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Yen Shen Yumu
(990-1060)

The Shen Yumu Clan was one of the most influential among the Proto-Minjian Kingdoms of the Classical Period. Its wealth was regarded as one of the greatest, as its roots extend to the Tian Dynasty in present-day Laeral. Yet Shen Yumu came in as an outsider. Born in present-day Laeral to the second wife of Cheng Shen Yimu, Yen had a relatively pleasant early childhood per his accounts. Yet, everything changed when the Tian Dynasty which had been weakening for years fell into collapse. Cheng took mercy on his second son, as his older son born to another mother was failing to be effective on the battlefield.

Around 1002 or 1003, Youfu was put on a boat carrying many Minjian faithful to the promised lands of Pindai or “Blessed Place”. The city of Pindai would not be founded for several more decades, yet local leaders were encouraging migration to the region as part of the “War of Faith” which had begun several decades prior as an internal conflict within the Janghara State between Minjian and Animist forces. Cheng Shen Yimu was at the time, in command of the Pact of the Aligned, a collection of Minjian families and city states. He was growing older and sensed a successor was needed.

At that point, Cheng Shen Yumu had made Jianhua the seat of his power, and Yenwas brought there on a great-carriage escorted by an assortment of troops, dancers and members of court. Jianhua, which remains to this day in Pinjiang Province, was considered one of the great cities of the day.  Such an important moment was the arrival of Yen Shen Yumu, that the moment was depicted in several pieces of artwork such as “The Arrival” by Jiong Chen Wu, on permanent display at the National Gallery of Slokais. To the surprise of Cheng, Yen did not seek power or violence against the Animists as he hoped, or a sense of leadership to his people. Rather, Youfu spoke of reasoning and peaceful conversion of the people of these kingdoms to the Minjian Faith. This shocked the militarist, Cheng who decided that his second son wasn’t a warrior-heir but rather should be kept away as a greater thinker or advisor to him. He would have to find his successor elsewhere.

So it was up into the high mountains, carrying his belongings behind him with nothing but a map and a name. He found it, the Temple of the Divine Pursuit and its then caretakers the Brightnesses. Yen thus began his educational and spiritual journey, tuning out the war going on outside the walls and learning from his teachers. By the time news reached the mountains that Cheng Shen Yimu had passed away, his second son had consumed all there was to know within the temple’s collection of books. Yofu was offered the position of regent to his older brother, yet he rejected it.

“I shall only be a warrior to divine, only a swordsman to the divine kingdom and only a commander of the righteous faith”

Yen then began writing the first of his more than a dozen books he would publish in his lifetime, Tribulations. In the book, he would set out the ideals of a unique branch of the Minjian Faith, later known as Yenguango. Yenguango believes in a singular, dual-natured deity known as the Divine which encompasses the Host and Lady commonly believed as two separate divine beings. In addition, Yen disagreed with the notion that divine intervention was impossible, rather it could only occur in certain places at certain times. Additionally, Yen and the followers of Yenguango took a vow of veganism and abstinence from sex before marriage. Yenguango also argued Minjian’s should follow the pursuit of understanding the universe as scientists, educators or explorers. This is best encompassed by his most famous of quotes from his book “Life in Service of the Divine”

“The greatest joys of life come from the discovery of the Divine’s marks upon creation, the clouds in the sky, the animals on the ground, the rivers of the land. Yet is not a joy just upon the man which has discovered it but a joy upon those who come to see it within their time. It is glorious and a reminder of the Divine’s grace”

Yen would end up writing several academic papers on topics such as the water cycle, erosion and weather movements. He reached many of these discoveries at his various observation huts which were built by him and a growing number of disciples. Each consisted of a central octagonal chamber with an open circular roof and a central water pond. Attached was at the very least one room for sleep and prayer and another for storing materials necessary for writing and reading existing texts. Since his death in 1060, the Society of Yenguango has quietly maintained and studied at each of these sites which range in size. Visiting each of the 9 huts in succession is seen as a popular method of spiritualism and retreat to many Minjian in Slokais, even if some of his concepts are not accepted in the mainstream Minjian Faith.

During his later life, Yen would be called upon by his nephew Yofu Shen Yimu to establish the various bureaus of science and education of the Pindai State with many of these institutions taking upon his name. Scientists of the Pindai State, would end up having to take an oath of Yenguango for several centuries and his works on the nature of the universe would become required reading for any high reaching civil servant of the state. Today at Covenant University, the most important Minjian institution in Slokais, students who study in social sciences, medicine or engineering are required to take classes in the teaching of Yen Shen Yumu. Including President Joseph Zhang, who honored him with a special-edition 10,000 Mark note in 2019 due to his scientific contributions to geography, geology and philosophy. Politician, Spartcus Jones took upon the oath of abstinence and veganism before starting his Revolt! political party based on his reading of Yen’s works.

Juan De Garza
(1773-1839)

A poet, pastor and activist, Juan De Garza shouldn’t have never made it. Born in a fishing village in modern-day Kolda he lived the first years of his life in relative peace. But then in his own words “I was robbed of the innocence of childhood, the pride of freedom and the times of our youth by the cruelty of mankind”. De Garza who did not remember his name, only his mother’s face was enslaved and sent to Slokais via the Costeno Empire’s slave trading network.

At the time, the demands for labor in the new San Fernando colony called some to venture to Kolda to establish a slave trading network. People captured in war within the interior were brought to an island in Guedeiawaye Harbor, before ships would take the month’s long journey across the Olympic Ocean. By the time Juan De Garza came into the system, it was in its twilight years. War’s and conflict had ruined the finances of the traders and changed demand for labor from enslaved Koldans to indigenous Slokasians. De Garza describes a “great place of despair, I did not know much as I was just barely 3 or 4 years old, yet I knew evil was around, the devil’s worst creatures”. Referring to the San Fernando Slave Market on modern-day City Island, De Garza was in-fact one of the last people documented to have traveled through, as the transport and sale of slaves was banned by the municipal government in 1778. Yet, it didn’t mean De Garza was free. He and his siblings, yet not his mother, were bought by the Castillo family, an auctioneering family who owned a market in the Kingsway and a large plantation out in the swamp land of Salvador. Slavery was officially banned in the city, meaning persons living within could not be enslaved by another living within. Yet it thrived in Salvador City, De Garza who was given the surname Castillo was made to work as a rice farmer.

The swampland was cruel, walking in still water under a hot baking sun. Gathering the rice and then hauling huge baskets a mile or more to the Castillo’s rice storage building. De Garza lived this life until around 1790 when he was transferred to the auction house in San Fernando. Damien Castillo, needed extra hands around the office and Juan was praised as a hard worker, an example. De Garza described this in his 1815 book “Memories of the Stolen” as “I was cooled down, like a hot fire soaked by water. My words became cool, my behavior like hot coals. Calm and lacking heat from a distance yet still carrying the same heat”. It was through the auction house that De Garza learned to read Spanish so he could read directions. Damien assumed he lacked any more will, and could only understand and read words related to his company. Yet for Juan, his mind had been opened.

He eventually devised a plan, he began to talk with a woman named Ceila DeGarza, a Mestizo of Koldan ancestry. The two released that if they married officially, Juan would become a citizen and Ceila a widow would be able to restore her rights as a married person. Although the two lacked in love, with both later describing their relationship as “purely transactional” they were married in 1792, with Juan confirming his freedom on June 8th, 1792 in the records of the San Fernando Municipal Clerk. The two never had children of their own, although they adopted several over the course of their lives. Seeking employment, Juan began working as a deliveryman building connections within San Fernando. Through this work he was exposed to many people including many in the growing Afro-Slokaisan community (although they went by the term Nerienos at the time).

By 1800, the push to end slavery across the San Fernando Colony was becoming widespread. DeGarza, seeking to promote legislation, began a campaign of poems and writings which he personally distributed. Within his first pamphlet “Cases for a Society without Slavery”, DeGarza responded to common arguments for slavery’s continued usage using religious, economic and personal arguments. The success of the pamphlet led to several speaking engagements which grew popular support for abolishing slavery. While the slave trade had ended there remained 100,000 people classified as “enslaved person’s” by the 1805 Census. His events eventually brought him in contact with the growing Trinity Church Movement, a anti-slavery, anti-colonial religious organization which also rejected the Sanctarian Catholic Church as a flawed organization.

The Trinity Church, while being a denomination also was a social club of well-educated anti-colonial thinkers with DeGarza joining the company of Paul Iglesias and David Lau. DeGarza was able to distribute his pamphlet and also grow in his theological arguments. He was challenged to approach the issue of slavery from a religious perspective. Catholic’s had used biblical references to slavery as justification for their actions or the continued legality of slavery. In 1807, DeGarza published “Living in a Kingdom of Sin” an unique piece of literature which through poem and short essays presented several arguments against slavery. He argued slavery was in fact a sinful  act, and that by continuing the ownership of other human being’s, the moral foundation of the San Fernando Colony. Additionally, DeGarza pointed to how both the Ambonar Kingdom and the Kaijanese Emirate had not outlawed and “by freeing every enslaved man, this great colony can prove the superiority of our faith over other’s”.

The book was widely distributed and was consumed by the upper-society of the colony’s many cities. Soon local councils were being approached by concerned citizens who demanded they outlaw slavery within their townships, cities and villages. By creating simple decrees, slave owners would have their “property” be seized by the state, and then thus freed. These decrees spread far and wide, even gaining attention in the Ambonar Kingdom who by 1811 had declared that “The only servitude should be to preserve the divine kingdom, citizens shall not enslave other citizens.” Despite these groundswells of change, the Colonial government held steadfast. Governor Francisco Basco stated in a 1815 letter that colony-wide decree would be pointless, and “the issue of slavery should be a matter of a man and his conscience”. In the end, it would be the transfer of the San Fernando Colony to the Papal States of Sanctaria and the creation of the Dominion of Slokais, a term devised by Paul Iglesias in the hopes direct control from Sanctus would improve the state of the Catholic Church in the new land of Slokais.  Juan DeGarza would end up being an advocate for workers'rights until his death in 1839.

Today, Juan DeGarza has a legacy as a prominent Afro-Slokasian which is recognized via the naming of DeGarza Square in the city of Port Antonio. Additionally, June 8th is celebrated as DeGarza by the Damensiri ethnic community and is recognized as a holiday in Banco Grande Province. Popular celebrations include poetry competitions, public readings of his work and many staples of Damensiri cuisine such as Okra Soup and Sweetbread. In a religious sense, DeGarza is viewed as a saint by the Trinity Church of Slokais, which has around 1 million faithful. Saint DeGarza is often seen as a saint to those suffering poor labor conditions, a candle with his face is often carried at various union and labour events. Additionally, Saint DeGarza College is a Trinitarian college in San Fernando Province with 2,500 students.

Sean Khan
(1960-

Sean Khan isn’t unknown to any Slokasian in modern-times. His presidency and political presence since the 1990s has made him known by many. Yet less know his story and his commitment to what he believed in. Simran Jopuri Khan was born on May 14th, 1960. The region was conquered by Darya in the 1940s, yet there was always a strong resistance. In 1965, Simran and his family had to flee their home with very little possessions. Yet they remained in high spirits as the children including Simiran remained oblivious as they lived in a refugee camp set up by various aid organizations. Simran’s early memories as he recalled in a 2006 interview with SIBC were “simply playing with the other kids, games of tag and it, sometimes if someone had a football we all played between two goals, their posts marked out with stones”. In 1967, as Darya collapsed the new Union of Andhrapur was declared. “There was a great celebration, my parents brought together some food they had been saving and everybody in our area of the camp had a great meal”. Yet, in the camp and in much of Andhrapur there were considerable tensions.

There were heated debates among the residents on the future of Andhrapur, whether through the Mahraj or through the Free Andhrapur Forces led by Fahim Rubel Masud. The events of the outside world were reflected in the camp, as it became clear that many would never return home. Finally, in 1972 after Rubel Masud’s government was couped, the country was once again thrown into chaos. Internal disputes within the camp boiled over one day, as suddenly overnight there was a great panic as several structures had been set alight. It was chaos, and Simran ended up being swept up in a crowd, getting separated from his family. The camp burned down completely, as the country of Andraphapur fell into what would become a decade long conflict. Soon, Simran was seemingly orphaned, told falsely by a friend that they had died. That same friend soon took Simran into his family, the two had played football together at the camp and they continued to do so, this time at a smaller camp run by the Saint John’s Aid, a Slokasian organization. There was protection and promises of a new life in foreign lands as Andhrapur descended into what would become a full-scale ethnic cleansing.

In 1970, the National Resettlement Program was launched as a form of land transfer from the state-owned plots of the National Reform era back to private land ownerships. Additionally, international pressure for Slokais to give back for its war crimes and take upon the large number of refugees. Immigrants would be chosen from countries where returning-home would be "dangerous and deadly” and then given a singular acre of land in an unclaimed tract of land, those owned by people who had either died, their homes destroyed or simply those who had moved. Haesanite’s were the first being moved to coastal tracts in Northern Isles Province or farmland in Rio Bravos Township. Starting in 1973, Andhrapurian’s and Daryans began to be moved, although their large numbers meant they were sent to several mostly rural tracts across the country.

In early 1973, the Khan family which now included Simran who took upon their last name to remain with them applied for settlement in the Silverado Province. They were far from the only ones with around 1.2 million Andharians alone applying for the NRP program between 1973 and 1985. Simran and his family in fact reported for multiple rounds of interviews over the course of several months, each time Smiran was told to repeat he was the child of the Khan family. After several more rounds, a health inspection and a physical inspection to check for diseases, Simran was brought in for a personal interview.
“I couldn’t keep the lie any longer. I hated lying then, and I hate it now” Khan said in the previously mentioned 2006 interview. Simran told the truth, he was an orphaned child living with a friend's family, he didn’t have anyone else, nowhere to go.
“I felt like a weight had been lifted away from my shoulders. Although I knew they likely wouldn’t let me continue on with the rest of the family. The program had so many applicants, they must have been wanting to cut people, I thought”. Yet the specific worker, a young college graduate named Sean Wallace understood his story, he told him that his story was safe and that he and his new family would stay together. Simran was logged as part of a family of 5 traveling to Ciudad Silverado for placement and documentation. They had been accepted.

The family took more than a week to reach the mid-sized city on the west coast of Slokais, from a plane to a boat to a plane again. On June 12th, 1973, a large jet landed at Ciudad Silverado Airport carrying around 200 new immigrants, all from Andhrapur. There was some celebration on the ground, as supporters of the program waved Slokasian flags and graciously helped in whatever they could. Each was eventually brought onto a bus and taken to one of several NRP processing centers. The Khan’s were brought to Parcel Santamarina and asked to confirm several documents, including, name, age, and to confirm several documents. All the children were required to attend a local public school, a decision opposed by locals. Eventually, Simran was asked to write his name down for documentation. He wrote it as Sean Jopuri Khan.

The Khans were assigned to Lot 1214.5, which was located on a spur of the larger 12th Kilometer Road. There was thankfully an existing structure on the lot, not a guarantee for many of the site’s. Its roof was gone, the chimney had its top blown off, and there were several abandoned foxholes in the backyard. Unlike some however, the Khans had been farmers back in the homeland. George Khan, Sean’s adoptive father went right to work going to the 12th Kilometer general-store for basic farming equipment as Sean’s adoptive mother, Maria went right to work planting melon seeds. Sean, and his brothers Howard and Louis were soon attending a local secondary school where it soon became clear they were not welcome. The boys were each several years behind in education, a product of their education being cut short in their formative years. Local parents complained that the Khan’s and other Andharians were wasting the time of teachers. In 1975, the Santamarina Township School District created a new school, not officially for just immigrants, but the school’s boundaries were specifically designed to include only tract areas. 

Stereotypes became widespread, stories of Andharians hunting and killing local animals were widely exaggerated. Attempts at building a Zindist temple in the town of Paso Robles were met with strong local opposition. When leaving their local area, Sean and his brothers would be harassed, his younger brother Louis proved to be a football prodigy and when the family went to attend his trials at local clubs, parents and other players would shout insults. Despite everything, the Khan’s succeeded, their melon farm became prosperous, Sean Khan graduated from secondary school, his score excellent yet unable to attend a university away from home

Despite this, Sean graduated from Graywood Community College in 1983, and from Silverado Provincial University in 1986 with a law degree, passing the bar exam in the same year. Impressive for someone who was deemed to be “year’s behind his peers” by his secondary school teacher. Louis would earn a semi-professional contract with Sanmarina FC were his impressive performances led to him scouted by the New Liverpool FC Academy. Louis Khan would end up being the youngest and only the third Andharian to play for a professional football club. Howard would end up becoming an agricultural engineer with a degree from San Jose Poly in 1985. All of these successes and the continued Andharian community presence finally led to changing social attitudes. Andharians were elected to local government, restaurants and business opened up with each plot of the original land tract being full by 1989, just as the NRP program was officially shut down.

In 2004, Sean Khan returned home to Andhrapur on an official state-visit. The country had become a multi-party democracy and the arrival of President Khan was viewed as a great moment of national pride. In his first speech, he opened in the Andhran language which was met with massive applause. Additionally, after extensive work, Sean Khan was reunited with his original family the Jopuri’s. His father had died in 1996, yet he was able to reunite with his mother and his siblings in his childhood village. In 2011, his mother, his younger sister and his nieces and nephews immigrated to Slokais in their own right. The Andhrapurian community remains strong in Slokais with most of the population still living in the original rural settlement areas. Additionally, Sean Khan pushed to re-start the NRP program in 2003, which is a speciality program for skilled immigrants and their families, the number of accepted applicants varies by year but generally those in the program are moved into volunteer communities lacking in the labor force. The biggest impact has been in North Acadia Province which has seen a massive growth in the Nuiqustian population in rural fishing and forestry communities.]]>

Yen Shen Yumu
(990-1060)

The Shen Yumu Clan was one of the most influential among the Proto-Minjian Kingdoms of the Classical Period. Its wealth was regarded as one of the greatest, as its roots extend to the Tian Dynasty in present-day Laeral. Yet Shen Yumu came in as an outsider. Born in present-day Laeral to the second wife of Cheng Shen Yimu, Yen had a relatively pleasant early childhood per his accounts. Yet, everything changed when the Tian Dynasty which had been weakening for years fell into collapse. Cheng took mercy on his second son, as his older son born to another mother was failing to be effective on the battlefield.

Around 1002 or 1003, Youfu was put on a boat carrying many Minjian faithful to the promised lands of Pindai or “Blessed Place”. The city of Pindai would not be founded for several more decades, yet local leaders were encouraging migration to the region as part of the “War of Faith” which had begun several decades prior as an internal conflict within the Janghara State between Minjian and Animist forces. Cheng Shen Yimu was at the time, in command of the Pact of the Aligned, a collection of Minjian families and city states. He was growing older and sensed a successor was needed.

At that point, Cheng Shen Yumu had made Jianhua the seat of his power, and Yenwas brought there on a great-carriage escorted by an assortment of troops, dancers and members of court. Jianhua, which remains to this day in Pinjiang Province, was considered one of the great cities of the day.  Such an important moment was the arrival of Yen Shen Yumu, that the moment was depicted in several pieces of artwork such as “The Arrival” by Jiong Chen Wu, on permanent display at the National Gallery of Slokais. To the surprise of Cheng, Yen did not seek power or violence against the Animists as he hoped, or a sense of leadership to his people. Rather, Youfu spoke of reasoning and peaceful conversion of the people of these kingdoms to the Minjian Faith. This shocked the militarist, Cheng who decided that his second son wasn’t a warrior-heir but rather should be kept away as a greater thinker or advisor to him. He would have to find his successor elsewhere.

So it was up into the high mountains, carrying his belongings behind him with nothing but a map and a name. He found it, the Temple of the Divine Pursuit and its then caretakers the Brightnesses. Yen thus began his educational and spiritual journey, tuning out the war going on outside the walls and learning from his teachers. By the time news reached the mountains that Cheng Shen Yimu had passed away, his second son had consumed all there was to know within the temple’s collection of books. Yofu was offered the position of regent to his older brother, yet he rejected it.

“I shall only be a warrior to divine, only a swordsman to the divine kingdom and only a commander of the righteous faith”

Yen then began writing the first of his more than a dozen books he would publish in his lifetime, Tribulations. In the book, he would set out the ideals of a unique branch of the Minjian Faith, later known as Yenguango. Yenguango believes in a singular, dual-natured deity known as the Divine which encompasses the Host and Lady commonly believed as two separate divine beings. In addition, Yen disagreed with the notion that divine intervention was impossible, rather it could only occur in certain places at certain times. Additionally, Yen and the followers of Yenguango took a vow of veganism and abstinence from sex before marriage. Yenguango also argued Minjian’s should follow the pursuit of understanding the universe as scientists, educators or explorers. This is best encompassed by his most famous of quotes from his book “Life in Service of the Divine”

“The greatest joys of life come from the discovery of the Divine’s marks upon creation, the clouds in the sky, the animals on the ground, the rivers of the land. Yet is not a joy just upon the man which has discovered it but a joy upon those who come to see it within their time. It is glorious and a reminder of the Divine’s grace”

Yen would end up writing several academic papers on topics such as the water cycle, erosion and weather movements. He reached many of these discoveries at his various observation huts which were built by him and a growing number of disciples. Each consisted of a central octagonal chamber with an open circular roof and a central water pond. Attached was at the very least one room for sleep and prayer and another for storing materials necessary for writing and reading existing texts. Since his death in 1060, the Society of Yenguango has quietly maintained and studied at each of these sites which range in size. Visiting each of the 9 huts in succession is seen as a popular method of spiritualism and retreat to many Minjian in Slokais, even if some of his concepts are not accepted in the mainstream Minjian Faith.

During his later life, Yen would be called upon by his nephew Yofu Shen Yimu to establish the various bureaus of science and education of the Pindai State with many of these institutions taking upon his name. Scientists of the Pindai State, would end up having to take an oath of Yenguango for several centuries and his works on the nature of the universe would become required reading for any high reaching civil servant of the state. Today at Covenant University, the most important Minjian institution in Slokais, students who study in social sciences, medicine or engineering are required to take classes in the teaching of Yen Shen Yumu. Including President Joseph Zhang, who honored him with a special-edition 10,000 Mark note in 2019 due to his scientific contributions to geography, geology and philosophy. Politician, Spartcus Jones took upon the oath of abstinence and veganism before starting his Revolt! political party based on his reading of Yen’s works.

Juan De Garza
(1773-1839)

A poet, pastor and activist, Juan De Garza shouldn’t have never made it. Born in a fishing village in modern-day Kolda he lived the first years of his life in relative peace. But then in his own words “I was robbed of the innocence of childhood, the pride of freedom and the times of our youth by the cruelty of mankind”. De Garza who did not remember his name, only his mother’s face was enslaved and sent to Slokais via the Costeno Empire’s slave trading network.

At the time, the demands for labor in the new San Fernando colony called some to venture to Kolda to establish a slave trading network. People captured in war within the interior were brought to an island in Guedeiawaye Harbor, before ships would take the month’s long journey across the Olympic Ocean. By the time Juan De Garza came into the system, it was in its twilight years. War’s and conflict had ruined the finances of the traders and changed demand for labor from enslaved Koldans to indigenous Slokasians. De Garza describes a “great place of despair, I did not know much as I was just barely 3 or 4 years old, yet I knew evil was around, the devil’s worst creatures”. Referring to the San Fernando Slave Market on modern-day City Island, De Garza was in-fact one of the last people documented to have traveled through, as the transport and sale of slaves was banned by the municipal government in 1778. Yet, it didn’t mean De Garza was free. He and his siblings, yet not his mother, were bought by the Castillo family, an auctioneering family who owned a market in the Kingsway and a large plantation out in the swamp land of Salvador. Slavery was officially banned in the city, meaning persons living within could not be enslaved by another living within. Yet it thrived in Salvador City, De Garza who was given the surname Castillo was made to work as a rice farmer.

The swampland was cruel, walking in still water under a hot baking sun. Gathering the rice and then hauling huge baskets a mile or more to the Castillo’s rice storage building. De Garza lived this life until around 1790 when he was transferred to the auction house in San Fernando. Damien Castillo, needed extra hands around the office and Juan was praised as a hard worker, an example. De Garza described this in his 1815 book “Memories of the Stolen” as “I was cooled down, like a hot fire soaked by water. My words became cool, my behavior like hot coals. Calm and lacking heat from a distance yet still carrying the same heat”. It was through the auction house that De Garza learned to read Spanish so he could read directions. Damien assumed he lacked any more will, and could only understand and read words related to his company. Yet for Juan, his mind had been opened.

He eventually devised a plan, he began to talk with a woman named Ceila DeGarza, a Mestizo of Koldan ancestry. The two released that if they married officially, Juan would become a citizen and Ceila a widow would be able to restore her rights as a married person. Although the two lacked in love, with both later describing their relationship as “purely transactional” they were married in 1792, with Juan confirming his freedom on June 8th, 1792 in the records of the San Fernando Municipal Clerk. The two never had children of their own, although they adopted several over the course of their lives. Seeking employment, Juan began working as a deliveryman building connections within San Fernando. Through this work he was exposed to many people including many in the growing Afro-Slokaisan community (although they went by the term Nerienos at the time).

By 1800, the push to end slavery across the San Fernando Colony was becoming widespread. DeGarza, seeking to promote legislation, began a campaign of poems and writings which he personally distributed. Within his first pamphlet “Cases for a Society without Slavery”, DeGarza responded to common arguments for slavery’s continued usage using religious, economic and personal arguments. The success of the pamphlet led to several speaking engagements which grew popular support for abolishing slavery. While the slave trade had ended there remained 100,000 people classified as “enslaved person’s” by the 1805 Census. His events eventually brought him in contact with the growing Trinity Church Movement, a anti-slavery, anti-colonial religious organization which also rejected the Sanctarian Catholic Church as a flawed organization.

The Trinity Church, while being a denomination also was a social club of well-educated anti-colonial thinkers with DeGarza joining the company of Paul Iglesias and David Lau. DeGarza was able to distribute his pamphlet and also grow in his theological arguments. He was challenged to approach the issue of slavery from a religious perspective. Catholic’s had used biblical references to slavery as justification for their actions or the continued legality of slavery. In 1807, DeGarza published “Living in a Kingdom of Sin” an unique piece of literature which through poem and short essays presented several arguments against slavery. He argued slavery was in fact a sinful  act, and that by continuing the ownership of other human being’s, the moral foundation of the San Fernando Colony. Additionally, DeGarza pointed to how both the Ambonar Kingdom and the Kaijanese Emirate had not outlawed and “by freeing every enslaved man, this great colony can prove the superiority of our faith over other’s”.

The book was widely distributed and was consumed by the upper-society of the colony’s many cities. Soon local councils were being approached by concerned citizens who demanded they outlaw slavery within their townships, cities and villages. By creating simple decrees, slave owners would have their “property” be seized by the state, and then thus freed. These decrees spread far and wide, even gaining attention in the Ambonar Kingdom who by 1811 had declared that “The only servitude should be to preserve the divine kingdom, citizens shall not enslave other citizens.” Despite these groundswells of change, the Colonial government held steadfast. Governor Francisco Basco stated in a 1815 letter that colony-wide decree would be pointless, and “the issue of slavery should be a matter of a man and his conscience”. In the end, it would be the transfer of the San Fernando Colony to the Papal States of Sanctaria and the creation of the Dominion of Slokais, a term devised by Paul Iglesias in the hopes direct control from Sanctus would improve the state of the Catholic Church in the new land of Slokais.  Juan DeGarza would end up being an advocate for workers'rights until his death in 1839.

Today, Juan DeGarza has a legacy as a prominent Afro-Slokasian which is recognized via the naming of DeGarza Square in the city of Port Antonio. Additionally, June 8th is celebrated as DeGarza by the Damensiri ethnic community and is recognized as a holiday in Banco Grande Province. Popular celebrations include poetry competitions, public readings of his work and many staples of Damensiri cuisine such as Okra Soup and Sweetbread. In a religious sense, DeGarza is viewed as a saint by the Trinity Church of Slokais, which has around 1 million faithful. Saint DeGarza is often seen as a saint to those suffering poor labor conditions, a candle with his face is often carried at various union and labour events. Additionally, Saint DeGarza College is a Trinitarian college in San Fernando Province with 2,500 students.

Sean Khan
(1960-

Sean Khan isn’t unknown to any Slokasian in modern-times. His presidency and political presence since the 1990s has made him known by many. Yet less know his story and his commitment to what he believed in. Simran Jopuri Khan was born on May 14th, 1960. The region was conquered by Darya in the 1940s, yet there was always a strong resistance. In 1965, Simran and his family had to flee their home with very little possessions. Yet they remained in high spirits as the children including Simiran remained oblivious as they lived in a refugee camp set up by various aid organizations. Simran’s early memories as he recalled in a 2006 interview with SIBC were “simply playing with the other kids, games of tag and it, sometimes if someone had a football we all played between two goals, their posts marked out with stones”. In 1967, as Darya collapsed the new Union of Andhrapur was declared. “There was a great celebration, my parents brought together some food they had been saving and everybody in our area of the camp had a great meal”. Yet, in the camp and in much of Andhrapur there were considerable tensions.

There were heated debates among the residents on the future of Andhrapur, whether through the Mahraj or through the Free Andhrapur Forces led by Fahim Rubel Masud. The events of the outside world were reflected in the camp, as it became clear that many would never return home. Finally, in 1972 after Rubel Masud’s government was couped, the country was once again thrown into chaos. Internal disputes within the camp boiled over one day, as suddenly overnight there was a great panic as several structures had been set alight. It was chaos, and Simran ended up being swept up in a crowd, getting separated from his family. The camp burned down completely, as the country of Andraphapur fell into what would become a decade long conflict. Soon, Simran was seemingly orphaned, told falsely by a friend that they had died. That same friend soon took Simran into his family, the two had played football together at the camp and they continued to do so, this time at a smaller camp run by the Saint John’s Aid, a Slokasian organization. There was protection and promises of a new life in foreign lands as Andhrapur descended into what would become a full-scale ethnic cleansing.

In 1970, the National Resettlement Program was launched as a form of land transfer from the state-owned plots of the National Reform era back to private land ownerships. Additionally, international pressure for Slokais to give back for its war crimes and take upon the large number of refugees. Immigrants would be chosen from countries where returning-home would be "dangerous and deadly” and then given a singular acre of land in an unclaimed tract of land, those owned by people who had either died, their homes destroyed or simply those who had moved. Haesanite’s were the first being moved to coastal tracts in Northern Isles Province or farmland in Rio Bravos Township. Starting in 1973, Andhrapurian’s and Daryans began to be moved, although their large numbers meant they were sent to several mostly rural tracts across the country.

In early 1973, the Khan family which now included Simran who took upon their last name to remain with them applied for settlement in the Silverado Province. They were far from the only ones with around 1.2 million Andharians alone applying for the NRP program between 1973 and 1985. Simran and his family in fact reported for multiple rounds of interviews over the course of several months, each time Smiran was told to repeat he was the child of the Khan family. After several more rounds, a health inspection and a physical inspection to check for diseases, Simran was brought in for a personal interview.
“I couldn’t keep the lie any longer. I hated lying then, and I hate it now” Khan said in the previously mentioned 2006 interview. Simran told the truth, he was an orphaned child living with a friend's family, he didn’t have anyone else, nowhere to go.
“I felt like a weight had been lifted away from my shoulders. Although I knew they likely wouldn’t let me continue on with the rest of the family. The program had so many applicants, they must have been wanting to cut people, I thought”. Yet the specific worker, a young college graduate named Sean Wallace understood his story, he told him that his story was safe and that he and his new family would stay together. Simran was logged as part of a family of 5 traveling to Ciudad Silverado for placement and documentation. They had been accepted.

The family took more than a week to reach the mid-sized city on the west coast of Slokais, from a plane to a boat to a plane again. On June 12th, 1973, a large jet landed at Ciudad Silverado Airport carrying around 200 new immigrants, all from Andhrapur. There was some celebration on the ground, as supporters of the program waved Slokasian flags and graciously helped in whatever they could. Each was eventually brought onto a bus and taken to one of several NRP processing centers. The Khan’s were brought to Parcel Santamarina and asked to confirm several documents, including, name, age, and to confirm several documents. All the children were required to attend a local public school, a decision opposed by locals. Eventually, Simran was asked to write his name down for documentation. He wrote it as Sean Jopuri Khan.

The Khans were assigned to Lot 1214.5, which was located on a spur of the larger 12th Kilometer Road. There was thankfully an existing structure on the lot, not a guarantee for many of the site’s. Its roof was gone, the chimney had its top blown off, and there were several abandoned foxholes in the backyard. Unlike some however, the Khans had been farmers back in the homeland. George Khan, Sean’s adoptive father went right to work going to the 12th Kilometer general-store for basic farming equipment as Sean’s adoptive mother, Maria went right to work planting melon seeds. Sean, and his brothers Howard and Louis were soon attending a local secondary school where it soon became clear they were not welcome. The boys were each several years behind in education, a product of their education being cut short in their formative years. Local parents complained that the Khan’s and other Andharians were wasting the time of teachers. In 1975, the Santamarina Township School District created a new school, not officially for just immigrants, but the school’s boundaries were specifically designed to include only tract areas. 

Stereotypes became widespread, stories of Andharians hunting and killing local animals were widely exaggerated. Attempts at building a Zindist temple in the town of Paso Robles were met with strong local opposition. When leaving their local area, Sean and his brothers would be harassed, his younger brother Louis proved to be a football prodigy and when the family went to attend his trials at local clubs, parents and other players would shout insults. Despite everything, the Khan’s succeeded, their melon farm became prosperous, Sean Khan graduated from secondary school, his score excellent yet unable to attend a university away from home

Despite this, Sean graduated from Graywood Community College in 1983, and from Silverado Provincial University in 1986 with a law degree, passing the bar exam in the same year. Impressive for someone who was deemed to be “year’s behind his peers” by his secondary school teacher. Louis would earn a semi-professional contract with Sanmarina FC were his impressive performances led to him scouted by the New Liverpool FC Academy. Louis Khan would end up being the youngest and only the third Andharian to play for a professional football club. Howard would end up becoming an agricultural engineer with a degree from San Jose Poly in 1985. All of these successes and the continued Andharian community presence finally led to changing social attitudes. Andharians were elected to local government, restaurants and business opened up with each plot of the original land tract being full by 1989, just as the NRP program was officially shut down.

In 2004, Sean Khan returned home to Andhrapur on an official state-visit. The country had become a multi-party democracy and the arrival of President Khan was viewed as a great moment of national pride. In his first speech, he opened in the Andhran language which was met with massive applause. Additionally, after extensive work, Sean Khan was reunited with his original family the Jopuri’s. His father had died in 1996, yet he was able to reunite with his mother and his siblings in his childhood village. In 2011, his mother, his younger sister and his nieces and nephews immigrated to Slokais in their own right. The Andhrapurian community remains strong in Slokais with most of the population still living in the original rural settlement areas. Additionally, Sean Khan pushed to re-start the NRP program in 2003, which is a speciality program for skilled immigrants and their families, the number of accepted applicants varies by year but generally those in the program are moved into volunteer communities lacking in the labor force. The biggest impact has been in North Acadia Province which has seen a massive growth in the Nuiqustian population in rural fishing and forestry communities.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13363 Sun, 21 Dec 2025 23:51:37 -0600 Laeral]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13363 1. The Beginning

Fahim Rubel Masud. The Liberator, the saint, the man crowned in might-have-beens—it’s impossible to look at blighted little Andhrapur today without considering how it could have been so beautifully, wonderfully different if we’d been given just five more years with Muktipada Masud. His death shattered our horizons, made the stories we told about ourselves and the futures we imagined infinitely smaller.

Fahim was wise, gifted, and pure of heart. He was an angel. But he was not God.

Andhrapur means “land of the earthy ones,” and Fahim Rubel Masud, once he descended from heaven, could never return. This impure Andhrapuri earth is his grave. The first truth you need to know, and the one which colors all the rest of them: Fahim Rubel Masud was gone too soon.

2. The Enemy

It’s a little-known fact that Fahim Masud’s story began in an unlikely place: the small town of Karimganj in Semaria, what was then the southern borderlands of the Daryan Empire. He was born in 1924 to an upper-caste Zindist family of the Gouri ethnic group. The Gouri people have for centuries found themselves set apart from their neighbors on both sides of the Darya-Andhrapur border. Tall and pale-skinned, the Gouri believe their origins lie far to the south of Andhrapur itself, and modern genetic evidence suggests that a vast Gouri northward migration took place around the 12th century. Settling in villages dotting the plains, jungles, and riverbanks of this region of Caxcana, the Gouri made up a sizable minority on both sides of the border: around 40% of Darya’s Semaria province, and around 30% of Andhrapuris.

Fahim’s family itself was what was known in Darya as “returnees.” In 1920, rival claimants to the title of Maharaj of Andhrapur clashed in a brief, bitter conflict. Gouris, associated (with little basis) with supporters of the losing claimant were driven out; an estimated 120,000 fled across the border to Darya, among them Fahim’s parents. Living in a shantytown that had sprung out of a refugee tent city, forbidden by government fiat from seeking jobs besides subsistence farming, Masuma and Sajib Masud clung to their caste identity and their dream of return. Raised under a strict purification regimen mandating abstention from physical contact with anyone of lesser caste, Fahim’s parents intended for him only to receive a basic education before joining the tepasnanda clergy, as his two elder brothers had done. His school’s headmaster identified Fahim as a promising student and convinced his parents to allow him to continue in school, alone among his siblings. 

In 1940, the Daryan Empire invaded Andhrapur, seeking to reclaim its wayward colony. Fahim was conscripted into the Daryan Army, where he attained the rank of sergeant. At one point, just eight months into the war, he attempted to desert and was beaten fiercely; only another soldier’s intervention saved him from execution.

That soldier’s name was Aminul Akther.

3. Aminul Akther

“Akther! Akther! A thousand deaths are not enough for Akther!” So goes the children’s playground refrain.

Before his name was forever blackened by his treachery, Aminul Akther was a comrade of Masud’s in the Daryan Army. Both Returnees who had been raised in the refugee camps of Semaria, Akther and Masud were once classmates, conscripted together, who fought together across the plains and swamps of Andhrapur. Akther hailed from a far lower caste than Masud, enough so that their friendship could never have taken shape in the stifling environment of the Returnee camp. More outrageous still, Akther was a Jena—a member of the Zindist sect known for favoring frugality and rejecting the authority of the tepasnanda religious hierarchy. Amidst the backdrop of a grinding colonial war, these boundaries of caste and religion faded away, and Fahim and Akther became friends. Promoted to lieutenant and Masud’s direct superior, Akther convinced his higher-ups that Fahim had been coerced into going along with two enlisted soldiers’ desertion plot. Fahim was only stripped of his rank and permitted to continue as an enlisted man; the other two men were shot.

The war ended in 1943, with Darya once again master of Andhrapur. A modern, industrialized army with tanks and aircraft had triumphed over Andhrapuri forces who had often been sent into battle with fewer than ten bullets per soldier. The nation was devastated, the royal family in exile, while its resources were pillaged to feed Daryan factories. With Andhrapur conquered, the Gouri Returnees were expelled from Darya en masse. Seen as educated and loyal, many would take up positions as teachers, bureaucrats, and plantation foremen in service to the Daryan colonial authorities. Among them was Fahim Masud, who, mustering out from the Daryan Army in 1943, became a history teacher at the prestigious Southern Navsari Boys’ School, where boys who would go on to serve in the colonial military or bureaucracy were educated.

4. Fahim Sir

Fahim Sir—for that’s how we refer to teachers in Andhrapur—was beloved among his students for his knowledge, his gentleness (he never once employed the lathi, or bamboo switch, that his colleagues so frequently used to beat students for the slightest of reasons), and the clear delight he showed when he lectured on the great battles of the past. At the Southern Navsari Boys’ School, history education was almost entirely centered on the military heroes of Daryan history, and Fahim Sir could keep an entire class of boys spellbound, talking at length about the battles of the Manvi War or the great war with Costeno.

I know this because I was one of his students—spellbound, practically in awe of the teacher who would lend books to his favorites. I took great interest in his class—I was Andhrapuri by birth, but at the time I harbored foolish aspirations of becoming a soldier in the Daryan Army—and the first inkling I had of his politics was when he lent me his copy of the Laeralian guerrilla fighter Hong Kuo-shu’s textbook On People’s War. By this time, in the year 1951, Fahim Masud, through his old army friend Aminul Akther, had become a part of the secret circle then known as the Andhrapur Front for National Unity. Although AFNU was just one of several organizations plotting to overthrow Daryan rule, it was the only one that united its burning desire for freedom with a progressive vision that would reject the old divisions of ethnicity and faith as well as the Maharaj-in-exile and the feudal past he represented.

By spring 1952, I had realized that Fahim Sir planned to depart his life as a teacher and take to the highlands to wage war against the colonial occupation. I confessed my desire to join him—the Daryan army held no allure for me anymore, and I couldn’t bear to take up any other career when my homeland lay under cruel Daryan rule—and on March 24th, 1952, he led me and three other students into the mountains.

5. The Struggle

The early years of the resistance were so difficult that it would take an entire book to relate them. Living in the highland jungles was difficult enough, surrounded by wild beasts, with heat in the summer and biting cold in the winter. We relied entirely on the kindness and sympathy of local villagers—as Hong Kuo-shu wrote in On People’s War, the guerrilla relies on the populace like a fish relies on water. We made ourselves useful to them through teaching, gathering firewood, and helping with the harvest, while seizing the opportunity to educate them on our struggle for liberation. They reciprocated by sharing their food and warning us in advance of the colonial policemen. We would have never endured without them.

We were barely a hundred men and eight women at first, with only a handful of guns to go around; many of our first operations were raiding rural police stations for arms. These were hard years. One of the three students who accompanied me, whom I knew only as Raihan, died just six months into our struggle, shot dead in a tussle with a policeman. He was the first of many men I’d see die.

Fahim was named the leader of our entire force, which underwent a change of names: from the Andhrapur Front for National Unity to the National Resistance Front. Our movement grew and swelled like a forest fire, subsuming the other resistance groups, and soon there were entire stretches of the countryside where the Daryans had no control whatsoever. By 1955, we had grown in confidence enough to declare ourselves the Republic of Andhrapur, hoisting our flag and making bids for support from the outside world.

The Maharaj, a foolish old man who’d spent the last decade in exile abroad, doing nothing of consequence, chose this time to make entreaties to Fahim and the NRF. He proposed an alliance through an envoy of little consequence, a boy barely older than me who’d hardly known Andhrapur before the Daryan invasion. Fahim turned him away. “Tell the Maharaj we’ll deal with his blood relatives, no one less.”

The Maharaj in exile sent back his cousin, and the negotiations began. Over countless cups of tea in a jungle camp, Fahim and the Maharaj’s man threshed out an agreement. The Maharaj would become the figurehead leader of the resistance, with Fahim as leader of the combined armed forces. There was a ten-point agreement on the future of the nation, with supple vagueties in all the important places. And there was yet another new name for the alliance: the Free Andhrapuri Forces.

On the eve of the signing, I wish I could have warned Fahim to back out. The Maharaj and the homegrown rebellion were incompatible in ways that the ten-point agreement could hardly hide. Our vision for the future of Andhrapur didn’t include a feudal system ruled over by a crowned head, and the Maharaj and his men surely knew it. But at the same time, Fahim was too canny to enter into such an agreement without a plan to come out on top in the end. The image of the Maharaj, he knew, would do wonders in rallying the peasantry behind our banner. And the Maharaj had contacts in foreign capitals our band of rebels could have only dreamed of. On a chilly October afternoon, the accord was signed; the Maharaj and our cause were now bound together.

6. To Victory

The struggle only accelerated once our accord with the Maharaj was signed. The Daryans, after years of relative lethargy, threw their forces into battle against our own with renewed vigor. Columns of armored cars climbed rain-slicked tracks into mountain valleys as aircraft dropped their bombs on the jungles where we hid. The weather and the rugged terrain were our greatest ally; under cover of darkness, we eluded the enemy, traveling sometimes days at a time on meager rations before striking swiftly and then vanishing into the dark.

Our forces grew remarkably over the late 50s. Acts of resistance sprung up across the country; even in Navsari, the heart of the enemy occupation, our fighters made their presence known. We began receiving arms and ammunition from the Laeralites, part of some shadow war their intelligence agents fought against Darya’s. They sent a series of advisors as well, whom Fahim heard out yet never let into his full confidence.

That is, except one. Violette Chakma, an Andhrapuri noblewoman raised in exile, had been sent from Laeral as a liaison to our forces, and she and Fahim grew close. Was there a romance between them, as a theater show now sweeping the stages of Navsari alleges? Perhaps there was, for they would have had plentiful opportunity for it over long nights in adjoining tents in our base areas and bivouacs, but I saw no sign of anything beyond a deep-rooted respect for one another. I, for one, have difficulty imagining General Fahim having space for any love in his breast besides love of country. But it is the case that when Chakma was captured, surely tortured, and executed in October of 1965, Fahim was anguished beyond any way I’d ever seen him.

He rejected any talk of mounting a rescue as foolish, of course. He was too good of a general to do otherwise.

Just six months later, the Coalition landed its soldiers in Darya. A year after that, the last Daryan holdouts surrendered. The empire was gone, and Andhrapur was free.

7. The Vote

It was a moment all had long hoped and dreamed for, one achieved only at massive cost in the tears of heroes and the blood of martyrs. Fahim Rubel Masud, the man who once had been my schoolteacher, now stood astride an entire nation now able to breathe free.

There’s a story that when the old Maharaj first returned to the land he claimed to rule, he was greeted by crowds cheering not his name, but Fahim’s. It was in that moment, the storyteller often adds, that his wicked heart set itself to conspiracy. I don’t believe this story—I think that as soon as the Maharaj heard of Fahim, he craved everything the liberator had as his own. What happened later was already written—we simply didn’t know it yet.

The Maharaj made his way first to his ancestral palace in Lalnipur, where he gathered around him a host of men still loyal to the royal banner, before leading this procession to the capital at Navsari. We were already there, of course, and we had six days’ warning that the Maharaj was advancing on the capital with three thousand men at his back. Whether he meant to parley, to kneel, or to purge us all, we didn’t know.

I remember well the fateful meeting we held, a council of war, in a high-ceilinged room at the old Daryan governor’s palace. The entire provisional cabinet: 11 men, two women. Many of them had served in the liberation struggle alongside us; a handful were newer additions, those who had worked with the colonial authorities yet emerged relatively untarnished.

For the briefest of moments, Fahim and I had the privacy of the antechamber to ourselves just before the meeting was to begin.

“Sir, I wanted to tell you that I will raise the motion to abolish the Maharaj and name you the first President of Andhrapur,” I said. “The council will surely back it, and people will rally behind you. They know who led them to freedom. We have no need to let the Maharaj and his throne endure.”

“You’re not the first to tell me of this,” Fahim said. He may have been about to say something more, but then the other members of the council walked through the door, and the meeting began.

To recount exactly what was said in that meeting over sixty years ago is far beyond this old man’s memory, and I have little desire to slander those who were there, many of them now long dead, by putting words they did not say into their mouths. I and many others argued for confrontation with the Maharaj; while his force was numerous, ours was more battle-hardened, and we could be confident of victory. Having just defeated the Daryans, after all, we felt unstoppable. What is remarkable, and this I remember clear as day, is that Aminul Akther, was among the young hotheads calling for Fahim to declare himself president and kick off a fight with the Maharaj.

Others argued for caution. Some of them were wary of the bloodshed this would surely unleash; skeptical of more war, they argued that the Maharaj could be negotiated into a subordinate position; that shedding more Andhrapuri blood would be a terrible calamity. Some, it is true, were likely sympathizers of the monarchy, who could not stomach taking up arms against the ruler whose ancestors their forefathers for countless generations had worshipped. To them, the Maharaj was Andhrapur. And while the forward-thinking of us shunned this as backwardness, Fahim surely feared that each of their words would be echoed in the hearts of many ordinary Andhrans, and that to declare himself President would tear the country apart. That, I believe, is why Fahim voted the way he did.

I choose not to believe that Fahim Rubel Masud was a coward, that after so much bravery and sacrifice, he shirked from his duty in the moment his country needed him once more. I choose to believe that Fahim, the teacher, the rebel, and the soldier, simply made a miscalculation.

We held a vote: “all those in favor of declaring Fahim Masud as President of Andhrapur?”

I voted yes, of course. Aminul did too. And when the turn came to Fahim, he held out his hands, open-palmed, in the traditional gesture of humility. “I abstain,” he said.

I like to think that in that moment, Fahim meant to rally the undecided councilors behind him. By signaling in that moment that he did not crave power, but would not reject it if thrust upon him, he meant to show that he was a humble man, not a tyrant in the making.

But in that moment, it doomed him. Those wavering saw it as weakness, and the remaining councilors nearly all voted nay, one by one.

We opened negotiations with the Maharaj and his army the next day.

8. Denouement

What happened after that crucial day has been told far better by others than I could retell here. In brief, the diplomats threshed out an agreement that saw the Maharaj returned to his throne and Fahim named as First Secretary, head of the civilian government. The key sticking point was over control of the military; the resulting compromise was distressingly ambiguous in its language.

In these years of fragility, I found myself charged with overseeing the integration of the royalist soldiers and our revolutionaries into a single, united military.

“I need someone I can trust as Inspector-General,” Fahim told me, privately, when he asked me to take on the post. “Someone has to keep the royalists honest.”

As I oversaw rural training camps where our Free Andhrapuri Forces veterans drilled alongside the Maharaj’s men, politics was never far from my thoughts. In these fragile first years of the Andhrapuri Union, I feared that a man like the Maharaj would never be satisfied sharing power with Fahim. Every new program that Fahim’s government announced—restoring the disused Daryan-built factories, the new legal code, land reform—seemed ripe to trigger some kind of reaction from the throne.

As is often the case, the blow from behind is more devastating than the expected blow from the front. March 19th, 1972, two decades after Fahim and I had first fled into the jungle—two of the policemen charged with protecting the First Secretary’s person strolled into Fahim’s office and shot him in the head. It is unknown whether he had any final words.

Within the hour, Aminul Akther sent soldiers loyal to him to seize the radio station and impound Parliament. Fahim Rubel Masud, liberator of Andhrapur, was the sole person to die in that coup. He was only 48.

When the news reached me, hours later, my first thought was that the sinister hand of the Maharaj had put Akther up to this. We would find out decades later, with the testimony of the Maharaj’s private secretary, that I was only half-right: the palace had never thought of using Akther against Fahim before Akther himself reached out, informing the Maharaj of their intentions and asking for their blessing.

Having lived a life defined by ideology, it was hard for me to conceive that someone could turn traitor based off of nothing but jealousy. Fahim likely hadn’t either.

The new First Secretary didn’t carry out the purge of his old comrades that I had expected. Two weeks after the coup, when it had become clear that Akther’s coup was a done deed, I received a missive reassigning me as ambassador to Milintica. This was an exile; the undertone was that remaining in Andhrapur would bring with it far worse consequences.

I was in Milintica, growing more tan in the sun with each passing month of pointless trade delegations and empty, halfhearted galas, when the word came that Aminul Akther—that wretched, traitorous, and above all foolhardy excuse for a man—had paid the price for his own miscalculations. Foolish and unable to rally the public or the Parliament behind him, the palace had struck to install their own man. Soldiers, many of them the same men who had marched on Navsari for the Maharaj after the war, had launched a coup at the palace’s bidding. Aminul Akther met a traitor’s death at their hands a few months later.

And there I was, one of those few still alive who could claim to have truly known Fahim Rubel Masud. Although the faces occupying the role of First Secretary would shuffle frantically over the following years as the Maharaj picked and discarded his favorites, the government in Navsari always took the same view of me: a curiosity, a tie to the old regime both too precious to discard and too worthless to fear. A man in a cage, growing older as my country did, I was marooned in the embassy in Milintica for years and years, where the occasional Andhrapuri traveler whom I hosted for dinner would press me for details on the Liberator I’d known. “Is it true, sir, that you knew Fahim Rubel Masud?”

“Me? I hardly did,” I’d say. “But he was a great man. Greater than any of us still living could ever hope to be.”

I think, often, about the poorer country his death left us—one where the generals are gone but the Maharaj, a new and younger one, remains on his throne; where the dreams of food and health and joy for all are still so very far away. One where every morning I shuffle with my cane past the statue of the Liberator on the street outside my house; the statue I picked because of all the countless ones dotting the capital city, it resembles the man I knew the most.]]> 1. The Beginning

Fahim Rubel Masud. The Liberator, the saint, the man crowned in might-have-beens—it’s impossible to look at blighted little Andhrapur today without considering how it could have been so beautifully, wonderfully different if we’d been given just five more years with Muktipada Masud. His death shattered our horizons, made the stories we told about ourselves and the futures we imagined infinitely smaller.

Fahim was wise, gifted, and pure of heart. He was an angel. But he was not God.

Andhrapur means “land of the earthy ones,” and Fahim Rubel Masud, once he descended from heaven, could never return. This impure Andhrapuri earth is his grave. The first truth you need to know, and the one which colors all the rest of them: Fahim Rubel Masud was gone too soon.

2. The Enemy

It’s a little-known fact that Fahim Masud’s story began in an unlikely place: the small town of Karimganj in Semaria, what was then the southern borderlands of the Daryan Empire. He was born in 1924 to an upper-caste Zindist family of the Gouri ethnic group. The Gouri people have for centuries found themselves set apart from their neighbors on both sides of the Darya-Andhrapur border. Tall and pale-skinned, the Gouri believe their origins lie far to the south of Andhrapur itself, and modern genetic evidence suggests that a vast Gouri northward migration took place around the 12th century. Settling in villages dotting the plains, jungles, and riverbanks of this region of Caxcana, the Gouri made up a sizable minority on both sides of the border: around 40% of Darya’s Semaria province, and around 30% of Andhrapuris.

Fahim’s family itself was what was known in Darya as “returnees.” In 1920, rival claimants to the title of Maharaj of Andhrapur clashed in a brief, bitter conflict. Gouris, associated (with little basis) with supporters of the losing claimant were driven out; an estimated 120,000 fled across the border to Darya, among them Fahim’s parents. Living in a shantytown that had sprung out of a refugee tent city, forbidden by government fiat from seeking jobs besides subsistence farming, Masuma and Sajib Masud clung to their caste identity and their dream of return. Raised under a strict purification regimen mandating abstention from physical contact with anyone of lesser caste, Fahim’s parents intended for him only to receive a basic education before joining the tepasnanda clergy, as his two elder brothers had done. His school’s headmaster identified Fahim as a promising student and convinced his parents to allow him to continue in school, alone among his siblings. 

In 1940, the Daryan Empire invaded Andhrapur, seeking to reclaim its wayward colony. Fahim was conscripted into the Daryan Army, where he attained the rank of sergeant. At one point, just eight months into the war, he attempted to desert and was beaten fiercely; only another soldier’s intervention saved him from execution.

That soldier’s name was Aminul Akther.

3. Aminul Akther

“Akther! Akther! A thousand deaths are not enough for Akther!” So goes the children’s playground refrain.

Before his name was forever blackened by his treachery, Aminul Akther was a comrade of Masud’s in the Daryan Army. Both Returnees who had been raised in the refugee camps of Semaria, Akther and Masud were once classmates, conscripted together, who fought together across the plains and swamps of Andhrapur. Akther hailed from a far lower caste than Masud, enough so that their friendship could never have taken shape in the stifling environment of the Returnee camp. More outrageous still, Akther was a Jena—a member of the Zindist sect known for favoring frugality and rejecting the authority of the tepasnanda religious hierarchy. Amidst the backdrop of a grinding colonial war, these boundaries of caste and religion faded away, and Fahim and Akther became friends. Promoted to lieutenant and Masud’s direct superior, Akther convinced his higher-ups that Fahim had been coerced into going along with two enlisted soldiers’ desertion plot. Fahim was only stripped of his rank and permitted to continue as an enlisted man; the other two men were shot.

The war ended in 1943, with Darya once again master of Andhrapur. A modern, industrialized army with tanks and aircraft had triumphed over Andhrapuri forces who had often been sent into battle with fewer than ten bullets per soldier. The nation was devastated, the royal family in exile, while its resources were pillaged to feed Daryan factories. With Andhrapur conquered, the Gouri Returnees were expelled from Darya en masse. Seen as educated and loyal, many would take up positions as teachers, bureaucrats, and plantation foremen in service to the Daryan colonial authorities. Among them was Fahim Masud, who, mustering out from the Daryan Army in 1943, became a history teacher at the prestigious Southern Navsari Boys’ School, where boys who would go on to serve in the colonial military or bureaucracy were educated.

4. Fahim Sir

Fahim Sir—for that’s how we refer to teachers in Andhrapur—was beloved among his students for his knowledge, his gentleness (he never once employed the lathi, or bamboo switch, that his colleagues so frequently used to beat students for the slightest of reasons), and the clear delight he showed when he lectured on the great battles of the past. At the Southern Navsari Boys’ School, history education was almost entirely centered on the military heroes of Daryan history, and Fahim Sir could keep an entire class of boys spellbound, talking at length about the battles of the Manvi War or the great war with Costeno.

I know this because I was one of his students—spellbound, practically in awe of the teacher who would lend books to his favorites. I took great interest in his class—I was Andhrapuri by birth, but at the time I harbored foolish aspirations of becoming a soldier in the Daryan Army—and the first inkling I had of his politics was when he lent me his copy of the Laeralian guerrilla fighter Hong Kuo-shu’s textbook On People’s War. By this time, in the year 1951, Fahim Masud, through his old army friend Aminul Akther, had become a part of the secret circle then known as the Andhrapur Front for National Unity. Although AFNU was just one of several organizations plotting to overthrow Daryan rule, it was the only one that united its burning desire for freedom with a progressive vision that would reject the old divisions of ethnicity and faith as well as the Maharaj-in-exile and the feudal past he represented.

By spring 1952, I had realized that Fahim Sir planned to depart his life as a teacher and take to the highlands to wage war against the colonial occupation. I confessed my desire to join him—the Daryan army held no allure for me anymore, and I couldn’t bear to take up any other career when my homeland lay under cruel Daryan rule—and on March 24th, 1952, he led me and three other students into the mountains.

5. The Struggle

The early years of the resistance were so difficult that it would take an entire book to relate them. Living in the highland jungles was difficult enough, surrounded by wild beasts, with heat in the summer and biting cold in the winter. We relied entirely on the kindness and sympathy of local villagers—as Hong Kuo-shu wrote in On People’s War, the guerrilla relies on the populace like a fish relies on water. We made ourselves useful to them through teaching, gathering firewood, and helping with the harvest, while seizing the opportunity to educate them on our struggle for liberation. They reciprocated by sharing their food and warning us in advance of the colonial policemen. We would have never endured without them.

We were barely a hundred men and eight women at first, with only a handful of guns to go around; many of our first operations were raiding rural police stations for arms. These were hard years. One of the three students who accompanied me, whom I knew only as Raihan, died just six months into our struggle, shot dead in a tussle with a policeman. He was the first of many men I’d see die.

Fahim was named the leader of our entire force, which underwent a change of names: from the Andhrapur Front for National Unity to the National Resistance Front. Our movement grew and swelled like a forest fire, subsuming the other resistance groups, and soon there were entire stretches of the countryside where the Daryans had no control whatsoever. By 1955, we had grown in confidence enough to declare ourselves the Republic of Andhrapur, hoisting our flag and making bids for support from the outside world.

The Maharaj, a foolish old man who’d spent the last decade in exile abroad, doing nothing of consequence, chose this time to make entreaties to Fahim and the NRF. He proposed an alliance through an envoy of little consequence, a boy barely older than me who’d hardly known Andhrapur before the Daryan invasion. Fahim turned him away. “Tell the Maharaj we’ll deal with his blood relatives, no one less.”

The Maharaj in exile sent back his cousin, and the negotiations began. Over countless cups of tea in a jungle camp, Fahim and the Maharaj’s man threshed out an agreement. The Maharaj would become the figurehead leader of the resistance, with Fahim as leader of the combined armed forces. There was a ten-point agreement on the future of the nation, with supple vagueties in all the important places. And there was yet another new name for the alliance: the Free Andhrapuri Forces.

On the eve of the signing, I wish I could have warned Fahim to back out. The Maharaj and the homegrown rebellion were incompatible in ways that the ten-point agreement could hardly hide. Our vision for the future of Andhrapur didn’t include a feudal system ruled over by a crowned head, and the Maharaj and his men surely knew it. But at the same time, Fahim was too canny to enter into such an agreement without a plan to come out on top in the end. The image of the Maharaj, he knew, would do wonders in rallying the peasantry behind our banner. And the Maharaj had contacts in foreign capitals our band of rebels could have only dreamed of. On a chilly October afternoon, the accord was signed; the Maharaj and our cause were now bound together.

6. To Victory

The struggle only accelerated once our accord with the Maharaj was signed. The Daryans, after years of relative lethargy, threw their forces into battle against our own with renewed vigor. Columns of armored cars climbed rain-slicked tracks into mountain valleys as aircraft dropped their bombs on the jungles where we hid. The weather and the rugged terrain were our greatest ally; under cover of darkness, we eluded the enemy, traveling sometimes days at a time on meager rations before striking swiftly and then vanishing into the dark.

Our forces grew remarkably over the late 50s. Acts of resistance sprung up across the country; even in Navsari, the heart of the enemy occupation, our fighters made their presence known. We began receiving arms and ammunition from the Laeralites, part of some shadow war their intelligence agents fought against Darya’s. They sent a series of advisors as well, whom Fahim heard out yet never let into his full confidence.

That is, except one. Violette Chakma, an Andhrapuri noblewoman raised in exile, had been sent from Laeral as a liaison to our forces, and she and Fahim grew close. Was there a romance between them, as a theater show now sweeping the stages of Navsari alleges? Perhaps there was, for they would have had plentiful opportunity for it over long nights in adjoining tents in our base areas and bivouacs, but I saw no sign of anything beyond a deep-rooted respect for one another. I, for one, have difficulty imagining General Fahim having space for any love in his breast besides love of country. But it is the case that when Chakma was captured, surely tortured, and executed in October of 1965, Fahim was anguished beyond any way I’d ever seen him.

He rejected any talk of mounting a rescue as foolish, of course. He was too good of a general to do otherwise.

Just six months later, the Coalition landed its soldiers in Darya. A year after that, the last Daryan holdouts surrendered. The empire was gone, and Andhrapur was free.

7. The Vote

It was a moment all had long hoped and dreamed for, one achieved only at massive cost in the tears of heroes and the blood of martyrs. Fahim Rubel Masud, the man who once had been my schoolteacher, now stood astride an entire nation now able to breathe free.

There’s a story that when the old Maharaj first returned to the land he claimed to rule, he was greeted by crowds cheering not his name, but Fahim’s. It was in that moment, the storyteller often adds, that his wicked heart set itself to conspiracy. I don’t believe this story—I think that as soon as the Maharaj heard of Fahim, he craved everything the liberator had as his own. What happened later was already written—we simply didn’t know it yet.

The Maharaj made his way first to his ancestral palace in Lalnipur, where he gathered around him a host of men still loyal to the royal banner, before leading this procession to the capital at Navsari. We were already there, of course, and we had six days’ warning that the Maharaj was advancing on the capital with three thousand men at his back. Whether he meant to parley, to kneel, or to purge us all, we didn’t know.

I remember well the fateful meeting we held, a council of war, in a high-ceilinged room at the old Daryan governor’s palace. The entire provisional cabinet: 11 men, two women. Many of them had served in the liberation struggle alongside us; a handful were newer additions, those who had worked with the colonial authorities yet emerged relatively untarnished.

For the briefest of moments, Fahim and I had the privacy of the antechamber to ourselves just before the meeting was to begin.

“Sir, I wanted to tell you that I will raise the motion to abolish the Maharaj and name you the first President of Andhrapur,” I said. “The council will surely back it, and people will rally behind you. They know who led them to freedom. We have no need to let the Maharaj and his throne endure.”

“You’re not the first to tell me of this,” Fahim said. He may have been about to say something more, but then the other members of the council walked through the door, and the meeting began.

To recount exactly what was said in that meeting over sixty years ago is far beyond this old man’s memory, and I have little desire to slander those who were there, many of them now long dead, by putting words they did not say into their mouths. I and many others argued for confrontation with the Maharaj; while his force was numerous, ours was more battle-hardened, and we could be confident of victory. Having just defeated the Daryans, after all, we felt unstoppable. What is remarkable, and this I remember clear as day, is that Aminul Akther, was among the young hotheads calling for Fahim to declare himself president and kick off a fight with the Maharaj.

Others argued for caution. Some of them were wary of the bloodshed this would surely unleash; skeptical of more war, they argued that the Maharaj could be negotiated into a subordinate position; that shedding more Andhrapuri blood would be a terrible calamity. Some, it is true, were likely sympathizers of the monarchy, who could not stomach taking up arms against the ruler whose ancestors their forefathers for countless generations had worshipped. To them, the Maharaj was Andhrapur. And while the forward-thinking of us shunned this as backwardness, Fahim surely feared that each of their words would be echoed in the hearts of many ordinary Andhrans, and that to declare himself President would tear the country apart. That, I believe, is why Fahim voted the way he did.

I choose not to believe that Fahim Rubel Masud was a coward, that after so much bravery and sacrifice, he shirked from his duty in the moment his country needed him once more. I choose to believe that Fahim, the teacher, the rebel, and the soldier, simply made a miscalculation.

We held a vote: “all those in favor of declaring Fahim Masud as President of Andhrapur?”

I voted yes, of course. Aminul did too. And when the turn came to Fahim, he held out his hands, open-palmed, in the traditional gesture of humility. “I abstain,” he said.

I like to think that in that moment, Fahim meant to rally the undecided councilors behind him. By signaling in that moment that he did not crave power, but would not reject it if thrust upon him, he meant to show that he was a humble man, not a tyrant in the making.

But in that moment, it doomed him. Those wavering saw it as weakness, and the remaining councilors nearly all voted nay, one by one.

We opened negotiations with the Maharaj and his army the next day.

8. Denouement

What happened after that crucial day has been told far better by others than I could retell here. In brief, the diplomats threshed out an agreement that saw the Maharaj returned to his throne and Fahim named as First Secretary, head of the civilian government. The key sticking point was over control of the military; the resulting compromise was distressingly ambiguous in its language.

In these years of fragility, I found myself charged with overseeing the integration of the royalist soldiers and our revolutionaries into a single, united military.

“I need someone I can trust as Inspector-General,” Fahim told me, privately, when he asked me to take on the post. “Someone has to keep the royalists honest.”

As I oversaw rural training camps where our Free Andhrapuri Forces veterans drilled alongside the Maharaj’s men, politics was never far from my thoughts. In these fragile first years of the Andhrapuri Union, I feared that a man like the Maharaj would never be satisfied sharing power with Fahim. Every new program that Fahim’s government announced—restoring the disused Daryan-built factories, the new legal code, land reform—seemed ripe to trigger some kind of reaction from the throne.

As is often the case, the blow from behind is more devastating than the expected blow from the front. March 19th, 1972, two decades after Fahim and I had first fled into the jungle—two of the policemen charged with protecting the First Secretary’s person strolled into Fahim’s office and shot him in the head. It is unknown whether he had any final words.

Within the hour, Aminul Akther sent soldiers loyal to him to seize the radio station and impound Parliament. Fahim Rubel Masud, liberator of Andhrapur, was the sole person to die in that coup. He was only 48.

When the news reached me, hours later, my first thought was that the sinister hand of the Maharaj had put Akther up to this. We would find out decades later, with the testimony of the Maharaj’s private secretary, that I was only half-right: the palace had never thought of using Akther against Fahim before Akther himself reached out, informing the Maharaj of their intentions and asking for their blessing.

Having lived a life defined by ideology, it was hard for me to conceive that someone could turn traitor based off of nothing but jealousy. Fahim likely hadn’t either.

The new First Secretary didn’t carry out the purge of his old comrades that I had expected. Two weeks after the coup, when it had become clear that Akther’s coup was a done deed, I received a missive reassigning me as ambassador to Milintica. This was an exile; the undertone was that remaining in Andhrapur would bring with it far worse consequences.

I was in Milintica, growing more tan in the sun with each passing month of pointless trade delegations and empty, halfhearted galas, when the word came that Aminul Akther—that wretched, traitorous, and above all foolhardy excuse for a man—had paid the price for his own miscalculations. Foolish and unable to rally the public or the Parliament behind him, the palace had struck to install their own man. Soldiers, many of them the same men who had marched on Navsari for the Maharaj after the war, had launched a coup at the palace’s bidding. Aminul Akther met a traitor’s death at their hands a few months later.

And there I was, one of those few still alive who could claim to have truly known Fahim Rubel Masud. Although the faces occupying the role of First Secretary would shuffle frantically over the following years as the Maharaj picked and discarded his favorites, the government in Navsari always took the same view of me: a curiosity, a tie to the old regime both too precious to discard and too worthless to fear. A man in a cage, growing older as my country did, I was marooned in the embassy in Milintica for years and years, where the occasional Andhrapuri traveler whom I hosted for dinner would press me for details on the Liberator I’d known. “Is it true, sir, that you knew Fahim Rubel Masud?”

“Me? I hardly did,” I’d say. “But he was a great man. Greater than any of us still living could ever hope to be.”

I think, often, about the poorer country his death left us—one where the generals are gone but the Maharaj, a new and younger one, remains on his throne; where the dreams of food and health and joy for all are still so very far away. One where every morning I shuffle with my cane past the statue of the Liberator on the street outside my house; the statue I picked because of all the countless ones dotting the capital city, it resembles the man I knew the most.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13361 Sun, 30 Nov 2025 17:48:07 -0600 Laeral]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13361
Monday, Dec 1st: Haesan presents "Flight"
Tuesday, Dec 2nd: LOM presents "Spices"
Wednesday, Dec 3rd: Eiria presents "The Crown"
Thursday, Dec 4th: Greater Acadia presents "Blunder"
Friday, Dec 5th: Slokais Islands presents "The Great War"
Saturday, Dec 6th: LOM presents "Constitution"
Sunday, Dec 7th: Lauchenoiria presents "Flesh and Blood"
Monday, Dec 8th: Laeral presents "The Sea"
Tuesday, Dec 9th: LOM presents "Frontier"
Wednesday, Dec 10th: Greater Acadia presents "Snow"
Thursday, Dec 11th: Slokais Islands presents "Electricity"
Friday, Dec 12th: Greater Acadia presents "Commodities"
Saturday, Dec 13th: Slokais Islands presents "Leisure"
Sunday, Dec 14th: Eiria presents "Cloth"
Monday, Dec 15th: Lauchenoiria presents "The Woman of the Future"
Tuesday, Dec 16th: Haesan presents "The Comedian"
Wednesday, Dec 17th: Laeral presents "Young and Reckless"
Thursday, Dec 18th: Laeral presents "Cherries"
Friday, Dec 19th: Lauchenoiria presents "Tryst"
Saturday, Dec 20th: Eiria presents "The Wedding"
Sunday, Dec 21st: Laeral presents "Abstain"
Monday, Dec 22nd: Haesan presents "False Witness"
Tuesday, Dec 23rd: Slokais Islands presents "The Wise Men"
Wednesday, Dec 24th: Eiria presents "The Angels"
Thursday, Dec 25th: Lauchenoiria presents "Brotherhood/Sisterhood"]]>
Monday, Dec 1st: Haesan presents "Flight"
Tuesday, Dec 2nd: LOM presents "Spices"
Wednesday, Dec 3rd: Eiria presents "The Crown"
Thursday, Dec 4th: Greater Acadia presents "Blunder"
Friday, Dec 5th: Slokais Islands presents "The Great War"
Saturday, Dec 6th: LOM presents "Constitution"
Sunday, Dec 7th: Lauchenoiria presents "Flesh and Blood"
Monday, Dec 8th: Laeral presents "The Sea"
Tuesday, Dec 9th: LOM presents "Frontier"
Wednesday, Dec 10th: Greater Acadia presents "Snow"
Thursday, Dec 11th: Slokais Islands presents "Electricity"
Friday, Dec 12th: Greater Acadia presents "Commodities"
Saturday, Dec 13th: Slokais Islands presents "Leisure"
Sunday, Dec 14th: Eiria presents "Cloth"
Monday, Dec 15th: Lauchenoiria presents "The Woman of the Future"
Tuesday, Dec 16th: Haesan presents "The Comedian"
Wednesday, Dec 17th: Laeral presents "Young and Reckless"
Thursday, Dec 18th: Laeral presents "Cherries"
Friday, Dec 19th: Lauchenoiria presents "Tryst"
Saturday, Dec 20th: Eiria presents "The Wedding"
Sunday, Dec 21st: Laeral presents "Abstain"
Monday, Dec 22nd: Haesan presents "False Witness"
Tuesday, Dec 23rd: Slokais Islands presents "The Wise Men"
Wednesday, Dec 24th: Eiria presents "The Angels"
Thursday, Dec 25th: Lauchenoiria presents "Brotherhood/Sisterhood"]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2482 Mon, 23 Sep 2024 01:41:20 -0500 Democratic Republic Of Eiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2482 Bullets of Democracy: How the Eirian Green Party Lost its Pacifism
By Anija Ravanel, Senator (Green - Jurmala 9)

The history of the National Party of Greens in Eiria is not simple by any measure. Born from the dreams of leftist political philosophers and farm workers alike, the green movement began in the early twentieth century, after our nation endured both political chaos and an awful invasion by Xiomera. The early ideals of our party were lofty, but clear: to design a future where we do not rely on possessions to bring us joy, where we are able to sustain our natural environments and ourselves at the same time, and where a peaceful world is not just possible, but real. Today, the Greens are a large force in Eirian politics, but with a more environmental focus. The NPG is now far away from its peaceful origins. But why?

The early incarnations of the green movement only had the power to influence local governments and the Senates of a few provinces. Outside of the governing coalitions of Serenity and Murdarb Provinces, our movement was widely seen as the shouting of a few activists on the outside of “normal” politics. It did take a few decades, but the seeds sown by the early green politicians bore fruit during and after the Great War. The reality of the second Xiomeran invasion inspired many on the left to dream of a world without war. From that, for the first time, large numbers of local Green candidates had the opportunity to win in national Senate races. Thus, a national Green electoral group was born, titled (rather obviously) the National Party of Greens.

Through the late twentieth century, the NPG used their increasing presence to gain power, particularly with the confidence-and-supply agreements with Rišard in 1970, Mēnjon in 1978, and a spot in the Blajeviča Coalition from 1990-1994. Their pacifistic and environmentally-focused beliefs attracted Progressive and Social Democratic voters who had grown angry with post-war economic reconstruction efforts that involved the exploitation of Eiria’s natural resources. As such, without the Great War, the NPG likely would not have gained national power.

But it was yet another war that started the change in the party’s platform to what we see today. After the political chaos of the Rēvs administration allowed Darrin to take power, the NPG saw itself slowly being pushed out of politics and political spaces by the ruling regime. This caused many activists in the party, who saw the fist of oppression grasping the nation, to rethink their pacifism and join resistance groups. After the war, this resulted in a divide within the Green movement between the “Dark Greens” (those who now believed that some wars are necessary to protect democracy) and the “Light Greens” (who hated the concept of a necessary war).

While the Dark Greens held the large majority of the seats and political power within the NPG immediately after the war, the Light Greens still held onto a small amount of seats for a few elections (despite losing some of their candidates to defections to the Progressives and Socialists). The thing that truly killed the idea of Green Pacifism in Eiria was the Second Xiomeran Civil War. With the rest of the governing coalition jumping at the opportunity to bring democracy to part of the Huenyan subcontinent, the party leadership was quick to declare their support of the military intervention. This act isolated the few remaining pacifists in the party, who either retired (as in the case of Senator Aleksa Relan), defected to the Progressives, or ran under the name of a small local party (Such as non-inscrit Senator Kleman Saliā).

Regardless if you believe that war can be necessary to protect democracy or not, the National Party of Greens saw the very kind of wars that created it change its key values to fit a “new reality.” The party’s platform is now primarily about recreating the Eirian economy in a way that saves our world, which is in line with the original dream behind Green thought. But the idea of a peaceful world has left the minds of many, including our own Green Chancellor. I hope that, in the end, we are right about war being inevitable for peace. Otherwise, we will pay for those democratic bullets and every life they took.


Lōdesei dei Demokratēja: Kō lei Partij Velts dei Eiria Perdasva sal Mērtēcēta
Paur Anija Ravanel, Senatē (Veltē, Jurmala 9)

Lei vestu deile Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei danz Eiria nē es vienkar, nē svara lei merē. Piedzasva deiles revētasei deiles dōmēsei politikcasei dei krōš ut darbēsei dei fermētasei lei paš, lei kenēta velts kōmzasva dans lei sēek duvdenēaš, apre mas nācōn izturasva lei duvs dei hīos politikca ut un anvajacōn šausmi paur Šiōmera. Leis tecētasei akrij dei mas partij nanasaoj auks, bet klirs: Dēzīnat un nakōta kur nē karikam leis amētasei mōs det prēa, kur poivam sutenit mas venirōdesei dabanesei ut mus arvec lei paš mās, ut kur un pasa mērca nē es seul poivaca, bet rēl. Cis dier, leis Veltēsei arana un spek krad danz lei politikei de Eiria, bet konzentrana prablemei venirōdeca plu. Lei PNV es talu dei sal race mērtēca. Bet kāois?

Leis renkarnētasei akrijei deile kenēta velts seul amanasa lei poiv jatekmet parvalētasei lōkusei ut leis Senatei dei daše prōvinzei. Dehara deiles kōalicōnei ku parvalanasa deiles prōvinzei dei Serenety ut Murdarb, dauz dei persei tēcanasa ku mas kenēta nanasa daše aktēsei ku stendanasa dei dehara dei lei politik nōrmal. Nōkanasa daše denadsei, bet leis seklasei ku leis politikē veltsei akrijei danasa līka ut apre Lei Karšēta Krad. Lei situacōn rēl deile duvaš anvajacōn paur Šiōmera inespanasa dauz deile krōš revet un pasa nevec karšēta. Dei cas, kō un lēta naus, dauz krol dei kandēsei veltsei lōkusei amanasa lei espeja uzvat danz leis kandētasei paur Senat nācōnals. Dei cis, un grupa nācōnals dei veltēsei piedzasva, ut toi zauna (treis klirsma) lei Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei.

Vizā deile sēek duvdenēaš tār, lei PNV izasva sal endua danz lei politik ku paplašasvaoj tak poivana uzvat spek, partikalame avec leis apsōlētasei dei atbalit avec Rišard danz 1970, Mēnjon danz 1978, ut un endua danz lei Kōalicōn dei Blajeviča dei 1990 as 1994. Leis balēsei Devacasei ut Demokratēcasei Sōcialsei ku aranaoj faša an leis ešētasei dei renkarnat lei ekonomē apre lei karšēta ku incluasvaoj lei izmanēča deiles resursei dabanesei dei Eiria patanasa leis tēcētasei mērtēca dei NPV ku konzentranasa lei venirōde. Ut tak, neves Lei Karšēta Krad, lei PNV prōbema nē han usvasva spek nācōnals.

Bet cas kuj kōmzasva mānit leis tecētasei dei PNV as ku redam cis dier arana un zitu karšēta. Apre lei hīos politikca dei adminiztēta Rēvs atlaujasva Darrin reklet spek, lei rejem ku vadasva fōrzasva lei PNV dehara dei politik ut leis enduasei politikcasei. Cas kausasva dauz aktēsei dans lei partij, ku redanasa lei dure dei uprimēča turasvaoj lei nācōn, dōmat atkal dei seres mērtēcēta ut pevinat leis grupasei dei resistēča. Apre lei karšēta, cas kreasva un divisōn danz lei kenēta veltca antra leis “veltēsei zōmbei” (kē nag tēcana ku nejam daše karšētasei proteget demokratēja) ut leis “veltēsei lieklei” (kē ienisana lei dōmēta ku nejam karšēta).

Pendar leis veltēsei zōmbei amanasa lei magōrte deiles rakstamsei ut deile piov politikca danza deile PNV imedima apre lei karšēta, leis veltēsei lieklei joprō turanasa daše maz dei rakstamsei pōr daše elērēčasei (Serre depit perdanasa kandēsei ku defektanasa at leis Devacēsei ut Demokratēsei Sōcialei). Tal ku tuasva lei ideja dei mērtēcēta velts danz Eira nasva lei Duvaš Karšēta Civikca dei Šiōmera. Arvec tut dei auts danz lei kōalicōn ku parvalasva kenasva atrijma kā lei espeja atnet as dalja dei lei sukōntinen Nōrduenjaca, leis vadēsei dei partij anoncanasa atrijma seres atbalēta deile intervenēča militārca. Cis aktēta ēasva talu dei leis mērtēcēsei ku palikanasa danz lei partij, kē vaja partanasa dei politik (kō danz lei endua dei Senatē Aleksa Relan), defektanasa at leis Devacēsei, vī kandanasa arvec lei noms dei un partij maz lōku ((kō danz lei endua dei Senatē Kleman Saliā).

Nē svara sē tēcis ku nejam karšēta pōr proteget demokratēja vī nen, lei Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei redasva ku lei paš karšēta ku toi kreasva mānasva sal tecētasei lielasei pōr iderat un “rēlēta naus.” Lei base dei partij nag konzentra renkarnat lei ēkonomē dei Eiria danz pōr sōvet mas pasa, ku idera lei revēta veks vaša dōmētasei veltēsasei. Bet lei ideja dei un pasa mērtēca partasva leis galvasei dei dauz persei, inclua mas Čanceliōr velts. Eserem ku, paur lei jason, aram justi tēcet ku tujes sana nejam karšēta pōr mēr. Sē nē, sana maksam pōr casei lōdesei demokratējaca ut kate dvivēta ku jasonanasa.]]> Bullets of Democracy: How the Eirian Green Party Lost its Pacifism
By Anija Ravanel, Senator (Green - Jurmala 9)

The history of the National Party of Greens in Eiria is not simple by any measure. Born from the dreams of leftist political philosophers and farm workers alike, the green movement began in the early twentieth century, after our nation endured both political chaos and an awful invasion by Xiomera. The early ideals of our party were lofty, but clear: to design a future where we do not rely on possessions to bring us joy, where we are able to sustain our natural environments and ourselves at the same time, and where a peaceful world is not just possible, but real. Today, the Greens are a large force in Eirian politics, but with a more environmental focus. The NPG is now far away from its peaceful origins. But why?

The early incarnations of the green movement only had the power to influence local governments and the Senates of a few provinces. Outside of the governing coalitions of Serenity and Murdarb Provinces, our movement was widely seen as the shouting of a few activists on the outside of “normal” politics. It did take a few decades, but the seeds sown by the early green politicians bore fruit during and after the Great War. The reality of the second Xiomeran invasion inspired many on the left to dream of a world without war. From that, for the first time, large numbers of local Green candidates had the opportunity to win in national Senate races. Thus, a national Green electoral group was born, titled (rather obviously) the National Party of Greens.

Through the late twentieth century, the NPG used their increasing presence to gain power, particularly with the confidence-and-supply agreements with Rišard in 1970, Mēnjon in 1978, and a spot in the Blajeviča Coalition from 1990-1994. Their pacifistic and environmentally-focused beliefs attracted Progressive and Social Democratic voters who had grown angry with post-war economic reconstruction efforts that involved the exploitation of Eiria’s natural resources. As such, without the Great War, the NPG likely would not have gained national power.

But it was yet another war that started the change in the party’s platform to what we see today. After the political chaos of the Rēvs administration allowed Darrin to take power, the NPG saw itself slowly being pushed out of politics and political spaces by the ruling regime. This caused many activists in the party, who saw the fist of oppression grasping the nation, to rethink their pacifism and join resistance groups. After the war, this resulted in a divide within the Green movement between the “Dark Greens” (those who now believed that some wars are necessary to protect democracy) and the “Light Greens” (who hated the concept of a necessary war).

While the Dark Greens held the large majority of the seats and political power within the NPG immediately after the war, the Light Greens still held onto a small amount of seats for a few elections (despite losing some of their candidates to defections to the Progressives and Socialists). The thing that truly killed the idea of Green Pacifism in Eiria was the Second Xiomeran Civil War. With the rest of the governing coalition jumping at the opportunity to bring democracy to part of the Huenyan subcontinent, the party leadership was quick to declare their support of the military intervention. This act isolated the few remaining pacifists in the party, who either retired (as in the case of Senator Aleksa Relan), defected to the Progressives, or ran under the name of a small local party (Such as non-inscrit Senator Kleman Saliā).

Regardless if you believe that war can be necessary to protect democracy or not, the National Party of Greens saw the very kind of wars that created it change its key values to fit a “new reality.” The party’s platform is now primarily about recreating the Eirian economy in a way that saves our world, which is in line with the original dream behind Green thought. But the idea of a peaceful world has left the minds of many, including our own Green Chancellor. I hope that, in the end, we are right about war being inevitable for peace. Otherwise, we will pay for those democratic bullets and every life they took.


Lōdesei dei Demokratēja: Kō lei Partij Velts dei Eiria Perdasva sal Mērtēcēta
Paur Anija Ravanel, Senatē (Veltē, Jurmala 9)

Lei vestu deile Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei danz Eiria nē es vienkar, nē svara lei merē. Piedzasva deiles revētasei deiles dōmēsei politikcasei dei krōš ut darbēsei dei fermētasei lei paš, lei kenēta velts kōmzasva dans lei sēek duvdenēaš, apre mas nācōn izturasva lei duvs dei hīos politikca ut un anvajacōn šausmi paur Šiōmera. Leis tecētasei akrij dei mas partij nanasaoj auks, bet klirs: Dēzīnat un nakōta kur nē karikam leis amētasei mōs det prēa, kur poivam sutenit mas venirōdesei dabanesei ut mus arvec lei paš mās, ut kur un pasa mērca nē es seul poivaca, bet rēl. Cis dier, leis Veltēsei arana un spek krad danz lei politikei de Eiria, bet konzentrana prablemei venirōdeca plu. Lei PNV es talu dei sal race mērtēca. Bet kāois?

Leis renkarnētasei akrijei deile kenēta velts seul amanasa lei poiv jatekmet parvalētasei lōkusei ut leis Senatei dei daše prōvinzei. Dehara deiles kōalicōnei ku parvalanasa deiles prōvinzei dei Serenety ut Murdarb, dauz dei persei tēcanasa ku mas kenēta nanasa daše aktēsei ku stendanasa dei dehara dei lei politik nōrmal. Nōkanasa daše denadsei, bet leis seklasei ku leis politikē veltsei akrijei danasa līka ut apre Lei Karšēta Krad. Lei situacōn rēl deile duvaš anvajacōn paur Šiōmera inespanasa dauz deile krōš revet un pasa nevec karšēta. Dei cas, kō un lēta naus, dauz krol dei kandēsei veltsei lōkusei amanasa lei espeja uzvat danz leis kandētasei paur Senat nācōnals. Dei cis, un grupa nācōnals dei veltēsei piedzasva, ut toi zauna (treis klirsma) lei Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei.

Vizā deile sēek duvdenēaš tār, lei PNV izasva sal endua danz lei politik ku paplašasvaoj tak poivana uzvat spek, partikalame avec leis apsōlētasei dei atbalit avec Rišard danz 1970, Mēnjon danz 1978, ut un endua danz lei Kōalicōn dei Blajeviča dei 1990 as 1994. Leis balēsei Devacasei ut Demokratēcasei Sōcialsei ku aranaoj faša an leis ešētasei dei renkarnat lei ekonomē apre lei karšēta ku incluasvaoj lei izmanēča deiles resursei dabanesei dei Eiria patanasa leis tēcētasei mērtēca dei NPV ku konzentranasa lei venirōde. Ut tak, neves Lei Karšēta Krad, lei PNV prōbema nē han usvasva spek nācōnals.

Bet cas kuj kōmzasva mānit leis tecētasei dei PNV as ku redam cis dier arana un zitu karšēta. Apre lei hīos politikca dei adminiztēta Rēvs atlaujasva Darrin reklet spek, lei rejem ku vadasva fōrzasva lei PNV dehara dei politik ut leis enduasei politikcasei. Cas kausasva dauz aktēsei dans lei partij, ku redanasa lei dure dei uprimēča turasvaoj lei nācōn, dōmat atkal dei seres mērtēcēta ut pevinat leis grupasei dei resistēča. Apre lei karšēta, cas kreasva un divisōn danz lei kenēta veltca antra leis “veltēsei zōmbei” (kē nag tēcana ku nejam daše karšētasei proteget demokratēja) ut leis “veltēsei lieklei” (kē ienisana lei dōmēta ku nejam karšēta).

Pendar leis veltēsei zōmbei amanasa lei magōrte deiles rakstamsei ut deile piov politikca danza deile PNV imedima apre lei karšēta, leis veltēsei lieklei joprō turanasa daše maz dei rakstamsei pōr daše elērēčasei (Serre depit perdanasa kandēsei ku defektanasa at leis Devacēsei ut Demokratēsei Sōcialei). Tal ku tuasva lei ideja dei mērtēcēta velts danz Eira nasva lei Duvaš Karšēta Civikca dei Šiōmera. Arvec tut dei auts danz lei kōalicōn ku parvalasva kenasva atrijma kā lei espeja atnet as dalja dei lei sukōntinen Nōrduenjaca, leis vadēsei dei partij anoncanasa atrijma seres atbalēta deile intervenēča militārca. Cis aktēta ēasva talu dei leis mērtēcēsei ku palikanasa danz lei partij, kē vaja partanasa dei politik (kō danz lei endua dei Senatē Aleksa Relan), defektanasa at leis Devacēsei, vī kandanasa arvec lei noms dei un partij maz lōku ((kō danz lei endua dei Senatē Kleman Saliā).

Nē svara sē tēcis ku nejam karšēta pōr proteget demokratēja vī nen, lei Partij Nācōnals dei Veltēsei redasva ku lei paš karšēta ku toi kreasva mānasva sal tecētasei lielasei pōr iderat un “rēlēta naus.” Lei base dei partij nag konzentra renkarnat lei ēkonomē dei Eiria danz pōr sōvet mas pasa, ku idera lei revēta veks vaša dōmētasei veltēsasei. Bet lei ideja dei un pasa mērtēca partasva leis galvasei dei dauz persei, inclua mas Čanceliōr velts. Eserem ku, paur lei jason, aram justi tēcet ku tujes sana nejam karšēta pōr mēr. Sē nē, sana maksam pōr casei lōdesei demokratējaca ut kate dvivēta ku jasonanasa.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2464 Mon, 19 Feb 2024 15:54:38 -0600 Laeral]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2464
History of Land Use in Laeral: Part 1

During the colonial era, determining possession of agricultural land, particularly in the fertile Eastern Riverlands, Althea, and the Beuvron River Valley, was a central function of government. After the 1807 DeBarre Line was created, marking off the initial bounds of Arrivée settlement, land west of the line was declared property of the ducal government to apportion as it saw fit. Mass land auctions throughout the early 1800s saw gentlemen speculators as the chief beneficiaries. The most fertile land, often irrigated by centuries-old channels and the site of continuous farming for millennia, was parceled into large plantation domains owned by individual highborn households, operated for profit through the production of wheat, tobacco, rice, indigo, tea, or other crops. 

Laws against "squatting" and "vagrancy," leveled against Rén families who sought to remain on their land, carried the sentence of compulsory service as agricultural laborers on the local plantation. The penalty for taking up arms against the state was also often serfdom, often for entire villages or regions, and so by 1845, the dawn of the Laeralian War of Independence, an estimated 900,000 Rén and Metice people were enslaved on plantations. Slavery in the colonial Laeralian context, however, was not an inherited status, although it was a racialized one: those born to enslaved laborers were born free, but Arrivée were never enslaved.

Perhaps 60% of land area—primarily that which had been cleared and was suitable for large-scale agriculture—was parcelled out between plantations. Much of the remaining land, particularly that which was less hospitable for farming, was owned by small farmers, Rén, Arrivée, and Metice alike. Villages served as a site for cross-racial social interactions: marketplaces, smiths, inns, and the like fostered growing linguistic and cultural exchange. This included the emergence of Laeralian Creole, a polyglot mixture of French and Mandarin which would persist among the largely illiterate population until the standardization of language in the Republican era. The taboo against miscegenation was also transgressed more often at the village level, particularly between transient laborers who had migrated away from the growing expanse of plantation land. It was these villages which were rightfully called, if not the cradle of the war of independence, at least its nursery.

For free and enslaved Rén alike, the chief interaction with the colonial state was through corvée, forced state labor for a period of one month each year. Instituted as a means of conducting labor-intensive infrastructure upkeep and construction, corvée occurred on a rotating basis based on birth month, so as to minimize disruption to the harvest; for this reason, the colonial state's register of births are a treasure trove for modern historians and genealogists. The construction of roads was a constant preoccupation of the colonial state, seeing as they were essential for transport of goods and movement of soldiers outside of the navigable waterways (the few railroads built in Laeral during the colonial era, totaling less than 120 kilometers, were built exclusively with Arrivée labor). Typical corvée duties included excavating roads after flooding and mudslides, paving roads, and breaking ground for new roads, although in certain locales corvée labor also built government buildings and waystations. Corvée labor was widely despised: it was backbreaking, all-day work for which any rural Rén man between the ages of 15 and 35 would typically be relocated to a work camp and separated from their families for a four week period annually. Payment was nominal and conditions at work camps poor, with strict discipline enforced at the end of a whip or truncheon.

Cities, chief among them Althea, St. Clair, Marist, and Bethune, offered the greatest opportunities for social mobility. Going to sea or joining a fisherman's crew was one avenue of escape: on the open seas, few cared the complexion of a man's skin as long as his arms were suited for hauling nets or whaling. The cities saw the emergence of the Laeralian middle class, typically merchants or artisans producing goods for consumption by the nobility. The ducal court was well known for its patronage of the arts and its fondness for fine cuisine, while the seasonal migration between Althea and Marist established by Duke Armand meant that thriving artisan communities sprung up in both cities. Factories were established in limited numbers in urban centers (with the exception of Althea, where strict urban beautification regulations forestalled the erection of smokestacks), including textile mills and brick and steel foundries, typically with the patronage of an interested consortium or individual member of the nobility. Migrants from surrounding rural areas were often the only ones willing to accept factories' beastly conditions; the phenomenon of rural migration to the city spurred the creation of Rén fraternal organizations and women's support circles as well as the first labor unions, inspired by examples from abroad. Regardless, by 1848 industrialization had touched the lives of only a bare amount of the Laeralian people. The majority of the population would remain rural and impoverished, as peasant freeholders, sharecroppers, slaves, or migrant workers, until well after the War of Independence.]]>
History of Land Use in Laeral: Part 1

During the colonial era, determining possession of agricultural land, particularly in the fertile Eastern Riverlands, Althea, and the Beuvron River Valley, was a central function of government. After the 1807 DeBarre Line was created, marking off the initial bounds of Arrivée settlement, land west of the line was declared property of the ducal government to apportion as it saw fit. Mass land auctions throughout the early 1800s saw gentlemen speculators as the chief beneficiaries. The most fertile land, often irrigated by centuries-old channels and the site of continuous farming for millennia, was parceled into large plantation domains owned by individual highborn households, operated for profit through the production of wheat, tobacco, rice, indigo, tea, or other crops. 

Laws against "squatting" and "vagrancy," leveled against Rén families who sought to remain on their land, carried the sentence of compulsory service as agricultural laborers on the local plantation. The penalty for taking up arms against the state was also often serfdom, often for entire villages or regions, and so by 1845, the dawn of the Laeralian War of Independence, an estimated 900,000 Rén and Metice people were enslaved on plantations. Slavery in the colonial Laeralian context, however, was not an inherited status, although it was a racialized one: those born to enslaved laborers were born free, but Arrivée were never enslaved.

Perhaps 60% of land area—primarily that which had been cleared and was suitable for large-scale agriculture—was parcelled out between plantations. Much of the remaining land, particularly that which was less hospitable for farming, was owned by small farmers, Rén, Arrivée, and Metice alike. Villages served as a site for cross-racial social interactions: marketplaces, smiths, inns, and the like fostered growing linguistic and cultural exchange. This included the emergence of Laeralian Creole, a polyglot mixture of French and Mandarin which would persist among the largely illiterate population until the standardization of language in the Republican era. The taboo against miscegenation was also transgressed more often at the village level, particularly between transient laborers who had migrated away from the growing expanse of plantation land. It was these villages which were rightfully called, if not the cradle of the war of independence, at least its nursery.

For free and enslaved Rén alike, the chief interaction with the colonial state was through corvée, forced state labor for a period of one month each year. Instituted as a means of conducting labor-intensive infrastructure upkeep and construction, corvée occurred on a rotating basis based on birth month, so as to minimize disruption to the harvest; for this reason, the colonial state's register of births are a treasure trove for modern historians and genealogists. The construction of roads was a constant preoccupation of the colonial state, seeing as they were essential for transport of goods and movement of soldiers outside of the navigable waterways (the few railroads built in Laeral during the colonial era, totaling less than 120 kilometers, were built exclusively with Arrivée labor). Typical corvée duties included excavating roads after flooding and mudslides, paving roads, and breaking ground for new roads, although in certain locales corvée labor also built government buildings and waystations. Corvée labor was widely despised: it was backbreaking, all-day work for which any rural Rén man between the ages of 15 and 35 would typically be relocated to a work camp and separated from their families for a four week period annually. Payment was nominal and conditions at work camps poor, with strict discipline enforced at the end of a whip or truncheon.

Cities, chief among them Althea, St. Clair, Marist, and Bethune, offered the greatest opportunities for social mobility. Going to sea or joining a fisherman's crew was one avenue of escape: on the open seas, few cared the complexion of a man's skin as long as his arms were suited for hauling nets or whaling. The cities saw the emergence of the Laeralian middle class, typically merchants or artisans producing goods for consumption by the nobility. The ducal court was well known for its patronage of the arts and its fondness for fine cuisine, while the seasonal migration between Althea and Marist established by Duke Armand meant that thriving artisan communities sprung up in both cities. Factories were established in limited numbers in urban centers (with the exception of Althea, where strict urban beautification regulations forestalled the erection of smokestacks), including textile mills and brick and steel foundries, typically with the patronage of an interested consortium or individual member of the nobility. Migrants from surrounding rural areas were often the only ones willing to accept factories' beastly conditions; the phenomenon of rural migration to the city spurred the creation of Rén fraternal organizations and women's support circles as well as the first labor unions, inspired by examples from abroad. Regardless, by 1848 industrialization had touched the lives of only a bare amount of the Laeralian people. The majority of the population would remain rural and impoverished, as peasant freeholders, sharecroppers, slaves, or migrant workers, until well after the War of Independence.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2457 Fri, 19 Jan 2024 03:26:47 -0600 Novella Islands]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2457 1 December 2023, 6:59 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Apartment 44/G, Garden Park Tower

The serenity of the cool winter dawn was punctuated by the din of the Partridge household's early morning rituals, echoing about the apartment's walls. As the cacophony of a mother corralling her primary school son threatened to wake the rest of Garden Park, John began his final preparations for the day of work ahead. Latching onto his last piece of toast - generously slathered with edopru jam, as was his own morning tradition - he shrugged on his suit jacket, before yet another noise was added to the symphony of chaos.

7 AM alarm. Time to leave.

Swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, John grabbed his backpack on his way towards the front door; a quick detour to give his wife a parting peck on the cheek, and he was out the door. Stepping out of the lobby of the tower block and onto Felix Street, the unmistakable smell of his lunch wafting through the air caught his attention. The Hanafleuran across the footpath from John recognised him immediately, shooting a massive smile, and beckoning him toward the food stall.

"Mr. Partridge, Mr. Partridge! Good morning to you!"

"And to you, Mr. Sato. My, my, whatever you have for me today, it smells positively divine."

As had been the daily tradition since Kenji Sato had immigrated to the Novella Islands with his family seven years ago, opening the food stall on Felix Street, John fished the empty lunch box out of his backpack and placed it on the benchtop. Beginning to fill it with authentic Hanafleuran delicacies, Kenji began to speak once again.

"I am sorry to say, but I have bad news for you, Mr. Partridge... I will have to close my stall, very soon." A pained expression shot across his face, before returning to his typical starry-eyed cheerfulness. "My daughter, she will study in Hathon! And, I will open a real restaurant!"

Sato had routinely gushed about his daughter and her achievements to John - having mentioned on multiple occasions that she had applied to the Hathon Academy of Medicine - so it came as no real surprise to him. "Excellence deserves to be rewarded, Mr. Sato. I have no doubt she will flourish there, and I wish you luck on your own entrepreneurial endeavours."

Somehow, Partridge's comments only exacerbated the Hanafleuran's wide grin, as he finished boxing up the man's lunch. "Here you go, Mr. Partridge. Eat well!" Packing the lunchbox back into his bag, the Novellan tried to hand over a 1,000 Novelle note - only accepting cash as payment, a peculiar habit the Hanafleuran had retained from his home country - but Sato refused. "For you, my loyal customer? No charge."

After insisting, twice, John knew the other man was not going to back down. Putting the money back in his pocket, before bowing his head deeply in thanks, he set off for the metro station a block away.

"Ms. Gold, Ms. Gold! Good morning to you!" Sato's voice - greeting yet another regular customer - faded slowly into the omnipresent sounds of the city.

---

1 December 2023, 8:30 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Office for the Minister of Social Affairs (Sydney Branch)

Exiting the elevator, John's eyes locked on the only other person on the floor; his junior officer, the diligent office earlybird. "Emilia! Just the person I was hoping to see."

The young policy officer glanced up, giving a slight but polite nod of recognition of her senior, before turning back to her work. "Yes, boss?"

"What's the queue on a Class C tenancy, in the... campus district of Rikal?"

"873," she responded to the non sequitur dryly, not even glancing up from her monitor, nor ceasing in her typing of the report she was presently working on.

"There is precisely zero chance you know that off of the top of your head," Partridge chuckled. Ask a joke question, get a joke answer, it seems.

"Would you like me to look it up for you?"

"No, no." Brushing his junior's all too genuine offer aside, he began walking toward his office, before something sparked his memory. With a heel turn, he continued speaking. "Oh, Em... I do need that agriculture report by the end of the day, though. The Minister is going to be on my back about it, otherwise."

Shaking her head with an apologetic expression and a shrug, Emilia rebutted. "Can't be done. NRO still haven't got back to me, yet." For dramatic effect, and to properly drive her point home, she refreshed her email, before giving him another glance.

John had already begun to walk away once again after her first response, confident she was more than competent enough to deal with it on her own. For good measure, however, he shot back a blow at their bureaucratic cousins. "Prod them again. Let me know by lunch whether it's actually a 'can't be done', or if it's just that the NRO can't be stuffed doing it on a Friday."

"Will do."

Darting between the arriving staff on the now-busying office floor and towards his office, interrupted by the occasional greeting, John finally sat down and booted up his own computer for the day. 31 new emails, 2 meeting reminders, and a call from the Minister in 25 minutes. A little bit of breathing time, before things started to get too hectic for the day; certainly enough to sate his own curiosity. Searching through the government database, in just a few minutes, he found the answer he was looking for...

873.

You can't convince me she's not a Tellarian!

With another chuckle, he opened up the spreadsheet with the list of applicants, and began scrolling.]]> 1 December 2023, 6:59 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Apartment 44/G, Garden Park Tower

The serenity of the cool winter dawn was punctuated by the din of the Partridge household's early morning rituals, echoing about the apartment's walls. As the cacophony of a mother corralling her primary school son threatened to wake the rest of Garden Park, John began his final preparations for the day of work ahead. Latching onto his last piece of toast - generously slathered with edopru jam, as was his own morning tradition - he shrugged on his suit jacket, before yet another noise was added to the symphony of chaos.

7 AM alarm. Time to leave.

Swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, John grabbed his backpack on his way towards the front door; a quick detour to give his wife a parting peck on the cheek, and he was out the door. Stepping out of the lobby of the tower block and onto Felix Street, the unmistakable smell of his lunch wafting through the air caught his attention. The Hanafleuran across the footpath from John recognised him immediately, shooting a massive smile, and beckoning him toward the food stall.

"Mr. Partridge, Mr. Partridge! Good morning to you!"

"And to you, Mr. Sato. My, my, whatever you have for me today, it smells positively divine."

As had been the daily tradition since Kenji Sato had immigrated to the Novella Islands with his family seven years ago, opening the food stall on Felix Street, John fished the empty lunch box out of his backpack and placed it on the benchtop. Beginning to fill it with authentic Hanafleuran delicacies, Kenji began to speak once again.

"I am sorry to say, but I have bad news for you, Mr. Partridge... I will have to close my stall, very soon." A pained expression shot across his face, before returning to his typical starry-eyed cheerfulness. "My daughter, she will study in Hathon! And, I will open a real restaurant!"

Sato had routinely gushed about his daughter and her achievements to John - having mentioned on multiple occasions that she had applied to the Hathon Academy of Medicine - so it came as no real surprise to him. "Excellence deserves to be rewarded, Mr. Sato. I have no doubt she will flourish there, and I wish you luck on your own entrepreneurial endeavours."

Somehow, Partridge's comments only exacerbated the Hanafleuran's wide grin, as he finished boxing up the man's lunch. "Here you go, Mr. Partridge. Eat well!" Packing the lunchbox back into his bag, the Novellan tried to hand over a 1,000 Novelle note - only accepting cash as payment, a peculiar habit the Hanafleuran had retained from his home country - but Sato refused. "For you, my loyal customer? No charge."

After insisting, twice, John knew the other man was not going to back down. Putting the money back in his pocket, before bowing his head deeply in thanks, he set off for the metro station a block away.

"Ms. Gold, Ms. Gold! Good morning to you!" Sato's voice - greeting yet another regular customer - faded slowly into the omnipresent sounds of the city.

---

1 December 2023, 8:30 AM
Sydney, Aqis, Novella Islands
Office for the Minister of Social Affairs (Sydney Branch)

Exiting the elevator, John's eyes locked on the only other person on the floor; his junior officer, the diligent office earlybird. "Emilia! Just the person I was hoping to see."

The young policy officer glanced up, giving a slight but polite nod of recognition of her senior, before turning back to her work. "Yes, boss?"

"What's the queue on a Class C tenancy, in the... campus district of Rikal?"

"873," she responded to the non sequitur dryly, not even glancing up from her monitor, nor ceasing in her typing of the report she was presently working on.

"There is precisely zero chance you know that off of the top of your head," Partridge chuckled. Ask a joke question, get a joke answer, it seems.

"Would you like me to look it up for you?"

"No, no." Brushing his junior's all too genuine offer aside, he began walking toward his office, before something sparked his memory. With a heel turn, he continued speaking. "Oh, Em... I do need that agriculture report by the end of the day, though. The Minister is going to be on my back about it, otherwise."

Shaking her head with an apologetic expression and a shrug, Emilia rebutted. "Can't be done. NRO still haven't got back to me, yet." For dramatic effect, and to properly drive her point home, she refreshed her email, before giving him another glance.

John had already begun to walk away once again after her first response, confident she was more than competent enough to deal with it on her own. For good measure, however, he shot back a blow at their bureaucratic cousins. "Prod them again. Let me know by lunch whether it's actually a 'can't be done', or if it's just that the NRO can't be stuffed doing it on a Friday."

"Will do."

Darting between the arriving staff on the now-busying office floor and towards his office, interrupted by the occasional greeting, John finally sat down and booted up his own computer for the day. 31 new emails, 2 meeting reminders, and a call from the Minister in 25 minutes. A little bit of breathing time, before things started to get too hectic for the day; certainly enough to sate his own curiosity. Searching through the government database, in just a few minutes, he found the answer he was looking for...

873.

You can't convince me she's not a Tellarian!

With another chuckle, he opened up the spreadsheet with the list of applicants, and began scrolling.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2435 Mon, 14 Aug 2023 10:32:04 -0500 Gesthenia]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2435

“Are you ready, Rosa?” Her campaign manager Annabelle Fisher appeared beside her.


“Give me a second please, Annie.” Rosa took a couple of slow deep breaths, cast one last look at her notes and pushed open the door. A loud cheer greeted her as she walked to the microphone. She forced a broad smile on her face and raised a fist. A fresh round of cheers and applause rose from the crowd.


“Well, here we are! I would like to congratulate all my fellow candidates for a well run, if at times tough, campaign. I also extend my profound thanks and gratitude to my campaign team and the thousands of volunteers and activists whose hard and tireless work helped make this victory a reality. Today marks a new chapter in Gesthenia's history. As a nation we have undergone many trials and tribulations in our past. But today we take a step towards putting them behind us.


“Gesthenia is a proud nation made up of proud people. I am grateful and humbled that the people of Gesthenia have entrusted me to guide this great country. I will repay this trust by working for the many, not the few! For too long have the poor, the disenfranchised and most vulnerable members of our society been left to fend for themselves. This must not be allowed to continue. I promise to everyone here, and also watching and listening across the country, to implement a series of comprehensive programs of reform and development, as promised in my manifesto. Something which would not be needed if not for the years and years and years of corruption and incompetence of the previous administration!”


She paused. “I apologise. I sometimes forget I'm not still on the campaign trail.” A smattering of chuckles drifted around the room.


“But on the subject of my predecessor, Mr Anthony Malvern... While I may fundamentally disagree with many of his views and policies, I have found him to be a worthy opponent, a man of strong convictions, both in the Chamber and on the campaign trail. However, like all of you by now, I too have been paying attention over recent months to the accusations and rumours surrounding Mr. Malvern and the activities of members of his government. Therefore, I am announcing that my first act as President will be the formation of a judicial commission into the actions of my predecessor.”


She stepped back from the microphone. There was a moment of hushed silence in the hall. Then the noise started. A cacophony of journalists all shouting questions, a sizeable amount of applause Rosa was pleased to hear and a few angry shouts and boos. Anthony Malvern grasped her hand and smiled for the assembled cameras.“You bitch!” he said.


Rosa leaned down to his ear. “Now, now Tony. You of all people should know the dangers of saying 'unfortunate' things in the presence of microphones.” For a brief moment a look of absolute hatred flashed across his features before he forced a grin back towards the crowd. After a few minutes, Rosa stepped forward and raised her fist in celebration then turned and headed for the steps off the stage. Annabelle, her campaign manager was waiting for her offstage.


“Well, Annie, let's see if they are still calling me 'bland and moribund' in tomorrow's papers now!” said Rosa, and strode off down the corridor.]]>

“Are you ready, Rosa?” Her campaign manager Annabelle Fisher appeared beside her.


“Give me a second please, Annie.” Rosa took a couple of slow deep breaths, cast one last look at her notes and pushed open the door. A loud cheer greeted her as she walked to the microphone. She forced a broad smile on her face and raised a fist. A fresh round of cheers and applause rose from the crowd.


“Well, here we are! I would like to congratulate all my fellow candidates for a well run, if at times tough, campaign. I also extend my profound thanks and gratitude to my campaign team and the thousands of volunteers and activists whose hard and tireless work helped make this victory a reality. Today marks a new chapter in Gesthenia's history. As a nation we have undergone many trials and tribulations in our past. But today we take a step towards putting them behind us.


“Gesthenia is a proud nation made up of proud people. I am grateful and humbled that the people of Gesthenia have entrusted me to guide this great country. I will repay this trust by working for the many, not the few! For too long have the poor, the disenfranchised and most vulnerable members of our society been left to fend for themselves. This must not be allowed to continue. I promise to everyone here, and also watching and listening across the country, to implement a series of comprehensive programs of reform and development, as promised in my manifesto. Something which would not be needed if not for the years and years and years of corruption and incompetence of the previous administration!”


She paused. “I apologise. I sometimes forget I'm not still on the campaign trail.” A smattering of chuckles drifted around the room.


“But on the subject of my predecessor, Mr Anthony Malvern... While I may fundamentally disagree with many of his views and policies, I have found him to be a worthy opponent, a man of strong convictions, both in the Chamber and on the campaign trail. However, like all of you by now, I too have been paying attention over recent months to the accusations and rumours surrounding Mr. Malvern and the activities of members of his government. Therefore, I am announcing that my first act as President will be the formation of a judicial commission into the actions of my predecessor.”


She stepped back from the microphone. There was a moment of hushed silence in the hall. Then the noise started. A cacophony of journalists all shouting questions, a sizeable amount of applause Rosa was pleased to hear and a few angry shouts and boos. Anthony Malvern grasped her hand and smiled for the assembled cameras.“You bitch!” he said.


Rosa leaned down to his ear. “Now, now Tony. You of all people should know the dangers of saying 'unfortunate' things in the presence of microphones.” For a brief moment a look of absolute hatred flashed across his features before he forced a grin back towards the crowd. After a few minutes, Rosa stepped forward and raised her fist in celebration then turned and headed for the steps off the stage. Annabelle, her campaign manager was waiting for her offstage.


“Well, Annie, let's see if they are still calling me 'bland and moribund' in tomorrow's papers now!” said Rosa, and strode off down the corridor.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2421 Wed, 21 Jun 2023 02:35:55 -0500 Doatia]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2421 Chancellor Bernadino's Office
6/15/23
In attendance:
Cori Bernadino - Chancellor - Conservative Party Chair
Shuri Recardo - Vice Chancellor - Environmental Justice Party
Demetrius Clark - Senior Advisor to the Vice Chancellor
Justine Lemarco - Senior Advisor to the Chancellor
Along with various members of the Chancellor's cabinet

"If she isn't here soon, we're going to start without her. This is getting ridiculous" Shuri states, breaking the deafening silence. The only person not in the meeting was the Chancellor. And the meeting is in her office and is about her approach to diplomatic developments in Roucourt and the upcoming Budget Allocation process. Justine, her pale face turning red, struggled to maintain decorum but quipped " I insist that we practice patience. The Chancellor is a busy woman!"

The Chancellor is indeed a busy woman, but today it's her age which has delayed her. An issue that seems to be occurring more frequently.

She struggled to get herself ready this morning. Having to wait for her personal assistant to arrive. They're being transported to her office now, but the delay, and others like it, are angering her allies and adversaries alike. Being uniquely positioned and capable, Cori is at the center of the PLP and is seen as a balance. The more liberal and conservative factions can unite under her leadership. On top of her position as leader of the EJP-PLP Coalition, which represent her unique ability to hold together a historic alliance between the more progressive Enviromental Justice Party and the more moderate Peoples Liberation Party. 

But with recent declines in her general health and mobility, as well as some recent competency questions, many are beginning to doubt her.

Her Coalition Chair counterpart, EJP Chair Shuri Recardo is one of her longest friends and closest allies. Their mentors orchestrated the late 1970's legacy coalition government, which lasted 5 decades. After the first 2 decades of their majority, they passed the baton to Shuri and Cori. Shuri and Cori, taking turns at the helm, had worked together to keep their governing majority for an additional 30 years. But even Shuri has grown frustrated with Cori being late to meetings, falling asleep during debates and votes on the Chamber floor, and at times, general incoherence.

Reports asked her opinion on a proposal from the CP a few months ago to defund Doatia's public healthcare system and establish strict work requirements. Despite being responsible for crafting her coalition's own proposal, as well as sitting through numerous debates, some of which she participated in, she was confused. She couldn't seem to recall the legislation reporters were talking about, despite just leaving a debate regarding the issue. Growing frustrated she told reporters to "leave her alone" and quickly departed, with her aid assisting her by grabbing one arm, and the Chancellor using her cane with her other hand. 

Her staff and some members of her party have condemned criticisms against her, sitting ageism and sexism. They've also said that she's best positioned, considering position, experience, and relationships within the EJP-PLP to be Chancellor. With a PLP member from Doatia's district 12 saying "nobody, and I mean nobody has the combined attributes of 5 decades experience as part of a legendary coalition majority and unique perspectives at preserving the essential EJP-PLP Coalition."
But signs that her grip of control on both the PLP and the coalition is slipping.

With mostly junior members of EJP calling for separation from the PLP, and liberal and conservative flanks of the PLP calling for her resignation. 

*Cori Bernadino's POV* "I'm embarrassed enough as it is at my tardiness. I certainly don't need to sow more doubt". I understand her point, but Tamia does not understand the scrutiny I am under. Keep together the liberal coalition. Lead an effective government, in the minority. And comply with the Queen's rogue foreign policy at a time when the DN, vehemently opposed to liberal foreign policy, which no one seemed to be concerned about, gained a historic number of seats last cycle. 

"I understand. Simply tell them that I was running behind and made you late" Tamia responds. "I am the Chancellor. If i was delayed, I had a reason."

They enter her office. Through the lobby, they can hear the Vice Chancellor yelling. "This is a waste of time. She needs to explain herself" Shuri shouts. "As i already told yo.." Justine attempts. "What you told me is bullshit!! The Chancellor is nearly two hours late!!" Shuri concludes. 

The Chancellor and Tamia enter the room.

Justine and Shuri retake their seats. Cori joines them at the table. Slipping off her heels as she sits, something she normally does. Tamia gets the Chancellor some tea. "Enough is enough, Chancellor. You and I are friends. We understand each other. This is not sustainable" Shuri begins.

A few moments of silence pass.

"I see. Not sustainable? Can you tell me, which of our two parties lost more seats to the Doatian Nationalists?' Cori responds.

"I dont see what that.." Shuri shoots back. "12 seats, Madam Vice Chancellor. 12. You're party are idealists. We know this. But Doatia is firmly center. and despite our progressive roots, shifting more and more conservative. We have to find the balance." Cori asserts.

"And who is the balance? A woman struggling with her basic duties? A Chancellor who falls asleep on the Chamber floor? You may be the balance of the PLP, but the EJP is being weighed down by your party's baggage. Voters see the PLP placation of the right has only worsened our economy. After all, it was your leadership that caused the recession!" interrupts Demetrius, breaking an unspoken rule against nonexecutives from speaking unless spoken to.

"That is a preposterous assertion" argues Justine.

"Point being, this behavior cannot continue Cori, or else, neither can our coalition" Shuri concluded.

Minutes passed. Silence. You could hear the tick of Demetrius's pocket watch, which he kept checking frequently.

Cori swallowed the words of betrayal. She will wait until she has a better hand, before she plays any cards. 

'Very well! The Queen has essentially gone rogue on foreign policy, exercising her authority on the situation in Roucourt well beyond its historically recognized boundaries. Now, not only has she authorized use of DAF ground forces, but she's asking for an investment in WHF as well! If turns into a crisis, its important to distance ourselves somehow" Said Cori. "Well my primary concern is that will wont be able to distance ourselves. None of us in the government. So we must intervene to dial back her authority" Justine adds.

"While Im in favor of rolling back government overreach as much as the next gal, I actually support the Queen's endeavors in Roucourt. Its necessary work, and that means necessary risk. We should surely take steps to safeguard Doatia." Shuri concludes.

"Indeed. We can have our teams look into safeguarding. Without EJP support, we can't pursue limitations of the Queen's authority. Our budget will be announced tomorrow. It has an income of 5 Trillion Doa, and an expenditure of 4.8 Trillion Doa. It has a nearly 200 million Dao surplus, and reducing our debt to 1.5% total GDP. We are going to require CP votes to get anything passed" Cori adds. 

"My office has been working on my allies in the CP all day. Hopefully we'll see some progress soon" Shuri responds.

"My office will do the same. Meeting adjourned everyone!' Cori concludes.

Everyone leaves, excluding Tamia. "Take me to the couch, I am dizzy" Cori exclaims. "Did you take your medicine today? Did you eat?" Tamia stresses. "Yes. No" Cori responds. Tamia supports Cori to the Couch, and dials in the receptionist to order breakfast for the Chancellor. "Oh and Tamia?" the receptionist replies. "Yes?" Tamia responds. "The Doatian Senior General is here to go over today's security briefing with the Chancellor" says the receptionist. "I'll take the meeting Tamia concludes and hangs up the phone.

Cori slept until food arrived, at which point Tamia came in and fed her as she laid on the couch. Tamia also cancelled her meetings for the rest of the day, fielding required engagements to herself, Shuri, or Justine.

Tamia has truly been running the show in the Chancellor's office.]]> Chancellor Bernadino's Office
6/15/23
In attendance:
Cori Bernadino - Chancellor - Conservative Party Chair
Shuri Recardo - Vice Chancellor - Environmental Justice Party
Demetrius Clark - Senior Advisor to the Vice Chancellor
Justine Lemarco - Senior Advisor to the Chancellor
Along with various members of the Chancellor's cabinet

"If she isn't here soon, we're going to start without her. This is getting ridiculous" Shuri states, breaking the deafening silence. The only person not in the meeting was the Chancellor. And the meeting is in her office and is about her approach to diplomatic developments in Roucourt and the upcoming Budget Allocation process. Justine, her pale face turning red, struggled to maintain decorum but quipped " I insist that we practice patience. The Chancellor is a busy woman!"

The Chancellor is indeed a busy woman, but today it's her age which has delayed her. An issue that seems to be occurring more frequently.

She struggled to get herself ready this morning. Having to wait for her personal assistant to arrive. They're being transported to her office now, but the delay, and others like it, are angering her allies and adversaries alike. Being uniquely positioned and capable, Cori is at the center of the PLP and is seen as a balance. The more liberal and conservative factions can unite under her leadership. On top of her position as leader of the EJP-PLP Coalition, which represent her unique ability to hold together a historic alliance between the more progressive Enviromental Justice Party and the more moderate Peoples Liberation Party. 

But with recent declines in her general health and mobility, as well as some recent competency questions, many are beginning to doubt her.

Her Coalition Chair counterpart, EJP Chair Shuri Recardo is one of her longest friends and closest allies. Their mentors orchestrated the late 1970's legacy coalition government, which lasted 5 decades. After the first 2 decades of their majority, they passed the baton to Shuri and Cori. Shuri and Cori, taking turns at the helm, had worked together to keep their governing majority for an additional 30 years. But even Shuri has grown frustrated with Cori being late to meetings, falling asleep during debates and votes on the Chamber floor, and at times, general incoherence.

Reports asked her opinion on a proposal from the CP a few months ago to defund Doatia's public healthcare system and establish strict work requirements. Despite being responsible for crafting her coalition's own proposal, as well as sitting through numerous debates, some of which she participated in, she was confused. She couldn't seem to recall the legislation reporters were talking about, despite just leaving a debate regarding the issue. Growing frustrated she told reporters to "leave her alone" and quickly departed, with her aid assisting her by grabbing one arm, and the Chancellor using her cane with her other hand. 

Her staff and some members of her party have condemned criticisms against her, sitting ageism and sexism. They've also said that she's best positioned, considering position, experience, and relationships within the EJP-PLP to be Chancellor. With a PLP member from Doatia's district 12 saying "nobody, and I mean nobody has the combined attributes of 5 decades experience as part of a legendary coalition majority and unique perspectives at preserving the essential EJP-PLP Coalition."
But signs that her grip of control on both the PLP and the coalition is slipping.

With mostly junior members of EJP calling for separation from the PLP, and liberal and conservative flanks of the PLP calling for her resignation. 

*Cori Bernadino's POV* "I'm embarrassed enough as it is at my tardiness. I certainly don't need to sow more doubt". I understand her point, but Tamia does not understand the scrutiny I am under. Keep together the liberal coalition. Lead an effective government, in the minority. And comply with the Queen's rogue foreign policy at a time when the DN, vehemently opposed to liberal foreign policy, which no one seemed to be concerned about, gained a historic number of seats last cycle. 

"I understand. Simply tell them that I was running behind and made you late" Tamia responds. "I am the Chancellor. If i was delayed, I had a reason."

They enter her office. Through the lobby, they can hear the Vice Chancellor yelling. "This is a waste of time. She needs to explain herself" Shuri shouts. "As i already told yo.." Justine attempts. "What you told me is bullshit!! The Chancellor is nearly two hours late!!" Shuri concludes. 

The Chancellor and Tamia enter the room.

Justine and Shuri retake their seats. Cori joines them at the table. Slipping off her heels as she sits, something she normally does. Tamia gets the Chancellor some tea. "Enough is enough, Chancellor. You and I are friends. We understand each other. This is not sustainable" Shuri begins.

A few moments of silence pass.

"I see. Not sustainable? Can you tell me, which of our two parties lost more seats to the Doatian Nationalists?' Cori responds.

"I dont see what that.." Shuri shoots back. "12 seats, Madam Vice Chancellor. 12. You're party are idealists. We know this. But Doatia is firmly center. and despite our progressive roots, shifting more and more conservative. We have to find the balance." Cori asserts.

"And who is the balance? A woman struggling with her basic duties? A Chancellor who falls asleep on the Chamber floor? You may be the balance of the PLP, but the EJP is being weighed down by your party's baggage. Voters see the PLP placation of the right has only worsened our economy. After all, it was your leadership that caused the recession!" interrupts Demetrius, breaking an unspoken rule against nonexecutives from speaking unless spoken to.

"That is a preposterous assertion" argues Justine.

"Point being, this behavior cannot continue Cori, or else, neither can our coalition" Shuri concluded.

Minutes passed. Silence. You could hear the tick of Demetrius's pocket watch, which he kept checking frequently.

Cori swallowed the words of betrayal. She will wait until she has a better hand, before she plays any cards. 

'Very well! The Queen has essentially gone rogue on foreign policy, exercising her authority on the situation in Roucourt well beyond its historically recognized boundaries. Now, not only has she authorized use of DAF ground forces, but she's asking for an investment in WHF as well! If turns into a crisis, its important to distance ourselves somehow" Said Cori. "Well my primary concern is that will wont be able to distance ourselves. None of us in the government. So we must intervene to dial back her authority" Justine adds.

"While Im in favor of rolling back government overreach as much as the next gal, I actually support the Queen's endeavors in Roucourt. Its necessary work, and that means necessary risk. We should surely take steps to safeguard Doatia." Shuri concludes.

"Indeed. We can have our teams look into safeguarding. Without EJP support, we can't pursue limitations of the Queen's authority. Our budget will be announced tomorrow. It has an income of 5 Trillion Doa, and an expenditure of 4.8 Trillion Doa. It has a nearly 200 million Dao surplus, and reducing our debt to 1.5% total GDP. We are going to require CP votes to get anything passed" Cori adds. 

"My office has been working on my allies in the CP all day. Hopefully we'll see some progress soon" Shuri responds.

"My office will do the same. Meeting adjourned everyone!' Cori concludes.

Everyone leaves, excluding Tamia. "Take me to the couch, I am dizzy" Cori exclaims. "Did you take your medicine today? Did you eat?" Tamia stresses. "Yes. No" Cori responds. Tamia supports Cori to the Couch, and dials in the receptionist to order breakfast for the Chancellor. "Oh and Tamia?" the receptionist replies. "Yes?" Tamia responds. "The Doatian Senior General is here to go over today's security briefing with the Chancellor" says the receptionist. "I'll take the meeting Tamia concludes and hangs up the phone.

Cori slept until food arrived, at which point Tamia came in and fed her as she laid on the couch. Tamia also cancelled her meetings for the rest of the day, fielding required engagements to herself, Shuri, or Justine.

Tamia has truly been running the show in the Chancellor's office.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2362 Fri, 26 Aug 2022 16:53:52 -0500 Lehvant]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2362 Salvation in the Secular Age: Lehvant's Experiment with Community-Building and Spirituality

The following is an excerpt from the introduction of the book of the same title.


The modernization project of the French settlers in Lehvant was defined by a sense of disjointedness. Today, Lehvantians still use the idiom “to be like a Frenchman” to describe situations where someone is operating without any context of a particular environment. 

Even prior to the 1830 invasion of Jezairé, French pressure was the primary driver of modernizing reforms such as the establishment of equal citizenship instead of the former religious hierarchy, more rights and opportunities for women, and banning practices such as the death penalty. 

This state-driven process of reform, however, created an over-empowered state that came to define the beginning of the period of French rule. The highly centralized bureaucracy inherited by the French was especially destabilizing, which eventually led to the establishment of French Lycée systems to facilitate the education and indoctrination of technocrats. 

In the meantime, the erasure of the traditional “scholarly class” from the public sphere and the lack of coherence of the new bureaucratic structure to much of the public, led to the well-connected and well-spoken elderly community leaders of the time filling this vacuum in public life. The fact that these leaders’ spheres of influence were limited to neighborhoods rather than large districts shaped the community-building processes we see in Lehvantian society today.

Unlike the French rulers who implemented their modernization project wearing cultural blindfolds, the first elected President of Lehvant, Mehdi Kamran, was highly cognizant of these nuances while introducing his secularizing reforms. This is why, as the precursor to these reforms, he recruited many of these community leaders to begin introducing community practices and superstitions of good and bad luck that would have previously been shunned for being pagan in origin or idolatrous. One of the examples of these initial experimentations that remains today is burying pomegranate seeds in the foundation of houses to represent fertility and abundance. Especially in rural communities where agricultural production was of particular importance, superstitious burials such as this became increasingly popular.

This is why in Kamran’s visits to rural Lehvant following some of his more hard-hitting reforms, such as the abolition of religious-political authority and establishments from public life, he urged people to turn to the communitarian practices of village life. During one of such visits, a villager pressed Kamran about how he is expected to repent, or if his government is forcing him to live in sin. In response, Kamran took the seeds of the olives he’d been served by an elderly woman, and planted one. Kamran famously then told the villager, “To plant a seed, to feed the earth and make something grow - what, if not this, could cleanse us from sin?”.   

The “sin gardens” popularized by this story have become a staple of spiritual life in Lehvant, where the structure of organized religion has over time been replaced by norms and practices that symbolize and emphasize collective responsibility. 
Such practices have evolved through meditations and interpretations written by scholars and theorized as a communitarian, hyper-socialized form of mysticism. Communitarian mysticism involves the belief that people collectively create their common material-spiritual reality, as an intertwining of dualities or opposites. 
 
In his magnum opus “The Dialectic of Spirituality”, Lehvantian divinity scholar Hugo Azimi writes, “Lehvantian mysticism signifies the prospect of a community which emphasizes labor-sharing as a driver of the common good, balancing each person’s knowledge with the intuitive wisdom of others.”. 
 
Azimi’s socialist reading of spiritual life in Lehvant was a novel approach for its time. Since then, however, an increasing amount of scholars argue that while decentralized, communitarian practices of spirituality were manufactured during the nation’s transition to secularism, it is one of several factors contextualizing the unexpected success of democratic socialism in Lehvant. In a conflict-ridden geography where promises of empowerment for the working class have died quick, violent deaths at the hand of power-hungry authoritarian leaders, Lehvant stands alone as a nation that has lived up to these promises and sustained decentralized, redistributive policies such as workplace democracies and a robust social safety net for several decades. 
 
Spiritual life in Lehvant has become the backbone and fabric of a society where people are governed as partners, not beneficiaries. ]]> Salvation in the Secular Age: Lehvant's Experiment with Community-Building and Spirituality

The following is an excerpt from the introduction of the book of the same title.


The modernization project of the French settlers in Lehvant was defined by a sense of disjointedness. Today, Lehvantians still use the idiom “to be like a Frenchman” to describe situations where someone is operating without any context of a particular environment. 

Even prior to the 1830 invasion of Jezairé, French pressure was the primary driver of modernizing reforms such as the establishment of equal citizenship instead of the former religious hierarchy, more rights and opportunities for women, and banning practices such as the death penalty. 

This state-driven process of reform, however, created an over-empowered state that came to define the beginning of the period of French rule. The highly centralized bureaucracy inherited by the French was especially destabilizing, which eventually led to the establishment of French Lycée systems to facilitate the education and indoctrination of technocrats. 

In the meantime, the erasure of the traditional “scholarly class” from the public sphere and the lack of coherence of the new bureaucratic structure to much of the public, led to the well-connected and well-spoken elderly community leaders of the time filling this vacuum in public life. The fact that these leaders’ spheres of influence were limited to neighborhoods rather than large districts shaped the community-building processes we see in Lehvantian society today.

Unlike the French rulers who implemented their modernization project wearing cultural blindfolds, the first elected President of Lehvant, Mehdi Kamran, was highly cognizant of these nuances while introducing his secularizing reforms. This is why, as the precursor to these reforms, he recruited many of these community leaders to begin introducing community practices and superstitions of good and bad luck that would have previously been shunned for being pagan in origin or idolatrous. One of the examples of these initial experimentations that remains today is burying pomegranate seeds in the foundation of houses to represent fertility and abundance. Especially in rural communities where agricultural production was of particular importance, superstitious burials such as this became increasingly popular.

This is why in Kamran’s visits to rural Lehvant following some of his more hard-hitting reforms, such as the abolition of religious-political authority and establishments from public life, he urged people to turn to the communitarian practices of village life. During one of such visits, a villager pressed Kamran about how he is expected to repent, or if his government is forcing him to live in sin. In response, Kamran took the seeds of the olives he’d been served by an elderly woman, and planted one. Kamran famously then told the villager, “To plant a seed, to feed the earth and make something grow - what, if not this, could cleanse us from sin?”.   

The “sin gardens” popularized by this story have become a staple of spiritual life in Lehvant, where the structure of organized religion has over time been replaced by norms and practices that symbolize and emphasize collective responsibility. 
Such practices have evolved through meditations and interpretations written by scholars and theorized as a communitarian, hyper-socialized form of mysticism. Communitarian mysticism involves the belief that people collectively create their common material-spiritual reality, as an intertwining of dualities or opposites. 
 
In his magnum opus “The Dialectic of Spirituality”, Lehvantian divinity scholar Hugo Azimi writes, “Lehvantian mysticism signifies the prospect of a community which emphasizes labor-sharing as a driver of the common good, balancing each person’s knowledge with the intuitive wisdom of others.”. 
 
Azimi’s socialist reading of spiritual life in Lehvant was a novel approach for its time. Since then, however, an increasing amount of scholars argue that while decentralized, communitarian practices of spirituality were manufactured during the nation’s transition to secularism, it is one of several factors contextualizing the unexpected success of democratic socialism in Lehvant. In a conflict-ridden geography where promises of empowerment for the working class have died quick, violent deaths at the hand of power-hungry authoritarian leaders, Lehvant stands alone as a nation that has lived up to these promises and sustained decentralized, redistributive policies such as workplace democracies and a robust social safety net for several decades. 
 
Spiritual life in Lehvant has become the backbone and fabric of a society where people are governed as partners, not beneficiaries. ]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2151 Mon, 14 Jun 2021 18:43:38 -0500 Sunemica]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2151 The Millpitas Times
[b]Huan Lui, mayor of Lummis announces run to President of Millpitas[/b]
Huan Lui, the current mayor of Lummis, has announced that he will be a candidate for the presidency of Millpitas, for the National Progressive party against incumbent Shui Ma-Meng. Lui won the mayorship of Lummis in 2015 and was reelected in 2019 with 76% of the vote. He is a widely popular mayor, championing education access, healthcare and tax cuts. Political analysts note that his ties to Lummis will help him, as said city holds 61% of the population of Millpitas.]]> The Millpitas Times
[b]Huan Lui, mayor of Lummis announces run to President of Millpitas[/b]
Huan Lui, the current mayor of Lummis, has announced that he will be a candidate for the presidency of Millpitas, for the National Progressive party against incumbent Shui Ma-Meng. Lui won the mayorship of Lummis in 2015 and was reelected in 2019 with 76% of the vote. He is a widely popular mayor, championing education access, healthcare and tax cuts. Political analysts note that his ties to Lummis will help him, as said city holds 61% of the population of Millpitas.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2150 Thu, 10 Jun 2021 11:20:24 -0500 Democratic Republic Of Eiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2150 (A Joint Post with Xiomera)

Chancellor's Study, Geminus

"It's a genius idea, sir, it's just that I don't know if the Milinticans would agree to it." Derek Hale, the Eirian Minister of the Economy, sat before the Chancellor, engaged in discussion. "Their economy is stagnating, but they are socialists and Very hateful of any perceived foreign imperialism. This can't look like we're taking advantage of their money problems."

"I know. If you'd like to draw some drafts, I'll call President Matōchmizalo and ask him." Hale stood, nodding and heading for the door. Lancaster picked up his desk phone. "Could you get President Matōchmizalo of Milintica on the line please?"


At the presidential residence, President Matōchmizalo was working on the planned international introduction of a new Milintican food product when his aide poked his head through the door. “Sir, the Eirian Chancellor is calling and asking to speak with you.”

Matōchmizalo put down his documents, an interested look on his face. When the call was transferred, he quickly looked at a dossier before answering. “Chancellor, good to hear from you. How can the Democratic Republic be of assistance?”


"Mister President, it's a pleasure, as always. And I was hoping to exchange some mutual economic gains, from one Democratic Republic to another. I'm apologize if I'm too prompt or straight to the point, but a trade agreement at this time would be incredibly beneficial to both of our nations. A way to lift both of our economies. Would you and your nation be receptive to a potential trade deal?" The Chancellor kept his tone even and light, a slight accent bleeding through.

”No need to apologize, Chancellor. I have been accused of being blunt many times, but I see little point in beating around the bush. So, I appreciate the directness,” Matōchmizalo replied. “We would be highly interested. What did you have in mind?”

"Well, Eiria has very strong Processed Goods and electronics industries, however, as these markets grow, demand for materials also increased. And while Eiria has plenty precious medals such as Gold and Silver, we border on not meeting demand for others, such as tin, lead, and zinc. And if my information is correct, those are materials that Milintica has."

"So, here's what I propose: We give Milintican companies the ability to sell these needed materials to Eirian companies, and in return, Eirian consumer goods companies get access to the Milintican Market. You can also rest assured that your minerals are being sold to a nation with extensive environmental regulations."

”The assurance is appreciated. Milintica does have certain expectations of the nations we trade with, when it comes to issues like the environment and the treatment of workers. My aides have assured me that Eiria meets our requirements in this regard and would be a well-suited trade partner. We would be happy to agree to such an exchange.” Matōchmizalo paused. “There are certain trade goods we would like to introduce to foreign markets as well, and we would be interested in doing so in Eiria. We’d be willing to partner with Eirian companies that meet our expectations.”

"I don't think you'll have much trouble finding Eirian companies that meet your standards. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of trade goods did you have in mind to introduce to Eirian markets? I can provide suggestions on how and where to do so, if I'm able to know what the products are."

”The products we had in mind, to begin, are some food products that we have produced and sold here in Milintica for years. We have a very environmentally and socially conscious population, and many of our citizens prefer not to eat meat. We offer a variety of products under the MiliMeat brand that could be of interest. They are made of soy and potato proteins, and are an excellent substitute for beef, pork or sausage products. They could provide both a health benefit and an environmental benefit,” Matōchmizalo said. “We’ve been wanting to expand the product line, and Eiria could be a great test market.”

"That's very intriguing. Meat is much less common in Eiria, and as such, it is very expensive. We have a sizeable vegetarian and vegan population as well, so I think those products could be very popular, especially in some bigger cities. What kind of Eirian goods would sell well in Milintica, out of curiosity?" Lancaster asked, grabbing a pen and paper with his spare hand.

”If the cost is right, just about anything you have to offer, really. Consumer electronics and vehicles, in particular, would do well. I would recommend starting with basic, affordable versions as those will do better here. Also, our people would highly enjoy some variety in food and beverage products, so if there are any you think would be a good introduction to Eirian culture, that would probably be a hit here also.”

"Ah, our reputation for alcohol precedes us, I see. Our consumer electronics companies will be delighted, given how much competition there is in that industry in Eiria. And given how much I've dropped my phone without damage, I think you'll be happy with the quality of our electronics." Lancaster joked, donning a light smile.

"I tend to drop the horrible things myself, so I am glad they are durable," Matōchmizalo replied. "I think we have the outlines of a good deal here for both parties, and our aides and such can hammer out the finer details."

"I agree. I'll get my Minister of the Economy working on that right away. I had run the idea past him a little but ago, and he enjoyed the idea, so he'll get right on it." The Chancellor paused, considering how to phrase a question. "Do you think the members of your Legislature would be on board with this plan? I'm not sure how Milintican politics works, and I don't want to put unnecessary strain on your administration." 

”The majority of our legislature is of my party, the MPP. Therefore, it should not be too hard to gain approval at all. There may be a few far-left MPP or PPM representatives who oppose it, but between the MPP majority and the Greens we should have no issues at all. I assume your legislature would also be on board?”

"I believe so. I may have to frame it a certain way for the ModRights to agree, but that's not too hard of a challenge. Perspective is one of the greatest verbal weapons anyone can wield, after all." Lancaster wrote a couple notes on his legal pad. "I'm glad you are as enthusiastic as I am about this opportunity."

”Of course! There will be some who question why I am striking a deal with a capitalist country, but Eiria has a good reputation as far as issues that matter to us. It’s not like I’m trading with Xiomera or Shuell,” Matōchmizalo chuckled. “I think this will be good for both our countries.”

"Agreed. And I'm glad we could serve as a viable alternative to Shuell and Xiomera. Those aren't exactly ideal trade partners. Also, good luck to your athletes in the Olympics! I hope we serve as gracious hosts for the Milintican Delegation."

”Thank you, we’re looking forward to visiting and competing. I am sure your hospitality will be excellent. And we wish your athletes the best of luck as well,” Matōchmizalo replied pleasantly.

"Thank you, I'll extend that to our Athletes. Have an excellent day, Mister President!" Lancaster placed the phone on the receiver, scribbling even more cursive on the legal pad with a blue pen before standing and walking to his secretary. "Could you get this to Minister Hale please, preferably as soon as possible?" He asked, handing her the sheet of paper. Hale certainly has a lot of work ahead of him.

When the call was done, Matōchmizalo sat back with a pleased sigh. The trade deal would shore up Milintica’s struggling economy and relieve domestic pressure on his administration. But it was also a way for Milintica to begin making inroads, however small, with the rest of the world. “Have Tetlalli and his team begin working on finalizing this,” he told his aide, referring to the Minister of Trade. “And have Environment and Development assist them in putting together the press campaign for this deal,” he added. Coming to an agreement with Lancaster had been the easy part. Matōchmizalo now had to sell the deal to his party and to the Milintican people - some of whom would be less than enthused at dealings with a capitalist country. “Call the Prime Minister and have him come by, he’ll need to help me sell this.”]]> (A Joint Post with Xiomera)

Chancellor's Study, Geminus

"It's a genius idea, sir, it's just that I don't know if the Milinticans would agree to it." Derek Hale, the Eirian Minister of the Economy, sat before the Chancellor, engaged in discussion. "Their economy is stagnating, but they are socialists and Very hateful of any perceived foreign imperialism. This can't look like we're taking advantage of their money problems."

"I know. If you'd like to draw some drafts, I'll call President Matōchmizalo and ask him." Hale stood, nodding and heading for the door. Lancaster picked up his desk phone. "Could you get President Matōchmizalo of Milintica on the line please?"


At the presidential residence, President Matōchmizalo was working on the planned international introduction of a new Milintican food product when his aide poked his head through the door. “Sir, the Eirian Chancellor is calling and asking to speak with you.”

Matōchmizalo put down his documents, an interested look on his face. When the call was transferred, he quickly looked at a dossier before answering. “Chancellor, good to hear from you. How can the Democratic Republic be of assistance?”


"Mister President, it's a pleasure, as always. And I was hoping to exchange some mutual economic gains, from one Democratic Republic to another. I'm apologize if I'm too prompt or straight to the point, but a trade agreement at this time would be incredibly beneficial to both of our nations. A way to lift both of our economies. Would you and your nation be receptive to a potential trade deal?" The Chancellor kept his tone even and light, a slight accent bleeding through.

”No need to apologize, Chancellor. I have been accused of being blunt many times, but I see little point in beating around the bush. So, I appreciate the directness,” Matōchmizalo replied. “We would be highly interested. What did you have in mind?”

"Well, Eiria has very strong Processed Goods and electronics industries, however, as these markets grow, demand for materials also increased. And while Eiria has plenty precious medals such as Gold and Silver, we border on not meeting demand for others, such as tin, lead, and zinc. And if my information is correct, those are materials that Milintica has."

"So, here's what I propose: We give Milintican companies the ability to sell these needed materials to Eirian companies, and in return, Eirian consumer goods companies get access to the Milintican Market. You can also rest assured that your minerals are being sold to a nation with extensive environmental regulations."

”The assurance is appreciated. Milintica does have certain expectations of the nations we trade with, when it comes to issues like the environment and the treatment of workers. My aides have assured me that Eiria meets our requirements in this regard and would be a well-suited trade partner. We would be happy to agree to such an exchange.” Matōchmizalo paused. “There are certain trade goods we would like to introduce to foreign markets as well, and we would be interested in doing so in Eiria. We’d be willing to partner with Eirian companies that meet our expectations.”

"I don't think you'll have much trouble finding Eirian companies that meet your standards. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of trade goods did you have in mind to introduce to Eirian markets? I can provide suggestions on how and where to do so, if I'm able to know what the products are."

”The products we had in mind, to begin, are some food products that we have produced and sold here in Milintica for years. We have a very environmentally and socially conscious population, and many of our citizens prefer not to eat meat. We offer a variety of products under the MiliMeat brand that could be of interest. They are made of soy and potato proteins, and are an excellent substitute for beef, pork or sausage products. They could provide both a health benefit and an environmental benefit,” Matōchmizalo said. “We’ve been wanting to expand the product line, and Eiria could be a great test market.”

"That's very intriguing. Meat is much less common in Eiria, and as such, it is very expensive. We have a sizeable vegetarian and vegan population as well, so I think those products could be very popular, especially in some bigger cities. What kind of Eirian goods would sell well in Milintica, out of curiosity?" Lancaster asked, grabbing a pen and paper with his spare hand.

”If the cost is right, just about anything you have to offer, really. Consumer electronics and vehicles, in particular, would do well. I would recommend starting with basic, affordable versions as those will do better here. Also, our people would highly enjoy some variety in food and beverage products, so if there are any you think would be a good introduction to Eirian culture, that would probably be a hit here also.”

"Ah, our reputation for alcohol precedes us, I see. Our consumer electronics companies will be delighted, given how much competition there is in that industry in Eiria. And given how much I've dropped my phone without damage, I think you'll be happy with the quality of our electronics." Lancaster joked, donning a light smile.

"I tend to drop the horrible things myself, so I am glad they are durable," Matōchmizalo replied. "I think we have the outlines of a good deal here for both parties, and our aides and such can hammer out the finer details."

"I agree. I'll get my Minister of the Economy working on that right away. I had run the idea past him a little but ago, and he enjoyed the idea, so he'll get right on it." The Chancellor paused, considering how to phrase a question. "Do you think the members of your Legislature would be on board with this plan? I'm not sure how Milintican politics works, and I don't want to put unnecessary strain on your administration." 

”The majority of our legislature is of my party, the MPP. Therefore, it should not be too hard to gain approval at all. There may be a few far-left MPP or PPM representatives who oppose it, but between the MPP majority and the Greens we should have no issues at all. I assume your legislature would also be on board?”

"I believe so. I may have to frame it a certain way for the ModRights to agree, but that's not too hard of a challenge. Perspective is one of the greatest verbal weapons anyone can wield, after all." Lancaster wrote a couple notes on his legal pad. "I'm glad you are as enthusiastic as I am about this opportunity."

”Of course! There will be some who question why I am striking a deal with a capitalist country, but Eiria has a good reputation as far as issues that matter to us. It’s not like I’m trading with Xiomera or Shuell,” Matōchmizalo chuckled. “I think this will be good for both our countries.”

"Agreed. And I'm glad we could serve as a viable alternative to Shuell and Xiomera. Those aren't exactly ideal trade partners. Also, good luck to your athletes in the Olympics! I hope we serve as gracious hosts for the Milintican Delegation."

”Thank you, we’re looking forward to visiting and competing. I am sure your hospitality will be excellent. And we wish your athletes the best of luck as well,” Matōchmizalo replied pleasantly.

"Thank you, I'll extend that to our Athletes. Have an excellent day, Mister President!" Lancaster placed the phone on the receiver, scribbling even more cursive on the legal pad with a blue pen before standing and walking to his secretary. "Could you get this to Minister Hale please, preferably as soon as possible?" He asked, handing her the sheet of paper. Hale certainly has a lot of work ahead of him.

When the call was done, Matōchmizalo sat back with a pleased sigh. The trade deal would shore up Milintica’s struggling economy and relieve domestic pressure on his administration. But it was also a way for Milintica to begin making inroads, however small, with the rest of the world. “Have Tetlalli and his team begin working on finalizing this,” he told his aide, referring to the Minister of Trade. “And have Environment and Development assist them in putting together the press campaign for this deal,” he added. Coming to an agreement with Lancaster had been the easy part. Matōchmizalo now had to sell the deal to his party and to the Milintican people - some of whom would be less than enthused at dealings with a capitalist country. “Call the Prime Minister and have him come by, he’ll need to help me sell this.”]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2141 Mon, 17 May 2021 22:31:19 -0500 Democratic Republic Of Eiria]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2141 BREAKING NEWS: Tour-Real Riots Leave 17 Dead, Dozens Wounded

The city of Tour-Real was rocked this evening by a city-wide riot, killing and wounding an estimated total of over one hundred. Among the dead are six bystanders, eight rioters, and three police officers. Local police estimate that around a third of Tour-Real's downtown storefronts were destroyed, causing hundreds of thousands of Meras in damage. Additional damage was caused to two major historical sights; the Cathedral of Saint Helene, built in 1816, and the city's namesake, la Tour Royale, where Duke Philippe I, one of the first Laurent dukes, fought against mercenary rebels and lost his life in 1783. 

A group of rioters barricaded themselves in the Cathedral, causing damage to a number of paintings and injuring the Unitist priest and three Cathedral caretakers. We have yet to learn the names of the seventeen dead, but according to the TRPD, over fifty arrests have been made in connection to the injuries and vandalism.

The city is currently on lockdown, with adjacent cities contributing members of their own police forces to help secure the city. The Aurian National Guard has been mobilized to help with security and cleanup, and numerous charity organizations have donated money and manpower to the rebuilding effort. 

Prime Minister Lapointe released a statement around an hour ago, denouncing the riots and other civil unrest starting to break out throughout Auria. "I am shocked and appalled at the barbarity of these riots. I am disgusted that some of my political rivals would support these so-called 'protests'. My heart goes out to the families of those killed."

More information will be published as soon as possible.]]> BREAKING NEWS: Tour-Real Riots Leave 17 Dead, Dozens Wounded

The city of Tour-Real was rocked this evening by a city-wide riot, killing and wounding an estimated total of over one hundred. Among the dead are six bystanders, eight rioters, and three police officers. Local police estimate that around a third of Tour-Real's downtown storefronts were destroyed, causing hundreds of thousands of Meras in damage. Additional damage was caused to two major historical sights; the Cathedral of Saint Helene, built in 1816, and the city's namesake, la Tour Royale, where Duke Philippe I, one of the first Laurent dukes, fought against mercenary rebels and lost his life in 1783. 

A group of rioters barricaded themselves in the Cathedral, causing damage to a number of paintings and injuring the Unitist priest and three Cathedral caretakers. We have yet to learn the names of the seventeen dead, but according to the TRPD, over fifty arrests have been made in connection to the injuries and vandalism.

The city is currently on lockdown, with adjacent cities contributing members of their own police forces to help secure the city. The Aurian National Guard has been mobilized to help with security and cleanup, and numerous charity organizations have donated money and manpower to the rebuilding effort. 

Prime Minister Lapointe released a statement around an hour ago, denouncing the riots and other civil unrest starting to break out throughout Auria. "I am shocked and appalled at the barbarity of these riots. I am disgusted that some of my political rivals would support these so-called 'protests'. My heart goes out to the families of those killed."

More information will be published as soon as possible.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2131 Wed, 03 Feb 2021 00:03:43 -0600 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2131 December 1st, 2020
Haven House

President Matōchmizalo watched with pride as the group of Milinticans marched through the square in front of the presidential residence. Their green fatigues may have had the newly adopted flag of Manauia Island on their shoulders, but the small red patch underneath that flag was what mattered. PFM Manauia Island, the patch read.

On Manauia Island, for the first time, Milinticans had backed up the values they believed in with more than just words. The tiny nation had always demanded that the great powers of the IDU respect peoples' rights, but to no avail. Everyone ignored Milintica, because Milintica never did anything to back up their words.

Manauia Island had shown that Milinticans could do more than just talk about freedom. They could fight for it - and they could win. The comeuppance they had delivered to the Xiomeran Empire had proven that. The newly won freedom of the Manauians proved it.

As the parade to welcome the volunteers back home wound down, the President gave a final salute and walked back inside to begin a planning meeting with his top advisers. The liberation of Manauia Island had been a great accomplishment for Milintica, but Matōchmizalo wanted more. Much more.

---

February 3rd, 2021
Fort Amacatl

"We've completed the final preparations, sir," General Tlehuaque said. "We have begun training volunteers and forming them into cadres. Have you begun considering where they might be sent first?"

"Xiomera, for sure," Matōchmizalo said immediately. "I don't care what Calhualyana's fraudulent elections claim. There have to be Xiomerans who want to be free. The international community may have been duped by the sham she has presented to the world. I am not. We will send the first new PFM there, to continue the fight for freedom in Xiomera and support the underground there."

"And the next cadre?" the General asked.

Matōchmizalo thought for a moment. "Mallacaland, possibly. Once the peacekeepers are withdrawn - and they will be, after the latest debacle - there will be no one to protect the people there. We cannot stand by and allow the people there to be repressed."

The General nodded. "The first two cadres have gathered in the assembly area. I think a speech from you would be great to bolster their morale."

President Matōchmizalo nodded. He hadn't planned to give a speech, but he didn't typically need to.

As he stepped into the assembly area, the volunteers gathered began to cheer. The President smiled and waited for the applause to die down. "Volunteers! You have chosen to stand as the force behind our fight for freedom and democracy throughout the world. Milintica has always been among the first of nations to demand that all people be free, and their right to democracy respected. But our demands have gone unheeded. The great powers allow tyranny to flourish, because they are afraid to confront it. But we are not afraid. And for the first time, we showed that on Manauia Island."

The President pointed to the group of volunteers standing in front of him, their red patches glowing under the lights overhead. "These brave volunteers were the first, and they brought freedom to the people of Manauia Island and defeated the tyranny of the Xiomeran Empire. But they will not be the last. You will follow in their footsteps, and with your own bravery and willingness to sacrifice for what is right, you will help bring freedom to others suffering oppression and cruelty. The tyrants of the world have always ignored Milintica, and our call for liberation. They will be able to ignore us no longer. Our Popular Freedom Militias will stand with those seeking liberation throughout the world, and together, we will bring about a better tomorrow for everyone."

As the volunteers raised their rifles over their heads and cheered, the President raised his own fist triumphantly over his head. Milintica was no great power. But on Manauia Island, they had shown that even they could change the world. The entire IDU would soon see how Milinticans fought for change.]]> December 1st, 2020
Haven House

President Matōchmizalo watched with pride as the group of Milinticans marched through the square in front of the presidential residence. Their green fatigues may have had the newly adopted flag of Manauia Island on their shoulders, but the small red patch underneath that flag was what mattered. PFM Manauia Island, the patch read.

On Manauia Island, for the first time, Milinticans had backed up the values they believed in with more than just words. The tiny nation had always demanded that the great powers of the IDU respect peoples' rights, but to no avail. Everyone ignored Milintica, because Milintica never did anything to back up their words.

Manauia Island had shown that Milinticans could do more than just talk about freedom. They could fight for it - and they could win. The comeuppance they had delivered to the Xiomeran Empire had proven that. The newly won freedom of the Manauians proved it.

As the parade to welcome the volunteers back home wound down, the President gave a final salute and walked back inside to begin a planning meeting with his top advisers. The liberation of Manauia Island had been a great accomplishment for Milintica, but Matōchmizalo wanted more. Much more.

---

February 3rd, 2021
Fort Amacatl

"We've completed the final preparations, sir," General Tlehuaque said. "We have begun training volunteers and forming them into cadres. Have you begun considering where they might be sent first?"

"Xiomera, for sure," Matōchmizalo said immediately. "I don't care what Calhualyana's fraudulent elections claim. There have to be Xiomerans who want to be free. The international community may have been duped by the sham she has presented to the world. I am not. We will send the first new PFM there, to continue the fight for freedom in Xiomera and support the underground there."

"And the next cadre?" the General asked.

Matōchmizalo thought for a moment. "Mallacaland, possibly. Once the peacekeepers are withdrawn - and they will be, after the latest debacle - there will be no one to protect the people there. We cannot stand by and allow the people there to be repressed."

The General nodded. "The first two cadres have gathered in the assembly area. I think a speech from you would be great to bolster their morale."

President Matōchmizalo nodded. He hadn't planned to give a speech, but he didn't typically need to.

As he stepped into the assembly area, the volunteers gathered began to cheer. The President smiled and waited for the applause to die down. "Volunteers! You have chosen to stand as the force behind our fight for freedom and democracy throughout the world. Milintica has always been among the first of nations to demand that all people be free, and their right to democracy respected. But our demands have gone unheeded. The great powers allow tyranny to flourish, because they are afraid to confront it. But we are not afraid. And for the first time, we showed that on Manauia Island."

The President pointed to the group of volunteers standing in front of him, their red patches glowing under the lights overhead. "These brave volunteers were the first, and they brought freedom to the people of Manauia Island and defeated the tyranny of the Xiomeran Empire. But they will not be the last. You will follow in their footsteps, and with your own bravery and willingness to sacrifice for what is right, you will help bring freedom to others suffering oppression and cruelty. The tyrants of the world have always ignored Milintica, and our call for liberation. They will be able to ignore us no longer. Our Popular Freedom Militias will stand with those seeking liberation throughout the world, and together, we will bring about a better tomorrow for everyone."

As the volunteers raised their rifles over their heads and cheered, the President raised his own fist triumphantly over his head. Milintica was no great power. But on Manauia Island, they had shown that even they could change the world. The entire IDU would soon see how Milinticans fought for change.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2125 Sat, 19 Dec 2020 03:17:10 -0600 Xiomera]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2125 (This thread is a continuation of the Xiomeran Chronicles thread, providing behind-the-scenes stories and one-off RP not part of an ongoing RP event. It will provide stories from both Xiomera and Huenya, along with Manauia Island and the Netlcoātl Islands. Although technically not part of Huenya, stories from Milintica may also be posted here as they are related.)

December 9th
Chuaztlapoc

The day after the final battle at Zapotlán, the feeling of most people in Chuaztlapoc was one of overwhelming relief. The Imperial counterattack had been stopped, and the talks to come at Jinyu promised a potential end to the civil war.

While most people were relieved, Cozamalotl was not one of them.

The Huenyan Assembly was having a session to discuss what their stance would be at the Jinyu talks when Cozamalotl walked into the room, Cuetzhual and Natcahuacu in tow. The opposition leader calmly waited as the Assembly members recognized him. "We weren't expecting you, Cozamalotl," Yauhmi said, seeming surprised. "Has something happened?"

"He's gone mad, is what has happened," Cuetzhual snapped. The younger opposition leader looked at Cozamalotl with something akin to exasperation. "He's come here to tell you something, and you need to talk some sense into him!"

Cozamalotl sighed, looking at Yauhmi. "He thinks I've gone mad, but I am quite sane, I assure you."

"That's good to hear, but could you please explain what this is about? We are in the middle of planning for the peace talks," Yauhmi said. Cozamalotl nodded, turning back to the Assembly. "I intend to return to Xiomera to participate in Calhualyana's elections."

Yauhmi looked at Cozamalotl as if he had sprouted a second head. "If you truly don't wish to live any longer, Cozamalotl, there are easier and far less painful ways to commit suicide," she said finally.

Cuetzhual shook his head. "Listen to Yauhmi, you will literally be committing suicide if you return to challenge Calhualyana. The 'elections' she is holding are a sham, just a way for her to cement her power. They will not be real elections; you won't be able to stop her being 'approved' by the referendum she is holding. She will be 'approved' as Empress, and then she will come after you. It is madness for you to return."

"I must agree, Cozamalotl. It is extremely naive for you to embark on this plan," Natcahuacu said. The opposition leader looked at Yauhmi and the other Assembly members. "You cannot let him return."

"We can't stop him from going if he wants to - we're not about to hold him prisoner even to save him," Yauhmi retorted. "I do appreciate that, given that wasn't always the case," Cozamalotl replied dryly. Yauhmi snorted slightly at the remark. "We don't do that.....well. not anymore," she said. "But why do you want to go back? It's surely a futile gesture."

"I do not believe it is. Of course the elections are a sham. Of course I will lose. But someone has to try. Everyone seems to think the fight is over now - even all of you," Cozamalotl said, looking at the Assembly. "It may be over here, but it is not over in Xiomera. People there still deserve freedom, and they need someone to fight for it for them. I will register an opposition political party in her elections, and will argue against her fake referendums on behalf of the Xiomeran people. I will be the opponent that the remaining opposition in Xiomera needs to rally around and fight what Calhualyana is trying to do. She wants to build a system that perpetuates the Xiomeran Empire forever. I can't stand by and watch that happen."

"But you're needed here, to help ensure that democracy becomes a reality in Huenya and that these people live up to their promises - no offense," Natcahuacu said, looking at the Assembly members. "None taken, we do need minding, especially some of us," Sirua, the Itotemoc leader, said with a grin. Yauhmi sighed at the remark, looking up at the ceiling.

"Am I really needed here? There are younger opposition leaders here, who can do what I do. In fact, I would argue that it is time for me to let them do that, and get out of the way," Cozamalotl told Natcahuacu. "You and Cuetzhual are both excellent examples of that, and I trust you to make sure that the promises being made by the leaders of Huenya will in fact be kept. But again, Xiomera deserves the same chance. And Calhualyana can't simply be allowed to push her plans through unopposed. If she accomplishes her vision, Huenya will remain forever divided, Xiomerans will remain oppressed, and the Xiomeran Empire will continue to exist like a dark cancer on the edge of Caxcana. I must do what I can to prevent that. As the most prominent member of the former opposition, before the coup, I am the only one that can rally what is left of the opposition in Xiomera. And if worst comes to worst....I am more expendable, frankly, than the rest of our leadership here. You all have many years ahead of you, Natcahuacu. Myself, not so much." Cozamalotl smiled. "It is really the only logical course of action, at least in this highly illogical situation."

Before Cuetzhual and Natcahuacu could object further, Cozamalotl turned back to the Assembly. "I am leaving today for the border, and hopefully they will actually let me in."

Yauhmi shook her head. "I suppose we cannot convince you otherwise. We will do what we can to help you in your efforts from here, but once you're back in Xiomera....if Calhualyana decides to punish you, we may not be able to save you." Cozamalotl simply nodded, already having accepted that fact. "Good luck, and keep us aware of events if you can," Yauhmi said.

As Cozamalotl turned to leave with the other opposition leaders, another voice spoke. "I thought you were a typical politician, all words and no actions. You're far braver than I realized," Huacue, the Necatli leader, said in what constituted high praise from a Necatli. "I wish you luck. Will you at least let us send some bodyguards with you?"

Cozamalotl thanked Huacue, but declined. "If things don't go well for me, a few bodyguards won't save me, and I don't intend to drag anyone else down with me. Whatever fate has in store for me, I will face it alone."

---

Several hours later
Saclamantón

The customs and border security checkpoint at the main ferry terminal in Saclamantón was busy, even with the civil war barely being on pause. In fact, it was even more busy than usual, between Xiomerans unhappy with the new "Huenyan" government heading east to return to Xiomera proper and Xiomerans unhappy with the old Xiomeran government fleeing west to leave Xiomera for Huenya. But even in the crush of traffic, the arrival of one of Xiomera's most prominent opposition figures back from exile was guaranteed to attract attention.

As a few reporters gathered at the checkpoint, Cozamalotl calmly presented his Xiomeran passport and identity documents to the guards. The guards, clearly not expecting him, hastily called their superiors. As the clock ticked, each person called kicked it further up the chain of command, not wanting to be the one responsible for approving Cozamalotl's return. Finally, the phone rang at the Office of the Golden Chamber. The Attendant transferred the call to the Empress. Calhualyana listened in silence as the situation was explained. After a moment, she chuckled softly. "Let him in. Yes, let him in. Don't arrest him. Let him travel freely and do whatever he likes. But have him watched, and document everything he does all the way down to whenever he takes a crap and for how long. ASI must not miss a single thing he does. And report his actions to me on a regular basis."

The Empress hung up the phone with another soft chuckle. Oh, Cozamalotl. If you really want to hang yourself, I'm more than happy to give you as much rope as you want. I will bury you in rope, if that's what you desire. And then.....I will yank the noose shut.

---

December 10th
Tlālacuetztla

The very next day after arriving back in Xiomera, Cozamalotl arrived at the offices of the Imperial Electoral Commission with a small army of opposition members in tow. Walking into the lobby, he walked up to one of the guards. "We are here to register on behalf of the Unification Party for the upcoming elections."

The guard seemed highly surprised that anyone had shown up to do so; the Xiomeran Citizens’ Party, the party widely seen as being a loyalist party for the Empress, had been the only one so far to actually do so. Another slew of phone calls commenced, before Cozamalotl was led to a nearby office to complete a set of registration documents and pay a sizeable registration fee.

With that, the Unification Party was born. Its platform was simple: end the Xiomeran Empire, unify with the rest of Huenya, and implement a democratic state. While the platform itself was simple, Cozamalotl was by no means blind as to how difficult achieving it would actually be. "This is the first step in a long journey. We don't know how long or hard it will be, or when we will get there. But for our people, we will take those steps," he told his followers outside the Electoral Commission.

As he spoke, there were already several ASI operatives scattered through the crowd, keeping track of things.]]> (This thread is a continuation of the Xiomeran Chronicles thread, providing behind-the-scenes stories and one-off RP not part of an ongoing RP event. It will provide stories from both Xiomera and Huenya, along with Manauia Island and the Netlcoātl Islands. Although technically not part of Huenya, stories from Milintica may also be posted here as they are related.)

December 9th
Chuaztlapoc

The day after the final battle at Zapotlán, the feeling of most people in Chuaztlapoc was one of overwhelming relief. The Imperial counterattack had been stopped, and the talks to come at Jinyu promised a potential end to the civil war.

While most people were relieved, Cozamalotl was not one of them.

The Huenyan Assembly was having a session to discuss what their stance would be at the Jinyu talks when Cozamalotl walked into the room, Cuetzhual and Natcahuacu in tow. The opposition leader calmly waited as the Assembly members recognized him. "We weren't expecting you, Cozamalotl," Yauhmi said, seeming surprised. "Has something happened?"

"He's gone mad, is what has happened," Cuetzhual snapped. The younger opposition leader looked at Cozamalotl with something akin to exasperation. "He's come here to tell you something, and you need to talk some sense into him!"

Cozamalotl sighed, looking at Yauhmi. "He thinks I've gone mad, but I am quite sane, I assure you."

"That's good to hear, but could you please explain what this is about? We are in the middle of planning for the peace talks," Yauhmi said. Cozamalotl nodded, turning back to the Assembly. "I intend to return to Xiomera to participate in Calhualyana's elections."

Yauhmi looked at Cozamalotl as if he had sprouted a second head. "If you truly don't wish to live any longer, Cozamalotl, there are easier and far less painful ways to commit suicide," she said finally.

Cuetzhual shook his head. "Listen to Yauhmi, you will literally be committing suicide if you return to challenge Calhualyana. The 'elections' she is holding are a sham, just a way for her to cement her power. They will not be real elections; you won't be able to stop her being 'approved' by the referendum she is holding. She will be 'approved' as Empress, and then she will come after you. It is madness for you to return."

"I must agree, Cozamalotl. It is extremely naive for you to embark on this plan," Natcahuacu said. The opposition leader looked at Yauhmi and the other Assembly members. "You cannot let him return."

"We can't stop him from going if he wants to - we're not about to hold him prisoner even to save him," Yauhmi retorted. "I do appreciate that, given that wasn't always the case," Cozamalotl replied dryly. Yauhmi snorted slightly at the remark. "We don't do that.....well. not anymore," she said. "But why do you want to go back? It's surely a futile gesture."

"I do not believe it is. Of course the elections are a sham. Of course I will lose. But someone has to try. Everyone seems to think the fight is over now - even all of you," Cozamalotl said, looking at the Assembly. "It may be over here, but it is not over in Xiomera. People there still deserve freedom, and they need someone to fight for it for them. I will register an opposition political party in her elections, and will argue against her fake referendums on behalf of the Xiomeran people. I will be the opponent that the remaining opposition in Xiomera needs to rally around and fight what Calhualyana is trying to do. She wants to build a system that perpetuates the Xiomeran Empire forever. I can't stand by and watch that happen."

"But you're needed here, to help ensure that democracy becomes a reality in Huenya and that these people live up to their promises - no offense," Natcahuacu said, looking at the Assembly members. "None taken, we do need minding, especially some of us," Sirua, the Itotemoc leader, said with a grin. Yauhmi sighed at the remark, looking up at the ceiling.

"Am I really needed here? There are younger opposition leaders here, who can do what I do. In fact, I would argue that it is time for me to let them do that, and get out of the way," Cozamalotl told Natcahuacu. "You and Cuetzhual are both excellent examples of that, and I trust you to make sure that the promises being made by the leaders of Huenya will in fact be kept. But again, Xiomera deserves the same chance. And Calhualyana can't simply be allowed to push her plans through unopposed. If she accomplishes her vision, Huenya will remain forever divided, Xiomerans will remain oppressed, and the Xiomeran Empire will continue to exist like a dark cancer on the edge of Caxcana. I must do what I can to prevent that. As the most prominent member of the former opposition, before the coup, I am the only one that can rally what is left of the opposition in Xiomera. And if worst comes to worst....I am more expendable, frankly, than the rest of our leadership here. You all have many years ahead of you, Natcahuacu. Myself, not so much." Cozamalotl smiled. "It is really the only logical course of action, at least in this highly illogical situation."

Before Cuetzhual and Natcahuacu could object further, Cozamalotl turned back to the Assembly. "I am leaving today for the border, and hopefully they will actually let me in."

Yauhmi shook her head. "I suppose we cannot convince you otherwise. We will do what we can to help you in your efforts from here, but once you're back in Xiomera....if Calhualyana decides to punish you, we may not be able to save you." Cozamalotl simply nodded, already having accepted that fact. "Good luck, and keep us aware of events if you can," Yauhmi said.

As Cozamalotl turned to leave with the other opposition leaders, another voice spoke. "I thought you were a typical politician, all words and no actions. You're far braver than I realized," Huacue, the Necatli leader, said in what constituted high praise from a Necatli. "I wish you luck. Will you at least let us send some bodyguards with you?"

Cozamalotl thanked Huacue, but declined. "If things don't go well for me, a few bodyguards won't save me, and I don't intend to drag anyone else down with me. Whatever fate has in store for me, I will face it alone."

---

Several hours later
Saclamantón

The customs and border security checkpoint at the main ferry terminal in Saclamantón was busy, even with the civil war barely being on pause. In fact, it was even more busy than usual, between Xiomerans unhappy with the new "Huenyan" government heading east to return to Xiomera proper and Xiomerans unhappy with the old Xiomeran government fleeing west to leave Xiomera for Huenya. But even in the crush of traffic, the arrival of one of Xiomera's most prominent opposition figures back from exile was guaranteed to attract attention.

As a few reporters gathered at the checkpoint, Cozamalotl calmly presented his Xiomeran passport and identity documents to the guards. The guards, clearly not expecting him, hastily called their superiors. As the clock ticked, each person called kicked it further up the chain of command, not wanting to be the one responsible for approving Cozamalotl's return. Finally, the phone rang at the Office of the Golden Chamber. The Attendant transferred the call to the Empress. Calhualyana listened in silence as the situation was explained. After a moment, she chuckled softly. "Let him in. Yes, let him in. Don't arrest him. Let him travel freely and do whatever he likes. But have him watched, and document everything he does all the way down to whenever he takes a crap and for how long. ASI must not miss a single thing he does. And report his actions to me on a regular basis."

The Empress hung up the phone with another soft chuckle. Oh, Cozamalotl. If you really want to hang yourself, I'm more than happy to give you as much rope as you want. I will bury you in rope, if that's what you desire. And then.....I will yank the noose shut.

---

December 10th
Tlālacuetztla

The very next day after arriving back in Xiomera, Cozamalotl arrived at the offices of the Imperial Electoral Commission with a small army of opposition members in tow. Walking into the lobby, he walked up to one of the guards. "We are here to register on behalf of the Unification Party for the upcoming elections."

The guard seemed highly surprised that anyone had shown up to do so; the Xiomeran Citizens’ Party, the party widely seen as being a loyalist party for the Empress, had been the only one so far to actually do so. Another slew of phone calls commenced, before Cozamalotl was led to a nearby office to complete a set of registration documents and pay a sizeable registration fee.

With that, the Unification Party was born. Its platform was simple: end the Xiomeran Empire, unify with the rest of Huenya, and implement a democratic state. While the platform itself was simple, Cozamalotl was by no means blind as to how difficult achieving it would actually be. "This is the first step in a long journey. We don't know how long or hard it will be, or when we will get there. But for our people, we will take those steps," he told his followers outside the Electoral Commission.

As he spoke, there were already several ASI operatives scattered through the crowd, keeping track of things.]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2121 Fri, 11 Dec 2020 10:26:00 -0600 Slokais]]> https://idugov.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=2121 The New Right realised a phone call between Slokais PM Joseph Chavez and New Right MP Micheal Spencer.
Hello Micheal"
"What do you want Chavez,"
"Call off your supporters in Southland"
"No, they are not hurting anyone"
"Today, they surrounded the Kaijan Comunity Center and threatened anyone who tried to come in then they beat up an employee in the back alley"
"They are doing their duty to the country"
"No Micheal I fear that things may turn violent, call them off,"
"Never, you will never silence us"
"Please, call them off NOW" he yelled
"NEVER"
"Goddamm Micheal"
"See you later Chavez"
"If you hang up Micheal I swear-"
This phone call prompted many people to claim the Joseph Chavez is unfit to be President if elected on the December 30th Presidential Election.
"He is unfit to lead our, nation," said Jonathan Long another New Right MP
"This phone call should be taken as a wake-up call to Slokais that our PM is not in the right place"
Others argue that he was just expressing his anger at what was going on in Southland
"He has a right to be angry at what is going, on," said Deputy PM Alex Ahmad

Protest in Southland Turns Violent:
New Right protesters stood off with a New Liverpool PD after the New Right surrounded the Kaijan Comunity Center of Southland. There was also an attack on a kaijese businessman in the area that may have been caused by the New Right. Then a masked man stabbed an officer, afterward, a brawl began and was only stopped by an unknown tear gas canister. Both parties retreated back as the New Right though tires at the police surrounding the building. Since then its been quite as attempts to enter the building have been foiled by burning tires. There is now a full-scale manhunt in place for the attacker with the knife.

Conflict in Kaijan grows:
The Kaijan League has stepped up attacks in northern Kascan Township in North Kaijan. They now hold 40% of the Township as well as 7 towns. They also took over some towns are the nearby Allmack Township. There have been rumors that the League has executed a number of Central Government officials within their area of control. They are also running a radio station out of their areas of control.]]> The New Right realised a phone call between Slokais PM Joseph Chavez and New Right MP Micheal Spencer.
Hello Micheal"
"What do you want Chavez,"
"Call off your supporters in Southland"
"No, they are not hurting anyone"
"Today, they surrounded the Kaijan Comunity Center and threatened anyone who tried to come in then they beat up an employee in the back alley"
"They are doing their duty to the country"
"No Micheal I fear that things may turn violent, call them off,"
"Never, you will never silence us"
"Please, call them off NOW" he yelled
"NEVER"
"Goddamm Micheal"
"See you later Chavez"
"If you hang up Micheal I swear-"
This phone call prompted many people to claim the Joseph Chavez is unfit to be President if elected on the December 30th Presidential Election.
"He is unfit to lead our, nation," said Jonathan Long another New Right MP
"This phone call should be taken as a wake-up call to Slokais that our PM is not in the right place"
Others argue that he was just expressing his anger at what was going on in Southland
"He has a right to be angry at what is going, on," said Deputy PM Alex Ahmad

Protest in Southland Turns Violent:
New Right protesters stood off with a New Liverpool PD after the New Right surrounded the Kaijan Comunity Center of Southland. There was also an attack on a kaijese businessman in the area that may have been caused by the New Right. Then a masked man stabbed an officer, afterward, a brawl began and was only stopped by an unknown tear gas canister. Both parties retreated back as the New Right though tires at the police surrounding the building. Since then its been quite as attempts to enter the building have been foiled by burning tires. There is now a full-scale manhunt in place for the attacker with the knife.

Conflict in Kaijan grows:
The Kaijan League has stepped up attacks in northern Kascan Township in North Kaijan. They now hold 40% of the Township as well as 7 towns. They also took over some towns are the nearby Allmack Township. There have been rumors that the League has executed a number of Central Government officials within their area of control. They are also running a radio station out of their areas of control.]]>