, you are welcome to try."

"Enough, enough," Matōchmizalo said wearily. "It would appear that the only option, then, is to rely on the case that we present to the Supreme Tribunal and hope that it succeeds. But either way, I am not stepping down. I am not handing the most powerful position in this country to Arana. If that means your soldiers end up having to come drag me out of this office in a month, General, so be it. But I hope you can live with that decision, and what it may mean to Milintica's future."

---

Tecpancalli Tonaltzintli
Chuaztlapoc, Huenya
September 3rd

President Xiadani steepled her fingers as she looked at her Cabinet. "This is obviously an unacceptable outcome. Options?"

Secretary of State Huitzilhuani went first. "Our election observers are still in Milintica, and trying to determine if Arana did actually win the election. But their electoral committee is refusing to cooperate with the observers. Their Chairman, Hauraki, has barred us from all PEC offices. The MCP is likewise refusing us access to their offices."

"I do believe I said that any hindering of our observers would merit a response," Xiadani said coolly. "Send a letter to the Electoral Committee and to the MCP headquarters as well. Inform them that the Huenyan Federation, which is still currently an ally of Milintica, requests cooperation in our observations. If that cooperation is not forthcoming, make sure they are aware that we reserve the right to investigate this election by any means necessary, whether or not they cooperate."

Xiadani turned to the Secretaries of Trade and Defense next. "Inform all relevant Milintican parties that any trade and defense cooperation between Milintica and Huenya is contingent on the Milintican state remaining in the UCS, and also contingent on existing agreements between our states being honored regardless of who is President or what party is running their country. If those expectations are not met, make sure they are fully aware that Huenya will no longer feel bound to fulfill our commitments to Milintica. Especially the commitment that we would defend Milintica if someone like, say, Calhualyana decides to make Milintica her summer home."

The President then turned to Huenya's High General. "I assume you are already formulating plans for a more...robust response should one be needed."

Texōccoatl grinned at her statement. "Oh, yeah. I would not put it past Arana, if she does take power, to take her anger at us for not supporting her out on any Huenyans who may be still in Milintica once the transition occurs. If she does go there, our soldiers will be ready to respond. It would probably be wise to update our current travel advisory to discourage travel to Milintica and encourage any Huenyan nationals there to come home," he added to Huitzilhuani, who nodded. Texōccoatl looked over at Trade Secretary Yaochtzin. "If Arana tries anything typically communist like seizing or nationalizing Huenyan assets or property in Milintica, we'll be ready to deal with that as well."

"We will need to have a chat with the Eirians before doing anything too forceful," Xiadani said after a moment. "If Milintica does leave the UCS, our two countries will be all that's left. We also really need to see if Manabí Rive wants to revive their bid for UCS membership, and to hell with the Empire if it bothers them." The President tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. "I really don't want to have to become hostile towards the Milinticans. The descendants of Huenyans there are our kin, after all. And the Paora surely didn't ask for this either. But if Arana does manage to become president there....nothing is off the table."

---

Palace of Flowers
Tlālacuetztla, Xiomera
September 3rd

After the results of the Milintican elections were announced, Empress Calhualyana was having a leisurely meeting with her Prime Minister and the director of Imperial Intelligence in her favorite gardens. "Our operations to influence the Milintican elections appear to have succeeded beyond our wildest dreams," Director Telchiuhtli said. "I thought it would be tougher to get someone as unlikeable and nutty as Neina Arana elected. But the hardcore wing of the MPP was already primed to switch allegiances to the MCP once Matōchmizalo went with his reforms. Arana and her supporters proved very suggestible in the end."

"It is always pleasant to bring disruption and chaos to our enemies," the Empress replied as she sipped a glass of tepiātl. "Matōchmizalo won't concede. Arana will probably use force to get him out. The MPP and MCP will remain at each others' throats. And Arana is highly likely to continue to be suggestible, and blunder herself into a perfect casus belli for us to end the pesky annoyance that is Milintica once and for all. I so love useful idiots. Whether you're an intelligence agent or an Empress, they do make your job easier," Calhualyana mused, earning a laugh from Telchiuhtli.

"When Arana pulls the trigger over Chenalco, I think I'll build some nice condos on the beach in Huānoch once we take over," Prime Minister Toquihu grinned. "The Milinticans never figured out how to make their little islands turn a profit. A Xiomeran is the ideal person to show them how it's done."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the Empress chided gently. "We need to make sure Arana gets installed as president first and that Matōchmizalo doesn't find some way to keep her from taking power. We also need to keep the temperature up between the MCP and MPP. Some deepfakes on social media about horrible things that the MPP and MCP are doing to each other's activists should keep the pot stirred nicely. Along with our ongoing 'helpful information' about the election being 'stolen', of course."

Telchiuhtli nodded, sipping his own glass. "Imperial Intelligence is more than capable of keeping things hot in Milintica. We'll even enjoy it."

The three of them clinked their glasses, enjoying the Xiomeran sun.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2475 Sun, 11 Aug 2024 15:47:11 -0500 Democratic Republic Of Eiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2475 New Riga, District 16
August 10, 2024, 9:54 PM

The soft pitter-patter of the rain nearly drowned out the sound of the woman in gray’s boots on the asphalt of the street. In this part of the Eirian port city, many of the shops had already closed down for the day, with just the occasional restaurant or convenience store still having their lights on. Not very many people were walking on the sidewalks, given the weather and the area’s distance from the nearest subway station. For some, that would make the street feel eerie or disconcerting. For others, these circumstances were perfect.

As the road began to slant downward towards the coastline, the woman ducked down an alleyway, counting the number of dirty doorways until she reached the one she sought. Pushing the door open slowly, she followed a cramped and dingy set of stairs down a couple flights before arriving at a significantly cleaner and more sturdy door. Some mild noises echoed from beyond the door, but the stairwell was still mostly silent.

Knock knock. The sound of her knuckles wrapping on the door reverberated through the stairwell. A grate on the door slid open, letting a neutral voice pass through. “Kēa eris?”

“A person who has words for the Lighthouse.”

After a few seconds, the door swung open, allowing the woman to pass through between a pair of armed guards. The basement of this dingy building had been transformed into a lively bar and casino, with finely-dressed patrons moving from table to table with a subtle grace. The woman in gray made her way over to the bar, where a bartender in a Prōtint-inspired mask moved down to take her order in a flash.

“Just a UpZert for me to start, thank you,” she said, examining the crowd behind her as the bartender opened a can and poured a purple soda into a glass.

“What color flag would you like?” The bartender asked, his mask not fully disguising his piercing gaze as he asked the seemingly innocuous question.

“Red, please.” In spite of the mask, the woman could feel the bartender raise his eyebrows at her reply. He did not make any comments, however, as he put a miniature red flag on a toothpick into her glass and went to attend to other patrons. The woman turned around, taking her own eye mask out from her pocket and putting it on. She held her drink further out in front of her, making sure it could be seen from all sides of the room.

It did not take long for a larger gentleman in a black suit to make his way to the bar, taking the open chair next to her. His mask was more simple than hers or the bartender’s, yet more ominous. “How may I help you?”

The woman gritted her teeth slightly, running her eyes up and down the man’s outfit to note the subtle decorations on his suit. “Where is the Lighthouse? I only do business with the Lighthouse or his two direct lieutenants, not contractors or family members. It makes things cleaner.”

The masked man grunted. “The Lighthouse has business elsewhere, and his lieutenants rarely waste time on customers who walk in without appointments. Now, shall we talk?”

“I’m sorry that I’m wasting your time, then.” The woman turned her body back to the bar, pointedly ignoring him. After what seemed like a minute, the man sighed and left, causing the woman to hold her breath a bit. Come on…

A few minutes passed before a taller woman in a similar suit and mask to the previous gentleman walked over to the bar, quickly making her way towards the woman in gray. “You didn’t have to be rude to my staff to get my attention, you know. You can just tell them that you have a personal delivery for me or the boss, and they’ll trust it.”

“Perhaps, but my way is more fun,” the seated woman replied with a slight smirk. “Besides, he should know me by now.”

“You underestimate how many guests pass through our doors, Lira. Plus, you do not come here for weeks or months at a time. I work with unpredictable informants quite often, but you are truly the most flighty of them all.” The tall woman adjusted the cufflinks on her suit, which were bronze and shaped like miniature lighthouses.”Why are you back, Lira?”

“Lira” took a sip of her drink. “The Ministry of Justice has taken quite an interest in the watchers again. I know for a fact that there are numerous undercover agents here, in Geminus, Serenity, and other areas. They’re posing as customers and informants, trying to take down entire clusters of Watchers. Warrants are already processing for three prominent Watchers and their associates in our city alone. A power vacuum is on the horizon, and if you are not careful, you and your boss will end up swept away in the chaos.”

“And you can help us avoid this fate, hm? I’ve heard rumors of agents poking around the financial side of the business, but nothing like what you describe. How do I know that you are not lying to me for a quick cash grab?”

Lira took out an envelope and placed it on the table, keeping it within her reach. “These are the personnel files of five of the government agents operating on this side of the city who would pose the most threat to you right now. I’ll give you this alone for twenty-five, but given my position, I can work on disrupting their investigation myself. For the right price, of course. I’ll let you talk to the Lighthouse about that payment.”

This reply evidently both intrigued and annoyed the taller woman, who looked at the envelope for a few moments before replying. “I understand that your price is final, as always?” After receiving a nod, she sighed. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

The woman disappeared in the crowd for a couple minutes before returning, a silver key in her hand. “Show me them first.”

Lira opened the envelope, spreading the papers out so the Lighthouse’s lieutenant could get enough of a look to confirm that the deal was fair. Once she had done that, the taller woman dropped the key on the bar. “Safety deposit box two-eight-six, Renou Bank, Twelfth District. Wait two days before retrieving it.” The lieutenant also placed an old phone on the bar. “We will be in touch with further instructions.”

After the woman in gray watched the other woman walk towards the casino, she downed her drink, placed a Lunen note on the bar, and then made her way towards the exit. After all, she had work to do now. The government’s meddling may now have given her an extra job, but she would need to act quickly, lest she hop on board of a sinking ship.

And in the port city of New Riga, sinking ships were soon to be much more common…]]> New Riga, District 16
August 10, 2024, 9:54 PM

The soft pitter-patter of the rain nearly drowned out the sound of the woman in gray’s boots on the asphalt of the street. In this part of the Eirian port city, many of the shops had already closed down for the day, with just the occasional restaurant or convenience store still having their lights on. Not very many people were walking on the sidewalks, given the weather and the area’s distance from the nearest subway station. For some, that would make the street feel eerie or disconcerting. For others, these circumstances were perfect.

As the road began to slant downward towards the coastline, the woman ducked down an alleyway, counting the number of dirty doorways until she reached the one she sought. Pushing the door open slowly, she followed a cramped and dingy set of stairs down a couple flights before arriving at a significantly cleaner and more sturdy door. Some mild noises echoed from beyond the door, but the stairwell was still mostly silent.

Knock knock. The sound of her knuckles wrapping on the door reverberated through the stairwell. A grate on the door slid open, letting a neutral voice pass through. “Kēa eris?”

“A person who has words for the Lighthouse.”

After a few seconds, the door swung open, allowing the woman to pass through between a pair of armed guards. The basement of this dingy building had been transformed into a lively bar and casino, with finely-dressed patrons moving from table to table with a subtle grace. The woman in gray made her way over to the bar, where a bartender in a Prōtint-inspired mask moved down to take her order in a flash.

“Just a UpZert for me to start, thank you,” she said, examining the crowd behind her as the bartender opened a can and poured a purple soda into a glass.

“What color flag would you like?” The bartender asked, his mask not fully disguising his piercing gaze as he asked the seemingly innocuous question.

“Red, please.” In spite of the mask, the woman could feel the bartender raise his eyebrows at her reply. He did not make any comments, however, as he put a miniature red flag on a toothpick into her glass and went to attend to other patrons. The woman turned around, taking her own eye mask out from her pocket and putting it on. She held her drink further out in front of her, making sure it could be seen from all sides of the room.

It did not take long for a larger gentleman in a black suit to make his way to the bar, taking the open chair next to her. His mask was more simple than hers or the bartender’s, yet more ominous. “How may I help you?”

The woman gritted her teeth slightly, running her eyes up and down the man’s outfit to note the subtle decorations on his suit. “Where is the Lighthouse? I only do business with the Lighthouse or his two direct lieutenants, not contractors or family members. It makes things cleaner.”

The masked man grunted. “The Lighthouse has business elsewhere, and his lieutenants rarely waste time on customers who walk in without appointments. Now, shall we talk?”

“I’m sorry that I’m wasting your time, then.” The woman turned her body back to the bar, pointedly ignoring him. After what seemed like a minute, the man sighed and left, causing the woman to hold her breath a bit. Come on…

A few minutes passed before a taller woman in a similar suit and mask to the previous gentleman walked over to the bar, quickly making her way towards the woman in gray. “You didn’t have to be rude to my staff to get my attention, you know. You can just tell them that you have a personal delivery for me or the boss, and they’ll trust it.”

“Perhaps, but my way is more fun,” the seated woman replied with a slight smirk. “Besides, he should know me by now.”

“You underestimate how many guests pass through our doors, Lira. Plus, you do not come here for weeks or months at a time. I work with unpredictable informants quite often, but you are truly the most flighty of them all.” The tall woman adjusted the cufflinks on her suit, which were bronze and shaped like miniature lighthouses.”Why are you back, Lira?”

“Lira” took a sip of her drink. “The Ministry of Justice has taken quite an interest in the watchers again. I know for a fact that there are numerous undercover agents here, in Geminus, Serenity, and other areas. They’re posing as customers and informants, trying to take down entire clusters of Watchers. Warrants are already processing for three prominent Watchers and their associates in our city alone. A power vacuum is on the horizon, and if you are not careful, you and your boss will end up swept away in the chaos.”

“And you can help us avoid this fate, hm? I’ve heard rumors of agents poking around the financial side of the business, but nothing like what you describe. How do I know that you are not lying to me for a quick cash grab?”

Lira took out an envelope and placed it on the table, keeping it within her reach. “These are the personnel files of five of the government agents operating on this side of the city who would pose the most threat to you right now. I’ll give you this alone for twenty-five, but given my position, I can work on disrupting their investigation myself. For the right price, of course. I’ll let you talk to the Lighthouse about that payment.”

This reply evidently both intrigued and annoyed the taller woman, who looked at the envelope for a few moments before replying. “I understand that your price is final, as always?” After receiving a nod, she sighed. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”

The woman disappeared in the crowd for a couple minutes before returning, a silver key in her hand. “Show me them first.”

Lira opened the envelope, spreading the papers out so the Lighthouse’s lieutenant could get enough of a look to confirm that the deal was fair. Once she had done that, the taller woman dropped the key on the bar. “Safety deposit box two-eight-six, Renou Bank, Twelfth District. Wait two days before retrieving it.” The lieutenant also placed an old phone on the bar. “We will be in touch with further instructions.”

After the woman in gray watched the other woman walk towards the casino, she downed her drink, placed a Lunen note on the bar, and then made her way towards the exit. After all, she had work to do now. The government’s meddling may now have given her an extra job, but she would need to act quickly, lest she hop on board of a sinking ship.

And in the port city of New Riga, sinking ships were soon to be much more common…]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2470 Sun, 07 Apr 2024 17:57:23 -0500 Slokais]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2470
The Bernonas were nice people, good peace peace-loving Catholics who were the envy of every priest and highway billboard. Unable to have children of their own, the Bernonas were convinced by their congregation to utilize an adaptation agency called World Family Connection. Across the ocean in Kolda, a young Mbaye was selected from an orphanage and brought by WFC to the care of the Bernonas in suburban Newton, South Princeton. The Bernonas then named Mbaye, Elizabeth after her new adoptive grandmother. From the start, Elizabeth’s parents were very open about who she was. When she asked why she looked different from her parent they took her to meet with an employee of World Family Connection who explained in terms a child could understand. In middle school, she joined a group at her Church called “World Culture Hour” This was a group of fellow adoptees that had also been adopted through WFC. The group aged from newborns to teenagers and was led by the head prest’s wife, who asked everyone to call her Miss Mary. Mary helped the group who often dealt with confusion and faced bullying in school. To Elizabeth, Miss Mary was a trusted adult who could always be relied on. The court called it international smuggling and human trafficking although in Elizabeth’s case, the real perpetrators were the Koldan government who in the 90s and 2000s took the children of poor rural mothers in exchange for money. Elizabeth also received around $70,000 in a settlement with WFC, with both Miss Mary and her husband being removed from the congregation in their attempts to cover up the organization’s wrongdoings.

Now, Mbaye was home or at least she hoped she was. After the 2011 Coup, Ministry of Health records became available including one that listed “Mbaye Ada Diallo” as being under the care of the World Family Connection of Guiedawaye orphanage during 1997. From there, Mbaye began calling the names of related records spending hours in high school searching Koldan government websites. Mbaye even switched from Slokasian to French as her secondary language class to help her read the websites. It took her many more years but finally, she found a document that listed her being a hospital patient in the small town of Diawara. Mbaye then spent the rest of her settlement money to quit her job in tech and book a flight to Kolda.

Diawara didn't look like much of anything, scattered brick and stone houses with several animals running around. A small church towered over the town, however just by the entrance to the town was a boulangerie called Prison Mart. Although the name suggested low quality, the interior was relatively clean. In fact, Mbaye assumed the name came from the fact this was a colonial prison. Each cell was now a different department, meat’s, bread, and even a cheap cellphone store. Mbaye didn’t have a plan for how exactly she would find her family, just a name, and a will to finally discover her true family.]]>
The Bernonas were nice people, good peace peace-loving Catholics who were the envy of every priest and highway billboard. Unable to have children of their own, the Bernonas were convinced by their congregation to utilize an adaptation agency called World Family Connection. Across the ocean in Kolda, a young Mbaye was selected from an orphanage and brought by WFC to the care of the Bernonas in suburban Newton, South Princeton. The Bernonas then named Mbaye, Elizabeth after her new adoptive grandmother. From the start, Elizabeth’s parents were very open about who she was. When she asked why she looked different from her parent they took her to meet with an employee of World Family Connection who explained in terms a child could understand. In middle school, she joined a group at her Church called “World Culture Hour” This was a group of fellow adoptees that had also been adopted through WFC. The group aged from newborns to teenagers and was led by the head prest’s wife, who asked everyone to call her Miss Mary. Mary helped the group who often dealt with confusion and faced bullying in school. To Elizabeth, Miss Mary was a trusted adult who could always be relied on. The court called it international smuggling and human trafficking although in Elizabeth’s case, the real perpetrators were the Koldan government who in the 90s and 2000s took the children of poor rural mothers in exchange for money. Elizabeth also received around $70,000 in a settlement with WFC, with both Miss Mary and her husband being removed from the congregation in their attempts to cover up the organization’s wrongdoings.

Now, Mbaye was home or at least she hoped she was. After the 2011 Coup, Ministry of Health records became available including one that listed “Mbaye Ada Diallo” as being under the care of the World Family Connection of Guiedawaye orphanage during 1997. From there, Mbaye began calling the names of related records spending hours in high school searching Koldan government websites. Mbaye even switched from Slokasian to French as her secondary language class to help her read the websites. It took her many more years but finally, she found a document that listed her being a hospital patient in the small town of Diawara. Mbaye then spent the rest of her settlement money to quit her job in tech and book a flight to Kolda.

Diawara didn't look like much of anything, scattered brick and stone houses with several animals running around. A small church towered over the town, however just by the entrance to the town was a boulangerie called Prison Mart. Although the name suggested low quality, the interior was relatively clean. In fact, Mbaye assumed the name came from the fact this was a colonial prison. Each cell was now a different department, meat’s, bread, and even a cheap cellphone store. Mbaye didn’t have a plan for how exactly she would find her family, just a name, and a will to finally discover her true family.]]>