NationStates Jolt Archive

The orange glow of the sun settled over the motion of the sea. Waves motioning with the rustle of the wind, the horizon so flat that you can almost see the curvature of the planet off in the distance, as far as the eye can see. Nothing but a cool breeze and the slow motion out on the horizon.

"Arwia!" The sudden noise snapped her back to reality as her mother called to her from inside. "Yea?" she responded, looking down off the balcony at the dirt yard below, and then back out into the vast expanse. It was a sea alright, at least if you could ignore the small river not too far off to her left you could easily mistake the dry grass and flat plains as an ocean. "Is your homework done yet?" her mother once again called out and she had to force herself to think in the moment. "Yes mother, my homework is done." she yelled back into the open balcony door not too enthusiastically. "Good, then come have some dinner." Came back the reply, almost as if it was said before she had even responded. With a sigh she stepped inside, sliding the glass doors to the balcony closed behind her. She walked quickly through the house, her eyes quickly adjusting to the warm orange glow that was common here for night time lighting, walking right past the empty dining room as she made a quick pit stop off at her bedroom to put away her sunglasses and to wash her hands. A quick jump down the stairs and a jog across the dusty compound and she was there, the regimental mess. Perhaps, she thought to herself as she grabbed a plastic mess tray and made for the food line, perhaps others enjoyed a more subtle and less active meal at this time of day. Perhaps, as others often speculated about her, others had their food served to them while they sat. Not for her, not for as long as she could remember. She quickly made her way through the line, cheating with her small size compared to everyone else here to get in between people, and bounded down one of the isles with her mess tray held steady as she looked for her mother. Down at the other end of the hall as usual, but it was a quick trot and soon she had squeezed herself onto the bench next to her mother and was already enjoying her meal.

"So whens the big day?" One of the women sitting across from her asked, one of the family friends In fact everyone here was not just a family friend, but family. "Three months and nine days." Arwia responded without even looking up from her tray, the stringy noodles she was trying to get wrapped around her fork were not cooperating with her tonight. "So, you going to do it?" another one of the women sitting at her table asked. Now she looked up, smiling, "Give me those dates and I'll tell you." The whole table, herself and her mother included, broke into laughter at this. "Not even fourteen yet and already making demands like a pro?" Her mother said in a half joking, half mocking tone with a big smile on her face. "She takes after her mother." the first woman, an older woman, said with a bit of a chuckle. "Well?" the second woman chimed in, genuinely curious about the answer. Arwia just motioned with her fingers towards the small package of dates on the woman's tray as she chewed her noodles, and as the package came gently tossed over to her she grinned and made quickly to finish chewing. "Yep." She barely managed to say while both swallowing and inhaling at the same time, her quick response almost unconcerned as she downed a gulp of water and returned to stuffing her face with the noodles, she loved when they made noodles. "Well congratulations girl, we should hold you a party before the event!" the second woman responded, gently clapping her hands together as Arwia just smiled and continued eating. With the noodles and the lamb and bread and now two servings of her favorite dates she didn't have much more time for idle chit chat if she wanted to actually get out of there early enough. So instead she ate, and just smiled and nodded when she needed to while her mother and the other women had their conversations.

It didn't take as long for her to finish as she expected, the sun still hadn't completely set when she got out, just twilight, perfect. She had quickly rushed her tray to the collection and run back to her mother, still barely halfway through her dinner. "Going for a walk." Arwia said to her mother as she gave her a big hug. "Alright, but be back within four hours, I don't want to have to come looking for you tonight." her mother said, the serious nature of her message warmed by the smile she had on. "Will do, see ya'!" was Arwia's quick response and she was out. Back across the compound to the building with her room and she quickly changed into her 'working' clothes, as she called them. Just stuff that wouldn't get destroyed as she was out. She grabbed her things, flashlight, her watch and phone, and a small carbine from her closet. A quick check to make sure it was still clean and safe, and a bandoleer of three extra magazines plus one she pushed into the carbine now, and she was ready to go. A brief stop in the guard post at the gate to say hi to her friends and sign out, and she was out alone as the sun sank below the horizon and the stars started to come out. Just what she wanted. She took a brisk walk north into the open plains, not too far from home, but far enough to reach the dip in the terrain she wanted that would shield her eyes from any light coming from her home. The vast open plains defied the judgment of distance, as over an hour of quick walking she had just barely made it to her spot, and standing atop the tiny mound that counted as a ridge for her purposes, she could still clearly see her home in the distance. A long distance, but in the flat plains that meant nothing. She smiled, the sky was now pitch black, the moon was not out and it was a beautiful night sky. Far outside the city was where she loved to be for nights like this,, as she unpacked her bag and slung her carbine over her shoulder. She quickly pulled out a small telescope and set it up, taking a moment to take a peak at the starry sky through it before returning to her bag. The other major item, in an orange plastic protective case, was what she wanted. She placed the case on the ground and returned to the telescope, checking the sky again to see what she could recognize, and then opened the case. Something she had started trying to teach herself only a few years ago, and now she was going to test herself and see what she could do without the need for books. She looked up, found a star she was looking for, and raised the sextant from the box to her eye. It was an old device, in the time of GPS it was not something that was normally needed, but she found it all fascinating. She played with it for almost two hours, sighting familiar stars and checking her math to see if she was right, and then trying again with new stars and trying to determine how to use them to find out her location. She had been doing this for almost a year now, but this was the first time she deliberately did not bring her almanac or anything to write with, she wanted to prove to herself she could do this on her own. Time flew until the watch started beeping, the noise breaking the silence of the dark night as if it has been a jet engine, and it certainly startled her. Not so much the noise itself that startled her, but the implications. It was time to go back, and hopefully the noise of her watch had not attracted any unwelcome visitors to her location. She quickly packed up, enjoyed another look at the white-spotted sky, unslung her carbine and began the long walk back.

When she got back she packed her stuff back in her closet and changed into her bed clothes. A quick shower in between and she was off saying good night to her mother, herself preparing for bed. It had been a good day, but tomorrow she was back to getting up early as she had to go back into the city with her mother. If there was one thing that bothered her it was she moving. She didn't mind so much if it was every other week, but sometimes she'd be in a new place every day when her mother really had to travel. And the attention she got when she was out with her mother she didn't like either. That, she supposed, was what she gets for being born to the leader of the nation. And tomorrow she was again going to leave her favorite vacation spot, this ancient fortress built by her temple for their guard units. Out over six hundred kilometers west of Uruk, the national capital, in the middle of the dry hot grasslands that covered the country, besides a small river, she was enjoying herself in a four thousand year old fortress that her own great many generation's grandmother had helped build, and had lived in. Tomorrow morning she would get in a helicopter with her mother and be flown to Uruk though, to the great temple to Inanna, where she would meet the high priestess and declare her intentions to become a priestess, like her mother, her grandmother, and every woman in her family before her had done for thousands of years already. She knew she had a very tough four months ahead of her now, and no one could help her, not even her mother or friends who had all already done it. But soon, she hoped, she would be back out to where she loved to be, under the stars.

Well that wasn't so hard. Arwia thought to herself as she walked past shops and restaurants. She just finished her first meeting with the temple High Priestess, an elderly lady whom Arwia thought was probably over a hundred years old. She knew the reality, the woman was only in her eighties, but she still found it amazing every time she saw that woman get up and perform the dedication ritual. And the ease and experience which she talked certainly convinced Arwia of things she would not have thought before. That was why she was walking now, down a long street in the shade of various awnings above her, six kilometers to the national archives. It's not enough, the woman had told her, that you know why you are doing this, you need to know why others before you have done this. in regards to her decision to join the temple. She had never considered that, nor could she understand why she had to be able to explain why her ancestors had done the very thing she was doing. She didn't even know why her own mother did it, all she knew that the female children of every woman in her family, going back around three thousand years had done the very thing she was going to do. So she was now quite curious since the High Priestess had posed that to her, now she too wanted to know why her mother, her grandmother, and so on, had all done it, why had the tradition been kept alive by choice so throughly? Of course her first thought was just to ask her mother, until the Priestess said not to. You can't find out by asking your mother, she won't tell you. the priestess had said, as if she read Arwia's mind. Your mother had to figure it out for herself, as do you, as will your daughters, each one has to know why they are joining, and to know that they need to know why others did. It was with that sentence that the official meeting had ended, she had to find this stuff out herself, and the best place to start were the National Archives. Ten thousand years of detailed and recorded history at her fingertips, there was no better place to start. Before she had left the temple though the priestess had said one last thing to her, If you're not willing to work for it, you don't deserve it. in an almost encouraging tone. She wasn't exactly sure what was meant, but she figured part of it meant actual leg work. And so here she was, walking the six kilometers to her destination as the noon sun rose and temperatures were climbing. She didn't so much mind, the streets were fairly empty as most people took this exceptionally hot time of day as a time to relax and nap, but the three women who were following her, her personal guards while in the city, were not so enthusiastic. Even with the water they carried, the personal cooling system, and their training, a six kilometer hike in 50 degree weather in combat armour was not something they were enjoying.


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Sumerian National Press: Celebrity Gossip
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Lady Arwia to pledge
- Written: Degan Denkida

A spokeswoman for the Temple of Inanna confirmed today that Lady Arwia Ninatuma, daughter of current Dictator and priestess of Inanna's Temple, has petitioned to pledge her life to the temple and join the priestess hood like her mother. The move was not unexpected as Lady Arwia's family has been following this route for thousands of years. The spokeswoman for the Temple refused to comment on details regarding the young woman's choice or the timing of her ritual indoctrination, citing the grounds of "personal and spiritual privacy". Likewise after two freelance reporters entered the Temple in an attempt to gain commentary security has been increased by Inanna's Guard. Currently both the Temple and the Office of the Dictator appear to be very closed regarding the young Lady's actions, and are refusing both comment and access to the press. It is unclear yet whether this is only temporary for the Lady to gain herself in her new choices, or if something more full is intended in the future. We will keep you updated as it comes along.

tag

OOC: Sumer, do you just make up the cuneiform writing, transliterate english into cuneiform, or did you actually take the time to learn it? I've always wondered.

Colonel Natasha Krell looked up, surprised, at the knock on her door. Either she'd worked three hours without realising, or someone else was batty enough to be up and about at 0604h. A glance at the clock on her laptop quickly confirmed that it was the latter.

Still a little puzzled, she called out.

“Come in.”

Captain Lachlan, her adjutant, looking like a sack of proverbial walked in, and braced to attention. She waved his formalities aside, and motioned him to a chair, and he started speaking as he sat, two manoeuvers that he rarely used in conjunction. Something was most definitely up, although nothing more than the bizarre hour of his arrival was needed to confirm that particular snippet. She guessed it had something to do with the newspaper he had tucked under his left arm.

“Ma'am, have you read the paper this morning?”

Colonel Krell raised an eyebrow, which rose almost half an inch towards her light brown hairline.

“I slept very well, thank you Captain. There is a slightly cold edge to the breeze in these parts that makes me think nice thoughts about Port Finch. A pair of cats were fighting for what seemed like hours on the balcony of the Q-shed and wouldn't leave me be. I kept thinking the mewling nuisances would come crashing right through my window and into my quarters, but for all that, once I got to sleep, I slept quite soundly. You?”

The captain had the good grace to be sheepish, and not react overly to the very gently delivered reprimand, instead accepting it in the manner it was offered.

“Sorry, ma'am. I caught the headlines of yesterday's celebrity gossip pages - “

The colonel's left eyebrow joined her right in fully fledged surprise. If someone had asked her, not ten minutes earlier, if anyone on her base read gossip rags, then she would have answered with a very emphatic no. That it was a Lyran, and her own highly professional (usually) adjutant surprised her no end. Captain Lachlan caught the look, and hastily began to explain.

“Our briefing upon arriving in country was to find ways of immersing ourself in the local culture, to minimise the friction with the Sumerians. I thought that getting to known the national persons of interest may assist in the process.”

Krell surpressed a chuckle, and, with some difficulty, schooled her face back into impassivity. Captain Lachlan was an exceptionally promising officer, and it would be a shame to ruin his no doubt still fragile and untested confidence by pointing out that, unusual though his reading habits were by Lyran standards, she would not be writing a report on them.

“Very good, Captain. Fair enough. Go on then. What did you find?”

“This, ma'am.”

He placed the newspaper, which he unfolded, facing her on her desk. The headlines were fairly specific, given a basic understanding of local idioms, at least compared to the trashy sensationalist pseudo-factual garbage that came out of Fehnmar or Varessa.

Sumerian National Press: Celebrity Gossip

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v3...ressBanner.png
Lady Arwia to pledge
- Written: Degan Denkida

A spokeswoman for the Temple of Inanna confirmed today that Lady Arwia Ninatuma, daughter of current Dictator and priestess of Inanna's Temple, has petitioned to pledge her life to the temple and join the priestess hood like her mother. The move was not unexpected as Lady Arwia's family has been following this route for thousands of years...


Upon reading the rest of the article, a fairly brief process, given her very high reading speed, the colonel looked up at her adjutant. She thought she had an idea of what he was thinking, but she wanted to hear him say it. It could be a valuable lesson in international tact.

“No, I hadn't read it. What do you think of it?”

“Ma'am, if I may be blunt...”

Natasha kept her face neutral, but her exasperation at that most stupid of questions showed through in her eyes. The green began to edge to a more blue-grey shade, sure signs of frustration in those that knew her.
She was actually a strikingly attractive woman, as far as the Captain was concerned, and her eye colour contrasted very nicely with the tattoo of a rose on her left cheek, the stem of which ran down past her jawline and down the left side of her neck, before disappearing around to her back below her collar. It was a source of some speculation within Lyras as to where it went from there. Captain Lachlan nevertheless picked up the subtleties of her mood very quickly. Colonel Krell had extraordinarily little patience for subordinates that wouldn't tell her what they thought, regardless of how they thought she would receive the opinion. As far as she was concerned, if they thought she was making a mistake, or not taking the optimum course of action, she damn well wanted to hear it. His asking her if he may be blunt was, as far as she was concerned, a foolish waste of breath. He continued speaking, trying not to be phased, and for the most part succeeding.

“The girl is too young. How can we possibly condone such an action? It is tantamount to rape. Even the thought of what that old man will do... ma'am, does it not make your blood boil? You told me yourself, if I can get the phrasing right, that 'many evils hide behind 'culture' and 'tradition' that must nevertheless be exposed and excised as the damaging influences they are'. Would not this be a classic example of that?!”

Krell had half expected that answer, or something much like it. For all its advances in gender equality, the ideals of honour, integrity and defence of the weak, which Lyras espoused proudly, were so tied up with previous cultural notions of male chivalry that the distinction was at times difficult to ascertain. In a more purely chivalric sense, Captain Lachlan was concerned about Lady Arwia's honour, and was all but certain that she was being forced into this. By Lyran, Varessan, Pantocratorian or many other cultural analyses, she probably might have been. But the situation here was nevertheless very different, and, having met Lady Arwia a number of times, Krell was convinced that she was alert and mature enough to be fully aware of the import her decisions would have.

While the woman Natasha suppressed a shudder at the rites to which Arwia would subject herself, the officer that was Colonel Krell calculated and analysed the participants and factors involved in the situation.

“Captain, how old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Well known throughout Lyras for irrevence, impatience for the irrelevant and for no problem about being backwards in coming forwards, the Colonel's question still managed to get the Captain completely by surprise.

“Pardon, ma'am?”

A stall, and a poor one. Krell saw straight through it, and pushed, ignoring the younger officers discomfort. Well... if anyone asked she'd say that she was ignoring it. If she was completely honest with herself, she'd have to admit that she was enjoying it immensely.

“I'm sure you heard me fine, captain.”

Captain Lachlan indeed had heard her, but had hoped he hadn't. When he got this assignment, and his comrades and friends heard who he would be working with, the responses had been very mixed. Some had been effusive in their congratulations, almost falling over themselves in praise for the woman who had lead, while a lieutenant-colonel, the battered 8th (Wolfspiders) Mechanised Division to victory over no less than five Verenberg rebel divisions. A battalion commander at the time, she had assumed commander of first her brigade, then the division, as the situation had become worse. Her success had marked her as someone to watch not just within Lyras, but also abroad.

Others had been far less complimentary, and had pointed to her extremely unusual style. Her laissez faire attitude to her subordinates. Her complete disregard for convention. Her regular fraternisation across all ranks. And her complete and utter lack of tact when the urge to diplomacy left her.
Not one of those conversations, however, had even hinted at where the content of this particular conversation would go. Discussing the loss of his virginity with his commanding officer.

That was something he'd rather not do again, if he could help it. However, lacking any immediate recourse to refuse to question, Captain Lachlan answered.

“I was seventeen, ma'am.”

Krell raised her eyebrow. She knew full well that his file actually detailed seventeen, and that the captain could have declined to answer. She would not have held it against him had he answered as such, but she appreciated, and would not forget, the credit that he paid to her by answering the question honestly, given the context.

“Thank you, captain, for your frank response. Given that you are willing to refer to the incident in question, I'll put the following to you.”

She paused, and pondered how to phrase a very delicate question.

“Captain, I would put to you that the loss of your virginity, while certainly a memorable event for you, would not doubt have been an event that proceeded largely unplanned, perhaps involved a little too much alcohol, and gained you nothing bar an all-too-brief moment of satisfaction and perhaps the fleeting thought that you were now a man.”

Lachlan winced, and nodded his assent. He could see exactly were the woman was taking this argument, and had to admit that the thought had occurred to him. He pushed on, knowing that the colonel would take his silence as to the question as the admission that it was. He'd rather not have said it anyway. It sounded too much like regret, something Lyran culture frowned upon greatly as a tremendous waste of emotional and intellectual energy.

“I see where you are going with that, ma'am, but Lady Arwia is 13. She is still a child, surely?”

“How old were you when you first went into combat, Captain?”

Lachlan winced again. The woman knew his file inside and out. She just wanted him to admit it.

“14.”

“Were you too young?”

The captain's eyes, hitherto wandering around the room, snapped into focus on the colonel, catching her gaze and holding it, anger brewing up.

“Ma'am, 14 is the age at which all Lyran trainee personnel are despatched to combatant units to for experience under combat situations. Do you mean to imply that I was not suitable, ma'am?”

Had she done so, it would have been a greivous insult. One almost deserving of a call to a duel or trial by combat. Such things were rare outside of Lyras itself, but not unheard of, and the Colonel had now pushed the bounds of propriety an awfully long way.

“Lady Arwia will be 14 as well, captain, when she undertakes her rites of ascension. Are you implying that she is unsuitable.”

The anger fled from the captain's eyes and, noticing that, Natasha hammered home the point.

“Your concern is warranted, on a number of levels. Culture can be a difficult barrier to break, and sometimes break it we must. We threatened Strator with annihilation, and forced them to change, for example. My questioning your suitability would be received as a tremendous insult, yet you, by way of Sumerian culture, equally insult the Temple, the Office of the Dictator, who as you are no doubt aware is her mother, and Lady Arwia herself. She, were she to hear your doubts, would, by our culture, be able, and willing, to challenge you on that.”

She paused for breath, then went on.

“Most of us squander our bodies remarkably easily. We get caught up in the heat of the moment, our hormones driving higher brain functions from our heads in a welter of chemical reactions and youthful enthusiasm. We engage in relationships that are short at best, trivial or non-existant at worst, and throw away what some cultures would term our innocence of the altar of frivolity.”

Lachlan listened intently, a side of his commander he had neither encountered nor been told of showing itself. He couldn't help but feel a little honoured.

“What Lady Arwia is doing is a conscious, calculated decision, based on an awful lot of research, and after a lifetime of thought, questioning and calculation not only by her, but on her behalf by a rather large retinue of people who have her best interests under consideration, at the very least.”

All of a sudden, Natasha Krell didn't want to talk about it any more. The thought of losing the tentative, tenuous friendship she shared with the sweet, bubbly and intelligent girl that was the topic of discussion, was a remarkably painful one.

“She is getting to choose, Captain. She is getting to choose, and making something out of that choice. Something neither you nor I had the foresight to do.”

She stopped talking, and Captain Lachlan took that as his dismissal. He withdrew, nodding curtly, and left her to her thoughts, tumultuous though they now were.

Arwia was about to go through what would be a very trying few months. The anticipation, the near-dread, would eat away at her, of that Natasha had little doubt. Arwia would be brave. Would prepare, such as she could, and would think of things... anythings, except the ritual itself. Probably doctrine. Or history, or culture, or something like that. All the reasons why the ritual was important.

Natasha remembered similar thoughts. About why resistance was important. About why refusing to break was important. About the lives that would be changed for the better, about the people who would never know to thank her, and about the honour that she held so high that bound her with chains of duty stronger even than the chains that had held her to the wall of that dark, cold room.

Krell cleared her head. Arwia's situation was nothing like that. Such thoughts were false, such comparisons empty. Her own traumatic past colouring, tainting her perceptions of the possibilities of Arwia's future.
Arwia would be fine.

But Natasha still hoped that Arwia would feel able to ask for advice, or thoughts. Krell would have bet a month of workcredits that there would be some questions in the girls mind about duty, honour, courage and determination. If nothing else, who better to ask that of than a Lyran...
Natasha chuckled. She admitted it to herself. She just wanted to see Arwia again.

What would her father think?



OOC: Hope the above was not too presumptuous of me.

OOC: I REALLY should be writing this paper instead of this, but oh well.

IC:
The usually quiet day was broken quite suddenly by the rapped sound of her knuckles against the open cedar door as Arwia walked in. "Have you seen my mother around anywhere?" she asked the elderly woman sitting behind the desk in a more casual tone then many normally use. Panchito Guanikeyu, the woman behind the desk, had been in the government in various jobs for over half a century now and was very near the age which she would return home and relax for her final years. The texture and tone of her skin betrayed her ethnic status, she was not Sumerian, but Arwia knew well who she was and where she was from. The Taino, who had joined the nation centuries ago, were somewhat common, even in the remotest of areas, and her command of emegir, the Sumerian language, certainly showed that she had been in Uruk far too long. Panchito simply looked at the young girl then looked at a paper on the side of her desk. In her capacity of Officer of External Relations she doubled as, what many foreigners would call, 'vice dictator', in that she kept track of what was going on much the same as the Dictator herself.

"Right now she is in a meeting with the Sheik who represents the Aruadingir temples of the south-western regions. I don't think she can be disturbed." Panchito simply stated, knowing full well the girl would probably disturb her anyway.

Aruadingir? She thought to herself, unable to place it. She knew the meaning, 'desert god', it was easily common Sumerian, but she couldn't place the name, perhaps Taino slang translated over? "I'm sorry, but I don't know which temple that is, is there another more common name?" She asked, a little embarrassed that she didn't know.

"No," the old woman started, thinking carefully how to explain it to the young girl. She knew her exposure to the different parts of the nation was not too comprehensive, she was young after all, but minorities are still minorities and it would be hard to introduce such a hard concept to this young girl. "They are the people who lived in the south-western regions before we expanded there, Aruadingir is what we call their god, they are not part of our system." She was a little uncomfortable saying that last part, when she was that age it was not a single system, the temple unification between the Sumerian temples and the Taino tribes only happened in the last half century, long enough for her to remember before, and for this young girl to have never known anything else.

"Well, is she mediating between them and the temples for them to join?" Arwia asked, now curious and confused.

"No they only believe in one god, and do not agree with the temples. I don't think I'm qualified to explain this to you." Panchito replied, trying to end that trail of the conversation. Indeed she was not qualified, that was the extent of her information at hand on the subject.

"Oh," Arwia almost whispered before talking again, "Well, if you're going to see my mother later can you tell her I've gone out traveling north and I have Puabi and Are with me so not to worry, I'll be back later this week?"

"Sure." Was all Panchito could get out before Arwia turned out the door and left, seeming a little excited about her trip. She simply returned to her work.

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Arwia jogged down the halls of the main building rather quickly. If anyone else had been in the halls at this time she might have run into them, physically, but she was lucky today. The opposing force training headquarters, the three small buildings which housed the administrative aspects of the units whose responsibility was learning and using foreign equipment and tactics to train Sumerian troops, was relatively quiet today. She thought most people were out in the field, they rarely came around unless there was work to be done here. Except here she must be. Her two closest friends, Are and Puabi, both almost a decade older then Arwia and members of her mother's home unit, were there. They had secured seven day armed passes to go with Arwia as her escorts while she did some research, and she was excited. She came to a halt in front of an open door, and walked in. "Ready to go yet?" Arwia asked the two occupants of the room, her friends, quite excitedly.

"Almost, hold on." Are answered, stuffing papers into carefully selected folders. The two of them had secured their passes by agreeing to bring the units training data hard copies to the opposing forces archives and file them, a task no one enjoyed doing. "We're going to be another ten or fifteen minutes." Are said, looking up. "Sorry gal."

"No problem, I'll take a look around." Arwia just smiled and walked back out the door to go explore. She was always fascinated by exploring government and military buildings, especially when she was younger. She had the access to go almost anywhere, and yet it was almost off limits to her where she went. Quite the adventure. "Don't break anything!" she heard called after her as she walked the halls. She was a curious person, and she looked around trying to find people. It seemed as if almost no one was here except for the gate guards and some administrative officers in the other buildings. She poked around, checking doors to see what was locked, they all were. That was, until she found one that wasn't unlocked. So naturally she went in. Inside the small room she came across a familiar, albeit foreign, face. "Natasha! what are you doing here?"

Prussian Embassy, Sumer

Major Murray nodded to himself as he looked into the old and dusty mirror that occupied a good part of his room. He had just recently been assigned to Embassy Security in the past few months. After the war in NPC he had been assigned on some training bases, and had taught the Marines complex combat operations and room clearing. After his promotion to major, he had asked for embassy duty in the hopes of seeing foreign cultures at work, plus his friends had told him it was easy and came with better pay. He was indeed earning four hundred bucks extra a month, which he needed as he was saving up for a flat back in the Reich.

Of course, there was another reason why he was not in a combat unit, and that's because the war in NPC had left him with PTSD, the Marines gave him consulleing and pills so Murray was doing better, but he was still not ready for a combat unit yet. Nightmares still occurred regularly, he could see the enemy troops bloodied and dead, faces split wide open and stomachs with protruding organs. Rifle snapping up to his shoulder, Murray watched himself over and over again as he shot his first kill of the war. Alas, he tried his best not to think of it during his waking hours.

Murray was responsible for around forty actual Marines that were dedicated to security, as well he was commander of the Diplomatic Corps Security Unit that provided security to Sumerian diplomats as well as their own ambassador. It was a pressing job to keep the Marines busy with things, thus constant training regimes had to be deployed, and more Marines were rotated within a few months. Sumerian's were strict with certain aspects of the society, so the Reich wanted to make sure they didn't upset their prospective future allies. Today however Murray was leaving these training ops to the NCO's as he had other plans. Coming with him was his adjutant, Third Lieutenant Hans, fresh from the Academy, this was his first deployment. " A sucky one at that. Nothing to do here, really. Alas, Murray had found that Lyrans were here giving OPFOR instruction, and he hoped to visit some very close allies of the Reich. Murray's Uncle actually worked for Krupp, which had helped design the North Point armor for the Wolfhound, he had seen it in action in the labs. Finally, the Marines were wearing the new BDU's bought from Lyras.

They would stop over at Colonel Krell's apartment for lunch, and then possibly they would arrange for the Marines to take part in OPFOR exercises, it would be much more exciting than the current dull drills. The two men proceeded into the garage where they would be taking a VAM armored car into the city, and they also took two AIRV carbines and pistols with them, you never knew what could happen. The situation with Sumer was tense and complex, indeed. The drive was twenty minutes, and Hans, being young as he was, took this time to ask questions about the ops in NPC.
" So, sir, what was your job there?"

" I commanded a Marine infantry company, we landed originally in the city via helo assualt. It was crazy since we were the first wave. There was AAA fire everywhere, you could see the tracers coming very close to the helo. We landed in a square. Resistance was light at first. It got worse as the days went on."
" Did you fight the Trivs?" Hans was no keenly interested, and he actually had to serve slight to avoid an incoming car.
" Watch the road. Yes, I did, not until later. Originally it was the NPC units only. They fought bravely but were ill-equipped and trained. At one point my company was the tip of the left flank, we were moving in a field. We came under heavy RPG and mortar attacks. Around one hundred charged us, we fired at them, and then the Geckos came in..." Murray's voice trailed off as he imagined the scene and devastation. Corpses were littered everywhere, twisted bodies, broken bones, pools of blood. It was disgusting and repulsive Murray shuddered at the thought.
" And then what, sir?"
" That's for another time, Hans, look, we are here." The two Marines parked nearby, leaving the rifles in the vehicle and only brining sidearms. They then knocked at the door, and waited patiently.

The Lyran colonel was down on her left knee, her left hand fingering the foot-long combat knife that was sheathed in the scabbard on the outside of a mid-calf length, high-heeled boot. Her face was furrowed in concentration as she scrutinised the spines of files arranged neatly on a set of shelves.
Startled at Arwia's voice, Krell looked quickly to her left, her right hand's jerk towards her right thigh, the customary location of her sidearm, belying the extent of her surprise. The tension left her features almost as soon as they had arrived, and her tattooed face broke into a welcoming smile.
“Arwia... I could certainly ask the same question, although I think I probably know the answer. I am looking through your archives, trying to dig up the old training proformas. There are an awful lot of things that you Sumerian types do very well... but I would hazard a guess and say that there are probably a whole bunch that you do not do half as effectively, or at all. I have been here for a while, checking to see if I can find some documents, and, because I cannot, I rather think that my guess was right. Come and look at this...”

Krell indicated the files she was looking at.

“These files go back years. Decades in these folders alone... Look at the titles...”

Another waved hand, this time the left, pointing at a spot nearly a metre to that direction.
“Armoured warfare doctrine, anti-armour doctrine, infantry-armour combined operations, mechanised counter-mobility... and over here...”

Staying low, Natasha leant over to her right, pointing out closer to the corner of the room.

“More of the same. Another armoured warfare doctrine folder, and, ooooh, look, this sounds rivetting, 'Employment of anti-armour assets, squad and platoon level, courses 41-50'. And over here... 'Mobile air defence systems, asset protection and utilisation doctrine'. That one sounds like a page-turner.”

She stood up, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her black uniform skirt. Her L45 rested in a thigh-holster, and she tugged at it absent-mindely through the slit, which ran from where the skirt began three inches above her knee, to just below her hip. She cocked her head to the right, before she began speaking again.

“You know what is conspicuous by its absence? Combat training for situations that do not have friendly or hostile armoured units. I know that the Dictatorial Republic is famous for its use of tanks but, you know, sometimes I think you take it a bit too far.”

Krell laughed at her wording.

“Here I am, telling you what I think about the way the national military is trained. Ha. As if it is your fault either way. Sorry. I have lunch today with Major Murray from The People's Freedom, and I intend to run this hunch past him. See what he says.”

Krell stopped, and turned to face Arwia, curiosity etched on the Lyran's features.

“But, come on, spill. What brings you to our piece of the world? Does it have, by any chance, anything to do with an article I read in the paper, not long ago?”

OOC: One post a week I will force myself to, minimum. Likely more.

IC:

Arwia laughed, taking note of what Krell was missing. "These are just OPFOR records, they only go back maybe eighty years and only cover armoured force cooperation, the Airborn School out by, Shusa I think, should have more infantry-centric records. The Naval Infantry School in I think Dorado should also have more. But if you really want..." Arwia smiled, a nasty thought coming accross her face, she always loved how foreigners found the absolutely vast ammount of recorded history avalible in Sumer to be simply mind blowing, "... there's always the National Military Archives in Nineveh, they go back at least eight thousand years."

Arwia laughed again a moment as she considered what she said. "There's too much information in this country alone to learn it all in even a lifetime. Let alone from the rest of the world."

She took a moment, scratching the small of her back idly. "I'm waiting for friends to finish up their work here before we head off. I want to go see the memorial to Arwia Tabni, I got my name from her. You want to come?" She smiled and asked.

Natasha nodded.

“I would be delighted to. As it so happens, said lunch with Major Murray is not until 1300, so I have a good four hours. I am curious about the memorial, and the culture that it symbolises. And what it memorialises, to be frank.”

She pondered what Arwia had said, both about the records and their tremendous quantity, and also about Sumerian Infantry Doctrine.

“How long do you expect your friends will be?”

Arwia took a look back down the hall for a moment then popped back in. "I'm not sure, I hope very soon, I want to get going." She then smiled, thinking what Natasha said, "Although I should warn you, I'm going about eight hundred kilometers north. Not really a four hour trip. If you want just come up to Kish, ask one of the tourist help places for the Ninuru Engara monument, they should tell you."

Natasha giggled. It was an unusual thing for the Lyran colonel, or indeed any Lyran to do, but giggle she did.

"No, no, I guess it is not a four-hour trip, is it. But I do want to go, and I have been hoping to speak to you, say hi, for a while now. I will call Major Murray, and let him know. All this..."

She gestured at the mountains of documentation. Sumerians were prolific record keepers by inclination, and their extremely long recorded history was, to any non-Sumerian, breathtaking. In some ways a historian's dream... in others, a nightmare.

"... can wait. Talk to me, girl. What have you been up to?"

"Reading.." Arwia responded, an almost serious look on her face, lasting only a moment, "Too much reading!" she said with a laugh, leaning against the door frame. "I guess we're both stuck in the same boat, too much to read. At least you have interesting reports to read, I'm stuck with personal history and myth." She said that last part with another little giggle attached. The sound of a door closing brought Arwia into leaning back from the door, holding herself with both hands on the frame as she looked down the hall. "Ohh, looks like they're done. Wanna come?" She asked smiling.

Natasha nodded twice, trying and not quite succeeding to conceal her very strong urge to stop looking through dry reports on the more esoteric aspects of past Sumerian military doctrine.

"Hun, I would be thrilled to get out of here. Just, whatever you do, do not let on to everyone else just how keen I am. It would ruin my image. I am supposed to be 'the Lyran'. Heaven forbid that a Lyran actually want to stretch her legs."

Krell frowned.

"Maybe I have been outside Lyras too long. Seems you Sumerian people might have started to rub off on me after all..."

Arwia laughed a moment, backing out of the room. "You won't be saying that after you've spent a day outside in the middle of the country. You'll want to be in here with the air conditioning soon enough. Anyway, I've got to go grab my stuff before I head off, you can come with, or meet me.." Arwia paused a moment thinking a suitable place she knew Natacha would know, then laughed. "At the National Archives, if you like."

Natasha smirked. She distinctly recalled how she had felt first stepping off the plane to Sumer during the wet season. The heat and humidity had been like a physical blow, especially compared to the cool-temperate climate of Vandaheim, where she had last been stationed. She knew well the utility of the effective Sumerian air conditioning systems.

"I think I will join you. I have had enough of this place. I am going to be stuck here for the next couple of months anyway. I'm looking forward to the next rotation through the OPFOR, so I can get out field again. I love your history... but not this kind..." she waved a hand at the archive shelves.

"Tell me about the National Archives."

Arwia laughed a moment, always a smile on her face as she thought how to explain it. "What's the oldest book you've ever read?" She asked, not expecting an answer and continuing to talk anyway. "Most foreigners, as I understand, find books and documents a few hundred years old to be ancient and something to be treasured. We treasure our entire history, but a few hundred years is nothing. The National Archives holds our entire history, easily accessable through the national computer network to anyone who wants to. The number of documnts avalible is so large it gives me a headache just thinking about it, and the oldest one in the collection is a sale agreement almost eleven thousand years old." She paused a moment to let that take effect before she stood up straight, not leaning on the door anymore. "This," she waved her hand towards the file cabinets in the room, "This is nothing, just a hundred years. The National Archives keeps a record of our entire nation, going back over ten thousand years, back before the Dictorial Republic when we were still cities ruled by despots, back when we were the only civilization on Earth, before Lyras or any other. If it was ever written down, it is in the Archives. You can find the name of a pesant man who served under Lugalzagesi in 6140 against the Akkadian invasion, even though today no one of that man's bloodline may still be alive. You can find a building deed for this very piece of land we stand on from over eight thousand years ago, or the notes of a young scribe my age learning to write ten thousand years ago. The Arcives is something we pride ourselves, as a nation on, it is not only our history but the history of civilization." She stopped, the smile still on her lips, but an almost serious look in her eyes. It was true, Sumerians of all ages took great pride in their history, she was no exception, and she was glad to be able to tell that to a foreigner, someone who may not even be able to see their own nation beyond a few generations.

Krell was thoughtful at this, and pondered as she began to follow Arwia out.

"It would not be especially hard to predate Lyras, at least as an entity. While traces of what would become Lyras go back an awfully long way, Lyras itself is a relatively new state."

She chuckled.

"Well, at least compared to Sumer. We have three hundred years as a national entity. Our culture, as it is now, is the result of that. It has been a tumultuous time. To be able to draw consistent, linear history that far back..."

The Lyran colonel looked whimsical, as she absent-mindedly ran her fingers through her hair.

"To be able to look back on Lyras, from thousands of years hence... what we could learn."

She glanced at Arwia.

"What you of Sumer DO learn, and know, of yourselves, and of human nature. I, and doubtlessly others in Lyras, are envious of that which you possess."

Arwia looked up to the Colonel a moment, pondering how to respond. "What we know of ourselves..." she began before pausing a moment, trying to put into words the concepts she was taught as a young child. She knew history defined a nation, it defined the future of a people, but there was something more, never explicitly said, that she was trying to put into words. "Well... History is not just knowing facts of the past." She paused again a moment, wetting her lips before continuing. "As a nation we can only define our current state and potential future by what we are willing to know about our own past. We value it, the good, the bad, the meaningless, because to us it defines us. In a thousand years Lyran people will look back through your national archives and know only what people in power wanted to keep over that thousand years. In a thousand years Sumerians will be able to look back and find everything recorded, just because it was recorded. The vast ammount of information means we repeat our mistakes, but it also means that no era in Sumerian history since the founding of the Dictorial Republic has had to deal with corruption of information. No politition can manipulate history for his own will on any scale, because everyone has access to the records. But at the same time, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past simply because there is too much information. To quote Ninuru Engara following the Europa war, 'If there is anything we have learned about ourselves, it is that we will never be perfect, that we will never learn from every mistake and that no matter how long we exist, we will repeat everything we do.'" Arwia paused a moment, considering what she had just said before continuing on. "Basicly I think she meant that we have learned that people, nations especially, repeat their own history no matter what they do." It made sense to her, she thought, she hoped it made sense to Natasha. It was only a short walk before they reached the door, and Arwia bid Natasha farewell, meeting shortly at the National Archives. She climbed into the tan T-6 truck waiting for her outside and headed off to the Dictator's residence in the heart of the city, the exact opposite way Natasha would have to go to get to the Archives, to gather her belongings for the trip, waving out the window as she was driven off.