NationStates Jolt Archive

New Christendom,
Capital City

'You've got to be fucking kidding me!' exclaimed Trantor Equidos. He spoke not just out of line, but out of character for himself. Though the words he'd just heard demanded, nay, justified his reaction.

'No joke Trantor,' she said quietly, looking at him with the most stern look she'd given in years. Her shoulder length black hair shinning from the florescent lights in the room.

'You're betraying us!' he said again. Slamming his fist into his hand.

'Consider it what you will, but don't try to think you're going to stop me,' she said looking at his gesture in a defensive manner. Trantor was prone to outburst, probably a side effect of his military life.

He turned his back on her his royal blue military uniformed, weighted by a dozen medals. He murmured some damnation or another, but she wasn't listening.

'I came to tell you first since ... since you'll be the most effected by the this decision,' she said. She knew it wasn't just the fact that the High Minister of an unstable democracy was suddenly resigning, giving no reccomendation for an successor and flying quickly to a country that they were recently at war with. It was the relationship that they'd shared prior to her leaving, that had died somewhere in between the plane's leaving and returning. Trantor was her most trusted advisor, yes, but he was always her secret lover. A man she thought she'd spend the rest of her life with once she'd left office. Those dreams no longer were concievable.

'I love you Riyabou ... why do this to me now?' he said, his words slightly marred by the lump that'd formed in his throat.

She looked around, even though he wasn't looking at her, her heart felt ashamed of the pain she'd obviously caused him. And while it wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, their intimate relationship allowed he to see behind the mask he'd formed. She did love him ... somewhere, but it wasn't the same. She could never spend the rest of her life with him.

'I'm sorry,' she said trailing off. She quickly composed herself, and fought back the tears that seemed to be creeping from within. If she cried now she wouldn't leave and she'd damn herself forever if she stayed. 'In the Omega Box I left you my last instructions of office. Please follow them to the letter ... if only due to the honor of your office.'

With that she didn't say another word, grabbed the last of her things and marched out of the office. Beyond the door, two soldiers in royal blue coats waited to escort her to her private limo. Trantor turned to say something, his mouth open and moving to form words -- but no sound. He pride, his God DAMNED pride wouldn't allow him. Thus, as the wooden door closed, so closed his last chance for happiness. With a silent curse he damned her to the recesses of his mind. To haunt him until the last of his days. If only he knew ... if only he knew.

---

'She did what!' screamed Intios Rathor, his salt and pepper hair seeming to raise like that of a cat at the news given to him.

'The plane left two hours ago, bound for Hailandkill. That was all she left behind,' stated Trantor, sliding the paper, with Riyabou's signature towards the Congressional Speaker.

He glanced the paper up and down, and even though he was naturally a pale man, he seemed to become almost ghost-like. He leaned back in his chair. 'God damn her, the least she could have done is gave a going away speech,' he clammered on, 'I mean fuck, at least a "Hey bitches, I'm out of here"'

Trantor grimmaced at the Congressional Speaker, he was always a very up tight and formal made when in front of a camera and before the Senate. Though in private and with only a few select he allowed his true colors to show. Trantor wasn't actually apart of that few select but the circumstances forced the Speaker to let down his barriers. Thats not to say that Trantor's rank didn't grant him rumors about this behaviour before hand. It didn't make it any easier to bear. He couldn't exactly get angry, Riyabou had damned him just as much as she'd damned Intios. His love for her, however, forced him to hold his tongue.

Intios looked through the resignation letter once more and sighed, 'What are we going to do?'

He wasn't actually talking to Trantor, but the Minister of Defense spoke anyway, 'It seems only logical that we call for new elections.'

The look that Trantor got from the Congressional Speaker was one that he'd rather not get again. His salt and pepper hair bristled once again, as if he began to churn the idea in his head and was not pleased with the results.

Finally, Trantor assumed, his angry was simply too much to hold in, 'What the fuck are you talking about? Elections! We'd be removed from power immediately. Hell, a begger would win over us.'

Trantor's military career had only gained him so much knowledge of how the military aristocracy worked and only a few glimpes of the political one. 'How do you figure?'

Intios sighed, 'Riyabou was a rogue from the start. She only won the damned election over the Constitional's because of the scandal they got themselves involved in.'

Trantor raised an eyebrow, 'But the pre-elections polls -'

'Were just a fake, fabricated by us to make sure she looked good. You think a country full of wife beaters is going to elect a woman?'

While the notion that Jagada was full of wife beaters took Trantor back -- he'd never been raised that way. The fact of the matter struck such a brass contrast that he kicked himself for not noticing it from the start. Riyabou's rise to power was almost magical, full of plot twists. A drama which at the time appeared divinly ordained, but now seemed like a shewd political machination. God help this country he damned so long ago, thought Trantor.

'Then what are you going to do?'

'I'm not doing a thing ... except bringing this before the Congress. As I suppose is my right since Haxtes is missing,' said Intios. Haxtes Dranor, the High Executive, second in the chain to claim power had disappeared just a week after Riyabou returned from Hailandkill and news of it never leaked out, somehow, to the media. Most of the government simply assumed he'd either abandoned his post, committed suicide in some distant vacation spot, or left the country altogether. Riyabou didn't seem very interested in the matter. At the time Trantor thought that odd, but with he defection it seemed all the more normal.

'Very well. I'll be in Pax Topazia for the rest of the week. A new regiment is being formed and I try to make sure I'm always present when new meat is brought in,' said Trantor. He turned to leave.

'Battle Master' said Intios. Trantor stopped and turned slightly, but only slightly, 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

---

' ... it is with a sadness of uncomparablility that I am forced to come before you today gentlemen, in this private meeting of us esteemed Congressmen to inform you that our High Minister ... has regretfully resigned her post.'

Immediately an uproar filled the chamber, which lasted for nearly ten minutes before Intios manged to restore calm by slamming his gavel several times. The sound pounded in Atellus' head like shotgun going off repeatedly. He'd had some unnatural hearing and sharp, loud sounds penetrated all layers of his focus and caused great pain. Over the years he'd managed to deal with it. Hell, every other week there was a riot somewhere in Jagada, a small revolt in some city. Always there were piercing, loud sounds. If he didn't grow use to them, he'd have moved somewhere quieter. Like hell.

' ... absolutely ridiculous! I demand that she be brought before us to answer for this!' exclaimed a Congressmen across the room, his voice thickly accented. He was from Inn.

'I apologize Congressmen, but the former High Minister boarded a plane yesterday and as since sent no word back,' replied Intios, in formal, calm voice. It much betrayed him thought Atellus.

'A plane? Where as she gone, on some damn vacation?' cried a Congressmen, Atellus regonized him as being a representative from the Moslem dominated southeastern provinces, but couldn't quite remember his name.

'No sir ... she gone,' said Intios stammering and trying to find words, 'To Hailandkill.'

Atellus nearly reacted like the Congressmen around him. Those last two words nearly caused a revolution within the Congressional Halls at the moment. The bulky Atellus couldn't blame them though -- Hailandkill was damn near a sworn enemy of the Monotheistic Republic. And while Jagite politicans were never known for their national loyalty -- to have the High Minister resign and go to a hostile country only implied one thing.

Atellus didn't even have a chance to point it out before a Congressman, thick Inn accent and all, cried out, 'She was a spy!'

Intios spread both hands out and raised his voice, deep with formal speaking and years of speach schooling, 'There is absolutely no evidence of treason.'

'How can we be sure?' cried an Congressmen that Atellus couldn't see.

Intios' voice sounded with a hint of annoyance, 'Because if she was, we'd have completely lost the last war with them. Their fleet wouldn't have stagnated off our coast.'

His words rang true, and Atellus couldn't help but feel stupid for not realizing the same. Though the possibility of a much more complex plan, requiring that 'defeat', had to be played out by the Killians before their death blow could be delievered. Atellus pondered for nearly the rest of meeting, since it consisted of nothing of substance but shouting, profanities, and damnations towards the former High Minister.

Only Intios managed to kept Atellus' attention, 'Listen, gentlemen -- there is nothing we can do about her actions. If she was a spy, is a traitor, is simply a derelict. It doesn't matter now. We have to push forward and resolve this quickly. Its only a matter of time before the media picks up on her absence.'

Atellus gave the media two weeks to start raising questions about Riyabou's status in the country. If she was anything, she was media friendly. Very media friendly. If some camera somewhere didn't pick her up in two weeks, they would know something was up.

'As you all know, Hextes Dranor, the former High Executive, went missing nearly five weeks ago,' said Intios, there was no gasping, his disapperance was old news and barley spoken about. 'As such we must quickly find a successor.'

Several congressmen immediately nominated themselves to the position, only to be damned by an equal number who thought them too inept to hold the office. This bickering continued for nearly ten minutes before Intios' gavel pounded in the center of Atellus' head once more. It didn't seem to be restoring order and Atellus was on the verge of screaming when a sudden calm came across the room.

'One of us in this room must take that spot. However, now is not the time to make that decision. Unless there is an objection, we shall ponder the matter and return here in a week to vote.'

There was a general murmur of agreement across the Halls. Atellus snickered interally. The political wheels of Jagada were about to grind the souls from men once more.

'What about Riyabou's resignation,' asked one Congressmen suddenly, 'We simply cannot let the population know their High Minister just defected. I don't think I have to point out the dissent that'd come from that ...'

His tone suggested he was being a smartass, but Atellus agreed with him. To let the people know what she'd done was to damn everyone in these Halls. Intios was shifting uneasily as the podium. Atellus was shocked, the old fool couldn't possibly have been considering that option. Just as the Halls began to clammer once in displeasure of Intios' unspoken answer, they were filled with another voice. Slow, steady, and rigid as steel.

'I've already taken care of it,' the voice said, as a man appeared from seemingly out of nowhere. Atellus knew he hadn't really been paying attention for the better part of this hearing, but to miss this guy enter the room would have been hard. He looked around and saw that reality on the face more than one Congressmen.

Intios turned and seemed to steady at the site of the tanned, thin man. Obviously of Pax Topazian descent, walking up to him. The old Speaker stepped down and let him take the podium.

'I've already taken care of it,' he repeated, 'Many of you do not know who I am, and I'd rather keep it that way.'

Even from this distance, Atellus could tel that his hair was pure silver, in color at least. It sent the clear message that he was of pure Jagite descent, no Imperial in him at all. He was, in essence, a native. Whereas Atellus and the entire Congress were not.

'Just know that God's Eye is aware of the severity of this situtation and plans to give you all the chance to rectify these events.'

'How will we know,' asked Atellus, not realizing he'd spoken until he had.

The man looked at him and the middle aged Congressmen felt very weak in his gaze.

'You'll know ... trust me, you won't miss it.'

Atellus Manor,
Outskirts of New Christendom

'Lord,' said the portly, elderly man sitting before Atellus, 'Surely you see the reason and logic that Raltus brings!'

Atellus sat in his oversized chair, almost a throne by ancient standards, and peered across the large table at Zuriel Thala, a Congressmen of some merit. He was the oldest member of Congress by at least ten years. Being ninety-nine, he seemed just a fervent in his ideals as the first days he'd step into those hallowed Halls. Or at least thats what Atellus had always heard. At the very least the man made a good point.

'How, Lord Thala, am I suppose to be sure that my commit to a ... Non Christendom canidate will be the best decision for me.'

Atellus had always tried to see beyond his own personal schemes and benefits when choosing politicians to support. Though this man, this Zuriel Thala came from the Armoured Factories of Inn. The massive, sprawling industrious wasteland that held one billion souls. It stretched for an endless, clearly going beyond any reasonable need. It held within it nearly sixty thousand sub cities and districts that over the years had simply been forced to merge with the Central District. Once they did, they received the benefits just like anyone else. Their lands, their homes, their religious shrines would be destroyed and on top of the factories of steel and armored plating would be erected -- an everlasting glory of the Corporate Masters of Inn. It was just the beginning, along with the choking smog and blatant corrupt was the fact that this one billion strong city also doubled as a massive, complex, and twisted military fortress that housed nearly ten million troops, sixteen airbases and nine major naval ports, with six secondary ones. It was litterally a metal verison of hell on earth. Atellus had refused to even visit the cess pool his entire life. That, however, never stopped Inn from being one of the most influential cities in politics, throwing its industrial weight around. If Atellus was going to give them what they needed to take the main stage -- he'd demand, by God he'd demand.

'Sir,' said Zuriel clearly thinking he was about to deliver his first wave of flat promises. Atellus spotted this immediately. 'Lord Raltus knows that you have stocks in many of the armament companies. He's been considering investing heavily in these companies. Your ... assistance would make it only more profitable for him to do invest.'

Even though those words were no doubt prepared by Raltus himself and given to Zuriel, it was cleanly delievered and as much as Atellus hated to admit it, he was intrigued. If Raltus, a man of no small amount of money, invested in companies he had stocks in -- then they would clearly grow dramatically. Hell, if they didn't become the government's main weapons supplier by the time Raltus took office, he'd been damn surprised. Still, watching Raltus grow rich with him wasn't what Atellus had in mind. He shrugged, 'The stocks don't matter to me, sir. So to try and bribe me with money indirectly ... is an insult to my honor.'

Zuriel's face grimmaced for a moment, his old skin making it even more noticable. He stuttered to find the right words. 'M-my lord, I-I wouldn't dare. What I mean is ...'

Atellus' respect for Raltus was slowly withering, surely he'd given his voicebox some kind of back up. Clearly he did, it was just that Zuriel, a man who was use to getting his way the first time hadn't been mentally prepared for Atellus' reponse. It was clear that Atellus loved his stock holdings, and any five minute research into him proved it.

'Lord,' said Zuriel finding himself, or at least the words Raltus probably drilled into his ancient cranium, 'Lord Raltus is also prepared, from what I understand, to support the reconstruction of the ancient monestary city of Neo-Jagada. I know you have been pushing for its reconstruction with no small amount of ferver. Raltus understands this -- he wants the same.'

Gimmick number two, thought Atellus. Obviously playing not on his financial greed, but rather his zeal in Neo-Jagada, the first capital city of Jagada. If it were reconstruction, only the elites would live behind its massive, steel walls. For its construction would be for the 'good of the people' on the surface, provding jobs and tempoary residence in company towns. It was, in reality, a fortress to be made for the elite of Jagada to reside in. It had become a consider secret topic amoung some of the elite since the citizens were becoming more and more bold with each passing terrorist attack. However, Atellus could just as damn easily bypass Raltus, support the only other seemingly major canidate arising from the whispers of Congress -- Pontius Glaw.

He told Zuriel that in slow, annoyed words that unsettled the elderly Congressmen even more. His face glowed a hint of red and his words became more authoritarian with each passing moments. He glare would have ripped a hole in the side of the Walls of Heaven, but Atellus would not back down.

'My Lord you are being quite ridiculous!' he exclaimed finally, two afters into the conversation and with all of his cards being played, twice over.

Atellus had, had enough, 'Lord Zuriel, no one. Man, woman, even the Lord Almighty may his voice to me in my home! I will have to ask that you leave immediately and do not return. Inform your Lord Raltus that I shall never support him!'

Zuriel leaned back, eyes wide and full of fear -- he'd just damned his canidate. Without a New Christendom Congressmen's support, no other cities canidate could hope to win an election. To have one of the high elites support you meant you had some merit -- or at least powerful friends, both of which worked in the Jagite system.

'Atellus, p-p-please forgive me,' he stammered on.

Atellus scowled, 'I shall not ask you again Lord Zuriel.'

Atellus watched as the elderly congressmen left the room, escorted by armed guards. He rose from his chair and went to one of the rooms eight large windows and looked out. Watching Zuriel reach his limo a few minutes later. He gave one last glaring look before closing the door. The limo lurched forward and down the damp streets of Jagada. Once Raltus heard of Zuriel's failure, Atellus was sure more than just the sky would be crying.

JAB 'Greece III'
Military Base, forty miles south of Pax Topazia

Trantor's armoured vehicle came to a quiet halt at the entrance to JAB 'Greece III', a primarily Republican Guard base. Its ten foot high, steel-reinforced concrete walls shadowed Trantor and his vehicle. The only entrance were two twelve inch thick steel doors, almost always open, since the repeated tasks of opening and closing were simply too much of an effort for the base's troops. A sign of laziness, thought Trantor, he'd have to speak with the Camp Commander. The troops at the door, surprisingly lightly armed with only JR-5's and regular uniform looked over the papers and shrugged. Trantor's vehicle lurched on. The troops didn't salute or even stand in attention, they simply went back to talking amoungst themselves. A cold fact rolled them him ... they probably didn't even 'read' the damn papers.

The camoflauged vehicle rolled threw the base and the sight disgusted Trantor. Troops walked around in ... in civilian clothing! That shocked him. He knew the Republican Guard was nothing to be feared, their countless defeats has proven that much. Their inability to exert New Christendom's will upon the rest of the country had made them a laughing stock. About two years ago, the last remnants of professionalism decayed when the vaunted 21st 'Storm Guard' Regiment resigned completely and became a mercenary group for The Translyvania, under the Count. With their leaving the Guard became even more lazy and the general idea was to join the Guard to ensure you had the basic needs in life. Essientally these were not fighting men and this was not the Military. They were lazy, welfare-needy bastards and this was their government teet. Trantor couldn't bare it, he looked down at the file in front of him. The papers showed him the formation of the new '574th Division'. The troops were primarily wrought from the highly religious city of Drenii. It showed that they would be a standard fifty-thousand mand divison with the usual -- two infantry companies, two mechanized-armor brigades, and the ever so essiental 'rear-guard'. The most promising men were grouped into a special divison, the rear guard, to defend the Division as it retreated or when it needed a place to be strictly defended. Another insult to the integrity of Jagada, thought Trantor. The Guard had retreated and been routed so many times, and it was during these moments that they took their most losses -- that Franco York has declared the need for the men 'to have a shield on their backs'.

Trantor's armoured vehicle finally came upon a rather unimpressive building made of metal and looked in a state of semi-disrepair. He driver got out and walked towards his door in perfect military discipline. While the Guard may have been decaying, he wouldn't allow his staff to. The driver opened the door and Trantor immediately felt the humid enviroment fill his once cool backseat. As he stepped out of the backseat he straightened his royal blue military uniform and loosed the grip his trenchcoat, of similar color, to allow as much breeze as possible. The heat was damn near unholy. He looked around, waiting for someone to introduce themselves -- but the men passed by and ignored him as if he'd never been standing there. His annoyance grew and he finally reached out and grabbed a soldier on the shoulder and spun him around.

'What is your duty soldier?' he snapped.

The soldier just looked at him blankly, not even realizing the symbols on Trantor gave him the rank of General of the Department of War.

'Loosen up dude,' said the soldier after a long pause.

Trantor's eye nearly burst out of their sockets, he face grew blood red, 'What in the name of God do you presume to be doing here? I am General of the Department of War! You will show me proper respect of rank!'

The soldier, annoyed by the outburst, quickly slapped Trantor's hand off of his shoulder, 'Listen, mother fucker. I don't care if you're the damned High Minister, I won't be talked to like that!'

Trantor growled and was about to strike the soldier when a voice came from behind him, 'Stand down!'

Trantor turned to see a man who's symbols and medals gave him the rank of Camp Commander. Just who he was looking for. He wasn't much of a site to see, his uniform was stained with what looked like food and his hair wasn't combed in a fine manner. He seemed to be here, but not. Like he was hungover.

'Camp Commander,' Trantor snapped, 'I demand you immediately restrain this soldier!'

The Commander looked at Trantor like he was stupid and then looked back at the soldier, 'Get back to your Goddamn barrack you fucker. I don't have time for your shit ... again!'

The soldier spat on the ground at Trantor's feet and began to walk off. Trantor looked at the ground and took a step forward, only to suddenly find at leat four soldiering standing between him. The soldier who'd spat on him turned and looked at Trantor with a grin.

'This isn't your comfy office back in the capital, sir' he added that last word with severe disgust, 'We look after our own here.'

Trantor turned back at the Camp Commander who by now was simple resigned to the whole matter and retreating back to his 'command center', as the words painted above the main entrance read. Trantor gave the soldier one last look that suggested he'd pay ever so dearly for his actions. He turned and ordered his driver to follow him -- he didn't want him to suffer, since it appeared discipline had all but collapsed completely. As the two walked in the stink of alcohol filled the room, mainly that of vodka. The 'command center' at least was tidy and in order, with a few quiet clerks moving around, filing and checking charts. The commander center was essientally a large square. The first half of the building was nothing but a large reception area where two guards stood in attention, they surprisingly weren't facing towards the building but looking out the windows. Trantor's careful eye caught that their weapons were not on safety. One more question among many. He kept moving forward and found that a wall divide this half from the next. A couple of parts of the wall seemed to have been been repaired. At the middle of the wall, a steel door had been placed, the Camp Commander had already passed threw, but since then the guard standing next to it had closed and locked it. When Trantor came up to him he saluted, the first sign of real discipline. He would have shown him more respect but his rage still seethed.

'The door, soldier,' he said plainly. Though even as he said it the guard reached over and pulled several locks, a seemingly large number and very complex and the door swung open. The Guard returned to his salute and held it until Trantor passed.

As the General of the Department of War passed he saw the command centers annex department. Communications, manned by two female officers. Basic administration, with two basic rank troops looking threw papers. Finally they came up to another steel door, which sectioned a small room off from the rest of the base. Next to it were two more guards. This door however, was open and the Camp Commander was waving Trantor and his driver inside. As the General entered the room the Camp Commander sighed.

He motion to a chair, 'Please, General, have a seat. We have much to discuss ...'