28-12-2003, 20:14
The hard tramp of iron-shod boots outside the dzaczlya çstalnyo, the House of Iron, were a lullaby that gently lulled the young Mother Empress Czina and her brother, Djanuz, to sleep.
It was their first night in the bedroom of the empress, and somewhere in the great Marble City of Grakau there could be heard upon loudspeakers, the proclamations of "Wiktriu! Wiktriu!" - victory! Victory! The midnight celebrations of the triumph of the noktor k' cztukhi - the Night of Fallen Leaves - were lit with the burning of the symbols of the old régime, of the besmirched Imperator Weçus Mahvly and his Puppet Emperor Kladiyo. The people, roused in an orgy of celebration, threw their hats and shot gunfire into the air, and the sky above the Capitol was set afire by the light of a thousand fireworks, all in glittering red and shimmering emerald.
All through the night resounded the high voices of the boys and girls of the Youth League, the paramilitary force that had secured the power from the collasping Imperial dynasty and its spineless Treblinka mulitzgei - the Triple-White Militia. They sang a song... the song of the Paetczi Party... as they marched, boots tramping rhythmically, through the broken glass and burning book piles of Grakau.
We are the children,
Builders of the future,
And as the children,
Swear to live:
Willful and joyous,
Builders and Destroyers,
Marching to the age of Unity...
Sing to the farmers,
Growers of our bounty,
And to the soldiers,
Deep at sea,
We are now one nation,
Free from degredation,
Under the banner of Unity...
And so it went, a unified scream from one small nation in a corner of Eastern Europe, riding on the airwaves of television and radio, that the nation of Czestarl was to begin a new epoch...
Under Czina and Djanuz - the child-emperors!
It was their first night in the bedroom of the empress, and somewhere in the great Marble City of Grakau there could be heard upon loudspeakers, the proclamations of "Wiktriu! Wiktriu!" - victory! Victory! The midnight celebrations of the triumph of the noktor k' cztukhi - the Night of Fallen Leaves - were lit with the burning of the symbols of the old régime, of the besmirched Imperator Weçus Mahvly and his Puppet Emperor Kladiyo. The people, roused in an orgy of celebration, threw their hats and shot gunfire into the air, and the sky above the Capitol was set afire by the light of a thousand fireworks, all in glittering red and shimmering emerald.
All through the night resounded the high voices of the boys and girls of the Youth League, the paramilitary force that had secured the power from the collasping Imperial dynasty and its spineless Treblinka mulitzgei - the Triple-White Militia. They sang a song... the song of the Paetczi Party... as they marched, boots tramping rhythmically, through the broken glass and burning book piles of Grakau.
We are the children,
Builders of the future,
And as the children,
Swear to live:
Willful and joyous,
Builders and Destroyers,
Marching to the age of Unity...
Sing to the farmers,
Growers of our bounty,
And to the soldiers,
Deep at sea,
We are now one nation,
Free from degredation,
Under the banner of Unity...
And so it went, a unified scream from one small nation in a corner of Eastern Europe, riding on the airwaves of television and radio, that the nation of Czestarl was to begin a new epoch...
Under Czina and Djanuz - the child-emperors!