A Battle Unseen

[Ligbruderkrieg]

"Crown Street approved." he simply said, taking a slip from his boiling coffee, his eyes looking towards the Evening Standard of last night. "Approved what?", the even more intriguing female individual sitting on his front said with a interrogative tone. "They approved of the Kundrati thing.", he stated with his plane voice.

"Nice. Seems that our worries were less than founded about the new government.", she said, a chuckle escaping from her voice. "So, what are we doing, then?"

"We'll need to talk to Bekenial, as they are the closest to Davostag in terms of both geography and...historically.", he said, a sigh escaping from his lips.

"The HSIS? Nice people, I've met some friends up there. Nonetheless, having a talk with Bekenial about the situation will be a neat positive about this. Continental Kundrati's try at breaking its carefully prepared diplomatic isolation isn't going to work, at least, if we get involved.", she drank a slip of her coffee, Egelian coffee, good quality, although Lourennais coffee is still better in her opinion, she thought, one day she'll actually need to go to both these nations to have a long-awaited vacation.

Unfortunately, these days were not the one where a vacation is due. Quite the contrary, in fact.

"Is Kalistan going to get involved.", she asked, quite puzzled about Kalistan's overall role in this...shitty endeavour. "No.", he answered, "not of my knowledge, that is.", he continued with his plain tone, "while Kalistan has been steadfast in their opposition towards fascism, contacts in the nations and the state media's tone about the question seems to hint towards a Kalistani absence from our machinations, although, Hutori's presence may encourage Kaliburg to re-engage in a more assertive way."

"I see. I quite like Kalistan, their music, their way of life, their women...", she said the last part with a tone that left no one different, maybe one of her charm, who knows, he thought. Agent Ruby was always like this, when women were involved, more importantly, charming women, she just couldn't keep her lesbian thoughts to herself. "Remember that we are in a serious conversation, Agent Ruby." was all he could muster when facing his agent's weird takes.

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware, Mr. Director-General, please, excuse me for having dirtied your mind with the thoughts of lovely Kalistani women or men", she teasingly said.

"Shut up. Just shut up.", an increasingly flustered Crampton could only say that his employee was openly teasing him, and he had a wife for heavens' sake! Taking back his composure and his voice, he said with a calm voice while posing his cup of coffee on the table, "Agent Ruby, you haven't been summoned to my office to indulge in your usual teasing. You've been summoned here with a mission.", he continued, now the Agent's ears were all focused on the elderly man, quite ecstatic at the mere thought of going into a mission.

Taking back her usual cold-hearted serious attitude, she looked at the Director-General with expectations coming out of her eyes. "I'm listening."

"We need someone to run the whole operation and I am confident that you will be the right individual for the task.", he said bluntly. "Agent, you've shown yourself to be quite capable of managing small teams in the past and now is another opportunity to prove your worth.", he added with a hint of a challenge on the Agent's pride on the end note.

"I know my reputation, Director-General. What does that mission entails, exactly?"

Clearing up his throat, he then said "Your mission, at least, yours, will be, alongside a team of spies to go in Kundrati and Davostag to torpedo any form of mutual assistance plan that they might plan in the future, the first location of your mission will be in Davostag, since it's the least dangerous country out of the two. There you'll be helped by the Luthorian Foreign Office and the Embassy of Luthori in Davostag. But.", taking a deep breath followed by a long silence, he took a moment to choose the right words.

"If you accept, the very moment you step into Legionnaire territory, there will be no help, no back-up, nothing. Fort William will expect information and intel about Kundrati, of course, but, still."

"I accept."

"What?"

"I said, I accept. Isn't that answer clear enough for you?"

"Agent Ruby, I must just ask. Why?", worry was clear in the man's voice, he just couldn't understand how a woman, with that much prestige and that much power within the IFIA could just decide to throw it and decide to risk it all on the mission.

"I'm a patriot, and well, I have some grievances with the Kundratis that I need to end."

Staying silent, he listened.

"My father was in Etxea. He was killed, at least that's what the Luthorian Government is saying, but me and my mom never saw the glimpse of his body. My intent is saying to me that the fascists captured him and God knows how, he is Kundrati. Either dead and in a six-foot tomb or...alive..."

"If he was alive, they would have use him as propaganda."

"Yes, indeed. But my dad was pretty stubborn at times and is deeply loyal to that nation, he wouldn't break that easily to people he despises."

"No man is invincible, he surely had a breaking point."

"Maybe. But I'll not be that sure except if I know the truth myself."

"I see. Here is your mission. Godspeed, Agent.", and with that, the imposing and elderly figure of the Director-General faded in the darkness of the Facility, leaving Agent Ruby to her thoughts.

"Godspeed to me, I guess." She sighed one last time before leaving the room where her cup of coffee.

[Augustus]

Undisclosed location in the city of Eliseborg, in the province of Bindeborg, Davostag – January 5633

The office, an inconspicuous and very unremarkable 15 story office building with a poor architecture, brought up for convenience and function, long abandoned and acquired by a small local company dealing with so-called fiskinvesteringar ("fish investments"). In truth, the State Security Bureau's main headquarters in the Bindeborg province and their vanguard office for foreign and regional affairs.

"Please sit, fru Ikander", says a man, probably in his late forties, dark grey intelligence uniform, white shirt, dark tie. He has well kept, brown-blondish hair, discreetly combed back. The room is a grey color, brutalistic in a way, while elegant in its minor details, as long as you can find them. His desk, a very very dark brown color, stylish wood. On either side of him, lit up with floor lights, are two flags made in luxurious material; on the left side the national banner in a pure white field dominated by a black double-headed eagle, while on his right the standard of the Bureau, a dark colored flag crowned by the seal of the SSB. Behind him, slight above, is a portrait of the rikspresident, Gustav Dahler. "You can begin, give me an update."

"Yes Herr Överstelöjtnant, as directed here is the report I've compiled." A woman, physically between 30 and 35, blonde hair, cut short above the shoulders, with grey-blue eyes. Dressed in a black suit jacket and black trousers, a dark grey shirt with a small black pussybow. "Through the trade routes with Kundrati, we have in the past year been able to provide safety for about 35,000 Davostagers. Of course, as you know, our contact with the Kundrati Davostagers has also allowed us to obtain countless informants and type-3 operatives, while our own agents have been able to use the information gained by said operatives to monitor things more closely internally."

"And any news from signals (colloquial for "Signals Intelligence Service")", the man asks.

"I talked with a lieutenant there who only confirmed what we already know, that the task of monitoring the legionaries in the way we want them to is not as easy as it sounds", she paused, noticing the gaze of her superior harden. "Of course, I'll pressure them some more."

"No you won't", he abruptly said. She looked at him confused. "I'll arrange for it myself. It's about time they were brought back in line." He stopped. Circled with his chair so he could look up at the portrait of the rikspresident. "As you know, the great game has just recently begun, and my superiors are pushing men like me to intervene and protect the nation's interests", he turned around to face her. She remained silent, carefully observing him. "You have done good work the five years you've been here at my department."

Still careful, she wasn't sure what to say really. The överstelöjtnant was not known for randomly complimenting his subordinates. "Thank you... Sir".

He began again, "I have been authorized to promote you to captain".

She lit up, or her face tried to light up, her training had made sure she could control her emotions, but she couldn't help herself. "Thank you Sir! I intend to prove the rank's worth"

"Good, because I have a new mission for you", he said. Now filled with pride and determination, she eagerly awaited him to continue. "I want you to gather a new team, pick out whoever you want from any department, not too many of course, only those who you consider will be valuable for your upcoming operations. With that you will be reporting directly to me and only me."

She frowned, thought for a second on what was said, and responded, "I understand Sir, and if I am stopped by the department chiefs?"

"Then you will refer them to brigadgeneral Töller", he said with an authoritative tone.

Now she really frowned, internally of course. Töller? she thought to herself I'm sure I'll be able to get the chiefs to give up their mothers addresses without a moment's hesitation if I simply mentioned Töller. She looked at him, "And what exactly do you want us to do?"

He did not respond, he only observed her, gazed into her grey-blue eyes, allowing the seconds to feel like hours. Finally, he opened his mouth, "With your team, or your new command I should say, you will be joined by a Spezeg ("Special Units Branch") task force that the MUT (abbreviation for "Military Intelligence Service") will provide."

She did not know what to say. Nor what to think really. Töller? Spezeg? She had no clue that the överstelöjtnant trusted her that much. Of course, he was a veteran in the intelligence community, he would not have problems fooling the rest of us. Her main concern was the nature of these covert operations. Though she did not want to ask again, there was probably a reason he did not answer. Her thoughts were interrupted.

"You are dismissed. Return to your station and get to work."

Looking at him, unable to read his face, she stood up. "Yes Sir." She hesitated, "What about this report?"

Unbothered, he circled back to the painting again, "Just leave it, it's not important right now."

"Yes Sir." Leaving the report on the desk, she headed for the door. As she was about to open it he said.

"You'll handle the formation of this discreetly, as you understand. We'll be making history, Josefine."

Never had she heard him say her name, nor has she heard her own name for quite some time. She turned around, meeting his eyes. "Yes, Herr Överstelöjtnant. Hell Dovrige." (Befäska for "Hail Davostag").

[Dredd]

[Etxea Proper, February 5633 ]

Slabodan could barely control his excitement, him and his men had stormed the presidents palace and made it out alive, and now it was time to strike at the heart of the traitor scum that dared side with the rebels instead of joining them. Bombs filled with volatile Sladite, the 1000 degree burning mustard gas made by the Legions finest along with multiple Sarin bombs were deployed in 2 dozen locations. Most of them on the outskirts of neighborhoods and some inside to box them in, 80 paramilitaries and agents deployed around the surroundings with gasmask, gloves, and the best chemically treated clothes they had available, some just soaked them in urine for lack of anything better. They would mow down whoever survived and regroup at their HQ's to load up and find new stakeouts, if this worked they'd be the most hunted freedom fighters in Terra.

Slabodan and his men sat inside the dark abandoned warehouse near their target communicating with them via radio transmitter set up in the back of their UAZ-452, "Captain Slabodan calling in, are all teams in place?"

"Team 1 Dragovich reporting ready"
"Team 2 Mislo Ready"
and one by one, all 10 teams reported ready; assault rifles and grenades prepped, all bomb systems recognizing signals, all cellphone frequencies to IEDS responding. The time had come, they would suffer, the few government offices and police departments nearby would be burning before they could muster anyone to stop their righteous orgy of violence. Slabodan failing to repress a murderous smile toyed with the transmit button before in a spike of adrenaline and dopamine called on the radio, "NOW BROTHERS, DEATH TO THE TRAITORS!!" pushing his detonator. In a series of thundering booms half a mile off he heard them pop off like the stacatto crack of 30 explosions, then he felt the heat, and heard the crescendo of screams, laughing manically he jumped into the drivers seat of his UAZ with his other 7 men slamming the gas as they sped towards the major intersection into the first borough.

Jumping out with gasmasks on and rifles racked, they scanned the first buildings. Women, elderly, off duty soldiers were scrambling away from the aftermath, many with their clothes nearly seared off coughing, some with no hair and many burnt black desperately struggling to breathe. Slabodan cried with fanatical anger and began unleashing full auto into the crowds as they fell one by one screaming and holding their hands up to no avail. Some of the other paramilitaries hesitated before firing, one took off his mask and vomited on the ground which Slabodan smacked with the butt of his rifle rebuking him for his weakness, a few others in the group were in adulation of the brutal killing they were undertaking laughing hands trembling with adrenaline and ecstatic need to kill, even the police cruiser that pulled up beside them coming out with sidearms were shredded by LMG fire from their heavy gunner.

Then soon after expending a few thousand rounds they loaded up into the car and sped off nearly spinning into a ditch in a wild race to get far far away, the rear view mirror showed hundreds of dead with streams of blood running down the sides of the roads and clogging the drains in the concrete. By the end of the day, all other squads reported, about 28 of their 80 men died of return fire, exposure, or got left behind in the race to get away before reprisals soon showed, they knew they had killed thousands and injured thousands more, and many bottles of vodka and songs of sladek were sung at their home bases as they reveled in the union news reporting nearly 3,000 dead and 8,000 wounded, and reported to the mainland.

[Dredd]

[Legionary Training Center 2-(REDACTED) Lirnak Mountains]

Yevgeny and his fellow squad mates had returned to base 3 hours ago and they all had passed their final test. For 4 days without sleep or rest kept awake only by amphetamine pills they had scoured the mountainous forests of Lirnak to chase 20 death row convicts charged with treason, sent into the countryside with a 3 hour head start. They were required to find and eliminate them all coordinating with each other to find them with only basic communication sets and full kits, they returned with with all their inmate tags as proof of the deed, and for their success they were granted their new uniforms.

Yevgeny and his comrades though stoic in face and manners daring not to outwardly show any adulation, internally felt the most intense fulfillment of their lives, each set of armor made from blackened steel plate had the letters L-11 posted to them to signify their new roles as the "Lazar 11", the new bodyguards of the supreme leader who Yevgeny was the leader of, commanding the other 10. Their helmets emblazoned with the title LEGION upon each filled them with pride and they examined them with care, imagining for the moment they had awaited their entire lives

They would finally meet Lazar himself

They had only 1 hour to bathe and prepare, don the armor and report for their last commissariat inspection. They were in formation in half the time, standing shoulder to shoulder in unquestioning obedience and perfect position. The Commissar slowly walked in front of them as the doors to the room opened and the supreme leader himself entered. They snapped their bootheels together and saluted, as the commissar inspected them and had them recite their vow.

"We swear to defend the Legionary party and state to the end of our lives, we pledge to uphold the values of eternal comrade Sladeks vision, to serve to our last breath the defense of the supreme comrade Lazar, to show no mercy to traitors and all who defy his will, and to sow death upon the enemy. Hail, Hail, Hail!"

Lazar slowly approached smiling and told them to stand at ease, all of them in unison obeying. He gazed upon their figures, each standing at least 6'8 and weighing 300lb a man, hulking monsters of muscle and pure steel wrought obedience

"Comrades, my treasured 11, you are the finest men this generation has ever beheld. You, are the future of the New Kundrati Man, I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, all who defy our will shall perish. We leave tonight, I expect you ready to depart in 30 minutes, we are flying to Legionaria where you will accompany me and receive your new quarters. Dismissed!"

The men immediately turned left in unison marching out of the room, Lazar turned to the commissar.

"You've outdone yourself comrade, truly only 11 made the cut?"

The commissar general saluting replied, "Indeed, they are the best of the best. We have however included an additional 500 men into a smaller unit that can be sent wherever you wish, we titled them Brigade NKM and while they aren't as peak in genetic quality as these men, they can be counted among the second finest soldiers in the nation and will serve you unto death. I have had them transported to Legionaria to defend your presidential headquarters, but you are welcome to have them deployed at liberty wherever you wish."

Lazar contemplated a moment and nodded silently, saluting the man and leaving for his helicopter back to his palace.


Yevgeny's past was a distant memory, his sole purpose in life was to kill, to serve, to obey. He would defend Lazar whatever the cost, obey any order, he would die for the Legion.

[Augustus]

In a discreet conference room in the local tax office in Knivby, near the Hutorian border, Davostag – January 5633

Oskar Ivarsson and Tilde Verner, officers from the State Security Bureau with minor stations in two governmental departments.
Ivan Hailxo and Jonathan Ualiev, members from the Office for the Protection of the Constitution of the Kundrati Union.


The four individuals sit down after exchanging pleasantries.

Oskar Ivarsson takes the lead: "As the circumstances have changed a bit, fröken (ms.) Verner and I have been informed of what was discussed at the previous meeting, as I'm sure you were as well. So, let's resume where our superiors left off."

Tilde Verner: "There will have to be quite the extraordinary circumstances for our government to shift our relations with the Legionary regime. As the preceding delegation made clear, we can not ignore the safety of about 1.1 million Davostagers in Kundrati."

Ivarsson: "Unless, of course, you have a solution or plan of action that could bring about such extraordinary circumstances."

Ivan Hailxo: "There may be around a million Davostagers on the mainland, but there are also tens of thousands of Davostagers still in the Free Zone. As a small country of two million, even if a small couple of thousand people leave, we get hit very hard. All we are doing is trying to rebuild and your people have been helping there. Yet as you’ve seen when they tried to blow up our President and massacre many of our own, the callous disregard for humanity they hold is immense."

Johnathan Ualiev: "It is our belief that the attempted assassination of our President was to decapitate our leadership to make an invasion of the Free Zone easier. Back during the Invasion of the Homeland, tens of thousands were killed and slaughtered by war and buildings were knocked down. Nobody could leave, that was the policy of the Legion. Yet here we are now. And we are of the belief that the Legion will not allow anyone to come to the mainland in the event of another war, trapping the few Davostagers with the rest of us in the island."

Verner: "Are the citizens of the Kundrati Union unable to go west, south and east? That is to say, to other countries beside the mainland?"

Ualiev: "What would be the point? We are an island, surrounded on all sides by the sea. The closest point is the mainland. What would be the benefit of risking going west, being caught in patrols, going east far away, or God forbid going south? When all the flights going in these directions are booked, when the ferries are themselves full? We are not like your country, where you have a land neighbor and you can risk walking or running there.
You can easily have millions of people rush for a land border and then it is the problem of that country. But we do not have that luxury. And in war, many will want to leave. Many will stay and fight to their death, many more will want to escape the inevitable destruction of their homes and lives. Unless nations like Luthori step up and bring in as many ferries and planes as they physically can to help, what good will it be to try swimming or using a boat to go anywhere? And why should they if they're seeing nations comply with the demands of a hostage taker?"

Verner: "What I'm trying to say is that are you completely isolated from the rest of the world? Unable to interact with the international community? If that's not the case, the best solution right now to your predicament is to continue developing Etxea into a thriving society and bide your time for the internal unrest of the Legion to bring it down. And Davostag is not overly concerned about the Davostagers under your care, as we trust your government's political judgment."

Ivarsson: "Exactly. And the real question is what the Kundrati Union want from Davostag."

Hailxo smiles. He opened up his notes and begun to speak using his notes.

Hailxo: "It would be unrealistic for us to ask your government to stop supplying the Legion. We know full well what we have to do in the meantime. However, nations lead by example, and while we can always build ourselves up to be one of the biggest economies in our region, all the Legion has to do is strike terror upon our people. You've seen what they've tried to do to Mr. Claudius Nero, haven't you? We don't know what internal unrest the Legion has right now. For all we know, Mr. Lazar and his cronies could be the only people in... so-called Legionaria. Or there could be a coup and we will all be happy with this pest gone before us. I'd imagine Davostag would know more about us about that, we don't hear reports of Kundratis or Davostagers fleeing en masse up north, it would be fair to assume the Legion doesn't have that unrest for now."

Ualiev: "Mr. Ivarsson, I'll probably cut to the chase more than my colleague here. Your public statement of not recognizing us even unofficially has put a major hamper on things. We're perfectly fine with Davostag pretending that there is one Kundrati and not saying which Kundrati is the real Kundrati. We're even fine with you trading with the Legion, after all we understand your predictament. Your colleague said you trust our political judgment. But your leadership, or I suppose your former leadership, made it clear our government doesn't exist in terms of recognition. We'd like for you to make clear, at least to our President, that your leadership will work with us even if it is done quietly. We would also like our businesses to be allowed to operate and seek investment in our territories."

Hailxo: "The latter part may sound strange to you, but if Davostag pretended there was one Kundrati, would it matter which Kundrati you would be doing business to? Or which Kundrati your people would like to go to? The Davostag-Kundrati community in Peghonai, for example, could be paying family back home for their expenses, remittance so to say, why not the Davostag-Kundrati community in Etxea? If they want to escape to Davostag, they should be allowed to no matter what. If they want to spend money at the store, would it matter if they'd pay the Legionary Kuno, or the more trusted Union Kuno? It's clear the Legion relies on you, why not put in some pressure there towards them?"

Ivarsson takes a moment to think about what has been said

Ivarsson: "Our government would not be against a remittance scheme of sorts, and I'm sure we can allow for any Peghonai-Davostager to obtain Union paperworks."

He pauses for a second.

Ivarsson: "And yes, you can tell your president that we will maintain communications with the Kundrati Union. Perhaps Bekenial could serve as a good meeting point for future meetings rather than this inconvenient place."

Hailxo smiles and takes down some notes.

Hailxo: "I agree. In exchange we will pretend that your recognition of the Legion didn't happen. We have an open door policy on immigration, so any Davostager that would like to head to the Union can do so easily. If you wish we can open an office in Davostag for this purpose, of course with necessary disguises in case of complaint."

Hailxo pauses for a moment as well.

Hailxo: "I will let my President know that we can continue communications via Bekenial."

Ivarsson nods in approval.

Verner: "Good, seems like we've made progress then. An office can be arranged, I suppose we'd suggest one in Eliseborg, on our most southern island, where there is a strong intelligence presence. We can easily keep in contact there."

Ivarsson: "Indeed. And on top of that, let's establish a connection between ours and Etxea's intelligence services through that office, seeing as the region is currently enflamed in a full-scale spy war. At least from our intel." Saying the last part with a smirk and wink.

Ualiev smiles and chuckles.

Ualiev: "These are good terms. We'd be happy to agree to those. The office in Eliseborg should be good for us as well."

Ivarsson: "Good. Should we consider this meeting done then? Unless there is something else we need bring up? Otherwise, next time we'll meet in Eliseborg."

Hailxo: "I believe we are at an end. Thank you both. We shall meet again."

And the meeting is concluded.

[Doc]

Cliff Offices, Wilson Hill, Kaliburg, 2:30pm, April 4

The Empress entered the disused office that used to serve as the Personal Offices of the Emperor.  She was greeted by her new Chancellor of the Empire, Sir Michael Koenig, whom she had knighted only two months previous so he perform the duties of Chancellor of the Empire correctly.  Upon her entry, he snapped to his feet and bowed his head slightly as the Empress, who was in a tear moved effortlessly past him to the other side of the desk and sat down in the old leather chair that had belonged to her father.  The normally cluttered desk was bare, as all her work was in Eveari, where she usually was.  She had just returned from the National Assembly, where she had ordered assistance for Etxea and announced her new diplomatic initiative to Valruzia.

"What the absolute f--k was that?" she demanded without even inviting the Chancellor to be seated.

"Madame, that was the National Assembly," said the Chancellor with his head still bowed and his eyes still averted.

"My god, have they no sense of..." she stopped short.  "Mr Koenig, why in the world are you still standing?"

"Your Imperial Majesty has not invited me to retake my seat," he said in a low, humble voice that was not accusatory, but merely reminding her of the protocol.  The Chancellor was surprised at her:  Any other Ananto would not have even asked him why he remained on his feet.  He thought this question was a perfect demonstration of the new Empress' inexperience.  But he remained silent.

"Oh for Eliyon's sake, sit down, please..." she said in an exasperated tone.  The Chancellor retook his seat quickly and sat straight up.  His brief experience of this girl was that she was erratic and entitled--He had his job because she flew off the handle at his predecessor upon taking her throne for mentioning the cost of her dress to the press, so he was not sure how to approach her and was not comfortable around her.  "She's rough," he thought.  "So rough perhaps that it might take more polish than there is in the world to work out her edges."

"Well?" she said.

After a pause, the Chancellor asked "Well, what, Your Imperial Majesty?"

"Is the National Assembly always so unruly, or just when a girl stands in front of them?"

"No Madame," the Chancellor answered honestly.  He may be in his early 30s, but he had served for two terms as a Deputy, and he said he had never seen them do that.  "The debates on the floor can be heated, but this was out of the ordinary."

"Then why do you think they would do that to us?"

The Chancellor paused a moment.  Collecting his thoughts, he started, and then stopped again.  "Madame, I believe they are testing you.  They want to see what sort of ruler you will be."  The Empress sat back in her chair and sized up the Chancellor.

"You, Sir, are their leader.  How would they take it if we made an example of you?"

"With obvious deference to my own health and my political future, Your Imperial Majesty, I would appreciate it if you did not do that."

"And why not, Mr. Koenig?" the Empress demanded.

"Respectfully, I do not think making an example of me will have the effect you may think it will."

"No?" said the Empress.  "We think it will have exactly the effect that we seek.  It would send a message to your Caucus about the dangers of crossing us, especially in public like that."

"Madame, if I may caution a more moderate course instead, perhaps you give my Party Leadership the opportunity to attempt to discipline our members first.  The Institutional Party exists to do your bidding, and to give you advice that they think will be helpful in making decisions.  This doesn't mean that they will just go along with you, especially if they have genuine reservations.  I can give Your Imperial Majesty a majority for anything you want--You merely need to say the word and it is done.  But there will be opposition to policies that are genuinely unpopular, and some will voice that opposition, because when the decision is already made, the vote is merely a formality.  Once we get to 40 votes for anything, every other vote is a free vote:  79-0 is the same as 40-39..."

Fearing he had presumed too much, the Chancellor paused, and waited for a response from the Empress.  Seeing that she made no effort to interject, he continued, "These Deputies see themselves not as your drones, but their constituents' representatives to you.  That said, it is not my place to teach you civics--I offer this only as a gentle reminder that sometimes they may take a while to warm up to you, Your Imperial Majesty.  It is a new experience for you, and you are a new experience for them."

The Empress considered the Chancellor's words.  She realized that the Chancellor had placed his own neck on the chopping block in speaking up just now, and was prepared to allow her to swing her axe if she intended.  And yet, he sounded a lot like her aunt in that moment--Lady Michelle may have said the same thing.  She would not chop off his head this time.

"Mr. Koenig," she began after a deep breath.  "We will have that aid to Etxea one way or another, and it is your charge to see to it, and to go beyond what even we sought on the Floor.  But as you see, our Aunt has returned to Dulnerstaad, as we agreed.  She served as our mentor, but we could no longer justifiably detain her once her formal service to us was completed.  Would you be willing to travel to Eveari when your session is over and talk with us for a while about the members of your Party?  There is so much that was left undone when our father passed before his time, and we are daily learning just how much we do not know.  If you could prepare for us a brief about the factions in the Institutional Party that will help us the next time we go before them to speak, and perhaps advise us on how to avoid this sort of performance in the future, we would be appreciative."

"You may count on me, Your Imperial Majesty."

"And we shall add:  Discipline your Party," the Empress added.  "There is Protocol and there is Lese-Majestie.  Whether it is warranted or not, we ought not have to tolerate such blatant disrespect and lack of decorum.  Our youth and our inexperience does not trump our Title, and if not our person, we will have the Crown respected and deferred to on all occasions, even in disagreement, and by even the highest potentate in Terra.  Our every utterance is law, and as such, there are consequences that must be paid.  If we ought not make an example of you, but instead shall allow you to continue to serve us, we hope that you make this fact unmistakably clear to your members."

The Chancellor's mouth went dry.  The Empress was correct to feel disrespected.  And the Chancellor understood her to mean that she intended him to mete out the consequences for that disrespect, since he had opted to not take those consequences himself.  After all, the unspoken message was that she held him personally responsible for the behavior of the Institutional Party members during the speech on the floor of the National Assembly, and though it was not planned, failure to whip the Party's members was a failure to do one of the basic jobs of a Party Leader.

"I understand and will comply, Dread Mistress."

"We shall then look for your arrival in Eveari."

"Thank you Madame.  I will arrive tomorrow by noon."

"Very well, Sir.  Look to your work.  You may go now."  Chancellor of the Empire Koenig rose, bowed his head slightly and backed away from the desk, closing the door behind him.  His day had just gotten significantly longer, and he would be losing several Party members before the day was over.

[Doc]

Cliff House, Wilson Hill, June 20 5633, 7:30 pm

"Happy Birthday Mary!" said Monica DeLaurentis as Mary arrived at her childhood home on the cliffs overlooking Wilson's Gate in Kaliburg.  "To celebrate, I bought a cake, and we can watch movies and have tacos!"

"Do you have any tofu?" asked Mary.

"Tofu?" Monica asked.  "We don't eat tofu on tacos.  Why would we do that?"

"Mom, I don't know how many times I have to tell you.  I am a vegetarian.  I don't eat beef."

"You're a vegetarian?  Since when?" Monica asked with a laugh.  

"Since I was like 15 years old, Mom," said Mary as she threw her hands out.  She couldn't believe that her mother had forgotten that yet again.  "Honestly, mom, it almost feels like you don't listen to me at all..."

"I never knew you were a vegetarian.  You never told me that..."

"Mother I told you a hundred times."  Mary felt her temperature rising a little.  She knew she's had this very conversation with her mother before.

"Well, I don't recall that."  her mother said indignantly.

"You don't recall it mom, because it was never important to you.  I don't eat meat because I don't like the idea of killing animals for food.  I'm not like you.  I don't eat steaks.  I don't eat chicken.  It's not good for you.  You shouldn't eat it either.  If I had my way, nobody would."

"It's a good thing you don't have your way," Monica said, miffed that her daughter had put the kabosh to her plans for a fun birthday surprise.  "Look just forget the tacos.  I'm sorry I tried to do something nice for your birthday.  Your little girl only turns 23 once.  I thought it would be nice.  I was wrong."

"Please mother, I am not a little girl," Mary said, mumbling.  Her mother had taken to guilt tripping her more since Mary's father had passed away, and Mary really resented it.

"Yeah," said Monica.  "That's certain.  I've barely seen you since you actually were a little girl.  You basically moved out of the house when you were 15 and went to live outside.  And now...  you just...  you don't even visit me anymore.  You, your father, your sister...  all gone...  I...  I really miss you, Mary...  I just..."

"Oh please mother.  Don't do this.  It's not my fault dad isn't alive anymore.  If he still was here, I might be in college now...  instead of working all the time..."

Monica looked at her daughter.  A tear rolled out of her eye.  "Mary, I am sorry.  I'm sorry that this was your fate."

"Well I don't want it," she said.  "It's not fair.  Why did it have to happen to me?  Why couldn't people just leave me alone?  I was perfectly happy in the forest, planting trees.  It's what I am good at.  I can't be an empress.  I am terrible at this.  I'm the worst, and I just want to go back to my job and plant trees."

"Mary..." her mother said.  "Mary, you shouldn't say that..."

"Why not?" Mary demanded.  "Did you see what Catherine Probst's column said about me today in the paper?  She called me a petulant child, and said on my best day I was no Carolina Ananto on her worst day.  How can I possibly live up to that?  She said I had no sense of humor, and that people were afraid to talk to me.  I must seem like a horrible person to all these people.  The National Assembly hates me...  I really am the worst person for this job..."

"Mary, that not true.  None of it is."

"I want to give this up, Mom, I am done.  I can't be my father.  I can't be Carolina.  I want to give it away.  Maybe to Margaret?"

"No, Mary, you can't do that,"  Monica tried to be reassuring, but her daughter was now sobbing.

"What about to you Mom, would you take it if I gave it to you?"

"Honey, I can't take it from you.  They wouldn't allow it.  You are your father's daughter:  you are the Empress and you can't give it away until you pass it to your own son or daughter."

"Well, I just won't have kids then.  Why would I ever curse them with this title, with this life?  I can't even say 'I' when talking to other people.  It's so weird.  I don't want to live like that.  I don't want my kids to have to live like that."

Monica embraced her daughter.  Mary was turning 23 years old today, but in many ways, she was still very immature, and still very much a kid.  Monica let her cry a little, as she stroked her hair to try to sooth her.  "Your father didn't want the job either.  Your grandmother didn't want the job but she did it...  You just need some practice and you too will grow into it."

"If nobody wants it, why do we keep it?" Mary asked.  "It's a terrible job.  The pressure is constant, and there are real problems in this world that I don't know how to solve, and if I fail, then everyone will blame me...  I can't live up to that expectation.  Why don't we just abolish the monarchy so nobody has to go through this?"

"Mary, your grandmother used to tell me about her father.  Fredrick the II.  He was a kind man, like your father, from what Carolina told me.  He doted on her and her mother.  He thought he might like to give it all up someday too, and just live a quiet life with the woman he was so in love with, Lady Pav."

"... the Black Empress..." Mary said softly and reverently, almost reflexively, because everyone always followed up Pavlina's name with that title, as if she was a mythical character out of a fairy tale, and saying her name too loudly might evoke her spirit.  Mary had heard her great grandmother referred to as the Black Empress far more often than she had ever heard her referred to by name.

"Yes, dear.  So he thought maybe he should perhaps let up on control of the government, maybe let the people have a say in how some things were run.  Maybe end the one party system.  Maybe have a little democracy...  Maybe this would be his way of freeing himself and his wife from the duties of the Monarchy, to let the people take over.  And do you know what happened?"

"I think they shot him, mama..." said Mary, adopting the tone of a much younger girl involuntarily.  This was the part of the story that she hated the most:  Mary knew full well what happened to her Great grandfather.  It was a cautionary tale her entire life, one that reinforced the lessons about the dangers of democracy.  And it scared her to think that someone might try to do that to her too.  Which, Mary knew, was the primary reason for the Protocol and the Lese-Majestie laws.

"The lesson Carolina learned was that asking the people to govern opens the door for bad actors.  Democratic movements are too susceptible to being taken over by violent extremists who just want to use democracy to take power for themselves.  Just look at what democracy did for a place like Kundrati.  It is not to be trusted.  Your grandmother knew that, your father knew it, I know it, you know it, and everyone in Kalistan knows it.  Carolina said she learned that day that the only way to prevent things like that from happening to the ones you love is to keep the balance between freedom and duty in the lives of the people of this country:  Duty is rewarded with liberty, fail to do one's duty, and you don't get the reward.  She said she understood why she couldn't give it up:  She learned it the day her father was shot by some fascist pretending to be a republican."

Mary looked at her mom.  "What is the reason, Mom?"

"Carolina said that the monarchy was the only thing standing between light and freedom permitted by correct social order and the chaos of democracy which gives rise to any number of social ills and disorders, including fascism.  And when she had served her nation long enough and her own son was ready to take up the cause, she would pass it to him, because he was more capable to carry that responsibility as her ability and faculties started failing her.  And now, you do that job.  You are like the cork in a bottle of poison.  If you weren't there, that poison would spill all over society and kill people.  Our Empress is the only thing that stands in the way of that happening in our country.  Imagine if you said you no longer wanted to do that.  Imagine how many people would be hurt if you stopped doing what you do, if you went back to the forest and only paid attention to your trees."

Mary's spirit dropped.  "It would be a disaster," she said slowly and dejectedly.  She knew now that she couldn't give up the job, but had to do it until it was someone else's turn.

Monica sensed the sadness creep over her daughter, and thought of something that could pick her daughter up.  "And besides, honey.  Who says you can't go plant trees if you want?"

Mary looked into her mother's eyes.  "I mean, I don't have time to plant trees as the Empress.  I am working every single day."

"Oh come on, Mary.  You're the Empress.  You work as much as you want.  Your word is law.  I have heard you say that yourself.  You know your father didn't work every day.  Some days he would decide that he would rather go sailing.  So we went sailing while you and your sister were in school.  You get to do what you want:  All you have to do is decide to do it, and there is literally nothing, or no one who can stop you.  If the Empress wants to plant trees, she can declare it a national tree planting holiday, and require everyone to take off work and join her.  You have that kind of power."

Mary felt a smile creep over her face.  "I...  I do?"

Monica gave her daughter a hug.  "Mary, you are an absolute Monarch.  All legitimacy springs from your breath.  You literally can do anything you want.  You can make anything happen.  Planting trees is nothing if you decide that you wish to accomplish it.  You can do what you want, say what you want.  Those gossips in the columns just talk because you can't be hurt by it- You are so far above them and above the Deputies in the National Assembly who won't say positive things about you that it is ridiculous to concern yourself with their prattle.  You are the most powerful person on this planet, if you want to be.  And if you want to plant your trees, then plant them.  You have whole mountain ranges to reforest right here in Ananto!"  Mary smiled.

"But you can't do that if you give up," Monica added.  Mary sat up.

"No, I suppose not," she said to her mother, who smiled at her.  "I guess I will have to keep being the cork."

"Yes," Monica said gently.  "You do have to be the cork.  Only until you can pass it to someone else, though.  You are very young, and it is not fair that you were put into this position at your age.  But I have faith in you, my Daughter.  You will be special, you will be loved, and you will be respected.  And most of all, you will do your duty."

Mary nodded, grateful for the pep talk, even though it was a little... odd.  "And what is your duty?" she asked her mother.

"My duty is to be the mother of the Empress of Ananto and Kalistan.  And to take care of you when you are sad, and to celebrate your birthday with you.  And it is a duty I will love and cherish until my last day."  Mary smiled and gave her mother another hug.

"Mom, can we please order pad thai tonight?"

"You mean instead of tacos?"

"Yes, instead of tacos.  Then I can get tofu..."

"Because it is your birthday, ok," said Monica with a smile.  "But you will stay for cake, I hope?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Mom."  Mary said with a smile.

[Elena1012]

Preparing for the Future
Xsampa, Metz-Leonid, Dorji District
September 2nd, 5633
-----------------------------
Ngawang Delacroix was always an odd figure in the CPX. To her critics, she was naive and overly utopian. To her colleagues, she was ambitious and believed in a better Xsampa. There was no doubt that she was a good Assembly Member. She represented her community excellently and despite being an anomaly within the CPX, she was respected within it. And she knew this.

She sat down for lunch in a food hall, discussing with her close colleague, Rinchen. It wasn't long before the 5635 elections came up as a topic. 

"Comrade, we both know that the Labourites are likely to win." Rinchen spoke in a conspiratorial whisper to Delacroix. It was always a taboo within the CPX to openly criticize it ever since Bhutia left politics. Rinchen continued to speak to his colleague, "They already swept in 25 and 30 and it's likely that the Party will nominate another compromise candidate." Before Delacroix could respond, Rinchen sighed and continued on, "Unless we get another Bhutia or the Labourites mess up their campaign, we're likely to stay in opposition. I hate to say it, but the Party was never prepared for democracy like this. Bhutia had a great vision, but the Party wasn't ready." The disappointment in his voice was undeniable. After a moment of silence, Delacroix responded back, offering her own thoughts.

"Comrade, I know things for the Party have been..." She paused, carefully picking her words. "Difficult to say the least. I can't say I disagree however. But what we need is vision. Another Aurousseau. We need to inspire the people, not campaign on just continuing what Bhutia did. That was a decade ago. He's a good man, but he didn't want a cult of personality, and he wouldn't want the Party campaigning on continuing his work. We need to evolve as a Party. Otherwise, the Social Workers are just going to take our voters away." She gave her thoughts to Rinchen, and continued to enjoy her lunch.

"Exactly. We need something new to inspire voters. But who? Who can be the candidate? Comrade Dutertre is too centrist. Comrade Tenzing has the charisma of a black hole on the national stage. Any ideas?" Rinchen asked, curiously. Delacroix thought about the question. Rinchen wasn't exactly right. The CPX didn't exactly have aspiring candidates at the moment. As she thought further, Rinchens face light up. No doubt he had an idea, for better or worse. 

"Comrade, why don't you run for Premier?" 

Delacroix paused, looking at Rinchen and blinked. Did she hear that right? Her? Run for Premier? She quickly spoke, caught off guard by the question. "Me? No no Comrade, I don't have that potential." She downplayed her potential. Running for Premier was far different than running for Assembly Member. Rinchen shook his head and countered her attempt at downplaying. "Nonsense. You have the potential. Look at your own district comrade. You won that in a landslide against the Labourites! Even when they've over performed across the country. You have something special to offer to voters. Besides, it never hurts to try. Throw your hat into the ring. Try to secure the Central Committee's nomination. If you fail, well you can say you tried. If you win, you have a real shot at not only giving the Party life again, but showing Xsampans that our fossil of a party still has new tricks." He gave a low laugh at his own self deprecating joke towards the CPX. 

Delacroix thought about it some more. As the topic shifted to casual life, throughout the lunch, she thought about the prospect. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to try? She always looked up to Aurousseau. She never knew Aurousseau and was too young to have known Aurousseau. She was only a child when the Bargas Chenpo happened 30 years ago. Aurousseau didn't sit idly by and let the Party get stuck in the sand. She took initiative. Maybe Delacroix could do the same. Her idol would've taken the chance in a heartbeat. And so, as the lunch hour drew to an end, she knew what she had to do. She had two years to build connections in the Party and build up influence. She had two years to prepare to make a run for Premier. Surely, she thought to herself, what's the worst that could happen?

[XanderOne]

Only the power destroys the danger


Situation room "Omega", the Former Palace of Posts and Telegraphs, seat of the Imperial Directorate of National Intelligence and Security, Romula, 19.17.

A hushed silence filled the situation room "Omega", located on the new upper floors in glass and steel added during the renovation of the building. Soundproof walls, a black beech wood table, shielding against any unauthorized transmission. A bare space, designed to contain only the essentials. Automatic shutters shielded almost totally the upcoming twilight and the artificial light fell coldly on the three men seated at the table.

The Secretary of National Intelligence and Security, a forty-year-old man with composed features and a steady gaze, sat in the center, in front of a closed folder, his hands clasped. To his right, with an expression carved in stone and rectangular eyeglasses that reflected the light, the Director General of Intelligence, a sharp face, a raspy voice. In front of them, relaxed but composed, the operative agent, officially an official of the Istalian embassy in Utaristan, unofficially something much more cumbersome.

The agent was thirty-eight years old, with a thick mustache, a short and unkempt beard, wavy brown hair pulled back on a slightly receding forehead. He was wearing jeans, a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a light jacket left on the chair next to him. He looked like the classic employee sent on a mission by ConfCam, the Istalian Confederation of Chambers of Commerce. Yet, the way he observed the two superiors betrayed an intelligence accustomed to moving in the shadows.

The Secretary, in a low and precise tone, asked the agent:
«Agent, update us. Satellite images and local reports confirm that the regime is violently repressing every demonstration. We would like direct confirmation. Is it really that serious?»

The Agent leaned forward slightly, his voice measured but with a hint of irony:
«"Serious" is a kind term, sir. In Utaristan the situation is an orgy of truncheons and deportations. The regime is not only repressing: it is purging, eradicating, humiliating. They are pulling out the old manuals from the 70s'... but with drones» [OOC: he is referring to the repressions of Nevio Russo's regime of the previous century]

«And the pro-democratic forces?» asked the General-Director without changing expression.

«They are resisting. They are reorganizing the coordination cells, but they need support. That said... there are alternative options to simply sending funds and tools»

«Alternatives?» asked the Secretary.

«With the right “incentives” some pieces of the puzzle can be moved» replied the agent with a smirk «figures within the military apparatus and the security services. Not all are loyal to the President, some are simply... used to regular payments. The salaries are not high... with more generous offers... as for the civil bureaucracy, instead, it has been swept away by the purges: there is zero trust there»

The Secretary did not hide a certain concern:
«The Government of Utaristan has openly accused us of fomenting the revolt. They have named names, indicated Istalia. How close are they to the truth?»

The agent let out a tired half smile:
«They move by intuition. They have no concrete evidence. They have intercepted some whispers, some suspicious movements, but nothing that can be brought to an international press conference without appearing paranoid. However, I recommend maximum discretion. Any misstep can become a diplomatic incident»

The Director-General, in a low voice but very cynical, promptly added:
«Let's not worry too much. After Deltaria, we have become the favorite target of regimes in crisis. All the Foreign Ministry has to do is issue a simple statement: “Another tyrant inventing foreign plots to hide his own failure”, and we'll make this dictator look just as pitiful as the last ones!»

«All right» then the Secretary turned back to the agent, his voice softer, his tone betraying a certain discomfort «and… tell me… were you clear with our contacts over there? You received the directives from the Supreme Council, right?»

«If the opposition is successful, we expect due appreciation, political and… economic. Yes, I was clear, I made it clear that our companies will have to have access to the deposits, the markets... and they will have more than substantial royalties, as well as development assistance... and so on»
Then he leaned over in his chair, taking something out of his inside pocket:
«By the way... I have a little something for you» and he took out a funny keychain: a little anime sekowan doll, disproportionate eyes and an absurd smile. He looked at it with an affectionate look for a moment, then casually detached its head, revealing a small USB stick hidden in the plastic neck «Not the most orthodox way to smuggle data... but definitely less suspicious than stuffing it in diplomatic baggage. Inside are studies and geological data from the Ministry of Mines, Industry and Technological Development: natural resources, deposits, chemical analyses, ongoing projects. Little things... that might be of interest to the high places»

The General-Director took the flash drive slowly, then nodded pleased:
«Great work, really. Support operations will begin within two weeks. You will have reinforcements on site, additional resources. But now take two weeks off. You earned it»

The Agent stood up and adjusted his jacket:
«Two weeks? Perfect. I just have a few sekowan series to catch up on... and a pending dinner with a beautiful IPG employe from back home, she still has the Caselloria accent!» and with a final nod he left the room with a chuckle. The doors closed, leaving the Director and the Secretary alone. [OOC: "IPG" is the "Istaliana Petroli e Gas", the state owned oil and gas company]

The latter, after a pause, said in a thoughtful tone:
«The Minister Secretary of State has expressed concerns. She wants guarantees. She does not want the operation to damage our image»

«And her image» the Director-General replied, crossing his hands, his gaze still steady «The Minister has always had these reservations, even on Deltaria. But the Supreme Council of Defense has already decided: guaranteeing constant resources, safe markets and opportunities for expansion is not only strategic, it is necessary!»

The Secretary, still thoughtful, continued in a low tone:
«We are running, faster and faster, I admit that I too fear that we risk biting off more than we can chew. I do not know if it is convenient, or right» he remembered his speeches into the Congress Committee for Security and Defense when the PSD was at the opposition. How naive, he thought to himself.

«Only a powerful Istalia can prevent anyone from threatening us» replied the Director-General cold and cutting «Only the power destroys the danger!»

Silence fell in the room, then the Secretary nodded, slowly, his eyes fixed on the void, as if searching for something outside that room, now "cut in half" by the orange blade of light of the romulan sunset streaming through the window.

[Augustus]

Outskirts of Tårnbæk, in the countryside town of Valholm, Davostag – 4 December 5633

Shining over large snowy fields, the sun is surprisingly strong today, but not strong enough to get rid of the far-northern snows. A large mountain range can be seen in the distance. The wooden house is yellow-colored, not unusual, but seen as a popular alternative to the common red houses in Davostag. It is quite large, though at the same time shows modesty. Three cars are parked outside in the driveway, one of them parked hastily as if on a visit. Loud voices can be heard from inside.

A boy. Looking about 19 years old, with thick brownish blonde hair, green eyes, about 180cm tall. He is wearing a white shirt and beige pants. Breathing heavily, the boy raises his voice again.

"It isn't enough to simply shout on some damn walk in the street! Real, actual REAL opposition must happen. For the gods sake! Sweat, tears and bloo..."

"Enough!", he is silenced by the woman standing in the living room with him. 54 years old, with a stern face, shadowy green eyes, hair color is a sort of dark blonde. She is wearing her usual grey suit with white silk shirt and pussybow. Her name Lena Greger, born Troelsdatter, is the wife of imprisoned opposition leader John Greger, and the de facto leader of the increasingly large protests she called just a few weeks ago against the national government.

A man is with them, Jonas Jäger, tall, around 50 years old with greying brown hair, wearing a dark suit. A long time family friend, he turns to the boy, "I never knew you had such ferocity in you Erik."
 
The boy, Erik Greger, glances away, eyes filled with rage and anger. "What else is there to have? Huh? Dad is rotting away in jail, the corrupt fat pig Dahler just took away our election and all you can do is call for peaceful protests?", he pauses, grabs the table in front of him and leans in, closing his eyes. He continues, "The only thing we need right now is ferocity, brutal and unending." He stands up straight, turns to them.
 
Lena looks at him. "Erik, you better do as we agreed. You are allowed to listen in on what we say as long as you can be calm. Is that understood?"
 
He does not respond, just angrily looks down to the side.

She ignores him, crosses her arms and turns to Jäger. "Jonas, we need a plan. How ready are we? How far are we to go?"

Jäger thinks for a second. "My estimation is that people are afraid, but that it is in our people to be encouraged by the group to take action. We need to use social media, internet and other means to constantly remind people that there are thousands who dare go against the government. But the question is not for me to answer, rather it is for you Lena. How far are YOU willing to go for justice, for John's freedom?"
 
Erik turns to look at her with Jäger, while Lena looks down deep in thought. I'd do anything to feel his warmth just for a second. She looks up. "Okay. I want you Jonas to gather the party's executive committee and the other leaders of the opposition to meet me in Ideltorp. There I will lay out the plans for the future. We will...we will complete this to the fullest."

"I'll get right to it", Jäger says and then turns to the boy, "Erik". He then leaves.

Lena turns to her son "And I want you to go to Tårnbæk and get your sister here. I'll have your uncle keep you company until this ordeal is over."
 
Having calmed down, Erik turns angry again, "I refuse! I will not sit idly by while you intend on heading to the frontlines to free dad. I will join you."
 
Unfazed by his growing anger, and lightens her face, "Come here", she says softly. When was the last time I hugged him? He's become so tense these past months.
 
Relenting, Erik walks up to her and carefully hugs her. "How come you've become so political? You're more radical than the entire opposition combined", she says to him with a sense of teasing.
 
"What else can I be?" he says, "It's like...like one day I just woke up and everything was just..." unable to finish his sentence, she adds "so much different than what you were taught".

"I suppose", he says quietly.
 
They let each other go, still standing close. "Quite different from your sister", she adds.
 
"That traitor..." he says, scoffing.
 
"You need to be there for her, Erik. These are very dangerous times. Without family we are nothing, YOU are nothing." Not responding, he just looks down. "And I'm sure she'll come to see things differently when she gets older."

"Or not", he responds.
 
"Or not. And that's her right, that's what we are fighting for right now."
 
He turns his face to her, giving a submissive look as one would do to their mother.
 
"So please, can you meet up with your uncle and pick her up and come straight here?"
 
"Yes, mom" he says before going to another room to get ready to leave.
 
A couple of minutes later. She stands at the front door, observing as Erik is driving away to the city. As she looks at the car getting smaller and smaller, she thinks to herself. Soon, I'll make you a better world so you'll never have to show an angry face again. Ever.