NationStates Jolt Archive

White Palace, Obsidia

Princess Anne stood at the podium placed in front of the reporters. It was late Saturday night, the traditional time given to foreign reporters by the executive branch of the government. Normally the Prime Minister would field questions from the usually timid foreign press corps for half an hour, everything would wrap up nicely with a smile and tea afterward. However, with Olendorf back in the hospital (and the standing order not to let Foreign Minister Ziller near any foreigners) the weekly press briefing fell into the Vicereine's lap.

"Princess Anne," a Rosian journalist said as he stood up, "could you please elaborate on the condition of Prime Minister Olendorf? This is his tenth trip to the hospital in less than two months. Will he be replaced?"

"First of all," the Vicereine responded, "I am not a medical expert. I am in no way qualified to elaborate upon the current status of Doctor Olendorf's health. Furthermore I will not engage hypothetical questions. When it is time for a new Prime Minister to rise up, that's when Doctor Olendorf will step aside and not a moment before."

Reporters continued to fire questions at her as she continued to deflect them. With a soft smile and sharp mind she speed through the briefing. There was only one truly important thing she had to say tonight and that would come at the end of briefing.

Anne finished answering a question about projected grain production in the Eastern Provinces when one of her aides came over the loudspeaker.

"No more questions. The Vicereine has a statement."

Anne pulled out a sheet of paper, after clearing her throat she began to read:

"Earlier today this Government and the Government of the Incorporated States of Sarzonia agreed to talks in the Sarzonian capital of Woodstock. This conference will be focused on the establishment of a Free Trade Agreement, exchange of military bases, and a possible series of joint Hampto-Sarzonian military exercises.

The Grand Duke, due to his current medical condition, will be unable to attend the conference in Woodstock. As Vicereine of the Grand Duchy I shall, in the name of the Grand Duke and the authority of the Privy Council, attend the conference. Those pledges and treaties which shall be secured will be returned to the Royal Senate for ratification. I will say now, and I shall not retract this, Royal Proclamations shall not be issued should the Royal Senate decide to reject the proposals."

She paused to clear her throat. The idea of leaving such an important and groundbreaking decision in the hands of Allenby and his cronies left a bad taste in her mouth. She continued:

"It is the firmest wish of His Royal Highness, Grand Duke Reginald Leopold the First, that the bonds of friendship and alliance that have begun to grow between our two nations continues to flourish. While there are still areas of disagreement and discord in our bilateral relations, every day the bonds that join us together grow stronger. President Lord Michael Sarzo is a man of conviction and honesty, it is the belief of this Government what any agreements reached with the Incorporated States are to the ultimate benefit of the Grand Duchy of Her Protectorates."

Press Briefing Room, Gray House

During his weekly press conference, President Mike Sarzo was fielding the usual run of questions on issues such as the budget deficit, business regulations, and the like. Finally, a Hamptonian press corps member raised her hand.

"Mr. President, what is the purpose behind the conference with the Grand Duchy, and what is your take on the absence of the Grand Duke?"

Sarzo inched back for a brief moment, as if taken aback by the question.

"You kind of jumped the gun on me a bit," Sarzo said. "As the Viscerine indicated in her press conference, the purpose behind this conference is three fold. One, it will allow us to establish parameters for establishing military bases. Two, it will set the stage for free trade agreements which will benefit both countries. Three, and of particular interest to Army Chief Antonius Santius, the commencement of joint exercises with the Royal Army."

"Mr. President, what is the reason for this move toward stronger relations with Hamptonshire," a reporter from the newly reorganised Woodstock Daily Mail asked. Sarzo raised his eyebrow for a brief second before he remembered that the paper changed its format to a broadsheet and changed its operation from a trashy tabloid to a newspaper that was intended to become the country's paper of record once again. When he realised that was the case, he smiled slightly.

"We fervently believe that our period of misunderstandings with Hamptonshire have successfully become a part of the past," he said. "We are striving toward the building of a great future between our two great peoples, and this conference is a start on the path toward a bright new day.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a conference to prepare for, and some guest accomodations to arrange for."

Chris Bonham was watching ZSPAN from a secluded cabin approximately 40 kilometres from Townshend. The city, which was only now being rebuilt after the long ago nuclear devastation that destroyed the capital of Sarzonia's southernmost state, was where Bonham went to the abandoned high school he used as his headquarters. Even though the contamination from the attack had been cleared away, the physical scars remained.

He was just visiting his little brother David, but the two hour visit was preceded by and followed with extensive security and hassles from the state's milita. The reason, little brother David was the governor of Bausch, the southernmost state where Chris was making his living. Getting a chance to talk brother to brother without the media nearby or without members of the milita standing guard was no easy task, but Chris managed to find a way. He always had a knack for it.

Conference with Hamptonshite, Chris grumbled. He knew how close Sarzonia came to hostilities with Hamptonshire just a short time ago and he knew what the first step in ending those hostilities did to the organisation he only now was beginning to lead out of the abyss of a failed civil war. Those thoughts were flooding his mind as the cell phone attached to the left side of his waist started beeping.

The secure line, he realised. He looked at the caller ID display and raised an eyebrow. It was David.

"Yes, little buddy," he said after turning the phone on to talk.

"Secure channel, this is Governor Bonham," David replied.

"Okay, what have you got?"

"A plan to mobilise to initiate Phase 2." Phase 2. Even for a veteran like Chris, the mere mention of Phase 2 sent a shiver down his spine. He knew his ultimate goal would have to wait, but fulfilling Phase 2's objectives would still accomplish a large measure of the revenge Chris and his minions were looking for.

As Chris listened to David outline the plan, he allowed his mouth to slowly crease into a sneer.

The RSTF will live again, he thought. Princess Anne will be a worthy victim, even if she is Hamptonian scum. While Chris made known his hatred of Hamptonshire, David knew one thing. His older brother and the Restore Sarzonia Task Force that his brother was taking charge of would need to swallow their resentment, at least for a short while longer.

Earlier in the day Princess Anne boarded her jet, Government One, to begin the first leg of a journey that would reach across the nation and into Sarzonia. That first portion of the trip was a four thousand mile trek from Obsidia to city of Portshire on Harrkona Island. She wasn't there to make a speech or drum up support, she was there to visit the only close family member she had left.

-------------

An orderly wheeled the Grand Duke out of his personal room in the secluded North Wing of the Granhom Institute. For the past four months the ninety-two year old sovereign had been undergoing intensive cancer treatment. Half a dozen surgeries, weeks of chemotherapy and radiation therapy, and regimes of powerful anti-cancer drugs were taking their toll on his increasingly fragile body.

As Reginald Leopold turned the last corner of the hallway and came into view of the Vicreine she gasped in horror. In the wheelchair before her was a hairless, emaciated, fragile old man. He looked as if death could take him away at any moment. Just four months ago he was healthy and vibrant, a man you could mistake for a fifty year old. Now he looked decades beyond even his true advanced age.

The orderly pushed the Grand Duke to the center of the room and left. For a moment the Princess silently looked into the eyes of her dying uncle. She could see the guilt, regret, and pain in his eyes. The fire and determination that once filled him seemed to be slowly fading away into darkness. Anne finally couldn't take anymore; she collapsed into her uncle's lap, hugging his knees.

"It's all right," the Grand Duke whispered, "it's all right." His voice was strained, only a few hours before the doctors removed the breathing tube from his throat. "I'm the one that made you Vicereine. You can't be around here wait for me to die, the nation needs you."

The words of comfort only made it worse for Anne. There were times she could have come up to Portshire before now. She didn't cry but all the emotions she kept bottled up began to bubble to the surface.

"I should have been here before...I should be with you."

"I'm just a single person, a minor player in the grand scheme of things. I'm not going to be around forever and when I do go there has to be people willing to stand up and take the reigns. You are doing what you have to do, never ever feel bad about that."

The Princess picked herself up and sat in the chair next to her uncle. While there ostensively to discuss the upcoming conference in Sarzonia with the Grand Duke she was more concerned about seeing her last true family member before it was too late. They talked for hours, only stopping when the Grand Duke grew too weak to talk. The conference wasn't for a few more days, so she would remain in Portshire until it was time to leave.

The time with her uncle gave her a sense of renewed purpose...and deep trepidation about the future.

The taxi stopped. A rather ordinary looking man got out of the back of the car and paid his fare. No one paid any attention to the man. He pulled out a cigarette as he began to walk the streets, his airy figure almost floating over the pavement. It wasn't his first time in Townshend but no one would remember him and there would be no records to preserve his journeys.

As he walked people parted before him without thinking. The man had a poweful presense contained in a completely unremarkable package. He casually walked into the Governor's Mansion, navigating the halls and corridors like he belonged in the building. The man walked passed policemen, guards, staffers, and personal aides to the Governor. None took notice of the man getting ever closer to the Governor's Office. Without turning a head, rustling a paper, or making a sound he came into the Office and sat in chair in a dark corner of the room. He continued to smoke his cigarette as we waited for Governor Bonham to return.

Tiny Ants are eated by Gremlins.

bump

David was just coming back in from his lunch with his press secretary when he saw Mr. Saunders waiting patiently for him.

That's strange, David thought. What the, he thought. Must have been one of those meetings I forgot I had. He turned and nodded at Saunders.

"Follow me."

He walked in, and cast his eyes back to look at Saunders as he set foot in his office. He walked to his desk and sat down and motioned for Saunders to sit down.

"So, what's on your mind," he asked, trying to keep an air of geniality while he had more sinister thoughts in the back of his mind.

Mister Saunders continued to smoke his cigarette, ignoring Governor Bonham. It wasn't out of rudeness or inconsideration, it was as if the two men that were no more than six feet from each other inhabited different dimensions.

Still not acknowledging another presence in the room, Mister Saunders took the cigarette from his lips. He began to speak in his unnaturally clear, yet indistinct, voice.

"You have seen the news."

He paused, flicking some ashes onto the carpet. "The time has come. I have the money and material needed to complete this phase of the operation. You will act and everything will fall into place."

Tag - this should be good. :)