NationStates Jolt Archive

With the passing weeks, winter had become spring. The sun gathered strength, but still did not stave off the bitter cold of the arctic. The people, in their regular clothes suffered then, and continued to suffer to this day. Those who died last winter were mourned. The living, those who believed in such, stoically endured their torments as unavoidable tribulations sent by the Lord to plague mankind, and continued to close their windows against the icy winds which came throughout the year except summer. They prayed for summer, they longed for warmth, both in their bodies and their hearts. By this time, the distemper had decimated the ranks of the capitalists. The country's reconstruction from the rebellion was almost over. This year, fortunes would be made. With luck. For never had it been easy for buisinesses to boom. The corporations were exhausted by the wait for consumer confidence to return to status quo or better. All were ready to scramble on the slightest opportunity.

Ships and airliners arrived from neighboring countries, refugees of the war who had only recently decided to come home, bringing supplies, relatives, friends and many strangers. Each tide brought more people from the more popular allies of the government.

He stifled a yawn, his mind drifting away to the quiet of his office. He decided he wanted to talk to the Lord General. 'Parry and thrust diplomatically', he thought, the Lord General was skilled in fencing after all. He wanted to probe James' mind. Forget the silence that dawned from the accursed militarists, it was definately time to move. He tapped a button, a wide screen flew down from the ceiling abruptly, and he began to reach the hotline for the Iuthian Parliament.

"Greetings, this is First Councilor Lev Aleksandrov."

Springtime in Iuthia is often popular with the tourists as the sun wasn't quite as hot as it was in the summer and the cool winds around Iuthia Prima reduced the level of air pollution in the capitol city durastically. The flowers in central parks were in full bloomage and even the citizens had a bounce in their step as they enjoyed the seasonal weather.

It was mid-afternoon admist the flurry of activity in Central Command, so when the phone call came it was a bit of a superise to the Lord General's secretary, Alice Joannes, who wasn't expecting many called today; James was playing badmington in the courts with his fiancee, Liessa. A runner was sent to interupt him; thankfully he wasn't like many of the more historic leaders of Iuthia.

Lord General James deGritz had been rather busy with the various details of his up coming wedding as of late... the people of Zvarinograd had slipped his mind a little. Of course, their name of commonly associated with the horrible events during their failed uprising, the loss of such valuable diplomats was something which had damaged the IDC personally and had left scars on the organisation. However, now it was spring, the season of new beginnings.

Reaching his office, he looked over to his oak desk and then sat down on his comfortable leather chair before picking up the reciever and pressing the glowing button.

"I'm here now, Alice, put him through. Thanks." The man hadn't been kept waiting for too long, it had only been three minutes since he called, but he imagined such a wait would be expected for such a sudden call.

"Ah, First Councilor Aleksandrov. I apologise for the wait but I'm afraid you caught me off guard. How may we help our friends up North?"

"There's time enough, Lord General." He looked outside. Good weather at last, the season of constant blizzards had ended and with it, the silence between both countries. "Spring is wonderful, isn't it?" He said amiably, "If it isn't much to ask, how are you today?"

"Wonderful, First Councilor. I am engaged, my wedding will take place this season, you are cordially welcome if you wish."

"Congratulations, and I'll bear that in mind." Now, buisiness. "I like you, Mr. DeGritz, I would like to be your friend. We could be of great service to each other."

"I don't understand. What do yo--"

Lev laughed, "On a more serious tone. You should come here, after the wedding and the honeymoon. Give me some of your time and let me be your host. It could be a very profitable experience. Please consider it. Next year, the year after, For your country and for it's future. I believe it is important. We've never warred on each other, we've been allies for a long time." He paused, "Iuthia has huge land resources and a considerable population, strong people. We're land poor, we need our trade and we take pride in it. We travel far in sea and space. You have your astounding industrial power and the wealth it brings. We are greatly pleased, we have trade goods and the means to deliver them and you have the markets. But you have also goods we can use; the raw materials we need to support our networks. Together, we have potential. Grow, prosper to the benefit of it all. From here we can micromanage our economic growth."

"We would love to come over to Zvarinograd to talk business, it would be nice to see some snow for a change; we only get it in the few mountians we have." He paused. "Though I'm surprised your people didn't bring this up earlier or simply displayed an interest in increasing your imports from Iuthia."

James was a little perplexed, trade was something he rarely organised himself as it wasn't really his field. He was taught enough to do most of his Trade Ministers job should he be required... but mostly it wasn't something he got to involved in. Never the less, it would be good to see the First Councilor and it would be good for moral alround for the two to visit one another. Perhaps this was all about appearances, something which James could understand.

"Thanks." His hand shook as he took the glass of vodka, "That would be all, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

It was crystal clear, and distilled exclusively for the government. He needed the drink; he needed the keg. He took a sip and held it in his mouth, feeling it burn, his body twisting with the need of it. Then he spat it out and threw the glass. He had begun to drink to the point of insanity six years ago, before the former Premier had died. The preceding year his wife had come to the country from Iuthia with their children. For a time everything had been grand, but then she found out about his mistress of years and his daughter with her. He remembered her rage and his anguish. He should have divorced years ago, he thought, he damned the fact that a divorce could only be obtained by an Act of Parliament. At length she had agreed to forgive him, but only if he'd swear to immediately rid himself forever of his adored mistress and their daughter. Hating himself, he'd agreed. He had secretly given his mistress enough money to get out of the country and start a living, and she as well as her daughter had left the country. He had never seen or heard of them ever again. But though his wife relented, she never forgot the beautiful girl and child and continued to salt the ever-open wound. He had been drinking heavily. Soon, the drink ruled him and he was besotted for months on end. Then one day he had disappeared. Eventually the former Premier Alexey Zvarinsky, his friend, found him in one of the stinking vodka cellars infested with rats in southern Valkonezh and had carried him him and sobered him; then he had given him a gun.

"Shoot yourself or swear by your blood that you'll never touch drink again. It's poison to you, Lev. You've been drunk for almost a year. You've the children to think of. The poor kids are terrified of you; and I'm tired of pulling you out of gutters. Look at yourself, Lev! Go on!"

Alexey had forced him to look into a mirror. He had sworn and then Alexey had sent him to sea for a month with orders that he was to be given no alcohol. He had almost died. In time he had become himself again, and he had thanked his friend and live with his wife againt and tried to make peace. But there was never peace again between them--or love. She killed herself and her children. He mourned on their graves for weeks, months; and still continued to do so to this day. Now, just recently, Alexey had died of old age and he'd taken his place. Another grave on his mind, another thorn in his heart. It had seemed, friends were a luxury he couldn't afford. He'd wish it wasn't the same with James.

The grandfather clock began to sound seven. He shifted wearily at his seat. A few hours ago he had went off to sleep for a moment, but his dreams were bizarre and mixed with reality. He was in the square, his people in front of him, speaking of their future. Where to, what next? Some soothsayed a dark and ominous future, others thought of prosperity and peace, still others fell into apathy. To stand still and stagnate, isn't that the antithesis of humanity? Haven't man walked along the path of change for ages? Why stop now? Why not challenge status quo, to innovate, to expand, to conquer? He watched as his people fought and loved, rejoiced and suffered, but there was something missing. All they had did, from he time of the birth of the country until present day they had never sought beyond what is in front of them now. He needed to do something. Then, he woke up and came to his senses. He stretched and watched the city from his window and thought about his people. The city lay dark and a few flakes of snow were about; silent under the full moon. The streets were deserted and the doors of every building barred tight. Most of the people were either inside their homes and though they were as jam-packed there was neither sound nor movement aboard.

He watched for a moment, then let his mind roam. To Sisgardia, to Tarasovka specifically. He needed to call them to secure favorable relations with them and the whole of Sisgardia as well as begin trade between Cimmeria and Dajdbog on Mars. He reached for the phone again, but stopped to think. Then he decided to open a visual communication. Out of respect.


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Foreign Relations Communications Center,
Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Capital City of Vigvar,
Federal Sisgardian Fiefdoms,
Sisgardia.

The giant room, split into several levels, housed various means of communications, ready to receive and treat calls, transmissions and whatnot from anywhere in the Universe. Well, at least in the Galaxy. And so, a most beautiful young secretary pushed a button in a gracious move of her long and thin fingers, the incoming transmission redirected to a flat display. It took the local BSI less than a second to reconfigure the software to match that used by the incoming transmission and to secure the line from outer 'various disturbances'.

The young secretary smiled radiantly as she spoke in a soft and melodious voice.

"Greetings, you have reached the Foreign Relations Communications Center of the Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Please state the reason of your call."

The usual, introductions, business, end. The cycle repeats day in, day out, that's diplomacy. It's a game, sometime; somehow, I'd break loose and strike it rich. "First Councilor Lev Aleksandrov;" He kept a straight, poker face, "Forwarded is a public version of national information. The Council wishes to speak of securing free trade between our colonies; and quite possibly a favorable trading status with your people." He had paused to think, such a status would mean that the country’s economy would surge forward; he would stand him in good stead within political circles, giving him enormous face and thusly securing his position. He was on guard and careful not to reveal his true aim.