NationStates Jolt Archive

Agua; Wombat News

The National Socialist Imperial Worker's Party is taking over Novar Ohan, turning it into a no-go area for non-Catholics, it has been announced. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3126376#3126376) Last night, the party won a shocking fifth local council seat, this time in Port Agua, leaving them just short of dominating the 20,000 seats across Agua. Adrian Schicklegrüber won by an astonishingly huge margin of 28 votes, forcefully beating the Liberal Pansy Party and Loony Limping Lefties Party into second and third respectively.

Political commentators now fear that fascists will overrun Novar Ohan as the NSIWP's meteoric rise continues. "In the next few days I expect the fascists to expand their strong base of five local council seats in Port Agua, and possibly take over the entire empire, if not the world," said a frightened political commentator who did not want to be named as Malissa Schwarz.

"Within weeks they will begin restricting people's movements, perhaps through the imposition of marshal law. The press will almost certainly begin to be censored, if not abolished, with many journalists rounded up and shot! This time next week I may not even be able to talk to you. I really do fear for my life."

Fellow commentator Daniel von Dummkopf concurred. "They will start small, perhaps by abolishing Protestantism or making white or human supremacist theories part of the national schooling curriculum," he predicted. "But soon enough, they'll move onto bigger things like dissolving Parliament, shooting elves and asylum seekers on entry and perhaps even persecuting the non-Catholic population. I feel we cannot rule out another holocaust at this stage."

Some military strategists suggest that the NSIWP's aims may be even greater. "There is evidence to suggest that the NSIWP have already acquired weapons of mass destruction," said a top Roanian military source. "We think they may try to use these to create an Eternal Empire in a similar way to Menelmacar's, thus starting the next world war in the process. We have to be on our guard."

Political opponents of the NSIWP have spent today reacting to last night's victory with a mixture of panic, dread and mass hysteria. Left-wingers and liberals have been persecuted in Novar Ohan in the past, so it is perhaps no surprise that prominent left-wing leaders are preparing to flee the country in fear. As Wombat News has discovered, the former leader of the left wing alliance, Karl Lamity, is getting ready to take refuge in what could soon become the more liberal and tolerant country of Iesus Christi.

Mainstream politicians have also given their reactions. Minister Simon Darquis called it "very worrying", while his opposite number, whose name no-one can ever remember, probably said something similar. Prime Minister Lapdog von Cartwright meanwhile said that he was unimpressed with the result. Speaking to a man on the bus he said: "I'm unimpressed."

Finally, a spokesman for the NSIWP has explained why they think the result went their way. "For years people here have struggled with drugs and crime problems," said Mr Schicklegrüber 's political agent. "It's quite obvious how doing a fascist salute, wearing armbands, carrying truncheons and guns, dressing up in black, throwing non-human and non-Aguan trash out of the country and shooting non-Catholics and anyone else who objects will improve their lives."

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS - ILLUMINATING THE PRESENT WITH LESSONS OF THE PAST

OOC: In a marked departure for Wombat News, this will develop into a story-line, with interested parties welcome (with Roania's consent!) to portray rabid right-wing mongrels or loopy lefties, as well as human rights activists concerned at the ground swell of fascism sweeping across the Empire of Novar Ohan . . . .

Kroenen held up a mug of beer. "Heil!" He said, raising it in a toast. "I'm sure we would all like to congratulate Comrade Schicklegrüber!" He said, to the massive crowd of men. "A shocking... what number?" He asked, his brow wrinkled.

"Mein Fuhrer...he actually won our 15th seat on the Aguan House of Burghers... thus putting us in control of the balance of power. We think Wombat News was being facetious." A man wearing black said, polishing his armband.

"Excellent... in that case, wassail!" He clanked the mug against those of his compatriots.

"DRINKHAIL!" The crowd responded loudly.

There was the sound of applause from the crowded pub entranceway. "Bravo, Kroenen... bravo..." A tall, black and white haired man stood in the doorway, leaning against the post. "Of course, one could hardly expect those fools to figure out everything..." Prince Damien Black strode in, his opera cloak flying in the breeze. "Did you save a drink for me?"

We need to form an alliance :)


Agua; Wombat News

The National Socialist Imperial Worker's Party is taking over Novar Ohan, turning it into a no-go area for non-Catholics, it has been announced. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3126376#3126376) Last night, the party won a shocking fifth local council seat, this time in Port Agua, leaving them just short of dominating the 20,000 seats across Agua. Adrian Schicklegrüber won by an astonishingly huge margin of 28 votes, forcefully beating the Liberal Pansy Party and Loony Limping Lefties Party into second and third respectively.

Political commentators now fear that fascists will overrun Novar Ohan as the NSIWP's meteoric rise continues. "In the next few days I expect the fascists to expand their strong base of five local council seats in Port Agua, and possibly take over the entire empire, if not the world," said a frightened political commentator who did not want to be named as Malissa Schwarz.

"Within weeks they will begin restricting people's movements, perhaps through the imposition of marshal law. The press will almost certainly begin to be censored, if not abolished, with many journalists rounded up and shot! This time next week I may not even be able to talk to you. I really do fear for my life."

Fellow commentator Daniel von Dummkopf concurred. "They will start small, perhaps by abolishing Protestantism or making white or human supremacist theories part of the national schooling curriculum," he predicted. "But soon enough, they'll move onto bigger things like dissolving Parliament, shooting elves and asylum seekers on entry and perhaps even persecuting the non-Catholic population. I feel we cannot rule out another holocaust at this stage."

Some military strategists suggest that the NSIWP's aims may be even greater. "There is evidence to suggest that the NSIWP have already acquired weapons of mass destruction," said a top Roanian military source. "We think they may try to use these to create an Eternal Empire in a similar way to Menelmacar's, thus starting the next world war in the process. We have to be on our guard."

Political opponents of the NSIWP have spent today reacting to last night's victory with a mixture of panic, dread and mass hysteria. Left-wingers and liberals have been persecuted in Novar Ohan in the past, so it is perhaps no surprise that prominent left-wing leaders are preparing to flee the country in fear. As Wombat News has discovered, the former leader of the left wing alliance, Karl Lamity, is getting ready to take refuge in what could soon become the more liberal and tolerant country of Iesus Christi.

Mainstream politicians have also given their reactions. Minister Simon Darquis called it "very worrying", while his opposite number, whose name no-one can ever remember, probably said something similar. Prime Minister Lapdog von Cartwright meanwhile said that he was unimpressed with the result. Speaking to a man on the bus he said: "I'm unimpressed."

Finally, a spokesman for the NSIWP has explained why they think the result went their way. "For years people here have struggled with drugs and crime problems," said Mr Schicklegrüber 's political agent. "It's quite obvious how doing a fascist salute, wearing armbands, carrying truncheons and guns, dressing up in black, throwing non-human and non-Aguan trash out of the country and shooting non-Catholics and anyone else who objects will improve their lives."

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS - ILLUMINATING THE PRESENT WITH LESSONS OF THE PAST

Wombat News: Disappointment at Fascist Speeches

Port Agua; Wombat News

There were concerns today that modernising influences in the NSIWP are becoming more and more angry at their slow progress. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3151833) Chairman Kroenen, the NSIWP’s first ever transgender chairman person, told NSIWP supporters in Port Agua that they "must change or face slaughter". Warming to his audience of racists, bigots and racist bigots, he went on to dramatically rip off his crumpled suit and false moustache to reveal an authentic Waffen SS uniform, specially borrowed from the Imperial Peace Museum in Menelmacar.

Goose-stepping around the stage, he shouted at the bewildered peasants, "Do you want to die? Well … do you, jackasses? 'Cause if you don't change, and change soon, I'm going to kill you all!" An almost sinister "evil laugh" was subsequently drowned out by the arrival of Damian von Schwafler, coughing loudly.

Reaction to Mr Kroenen's conference speech was mixed. Some of the party faithful were impressed with his performance. "I thought he was quite good," said Dunny Ramsbottom, a peasant from Nova Alaitoc. "He said what we wanted to hear. I'm sure we'll win the next election now!"

First-time delegates and political commentators likewise, though, weren't as satisfied. "I was quite disappointed actually," complained political commentator Daniel von Dummkopf. "I came here expecting some sort of right-wing lunacy, but all I got was a bit of fascism. It was quite tame really."

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – A BULWARK OF TRUTH AGAINST THE DARKNESS OF FASCISM

Damien threw the dagger at the wall in a rage. "Who do those fools think they are? And more importantly, Lieutenant Kroenen... who do you think you are?"

The Lieutenant audibly gasped, and seemed to shrink as the blade buried itself next to his head. "Mein Kaiser... surely there must be some mistake... there must have been a spy at our rally..."

Prince Damien Black slammed his hand down on the WN article. "I come off as a clown! A joke! I, the heir to the Imperial Throne... or, I would be heir if I could depend on the NSIWP to take the Imperial Parliament... and do you really think people will support you if this is how WN treats you? I'd be surprised if you hold seats in the Parliament of the Grand Duchy, nevermind gaining new ones in the Imperial Parliament..."

Kroenen looked worried. "Sir, has..."

"Be silent! Already my blasted older brother is using this as propaganda. My sister can't look at me without breaking into laughter, and its taking all my agents around the court to keep my mother from getting ahold of this..."

"And I suppose you think I have it easy, Your Grace? Well, I don't. Cartwright's actually using that phrase, 'I am unimpressed.' That Jew, Ivan Yaansky of the Imperial Party, called me a transgender to my face... it's intolerable! What will we do about it?"

The prince laughed then. "My dear sir... I'm going to contact Leopold, and order him to order the Publishers to donate equal time to savaging the reputation of my brother, Daniel, and his accursed Central Democrat Party..."

"I'm going to contact Leopold, and order him to order the Publishers to donate equal time to savaging the reputation of my brother, Daniel, and his accursed Central Democrat Party..."

Wombat News Bureau, New Agua (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=3080566#3080566)

"He said what? Don't come the raw prawn ... yeah, yeah, no worries. There's not a hope in hell of that happening!!"

Bluey slapped the phone down in its cradle, and began to plan the next article about the upstart NSIWP and its maniac leaders.

"Try to put pressure on the free press, would they? Well, we'll see about that," he thought to himself, marshalling what little information he had.

"The truth hurts but, when in doubt, scurrilous rumour hurts most .. !!"

Duke Leopold von Agua sighed as hung the phone up. I'm in trouble... he said, checking his security measures. Prince Damien is not going to like this... "Ask Bluey if we can pay him... I'd hate to end up being ordered to do something by the Kaiserin..."

"But Your Grace, the majority of papers in Agua are not partisan. And there are several papers supporting both the NSIWP and the CDP, and the NSIWP..."

"Still..."

Wombat News: Damien von Schwafler Prepares for "Meet the Media"

Port Agua; Wombat News

Preparing for an interview on "Meet the Media" this Sunday, Damien von Schwafler practiced answering the difficult questions expected from Wombat News Bureau Chief Bluey Bludger.

Gathered in a smoke-filled bar in Port Agua with transgender NSIWP Chairman Lieutenant Kroenen and media-savvy Duke Leopold von Wechselfleck, Prince von Schwafler first responded to an easy question posed by Duke Leopold: "Prince Damien, how many years have you now been secretly backing the NSIWP?"

Prince von Schwafler is said to have been preparing for his showdown with the press for the past eighteen months by reading books about his life. Rumours abound that the books in question are made out of thick cardboard pages and are mainly illustrated works.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – THE TRUTH THAT REACHES THE PARTS OTHER TRUTH DOESN’T REACH

tag

A muscle under Damien's eye twitched. "How? HOW!" He roared, picking Kroenen up and shaking him like a doll. "How do they know these things?"

The older man whispered the Lord's Prayer. Damien growled, and sent him flying into a wall. "Your pathetic God won't save you, Kroenen, if I decide you're a liability." He balled his hands into fists, and slammed a hole through his office desk. "Damn it! Somehow they must have spies in the NSIWP, and in my entourage!"

Kroenen whimpered out, "my lord, surely it doesn't matter... I'll send over some boys to talk to them..." he coughed, and then mustered his self-esteem. Would the great Goebells have bowed before this conceited monster? No! He stood up. "Why don't you go, and have a nice rest, Your Grace? I assure you, the NSIWP can deal with this matter without Imperial Assistance."

Damien sneered. "You had better hope so. I have to be back in the Stronghold for the opening of the Imperial Parliament. When I return to the Grand Duchy, this had better be dealt with."

"Yes, your Grace," Kroenen said, giving a Fascist Salute. Damien returned the salute, and stalked out. The Naso Fuhrer waited a second, and then left through the other door, taking his car back to the Aguan Arms and the Cabinet of his party. WN is run by the inhumans! They will be made to pay!

===========

In the Stronghold, a meeting of a very different sort was being held. Prince Daniel Black stared across the board at Prime Minister Cartwright. They both glared into eachother's eyes. Then, with a sudden movement, Daniel moved the Bishop. "Checkmate."

The Prime Minister sighed. "You win again, Your Grace..."

"I always do. Now, what do you think about this WN business?" Daniel asked, taking a sip from his cocktail.

"From what I hear, Kroenen is beside himself in fury. Has Her Imperial Highness a view?" The aged Prime Minister asked, taking a swig from a hipflask.

"Mother is being kept uninformed by my brother's agents... besides, she can't stand Wombat News anyway. So, that avenue is not open to us." Daniel smiled. "Anything that makes Damien discomfited is okay by me. I've never seen him in such a foul mood."

Cartwright shook his head. "I can only pity the prisoners he places on training duty... and I can only hope that the Muslim and Jewish Populations in Port Agua has taken Premier Hohenzollern's advice and left the city." He paused. "Though, if they didn't... and something bad happened... the Imperial Party could be damaged..."

Daniel shook his head. "It's always about the politics with you..." he checked his watch. "Oh, dear... and I have to track my sister down... you know, it makes me wonder why we have palace staff, if they can't be trusted to find a 15 year old girl."

"Well, give my regards to Princess Rachel, and to your young lady" Cartwright said, rising from his chair.

Daniel flushed. "I don't have a young lady..." he said, coldly.

"Ah. Well, to your friend, Elizabeth Darquis, then."

Daniel nodded, and then swept from the room. He peeked his head back in. "Oh, by the way... I'd consider it a favour if you drew attention to that article in your interview this afternoon..."

Tag...

*Mumbles something like "Facists now... We're doomed... So annexed..."*

Wombat News: Damien von Schwafler Enters ‘Full-On Dreadfire Psycho Mode’

Port Agua; Wombat News

Senior NSIWP sources confirmed yesterday Damien von Schwafler had been officially diagnosed as suffering from the mental condition known as “full-on Dreadfire psycho mode”. Experts say the symptoms are an ecstasy-like state of delusion where the sufferer believes everything they say is a cosmic truth - and that the rest of the population is a bunch of tiresome knuckleheads. Damian Dreadfire took a good 10 years to reach the state, but von Schwafler’s condition has kicked in with a rapidity that is alarming some experts. The only known cure is to immediately commit the lunatic to an asylum before he does any more damage, and to ensure the troupe of roving comedy players known as the NSIWP are never able to meet again.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – A ROD WITH WHICH TO BEAT POLITICAL INANITIES

The dining hall was hushed as Damien stalked in, his opera-cloak flying behind him. His entourage moved away from the place where he sat, none of them speaking. Across the entire room, silence reigned. The Dark Prince reached out, and took a slice of toast, and normalcy returned.

At the head of the table, Malissa allowed herself to breathe again. Then, disaster struck. A courtier entered the room, looking at a copy of WN. "Oh, dear... the Dark Prince doesn't come out very well... oh, blessings be upon you, Your Grace." He said, as Damien stood up.

"And upon you, friend. What's that in your hands?" Damien asked, politely. The courtier backed up.

"Oh, it's nothing... nothing..."

"Oh, but I insist..." he snatched it from the courtier's hands. As he read it, he scowled. Damien scrunched up the paper, and threw it into the fireplace. "Well, well, well... looks like the Fuhrer is more of a dumkopf then I thought..." he said, watching as the paper was consumed in the flames. He sat down, and looked over at the Minister for Protocol. "Tell me, Basil. Aren't members of the Imperial Family meant to be sacrosanct from the tabloid news?"

"Um... well, there's no actual rule... but it's generally agreed on, yes." The minister wilted. "I'll send that dreadful little Budger a reminder."

Kaiserin Malissa Black looked over at her older son, Prince Daniel. The Light Prince was almost choking from the strain of not laughing. "Daniel, don't you have work to do?" she asked, wondering what she had done to deserve this open warfare between her sons.

===========

Even as the paper was burning, in Port Agua the Great Central Synagogue was as well. Black wearing men, their faces masked, had firebombed it and took off on motorcycles. Soon, other fires started as Agua Mosque was bombed, and the Budhist monastery.

Finally, a firebomb was thrown through the windows of Wombat New's pub. Sounds of laughter could be heard, fading into the distance as ICIP Stormtroopers and Polizei sirens could be heard.

Kroenen watched the buildings burn. So long as WN focusses on the Prince, I'm left alone. The fools! Budger is targetting the supporter, and not the head...

["Dreadfire Psycho Mode"-powered tag!]

Wombat News: Attention-Starved Roania Celebrates National Socialists

New Agua; Wombat News

Roania’s monarchy has unofficially endorsed the NSIWP, a little-known, indigenous neo-National Socialist skinhead organisation. "Hey, look at us, world!" said Damien von Schwafler, aristocratic bootlicker-in-chief to Kaiserin Malissa Schwarzhemd. "Roania isn't just about boring, expensive domestic floorcleaning products and exceedingly dangerous automobiles. Roania is also about breaking stuff, getting tattoos and whatever else it is that neo-National Socialists do!" NationStates socio-political pundits summarily dismissed the move as a pathetic attempt by the ultra-bland country to get a little attention on the increasingly violent and ribald world stage. "What? No!" countered von Schwafler. "We Roanians love our neo-National Socialists! Really! Can't get enough of them. You can quote me on that. Why aren't you writing any of this down???"

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – BRINGING YOU EVEN THE MOST INCONSEQUENTIAL NEWS FROM THE BACK OF BEYOND

Wombat News: Wombat TV adds “Everyone Loves Kroenen” to Summer Schedule

Port Agua; Wombat News

Spurred on by public demand for more family-oriented viewing fare, Wombat TV today announced that it has signed Iesus Christi star Matthew Iesus to play his first TV role in the new prime time sitcom “Everyone Loves Kroenen”. The new show is set in Roania during the current depression, and features a New Aguan immigrant family trying to make a go of it in Roania.

“We think everyone will be able to identify with Kroenen and his merry band of family and friends,” said Wombat TV programming director Mappa Tassie. “It’s the first, real, feel-good, working class sitcom of the new millennium. Kroenen is gonna charm the socks off of the world. He’s like Charlie Chaplin, except he’s short, thin, bald and New Aguan.”

Kroenen has a long-suffering wife, Eva, and a wacky neighbour and best friend, Josef, with whom he is always hatching up hare-brained schemes to take over the world and to free it from the “International Christian Capitalist Bolshevik Green Conspiracy”.

In the first episode, entitled “Beer Hall Putsch”, Kreonen and his drinking buddies - Josef, Hermann, Heinrich, Martin, and Damien von Schwafler - get drunk one night and try, with laughable results, to take over the government of New Agua. For their efforts they are put in jail and, by golly, do Eva and the wives get as mad as cut snakes at their wayward husbands. However, all is forgiven when Kroenen writes a surprising best-seller about camping while doing time.

The writers assembled for the show are all veterans of Wombat TV, and it really shows in what will certainly become Kroenen’s catchphrase of the series: “One of these days, Eva, I’m gonna send you to the showers.”

Joining Matthew Iesus in the leads are Magda Yaccov as Eva and Heinie Bormann as Josef, and the all-star cast sizzles like Zyklon B. It’s no wonder the critics are already calling the show “Must See or You Will Be Shot TV”.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – THE LIGHT ON THE SIDE OF RIGHTEOUS TELEVISION

Basil sighed as he walked through the devestated streets of Port Agua. The old man shook his head. Who could have done this?

Aguan Marines snapped to attention as he walked past them and up the stairs to the WN office. Are they keeping people in, or keeping people out? He entered, and nodded to the young secretary. "Madame, I have an appointment with Mr. Bludger in 5 minutes. Under the name: Imperial Minister for Protocol Basil Harthorne."

The pretty, young sheila behind the charred desk looked up at the old codger who'd just walked in, and wiped her eyes, leaving streaks of mascara across her tear-stained face.

"Um, he's not here ... was he expecting you?" She paused, before continuing. "Anyway, he's gone down to the pub to see if we can salvage any of the Wallaby Ale ... " She burst into tears again. "It's .. just .. not .. fair," she choked through her tears. "Who would do such a terrible thing? And the latest delivery had just arrived, as well ... "

Leaving the befuddled sheila wracked by sobs at the thought of all the precious Wallaby Ale lost to the barbarians who committed this heinous act, Minister Harthorne collected his escort with his eyes and headed back down, and towards the shell of the Wombat & Bunyip bar across the street.

Meanwhile, from a secret location somewhere else entirely, because Wombat News reporters never sleep and the next edition must hit the streets ....

Wombat News: Kroenen “Never Owned Nazi Book”

Port Agua; Wombat News

NSIWP Chairman Kroenen said he was shocked and embarrassed when a former house-keeper told a Wombat News reporter that she saw “Death Camps For Dummies” on the book shelf in his home study.

“I have never owned that book . . . I’ve seen it . . . I have had it, yes, . . . not owned . . . a gift . . . well . . . a loan, really . . . not mine . . . not at all,” spluttered Kroenen when confronted by a Wombat News reporter.

“Death Camps For Dummies” was published “for educational purposes only” by the Der Angst Freedom Party in 2001. It is based on, but not associated with, the popular “For Dummies” series which cover everything from cat spaying to skittle repair to working on advanced rock-breaking.

Purportedly written from notes compiled by famed Der Angst Freedom Party leader the late Adolf “Redneck” Hünnearsche, “Deaths Camp For Dummies” features chapters such as:

“Solutions – An Overview” by Melkor Unchained;

“Stocking Your Death Camp” by Matthew Iesus;

“Managing A Withering Population” by Damien Dreadfire; and

“Throwing Mama From The Train – High Impact Collisions on Human Body Integrity”, a collaborative effort by Administrator Delta and The Great Ineffable Bob.

A red faced Kroenen admitted that the book had been in his house at one time, but that it was no longer there, and that he’d never found the time to read it anyway. “I thought, just glancing at it, mind you, that it was a terrible and obscene work.”

When asked if the book had impacted his thinking on the treatment of non-Catholics, non-Aryans and aristocrats, Kroenen frowned and demanded to be asked another “easier question”.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – THE TRUTH IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Damien cackled as he looked at the copy of WN. "Ah, mockery... where is thy sting?"

Kroenen looked furious. "How dare these bolshevik monsters attack me, The Führer of the NSIWP? I'll see them all dead!"

The Dark Prince shook his head. "Don't worry... evidently, the publicity is working in your advantage... there's a massive crowd of people out there, waiting for you..." Damien gestured to the stage-door. "Go on, Unser Führer... your party awaits you..."

Kroenen nodded, and marched out, his eyes glistening manically... he took the copy of WN from Damien's hands as he left the room. The Dark Prince shook his head, and then left through the rear door, and his waiting limo.

=========

Kroenen waited until the audience was at its perfect pitch of excitement, and then he stepped onto the stage. "Why are you here?" He asked, simply.

There was a confused outbreak of answers. He shook his head. "No. You are here because you are afraid. Afraid of chaos, afraid of those newcomers. You are here... because this is the only party that holds true to the ideals of the Divine Imperium... ONE CULTURE! ONE RACE! ONE LEADER!"

The crowd repeated his words, shouting them back loudly. Thousands of feet snapped to attention and gave him, and the Swastika Flag, the fascist salute.

He waited until the shouting died down, and then gesticulated with the hand holding the copy of WN. "The dogs of Australian Marsupials twist my words and intentions! I do not believe that the only way to cleanse this world of the semitic peoples, and their allies the elves and bolshevicks, is by killing them! I don't even feel that for the empire! But if it is neccessary, then I will not shrink from what must be done! ROANIA FOR ROANIANS! AGUA FOR AGUANS! DERRICKS FOR DERRICKERS! ALTARA FOR ALTARANS! THE EMPIRE IS FOR US! Enough with the liberalisation that sees a good Roanian turned away for a job because a dog of a jew has taken it! Enough of Arabs plotting terrorist attacks and turning our desert into a new Middle East! No more of the elves using humans as cattle! It ends here!"

The crowd roared as the gesticulating and charismatic leader infected even more of them with his views. And after there was silence, he began to speak.

He spoke of the purity of the ancient, original, Divine Imperium. He claimed that it was the fault of the semitic peoples that it had shattered, and he called the elves to account for, in the guise of Bolshevism, putting an end to the successor state, the Kingdom of Roania, and then destroying the Socialist Republic of Agua. He told them of the simple faith, and the grand plan of the inhumans to subvert this world.

And they listened. And they believed. And in each heart, a hatred was born. And the seeds of a new order were planted.

Harthorne and the marines entered the burnt-out bar. "Hello? I'm looking for a Mr. Bludger... I'm the Imperial Minister for Protocol, and I'm not used to having people miss appointments with me."

Wombat News: Fascists respond to claim 'National Socialism damages brain' with ridicule, drool

Port Agua; Wombat News

A Roanian study has found fascism reduces cognitive function at the rate of 5% per year, with the brain damage believed to be caused by agreeing that everything is someone else’s fault, and that fascists are somehow better than everyone else anyway.

The scientific world has been astounded by this groundbreaking association between voluntarily accepting noxious political theories and being terminally stupid.

Damian von Schwafler, éminence grise behind the pro-NSIWP lobby “Burn all the Jews, Arabs, Protestants, Elves and everyone else I don’t like”, ridiculed the study: "It's outrageous to suggest that throwing non-Catholics, non-Aryans and inhumans and their evil works of literature onto a big bonfire and setting fire to it is associated with stupidity! This is just another weird, exaggerated claim," von Schwafler continued, after pausing to inhale deeply from the tainted smoke of fascism.

Study author Dr Libby Rall conceded that fascists in her study had a lower rate of Alzheimer's disease, but suggested this may be because they died in their 40s due to their inability to think for themselves.

"This is just more scaremongering by the liberal class," according to wanna-be death camp kommandant and NSIWP chairman Kroenen.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – A GLIMMER OF HOPE IN THE GATHERING GLOOM

Wombat News: Anti-Christ Arrives – In Port Agua

Port Agua; Wombat News

In a totally unexpected statement Dunny Kroenen, an unemployed house-painter from Kleinschwanz, Agua announced that he is the Anti-Christ - an evil figure whose appearance is supposed to lead to the battle of Armageddon and the end of the world.

Under intense questioning from the country’s media, Anti-Christ Kroenen qualified his statement admitting that he is the Anti-Christ only for the Grav-Ship Cult religion. Grav-Ship Cultism is an offshoot of the animist religions of Agua which viewed Menelmacari grav-ships during the Menelmacari occupation of Roania as manifestations of the Gods.

Dressed in lederhosen and holding a small root vegetable, Kroenen spoke to the assembled media while standing on the roof of a neighbour’s potting shed. “My powers and authority are slightly limited,” he said. “I caused the massive traffic jam in Roan City a fortnight ago and allowed a car park in Altara to flood despite otherwise perfect weather. I expect to foment other such problems for you numbskulls in the months to come. These will lead up to the battle of Derrick!” Derrick, Kroenen explained, is his neighbour who complains about all the noise when the Anti-Christ meets his followers.

When pressed for details of the Battle of Derrick – the battle which should herald the end of the world as we know it – Kroenen acknowledged that the battle would be more hand-bags at five paces than all-out warfare. “However, the battle will annihilate a portion of Derrick’s rose-garden.” At this he threw the small root vegetable he was holding into the midst of the journalists, scattering them, somewhat. “But I am working on a scheme to devastate his prize-winning turnips!”

After the last pronouncement, Kroenen jumped off the back of the potting shed and ran away. Psychiatric nurses, called by the owner of the potting shed, say they are familiar with Kroenen and his delusions, and insist that he is not a threat to anyone.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – A POKE IN THE EYE OF DELUSION WITH A SHARP, POINTY STICK

Kroenen saluted Damien at the airport terminal. "Don't worry, my Prince. I'll keep the party waiting for you!"

Damien raised an eyebrow, but also gave he fascist salute. "Very well, unser Fuhrer. Remember, don't cause too much damage to our minority friends!" He said, his voice carrying over to where his brother, sister, and parents were waiting, along with the Prime Minister.

Kroenen winked, and then stepped back. Cartwright stepped forward. "Your Grace, I thank you for stepping in like this... it's such a shame about Darquis, breaking his leg like that."

Damien nodded to the Prime Minister, and glared at Daniel. "Well, *apparently* I needed a vacation." He stepped back as Malissa gave him a hug and a moist kiss. "Yes, mother... I'll miss you too..." he rolled his eyes when his sister followed suit. "Yes, Rachel. You be a good girl while I'm gone."

"I want you to buy me a pony in Larkinia!" Rachel said, her arms wrapped around her older brother.

Damien growled, and detached her. "Fine, I'll get you the pony." After I become Kaiser, I'll marry her off to a horse rancher in North America. He shook his father's hand. "Farewell, father... I only regret that this time I won't be collecting any...interesting gifts for you."

John chuckled, a bit weakly. "Yeah...um...have fun, son."

Daniel stepped forward and Damien glared at him. "Don't even think about it." He said, when his brother opened his arms. They both glowered at each other, and then Daniel handed Damien a package.

"Here, I picked you up some reading material, Damien. I'll walk and feed your doberman, and keep your entourage busy. Don't open the package until you're in the air." He put his hand out, and Damien shook it. "Enjoy your flight."

Damien nodded. "Enjoy your time here..." He looked at Kroenen. "Grigori, behave while I'm gone. Good boy!" With a twirl of his cloak, he started to walk through the gate.

Kroenen looked offended, especially when Cartwright chuckled at his expense. But inside, he knew what that meant...he knew the code. Time to begin...

============

Damien reclined his seat, and looked around his personal jet. Then, as he felt the plane take off, he opened the package, and..."A copy of Wombat News?" He thought, a sense of horror dawning within him. He started to read...

============

As Daniel walked back to the waiting limousine, he thought he could hear a distant, furious, scream. Success! I'll have to buy Bludger a beer next time I'm in Agua.

Wombat News: NSIWP Plans Barnyard Vote

Agua; Wombat News

The NSIWP has demanded that farm animals be allowed to vote in all future elections.

The demands given to electorate officials today dictate that cows, sheep, pigs and all other animals with major agricultural influence be able to poll votes at all electoral levels.

The announcement of the demands follows the NSIWP's poor showing at the last elections, and research into ways of increasing the vote. It transpires that 87% of Aguan animals and even 54% of animals elsewhere in Novar Ohan would vote for the NSIWP if a candidate stood in their locality.

Sources suggest that this could be because of recent whisperings in that popular Aguan rumour mill, the Aguan Women's Institute monthly newsletter, which reported suggestions that, in fact, many NSIWP members were descended from sheep and goats rather than apes.

NSIWP officials are yet to respond.

THIS BROADCAST IS BOUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – SHEDDING LIGHT ON THE DARKEST RECESSES OF THE DEMOCRATIC PROCESS

Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a night without moon and star.--Confucius

This has been an official TAG by the Five Civilized Nations

Premier Hohenzollern smiled as he read the issue of Wombat News. "Amazing...simply amazing..." he put it down, and then looked at the proposal from the NSIWP on his desk. "A proposal to bar all Jews, Elves, and Moslems from voting in the up-coming elections...how does WN do it?" He then turned, and stared at the closet of his office. "..."

He walked over to it, and prepared to throw it open, certain that there was a reporter hiding within.


================

At the exact same time, the Saturday Morning service at the Grand Synagogue was interrupted by an explosion, a small bomb going off in the vestry.

Wombat News: Kroenen Strangles Chicken

The NSIWP’s embattled leader Grigori Kroenen yesterday strangled a live chicken to death in front of a crowd of slimy and cheering pensioners in Port Agua.

During the first of leg of his Aguan election tour, he wooed sadistic grandmothers with the death squawks of writhing wildfowl.

Drool dribbling from his chin, Kroenen shouted into the crowd:

"I will rid this country of the pestilence of foreignness, all things non-Catholic, non-Aryan and inhuman will be purged from our land!!!! Just like this chicken whose Asiatic ancestors invaded our land so many years ago, we will clean our country of all things foreign."

Chicken strangulation appears to be the first part of Kroenen’s plan for the next month. His itinerary includes sheep shooting in Port Agua, horse hacking in Roan, and the pitiless persecution of many goldfish in Altara Town.

Kroenen's new campaign comes as the NSIWP party released an addendum to their election manifesto; provisionally dubbed "The Final Solution". The new proposals include a radical rethink to Roanian imperialism, starting with anyone unlucky enough to be a neighbour. As part of their image rethink, party executives are also considering changing the party's name to the "Supreme Coalition of Über-Mensch".

Whilst on tour, Kroenen has also been promoting the new biography of his life "My Camp; the Struggles of an Aguan Cross-Dresser" which he hopes will be an outrageous inspiration to all budding fascist lunatics everywhere.

THIS BROADCAST IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY WOMBAT NEWS – BRINGING YOU NEARER TO THE BARNYARD STENCH OF POLITICS THAN YOU REALLY WANT TO BE

"This is beautiful!" Director Kerrik declared, lowering the Wombat News.

"You like this stuff, sir? It's a lot of overblown news and dry humor. I'd admit, it's funny, but-"

Kerrik shook his head, "Beneath the shades of sarcasm, this has more truth than almost any National News I've seen. Better scoops, inside info, unpredictable... I've got a stack of these things yay high in my house." Kerrik held his hand at eye level, just to demonstrate. "Besides, as long as WN keeps those maniacal Roanian elements busy, they can't be worried about plotting an invasion of us."

"Ah, I see."

"Said the blind man."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just read the paper."

"Yes, sir."

[tag]

[snipped]

This is beautiful ... a lot of ... news and dry humor ... it's funny ...

[snipped]



Cooeee!! Roania!!!

We're baack!!!

WN

Damien chuckled at the paper. Recent events, such as Kroenen's growing reticience and refusal to obey orders ever since he had become Premier, had made him start to think that perhaps the NSIWP, his NSIWP, would be better off with new leadership, leadership that wouldn't inflame so many people.

He himself had no time for Jews or Moslems or Buddhists or Hindus. But he also had no time for Catholicism or any other kind of Christianity. The Dark Prince, though, felt that people could believe whatever they wanted and do almost whatever they wanted in private, so long as they obeyed him unthinkingly in public. Race was of only slightly more importance in his view of the world, and both were far below psychology. He despised certain religions for their mindset, not for anything else.

It seemed that Kroenen had been gotten at by the radicals in his own party now.

"...They may have their revolution, so long as it is clear that it is a reaction... and that I am master..." Damien thought, picking up a copy of the Roslin Herald. He dropped it onto the table and stared in shock.

~~

ROSLIN HERALD

Premier Grigori Hans Kroenen today lashed out against the Aguan Orthodox Church, claiming it to be a foul perversion of Christ's message and a servant of the slave-owning classes...

~~

Damien's eyes narrowed, and he slowly shredded the paper to pieces before Kathryn came in from her room. Their room, or his room, or... '...god, I wish I knew what the hell she was doing...'

She stretched, and smiled. "Anything interesting in the news today?" She asked, sitting across from him.

Damien Black glanced at the woman he loved, the only other person in the universe he gave a damn for. He hesitated. "...no...but I strongly suggest that you avoid going to church for the next few days..."

Kathryn looked at him funny. "Any particular reason, Damien?" She questioned, moving closer to him and trying to place the strange look in his eyes.

Damien shook his head rapidly. "No...just...don't. That's an order...please."

Kathryn smiled at him, and took his hand. "If it means that much to you..." she murmured, kissing his forehead.

~~

However, Kathryn didn't obey Damien. "How dare he!" The devout young woman raged as she pulled her car out of the Tower's garage. "I thought we were past that..." she sighed, wondering if maybe their close proximity and her insistence on chastity until marriage was driving him back to old modes of thought.

Then she laughed at herself for even considering that. "He's probably just on another one of those 'religion is folly' bends...it'll pass," she said to herself as she pulled into the Cathedral parking lot for her prayers.

As she did, she vaguely noticed some men in the uniform of the NSIWP Purification Squads by the building. She paid them no heed, and instead walked inside.

She was in the middle of the vestry, when a massive explosion demolished the Cathedral.

Damien first heard about all of this, though, when he flipped on the radio to hear;

And there has been a massive explosion at the Aguan Orthodox Cathedral on Ventsra lane...casualties reports are sketchy, but it is confirmed that Ms. Kathryn Finsternis, the Personal Assistant to Prince Damien Black, has been admitted to Beis Yaakov Hospital's Serious Burns Unit...

Damien stopped listening. The entire world seemed far away... he only barely noticed when the glass of water in his hand exploded into shattered pieces from the intense pressure of his closing fist.

~~

Damien stalked through the halls of Beis Yaakov, surrounded by heavily armed guards. The woman at the desk had taken one look at him, and passed on her usual 'please check all weapons and personal items before you enter the hospital', instead meekly opening the access door.

Damien rewarded her efforts with a scowl, and passed into the Burns Unit's offices. The doctor within almost leapt out of his chair when Damien growled, "I'm here to see Ms. Finsternis."

~~

Damien went into the room alone, his guards staying outside to keep prying eyes away from him. He sat on a chair, and looked at the bandaged woman on the bed, one of her eyes covered by a patch. She seemed so...so frail...

The Dark Prince's voice was shaking when he softly said, "Kathryn?"

The woman tried to rise to face him, but failed. She moved her head instead, and spoke. Her voice was weak... "why didn't you tell me..."

Damien started to cry. "God...I'm so sorry... I didn't think...I thought he knew..." the tears kept flowing down his face. He was unable to stop himself. "I'm so sorry..."

Kathryn made a choking sound. "I don't want to hear your voice, Damien Black." She rasped. "I don't want to know you exist...how could you?" She pleaded with him. "How could you?"

Damien moved to answer, but she turned her head away from him. He went to the door, wiping his tears away. "I...I don't ask for your forgiveness... I don't ask for anything...I'll never be able to forgive myself... please, just rest, my love..."

She didn't answer. Damien left silently. Kathryn once more started to cough repeatedly. 'I wish I could cry...' she thought, feeling betrayed and hurt.

~~

Damien growled as he left the room, his normal self once-more. Only the slight waver in his voice when he gave the order to return to the tower marked him as a man in more pain than most people would ever have to deal with. 'Kroenen...you have signed your death sentence...and I will deliver it myself.'

Kroenen knocked on Damien's office door. He was deeply concerned and apprehensive about meeting his sponsor. "My lord? Are you in there?" He asked, looking around nervously. The Fuehrer had rarely entered the Tower in Roslin, but this was a special case.

Damien's voice answered. "Ah, Kroenen...please enter..." Kroenen complied. Damien was standing at the window, looking out over the city. His eyes seemed focussed on a thin wisp of smoke still visible after almost three days. "Please, take a seat..."

Kroenen sat down rapidly, and composed himself. 'Damien seems calm...' he thought, relaxing. "Um...how have you been, My Lord?"

"Fine...fine... except for the teeny, tiny, insignificant detail that" Damien spun around and slammed his fist onto his desk, splintering the wood, "you blew up the one person on the planet who makes my life worthwhile!"

Kroenen smiled, wanly. It was the wrong reaction. The furious Dark Prince leapt over the broken desk, and picked Kroenen up by the neck, shaking him like a ragdoll. "You useless piece of shit!"

Kroenen croaked out, "These things will happen in war..." Damien looked at him, rage in his dark eyes. The Dark Prince threw the Fuehrer into the wall, and returned to his desk.

"No, Kroenen. These things can happen to you and your men...they can happen to those imbeciles who wish to follow you or work alongside you... they can try to happen to me...but they should never. Ever. Happen to Kathryn." Damien raised a hand to forestall any further comments. "This is your war, Kroenen...not mine. You started this, and I can't believe that Kathryn was a casaulty in it..."

Kroenen climbed to his feet, his face screwed up in pain. Faster than he could see, Damien scooped up a paperweight and threw it at the Fuehrer's skull, where it caused a bruise. Kroenen coughed. "We'll...um...discuss this when you're calmer...I'll...I'll just go..." Kroenen coughed. "I am...deeply sorry, Damien...really..." The NSIWP Fuehrer left, for the first time in years thankful to be alive. 'Upstart! How dare he betray the revolution...next time we meet, it will be on my terms!'

Damien waited until he was completely alone, and then bent up, placing his head in his hands and starting to cry, pain wracking through his body.

"What's he doing?" The servants asked that one of their number who was looking through the keyhole. Their master hadn't left his office that day.

"He's just sitting there...staring into space..." the questioned servant replied, trying to get a better picture.

"What are you lot doing?" A gruff voice demanded from behind them. The servants jumped to their feet and gave hasty salutes.

"Mr. Reinhart!"

The tall man, with shortly cropped blonde hair, acknowledged their salutes. "Is his lordship in?" Not waiting for an answer, he tried to open the locked office door. "I see." Reinhart took two steps back, and kicked the door repeatedly, until it swung open, protesting.

The servants suddenly vanished. Reinhart, not paying any attention, walked in. "Damien, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

The Dark Prince was staring fixedly at a pistol on his desk. "Begone, Reinhart..." he ordered, his voice commanding.

The NSIWP Lieutenant took a few more steps forward. "My lord, I really do think that you should consider this reasonably...I understand what you're going through, but..." Reinhart backed away at the sheer look of hatred in Damien's eyes.

"Do you really?...I doubt it..." Damien closed his eyes, and turned his head away. "I don't need to be lectured, Reinhart. Let alone by one of the men responsible for...for..." it seemed to be a tremendous effort for him to retain that outwardly calm expression.

Reinhart took a few steps closer once more, until he stood immediately before the desk. "Why don't you tell me what you're going through, then?" the older man asked, carefully. He kept a close eye on Damien's pistol.

"It's my fault..." Damien whispered, as if to himself. "I could have told Kathryn...I could have stopped Kroenen..." The Dark Prince turned to Reinhart, his eyes full of pain. "Please...tell me that I just made a mistake...tell me that I'm forgiven... that I can forgive myself..."

'...well, it's a relief to know that there's a human being somewhere in there...' Reinhart thought, as he suddenly lunged for the pistol and snatched it from the desk. "I can't..." Reinhart told Damien, "because you can't tell me everything that's troubling you...and would you believe me if I did tell you? Just like that?"

Damien nodded. "I'd like the gun back, then..." he coldly answered.

In response, Reinhart threw the weapon through the open window, sent it flying down into the sea. "I don't think that that's neccessary, my lord..."

"Then what else is there to do?" Damien's body shook with suppressed emotion, suppressed rage.

Reinhart paused. "What you need to talk to is someone private...someone who can absolve you of your...crime," he hastily stopped himself from saying 'sins' , "without there being a risk in your eyes of them breaking confidence..."

"Know you of such a person?" Damien asked, sarcastically. "Sounds like you almost think I should attend confess...ion..." the Dark Prince sighed. "You do..."

"Damien, just this once... the movement needs you, needs you at least as a counterpoint to that madman, Kroenen..." Reinhart knew that wasn't enough. "Think what Kathryn would say if you did attend confession over this matter... she knows how you feel about the Church, and there's nothing that would make it clearer to her how deeply sorry you are..."

Damien had his doubts that Kathryn would feel anything like that, but kept them to himself. "Well...I'll try it..."

When Damien decides upon a course of action, he follows it fast. Within a matter of hours he was in the massive central cathedral in Tarnaqin, waiting alongside the confession booths reserved for the nobility. A priest saw him and, bowing profusely, came to meet him. "My lord, are you awaiting someone?"

The Dark Prince fixed the priest with a cold glare. "No, actually. I'm here for confession. Go and tell your master that I'd like to see him as soon as possible."

"Err...well, this is highly irregular..." the priest stuttered, but he rapidly fled to find Dimitri II.

===========

The Patriarch dropped the bible he had been studying back onto the table. "It was such a nice day..." he moaned, collapsing back into his chair.

"Yes, Your Eminence... he did say, 'as soon as possible...'," the priest coughed.

"What am I going to do? He won't see anyone besides me, he'd take it as an insult...I haven't heard a confession in years!" Dimitri paused, and then laughed, "and it's been so pleasant...now I have to hear his?"

"My Lord Patriarch!" The priest gasped in surprise and shock. "He has come to seek absolution for his countless sins, and you would have us tell him that the one man he trusts can not hear him?"

The Patriarch sighed. "No...no...but...but..." Dimitri hit upon an idea. "Could you...maybe...contact Luciani...? Please? Ask him to deal with this?" Dimitri had several moral qualms about absolving the Dark Prince of his sins. He would have personally preferred to have let the evil man stew in them for the rest of his days, and then have the priest attending on the deathbed conveniently forget to show up. ...'forgive me, God...those thoughts do not fit one of your servants...'

The priest paused. There was something nice about that idea... he walked over to the special Cathedral Hotline to the Papal Nunciature, and dialled through to the Nunciature's staff. "Blessings be upon you, brother... could you please ask His Eminence to come and hear a rather special Confession..."

Cardinal Luciani had progressed to the point where he was making a regular round of visits to the major provincial diocese. He wasn’t enjoying himself much—travel did not really agree with him and his indigestion periodically kicked in to give him sleepless nights. He tried not to let his own physical discomfort color the evaluation of his surroundings, an effort which paradoxically resulted in what was probably a more benign view of much of the senior Roanian Church organization than might otherwise have been reflected.

As it happened, he was geographically convenient when the call came in regarding Prince Damien’s request. It was relayed to him as he was reading a stack of reports on the local Benedictine Province and its principal institutions, and it took a moment for him to readjust and understand exactly what was being requested.

An earnest and intelligent monk who had been delegated to assist him had relayed the request; now he stared at Dom Benet uncomprehendingly for a moment.

“He wants me to hear a confession?” the Cardinal blinked.

Dom Benet nodded. “A trifle unusual, Eminence, but in the context, not necessarily inappropriate.”

Luciani’s brows rose. “Indeed? How so?”

Dom Benet shrugged. “The highest Court circles—the royal family not excepted—are riddled with intrigue and factionalism, and as your Eminence has already observed, to some extent our senior clergy have become embroiled in these… affairs. Prince Damien has had very little involvement with the Church—speculation credits him with being largely areligious, if not anti-religious. He sees the value of cooperation by some elements of the Church as a political tool, perhaps, but there appears to be no real spiritual affiliation.”

“Under such circumstances, if he is experiencing a reversion of conscience, he might perhaps legitimately worry about it being perceived as an exploitable vulnerability, or signaling some kind of political implication. A comparative outsider would shield him from such risks.”

The monk’s smile turned a trifle cynical. “Then, too, it would be an exceptionally difficult position for any Roanian cleric to be the recipient of confidences from the Dark Prince, even under the seal of the confessional.”

“The ‘Dark Prince?’” Luciani repeated incredulously.

Dom Benet chuckled. “Oh. We’re so accustomed to the nickname we sometimes lose sight of the, er… double entendre, as it were. Prince Damien is, er… something of an unsympathetic figure, politically. One of the least popular members of the court. Considered something of a problem child even within the royal family. An ambitious man. Not noted for being over-fastidious in the means he chooses to advance his ambitions.”

“I see,” Luciani said, thinly. An appealing picture. He frowned. “I seem to recall some question of his being somehow affiliated with, or sympathetic with, that fascist movement…?

“Damien is believed to have some ties with the NSIWP, but no real identification with their ideology. The extent of the affiliation is debatable. Myself,” the monk again shrugged, “I would guess it is a matter of a tool he will use so long as it is useful, and discard if it becomes a liability.”

“An amiable portrait,” Luciani commented. He was not inclined to embroil himself in this domestic mess. On the other hand, he was obligated, as a priest, to respond to an expressed desire for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. It was the incontrovertible right of all Catholic souls, and Damien had been baptized a Catholic, at least. He sighed. “Very well.”

Trying to overcome his disgruntlement, he made his way to the Cathedral in Dom Benet’s wake.

The Archbishop willingly lent his study for the purpose, excusing himself with a rather unbecoming speed. Finally, the Prince was ushered in to confront the dry, dyspeptic, Cardinal; a physically unimpressive figure, with his thinning hair and steel-rimmed bifocals. He surveyed the Prince unemotionally, but not unwelcomingly. “You expressed a wish for Confession, my son?”

Before Damien had been led into the Cardinal's office, he had spent several minutes staring at the immense golden cross at the opposite end of the Hall of Reflections. Something about it seemed to disquiet him to no end, and it was with relief that he saw a small child carrying some crosses down the hallway. "Boy, what is it you're doing?" He growled.

The boy jumped, and bowed as best he could. "I'm bringing crosses to the penitents my lord, so that they may reflect upon their sins..."

Damien nodded, vaguely approvingly. "Well...I'm going in for a penance, so might I have one? To save you the effort of travelling back up here once I'm done." He regarded the child with the cold interest of an alien observer.

The boy gasped in relief, and passed him a small pure-gold cross on a golden chain. Damien held it up, and studied it carefully. "Tell me, young sir...what is it you give the commoners?" He asked, with a bored voice.

The boy bowed again. "Wooden crosses, my lord..."

"I see...well, thank you." Damien watched as the boy left the room, and then stared at the golden cross. He estimated its worth at around 400 marks, applying slight pressure to make it bend. '...it seems the church hasn't changed at all since that time in the Palace Chapel...' he thought and then, with an almost savage intensity, he bent the golden cross completely in half, his dark eyes filled with raw hatred.

A monk coughed behind him. "My Lord, his eminence the Papal Nuncio will hear your confession in the Archbishop's offices...shall I lead you there now?"

Damien pocketed the destroyed cross, and averted his eyes once more from the immense golden one. "Lead on, monk...lead on..."

=========

It was with an almost audible sigh of relief that Damien entered the business sections of the Cathedral, which more closely resembled an office building then the gilted and ostentious rooms of the nobility. Even when he had been in the Common Hallss, his mood had visibly brightened.

He waited at the door, composed himself, and entered as soon as he was invited.

=========

If the Dark Prince held any views on the appearance of the Cardinal, he hid them wonderfully. "Yes...I..." he paused, and sighed. "I fear I'm making a mistake...but... I've..." He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and tried to put the entire thing on a sarcastic level, something familiar to him.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned..." the last word was peculiarly emphasised, and he repeated it softly. "Sinned...worse than sinned...I..." he closed his eyes, and his voice was almost tearful. "How does this work...what is it I'm meant to do?"

Luciani blinked. He’d expected a man in spiritual crisis, but Damien was torn by contradictions beyond his ability to grasp and clearly beyond his depth. The man had no spiritual advisor of his own, and this was a unique moment in his life—perhaps a last window of opportunity for him to shed the confining garments of narrow worldly ambition and reach… what?

He sensed enormous power in the man, a leashed potential that was almost frightening in its promise of accomplishment—for good or ill. Silently, Luciani turned control over to Divine Providence. This one was beyond his ability, he worried, but all he could do was his best.

“Perhaps you could start by telling me why you’re here, my son, and what you want to accomplish.” His dry voice was neutral, inviting without promising, accepting without judging.

Damien nodded, melancholy overwhelming him. "...I've betrayed the one person on this plan who means anything to me..." he looked up at the ceiling. "I suppose you've heard about the explosion in Roslin? The destruction of that Orthodox Cathedral...?" He sighed. "I...almost lost someone dear to me in that..."

He looked pensive, and finally let the words go. "And I could have stopped it from happening..." his face seemed wracked with pain.

Luciani nodded, gravely. “Yes, a great many lives were lost. A terrible human tragedy. And you believe that you could have prevented it?”

"The second I read that speech in the newspaper... I knew I should have done something..." Damien looked downcast. "That imbecile Kroenen...and his stupid movement...and his talk about race and religion as if they actually mean something, as if they aren't something to be cast aside in favour of a greater power through uni..." he realised he had been less than tactful.

"Forgive me, Father..." the prince softly apologised. "I've... been under a lot of stress." Something more came to him, as he sat there silently. "I should have seen this happening... I should have known that Kroenen wasn't useful enough to offset his madness... but I didn't...and because of that...the woman I love..." He shook his head violently. "God... I...I hadn't...I had just let him do all these terrible things, do them in my name... I had eliminated people who had come to complain about him... I suppose this is my reward, then..."

He did start to cry. "But why did it happen to her? Why is she suffering?" His words were rambling, showing little of the normal control or sanity that normally powered him.

Luciani canted his head slightly. “Tell me, my son, who is “she?” What is she like? You must love her very much. Tell me about her, and why you love her so.” His voice was still dry, but it had a deep reservoir underneath it, an ocean of quiet and firm security.

"She's..." Damien turned red with mixed confusion and embarrasment. "She's Kathryn Finsternis, my...PA." He coughed, but then his expression soured even further. "And right now she doesn't even want to hear my apology..." he sighed, wondering if Reinhart had been right.

Luciani nodded. “The kind of strong love you feel for Kathryn is usually a good sign that the love is reciprocated—that she feels love for you as well. When we feel injured by those we love, it is often hardest to overcome such feelings. Perhaps understanding the nature of the injury Kathryn feels will help you understand how to make atonement.”

He nodded encouragingly to the Prince. “If Kathryn were sitting with us, trying to explain why she doesn’t want to listen to your apology, what do you think she would be saying? How would she explain it?”

Damien paused for a moment. Eventually, his words came. Slowly and labourously, he softly replied, "...she'd tell me that she blames me for the explosion, because I let Kroenen do these things to others."

The Cardinal nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me, do you think that her anger with you is because you let this ‘Kroenen’ bomb the Cathedral and she was injured? Would she be less angry if, perhaps, she had not happened to be in the Cathedral then?”

The Prince’s admission of complicity in the horrible crime would have made Luciani’s zucchetto rise off the top of his head had his hair been more abundant. As it was, the upward motion of the scanty strands was no match for the solidity of the headgear. But no trace of it appeared in his voice, which remained calm and encouraging.

From such a breed, once, were the Church’s best Inquisitors drawn. Fortunately much had changed in the last half-millennium or so, as regarded the Church’s methods. The goals, however, remained the same—nurture the health and growth of the immortal souls within the flawed human frameworks.