NationStates Jolt Archive

Neo-Jagada

Undren walked threw the darker than ever halls of the Imperial Palace, he was sweating and nervous. He had been summoned out of the blue by Dark Lord York to come to his throne chamber. This was highly uncalled for in Jagite society--at least the society the Imperator's built. Servants were only summoned when they were to be killed upon entry into the throne room for some count of treason, most Imperator's requested their servants presence--if the request was denied then they were summoned. The former Imperator had plenty of reasons to be executed by York. For starters, despite how the country may have appeared on the outside, York wasn't in total control of the country--just the military. The Dark Lord, even in Old Jagada wasn't a statemen, he was Field Marshall, a soldier. Undren still controlled 'The Eye' the Jagite Secret Police, whom could kill York at any time they pleased. He also held influence over most of the people. With a loyal population and secret police he could usurp power from York at any time he desired. Secondly, he wasn't exactly what one would call loyal or kind--he had after all killed his own father, the last Imperator, to assume his title before surrendering it to York. To kill ones father was a sign of great disloyalty and lack of sanity in Jagite society, new or old. York obviously must have known this. Undren had abanonded his weapons in his room, if the Dark Lord was going to kill him, he at least wanted a few words with him and any sign of weaponry may lead to a quick death. Undren though, did carry a small knife up his cloth sleeve, just in case York got close enough.

The soldiers that stood at the door saluted Undren as he appoarched and opened the door to the throne room for him. Undren entered the dark, and gloomy throne room of the Dark Lord. The fact that it was dark and gloomy was unusual in and of itself as York usually kept it lit up. The echoes of Undren's boots filled the room as he walked deeper and deeper into the darkness. In the center of the room he saw York, the Dark Lord of the Dark Empire of Jagada, sitting on his throne. His face illuminated by torches on both sides of the throne--as if to add to the darkness which he seemed to carry about him these days. Undren continued to walk at normal speed, but his eyes kept shifting left and right constantly as if awaiting the blade or the rifle of some soldier to find him. Undren reached York and went to one knee, bowing his head.

"Dark Lord, you wanted to see me?" asked Undren.

York just looked at Undren for a moment, as if his mind were elsewhere, suddenly his eyes shifted and his head lifted up--as if he came from a dream. "Undren, tell me. You know more about this new Jagada than I. You grew up in it. You came from the poorest of the poor, did you not?" asked York.

Undren rose to his feet, "Yes, Dark Lord."

York smirked, "Good, then I want your advise. How is life for the common Jagite? Is it as bad as it looks?"

Undren shook his head, "I wish, sire. It is much worse than it looks. During my childhood, before my father adopted me, I was often forced to steal food, or simply not eat at all--for days."

York gave a growl of annoyance, "That bad."

Undren nodded. He realized this wasn't some plot to kill him, but was geniunely a conversation between himself and the new Dark Lord of Jagada. York rubbed his beaded chin as if pondering on something. "Why did you and the Imperators before you do nothing to assist the people? What kind of economy did you run?"

Undren looked at bit surprised, "My lord, the curent economic system isn't some fault on our part. It is on purpose."

York raised and eyebrow, "Explain."

"Sire, we, the Imperators I mean, saved the people. We saved them from Kraven, we hid them away, we gave them what they have now. In turn, sire, they gave us this Palace. It is a symbol of their kindness towards us," said Undren with pride in his voice.

York's face turned from confusion to anger, "Why don't I believe the people simply handed you over their scarce money so you can build this monolithic structure?"

Undren was confused, he wasn't sure what York was getting at. The people are to be servants of the Imperators, not equals with them, and the people should pay so that the man who watches over them can enjoy pleasures that they will never be able to experiance. "My lord, we taxed the people of coarse. We watch over them, we keep the military in line, we save them from foreigners. In turn they give us all their money but a few icons. We built this structure as a momument to our greatness and authority over the lower classes."

York's expression stayed the same, but he was even more anger, "So, instead of helping the people threw the economic system I established and those before me worked to achieve. You simply took all the people's money and used it to build a bigger house for yourselves?"

Undren took a step back as York's voice was dark and almost evil in sound, "Yes my Dark Lord."

York came up out of his throne in a fury, "Get out!" he shouted as he nearly ran towards Undren. The former Imperator knew his time with York was over, and quickly left with York right on his heels all the way to the doors, where York personally slammed them shut.

Undren was shocked, as he walked with a fast pace back towards his chambers, he constantly looked over his shoulder to see if guards or York himself was still behind him. He was so busy being fearful of being shot in the back he didn't see the man in front of him and the two ran into each other. Undren turned around to see that it was a man in a cloak with a hood over his head.

"Watch where you're going you fool," exclaimed Undren.

"Remeber the power, Imperator Undren," said the man before walking on into the darkness and disappearing. Undren stood in great confusion as he looked at the man disappear into the darkness of the castle. Much was unsual these days, so many things that defied science, that defied logic--tradition even. Undren felt something in his hand, he looked down to see a note in it.

The air was suddenly cold, as if the darkness of the castle realized something was about to happen...

[OOC: This is an Economic/Character RP. It will go into restarting the Jagite economy, also about some betrayals, and York's rise to power.]

Second Empire of the Golden Throne

Fields of Mons Dei
Jagada had been crushed under the heel of a grand array of invaders, all allied to simply kill. It was the epitome of human immorality. Disgusting. Unfortunately, one of the greatest allies of the Empire, the Killians, had taken part in this most dispicable act of barbarism, and even more unfortunate, at least for Jagada, the country had faced a national tragedy with the loss of its colonies to the Empire itself. Nevertheless, despite all these occurances which one would assume would guarantee the breaking of ties for ever more, Emperor Fedor, now preoccupied with the War of Golden Succession, the progression of internal politics in the lands he did control and the success of the Empire's foreign image abroad, looked foward to expanding the zone of influence the Empire now exerted. With so many enemies and so little in the way of allies, economic friendships and, if possible and more lucrative, economic dependents were something of much demand in the capital and Empire in general. For those very reasons Jagada became the prime target of the expansion of absolute capitalism which preached the importance of competition and more accurately competition for the benefit of the state. Jench Fersas would make similar attempts in Kraven, attempting to 'convert' their slave states as well, including Whyatica and Neo-Kravenite, but Jagada would become the focal point for now.

For that reason the top economists that also had some influence in the Empire's administrative divisions had been forced to meet in the bloodied battlefields of Mons Dei, where two battles had been fought in less than three months, claiming the lives of at least fifty thousand men. The stench of slaughter still portruded from the crisply burnt blades of grass which one sorrounded the mountain Mons Dei, or Mountain of the Gods (accurately it would be Deii, I know). These men included the little known Turet Fíender, a prodigé of the now deceased Harbinger, once proud owner of the Kriegzimmer Conglomerate. The men arrayed themselves within the portable and lightweight trench that housed the royal during his campaign and no one spoke until Fedor did. The Emperor looked each and every one in the eye, until he laid rest on Fíender and he greeted him, "Turet, good to know you are well and alive."

The other man nodded and replied, "Aye your imperial majesty. It is just as well to know that you have been victorious thus far in your war against the rebels and those Havenic scum from the south."

The emperor nodded back but waved that off, "Thank you, but I must digress, as that is of no importance now." He took a sip of the water that laid out on a smaller table to his right. The others had one long table with nothing as of yet to compliment their arrival. Fedor's eyes switched to the opening of the tent and as he did it revealed a string of beautiful women, barely clothed, and laden with food and drinks. Fedor, like his grandfather who ruled before him, was not one to leave his guests starving. But he continued soon thereafter, "Jagada was crushed by a grand alliance of nations. As we all know, post-bellum comes reconstruction, and with reconstruction comes poverty and the opening of opportunities for the strong. Despite our continued efforts to turn the tide in the War of Golden Succession I have no doubts we remain the bigger player of all the players in this current situation revolving around Jagada."

One of the economist broke in stuttering, "How d-d-does this concern us?" He dipped down to grab more of his food, politely shoving it into his mouth, chewing on it silently and then gulping it down as the emperor gave his response.

Fedor flashed a face of impatience and responded promptly, "Patience." The other man stayed quiet and the emperor pressed further, "Absolute Capitalism is a small theory that can be turned international. Ambition. Ambition is what drives success, and we must have the ambition to drive Absolute Capitalism on the international scale. Space Union was an unfortunate failure, but now Jagada offers us yet another opportunity. I will not hesitate to take this." He could feel that the rest were loosing their interest, but he waved it off. "You are my top thinkers. Most of you will work in Fedala, feeding our operatives in Jagada with valuable information for success. Understood?"

Fíender knew he was not one of those pencil pushers in Fedala, so he went ahead and asked, "And I, your imperial majesty?"

Fedor smiled and replied, "You Turet, will go to Jagada and speak to their highest form of life. I don't care how hard it is to get to him, or high he thinks of himself, you will show him and prove to him that the Empire will and will always be his superior. You are a driving man, I know, and I know you will not fail me."

Turet Fíender hesitated for a bit, but he inclined his head and replied, "Of course, your imperial majesty."

The men continued their meal, discussing the specifics and then changing the topic. They would leave by two in the afternoon, whereupon Fedor would return to his daily chore of preparing his forces for the final drive to Weigar herself. But the groundwork had been laid for the Imperial incursion into the now wartorn Neo-Jagada, and through one method or another Absolute Capitalism would be injected into them, and the country would become an economic asset to Fedala. This was necessarilly bad for Jagada - in fact, it could be quite profitable - but it would signify some sort of economic dependency off the Empire. In the end, it would enlarge the web of tightly held assets Fedala controlled, which wasn't large now, but would include nations such as Haven (SafeHaven2), Hailandkill, Zarbia and Stevid by the war's end. Fedor I, Turet Fíender and Jench Fersas would spearhead this expansion - first in Jagada and Kraven, and then throughout the rest of the world! And if one was to prove stubborn, one would have to be persuaded by the display of fireworks - violence was the all-persuasive force, after all. Perhaps the Knights of Pis-Sar would have something to do after all!

But for now this would follow the most conventional methods available, preferring civility over violence to gain things much faster if possible. Jagada should know that Fedor was a no-nonsense type of leader, and if Jagada's own leadership didn't recognized that... they would rather soon.

Fedala
"Yes, I'm Dav Rendér." Dav was slightly perplexed when the tall, burly man had asked him to confirm his identity in the restaurant. Dav's new girlfriend sat opposite of him, but she seemed to ignore the entire ordeal, obviously peturbed that their nice, quiet breakfast has been disturbed by this strange character. She took her fork and curiously poked at her pancakes and then looked at her boyfriend, who glanced at her back in a pleading stare. The other man, however, had no patience.

He reached into his inner coat pocket, and Dav slightly twitched, revealing a single page paper which was neatly folded. The man handed it over to Dav and said, "You will not mention my presence."

Dav was not a standard cloak and dagger individual. His business with IINSA, the national security agency of the Empire, had served him nothing but slow promotion as a desk jockey in the offices of Fedala. He had once gone to the colonies, but the war there had not lasted enough for him to be deployed in Jagada's colonies, offering him nothing for his time wasted learning the culture of the adversary. That was when he decided to retire from IINSA at the age of twenty-six and look for another job in the city, even if it meant lower wages and living in a smaller flat. He didn't mind. He looked at his girlfriend and said, "Sorry about that, I don't even know who that man is."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, saying, "Yea, this city is full of freakin' weirdos."

He chucked and opened the letter, replying, "Let's see what this guy has in store for us." His eyes swept over it and his face contorted into a frown. Shit. They wanted him back. It didn't say it, but he knew it was from IINSA. He looked at her again and said, "I'm not going to be able to go to dinner with tomorrow baby."

Neo-Jagada

It had begun. The massive, almost crushing task of dismantling the Imperial Palace. A sign of hope for Neo-Jagada, a sign of greed and immorality. Dark Lord York had vanished for the past month from the public eye, he had demoted his living space to a mansion in Eastern Neo-Jagada, the Capital City of the Dark Empire. Jobs had increased almost five fold as construction companies, one only minor shops, had to employ thousands upon thousands of workers to not only dismantle the Imperial Palace, but various other minors palaces throughout the country. Jagada only had four cities are the moment: Neo-Jagada, New Hope, Pax Topazia, and Inn, the later of those being the focusing point of Jagite Industries and wealth while the rest constituted the poor and impoverished peoples of Jagada. Though things were going well nonetheless. The economy was seeing a increase, already, as the tons of gold, silver, and other resources including marble, stone, and other such things that the Palaces had were being recycled back into the economy and businesses were already beginning to form. York's popularity had increased, but by no means had his power.

Undren sat in his own personal mansion, provided to him by York in compensation for his ownership of the Palace. Undren knew he didn't have a choice when York came to him about handing the Palace over to him, free of charge, if he declined York would have had him killed via the military. He was by no means pleased with York's current leadership. The Imperators had done so much for Jagada, had kept all the wealth, all the power in the State and has refused to let the people live comfortably--for it was living in comfort which spawned the War Against Norris, the Colonial War, and the withdrawl from Operation Hellfire. Undren hadn't opened up the letter from the man whom bumped into him in the Imperial Palace. He figured it was probably some threat to kill him, maybe a letter from York about executing him. He sighed as he picked the peice of paper up off the oak table and began to read it. He eyes widened as he continued to read. This letter was from Knights Imperia, a order of decendants of the Knights Templar, the very knights that he helped Lord Jagada establish a united Jagada. He continued to read, and was surprised by the bluntness of the letter. It basically told him to kill Dark Lord York, and once news had spread they would use their influence to keep the military in confusion and panic and this would allow him to the use the 'Eye' and execution most of the generals, officers, and extremely loyal enlisted men--then his rule would be solidfied. Undren was sweating by this point, and his stomach in in knots from nerviousness. He looked around to make sure no spies where hiding the darkness of the room or any cameras were installed in the room. He knew there wasn't, but he wasn't thinking clearly either. He walked over to the oak desk, instead of stretching towards it, and opened the top drawer--there sat his personal 9mm Automatic Pistol. He could easily get into York's mansion, he could probably bribe the guards to not search him. Money was scarce in Jagada, and they would take anything they could. Then it was only a matter of getting within a hundred yards of York--then his power was solidified.

Undren shook his head. He knew he'd never hit York, and he had heard the rumors that York was somehow immortal--he didn't want to take that risk of shooting York, him living, then he being executed. He would need someone else--some with nothing to loose to do the job for him. He would need York to be out in a public place. Observing the dismantling of the Palace maybe? Then it would simply be a matter of putting the 9mm in some elses hands, and having them take the risk. He had the 'Eye' on his side, he knew this much. York was a fool by all accounts. He had been a fool all his life. He was a foolish soldier, a foolish officer, a foolished general--and he was a foolish leader. Fools didn't live long in Jagada--York was unexpected by all accounts. Though Undren knew York probably wasn't as stupid as he let on, maybe he thought himself an intelligant man and that is what gave him the desire to stay in power, if only by the skin of his teeth.

Undren walked over to pick up his room phone, but stopped before touching it. York wasn't smart enough to put cameras in his room, but he was smart enough to have the phone tapped. Undren reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, metallic object called a Celular Phone in most countries, but they were rare in Jagada. He pressed a series of numbers, and placed the phone to his ear. After a few rings, he heard a phone being picked up, "This is the Banana Shop, can I help you?" asked a voice.

"Yes, I'd like some oranges," said Undren. The other side of the line was quiet for a few moments, "Yes Imperator Undren, how can the Eye help you?" asked the voice. Undren smirked internally, the 'Eye' was very loyal, more than he expected, since calling him Imperator was forbidden by York. "Get me Director Morrington, I want to meet him at the usual place. Understood?" The side of the line simply give a confirmation, then Undren hung up. Celular calls couldn't be tapped or traced by anything but the 'Eye' and he had a feeling York would never find out that he'd ever made a call.

[OOC: Mac, feel free to reply with your guys entering the country and such.]

Neo-Jagada

Former Imperator Undren stood adorned in his usual black armor under a freeway, there was no road going under it, so it was just tall grass. He'd come by foot, and he'd hoped the director also did, as cars weren't all that common in Jagada and would be regonized if they were just sitting under an underpass.

"Undren?" said a voice from afar.

"Yes," replied Undren into the darkness.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a man clad in a dark suit appeared. He was rather tall, standing at almost six feet five inches, a towering figure compared to Undren who barley stood six foot. He had red hair which had faded with his age to a orange color and very short. His blue eyes were didn't look like they belonged to him--probably because they didn't, he had his naturally brown eyes replaced with blue ones, from whom he got the blue ones no one knew. Nontheless, Undren kept an eye on the cold figure that stood like a giant before him, if only because the Director, a Morrington, had been accused by his closest friends and family as being a borderline psycopath.

"My lord, why have you summoned me?" said Morrington giving a slight bow.

"I was told the 'Eye' is still loyal to me," Undren said with a hint of nerviousness in his voice, "Is this true?"

"Yes, my lord, we see York has a traitor of our people. He lead up into Kraven's hands, he watched as we were exterminated. He didn't even try to evacuate the country," said Morrington with rage rising in his voice, "He has lead our brothers and sisters into Dominion and Jenrakian hands and now they hate us. Millions of our brethen slave away in unranium mines in Whyatica, and York humbly tells the Count he won't work towards their release. That he will be a puppet of the Count! Never!"

"I agree, York has always been a fool, and I suppose getting executed and dumped in the desert for ten years doesn't teach a fool how to and not to act," said Undren. He then caught himself and realized he'd basically told the Director that York may be immortal. His face showed his nerviousness.

"Don't worry, I've heard the same story," said Morrington, "But I won't sit under him. If he is immortal, than we shall find a way to kill the Immortal, no?"

"Agreed, what do you have in mind?" said Undren as he eyes seemed to scan the area. York wasn't smart, but he was smart enough to send people to spy on him. If only to appease he paranoia.

"We cannot use the 'Eye' as York probably as a few loyal in our ranks, and those few I think are in a position to figure out any plans we may have going on. So if we do anything we do it with the peons," said Morrington in disguist of having to speak that last word.

"There are plenty of desperate people here, Morrington, it wouldn't be hard to drive one to the breaking point and have him kill York."

"Yes! A perfect plan my lord. We drive one of these various peons into insanity and then have him kill the Dark Lord."

"I assume you can arrange it to where the 'Eye' will overlook our hard worker?" said Undren with a smirk on his face.

Morrington formed a smirk, but one that gave Undren a bad feeling and he only got that feeling around the extremely dangerous peoples, "Yes."

Neo-Jagada

Thomas Shiverspawn, normally just called Shiverspawn, sat in his ill lit office inside of York's tempoary headquarters, a large mansion on the east side of the city of Neo-Jagada. Shiverspawn flipped threw various books with countless numbers upon them, he constantly typed on his calculator and wrote various numbers down on various sheets of paper--the job of the Economic Minister of Jagada. It wasn't a well paying job, but at least he wasn't a bum out on the streets. He'd been one until Imperator Undren had noticed his abilities when he worked at a bank. The story behind it was simple, Undren wanted him to work for him, he refused, Undren had the troops burn the bank to the ground and forced him to work for the government. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb has numbers raced threw his mind. Jagada was in debt, and would probably remain that way for years, if not centuries. Jagada economic situtation for the individual wasn't any better. The average income of a Jagite used to be around thirty two to thirty three thousand. Now it was barley half of that, and dropping actually. It dropped because people were willing to work for less because if they didn't, then the unemployed would simply take the job for a lower wage. The unemployed in Jagada were the least skilled, those who had not redeeming qualities to their meager existance. The employed on the other hand was skills and trades, some worked with metal, other worked with finances, and others had skills in wood making. It went deeper than those three, but the point was clear in Jagite Society that those without any abilities found themselves bums, where in contrast bums in Old Jagada lived off a reasonable, if not unfair to the working class, paycheck from the government to keep them off the roads and from starving. That was the problem in Neo-Jagada, and the other cities in Jagada--the unemployed didn't get paychecks, thus they couldn't support their families. Mothers became single mothers, children became orphans as parents tried to leave the country--the whole situtation was sickening. York's plans to recycle marterials from the Imperial Palace, and various other regional palaces would give a boost in the economy. Though Jagada would never be the same. Guilds were already becoming an idea, and one widely accepted. Labour Unions were stamped out by the few companies that existed in Jagada, if not forced to disband because their own members quit in mass for various reasons--ranging from their bosses threatening to fire them and hire the unemployed, to their homes being attacked by mercanires of their bosses, to even death threats against them by the Guilds. Then again, this was the glory of Capitalism. Rule by the rich and well-born. Shiverspawn didn't mind, Communism and Socialism had no appeal to the average Jagite, and espically to him. Jagite Society was not like European, Oriental, African, or any other society. It was one driven and maintained by tradition, by the will of the individual, by God and Christianity, by unity and self betterment by spiritual, financial, physical, and material means. To believe or accept anything else means you weren't a Jagite. It was because of that universal feeling in Jagada, that allowed the people of new Jagada to come to terms with the fact that their brothers and sisters in the Dominion, Jenrak, and Whyatica were no long Jagites and that their well-being wasn't their concern anymore. He was inclined to agree, why help those who refused to forgive their own people, to come to their help when they to? All because they now live under some fake diety emperor, or some druggie emperor in some wasteland where cannibals are kings and the civility of men is a myth. Better that they die in some foreign land. He knew well about the meeting between York and the Count of the Dominion. He knew about the Jagites who lived in the Dominion, he wished them all the best living in a their homeland. For Old Jagada never was their homeland, being a Jagite was more than having citizenship, more than holding a name, or even having Jagite blood in your veins. Being a Jagite meant following Jagite tradition, Jagite customs, Jagite ways, and Jagites manners. Being a Jagite was spiritual, not just biological. Few outside of Jagada could understand how or why this was the case would dismiss it has mythological or werid. Jagites considered themselves a people to work for God's ways, they considered themselves the defender of His beliefs. Those who forsake God automatically stop being Jagite. Some may even venture to say that being a Jagite is harder than a Gentile being a Jew spiritually. He sighed, he'd let himself get worked up. He was angry, as so many other Jagites were. Jagada would rise, and it would rise stronger than it was before. For no matter how hard the World may try--it just never could rid itself of the Jagites.

Shiverspawn finally made the last calculation and the total was in red as always, save the deficiet of the State was a few million icons more. After writing his final conclusion in a space in a rather large book, he close it along with all the other books and placed them back into their proper places. He walked over to the window and noticed it was raining, grabbing his raincoat and hat he growled. Another walk home in the rain--just how he wanted the end the night. Has he opened the door to his office and began his path down stairs he could hear voices speaking to one another. As he began his decent down the final flight of stairs he came upon two figures. One was of coarse the secretary of the manison, a Ms. Victoria, the other was a dark armor clad figure of Former Imperator Undren. Ms. Victoria looked up at him as she held a phone to her ear, upon seeing him she put it down.

"Minister Shiverspawn, I was just calling you sir," she said before motioning towards Undren, "Field Marshall Undren would like to speak with you sir."

Shiverspawn caught one thing during that sentence, when Victoria said 'Field Marshall' it changed the expression on Undren's face to one of annoyance, if not anger. It was a subtle look, it would have probably been more obvious if York had the emotion, Undren was definately a much more cunning man than York. So, hes bitter, he thought. Though as Shiverspawn got closer, Undren's expression returned to normal and a smile came across his face.

"Minister Shiverspawn," said Undren extending his hand towards him. Shiverspawn complied and shook Undren's hand.

"Field Marhsall Undren," said Shiverspawn focusing on the first two words. Undrens face was stone cold, showing no expression, but his eyes flared with rage and dissent at the title which only a few months ago Shiverspawn wouldn't have dared to call him. It was a clear sign to him that Undren was boiling over the demotion, overing loose the power which he'd trained and worked to achieve, even going as far as killing his father to gain. He laughed inside, it was always good when the high and lofty got knocked down a peg.

"I noticed you don't have a car Minister," said Undren, now showing similar disrespect--by pointing on Shiverspawn's poverty when compared to the rest of the government which him being the economic minister was an irony. Though he gave facial or optical expressions which would present anger or rage--for he felt none. Poverty was a part of life, you did with what you had.

"Yes, Field Marshall, these days I find myself more craving for food and drink then petroleum and cars," said Shiverspawn, continueing to capitlize on that demotion of Undren's.

Undren's face showed anger once more, but not to the extent it did the first time. He noticed Undren loosen up physicall, a sign of him giving him. "Then may I suggest that you come over to my house tonight for dinner. My wife is making roman chicken, or so I'm told its called. Would you be interested?"

"While I'm not a man to be troublesome, I gladly accept your invition," said Shiverspawn, his voice icy and cold. He knew Undren was up to something, but to what was only known to the ex-Imperator.

---

After an uneventful and rather quiet drive threw the rainy streets of Neo-Jagada, crowded with various crumbling cardborad boxes, newspaper shacks, or empty trashcans with human contents sleeping in it--just a normal night in Jagada, the car of ex-Imperator Undren had found its way to a mansion, much larger than York's headquarters. It was the private residence of Undren. As it stopped, an army of servants came out to the porch, each having a specific task. One held the umbrella has Undren exited, another held it while Shiverspawn exited. One gave both men towels to whip the rain from their faces, one gave coffee to the men as they entered, and another took their coats. As they entered Undren kept quiet until the army of servants disbanded and melted into the various entrances of the room. He then motioned towards one the various leather seats. In the living room, which was ill-lit save for a rather large fire place which filed the room with smell of burning wood, and natural heat.

Shiverspawn took a seat, but kept and eye on Undren as he sat down and lit up his cigar, after biting part of it off. As he blew a cloud of smoke into the air he gave a pleased look on his smile. "Smoke up, Minister, these are imported cigars. A cannot remeber the country now, but I hear its poor and these are the only things keeping it above water," said Undren.

He chuckled, "Kind of like us and those oil tankers that Willink keeps sinking?"

Undren laughed a bit, "Exactly. Strange, is it not? That York, the self-styled Dark Lord hasn't done a single thing to stop Willink, refuses to change the trading path, and is basically allowing our oil tankers, our oil the on resource we have enough of to sell with the infastructure to sell it--be wasted on the uniferior Willikians."

Shiverspawn wasn't amused by the statement, true as it may be, "Infeiror? Is that why their civilization wasn't exterminated?"

Undren sat quiet for a moment, as if contemplating something, "Tell me, Minister, where you in Old Jagada or had relatives who lived there?"

Shiverspawn looked into the fireplace, memories of being but a boy one a frigate in the middle of some unknown ocean the misery, the pain, the hardships of living this new Jagada, "No, but my parents did, whats your point?"

Undren sent another cloud of smoke into the air, "My point is, do you want new Jagada to end up like that?"

Shiverspawn's eyes widened a bit at the riddle of that setence. Would Undren truly go so far as to spark civil war to reclaim his former title and power? Or was something more evil in the works? Was he a spy for the Dominion, Jenrak, or worse Kraven? About that time a servant, clad in black and white entered the room, "Master Undren, your wife wishes me to inform you and your guest that dinner is ready, sir."

Undren stood up quickly, "Thank you, tell her I shall arrive shortly." He then looked at Shiverspawn who still sat, "This way, Minister, we wouldn't want our food to grow cold would we."

Shiverspawn slowly got up and walked with Undren threw the winding halls of his mansion. He couldn't crack Undren's riddle, he couldn't crack Undren's personality, he never could and this was no different than any other time. Undren was a complex man, most people who tried to find their way threw his mind in conversation often met dead ends. Weather this meant his mind simply only went so far and stopped, as if he'd someone managed to wall part of his mind up, or if he had reached some enlightened state where no one could possible dig into his mind was unknown to anyone.

Eventually they reached the kitchen where the table was set with the nicest china and silverware in all of Jagada. The servants in the room with their heads bowed in submission as their master entered the room. On the table was silver pots and plates with food that looks like it had taken hours of pain to make. Sitting at the table already, towards the end, was a woman, rather tall with long brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a blue silk dress with her hands in her lap and her looking forward--a sign of dicipline. She looked about thirty, maybe older. Around the age of Undren actually. Sitting across from her on the dark wood table was another girl, much younger, maybe in her early twenties--around his own age actually. She had similar brown hair, but had blue eyes. Undren took his seat at the end of the table, and Shiverspawn took his place at the other end. The servant passed out the food. The four began to eat, as Shiverspawn noticed Undren didn't bless the food he did it for him. Politicans, and espically leaders of countries, usually found themselves above faith.

Undren noticed Shiverspawn's prayer and let him finish, and Shiverspawn knew he did, "Minister, what is your solution to the Willikian piracy?"

Shiverspawn lifted his head from his prayer, which he finished before answering, "I'm not sure, I'm not a politican. I just do the bills."

Undren gave a snicker before taking another bit of his chicken, and after swallowing it, "True. You did just handle the bills, you also live in poverty. You live in a tin shack in the worst part of time, and you salary is the worst in the central government. Why is that?"

Shiverspawn shrugged, "Curse from God maybe?"

Undren laughed, "Of coarse. Though I'm asking you why York feels compelled to give you a lower salary, yet he consults with you regarding affairs of the State. Your name is constantly mentioned in the meetings between he and I."

Shiverspawn took a bit of his food, and after swallowing and taking a drink of hte ice cold water in front of him he replied, "Not sure, maybe he doesn't like my attitude."

Undren smirked, "Maybe. If I recall, you had a higher salary under my rule, didn't you?"

"Five thousand dollars a year more, why?"

Undren then finished off his water, in which a servant promptly brought him another, "What I mean is, why do you stay in your position. Surely a bank could, and would hire you?"

"Maybe."

Undren moved in the for the kill, "You know, Minister, much can be done and little bloodshed can come when two minds agree upon any one thing and a transition to that thing is done."

Shiverspawn looked up at Undren, his face still icy cold and his eyes showing no emotion. Though his feelings were mixed, in a sense Undren had just asked him if he'd be willing to betray York. "How could such a transition be done between a tax collector and a general?"

Undren stopped eating, and so did Shiverspawn. This had just went from a tense dinner to a tense discusison. "Very simple, the tax collector need only pledge his loyalty to this particular general, then its a matter of plotting to ensure all goes well."

Shiverspawn was about to reply with a very kind 'no' when he heard something--metal clicking. Almost like a weapon or something. Shiverspawn knew there was someone standing not far behind him, and the clicking came from there. He looked ahead, nevering letting his face show his emotions. "Very well, lets assume for now on that this tax collector pledges his allegance to this particular general. Then we shall continue this story prehaps some other time?"

Undren nodded joyfully, "I'm glad you've heard the story yourself. The ending is suppose to anti-climatic unfortunely."

Inn, Jagada

The city of Inn, the industrial heartland of the nation was in engulfed in the flames of anger, the anger of a people long oppressed by a corperation in the name of prosperity. The people of Inn were rioting. They rioted not for equal rights, not for minimum wage, nor for more working hours. They rioted for the ideals of Karls Marx, which had found its way into the country by unknown means. This Marxist Riot, as the people called it, was a movement to force the local government, the mayor of Inn, to force Inn Industrial, the corporation that is, into compliance with their demands. Which included turning Inn into a socialist-type economy with limited benefit to shop owners, and increased benefits, both in terms of finances and medical benefits, to the Working Class. This riot started out with only a handful of people shouting insults at the corporation, though surprisingly the military nor the police moved in to drag them off as they had done in other cities--extremely unorthodox for a mayor of an industrial city. Due to a lack of surpression of the riot it grew into the hundreds and before anyone realized it, it was in the thousands. Now the riots threatened to turn ugly. The agitator, a Doctor Randolf, stood a top of a stack of boxes proclaiming what he'd been calling 'the True Gospel'.

"The foolish leadership of Inn, represented threw the appointed Mayor Gallo, proclaim, along with the so-called and so-proclaimed Dark Lord Franco York, that God is with us, and that because of this we must listen to this invisible God. I ask you, what has God done for us? He has delivered us into the hands of our enemies countless times, we've been exterminated three times in our history, twice by foreigners and once by ourselves. All this time we prolcaimed the name of this so-called God Almighty, and his son Jesus, who called himself God's Son, the Messiah of Humanity. I tell you now that WE, the average workers, are a collective Messiah. That we are the saviours of our people, our culture, and our rights. No fake God will come to deliver us! We must tear down these petty religious beliefs, and once they fall its only a matter of time before the capitalist pigs run out of excuses to control us. They proclaim, now that it is God's Will that they rule over our economy, our lives, and our futures so that they can help us! I ask you, how have they helped us? Besides of coarse killing leaders of the Trade Unions, surpressing the Guilds, and threatening to hire the less skilled if we, the skilled, don't work for lower wages! I say it is now time to announce, with triumph in our hearts, with our souls on fire: We will never be abused again! This day shall be known as the day Marxism liberated our nation from the corruption of Capitalism!"

The crowd cheered, danced, and shouted praises of Dr. Randolf. He laughed and smiled the whole time, holding a fisted hand into the air as a sign of revolution. He didn't lead the traditional Marxist revolution--no, for in other countries the unemployed would have rushed to him. Here they were beaten off the streets and into the alleys or away from the riot. This was a revolution for the skilled workers, to give them equal rights. The unemployed were seen, and it was very true, as sub-humans, the untalented, the unskilled, and the unintelligant. The outcasts of society that stood only to oppress the working man via establishment of a welfare state. Marx may have demanded equality for all--but then again Marx lived in a different time, under different circumstances. Randolf smirked, as glares from police officers who patroled the area, not interfereing but just keeping an eye felt like being in the crosshairs of a scoped rifle. He had his own plans for Inn once this revolution was successful--he would become the leader of Jagada's Industrial Heartland, then it was only a matter of time until the rights of the Skilled Class was forced on the rest of the land. Until the Corporations took notice that the skilled class would not longer supress them. No, he had no plans on taking over the nation for he had no interest in dealing with foreign leaders, he only wanted the power to help those who were skilled like him. The Guilds were fully behind him, and in fact it was guild members who started the riot, he waited until it grew to a few hundred people before jumping in and taking over as planned.

Though, about three hundred yards from Randolf was the Giovanni Bank--the bank established by Inn Industrial's owner, Arrigo Giovanni. The bank's security personel, which numbered quite a bit due to countless bank robbery attempts by the poor and unemployed. Stood outside of the building with sandbags built up in front of the building, and them in a position to level a chunk of the crowd with small arms fire. The Corporations were allowed by the Imperators to hold their own personal armies--small and had to pledge alligance to the Imperators, but they existed nontheless and were well armed thanks to Corporate funding. "Savages," said one of the security guards, though keeping his voice low as to not spark an attack. "Keep your cool, Ernesto," said Captain Phillip kneeling next to him with his sub-machine gun aimed at the rioting crowd who continued to lob insults at them. "Pigs!" shouted someone from the crowd, and suddenly a shot was fired. For a moment all was quiet until one of the security members behind the sand bang fell to the ground. Ernesto had covered his head by instinct he looked over to get orders from his captain, only to see him on the ground, a hole in his cheek. Ernesto looked shocked--civilians weren't allowed firearms. He growled as the crowd and seemingly the entire city stood quiet, as people tried to figure how what happened. "Return fire!" shouted Ernesto in a rage. Suddenly the sub-machines of the sandbag emplacement in front of the Giovanni Bank sent lead all over the area, seemingly in a chaotic rage for their fallen commander. Men, woman, and unfortunately children all were struck by these rapid firing weapons. Some people fled in horror and fear, in fact most of those in front of the bank did. Though when the security detail's sub-machine gun clips ran dry they stopped to see if anyone else was willing to try something that foolish again.

While some of the people fled down the streets, trampling officers who were trying to figure out the situtation, the other part of the angry Marxist mob began to shout death threats and challanges at the Security Detail. Suddenly one of the protesters ran towards the security detail, weilding a knife. Ernesto wasn't amused as he reloaded his weapon and fired a burst, sending the man down in a heap. This sparked something within the crowd, as they rushed in a mad dash towards the Security Detail. Being only thirty yards away, Ernesto realized his position, and since he was next in command he knew he had to protect the bank and most importantly, his men. "Retreat inside the bank!" he shouted before firing a burst, sending two more people down and then retreating inside of the bank, followed quickly by his men. The personel inside of the bank had already fallen to the floor during the first shot, and now lifted up their heads to see what was going on. The fact that the bank had windows that made up the structure of the front of the shop didn't help Ernesto's situtation. Forcing the bank personell to the back of the bank, and actually telling them to escape via the backdoor if possible, the security detail then flipped desks, chairs, tables, though just as they began to situate their rifles, the front of the building, the glass part, shattered as protesters had fallen back and allowed rocks, wood, or tools to shatter the glass. Ernesto smelled a rat--the protesters were too well organized, almost like they were being led by a man with some military experiance. Though as the protesters poured into the bank, they began to fall by the masses as they security detail fired frantically into the crowd. Though one by one, the secuirty detail's fortified desks, tables, and other defensive positions fell due to being massed by a crowd of people. Ernesto threw his sub-machine gun down and pulled out his 9mm and fired while running towards the back door. He slung the door open and in that same second he felt something similar to stone slam into his face--after that was darkness.

Violence had come once more to visit the Jagite People.