NationStates Jolt Archive

The Commonwealth of Peoples had emerged late last year around its historic core, the Resurgent Dream. Since that time, the world stage had changed significantly and yet the Commonwealth had not been especially involved in international affairs. True, they were hosting the Kaitan-Leagran negotiations and the leaders of the Commonwealth had received Xirniumite Prime Minister Heather Margaréta Gílda and members of her Government in New Amsterdam. However, the Commonwealth response to the Reich-Prussian War had been one of simple and fairly uninvolved neutrality. The Commonwealth had made no response at all to the Vrakian boycott of nations sending aid to Allanea. Likewise, the Commonwealth had not reached out to many nations with which the Resurgent Dream had not already had relations. Whole regions of the world, many of them quite important in the geopolitical scheme of things, lacked even one Commonwealth embassy. It was in some ways a natural state of affairs. The Commonwealth, having just emerged as a discrete polity after a period of great instability in many individual Members, needed to put its own house in order before it could turn outwards. Likewise, the Commonwealth remained somewhat indecisive as to the best foreign policy course to take. A sort of benign isolationism as far as official relations were concerned could be expected over the next few weeks, if not months. The only exceptions to this rule were Pantocratoria, Excalbia, Amestria and Xirnium, where the Commonwealth did have a clear goal of building or enhancing friendly bilateral ties.

However, the Commonwealth’s official position was not that of all of its people or even of all its prominent public figures. Many political leaders within the Commonwealth believed that Greater Prussia’s (and especially Allanea’s) expansionism, arms smuggling, religious and political chauvinism, crimes against peace, war crimes, crimes against humanity and extremist ideologies posed a fundamental threat to the Western liberal democracies and the freedom and dignity of their individual citizens, a danger made more obscene by the fact that it often operated in the name of God or of liberty. These leaders took very seriously the Allanean ideal of a perpetual worldwide struggle for anarcholibertarianism, frequently dismissed as silly rhetoric or simple ideological vanity by public opinion. They also believed and had argued, both popularly and abstractly, that Allanean ideology, its own claims to the contrary notwithstanding, was fundamentally hostile to the real freedom and dignity of the individual person; that the other states of Greater Prussia were unabashedly totalitarian and that Greater Prussia as a whole represented a force for totalitarianism in the form of fundamentalist theocracy; that Greater Prussian foreign policy serves to undermine and destabilize free and legitimate governments; that the proper criteria (or at least the primary criteria) for comparing Greater Prussia to other potential threats such as the Reich was not an abstract analysis of their stated ideology or even a historical body count but an analysis of recent actions on the world stage; and that the policies of Greater Prussia, by their nature and by the nature of the current international social situation, especially hurt women and children throughout the world.

It was in this context and in the context of Xirnium and Amestria’s ongoing and heroic opposition to Greater Prussia that two such figures had arranged a speaking tour in Xirnium and Amestria on “The Prussian ‘World Order’ and the Undeclared War on Women and Children.’” The speakers were not especially representative of the Commonwealth as a whole, at least not at present. Emma Young was the Deputy Leader of the Opposition in Gandara, one of the Commonwealth’s Members. Beatrice Wake was a former Danaan Minister for Justice who had received a vote of no confidence in the midst of the Operation Dinah scandal, which had been devastating for the Government. Still, they had a very definite position and they considered it a vital issue for Xirnium, the Commonwealth and all the Western democracies and they intended to make this speaking tour matter.

The Prussian “World Order” and the Undeclared War on Women and Children

Free Public Lecture

Thursday, 25 January 2007, from 4:00 pm - 6:00 pm
EV Avärien Lecture Theatre, Galiéndriel Isoüdir Building, University of Neúvenärta, Nemánya

As part of our continuing contribution to the intellectual life of Neúvenärta, the University hosts a substantial number of free public lectures, featuring prominent Xirniumite and international speakers, every year.

The first topic of discussion to be addressed this year shall concern a predominantly feminist-centred criticism of the aims, methods and underlying ideologies of the Greater Prussian bloc. Hosted by the Venimálwë Research Centre in conjunction with our Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences and with the support of the Ministry for Women and Gender Equality, two prominent current politicians from the Commonwealth of Peoples shall explore what they have described as the extreme threat posed, and profound harm done, to women and children worldwide as a direct result of Prussian Protestant Fundamentalism and Allanean Anarcho-Libertarianism.

Speakers: Ms Beatrice Wake and Ms Emma Young

Neúvenärta: The City of Ephemeral Dreams
The Eternal Republic of Xirnium

Zéphyrine rubbed her numbed hands together, somewhat regretting that she had not worn her fawn-coloured gloves today. Holding her freezing fingers close to her lips, the Xirniumite blew warm air over them, her exhaled breath turning to steam in the frigid morning air. The icy wind whistled merrily as Zéphyrine quickly crossed an elegantly arched, marble footbridge. With a sigh, Zéphyrine drew in a deep, invigorating breath of the snowy, frosty air; taking care not to slip on the perilous cobblestones, which where slippery with ice. Everything visible was sparsely covered in lovely white, fine snow. Everywhere, people were briskly walking to work or to school, exchanging cheerful talk and putting on brave smiles in spite of the miserable weather.

After all, there was not terribly much that could actually be done about the cold, reasoned Zéphyrine with a wry grin.

Neúvenärta was, for the most part, a walking city. An island metropolis, its vast web of narrow paved roads, cobbled squares, slender bridges, and winding canals precluded the modern intrusion of cars and motor vehicles. There was not too much of a plan or pattern to Neúvenärta, its streets seemed almost random and its layout quite confusing. Nevertheless, one could (given enough time) reach any location, on any island, by foot; providing, of course, that one was prepared to encounter frequent dead ends, and to wander off in search of detours.

Situated in the extreme southeast of Xirnium, and lying on and around an archipelago in the deep Hêralýn lagoon, the great seaport of Neúvenärta had been the political and cultural centre of a major maritime city state in the early mediaeval era. Ever since that time, it had continued to hold a unique and unrivalled position in the Xirniumite imagination. Endlessly described in romantic verse and prose, Neúvenärta presented to the arriving visitor a luminous spectacle of ornately marbled and stuccoed palaces, towers, and arches, all delicately reflected in the sparkling waters of its indigo lagoon.

Breathtakingly beautiful and absolutely sublime in its other-worldliness, many of Neúvenärta’s fine historical buildings and monuments possessed a light-hearted and frivolous, perhaps even voluptuous, air. Whenever her workload permitted it, Zéphyrine liked to spend her afternoons strolling about the city, admiring its great classic structures. Neúvenärta’s mysterious appearance was further heightened today by both the fine white snow that had settled on it like icing on a cake, and the curious grey mist that (from time to time) partially cloaked it from the view of the nearby Nurtále Alps. Indeed, the entire, decorative mass of the old city’s historic centre appeared almost to float upon the mist-enshrouded, icy waters of the Hêralýn lagoon; with all of the self-assured splendour of a host of delicate swans.

Romantically picturesque Neúvenärta may have been, but for Zéphyrine the desire to get out of the cold was currently of more immediate concern. At the end of Erâdrën Street, where an elegant marble statue that depicted a winged female figure (exultant in the triumph of reason over faith, sheathing her sword) surmounted a museum of Renaissance art, the young academic turned left and hurried along the bank of a wide canal.

‘Sorry!’ gasped Zéphyrine, a mortified look on her face. Distracted by the sight of a particularly splendid sailing vessel out on the waters of the blue canal, the young academic had collided carelessly with a fellow Neúvenärtan pedestrian, and knocked the man’s glasses askew.

The gentleman suppressed a look of mild irritation as he inspected his spectacles, although he soon determined that they had not been damaged. Re-adjusted his glasses, he fixed his gaze upon Zéphyrine and forced a gentle smile.

‘It was my fault entirely, madam,’ replied the individual. Inquiring thoughtfully if Zéphyrine was alright, the gentleman repeated his apology before continuing on his way.

Neúvenärta’s famous, misty waterways offered a scene replete with variety and stylish colour. The majority of the lagoon’s water traffic consisted of motor-powered craft; sleek and elegant vessels. Many of these were private recreational boats, although others were craft that plied for hire. The Neúvenärtan municipal transport authority ran an efficient, regular, and well-organised system of graceful public water buses. With the feeble sun still low in today’s winter sky, it was mainly these government-run ferries that could be seen navigating the canals and lagoon of Neúvenärta; and the majestic sailing craft that Zéphyrine had spotted was something of an exception, rather than the rule.

Zéphyrine’s favourite café opened at seven on weekdays, and it was into its friendly, inviting warmth that she now eagerly entered. Such charming little establishments flourished in Neúvenärta as they did throughout Xirnium, and for the young academic they constituted a ready source of news, gossip and conversation. Patronised by a delightful assortment of bohemian artists and intellectuals, Café Vërâlyn served as the central meeting place for Zéphyrine’s small coterie of friends and colleagues.

‘Good morning, everyone!’ announced Zéphyrine cheerily, removing her fashionable woollen scarf and overcoat and casually shaking off their flakes of snow. One by one, she greeted her friends with a polite exchange of kisses.

Zéphyrine had skipped breakfast this morning, and now ordered a cup of coffee and a baked Xirniumite roll made of sweet flaky pastry with a jam filling, called Väymäs. At her friends’ table, the young academic sat down to read the letters and papers from her office.

‘I’ve not seen you around here for a while,’ smiled Márton, who had been arguing with a fellow colleague from his faculty over some fashionable philosophical question or another, as seemed to be his wont.

‘Work has kept me away, I’m afraid,’ replied Zéphyrine as she leafed through a letter.

It appeared that one of her colleagues, after reading the young academic’s latest article (an analysis, in terms of the perpetuation of gender stereotypes, of the High Supreme Court’s wives’ special equity rule), had taken it upon herself to reproach Zéphyrine for what she considered needless concessions to the alternative’s side. Her friend’s ardent critique brought a small smile to Zéphyrine’s lips.

‘I tell you that the central question we must confront is whether one can truly be free when one suffers poverty and exploitation,’ continued Séverin, unwilling to let Márton off the hook. Zéphyrine often found it most amusing how her two friends could argue so fiercely whilst all the while being of essentialy the same view, as members of the mainstream, fashionable left. ‘The purely capitalist conception of individual liberty has in the past tolerated, and even legitimated, the exploitation of the working classes. Unless freedom is defined in terms of “freedom and necessity”, we might well dismiss it as meaningless rhetoric.’

‘Is that not the very basis for justifying negative freedoms in the first instance?’ agreed Márton.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now, Séverin,’ spoke one of Zéphyrine’s friends in a bantering tone, an amused grin curling the edges of her lips. ‘Supposedly you’re a philosophy teacher, but I daresay that every time I come to this café I see you already here. Your classroom duties, it seems, are not nearly enough to draw you away,’ Élaine joked.

This produced a number of small chuckles from around the table.

‘Are you finished with that paper, Xavière?’ asked Zéphyrine hopefully, pointing to a copy of The Neúvenärta Intelligencer. She made a few final marks to an office page and then pushed the file away, taking a sip from her scorching hot coffee.

‘Here you go,’ replied Xavière with a warm smile, folding her newspaper (which she subscribed to) and passing it across the table. ‘Oh, they mentioned today’s public lecture, Zéphyrine!’

‘Yes? On which page?’

‘Um, somewhere near the front, I think.’

Zéphyrine studied the newspaper for a moment, whilst the eclectic group continued to chat. Some of them talked of going out that evening, perhaps to dinner, or to a dance, or to the theatre. Xavière had recently bought a lovely new pair of high heeled dancing shoes that she was keen to test out. Márton, ever the gourmand, wanted to dine at the Nâsmëth, one of Neúvenärta’s many high-toned and extremely expensive restaurants. Its windows, he explained, afforded patrons an exquisite view of the Palace of Nymêntälya and the delightful indigo waters that surrounded it.

‘Look, here it mentions the Venimálwë Research Centre,’ noted Zéphyrine excitedly, having found the article.

Both Zéphyrine (an associate lecturer) and Xavière (a tutor and PhD candidate) were members of the Venimálwë Research Centre, an organisation whose stated objective it was to facilitate the advancement of avant-garde feminist discussion, debate and thinking in Xirnium. Founded in the early sixties, the centre had long worked closely with the University of Neúvenärta’s humanities and social sciences faculties and received generous support from the Vice-Chancellor’s critical studies fund. It had been named in honour of Nýmâldriel Venimálwë, a remarkable aristocratic lady of diverse learned interests, who had established a famous bluestocking literary society in Neúvenärta in the mid eighteenth century.

‘I hear that ours will be the first university on the speaking tour,’ spoke András, from behind a novel by the Xirniumite nineteenth century naturalist writer, Fíndulâs.

‘Oh yes, indeed. Splendid, isn’t it?’ said Zéphyrine proudly. ‘That’s all due to our doing, of course,’ she explained, referring to the Venimálwë Research Centre.

‘We’re even before Naèräth University!’ exclaimed Xavière merrily.

The main campus of the University of Neúvenärta lay on the island of Nemánya, near the centre of the metropolis’ lagoon. By water craft, it took only five minutes to reach the heart of Neúvenärta from Nemánya. Founded in the twelfth century, the mediaeval institution had grown out of the various prestigious schools (known as studia generalia) that had been located within the city. By as early as the fourteenth century, the University of Neúvenärta had become one of the most celebrated teaching centres in all of Xirnium.

‘I trust that all of you are coming?’ asked Zéphyrine, fixing her friends with a piercing, serious stare.

‘Of course we are.’

Mainland Neúvenärta, around the Hêralýn Lagoon
The Eternal Republic of Xirnium

Emma Young and Beatrice Wake arrived in Greater Neúvenärta at the newly refurbished Anthêlia International Airport, located on the mainland and at an appropriate distance away from the coast of the Hêralýn lagoon. The security that had been arranged for the foreign personages was unusually extensive by Xirniumite standards, despite the fact that no credible threat to their safety had been assessed as existing whilst they remained within the Eternal Republic. Even so, it was perhaps still a wise precaution to take, especially considering the disturbing number of death threats that Ms Young had received from Christian extremists and terrorists located within her own country.

Not wishing to leave anything to chance, the Eternal Republic’s Security Service (Xirnium’s intelligence agency tasked with handling matters internal to Xirnium) was directed by the Government to cooperate and liaise closely with the Special Branch of the Xirniumite police, which generally guarded visiting dignitaries, royalty, and foreign statesmen and women. As was typical of Xirniumite tastes, however, the security personnel endeavoured to maintain as discrete a presence as their task might reasonably allow.

Actually, it would have been a gross understatement to say that Ms. Young had not received threats from extremists in her on country. She had received death threats from multinational terrorist organizations which between them had demonstrated a past ability to infiltrate national borders, conduct sophisticated and high tech operations, secure control of weaponry not even allowed to established military under the ordinary international conventions of warfare, penetrate the personal security of the Pantocratorian Imperial Family within New Rome itself, assassinate a Danaan royal consort and conduct a terrorist capable of killing tens of thousands of people. Her security personnel did not see the absence of identified supporters for such terrorists in Xirnium coupled with the normal security measures existing along Xirnium's borders as sufficient and had pressed hard for fairly strong security measures. They had suggested to the Xirniumites that it would be fair to assume that any potential attacker could be armed and dangerous in spite of local laws on the subject and that they would likely have a level of training equivalent to or even superior to that available in most militaries. The Xirniumites had been skeptical about the threat but they had nonetheless been obliging to Gandaran security sensitivities. Thus Emma Young and Beatrice Wake knew that there was a rather extensive, although unobtrusive, security presence when they stepped off their flight from Simcoe, searing the airport for their escorts.

Neúvenärta’s Anthêlia International Airport was an ultra-modern and immensely complex facility, permanently employing well over a hundred thousand individuals in essential services and regularly handling more than fifty million passengers per year. The aerodrome comprised multiple runways and taxiways of extended length, extensive apron areas, sophisticated air traffic control and support facilities, vast passenger and cargo terminals, and appropriate expanses of land devoted to car parking and roads. A veritable buzz of activity, aeroplanes of a variety of sizes and types constantly landed or took off from the airport as a cheerfully pleasant, feminine voice announced arrival and departure times in English and French. As well as being state of the art and efficiently operated, the airport was both luxurious and aesthetically quite attractive, boasting an extremely high standard of décor and a stylish interior design.

Having arrived in Xirnium, the aircraft that had conveyed Wake and Young to the Eternal Republic manoeuvred carefully into position at gate thirty-seven, where its reception party waited patiently. Once there, an air bridge was employed in order to allow the comfortable debarkation of the aeroplane’s passengers directly into terminal building three. The majority of flights arriving at this terminal were from airlines operating from the Atlantic, or were important diplomatic and government aircraft. Officers from Special Branch and the Security Service had thoroughly scrutinised the passenger terminal before declaring it secured, and now stood around quietly and waited in precisely that manner which those who wish to appear inconspicuous but who are, in fact, anything but invariably seem to do.

Present at gate thirty-seven, in order to greet her guests on behalf of the Xirniumite Government, was Lady Amália Nathlhêndörniel, Parliamentary Secretary of State at the Ministry for Women and Gender Equality. Standing next to an ornamental fountain whose exalté atmosphere seemed to inspire quiet introspection, the parliamentarian talked chirpily with one or two of her secretaries, whiling away the time pleasantly enough. Amália had taken time out of her day’s schedule precisely so that she might hear the first of these public lectures, although in truth she was always happy to find an excuse to visit Neúvenärta.

Much more excited at the imminent arrival of the Commonwealth speakers was Dr Artèmise Sarëquâlondë, executive director of the Venimálwë Research Centre’s governing council. Sarëquâlondë had earned her master’s and doctorate degrees in Women’s Studies from the University of Naèräth, and had assumed leadership of the Venimálwë Research Centre after seven years of teaching at Ingolënquë University. Together with several key faculty members at Neúvenärta University’s School of Women’s Studies and Gender Research (including the deputy head of the school, Professor Ermengílda Fairânyël, and the school manager, Reader Héloïse Valkêrantúr), Artèmise waited eagerly to meet these prominent feminist activists, of whom she had already read so much.

Outside, it continued to snow lightly as the ladies from the Commonwealth finally emerged from their aeroplane. The wind’s tortured howl was entirely inaudible inside the terminal, although the icy weather itself was easily visible from the building’s numerous large observation windows. Moving forward, the Xirniumites greeted Beatrice and Emma warmly, politely introducing themselves and exchanging friendly kisses.

The Commonwealthers greeted and kissed the Xirniumites. Both women smiled warmly even though they were quite lagged from the Trans-Atlantic flight. Along with their Xirniumite escorts, the Young and Wake began to head towards baggage to pick up their luggage. Each woman had also carried a briefcase with her on the plane.

Wake gave a bemused smile as she glanced out the window. "It';s quite lovely weather. We don't get snow very often in the Danaan High Kingdom except for one or two of the more northern Atlantic Territories. I just hope I packed warmly enough."

Young smiled slightly as she also glanced out the window. "It is lovely. I imagine for people used to this much snow it's just an inconvenience that has to be dealt with in order to keep the roads clear. In Gandara, though, snow is something a little special." Young shook her head a little at her own words and changed the subject. "I must say that I was surprised and honoured to learn that we would be met by a Government Minister."

The parliamentary secretary smiled graciously at Emma, politely inclining her head, ever so slightly, towards the lady. Since her Ministry was, in part, funding the tour, it seemed perfectly appropriate to Lady Nathlhêndörniel that an appropriate member of the Government be present to attend its very first lecture.

‘I am looking forward to hearing your speech, Ms Young,’ affirmed Amália with a smile. ‘There’s rather a large amount of anticipation surrounding your lecture tour.’

‘Really? I can’t imagine we merit such attention,’ Emma protested.

The Xirniumite politician found this statement rather odd. Amália had, of course, been referring to the atmosphere within intellectual circles (and, in particular, feminist academic circles), and did not think the engendering of such interest there to be particularly strange.

‘I daresay that in that you are rather mistaken,’ explained Amália, although she was acutely aware of how trite such a response sounded. ‘The topic of your lecture is, after all, quite a timely one,’ added Lady Nathlhêndörniel, reasoning that she should probably offer some kind of justification for her assertion.

‘Well, feminism has always been topical,’ argued Artèmise with a smile. ‘The struggle for gender equality and women’s rights is one of enduring relevance.’

‘Yes, but I rather meant…’ Amália tried to clarify, frowning. ‘Well, what with for example the Reich-Prussian War, the Finaran incident, recent additional instances of illegal Allanean aggression worldwide... suffice it to say that Greater Prussia is always in the news.’

‘Is there much Prussian propaganda in Xirnium?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Prussian propaganda?’ repeated Amália, a little puzzled at the Danaan’s question. ‘Do you mean propaganda from Greater Prussia or pro-Prussian propaganda? There’s not really much of either, I suppose.’

Beatrice nodded a little. In the background, attendants took care of the ladies’ items of luggage.

‘There used to be a good deal in the Commonwealth until the Finara incident. Now even the Lanerian Libertarians see Kazansky for what he is,’ she explained.

‘Well, I think that in this respect it might be useful to make a distinction,’ Amália pointed out. ‘Prussian propaganda generally seems to divide either into the Protestant fundamentalist variety or that Anarcho-Libertarian nonsense from Allanea. Both types, of course, are harmful.’

‘I suppose so,’ Emma said.

‘I have always been surprised,’ continued Amália, ‘by precisely how willing the West has been to engage with the Allanean state, to make the fatal mistake of presuming theirs to be a rational government that one might actually work with. For instance it is interesting that, prior to the Finaran incident, the Resurgent Dream continued to believe that the Allanean government’s pretended respect for liberty and democracy somehow outshone their more ridiculous and criminal aspects.’

‘Their more criminal aspects weren’t generally well known,’ Beatrice noted.

Privately, at least, Lady Nathlhêndörniel thought this assertion patently absurd.

‘Either that, or perhap it was simply convenient for certain liberal democracies to turn a blind eye to such illegal activities, because these governments incorrectly thought that Allanea, irrational and irresponsible as it might be, could yet be used to further their own interests,’ suggested Amália with a cryptic smile.

Beatrice just raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing. She seemed slightly disappointed so far.

‘So, tell me about the university.’

The abrupt change of subject disconcerted Amália, who (though she went on smiling) lapsed into silence. Professor Fairânyël, for her part, found Beatrice’s inquiry rather puzzling in its broadness.

‘Neúvenärta University is one of the oldest institutions of higher learning in Xirnium,’ explained Ermengílda, not quite sure where else to begin.

‘And what are the students like?’ asked Beatrice vaguely.

‘Well… what are all students like?’ asked Ermengílda musingly. ‘Personally, I can say that I find most of my students to be very bright and challenging.’

Emma frowned slightly and put a hand on Beatrice’s arm. Ermengílda gradually began to perceive that she may have missed something.

‘I’m sure they are, doctor,’ Ms Young reassured Ermengílda. ‘Xirniumite higher education has a well-deserved international reputation.’

Beatrice smiled slightly at her colleague’s hand. ‘I’m just a little jet-lagged. I’ll feel better when we get some coffee.’

Emma nodded a little, removing her hand. ‘I could use some too, now that you mention it. Would that be a problem, ladies?’

Amália was beginning to look a little panicked.

‘Coffee, yes! Yes of course, you must both be rather tired,’ remarked Amália quickly, frowning thoughtfully. The parliamentary secretary resolved to snarl an order for coffee at the most immediate opportunity; out of her guests’ earshot, of course. ‘We will be having tea at the University, but of course we shall have something arranged in the meantime.’

Beatrice nodded. ‘That sounds delightful.’

‘Many of the faculty members are extremely eager to meet with you,’ added Héloïse, who had so far been silent. She smiled encouragingly.

‘I look forward to meeting all of them as well,’ Emma said.

‘In Neúvenärta, by far the quickest, easiest (and I daresay, most satisfying) way to travel is upon the lagoon’s waterways,’ explained Amália, very quickly and with a hint of nervousness. The parliamentary secretary was becoming increasingly impatient as she waited for final preparations to be made so that their cavalcade could depart.

‘We shall be going to the Neúvenärta University’s main campus by chartered ferry. Of course, I had rather hoped that the weather would be little more pleasant than today’s, but, well... that can hardly be helped!’ Amália exclaimed. The parliamentary secretary’s shrill, strident laughter came across as slightly more affected than she had intended.

Emma and Beatrice both smiled a little but seemed to have no comment to make. There was an awkward silence that hung in the air for a few minutes. The five women were getting increasingly uncomfortable.

The parliamentary secretary cleared her throat. ‘Even though this is the extreme south of Xirnium, it unfortunately still manages to be miserably cold in the winter, as you can see,’ explained Amália, still valiantly intent on pursuing her weather conversation topic.

‘I actually think it’s rather beautiful,’ Emma said. ‘There’s a pristine quality to it.’

‘Neúvenärta is lovely,’ agreed Artèmise softly, a strange twinkling in her eye. Unlike Amália (who resided, of course, in Naèräth, the seat of Parliament) Dr Sarëquâlondë happened to be a resident of this misty metropolis. ‘Do you plan to remain here long? It would be a terrible shame if you could not see too much of Neúvenärta for want of time.’

‘I have all the time in the world,’ Beatrice said. ‘Although it will have to be after the rest of our tour.’

‘Have any of you ladies ever been to Gandara?’ Emma asked, starting to relax now that the ice seemed to have been broken.

The Xirniumites shook their heads, Amália apologetically.

‘I’ve always wanted to visit Gandara,’ confessed Héloïse to Emma. ‘They claim that the Gandaran natural parks are really quite breathtaking.’

Artèmise, however, entirely ignored her colleagues’ conversation. The Xirniumite lady appeared to have been pleased with the Danaan’s response.

‘In that case, you simply must see our delightful little city,’ smiled Artèmise warmly.

‘Anything in particular?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Oh, many things in particular,’ replied Artèmise, touching her long hair as she thought. In many respects the Xirniumite academic was of typical Xirniumite appearance, and this was particularly so with respect to her brunette hair, which was exquisitely fine and soft. Its wavy strands were a rich, very dark brown colour, with perhaps something of gold.

The names of a dozen possible famous monuments flashed through Artèmise’s mind.

‘I’m going to be really boring and say Nymêntälya Palace,’ explained the Xirniumite lady with exaggerated embarrassment. ‘But it really is quite gorgeous, perfect for tragic romantics like me.’

‘I would very much like to see it,’ Beatrice said. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about it.’

‘I’m rather surprised, it seems to be one of Xirnium’s more popular tourist attractions these days,’ explained Artèmise in the same soft tone. ‘They say it flawlessly epitomises the eccentric romanticism of seventeenth century Neúvenärta. It has been the core of aristocratic social life here for centuries, of course.’

Beatrice laughed slightly but warmly. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve never been much involved with aristocratic circles.’

Artèmise could not help but smile as well, and regarded the Danaan with a curious look in her dark eyes. ‘Neither have I, but... well I’ve always held that you needn’t be a noble to appreciate fine culture. No matter what the beau monde might think.’

Beatrice nodded. ‘Agreed.’

Emma Young smiled a little at the conversation. "Xirnium certainly seems to live up to its reputation for cultural sophistication."

Later at the Cýthâglien
District of Nemánya Island in Neúvenärta

As Amália eagerly treated the Lanerian politician to an overly wordy exposition of Neúvenärta and its exceptional cultural heritage, Artèmise found her mind preoccupied, her thoughts increasingly focused on Beatrice. The Danaan had seemed very friendly to her, and also genuinely interested in what Artèmise had had to say. The Xirniumite academic had not failed to notice Beatrice’s grateful smile at the touch of her colleague, and had moreover been rather surprised at the tiny tinge of jealousy that she had felt. Artèmise felt a strange desire to talk to Beatrice in much more private surrounds, and after their elegant and swift catamaran ferry had arrived in Nemánya she had, as nonchalantly as possible, suggested a place were the Danaan might like to have lunch. Beatrice, of course, readily accepted the invitation.

The Cýthâglien was a delightful little restaurant situated on the east bank of the island of Nemánya, its light pastel edifice reflected clearly in the perfectly still, mirror-like waters of the Anëntúva canal. One of many hundreds of restaurants in Neúvenärta, the Cýthâglien emphasised luxuriousness and stylish taste, whilst maintaining the attraction of affordability for Artèmise. On the side of the restaurant facing away from the lagoon, the Cýthâglien fronted directly onto the Aväldäron Nôstálien, a vast, arcaded square paved with ancient granite stones that had been laid in the mediaeval era and surrounded by a charming plethora of stylish cafés and fashionable shops. To its north stood the Old Treasury in all its neoclassical glory, and to its south the renaissance masterpiece of the Old Library, housing one of the finest collections of early humanist manuscripts in the entire Western world. Even in this frigid weather, the Aväldäron Nôstálien was still thronged with cheerful people out on their lunch breaks and with playing children, who chased the swarms of grey pigeons.

Combining elegant and luxurious rooms with the choicest wine cellar and exquisitely fine cuisine, the Cýthâglien attracted a highly discriminating clientele. Inside, patrons were treated to lovely surrounds and exquisite décor, the building’s interior design replete with delicate ornament in elaborate plaster relief, rare woods and expensive marbles. The rooms did, however, tend toward a smaller size than was perhaps common, and thus instilled a closer and more intimate atmosphere, an effect only heightened by the choice of velvet pelmets and draperies.

Arriving at the restaurant, a polite attendant wearing a formal morning coat and waistcoat led the two ladies to a small round table covered in a damask tablecloth. Beatrice smiled a little as she took her seat on one of the velvet chairs that the waiter had drawn out.

‘I really hope that I haven’t caused problems for anyone’s schedule,’ the Danaan explained. ‘It’s just that our trip on the airplane was really long and I’m starving for a bite to eat. Do you think anyone will mind?’

Artèmise smiled a little conspiratorially at this. ‘Not at all, don’t be silly,’ the Xirniumite reassured Beatrice. ‘I’m sure that they can accommodate such a minor change to their plans.’

The Xirniumite smiled her thanks to the friendly waiter and casually open the leather-bound menu that he had handed her, touching her long hair.

‘What’s good here?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Might I recommend, madam, roast pheasant with rice, truffles, and foie gras stuffing, garnished with truffles and foie gras,’ spoke the waiter as he handed Beatrice the menu, although he wondered briefly if she had not been speaking to the lady opposite her.

‘That sounds a little heavy for lunch…’ Beatrice hesitated.

‘We have a lovely creamed chicken soufflé on today’s luncheon menu,’ suggested the waiter with a smile, quite undiscouraged.

‘That sounds wonderful. I'll have that and a glass of cranberry juice please,’ she responded.

‘I think I’ll have that same, and maybe some Gôndthéniel campagne,’ said Artèmise unconcernedly, her finger pausing on the wine list.

The waiter repeated their order smoothly, took back the bound menus, and left the two ladies alone.

‘This is a much nicer restaurant than I expected, doctor,’ Beatrice commented.

‘Please, Artèmise,’ smiled the academic. ‘This is actually one of the leading restaurants on Nemánya island,’ she explained, suppressing a small giggle. The statement was not entirely true, of course, for the Cýthâglien was merely one of the nicest restaurant that Artèmise could reasonably afford to frequent occasionally; quite a different matter entirely.

‘I’m not used to being treated so well. I will have to remember Xirniumite hospitality,’ Beatrice said.

‘You’re not used to being treated so well? Oh that’s just terrible!’ exclaimed Artèmise with a friendly smile. ‘Well, consider it my pleasure. To be fair, however, I am not used to lunching so well either,’ Artèmise confided.

‘Why is that so terrible?’ Beatrice asked with a slightly coy smile.

Artèmise smiled at this, slightly more self-consciously than before. Beatrice seemed rather more forward than she had first expected from a Danaan. ‘Why?’ she repeated. ‘Oh, because you seem like such a charming lady, I suppose.’

‘And here I thought you were just being political,’ Beatrice said playfully.

‘Perish the thought!’ exclaimed Artèmise in a bantering tone.

Beatrice smiled a little. ‘Well, you’re charming enough yourself.’

Artèmise smiled politely and touched her hair again. ‘I’m pleased that you think so,’ she replied.

‘I’m sorry. That must have sounded horribly unprofessional,’ Beatrice fretted.

Concern clouded Artèmise’s features. ‘Oh no!’ she reassured her quickly, and pressed the lady’s hand comfortingly. ‘I don’t mind!’

Artèmise looked intently into the Danaan’s eyes, worried that she might be upset.

‘You have been the very model of professional propriety,’ Artèmise added, hoping to make Beatrice laugh.

Beatrice did laugh a little. ‘Charming, beautiful and witty, I see.’

Artèmise coloured a little at this, but only a little. She was still a little worried that she had made Beatrice uncomfortable.

‘And you are so very flattering…’ Artèmise observed with a smile.

‘I’m just honest,’ Beatrice said. ‘Unfortunately, a bit of a liability in my business.’

‘Oh, I can imagine, and I think it’s just horrible,’ explained Artèmise earnestly.

‘Horrible that I'm honest?’ Beatrice teased.

‘Horrible that you keep making fun of me,’ pouted Artèmise archly, folding her arms across her chest in an exaggerated gesture of pretended irritation.

‘I’m cruel like that,’ Beatrice said, lightly pressing her foot forward.

The academic noticed Beatrice’s bold move and licked her lower lip thoughtfully, delighted by the Danaan’s interest in her.

‘Well I don’t like it,’ Artèmise said, but smiled broadly. The lady uncrossed her legs and then crossed them again, this time at the ankle instead of the knee, and smoothed her crisp skirt fastidiously.

‘So tell me more about yourself, Artèmise,’ Beatrice requested.

‘I’m afraid that there is not very much to tell, or that what I do have to tell wouldn’t be particularly riveting,’ smiled Artèmise. ‘I live here, in Neúvenärta, and have so all my life. Well, not all my life,' she admitted.

‘Where else have you lived?’ Beatrice asked.

‘I lived for a time in Naèräth, initially as an undergraduate student, and later moved to Ingolënquë for work.’

Beatrice nodded. ‘And you’re an active feminist here in Xirnium?’

Artèmise smiled. ‘Yes, well I hope so,’ she said.

‘So what does that mean?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Well, the Venimálwë Research Centre is less focused on activism per se than it is on promoting discussion and analysis from a feminist perspective. There are, of course, many activist feminist organisations, like the Feminist Alliance of Xirnium, a political party of which I am also a member.’

‘That doesn't answer my question though,’ Beatrice noted.

Artèmise looked confused. ‘Well I am a feminist in that I am both a feminist scholar and a campaigner for women’s rights,’ she said, stating the obvious. ‘Whether I am particularly active or not... I hope that I am. I’d like to think that I am.’

‘I meant what do you work on in Xirnium. It seems that most of the demands the women’s movement raises in other nations are already the status quo here,’ Beatrice said.

‘Ah, okay. Well, with respect to the Xirniumite women’s movement there is much that can be done. Incidences of domestic violence and sexual assault, for example, are still unacceptably high.’

‘And what are people doing to stop it? This is the sort of thing I like to learn about in every country I visit,’ Beatrice said, starting to go back into idealistic mode.

‘I would love to give you a full summary of our work, but we might be here all day!’ remarked Artèmise with a smile. ‘Okay, well there is a continuing need for fundamental rape law reform in Xirnium. Rape is still unfortunately underreported in the Eternal Republic, in part because of the possibility of distressing cross-examination by the defence in court. Well, of course we have powerful procedural and evidential rape shield laws to deal with these types of problems, but other issues remain.’

‘Like what?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Well as I am sure you can appreciate, the difficulty with rape trials is that sometimes there is an absence of corroborating evidence to support the complainant’s testimony,’ continued Artèmise. ‘Of course, the counsel for defence is severely limited in the ways that it might attack the credibility of the complainant, for example the admission of sexual history evidence is strictly prohibited, and not a matter for the discretion of the judge. Some have suggested that further steps be taken, forbidding the judge from commenting on the reliability of the complainant’s testimony under any circumstances, for instance.’

‘That sounds reasonable,’ Beatrice mused.

‘Well, there are concerns that in certain cases this might lead to a miscarriage of justice,’ Artèmise sighed. ‘Some have argued that it may be appropriate in certain particular situations to preserve the judge’s discretion to warn the jury about relying on a complainant’s testimony, for example in a specific instance where there has been a great delay in brining about the complaint and the facts of the case indicate a strong possibility of hatred as a motive to lie.

‘Fortunately, the controversy is not quite so serious a matter here as it would be in the rest of the Western world, since in Xirnium there has historically been a conspicuous absence of society’s belief in female fabrication and fantasy where it comes to sexual matters, that claims of sexual abuse were often the stories of hysterical women.’

‘Artèmise, what is the common opinion in Xirnium on all the Operation Dinah controversy?’ Beatrice asked.

Artèmise was a little taken aback by the sudden change in topic. ‘I think that its goals were very noble, Beatrice,’ said the Xirniumite academic after a while, somewhat evasively.

‘But..?’ Beatrice pressed.

‘Oh believe me, there’s no “but,”’ explained Artèmise honestly. ‘I think that you were very brave... and I'm sure you did the right thing,’ she said, almost whisperingly.

‘Thank you,’ Beatrice said sincerely. ‘Do most Xirniumites feel that way?’

Artèmise became slightly more uncomfortable, sighing. ‘Does it matter what they think, what anyone thinks? You know that you did the right thing, and in the end your conscience is the only thing that you must face every morning.’

Beatrice smiled slightly and said, somewhat unconvincingly, ‘I was only curious.’

Artèmise looked embarrassed, and was a little annoyed with Beatrice for having made her feel that way. ‘If you were only curious, then you need only have taken a cursory glance at the huge mass of Xirniumite literature concerning the much vaunted rule of law,’ she said, a little quietly.

Beatrice shook her head a little. ‘So what do you think of Miss Young?’

‘She’s a remarkable lady and an admirable feminist,’ replied Artèmise.

‘It’s a shame the Lanerians still won’t do anything about a town like Canaan,’ Beatrice said.

‘Curious, isn’t it, that you and Ms Young are here to give a lecture on the harm done to women by Greater Prussia, when something like that is allowed to happen within your own Commonwealth?’ remarked Artèmise in a tone slightly more biting than she had intended. ‘I don’t mean to say that such isn’t of concern to you both, of course,’ Artèmise clarified hastily.

‘It was a perfectly valid point, Artèmise,’ Beatrice said gently. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed about being frank with me.’

Artèmise was surprised at the fact that the Danaan thought her embarrassed. It was not that she had been embarrassed at all, rather that she had not wanted to risk hurting Beatrice’s feelings.

Beatrice smiled more broadly. ‘I do appreciate it though. You're as sensitive as you are charming.’

‘And you are brave and courageous,’ smiled Artèmise, ‘which I, personally, think is a far more laudable attribute.’

Beatrice smiled and ventured her foot forward a little more. Artèmise began to notice the foot, and a thrill of excitement coursed through her.

‘I know, of course, that both you and Ms Young face significant entrenched opposition, both societal and political, in your own countries,’ she explained. ‘That makes you a far more wonderful woman that I. Half of my work here has already been done by tradition and culture,’ joked Artèmise.

‘Surely there are issues of genuine controversy in Xirnium?’ Beatrice asked, even as the tip of that professional black shoe lightly made contact with Artèmise's own fashionable shoe.

Artèmise coquettishly feigned offence at Beatrice’s question. ‘You don’t think our work here is a significant enough issue for which controversy exists?’

‘I do. That was my point. You’re perfectly courageous.’ She withdrew her foot when there was no response.

Artèmise seemed frustrated at this, crossing one of her legs over her knee and casually slipping a slender foot out of its heeled shoe. The Xirniumite rested her chin in the palm of her hand and frowned delightfully.

‘You’re quite a fascinating lady, Ms Wake,’ observed the Xirniumite lady.

‘Beatrice,’ she insisted, extending her foot again but not reinitiating contact herself.

‘I know your name is Beatrice, silly,’ she said, her head still leaning on her hand, her elbow resting against the table.

Artèmise extended a toe and touched the Danaan’s ankle. Beatrice smiled, extending her own foot a little to let the Xirniumite run a foot over her stockinged ankle. ‘My, my... silly is such a silly word.’

‘Silly is a delightful word,’ disagreed Artèmise, twirling a lock of dark chestnut-brown hair around several slender fingers. ‘You are a delightful, silly person and silly is a delightful word.’

Artèmise normally would have cringed at the absolute gibberish that she was speaking. The Xirniumite decided to risk running her foot along Beatrice's calf.

Beatrice smiled softly. ‘I can’t remember the last time a woman reacted to me so... favourably.’

‘Oh nonsense, don’t be so utterly tragic,’ scoffed Artèmise with a playful grin.

‘Silly, nonsense... you don't much value my opinion, do you, dear?’ Beatrice teased.

‘Madam is being too hard on herself,’ Artèmise teased.

‘No, no, you are being too hard on me,’ Beatrice answered.

‘I am not. Of course I value your silly nonsensical opinions,' Artèmise reassured Beatrice, and now even she cringed a little at herself.

‘Real cute,’ Beatrice said with mock sarcasm.

‘Oh I am genuinely sorry for that,’ smiled Artèmise guiltily, and she sipped some sparkling wine to dampen her dry lips. ‘Too much, wasn't it?' she asked with a wink.

‘A little,’ Beatrice said, slipping her own foot out of her shoe.

‘So, are you close friends with Ms Young?’ asked Artèmise in a perfectly innocent tone, although her foot paused stroking Beatrice’s calf as she waited for the Danaan’s reply.

‘This is actually only the second time I've met her in person,’ Beatrice answered.

‘Ah, I see. Have you... well, I mean… a charming lady like you… you must have many close friends?’ spoke Artèmise nonsensically.

‘I don’t have a partner currently,’ Beatrice told her bluntly.

Artèmise smiled understandingly.

‘And you?’ Beatrice asked,

‘Oh, no,’ said Artèmise simply. ‘I do, however, have a lovely seven year old basset hound in my apartment named Vändwen,’ Artèmise added, trying to be clever.

‘I would like to meet him some time,’ Beatrice said.

‘Doubtless you will,’ remarked Artèmise as she touched Beatrice’s lovely unshod foot.

Beatrice slid her other foot loose and placed it atop Artèmise’s. ‘So you might like to go out some time?’

Artèmise’s heart skipped a beat and she blushed again, but this time she found it annoying. She wasn’t a little schoolgirl anymore. ‘I would love to.’

‘So now we can stop beating around the bush like nervous schoolgirls, then?’

‘I think we should,’ said the lady. Artèmise took the Danaan’s hand in hers, and looked at her fingers. ‘I want to know more about you, Beatrice.’

‘Well, I’m old, single, a disgraced politician...’ Beatrice said, smirking a little playfully.

‘I didn’t mean like that,’ frowned Artèmise. ‘And you’re certainly not old.’

‘What would you like to know?’ Beatrice asked.

The Xirniumite let go of Beatrice’s hand and sighed, her lips breaking into a grin. ‘I don’t think I really know,’ she confessed with a shrug. ‘I just want to know about the real you. Not the politician, not the single woman, but Beatrice.’

‘Beatrice is horribly boring. Trust me.’ she insisted.

Artèmise crossed her legs again and took a sip from her champagne glass. ‘Fine, have it your way, Ms Wake,’ she said with an amused smile.

‘Well, we can't all be hip young intellectuals,’ Beatrice teased.

Artèmise laughed mirthfully at this, her eyes shinning warmly. ‘Good heavens but you do know how to flatter someone, don’t you Beatrice?’ smiled the Xirniumite. ‘Young indeed! I should be surprised if I’m not older than you.’

‘I’m forty,’ Beatrice said.

‘I know you are,’ whispered Artèmise. ‘You are a public individual, after all.’

‘I don’t talk about me much. I’m much more comfortable discussing politics,’ Beatrice said.

‘Okay. I promise I won’t venture any more inquiries about the fascinating and mysterious Beatrice,’ promised Artèmise archly.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Beatrice protested in faint irritation.

‘Oh you’re not angry at me, are you?’ asked Artèmise with a smile. ‘Please forgive a silly woman like me for being daft and misunderstanding you.’

‘I suppose I can forgive you,’ Beatrice said, sliding her foot forward again.
Artèmise noticed Beatrice’s movement under the table and once again extended a toe to stroke her calf. ‘Oh I should be so pleased if you would, Ms Wake,’ breathed Artèmise affectedly clasping her delicate hand. At just that moment the waiter arrived with the meals that the two ladies had ordered.

Beatrice withdrew her hand with a smile. She lowered her head briefly and closed her eyes before beginning to eat.

‘I shall then, young lady.’

‘That, however, you really must stop!’ smiled Artèmise. ‘People will begin to wonder why I’m always blushing.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Beatrice said, before changing the subject rather abruptly. ‘You know what the main legal problem is with Canaan, don’t you?’

‘That it is home to a dangerous and misogynist Christian fundamentalist cult?’ ventured the Xirniumite. Artèmise did not really feel hungry, but sampled a bit of the soufflé anyway. It was quite delicious.

‘Christian fundamentalist is the wrong word,’ Beatrice said. ‘More to the point, however, is that very few laws are actually broken, at least in any way that can be verified.’

Artèmise sighed. ‘But haven’t women already come forward alleging claims of sexual abuse?’

‘Yes,’ Beatrice said.

‘Prosecuting offenders in such cases will always present practical problems because of the difficulty in proving a crime for which there might exist no other witnesses besides those actually involved in it,’ explained Artèmise. ‘But I’m not convinced that this alone is to blame. Likely there is also unwillingness to deal with this cult from the authorities themselves.’

‘Oh, very much so,’ Beatrice said.

‘So when you say that very few laws are broken in a way that can be verified,’ continued Artèmise, ‘what you really mean is that the true problems are the inadequacies and the discriminatory nature of the substantive law itself.’

‘No,’ Beatrice said. ‘I mean that their organisation as such does not violate existing laws regardless of incidents here and there.’

‘I’m afraid that I do not follow,’ confessed Artèmise. ‘How could an organisation whose members engage in sexual violence not be violating the law?’

‘Sexual violence is a violation of the law,’ Beatrice said. ‘That’s not what I said.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said that the way they organised their lives didn’t violate the law,’ she repeated.

‘Except that the way they organise their lives includes systematic sexual abuse,’ Artèmise pointed out. ‘I do understand what you are getting at, though,' Artèmise added hurriedly.

‘Oh?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Pardon?’

‘I don’t think you’re familiar with the details of the case,’ Beatrice said gently but firmly. ‘But let’s change the subject for now.’

Artèmise felt like a castigated student, but tried not to seem particularly troubled. ‘Sure.’

Beatrice smiled gently and shifted a little in her seat. ‘So what do you do when you aren’t being an activist or an academic?’

‘Those two are fairly time consuming occupations,’ noted Artèmise, perhaps just a little flatly.

‘And now you’re mad at me,’ Beatrice said.

Artèmise forced a smile. ‘No I’m not,’ she said, not entirely convincingly. ‘No, the truth is that I really don’t have much of a private life to speak of.’

‘A beautiful woman like you?’ Beatrice asked.

The Xirniumite smiled weakly, although this time she smiled genuinely.

‘I’m sorry if I was a bit snappish a minute ago,’ Beatrice offered.

‘There’s really no need to apologise,’ Artèmise explained, forgetting it.

‘I suppose the others will be waiting for us,’ Beatrice said.

‘Oh, are you bored of me already?’ smiled the academic.

‘Oh, I definitely plan to see more of you later, young lady,’ Beatrice said.

Artèmise ran her foot along Beatrice’s leg. ‘I can’t wait to see much more of you.’

‘In due time. I’m an old fashion girl,’ Beatrice said, only half-ironically.

Beatrice was the first to speak. She had a lawyer’s presence on the stage. Her tone was precise, never dull but never overly emotional either. It was authoritative tone, quietly confident of her convictions. Her brown eyes moved over the audience as she spoke, making frequent eye contact and assuring her audience that she was speaking to, not at, them.

“Xirniumites in particular are aware of the advances human knowledge has made in the last hundred years. Our understanding of how the natural world is ordered has increased as much in the last century as in the five centuries previous. Human beings have gone into outer space. Some have even left the Solar System and landed on other worlds orbiting other suns. Genetics, the blueprints of all life, have been explored and entire genomes mapped. Whether we’re speaking about space, the oceans, time or even life itself, we know more know that has ever been known before. Humanity collectively knows so much about the universe in which it lives that it is almost impossible for an individual to comprehend.

“The internet has placed this vast store of knowledge, the accumulation of thousands upon thousands of years of experimenting, exploring and theorizing, at our very fingertips. Essentially everyone in any developed nation and an increasing number in the underdeveloped world has access to the internet and correspondingly to more knowledge than they could ever digest.

“However, the possibilities of knowledge and thought come with a certain cost, one which many find scary or disturbing. That cost is uncertainty. In the past, in most if not all of the world, one comprehensive doctrine or another prevailed. Even those who rebelled against the prevailing doctrine didn’t really deny it. It was simply accepted fact and it told people all they needed to know about life, death, existence, God, morality…All the things we today think of as the big questions, largely unanswerable and intensely personal, were then simply givens. Whatever answer the comprehensive doctrine prevailing in a particular area might give was simply truth to the people living there, who were unlikely to ever be exposed to anything else except in the most caricatured form. The world was a certain place if not always a safe one and the average person could go through life grounded and confident in his theory of everything, however inaccurate or uncertain it might seem in the light of modern knowledge and discourse.

“Over the last century, there have been many who believed that people were merely finding a new certainty, whether it be logical positivism or humanism or some other philosophy. For some, this has been true. There are many today who make their way through life with quiet confidence in these philosophical systems just as there are still many who make their way through life with the same quiet confidence in a more traditional religious system as their ancestors must have had.

“There have been many others who have been able to thrive in an intellectually, philosophically and spiritually richer world. They have been able to appreciate the great variety of human ideas and to find a moral path in the world based upon respect for others, vibrant public and private discourse and various other ideas derived from new and old doctrines with an understanding that they are personal, some might say existential, commitments in a richly diverse and beautifully complex world.” Wake paused at this point to gauge the reaction of her audience. She was aware that this wasn’t exactly what they had been expecting so far.

With vast, deep rows of tiered seating capable of luxuriously accommodating upwards of three thousand people and massive, gilt timber trusses spanning the yawning expanse beneath its decorated ceiling, the fabulously ornate Avärien Theatre succeeded in exuding a magnificent and imposing air. The gift of a former pro-proctor of Neúvenärta University renowned for his forbidding strictness, its intended purpose had been to provide an appropriately splendid venue for staging the institution’s major public ceremonies (including encaenia, graduation and matriculation ceremonies), its most important classical music recitals, and the various prestigious annual and guest lectures held each year. Built in the early fifteenth century, the ancient theatre followed a classical form and had been constructed from a design created by Valtáriel Findârien, a distinguished professor at Neúvenärta University’s faculty of the quadrivium (a traditional mediaeval university curriculum concerned with the “mathematical” liberal arts).

Findârien had been particularly fascinated by the disciplines of geometry and arithmetic, contributing much to the European revival of linear perspective in Renaissance art. His theatre design featured distinctly classical elements, including a prominent (currently snow-covered) dome of splendid rib construction, attractively surmounted by a polygonal, cupola-like lantern resplendent with decorative arcades and sides beautifully glazed to admit the sun’s dazzling light. The Avärien Theatre’s mouldings, architectural orders, and door and window frames were of soft, exquisite blue-grey stone, contrasting wonderfully with walls of light stucco. The building’s ornaments were naturally very classical in character, featuring florid and sinuously carved, imposing columns, tall, richly decorative pilasters, and very graceful loggia galleries.

As an ancient institution of learning who origins were obscured in the very depths of time, the University of Neúvenärta possessed a renowned tradition for academic dress. For the occasion of this free public lecture, members of the university present who held bachelor’s, master’s or doctoral degrees (and were thus not in statu pupillari) wore voluminous and long, black stuff or silk damask gowns, laced in the case of each doctor. The theatre appeared to have been completely filled for the lecture, with every single seat in the elegantly balustraded and richly wood-panelled auditorium, from dress circle to balcony, occupied by keen and interested individuals.

The muffled roar of the Avärien Theatre’s vast, reverberating chamber immediately transformed into total silence as the university lecturers soberly entered the main stage, a raised central platform that was smoothly polished and covered in elaborate, exotic wood parquetry. The sounds of murmured whisperings and ruffling papers ceased as the audience stood respectfully from their seats, an action customary at all levels of the Xirniumite education system whenever a teacher or lecturer entered a room. As the faculty member whose pleasure it was to introduce the celebrity speakers, Professor Hyarëdácil was now appropriately attired in formal subfusc clothing, having also donned a spectacularly noble-looking, long scarlet doctoral robe, with facings and sleeve linings in lovely amethyst silk, and holding a square topped, black velvet mortar board cap, with attached gold tassel and trim. Her senior colleagues, including Artèmise, wore flowing black gowns and academic hoods lined with fine silk taffeta in the colour of their division. The head of the School for Women’s Studies and Gender Research briefly introduced her guests and their topic before concisely describing their political backgrounds, after which the first speaker, Ms Wake, was greeted with polite applause and careful, quiet attention.

As Beatrice spoke, the audience (seated in an auditorium of semicircular configuration around her stage) listened intently and politely. A number of the undergraduate students and university academics occasionally scribbled brief points or questions in spiral-bound notebooks, whilst others wrote down detailed thoughts and observation in rapid shorthand stenography. Some did neither, for in any case the lecture would be taped, and an audiovisual recording and transcript of the speech made publicly available via the university’s internet website. The Danaan politician proved quite a pleasure to listen to, her manner engaging and interesting, passionate yet logically rational. Thus far, Ms Wake seemed to have spoken predominately in preambular tones, almost intentionally prolonging the moment before turning to decisively address the main thesis of her lecture. Some may have expected a more controversial and forceful start, instead of this gradually meandering and generalised introduction. At her pause, a large part of the audience continued to look at Beatrice with something akin to anticipation.

"However, for many others, the adjustment has not been so easy. Some people live comfortable lives at the expense of living meaningful lives. In the absence of certain and externally provided answers regarding basic questions of meaning, they give up the attempt, dismissing the questions most important to humanity's exploration of its own nature as too uncertain and too removed from everyday existence. This is, in its own way, troubling, but is not our topic tonight.

"Others perceive an absence of meaning to their lives regarding which they become extremely self-conscious. Such people naturally seek out some doctrine which can give them comfort and often embrace it with a frightening fanaticism. The specific doctrine is not of much relevance as long as it offers a self-contained worldview capable of defining away any arguments against it, a closely-knit community of like-thinking people and a definition of its adherents as set outside and against the prevailing order of things. It is a backlash against the increasing pluralism of human thought and it is equally to be found both in the extremist version of libertarianism practiced in Allanea and the religious fanaticism of many of the other Prussian states. It is this commonality that links together ideologies which, on the surface, seem so different."