NationStates Jolt Archive

He straightened his vestments: alb, cincture, stole, tunic, chasuble, surplice, one by one, washed his hands, and entered the shattered ruins of his cathedral.

Francis-Xavier Mangunvijaya, head of the Tanah Burung Conference of Catholic Bishops, did not normally bother with the whole religious get-up. He was, truth be told, well to the liberal side in the social debates that rended the Church Universal. But even Mangunvijaya had to admit that the full garb conferred a sense of occasion that was hard to match. And so he carried extra incense and his most ornate Bible as he joined the back of the procession into the mother church of the nation in the ancient city of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia.

"Peace be with you," he began, as he reached the altar and turned to face the congregation packing the roofless shell of the church.

"And also with you," they responded, two thousand women and men speaking with a single voice.

Mangunvijaya cleared his throat, a little nervously.

"Before we begin the liturgy, adikku, my sisters and brothers, I must say this. It is some time now since the Knootian military invaded this city and this country. The evidence is all around us. Their artillery levelled this church, leaving us only the walls within which we gather. In the square outside, that same artillery massacred 273 priests, nuns and lay people who had been worshipping in this church.

"These successors of St. Sebastian, pierced through with a thousand bullets from a foreign land, are innocent martyrs to freedom. We commemorate them through the new statue of Our Lady to be built on this hilltop, to which so many of you have already made financial contributions. God willing, that statue shall soon overlook this city as a lasting memorial to them.

"But that is not enough, not nearly enough, nowhere near to enough. They were only the first to die. Everywhere, Knootian soldiers are killing us. We do not wish any military help, but there are so many who give aid and comfort to the invader.

I have written this open letter to my brother bishops and to all people of good will around the world:


http://medievalwriting.50megs.com/graphics/bernseal.gif

Brothers,

This letter is to invite you and all who wish to come, to a solemn high mass in memory of those priests and nuns murdered outside the cathedral of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia by invaders from Knootoss. We shall say a novena for their souls. People of all faiths are welcome.

The mass shall be held on Sunday, the xx day of February, here in the cathedral. It shall be in Latin, English and our own language, Tetemalayu. All are welcome.

The invader who massacred our sisters and brothers is still in our country, still killing, killing, killing. We are dying as a people and as a nation.

Brothers, please, pray for us. Please, come and pray with us.

+ F-X. Mangunvijaya, Bishop of BYMD
Approved + Hilario Cardinal Ximenes, Bishop of Matebian

To: The Most Reverend F-X. Mangunvijaya, Bishop of BYMD
From: Archbishop Gerard Olisadebe, Archdiocese of Central, Phonque

Your Excellency,

Many thanks for your kind invitation. Speaking for the Anglican community of Phonque. I can say that the sad events in your nation were felt keenly in our country; speaking for myself, I can say that they brought sorrow to my house.

I shall be honoured to be in attendance to commemorate the fallen.

untuk keamanan, brother,

Archbishop Gerard Olisadebe
Anglican Church of Phonque

To: Gerard Olisadebe, Archbishop of Central, Phonque

Dear Brother in Christ,

Your message reached me like a merciful angel bringing water to a man dying of thirst. Your kind words have touched me more than you can know, and it gives me joy to know that we are in your people's prayers. To receive a message from an Anglican communion gives me special joy, as the unity of the church, Christ's body, is a dream i treasure greatly. I shall await your arrival in BYMD with keen anticipation.

+ F.X. Mangunvijaya

Letter: <---- stupid line you need to post because a quote alone is not allowed

To: F-X. Mangunvijaya, Bishop of BYMD
From: Lieutenant-General Donner, Commander forces Ukun Rasikan.

Your Excellency,

I write to you because of the high mass you have recently announced, to be held in memory of those priests and nuns who were killed by the failed artillery strike outside the cathedral of Burung-Yang-Membuat-Dunia. First of all, I would like to express again my deep sympathy with the innocent casualties in that tragedy. I mourn their lives and spend much of my thoughts on how this could have happened and how it can be prevented in the future.

I would like to know if the high mass is intended as a remembrance ceremony for those who died, or if this is indended as a political statement against the Knootian and allied presence in Tanah Burung as part of operation Tempo Doeloe. If it is the former, I would humbly ask to be allowed to attend as a person without the uniform. I must admit to not being of your faith – being a member of the Verenigde Humanistische Federatie Knootoss – but I do recognise a shared spiritual bond between men and my feeling for the people that died as well as their relatives is sincere.

However, if you would prefer this to be a ceremony without Knootians then I perfectly understand this and respect that you wish to practice your rituals alone.

Yours,

Donner

Dinner, tag, will respond shortly...

On a peice of cheap local hotel stationary,


To: The Most Reverend F-X. Mangunvijaya, Bishop of BYMD
From: Jhonathan Binks, Reporter Thunderbay International News Corp.

Your Excellancy,

I have recently been assigned to this area to report on the Knootian intervention and its affects upon the population of Tanah Burung. I have heard of the memorial service you are planning. I respectfully request permission to both photograph the service and report on your sermon to the world wide public.

-With Deepest Respect,
Jhonathan Brinks.

OOC: Mainly a tag...

From the Desk of Domingo Chavez

X. Mangunvijaya,

It is always a sad day when our borthers and sisters in faith die in the line of their service to our Lord God. You have my deepest, heart felt appologies for this loss, and although I know no action will ever bring them back, they will always have a special place in the hearts and minds of our congregation. I hope you will allow me to attend in lieu of Bishop Rodriguiez Montoya, his health is not at its peak. However, as acting religious council to the First Speaker, I still represent Imitora. I pray that you will accept me, and look forward to further corespondance,

Yours In Christ
*Signed*
Father Domingo Chavez, S.J.
Religous Council to the First Speaker

Mangunvijaya got out his good stationery, the parchmenty stuff with the diocesan crest on it, and decided to use the quill pen to reply to some of his letters.

Dear Father Domingo,

Your words are like a healing balm in Gilead. Thank you for them. It would be my honour to welcome you in Bishop Montoya's stead. Please accept my greetings and benedictions to your church and to the people of Imitora. I should be especially grateful if you would tell the Bishop he is in my prayers.

Dear Mr Brinks,

Your interest in our humble ceremony is most welcome. It is a public event and i would be very pleased for you to attend and report upon it. My homily is equally a public statement which you may report if it seems worth the atttention of your readers. I must ask, however, that no photographs be taken during the liturgy of the eucharist.

Dear General Donner,

The doors of my church are open to all; there are none who shall be turned away. The mass is both remembrance of those who died and reflection upon their lives, and thus i cannot promise not to speak of matters political. For what is there in this world that is not in part politics? Nothing. I am pleased you have been reflecting upon the death of 273 people of this diocese duruing your army's attack on this city. If you wish to prevent further deaths, i say to you what i have said in public alrady: withdraw your troops from this country. With repentance can come reconciliation and forgiveness.

Times like these required certain formalities that Raijin had nearly forgotten how to perform. Struggling with the easily-torn stationery and the often-spilled inkwell, the leader of Krioval finally managed to find the elusive words he wanted while also managing to not destroy the letter as he had the past eight times. Biting down lightly on his tongue, he wrote:

Most Revered Francis-Xavier Mangunvijaya, Head of the Tanah Burung Conference of Catholic Bishops,

Witnessing the destruction of a place of worship and prayer weighs especially on the hearts of the people of Krioval. It has been nearly six years since the loyal populace has abolished not only an oppressive monarchy, but also resisted a great deal of religious strife. During the civil war that followed the king's death, one of our most glorious temples was razed by a traitorous priest. It has since been rebuilt, but scars of the soul last far longer than scars of the earth. While our people are not monotheistic, I wish to offer a modest donation to assist in your cathedral's reconstruction.

Further, I admit that my knowledge of the conflict in your lands is poor. Krioval often takes a position of neutrality in all but the most vicious wars, as far too much innocent blood has been spilled in the name of our country in years past. However, my thoughts are with you and your churchgoers in this time of pain. I would be honored to attend your ritual as the spiritual leader of Krioval; while we may serve different Gods, I feel we both serve the Spirit of Mercy and Compassion. May peace be upon you.

Commander Raijin Dekker

To: The Reverend François-Xavier Mangunvijaya, Bishop of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia
From: The Most Reverend Louis Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas, Archbishop of New Constantinople

Your Grace,

I would like to accept your invitation to attend Mass to commemorate the martyred innocents of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia, to express the sympathy of the people of New Constantinople, and indeed of all Pantocratoria, and to join with you in giving thanks and praise to the Lord God for the lives of these people, so tragically cut short.

Yours in Christ,

Louis Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas

The following letter is sent from Excalbia:


F.X. Mangunvijaya
Bishop of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia
Tanah Burung

Your Eminence,

The plight of your people has touched the hearts of all Excalbians. People of all faiths have gathered across the Empire to pray for your people, to pray for their safety and to pray for peace.

Your note invites people of all faiths and we in Excalbia have a long history of ecumenism. So, in that spirit, we have decided to respond to your invitation jointly. Not only shall we attend the mass and pray with you and your people, we shall be bringing with us a special offering. This has been received across the Empire in churches of many denominations and has been entrusted to us to deliver to you for the benefit of your people.

We look forward to being with you on the xxth of February and praying with you for your people and for peace.

In Christ,

+ John Cardinal Friesz
Archbishop of Citadel Excalbia

Most Rev. Blaine Repse,
Chief Bishop of Citadel Excalbia
Acting Secretary of the Synod of the Church of Excalbia

bump?

Brinks sniffed when reading the last part of the letter. What do you think I'm going to do...show that you don't turn wine into the blood of Christ...

"More letters, Your Grace." The young deacon placed them gingerly on Mangunvijaya's battered old desk.

"Ah, Krioval! Pantocratoria! Excalbia!" The Bishop sounded quite gleeful as he examined the post marks. He smiled even more broadly to read the letters, and immediately scrawled out replies: welcome, they said, welcome: each letter more flowery and effusive in its wording than the last.

"And one from the Itchy Man of the Church of the Rocks and Trees, Your Grace. He's coming himself."

"Really? In person?" Mangunvijaya paused for a moment, pondering the theological implications of a visit from one of the leaders of Tanah Burung's indigenous nature cult to the high place of Christianity in the nation. "I suppose we can find him a place on the floor. But tell him he will have to put on some clothes. This is a mass, not a mud bath."

The deacon hovered a moment longer.

"And transportation, Your Grace?"

"Yes, that's a thorny one. I'd like the international guests to come in by blimp and land here in the square. Check with General Donner's office if there will be any problem with that, will you?"

Myself and the entire nation Oyaji Fidelis would like to extend our deepest gratitude to you for your spirit during this time of crisis, as well as our most sincere condolences. If there is anything we can do for you, we shall. Although it may be late, I would like to attend the Mass, as well as help in the rebuilding process. If transportation is booked to the max, I shall have my private jet fly me to the church. Once again, we're extremely disquited. Our prayers go deep with you.

Yours in Christ,
Atsushi Hudson
Emperor of Oyaji Fidelis

His Grace the Right Reverend Ronald Kirkpatrick, Bishop of Eastergate, was in an uncommon mood for an Shieldian, especially a Shieldian clergyman. He paced up and down the echoing halls of St Jerome’s Cathedral wringing his hands. He had thought that the Grand Empire, with its wary eye always on the Church, was absolutely intolerable - but this meddling hand of its successor state! The sheer impudence of this new government in Jameston was beyond his comprehension - imagine, denying him permission to leave the country and attend a ceremony for innocents dead!

He had sent repeated letters to Jameston, of course, but to little avail. He had tried writing the Archbishop of Ádien, and, when ecclesiastical power had proven ineffective, even the Duke of Eastergate and his local Assemblyman. All had returned the same answer: the government thought that showing excessive solidarity with Tanah Burung cause at this juncture would cause undue hardships in Gallaga - the Archbishop had cautioned him against even writing a letter to Bishop Mangunvijaya. Not that a letter would get through anyway: Kirkpatrick suspected that Bradsworth’s government would see to that.

Kirkpatrick let out a low sigh - a habit he had been trying to kick since he took up the robe - and continued to pace. The situation was intolerable, simply intolerable, but what could he do when so many men were unwilling to take a stand against the tyranny of Jameston?

-----

Iansisle and her clergymen may have been unable - unwilling - to officially comment or take sides on the explosive situation in Tanah Burung, but that would never hold back private citizens - or rather those private citizens with an interest in anti-imperialism and enough money to travel off the Shield.

One such person was His Grace the Duke of Eastergate. Eastergate’s father raised him in the liberal - almost Protestant, according to the Church - manner now common among the leading aristocratic families of Iansisle. One of his teachers had even been a Hindu scholar whom his father had hired to teach him the ways of Gallaga for an eventual posting to the Company. The plans for Eastergate to become a civilized administrator on the vanguard of the Iansislean Raj quickly fell apart when his father died at the age of forty seven, leaving his sixteen year old son and heir to discover the miracles of drink and opiates.

Eastergate thus became the first of Iansisle’s new class of idle, educated landed elite. However, he would not be the last: anti-aristocratic reforms in the government, army, and Gallagan service turned the old classes of Iansisle upon their ear, driving them from their jobs as the protectors of empire and to their lush estates and posh town homes. Never had the ‘high’ social life of Ianapalis been more active, and it had all come to center on the Duchy of Eastergate on the city’s edge.

Amazingly, the increasing idleness of the upper-classes had fostered a embryonic sense of liberalism, although the reverse might have been expected. Eastergate and his cadre still felt the ‘paternalistic mission’ to ‘civilize the lesser peoples of the world’, as represented by Iansisle’s Gallagan Raj, but they had also grown to appreciate that some areas, such as Tanah Burung, had already reached the highest plateau of civilization which they thought attainable by nonwestern nations. To them, the Knootian invasion - or police action, however they would term it - was a bald-faced crime of aggression which had triggered an outrage of letter-writing and discussion groups in Ianapalan circles.

Now, ironically thanks to the decrepit old man who presided over mass at St Jerome’s like a commanding general and scared a young Eastergate half-witless, the Duke knew of something (slightly) more proactive that he could accomplish towards showing solidarity with the brave people of Tanah Burung. He had never been much of one for religious (and especially Catholic) ceremony. Eastergate was able to, by means of a contact in Noropia, smuggle first a letter and then himself out of Iansisle in the comfort and luxury due a ducal son of the Shield.

To the Most Reverend F.X. Mangunvijaya,

My heart was near ripped asunder when I heard of the terrible tragedy which befell the innocent and pious people of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia. I should deeply like to attend, in the name of all Shieldian peoples, the mass to commemorate these martyrs’ noble sacrifice which, God willing, shall not have been in vain.

In solidarity with the brave people of Tanah Burung,

Eastergate

((ooc: sorry about the long, rambling, self-serving and generally irrelevant nature of this post. I’m trying to get back in the habit of role playing and, well, I’ve always had way too much to say. ;)))

If transportation is booked to the max, I shall have my private jet fly me to the church.

OOC: Just a note here for everyone: there is only one airfield in Tanah Burung itself and it is used for military purposes. And no, you cannot use it. The Knootians will allow blimps, which will have to make a short landing at Tiga Burung first so the passengers can be checked for weapons etcetera. You can arrive by boat also but you'd better come a day early because there will be extensive security checks as the entry into the country is blockaded by Knootian and Etaran fleets.
It is very good to see Iansisle RP posts again, also!

IC:
---------------
BYMD
---------------

Early in the morning, before sunrise, the preparations began. Soldiers of the Knootian Defence Force prepared the square for the landing of blimps and Peace Corps troops charged with providing security for the event took up positions just out of range from the church and the square. They had been given instructions not to be visible to any of the guests – low profile – but to be ready in case any incident happened. Donner was taking no chances today.

Atop the building that had housed the collective presidency in BYMD, next to the Cathedral, flew both Knootian and Tanah Burung flags side by side. Two heavily armed guards stood to attention and yet more Peace Corps troops were held in reserve inside in case there would be a protest –and Donner knew that the only preconditions for a demonstration here were nice weather and the presence of third party foreigners of any kind.

Brinks wandered out into the early morning light sipping a cup of tea and carrying his camera. He looked casually dressed for church in a dark blazer a size too large. (It contained film and back up REM cards for his cameras) and a large camera case strung across his shoulder.

As he noticed the Peace Corps orginizing in the square he knelt down and began to take images of the scene. Soon he would wander up to the cathedral itself and take some images of preparations there. He would be all over the place today.

OOC: Knootoss I'm going to assume you already have his credentials and have given him a press pass.

As the sun came over the city, the soldiers finished their work and withdrew away from the Cathedral.

OOC: *nod*

Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas had never ridden in a blimp before and wasn't quite sure he liked the idea. Nevertheless, there he sat, as the blimp made a gradual descent towards the square. It landed softly, and with some relief, the Cardinal disembarked and stepped onto Tanah Burungi soil.

Raijin looked down from the blimp his engineers had hastily constructed for the occasion. I think they might have worked a little too fast, he thought as the craft shuddered slightly at a gust of wind. Focusing his thoughts briefly, the blimp once more glided smoothly into Knootian airspace. Make or break, right here. The airship was guided slowly to the ground. Out stepped two mid-ranking diplomatic officers, followed closely by the Commander of all Krioval. Raijin was dressed in the ceremonial uniforms of the civil, military, and spiritual leader of his country, which of course meant far more brightly-colored garb than usual. Fortunately, despite his shirt that threatened to outshine the sun, Parliament had been reasonably benevolent, and allowed him to forsake the elaborate cape, and he was allowed to wear solid black pants. Thank the Gods for small miracles. Raijin hoped that his headband, which declared his primary allegiance to Solokaro, the Kriovalian Warrior God of Light.

The Commander and his entourage stood at the entrance to the Kriovalian blimp as he pondered his next action. Knootoss. Over 100 times our population. Great Gods! He decided to wait for the security forces to come to inspect the delegation for weapons.

It is very good to see Iansisle RP posts again, also!

((Always nice to be appreciated. ;)
Oh, and you know that Iansisleans will be coming by water. Smack me upside the head if I RP anything incorrectly.))

"Can you imagine the nerve of these Knootians?" asked the short, stocky man behind the wheel of the Snowy Bank as he crossed his arms and waited for the boarding party from a nearby warship. "Stopping a Shieldian ship - the nerve! the nerve!"

The Bank, a tiny steam packed registered in Mansmouth, lay hove to outside Tiga Burung awaiting an inspection party. It had been a long trip, beating around Cape Deliverance and dodging Royal Revenue Service cutters in the Western Marches, but Captain Arnolds had been promised a rich - and (mostly) legitimate payoff from his noble employer. For a man and crew engaged in the lucrative but dangerous enterprise of running untaxed supplies to - and desperate people from - the Shield past the Revenuers and the Navy, it had been far too simple to pass.

But now he had to suffer the smuggler's ultimate humiliation - being boarded without a trick up his sleeve. All legitimate-like. Disgusting.

"You'd best go inform 'His Grace' that his friends will be here soon," grumbled Arnolds, casting a sidelong look at one of the crewmen. Did he detect a snicker at his untenable situation?

Being boarded by a Shieldian after a long and hard-fought chase was nothing of which he could be ashamed - being boarded without a fight by a Dutchman! - that he could never live down.

Arriving by blimp was the last thing Cardinal Friesz had expected when he left for Tanah Burung. He looked at the contraption skeptically as it lowered itself to the already crowded grounds in front of the ruined cathedral. For his part, Bishop Repse had enjoyed the adventure of traveling by such a little used, in the Empire at least, means of conveyance. He smiled as we watched the ground rise up towards and was glad, for a while, to be away from the brewing scandal surrounding Presiding Bishop Purins’ sudden demise in the Confederation.

After the airship touched down, the crew quickly secured the vessel and opened the passenger hatch, extending the boarding ladder. The captain smiled and offered his hand to the church leaders as they stepped out of the blimp and back on to solid ground.

Cardinal Friesz sighed with a bit of relief. Bishop Repse shook his head and chuckled. “You can’t tell me, John, that you didn’t enjoy that at least a little bit.”

The cardinal shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” he offered with just a hint of smile.

“Do you recognize anyone?” Repse said looking around. He was sure he didn’t recognize anyone among the crowd.

“No,” Friesz shook his head. “Wait!” He nodded toward the Pantocratorian delegation. “Over there, Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas from New Constantinople.” Friesz smiled. “Come, let me introduce you. We’ll see if he knows where Bishop Mangunvijaya is or whether he has a schedule.”

The two men – Friesz in the traditional red robes of a Catholic cardinal and Repse in the white alb and blue stole of the Church of Excalbia – walked towards the Pantocratorian cardinal, ignoring the Knootian security detachment.

OOC: Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas is the Archbishop of New Constantinople - the less cynical of Pantocratoria's two prominent cardinals, whom you might remember from earlier RPs.

IC:

"Your Eminence!" called Poitiers-Phocas as he turned around to see the Excalbians. He embraced Cardinal Friesz, recognising him instantly. "It is good to see you again. And, I'm afraid I don't believe we've met, Your Grace?"

He extended his hand in friendship to Bishop Repse.

Tiga Burung
Unfortunately for Captain Arnolds, one of the boarding Knootians had beaten the crewmen to the quarters of the Duke of of Eastergate. After knocking without waiting for an answer, the stocky Knootian with a poorly shaved chin and a sloppy uniform swung open the door...

"Aaah, good morning!” he said happily. “Nice little ship you have here mr. Easterhen. A bit small, but that should speed up the search just fine." He began looking about the private quarters until he spotted the Dukes luggage. “You don’t mind me looking around a bit I hope?” – the Duke was no doubt about to give the Knootian a well-derserved response but when the man spotted an ornate sabre hanging at the wall. “What’s this? The ships register did not report any weapons on board…”

(ooc: yes, the rather tricky arrival routes are indeed entirely controlled by Knootian troops at the moment. I'm assuming that they are letting peope through, however, unless otherwise stated)

A mixture of religious and civil buildings ringed the hilltop square, all of them at least 200 years old, all of them looking slightly battered from the recent artillery bombardment, although repairs were under way and the Governor's Palace, flying the Knootian and Burungi flags, seemed to have a new coat of paint.

From the cathedral flew the flags of the Vatican, Tanah Burung, and the countries who had confirmed ecclesiastical visitors. Above the door to the cathedral were carved the words: Mari Diharapkan. Come and be healed, or come and be given hope: scholars differed on the best translation from Tetemelayu into English. As always, the doors were open.

Surrounding the square, a thin black line of nuns held back a cheering crowd and kept the press of local people from crowding the distinguished guests. In front of the cathedral stood Bishop Mangunvijaya, a small man who looked lost in his slightly oversized vestments, with a broad grin plastered across his face. As the first arrivals introduced themselves, he strode forward to meet them.

"Brothers, a thousand times welcome to our humble city! A thousand thanks for attending!"

---

(Wiki entry for BYMD City, in case anyone feels like tossing in local colour:)

The ancient city of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia (Tetemelayu for the Bird that Created the World) has existed longer than any history book in Tanah Burung can say. BYMD, as it is known, perches on its mountain, overgrown with trees and vines, sloppily staring down at the sea and the new city below.

The old walled city is dominated by the vast old temple of the Creator Bird, untouched outside, but inside containing a Portuguese-era church. Next to it, the white walls of the mother Cathedral of the whole country, engraved with the plain words: "Mari Diharapkan." Come, and be Healed, or Come, and be Given Hope: the interpretors differ on which translation to use. The hill is honey-combed with ancient catacombs which hid the indigenous nature-worshippers from Catholic and Muslim conquerors over the centuries.

The new city is an active port and enjoys maglev connections to Ukun Rasikan to the north and Oglethorpia to the south.

Eastergate had never seen a cat o' nine tails but he'd never had such a burning desire to see one used either. He glanced the impudent little man (even the 'enlightened' idle noblemen weren't immune to traditional Iansislean class distinctions) up and down with a scathing eye; surely the RIN would have pitched him overboard had he ever disgraced his ship with such an appearance?

A few moments later, there came a knock. "Your Grace? Cap'n Arnolds' compliments an' there's a party of -" The seaman's voice trailed off as Eastergate beckoned him him in and the sailor saw the Knootian. "Oh - beggin' your pardon," he added with red cheeks.

He did not condescend to speak to either man as the search went on. At last, Knootian spotted his family's crest of crossed swords and ornate woodwork. He smiled thinly at the man's ignorance and allowed the Iansislean sailor to explain.

"Oh, don't be worrying," he said cheerfully. "Those blades've not held an edge in probably a century or more, if'n they ever did. 'd probably snap should we ever want to sharpen 'em."

“Hmmm”, the Knootian grumbled thoughtfully. “Well, this room seems all-right. Thank you, mr. Easterhen, and welcome to Tanah Burung.” He waved to sailor and Duke alike as he left to search another cabin.

((OOC: just had to throw that in. Consider yourself cleared to proceed to BYMD which will hopefully have more polite Knootians to search you again. :p ))

(OOC: Sorry about mixing up your cardinals! I have a hard time keeping my own straight sometimes! I've fixed the post.)

Cardinal Friesz returned the embrace, remembering Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas’ warm greeting and gentle words of wisdom when they met in New Constantinople. “It is good to see you again, your Eminence. I trust that all is well back home.”

As the Pantocratorian extended his hand to Bishop Repse, Cardinal Friesz said, “Your Eminence, allow me to introduce you to Bishop Blaine Repse, the Church of Excalbia’s Chief Bishop of Citadel Excalbia.” Friesz’s nose involuntarily wrinkled. “And after the… untimely death of Presiding Bishop Purins, Bishop Repse is also serving as the Acting Secretary of the Synod of the Church of Excalbia.”

Bishop Repse shook Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas’ hand firmly and smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, your Eminence. Cardinal Friesz has spoken highly of you.”

Friesz and Repse turned to face the cathedral as Bishop Magunvijaya appeared on the steps and greeted the assembled guests.

As the other guests filed towards the cathedral to greet their host, Friesz and Repse took their place and waited their turn.

Brinks took several images as he stood just outside the cathedral doors. One of a guest meeting Bishop Mangunvijaya. A second of two clergymen greeting in warm enbrace in the square.

The best one so far was of the wall of nuns holding back the crowds from the diginitary reception line.

I wonder if the locals get too pushy they get wacked on the head with a ruler or something, now that would be a picture "Nun Crowd Control" likely get a few front pages with that one.

Brinks shrugged rumor had it that a Knootian delegation was going to attend. Of course an ealier incident involving a fruit throwing populace had inadvertantly led to Rumbiak's duel and death. And that had led to the birth of the Rumbiak Brigade itself. I wonder if they'll throw fruit again or something worse.

edit OOC ;
Surrounding the square, a thin black line of nuns held back a cheering crowd and kept the press of local people from crowding the distinguished guests

The Thin Black Line....Coming Soon to a Theater Near You!

((OOC: just had to throw that in. Consider yourself cleared to proceed to BYMD which will hopefully have more polite Knootians to search you again. :p ))

((I hope you mean that as in "Knootians who are more polite than this fellow" and not "more Knootians who are as 'polite' as this fellow" :P))

Left to his own devices at last, Eastergate had a seat in his ornate cabin - furnished out of his own pocket - and opened a leather-bound copy of Iólla. After a time, the Bank's engines restarted and the small steamer - spewing coal smoke darker and fouler than any aircraft fuel - chugged its way to BYMD. Arnolds did not consider the Duke's reclusive behavior unusual; he had seen hardly head nor hide of the nobleman since they set out from Rorielanding.

The truth be told, Eastergate got seasick even after so long at sea and had no wish to be sick in sight of Arnolds, his men, the Knootians, or even his own servants. It wasn't right, a Shieldian - especially a properly born one - getting an upset stomach from the movement of the ocean, which ought to be more natural to him than his own home.

So it was that the Duke of Eastergate, much paler than he was embarked in Noropia, landed in Tanah Burung with two of Arnolds' crew and his small retainer. He could not wait to see what nonsensical bureaucracy the Knootians had thrown up here.

The search in BYMD was considerably shorter, and done efficiently by polite men and women wearing Peace Corps badges on their sleeves. They had even bothered to learn the proper form of address and a small military honorary ‘hague’ of six men had been gathered when he went ashore, and they were standing to attention on both sides of the walking plank.

“His Grace the Duke of Eastergate!”, he sergeant of the bunch yelled, which was the cue for a soldaat in the back to press the play button on a small radio installation which promptly started to play a downloaded recording of the United Kingdom of Iansisle as loud as the volume would permit. All the soldiers saluted as seriously as they could.

A somewhat less heartfelt welcome was given to Captain Arnolds. The last thing the peace corps lieutenant did before leaving the ship was handing him a small pile of forms (about sixty pages with all sorts of unpleasant questions about himself, his ship and his crew) to be filled in before anyone of his crew could disembark.

OOC: some elements of my military are more competent then others, as you may have noticed *cough*. I don't think I could make it any less subtle. :P

The pomp brought a familiar smile to Eastergate's face. Such veneration was now out of favor on the Shield; only at the Grand Balls held in ancient homes near Ianapalis every few months could one relive the faded glory of the ancien régime - and Bradsworth's government was even looking to crack down on those! Iansisle might be nominally a 'United Kingdom', but a combination of revolutionary attitude and royal apathy were quickly eroding those pillars of tradition, faith, and privilege upon which the Grand Empire had been based.

Eastergate breezed through any interviews, trying to maintain the sense of aloof detachment that every proper son of the Shield ought to when speaking to a common-born foreigner. At last, the paper work completed, he ascended towards the old city of Burung-yang-membuat-dunia, his servants hurrying to keep up with the Duke's long strides, until he stood beneath the white walls of the greatest cathedral in Tanah Burung.

Meanwhile, Arnolds was swearing and blaspheming in every language he knew - being a Shieldian, that meant one. It was unpatriotic to learn foreign tongues, but he knew English backwards and forward again and used every curse ever given utterance fluently and creatively. Most of his magnificent performance was directed at the poor Peace Corps lieutenant who had possessed the absolute gall to do his duty. As necessary, the nonstop chain of crude comments was directed at the lieutenant's retreating back or, from the Bank's bridge, at anyone within earshot in the port of BYMD.

Legitimacy is the worst, he thought as he finally retired to his cabin to do the paperwork

(ooc: think black line, love it!)

Mangunvijaya made a beeline for the cardinals from Pantocratoria and Excalbia. "Eminences, a thousand thanks for coming to our poor city! I hope that things go better in your country than in mine. Your presence hunbles us all." As he spoke, altar girls offered flowers to the visitors, doing their best to proceed in order of ecclesiastical rank. The Bishop watched them make far more mistakes than he would ahve liked, hoping the visiting dignitaries were in a forgiving mood.

As Commander Raijin alighted, he was greeted by Bendoro, the Bishop of Tiga Burung, who looked oddly at the sun symbol on his head band, then shrugged and proceeded with the greeting. Bendoro was what passed for a theological conservative in the country, and might have been less pleased than Mangunvijaya to see this symbol of anotehr religion so prominently displayed. Just as well, then, that he had no idea what it meant. Nor, for that matter, had he much intention of learning. "Sir, many welcomes to Tanah Burung," he said, holding out his hand. "I am afraid i kow little of your country, but i look forward to learning more about it. New friends in these dark times are a great blessing to us."

Maria de Magalhaes, press liaison for the Bishops' Conference, looked about for journalists, handing out "quick facts" about the church and the state of the war. None of her fact sheets were terribly complementary to the Knootian forces, or "godless invaders who care only for gold and blood" as the fact sheets referred to them. Seeing him snap photographs, she offered one to Brinks.

As His Grace, the Duke of Eastergate, climbed the hill towards the old city, he attracted a crowd of children, who danced about him as he walked. "Good morning, mister," they cried out cherrfully. "Spare some change, mister?" A nun shooed them away as he and his new rag-tag entourage reached the square. "Show some respect, children!" she commanded. The children scattered in fear, and she turned to greet the Duke. "I apologize for these little savages," she said. "They learn so little about respect for their elders today. What a mess this country has become." She shook her head, more in sadness than anger.

Brinks was a photojournalist...but he smiled a wordless thanks and took the sheet of paper and pocketed it. Usually he found that his editors created the copy more than he ever did.

As Commander Raijin alighted, he was greeted by Bendoro, the Bishop of Tiga Burung, who looked oddly at the sun symbol on his head band, then shrugged and proceeded with the greeting. Bendoro was what passed for a theological conservative in the country, and might have been less pleased than Mangunvijaya to see this symbol of anotehr religion so prominently displayed. Just as well, then, that he had no idea what it meant. Nor, for that matter, had he much intention of learning. "Sir, many welcomes to Tanah Burung," he said, holding out his hand. "I am afraid i kow little of your country, but i look forward to learning more about it. New friends in these dark times are a great blessing to us."

The Kriovalian moved to meet the figure approaching him. Huh. That hat...the garb...must be a Bishop, like Selekar. Raijin noticed the features of the Bishop shift as he scanned the Commander. Upon reaching the headband, Raijin cringed inwardly. I forgot that not all Catholics are like Kriovalian ones, he thought. This one's got to be a conservative! He found himself wishing his partner Kiv was traveling with him; Kiv's telepathy might have gained more information. Then again, Raijin didn't want the hassle of explaining the intracacies of Kriovalian same-sex marriage to his hosts. Raijin only barely realized that the Bishop had started to speak and welcome him. The Kriovalian quickly marshalled a response while grasping and shaking the Bishop's extended hand.

"I thank you for your welcome, Bishop." Raijin hoped it was the right title. "It is sad to see such a glorious...cathedral?...in such a state. Perhaps when there is peace again Krioval will be able to assist in its reconstruction?

"In any case, I must also thank you for inquiring of my country. We are well, and have had peace for six years now. I also admit I know little of your country save what is available through diplomatic channels, which is sadly not much. I imagine Tanah Burung must be beautiful under...different circumstances."

Raijin continued to walk the diplomatic tightrope as best as possible. He didn't want to upset the people of Tanah Burung, but at the same time, he had heard of, and now witnessed, the extent of Knootoss's power. Peace will be welcome, he thought. There's diplomatic and economic potential in this region so long as we don't piss anybody off.

As His Grace, the Duke of Eastergate, climbed the hill towards the old city, he attracted a crowd of children, who danced about him as he walked. "Good morning, mister," they cried out cherrfully. "Spare some change, mister?" A nun shooed them away as he and his new rag-tag entourage reached the square. "Show some respect, children!" she commanded. The children scattered in fear, and she turned to greet the Duke. "I apologize for these little savages," she said. "They learn so little about respect for their elders today. What a mess this country has become." She shook her head, more in sadness than anger.

Eastergate could hardly be considered an 'elder' with regards to age, so he assumed that the respect which the nun implied ought to be directed towards him came from another source. He smiled at the street urchins but did not condescend to toss coins from his overflowing purse.

"Now, now," he said, "there is nobility in all peoples, especially their children. No amount Knootian mismanagment can mask that."

"Thankyou so much for the kind welcome, Your Grace." replied Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas. "His Eminence Cardinal Conomos sends his regards and speaks quite highly of you. You made quite an impression on him at the Council of New Rome back before all this began. Would that the situation here in Tanah Burung was such that you had time for the intellectual niceities of theological debate! The people of my archdiocese are praying for you and your flock, Your Grace, and we pray for the intervention of the Holy Spirit in the upcoming elections in Knootoss, which we hope will see the election of a government which will leave your country in peace."

At this moment he was handed a flower by one of the altar girls, who had been tugging on his red robe to get his attention. He bent over and accepted the flower, smiled warmly and thanked the girl, who went off on her way.

"It is such a shame that the Holy Father can't attend, with his health problems confining him in the Vatican." the Cardinal added. "I suppose that we should all be grateful that even in this time of war and hardship, we all have our health."

"Yes, your Grace," Cardinal Friesz said after Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas finished, "thank you for your invitation. Cardinal Walsh sends his greetings from the Vatican and assures you and your people that the Holy Father is remembering you constantly in prayer." Friesz and Repse accepted their flowers from the altar girls with smiles and gentle pats on the head.

"Your Grace," Friesz continued to Bishop Mangunvijaya, "this is Chief Bishop Blaine Repse, Acting Secretary of the Synod of the Church of Excalbia."

"Your Grace," Repse said with a bow. "I am honoured to be here and to express our solidarity with your people." Repse leaned close to Mangunvijaya, "At a more appropriate time, I would like to discuss with you the distribution of an offering that churches, of all denominations, have collected across Excalbia for the people of Tanah Burung..."

The wind was picking up slightly, bringing the flags to full display: the Burungi banners on several buildings, red and black and yellow, the colours of the first pattriots. The Vatican emblem on the cathedral, simple dignity in yellow and white. The hated green-white-purple banner of Knootoss, the word "democrata" seeming to taunt the local people, a cruel jest against those whose democracy had been stolen from them.

Mangunvijaya smiled at Cardinal Poitiers-Phocas' mention of the Council of New Rome, where he had tried to convince a skeptical company of bishops of the merits of same-sex marriage. "Ah yes, my first trip outside this country," he replied. "I enjoyed the conference immensely, although i fear my lack of subtlety in theological debate left me in somewhat of a minority. Truly, i long for the days when there was nothing to argue but a fine point of doctrine."

He felt the wind shift and shuddered a little. Time to get the guests inside. The cathedral might be roofless, but its walls would still offer some shelter. The winds could be fierce, here on the hilltop.

"Bishop Repse, a pleasure." He bowed to the Excalbian. "Perhaps we might speak after the mass about your collection. It's very generous indeed, and msot timely. You see, the church is the onyl institution really able to deliver food and medical supplies to rural areas these days.

"But please." He beckoned the others in the direction of the cathedral. "Let's go inside."

(ooc: out of time right now, the rest of this post when i get back online)

Repse and Friesz nodded and followed the bishop and the rest of the guests inside the damaged, though still magnificant, cathedral.

Bishop Bendoro smiled as Raijin spoke of reconstruction help for the cathedral. "We must speak of this more, Sir, after the mass is ended. I'm sure all forms of closer connection between our countries would be wonderful, once we are lucky enough to have once agian the peace that your nation enjoys. But you'll have to forgive me, i have a homily to give and mustn't be late for my esteemed colleague's mass." He rolled his eyes as he said the word esteemed.

As the guests filed into the cathedral, they saw an interior with walls covered in intricate carvings. Some of the windows still bore their stained glass images of the stations of the cross, but others gaped open, only a few shards of glass stubbornly clinging. Only remnants remained of what was once a roof painted with magnificent frescoes dating from the earliest days of the Portuguese presence, more than 500 years old. Flanking the altar were statues of a dark-skinned Virgin and of St. Joseph the Worker. Above it, the image of Christ on the cross was less one of crucifixion, than one of resurrection. Although nailed to the cross, Christ's hands seemed to be almost taking flight, echoing the shape of the wings of the carved dove, representing the Holy Spirit. Those who took time to study the face of this Christ would see suffering, yes, but also an expression of acceptance, and peace, and joy.

With no instruments to accompany them, a children's choir began to sing. Crosses and an intricate Bible proceeding them, two Bishops followed the formal procession through the church to the altar. Mangunvijaya and Bendoro were known to rather cordially despise each other: they were the most progressive and the most conservative bishops in the country, respectively. Their presence together signalled their reconciliation. Mangunvijaya spoke the opening words.

"The Lord be with you."

The Kriovalian Commander waited for the Bishop to complete his thoughts before replying "Hai," and bowing slightly to the cleric. A short affirmative response was best here, he felt. To speak much at this point would be to show weakness, in its own way. Far better to have a conversation after the Mass was completed.

Looking at the shattered cathedral brought unwelcome memories coursing through Raijin's mind. Bralos and the Christian rebellion nine years ago, where his political maneuverings had barely saved Kiv's life. The general who had died in Kiv's place. That man's child, Alexei, now with the Commander and Kiv. Torokara battlefield six years ago. The traitorous High Priest Branok who had attempted to obliterate Krioval's religion and kill Raijin's mother to eradicate the Kriov line. How Raijin had killed the priest himself, with his bare hands, ripping the man's still-beating heart out of his chest and howling his triumph to the rising sun.

He realized that he had been clenching his fists, and his knuckles were white from the strain. Raijin willed himself to relax - the past was over now. All that could be done was to go forward, right? As the choir began to sing, the memories, as if defeated by the spirit of the children, retreated, and Raijin felt at peace again.

A photograph they say is worth a thousand words. Brinks took one that shifted international politics dramatically. In the morning light, as people sat down in the pews of the roofless cathedral. Brinks took a few photo's of the damaged structure.

He focused on the carved slab of native stone without reading it. Just another stock image. But he stopped for a moment and stared at the words most in Berungi or some other local dialect but a few words were readable:

Captain Thomas Crawford
Regent and Protector
Murdered by the Foul
Allies of the Knootians

It was the crest that actually got his attention. The sheild with a castle gate flanked by two Wayverns over a lighthouse.
I've seen that before...where though

The answer was the cover of his passport or the flag he grew up pledging allegance to. Brinks didn't know it, but he was the butterfly in this situation.

The liturgy of the word stressed readings from Israel's captivity in Babylon, and the hope for redemption. Then with a flourish Bishop Bendoro climbed into the pulpit and began his homily. The wind made his microphone crackle, but he shouted on through it, his voice a storm.

"Brethren, we say more than once in this liturgy, Peace Be Upon You. We are a people of peace. Yet this peace given us by God Himself has been stolen from us by a cruel foreign army. Daily they kill our people, rape our women, steal our children from their homes, torture our fighters, deny us any form of human rights!"

Bishop Mangunvijaya looked startled. This did not sound like the sermon he had ordered. Not at all like it. He started forward to touch his brother bishop on the arms, but Bendoro shook him off.

"Christ did not quail meekly in the face of oppression, you know," he shouted. "He overturned the money changers tables! He chased them from the tmple. How dare they defile the Tenmple of God, Christ asked them in his righteous anger!"

Bendoro stopped cold, then pointed to the back of the cathedral.

"There are some modern-day money-changers among us, my brethren. Those soldiers who say they serve Knootoss but serve only the false God they call the Invisible Hand. You cannot serve two masters, you cannot serve God and Mammon. To serve Mammon is to serve Satan, nothing less! Christ drove the money changers from the temple. Can we do less? Can we let these devils stay in our country? Never! Never! Never!"

Bishop Mangunvijaya, looken shaken, came forward at last. "Peace be with you, and with all people," he said to the gathered people, glaring sharply at Bendoro. "Time to prepare the Eucharistic feast, i think."

BYMD City, Tanah Burung

Cardinal Joseph Cambili, in one sense, could be considered one of the most important people in all of Tiburon. In Tiburonese North America- stretching across the entire former United States and Canada (Dixie aside, which was Allanean), he was one of only three remaining cardinals, and he was considered the only serious bid for papacy from Tiburon in the event that something would happen to the Pope. And now, along with the athiest Undersecretary of State, he would be an ambassador to Tanah Burung. The blimp thing and the search seemed to annoy the Undersecretary more- Knootoss and Tiburon were allies, even if Tiburon strongly opposed imperialism- but being late to the ceremony was inexcusable. Still, nothing could be done. They quickly stepped in to the war-scarred church and did their best to disappear in the crowd.

"Eminence!" exclaimed Father Locatelli, the priest who had been tasked with greeting late arrivals. "Please, let me find you a seat!" He shooed some minor local dignitaries out of one of the pews, not forgetting to cross himself as he faced the altar. "Make room for the Cardinal and his friend! You can stand up."

Raijin Dekker, Commander of all Krioval, looked on in horror as the conservative Bishop railed against the Knootian occupation. Wordlessly, he slipped from the back of the ruined cathedral and ventured outside. Seeking a decent spot, he sat and closed his eyes. For the second time that day, he wrestled with the memories of Krioval's civil war; the battles between the Christian theocrats, the amoral researchers, and the rest of the population, caught between the hammer and anvil. Somehow, outside and away from the harsh sermon, Raijin's tension slowly abated. So long as I lead, Krioval will never feel religious strife again, the man thought. And people here will desire the same, given time.

Sitting together, Cardinal Friesz turned to Excalbian Bishop Repse during the sermon. “Bishop Bendoro’s words would be well received in Citadel Excalbia, I believe,” Friesz whispered.

“Indeed,” Repse replied, “we should circulate them together with your sermon and Bishop Purins’ sermon on the Order.”

Friesz nodded. “We need to find more people willing to speak out so strongly against the Order.”

BYMD City, Tanah Burung
Sitting entirely in the back of the Cathedral, General donner looked down and stared at his shoes, polished neatly for the occasion. The solemn minimalism of his civilian clothes could not hide the colour of his skin or the inflection of his voice and he was sure a lot of faces were turned now. “What a fool I was”, he thought, “to come here.” With apprehension he observed some of the local dignitaries staring at him from the other side of the alley.

Outside of the Cathdedral, several men moved. One soldaat behind a low brick wall raised his rifle but he was shooshed down. Only if there was violence would they move.

The Church of the West
Storm clouds gathered over Knootcap as the parallel sermon in the Renaissance-style Church of the West began. The church towered just above the surrounding flats, competing with the urban sprawl of the metropolis. Inside of the church a man in simple dark robes stood before an unusually large congregation, speaking with calm, baritone voice.

“In the litany last Sunday in my home church we had some extra petitions, one of which was "Protect, O Lord, our righteous cause". When I met the reverend in the porch, I protested against the audacity of informing God that our cause was righteous--a point on which He may have his own view. I hope it is quite like ours, of course, but you never know with Him.

My own memories of the last war have haunted my dreams for years. The Shadow War had in it every temporal evil; pain and death, isolation from those we love, toil under arbitrary masters, hunger, thirst, and exposure. I'm not a pacifist. If it's got to be it's got to be. But the flesh is weak and selfish.

War may build up human souls as well as destroy them, and in it we risk to become either extreme patriots or extreme pacifists if we treat our Patriotism or our Pacifism as a part of our religion. If we, under the influence of the partisan spirit, come to regard these as the most important part of our religion then, quietly and gradually, this religion becomes merely part of the "cause" and our faiths are valued chiefly for the excellent arguments it can produce in favour of the Knootian war effort or against the plight of the Burungi people.

When meetings, pamphlets, policies, movements, causes, and crusades mean more to us than prayer, sacraments and charity we lose the willingness to submit to divine agency, and we lose the ability to resist the malign influence of other forces. Those who would promise freedom to the Self are the means of ensuring its bondage.”

He looked around. There was absolute silence, one man in front was nodding quietly. Tentatively, he went on: “The war aggravates the permanent human situation so that we can no longer ignore it. But life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice and plausible reasons have never been lacking for putting off our lives until some imminent danger has been averted or some crying injustice put right. But humanity long ago chose to neglect those plausible reasons. They propound theorems in beleagured cities, conduct metaphysical arguments in condemned cells, make jokes on scaffolds. This is not panache; it is our nature.

A man may have to die for his country: but no man must in live merely for his country. He who surrenders himself without reservation to the claims of a nation, or a party, or a Market is rendering unto Caesar that which of all things most emphatically belongs to God himself.

In war or in peace, the life of the mind must ultimately be rooted in the life of the spirit:
If we thought we were building up a heaven on earth, we are disillusioned, and not a moment too soon. But for some souls at some times, the good life we can still, in our own small way, approache to the divine reality and the divine beauty which we hope to enjoy hereafter.

Now let us pray…”

"Eminence!" exclaimed Father Locatelli, the priest who had been tasked with greeting late arrivals. "Please, let me find you a seat!" He shooed some minor local dignitaries out of one of the pews, not forgetting to cross himself as he faced the altar. "Make room for the Cardinal and his friend! You can stand up."

Cambili began to object, "Oh, no, that's really not quite...", but the dignitaries, a little flustered over what had just happened, had already left. Cambili and the Undersecretary uneasily sat in the pew, with the Cardinal crossing himself and saying, "Deus omnes nos benedicet", repeated by the Undersecretary.

OOC: Nope. I haven't given the Undersecretary a name yet.
OOC2: That Latin thing is based on two Latin words I know and the Spanish I know. Does anyone know the actual Latin for it?

"Deo fortune nos todos"

OOC2: That Latin thing is based on two Latin words I know and the Spanish I know. Does anyone know the actual Latin for it?

((I may or may not be able to help you. Were you trying to say something along the lines of "God blesses all of us"? That would be more like: "Deus omnes nos benedicet" Of course, I'm just a fourth semester student (and not a very good one at that), so please don't take my word for anything! :D. If you were trying to say something else, let me know and I'll take a crack at it.

In other news, sorry for my lack of IC participation here for the moment. I've somewhat of a writer's block.))

EDIT: sorry - it should be nos, not nostrum. I've no idea why I decided to randomly decline it into the genitive.

OOC: It was actually "God bless us all", but yours sounds better. Thanks. ^_^

It is evening. Pink tendrils of sunset release their hold, one by one, on the window panes of the Bishop's Palace. The closing words of the mass seem to linger in the air. "Go in peace..."

By the great windowe, Bishop Bendoro lies slumped at a writing desk. Tired from the day, from the visitors, from his impassionated homily, it seems. Sister Isabel clucks sympathetically. Poor old man is tired out, she thinks. Poor dear.

"Monsignor?" She touches the Bishop, gently, on his shoulder. No movement.

She shakes his shoulder a bit harder. He remains still.

It's only then that Sister Isabel sees the knife protruding from his back. The blood on his shoes. The hand print on his arm, bleaching his brown skin to near translucency.

---

BYMD CITY (PTBI wire) -- Taro Bendoro, the Bishop of Tiga Burung, has been murdered, church sources confirm.

The Bishop had just delivered a strong sermon denouncing the Knootian occupation of Tanah Burung and the Order of the Invisible Hand. He was found knifed to death in the home of F.X. Mangunvijaya, the Bishop of BYMD City.

Bendoro, 53, is survived by his mother Amelia and his aunt Darmawati.

Tiga Burung Tab

Hand of death took Bendoro!

It's been the talk of the nation: who murdered Bishop Bendoro?

This newspaper treats it like a detective story, and asks: Who stood to gain? Who were Bendoro's enemies?

The answer is easy: the terrorist gang calling itself "the Order of the Invisible Hand." Not only are they the evil genius behind the criminal invasion of our country; they also have been condemned by the Holy Vatican See. Is it any wonder they have struck at one of the Church's Bishops?

The Hand murdered our Bishop. The print on his neck says as much. Nuns close to the scene tell us they saw Knootian agents skulking about the square. All the signs point to one culprit.

This "Order" is nothing short of a terrorist organization. It is time the international community took a stand and eradicated it. Once and for all.

BYMD City Coastline, Tanah Burung
The Day of the Murder of Bishop Bendoro, 7:22 PM

In the fifth floor of the Mariott at BYMD, the end of the center hall was in panic. Tourists and business leaders looked on in mild astonishment as the occupants, respectively the Undersecretary of State of Tiburon and one of the chief cardinals in that same nation, frantically contacted their contacts after learning of the murder of the bishop from CNN, as reported by PTBI wire.
----------------------------------------
Room 104- Undersecretary Athalia Tanagoro

Tanagoro was trying to keep a level head, although he knew that this murder would be much more difficult in such a large city and such an open service. It would be infinitely easy for any perpetrator to slip in, kill the bishop, and fly out of the country, to be lost forever in any nation in the world.

He had to do what he did best- tell someone to do something.

To: The Justice Minister, Tanah Burung; The Defense Minister, Knootoss
From: Undersecretary of State Athalia Tanagoro, Tiburon
Subject: Bendoro

Respective ministers of respective countries-

As you are both no doubt aware, the murder of Bishop Benedoro a few hours back has gripped the nation of Tanah Burung, with the cries of the tabloids' late editions doing nothing more than stirring popular opinion. It is imperative that the perpetrator be found, and this is why I write to you tonight, as you are effectively in control of Tanah Burung. As an ally of Knootoss and a supporter of self-determination, Tiburon wishes nothing more than peace and friendship. And to ensure these ends, any possible obstacle must be taken care of.

It is imperative that not a single person present at the sermon leave Tanah Burung until the murderer is found. I ask you to enforce this by whatever means necessary, and I have faith that your nations shall do what is best for international peace.

Sincerely,
Undersecretary of State Tanagoro

Having done that, he then called the Tiburonese states of India and Japan, telling the respective governors to send unarmed Tiburonese military helicopters to secure himself and the cardinal. It was now a race against time and bureaucracy.

Newly appointed Ambassador to Tanah Burung , the Right and Honourable Livingston Bramble decided it was time to make himself more or less known to the Burungi populace, he penned a letter directly to the Tiga Burung Tab. He decided to go through the press, since he wasn't sure who, if anyone , was in charge in Tanah Burung.

An Open Letter to the Peoples of Tanah Burung,

On behalf of the Free Republic of Ilek-Vaad I would like to express our deepest sympathies for the loss of The Most Reverend Bishop Taro Bendoro, our sincerest condolences go out to his family and his congregation.

I would also like to express our sympathies to the innocents who lost their lives and continue to lose their lives under Knootian imperial occupation.

I must now now also express my profound disappointment that the Bishop Mangunvijaya would use these lost lives as a crass political prop. To declare these people 'martyrs' and to parade their corpses and memories before the press as a tool for the Bishop and the Church to further their goals is an abomination before the People.

If the Bishop were indeed sincere about peace and helping to end the Knootian occupation, there are far better ways to go about it than exhuming corpses and memories of the dead for a politically staged public mass. These slaughtered innocents deserve to have their memories honoured, not politicized.

Everyone realizes that the deaths of these innocents was wrong. The Democratic Dutch Republic has apologized for the tragedy and has been pilloried for the heinous act. It serves no constructive purpose to months later re-open old wounds, it is contrary to peace and to achieving a removal of Knootian forces.

The People of Tanah Burung should never forget their fallen friends and family and should honour their memory, but those with public power should not use that memory for personal gain.

Ambassador Livingston Bramble Rte. Hon.


OOC: the Right Honourable Mr. Bramble is using 'exhumation' in a figurative sense, to Vaadians digging up memories is often seen to be equal to digging up bodies and he wants to get across how reprehensible the Bishop's action are to the People of the Free Republic.

Edited, it was Bendoro that died, chnage reflected in my post, we just wished that it was Mangunvijaya that had gotten the knife ;)

Bishop Mangunvijaya had been weeping for hours, over the perversion of a mass he had organized, and over the death of a colleague. A colleague he disagreed with often, and not a dearly loved man to him. But he was called to love all men, even Bendoro: and all the more so now that the man was dead.

He penned a letter replying to Livingston Bramble.

Your Excellency,

Thank you for your words of sympathy on the death of my colleague, Bishop Bendoro. It is indeed a tragedy, and i hope that the persons responsible will be found and brought to justice.

Please allow me to assure you that the mass held at my cathedral recently was not intended as a political gesture, but as an act of mourning and memory. The late Bishop Bendoro spoke imtemperately and without my prior knowledge. In all wars, there are hot heads, and i regret deeply that one of those was among my brother bishops. I cannot fault his passion: your own people know passion all too well, i am certain, to condemn it. I do however disagree most sharply with his tactics.

The people killed in the square are indeed martyrs. The Knootian government has indeed apologized for their deaths, but that does not make them martyrs any the less: that is theology, not politics. However, i agree that their deaths should not be used for political purposes, and have given orders that they not be so used. I fear, however, there is little i can do to reverse the anger of my people over the death of Bishop Bendoro and over the Order of the Invisible Hand that apears to now control the Knootian government. I am certain, once again, that your government will understand this anger.

My task is to try to control this anger, to prevent it from turning to violence. Any assistance you are able to lend in this task, and any influence you may have with the government of Knootoss to abide by the terms of its treaties, would be greatly appreciated by the church and by the people of Tanah Burung.

Please accept the expression of my highest regards, Excellency.

+ F.X. Mangunvijaya

Ambassador Bramble penned a quick response:


To:Bishop F.X. Mangunvijaya
From: Rte. Hon. Livingston Bramble

I can understand some of the points you made in your letter to me, but some still seem at odds with your message. Acts of mourning and memory are private affairs that celebrate the passing of loved ones with family and friends. Calling upon foreign dignataries to attend such a service is purely political.

Such 'parades of the unfortunates' to drum up political support for any point of view will be dimly viewed by the Free Republic. Sending political messages from the pulpit is the fastest way of assuring that the Free Republic will not support such messages.

After the service, Cardinal Friesz and Bishop Repse of the Church of Excalbia had retired to the small rooms they had hired in a guest house in the city. The sounds of people in the streets and voices talking in urgent tones had drawn both men out of their rooms. Together, they had ventured into the streets where they had learned of Bishop Bendoro's shocking murder.

Blaine Repse, Excalbian Chief Bishop of Citadel Excalbia*, turned towards John Cardinal Friesz, his face ashen and his jaw slack. A sinking feeling of awful familiarity clawed at his stomach. "My God, John," he said trembling, "it's Bishop Purins all over again... They... they've killed another bishop..."

Cardinal Friesz put an arm around Repse to comfort him and led him back to the guest house.

Early the next morning, both men sought out Bishop Mangunvijaya in hopes of offering their condolences.

*This event takes place before the Synod elected Bishop Slesers Presiding Bishop and made Bishop Repse the Secretary of the Synod.

Mangunvijaya penned a quick note:

Ambassador Bramble,

Please forgive me for writing only in brief, but as you can understand my time is no longer my own. It is a central tenet of our faith that memory is collective and mourning is done in community, not by individuals alone. You are free to disagree, but i can only ask you to respect that this is the way things are done in our church. At any rate, the mass has already ended, and cannot be undone after the fact.

However, i agree completely with you on the political use of the pulpit. The late Bishop's words were unfortunate and ill-advised. I have given orders that the pulpit is not to be abused in this way again during this tense time. My blessings upon you, and my thanks for your concern.

+F.X. Mangunvijaya

With that, he turned to a more central duty for a churchman: the reception of other churchmen. As Cardinal Friesz and Bishop Repse were ushered into his chambers, he rose and turned to greet them.

"My dear brothers in Christ, thank you for coming," he said. "Your presence at a time like this lifts up my heart."

Cardinal Friesz opened his arms and embraced Bishop Mangunvijaya, “May our Risen Lord bless you and console you my dear brother.”

Friesz stepped aside and Bishop Repse as well embraced the Catholic bishop. “My condolences for your loss, my brother, may the Christ bless you.”

Returning to Friesz’s side, Repse took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself, then spoke. “Bishop Bendoro’s death was a great tragedy, your Grace. He was a man of truth and moral courage.”

Cardinal Friesz nodded. “Is there any word on who might be responsible for this terrible crime?”

“I fear,” Repse said, looking a little pale, “that the Order might be behind this. Our own Presiding Bishop recently died under suspicious circumstances in a country controlled by the Order and our government suspects foul play.” Repse looked down. “I am sorry to pour my own grief on top of yours, your Grace.”

“Perhaps,” Friesz interjected, “we can comfort each other in the midst of this difficult times by sharing each other's burdens.”

"Truth and moral courage, yes," Mangunvijaya replied. "Not, perhaps, as much wisdom as i might have hoped. But i expect i shall pray for him every day remaining to me on this earth."

He sighed, letting his hand pass idly across his rosary beads. "No word yet on those responsible, no. The Knootian Defence Force is the law now, and i don't place great faith in them finding the culprit, or even being believed by the people if they do. Perhaps it is the Order. I fear that many have already decided that the Order is behind it, though, and the facts will matter little."

Again, a sigh. Mangunvijaya found it impossible to reach down and summon the humnour that generally sustained him in troubled times. "Dark times, my brothers. Dark times. It is difficult for me to see the hand of the Holy Spirit in any of this. But perhaps we might pray together for guidance."

"Yes," Cardinal Friesz said, laying a comforting hand on the bishop's arm, "yes, let us spend a time together in prayer. I know that is difficult to see the Holy Spirit at work in the midst of such times. Yet, we know that He is here with us and that He will never leave us, no matter how dark the night."

Friesz, joined shortly by Bishop Repse, dropped to his knees and began to pray...

To: Undersecretary of State Athalia Tanagoro, Tiburon
From: Hans van Mierlo, Minister of Foreign Affairs and Defence
Subject: Re:Bendoro

Your Excellency,

I thank you for your voicing concerns about the situation and I can assure you that we fully share these concerns. The murder of Bishop Benedoro has shocked us all, and you can be assured that we will do everything in our power to find the perpetrator or perpetrators and arrange for a proper trial.

To that end, and to ensure that this investigation will be taken seriously, we intend to establish a politically neutral investigative team. The Dutch Democratic Republic will continue to act in the interest of peace, justice and mutual security.

Sincerely,

Hans van Mierlo

Radio Free Tanah Burung, excerpts

“…has set up a politically independent investigative team of both Knootian forensic experts and patriotic Burungi police officers with experience in murder investigations. Officer Balihung-Utunggadewa is one of these investigators who will to collaborate with the multinational investigation. He told Radio Free Tanah Burung that the investigative team will not exclude any group as a potential suspect in its quest for the truth.

General Donner expressed his full confidence that cooperation between Knootoss and Tanah Burung will reveal the true murderers. He also said that the resources of the Knootian Defence Force were at the disposal of the independent team. Knootian minister Hans van Mierlo told KNN that the murderer or murderers will get a fair trial.

The Burungi people so far responded to the tragedy in a calm and dignified manner, and the grassroots Burungi Citizens for Peace and Cooperation group called on all citizens to cooperate with the investigation and to refrain from pointing fingers.

After the break we will go back to our main story, Prime Minister nos Círdan makes yet another overture for peace, speaking about her heartfelt sympathy with the little people in Tanah Burung in an exclusive interview. But first some classic softrock songs...”

(classic soft rock? Another Knootian crime against humanity! Someone call Amnesty International!)

Mangunvijaya thought, as they prayed, of the Papal injunction: "Be not afraid." And though the voice of the Vatican was sadly stilled in this time of fear, still the words seemed to lift his spirits. Be not afraid. And even though these visitors were not Catholics, their presence helped draw his fear out of him.

The prayers ended, he smiled at the Excalbians. "My brothers, your presence with me on this vigil has meant more than i can say. If there is an invisible hand guiding events, i believe that somehow it must be the hand of God. I do not yet understand His purpose, but i trust that it will become clear to us one day."

---

Outside, things were not so calm. A group of protesters had gathered, in defiance of the anti-protest ordinance of the Knootian military authorities. From the cathedral, site of the latest martryrdom, they were assembling to march on the Knootian command post. As always, brightly-pained banners proclaimed their message:

JUSTICE FOR BENDORO! FREE TANAH BURUNG!

CUT OFF THE INVISIBLE HAND!

KNOOTOSS OUT!

FIND THE BISHOP'S KILLER!

A small boy moved among the protesters, accompanied by a woman in saffron robes carrying a large pot of rice. "Tashi, eat your rice," she scolded every few minutes, forcing the already plump lad to eat a few spoonfuls more, sometimes adding a piece of dried fish. "You want to grow up big and strong, like you did before, yes?"

Tashi grinned and ate obediently. "Don't cut the hand off!" he said brightly to one protester. "Oho, no! That would be violent! Why not kiss it goodbye instead?" He giggled and moved on, offering some of his fish to the more bedraggled-looking protesters. "Here! It's good!"

((OOC: I do my best. Bwahahaha))

The Knootian troops holding guard were not terribly impressed by the whole scene. Those few who had been sent to investigate this latest demonstration were either casually leaning against a wall - often smoking - or chatting using their headsets.

"So long as noone enters a restricted military zone or behaves violently there will be no interference with their marches", Donner had imprinted in their minds after hearing the news.

The area around the command post was looking especially grim in the hot Burungi sun, with the area – including the street – around it transformed into a stockade with electric fences and barriers and sniffer dogs and several primitive towers. The inside was crawling with officers and men in the plain green of the KDF uniforms. The gates were closed.