The Resurgent Dream
27-11-2008, 10:16
The world was in a constant state of flux. That was the lesson High King Owain ap Cunedda, not yet thirty, had already learned. Still, it seemed like he had simply awakened one morning and found everything he knew gone, at least insofar as the world beyond Confederal borders was concerned. Once great powers were gone or reduced to irrelevance. Allies once strong and active had drifted into dormancy. There was no shaking the feeling that the entire international landscape was no longer what he had known.
Owain stood with a frown, handsome features tightening and eyes narrowing. President Sarah Sacker, Vice President John Palmer, and Foreign Affairs Councilor Waihoroi Paraha stood almost immediately. Sacker and Paraha were young for their positions but all three were older than he was. Every member of the Confederal Council was younger that he was. It had never bothered him before. He had never felt young, never felt awkward about having older and more experienced civil servants paying him formal deference even if it was only when he was exercising his largely ineffectual right to be informed, advise, and consent. “Mr. Paraha, are you entirely sure that this is a wise policy?” Owain ran over again the list of those who might be offended. Most of them were nations which no longer factored into the international equation.
“The essential problem is simply one of establishment,” Paraha said with a charming smile. The man was always insufferably charming. Ever since he had entered public life, comedians had quipped that his rise owed more to his sex appeal than to his competence. Owain didn’t believe that but he would have preferred to have this conversation with an old, dour, balding man. It would have seemed more natural.
“The world’s an ugly place these days,” Palmer explained. “It’s full of slavery, colonialism, wars…it seems there’s almost always a larger war these days. This exercise will define our borders to the world. Just because we’re a peaceful people doesn’t mean we tolerate the intolerable. We’ll show these little…” Paraha coughed. Palmer glanced at him with a frown before continuing, “…these criminals that they cannot behave like this so close to Confederal soil.”
“It also doesn’t hurt to secure the safety of our fishers,” Sacker added. In addition to being President of the Confederal Council, she also headed the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries.
“You’re not really asking, are you?” Owain asked. He knew it was an inappropriate question as soon as he asked it. It was a sign of just how frustrated he was.
“No,” Sacker said gently but firmly, “as Your Majesty is aware, the Confederal Council has this power in its own right.”
“Of course,” Owain answered. The Crown had virtually no powers in its own right. “Do you intend to appoint a Grand Marshall?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Paraha said.
Owain inclined his head. “Very well. This might be overdue but I still worry about possible provocation.”
“Don’t,” Paraha said simply, bowing deeply. The conversation continued for an hour after that but it devolved entirely into meaningless pleasantries. The new initiative hung in the air, lurking behind every casual comment. The Confederal Navy was going to decisively get rid of piracy in the Gulf of Vasconia.
Owain stood with a frown, handsome features tightening and eyes narrowing. President Sarah Sacker, Vice President John Palmer, and Foreign Affairs Councilor Waihoroi Paraha stood almost immediately. Sacker and Paraha were young for their positions but all three were older than he was. Every member of the Confederal Council was younger that he was. It had never bothered him before. He had never felt young, never felt awkward about having older and more experienced civil servants paying him formal deference even if it was only when he was exercising his largely ineffectual right to be informed, advise, and consent. “Mr. Paraha, are you entirely sure that this is a wise policy?” Owain ran over again the list of those who might be offended. Most of them were nations which no longer factored into the international equation.
“The essential problem is simply one of establishment,” Paraha said with a charming smile. The man was always insufferably charming. Ever since he had entered public life, comedians had quipped that his rise owed more to his sex appeal than to his competence. Owain didn’t believe that but he would have preferred to have this conversation with an old, dour, balding man. It would have seemed more natural.
“The world’s an ugly place these days,” Palmer explained. “It’s full of slavery, colonialism, wars…it seems there’s almost always a larger war these days. This exercise will define our borders to the world. Just because we’re a peaceful people doesn’t mean we tolerate the intolerable. We’ll show these little…” Paraha coughed. Palmer glanced at him with a frown before continuing, “…these criminals that they cannot behave like this so close to Confederal soil.”
“It also doesn’t hurt to secure the safety of our fishers,” Sacker added. In addition to being President of the Confederal Council, she also headed the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries.
“You’re not really asking, are you?” Owain asked. He knew it was an inappropriate question as soon as he asked it. It was a sign of just how frustrated he was.
“No,” Sacker said gently but firmly, “as Your Majesty is aware, the Confederal Council has this power in its own right.”
“Of course,” Owain answered. The Crown had virtually no powers in its own right. “Do you intend to appoint a Grand Marshall?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Paraha said.
Owain inclined his head. “Very well. This might be overdue but I still worry about possible provocation.”
“Don’t,” Paraha said simply, bowing deeply. The conversation continued for an hour after that but it devolved entirely into meaningless pleasantries. The new initiative hung in the air, lurking behind every casual comment. The Confederal Navy was going to decisively get rid of piracy in the Gulf of Vasconia.