NationStates Jolt Archive

Wilhelm Mueller quietly adjusted his suit as he made his way towards the Diet Chambers. There was so much real work to be done and now it was time for Marlunders to do it themselves. For the first time in their history, they had a resal representative body elected by a universal franchise. Slavery had been abolished. The rule of law restored, at least in theory. Of course, the government was not yet in full control of their territory again.

Mueller entered the chambers and waited through all the formalities of opening the Diet. He waited through a number of routine motions, reestablishing a functioning system of roads, public schools, all the things needed in a civlized nation. Mueller voted yes without paying the perfuntory debate much mind.

When it was his turn, Mueller stood. "Herr President, Honored Members, I would wish to submit Legislative Act 611, an act confiscating the agricultural lands of former users of forced labor and the redistribution of such lands among the victims of such persons..."

"Too far! Too far!" arose a loud cry from the right side of the aisle.

"It's merely justice!" cried another voice from the left. Members of the Diet were on their feet, glaring across the aisle, looking as though they might very well come to blows.

Grand Duchess Niank crossed her well-muscled risk behind her back. Her Grand Marshall's uniform seemed to work with the natural shine of her kind to create a truly impressive effect as she surveyed the officers gathered in the Allied Joint Command, not only Danaan officers but those of Pantocratoria and Adoki and even Marlund's new democratically elected government. "So far, things remain peaceful." she said. "We've managed to lose a number of former regime and terrorist elements, however."

"They might be hiding out anywhere in Marlund, ma'am." General Alex Ornish frowned as she studied the map, not just of Marlund but of the entire continent of Caran. "However, I have reason to believe, based on what military intelligence has been picking up, that regime elements are primarily seeking to regroup outside Marlund. Since Pantocratorian territory lies to the South and Danaan to the North, it seems likely they'd go East, into the unclaimed territory of Sahor."

"Can we find them there?" Nianki asked quickly.

"Probably." Ornish continued calmly. "However, it would require a major search effort. There's a lot of land out there."

Men. Princess Yuko leaned out over the railing of her Marlund penthouse. Here she was, the Empress's daughter, touring Marlund to reinforce the moral of Adoki troops stationed here, yet she was hardly allowed to go out. It wasn't safe for a woman. She was stuck here with General Kaizumi occassionally taking her out to show this or that group of troops.

Nianki, the sidhe woman, she got to command her forces. There were some Pantocratorian and Marlundish women under arms too. Oh, how she sometimes envied Western women.

The princess stepped back inside and opened her briefcase. She did get to have some knowledge of what was really happening, after all. She hated the maps she saw. Marlund proper remained Marlund. She believed in empire. It should be part of Adoki now, made to pay for all its crimes, not some rehabilitated and reconstructed constitutional principality.

The honour guard snapped off a salute as Monsieur le Duc de Montmanuel descended from his staff car and made his way into the Allied Joint Command building. He had newly arrived from Pantocratoria, as commander-in-chief of the Pantocratorian forces securing and reconstructing Marlund. Ordinarily he would have been pleased with such an assignment, but this time he was fuming. His young wife was pregnant. Worse still, she had fallen pregnant while he was out of the country, fighting in Syskeyia. He understood that the Emperor's son and heir, the Despot of New Constantinople, was the father. So, after his hero's welcome in New Rome, instead of being reunited with his gorgeous, young and unfaithful wife, he was kept away from her, and given an assignment to keep him out of the way. He was less than impressed. He stepped into the command chamber, and the Pantocratorian officers looked to him. Their commander had arrived.

"Your Grace, welcome." said Brigadier Mathieu Belieze, clicking his heels together and saluting. He nodded to Nianki. "Your Royal Highness, ladies and gentlemen, permit me to introduce the Supreme Commander of the Pantocratorian Peacekeeping Force, Monsieur le Duc de Montmanuel."

Montmanuel returned the salute, and then bowed deferentially to Nianki, before making his way over to the map.

"Well Belieze, old boy, what's going on then, what?" he asked.

"We were considering, monsieur, that elements loyal to the former regime may well have fled east into the uncontrolled territory of Sahor." the Brigadier replied.

"Hmm..." Montmanuel murmured thoughtfully.

Nianki nodded to the Pantocratorian duke before leaning forward, looking closely at the map. "Are these mountains in Marlund or Sahor? The line isn't clear."

"No, ma'am." Ornish answered. "The mountains as a whole are the border. Marlund geography still leaves much to be desires and a lot of their borders are rough and undefined." Ornish didn't seem to be worried that officers from the new democratic Marlund government were in the room as she spoke.

"I see." Nianki responded. "That would make them ideal for a terrorist base. Let's try to get some better reconnaissance on that area and then we'll go from there."

"Should we..."

"We're not making any major movements based on a hypothesis, general. Let's see if they're there." Nianki answered the question she hadn't let the redhead finish asking. "

It was a beer hall like most in Marlund. Local men were getting drunk after a hard day at work. A few Pantocratorian and Danaan soldiers were also present, out of uniform, of course. The talk was raucous and continuous, mostly speculation about the recently elected government and the new anti-slavery bill.

Monseigneur Doukas, a Commandant in the Pantocratorian Army, sipped his beer and looked over the crowd. He didn't approve of the soldiers mixing with civilians like this, but he thought his presence in the beer hall might dissuade some of the rowdier of his men from any serious misbehaviour.

A sidhe woman stepped into the beer hall, looking around expressionlessly. She was dressed very casually, as though she had just come from jogging, and she was massively muscled, moreso than almost all men. If it weren't for the sidhe birthright, it might have been a turnoff to Pantocratorian men. She walked straight towards the table, flagging down a waitress as she walked. Doukas smiled and nodded to the sidhe as she sat down at the table. He figured she was attached to the Danaan peace keeping forces in some fashion. The woman smiles back, ordering herself a good, strong, Marlund beer. She sat down at an empty seat near Doukas.

"They have the best beer here." she commented idly.

"They do." Doukas nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.

The woman nodded a little, folding her hands on the table as she waited for her beer. Doukas moved a little closer to her.

"Hard day?" he asked.

"Just tense. Things have been too quiet recently. Ernst Warner is still out there somewhere with all of his men." she frowned slightly as she sipped her beer.

"Yeah." Doukas nodded, sipping his beer. "I keep on wondering... when they're going to make their move."

He shook his head and shrugged, and toasted Nianki with his half-full glass of beer.

"To your health, and to the peace keeping deployment." he offered as a toast.

She raised her glass and clinked it against his before taking a swig. "Cheers."

The woman put the beer back down, briefly stretching her bare, heavily muscled legs. She let the conversation drift into silence for the moment. Doukas took a long drink from his beer as well, seemingly content to let the conversation drift into silence. The sidhe finished her beer and ordered another. She half-listened to the buzzing conversation around them. Doukas ordered another beer when the sidhe did.

"Had a good deployment so far?" he asked her.

"So far." she answered.

"Some of my guys..." he started. "Find deployments like this pretty tough. You know, we're here for the long haul. They've got families at home, loved ones... it can be a big strain for them."

"I'm single." she said with a slight hint of a smile. "You?"

Doukas nodded. "Easier that way in this job."

"I couldn't agree more." she laughed. "I'd hate to have to worry about a husband at home."

"Oh? What do you think he'd get up to while you were over here?" Doukas asked, a friendly smile spreading across his face.

"Oh, who knows these days." she said with a light laugh. "Marriage isn't what it used to be. I've even heard there's a few radicals in Parliament who are for divorce. Not that it would ever pass but the very idea..." she shuddered melodramatically.

"I think he'd be more worried about what you'd get up to over here with him so far away." Doukas winked.

"I, on the other hand, am entirely trustworthy. He should know that." she said with a matter-of-fact smirk.

"You wouldn't believe how many letters I get from Pantocratoria from wives..." he started, indicating around the hall to some of the off-duty soldiers. "...asking me to keep an eye on their husbands and make sure they don't get up to too much mischief."

"Do they get up to much mischief?" she asked amusedly.

"Some do." he replied, smirking. "I can't be everywhere at once, and no doubt they find ways to hide what they get up to from their CO."

She nodded. "I have heard there's places in Marlund where the...kinds of establishments that tend to follow armies have sprung up."

"Oh really?" Doukas asked. "Let's hope that news doesn't reach home, or I'll be stuck reading letters from concerned wives all day long!"

"I doubt many men will write home about it." she laughed louder, taking a long sip.

"And what about you? Do you have problems relating to excessive fraternisation with the civilian population?" he asked her, a grin etched onto his handsome face.

"Not really." she said with a light shrug. "Unless it's a security problem, concerns about things of that nature are normally left to the military chaplains rather than command."

"And what about you, personally?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his expression. "Get up to any fraternisation yourself?"

"No." she said, perhaps a tad curtly. After an awkward pause, she inquired "And you?"

"None." Doukas replied.

"I'm glad to hear it." she said.

The alarm on his watch went off, and he glanced down at his wrist. He pressed the alarm off button and frowned.

"Damn, I have to go." he told her. "But I'll be here tomorrow around the same time... fraternise with you then?"

"Sure thing." she answered.

Even while they were helping the local government keep order in Marlund itself, the Danaans were settling their new territorial claims in the uninhabited land of Caraz, to the North. This once virgin, temperate land was now sprouting with small, dedicated settlements. People were building homes and businesses, starting to make a life, even though they were still in need of state subsidies from home to complete the colonization project.

Because there was an understanding that each of the seven subregions of Caraz would one day be a state, people were trying to build societies. While the homestead laws applied equally everywhere to everyone, colonists were displaying an understandable tendency to settle with their co-religionists: National Protestants in Zutern, Confucians in Zeng, Episcopalans in Amory, Catholics in Sanero, Kager, and Nerise, Buddhists in Legon.

Some troops were patrolling the borders of Caraz. There was always a chance that the forces of terror which had fled Marlund might seek to attack here.

For his headquarters in Marlund's south, Montmanuel had seized possession of a large mansion. No doubt at one point it could've been described as a magnificent mansion, but its fine furnishings and décor had been plundered in the chaos which followed the overthrow of the former regime. The Duke's staff had been hard at work restoring it, and significant quantities of furnishings, carpets, paintings and other decorations had been shipped from Montmanuel in Pantocratoria in order to make the Duke's headquarters more comfortable.

Montmanuel himself fumed over a map of Sahor, which had been laid over his magnificent oak dining table. Various units in the Pantocratorian Peacekeeping Force were deployed about the place on the map. So far, they hadn't found any significant number of insurgents. That wasn't what he was angry about, however. He was pretending the military situation was the thing which was annoying him, but in truth his thoughts were preoccupied by his wife back in New Constantinople, pregnant, with another man's child. Not just any other man - the Despot of New Constantinople.

"Your Grace," said a servant as he entered the room and bowed deferentially. "The guests are awaiting you in the ballroom."

Montmanuel picked up his magnificently plumed ceremonial helmet, holding it underneath his left arm as was the fashion for Pantocratorian officers. He straightened the sash which hung over his dress uniform, and then nodded to the servant, following him out to the mansion's formal ballroom, the only room for which the decorations had been completed. A small orchestra was playing a waltz for the benefit of the group of Pantocratorian officers who were dancing, some with female officers or enlisted personel (women were allowed to serve in the Pantocratorian military, just not in combat roles), a few with prostitutes who had followed the headquarters about, and a few with attractive local girls. None of the local girls were well-born, of course, all being former slaves, but their partners had purchased them beautiful ball gowns and all sorts of other gifts, such that they were dressed like they really might be daughters of Pantocratorian gentlemen - as if by doing so they could lessen the embarrassment of being seen with a young lady of such a low social standing. Seeing a Pantocratorian officer could be a very profitable venture for a pretty young Marlunder, who could expect to be lavished with gifts and all sorts of added luxuries which weren't available to most people in the war torn country. The orchestra played a grand entrance for the Duke.

"Mesdames et messieurs, His Grace, Monsieur le Duc de Montmanuel, Supreme Commander of the Pantocratorian Peacekeeping Forces!" announced the servant. The officers nodded politely and some of the better informed ladies curtsied. Montmanuel acknowledged some familiar faces as he walked across the ballroom.

A communications officer appeared at the ballroom door, and whispered something to the servant.

"I have an important message for Monsieur le Duc. The Seventeenth Provincials Tenth Brigade reports it has engaged enemy forces in northern Sahor, and has come under heavy fire." the officer murmured.

"Monsieur is presently otherwise engaged. I will see he gets your message at the earliest possible convenience." replied the servant.

Montmanuel's headquarters was actually located on the Henrich Plantation in the southernmost part of Marlund, which was, oddly enough, known as West Marlund. Along with the states of Petrer and Jor, West Marlund formed the southern, agricultural part of Marlund, the land where Pantocratorian forces formed the backbone of the occupation. This part of the country, while comprising a good portion of the landmass, contained only a small fraction of the population, mostly slaves of African extraction. Because most of the former masters feared trial for crimes against humanity (a short tour of most plantations would convince a person of conscience that such trials were deserved), it was largely only the former slaves who had remained when Coalition troops seized control of an area. Correspondingly, the land where most Pantocratorian troops were stationed consisted overwhelmingly of former slaves with all the moral, political, and administrative problems that created.
...
Even though it was uninhabited, Sahor was subdivided into a number of regions. Only one of these regions was had clear access to areas where Pantocratorian troops were centered. The largely Pantocratorian held region of Petrer lay to the East of the mountains dividing most of Marlund from Sahor. It was able to have a clear connection with the neighboring Marlundish territory of Jor because the mountains ended a little before Petrer reached its southern border with Jor. While the mountains didn't come down far enough to separate Jor from Sahor, the Crager River did and all of Jor contained only one bridge over it. The one border Petrer did have with Sahor was with the region of Elmorel, a wooded land which was rumored to have once been the abode of some Elven peoples before they were exterminated by Marlund.
...
In addition to the servants Montmanuel brought with him, the house "came with some". They were attractive, well-spoken, and perfectly polite, although illiterate. They were selected to be house servants on the basis of appearance and trained from such selection to talk like educated men and women, even though they were denied all actual education. Most of them had obvious mixed parentage. They had been, of course, the Henrichs' house slaves and, while most of them had considered leaving and starting over away from the scene of their bondage, they had never done anything else. All of them were extremely fond of His Grace. Even the rather insensitive way Pantocratorian nobles dealt with servants seemed like a great measure of respect compared to someone who literally considered one their property.
...
Most of the prostitutes were ugly as well as rather obviously prostitutes. Montmanuel had received a number of reports from local authorities and clergy about this, as well as from Danaan and Adoki military officials.

It was, of course, true that none of the local girls were well-born. However, most of them had heard a tale at some time in their life about some vague relation to a king or queen over in Africa. Most of these were probably fables made up by some ancestor seeking to reduce the indignity of slavery. However, it was not entirely unknown for royalty to be sold into slavery when a tribe fell to its enemies and at least one claim to noble blood by a former slave had been confirmed by Prine Heinrich's genealogists and the lady in question received at His Highness's court as a noblewoman.
...
It was in the Trager Fields, north of Elmorel, that Pantocratorian forces were under fire. They had encountered an entrenched insurgent group consisting of a mix of regime elements and of the terror group the Sons of the Reformation.

Later that evening, the officers retired to the smoking room. The Duke stood by the window, puffing on a cigar whilst looking out into the blackness of the night.

"...so I said just rip it up, and lay down new track, the same gauge as the north." said Colonel Javere, of the Sixth Engineers. He took a sip of his brandy. "First continuous mainline to stretch across West Marlund, in fact."

Sitting next to him, Major Georgiosopoulos sucked on a big old pipe, and nodded thoughtfully whilst running his hand through his large, bushy beard.

"Such a big piece of infrastructure, must be hard to protect and patrol. You're not worried that before even the first train runs, the enemy will intervene?" he asked Javere.

The Duke's personal physician, Doctor Fitzhoël, was engaged in a conversation with Colonel Bergueret from the Second Mobile Hospital.

"So no, that doesn't surprise me, one would expect to find a hospital system which has virtually collapsed under the pressure of the past few months." Fitzhoël nodded. "And how much will the new hospital here cost us?"

"Well, I would hope that..." Bergueret continued.

Montmanuel scowled at the blackness of the night, still looking outside when the first droplets of rain started splashing against the glass. He took a long puff of his cigar as the anger inside him built. Why was he on the other side of the world while his wife was pregnant with another man's child?

Of course, from all of the edicts of the Marlund government, the building of things such as railroads and hospitals was at best a tertiary priority, especially in this part of the country. What Prince Heinrich and Parliament wanted was social reconstruction: Schools, political education, civil responsibility, the rule of law, responsible local government, real churches independent of the old theocratic institutions, the establishment of a wage system of labor, even the uinionization of labor. There were hundreds of thousands of allied social workers and international charity workers in southern Marlund working on that very thing.
...
All the women had gone home. Some of them had gone back to the small "village" of shacks just out of sight of the house. Some had gone back to their women's barracks. Some, being whores, had gone to wait for their men to finish talking so they could earn their pay later. The servants, however, continued to do their jobs. For the most part, this involved cleaning the main room where the dance had been but a young serving girl named Bathsheba Cook happened to be bringing in more Brandy when Major Georgiosopoulos expressed his doubts about the defensibility of the new railroad, when he said the enemy could attack it. "They won't, sir. I promise." Bathsheba looked down as soon as she realized she'd spoken. She was relatively certain she'd be beaten or raped for speaking out of turn. She hoped the Pantocratorians might be civilized enough to simply send her away. The idea that he might ask what she meant never occurred to her.

Georgiosopoulos laughed dismissively at Bathsheba as he pulled the pipe from his mouth to refill it. Javere snorted in a bemused fashion and looked at her.

"What makes you think, mademoiselle, that you are in the position to promise anything for the insurgents?" he asked her.

"Not for the insurgents, sir." she answered nervously.

"Well you just promised the enemy wouldn't attack the railway." Javere said.

"I don't think they could get at them, sir, not in West Marlund." she answered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Georgiosopoulos continued to chuckle at the exchange as he lit up his pipe. Javere smiled.

"You needn't apologise. Just keep bringing the brandy." Javere winked.

Bathsheba blinked as he winked at her, clearly terrified for a moment. She was a very beautiful young woman. In fact, she was prettier than most of the freedwomen who had actually been invited to the dance, as most of the younger house servants were. It was simply that taking a woman who was literally working as a servant where they were staying was too much for any Pantocratorian officer.

"Actually, I'm in the mood for some port instead." Georgiosopoulos said, snapping Bathsheba out of her reverie. "Do we have any port?"

"Yes, sir. We do." she answered swiftly.

"Outstanding. Bring some of it along won't you, and a sipper of course." Georgiosopoulos instructed.

She hurried off, returning shortly thereafter with the required items. Georgiosopoulos took his port, and sipped slowly.

"Anyway," Javere said, bringing them back to his beloved railway. "We're going to start taking local labour. Advertise the positions. Not just physical labour, but at every level. Naturally at first the locals will be mainly observing our technicians, but we'll train them on the job. By the end of the project, they'll have their own engineers, their own technicians. They'll be able to build their own railways."

Bathsheba quietly moved to remove herself from the room.