Hamptonshire
27-07-2004, 06:13
OOC: This is the first of a series of threads and RPs that may change Hamptonshire forever. Defense Minister Sir Walter Melville (http://img37.photobucket.com/albums/v114/hamptonshire/rg_biofilmo12003.jpg)
IC:
It was another clear and cold night in Hamptonshire City, like so many before. In his office in the Ministry of Defense Headquarters, Defense Minister Sir Walter Melville is rapping up another long day of work. He's been Defense Minister for almost 25 years, in all that time he has proven to be a staunch ally of the Grand Duke and the Central Coalition Party. However, in the past 4 years the Nationalist Union and their Republic Party allies have taken control of the Royal Congress. While the rank-and-file of the Royal Armed Forces stand with the Grand Duke and his Cabinet, most of the General Staff Officers and the Joint High Command Council have fallen under the influence of the Nationalist Union. One of the last major hurdles between the Nationalist Union and near total control over the Royal Armed Forces is Sir Walter.
We've got a thrid of the Fleet in Cameroon, half the Royal Army pulling colonial duty, and the Royal Air Force is undergoing a 'Modernization Campaign'. On top of all of that, the Royal Senate is demanding a decrease in front line troops. This doesn't make sense. Sir Walter thinks to himself while sitting at his desk. Now with Field Marshal Kepplar directly ordering missions in Manium the military and civilian worlds will collide. Damn Senator Allenby.
Finishing more paperwork, as well as reading some very empassioned letters from the Governor of McClellen Colony on the matter of military interference, Sir Walter takes a look at a wall clock.
"It's 2:17 in the morning, God these days never end." he says to himself while walking to his intercom unit.
"Ms. Coopers."
"Yes, Minister?" his personal security replies over the intercom.
"You can go home now. I'm just about done for the night and we have fairly empty day tomorrow."
"Very good, sir. Can I get anything for you before I leave?" she asks.
"No. I'll see you tomorrow." he says before releasing the intercom button.
He walks over back behind his desk, open the bottom left hand drawer, and pulls out a small bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a small glass, drinks it all, and sits back down. Relaxing in his seat, he begins to wonder about recent developments. Why did the Royal Congress object to sending money to Africa? We could afford it and it gives our international reputation a shot in the arm. Why did the Royal Senate directly order an entire Grand Division to leave Cameroon? Why not ask Field Marshal Kepplar to do it? Why create military colonies in Manium not under the jurisdiction of the civilian government? All of these questions are without answers, for now at least.
As Sir Walter readies himself to leave his office, he notices on more file folder. He opens it up and reads the contents. It's a draft of an order he is considering giving to the Joint High Command Council demanding that the Southern Military Colonies in Manium be placed under the direct authority of the civilian Governor.
I could wait until morning he thinks, but this order will catch hell no matter what time of day I sign it.
With that he signs the order, certifies it, and places it for immediate distribution. Standing up, he pauses for a second and then walks to the doors tha lead outside to the portico. Walking out, he breathes in deeply the cold, crisp air. The view from the 15th story portico is almost without rival in the City. Walking out all the way, he grabs onto the handrails, closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. He is looking forward to coming home, kissing his son on the forehead, and waking up next to his wife in the morning.
He drops to the ground. He never even heard the shot.
IC:
It was another clear and cold night in Hamptonshire City, like so many before. In his office in the Ministry of Defense Headquarters, Defense Minister Sir Walter Melville is rapping up another long day of work. He's been Defense Minister for almost 25 years, in all that time he has proven to be a staunch ally of the Grand Duke and the Central Coalition Party. However, in the past 4 years the Nationalist Union and their Republic Party allies have taken control of the Royal Congress. While the rank-and-file of the Royal Armed Forces stand with the Grand Duke and his Cabinet, most of the General Staff Officers and the Joint High Command Council have fallen under the influence of the Nationalist Union. One of the last major hurdles between the Nationalist Union and near total control over the Royal Armed Forces is Sir Walter.
We've got a thrid of the Fleet in Cameroon, half the Royal Army pulling colonial duty, and the Royal Air Force is undergoing a 'Modernization Campaign'. On top of all of that, the Royal Senate is demanding a decrease in front line troops. This doesn't make sense. Sir Walter thinks to himself while sitting at his desk. Now with Field Marshal Kepplar directly ordering missions in Manium the military and civilian worlds will collide. Damn Senator Allenby.
Finishing more paperwork, as well as reading some very empassioned letters from the Governor of McClellen Colony on the matter of military interference, Sir Walter takes a look at a wall clock.
"It's 2:17 in the morning, God these days never end." he says to himself while walking to his intercom unit.
"Ms. Coopers."
"Yes, Minister?" his personal security replies over the intercom.
"You can go home now. I'm just about done for the night and we have fairly empty day tomorrow."
"Very good, sir. Can I get anything for you before I leave?" she asks.
"No. I'll see you tomorrow." he says before releasing the intercom button.
He walks over back behind his desk, open the bottom left hand drawer, and pulls out a small bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a small glass, drinks it all, and sits back down. Relaxing in his seat, he begins to wonder about recent developments. Why did the Royal Congress object to sending money to Africa? We could afford it and it gives our international reputation a shot in the arm. Why did the Royal Senate directly order an entire Grand Division to leave Cameroon? Why not ask Field Marshal Kepplar to do it? Why create military colonies in Manium not under the jurisdiction of the civilian government? All of these questions are without answers, for now at least.
As Sir Walter readies himself to leave his office, he notices on more file folder. He opens it up and reads the contents. It's a draft of an order he is considering giving to the Joint High Command Council demanding that the Southern Military Colonies in Manium be placed under the direct authority of the civilian Governor.
I could wait until morning he thinks, but this order will catch hell no matter what time of day I sign it.
With that he signs the order, certifies it, and places it for immediate distribution. Standing up, he pauses for a second and then walks to the doors tha lead outside to the portico. Walking out, he breathes in deeply the cold, crisp air. The view from the 15th story portico is almost without rival in the City. Walking out all the way, he grabs onto the handrails, closes his eyes, and takes in a deep breath. He is looking forward to coming home, kissing his son on the forehead, and waking up next to his wife in the morning.
He drops to the ground. He never even heard the shot.