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“This is the fourth day of protests on the streets of Hypocrium and the crowds are getting bigger and bigger as each day passes. And the cries of protest are set to continue as the group that we now know as ‘Reformists’ have organised night-long vigils in various locations around the capital including here, outside the Imperial Citadel itself.
They have come out in their thousands today and their numbers are growing by the minute as the citizens of the Autocracy take to the streets to demand changes to the very foundation of how the nation is governed. And the scenes we are witnessing here are being echoed in cities and towns across the entire nation. But still, the Central Government remains steadfastly silent on the issue.”
As the news report ended the camera panned out to reveal the extent of the massed crowds that had gathered outside the Autocracy’s seat of power. The chants of “Bring back the Republic!” and the placards proclaiming such diverse slogans as Give Democracy a Chance and Stick It Up Your Junta! became painfully apparent. Before the image descended into sudden darkness.
Andrius Vyntra, First Minister of the Autocracy, unceremoniously tossed the remote aside and took a long sip of vodka. If only it were that easy to silence the rabble. This was exactly what he had feared. Exactly why he knew the handover of power had to be smooth and above all, swift. And it could have been. Everything had been in place. Vyntra had returned from Andossa Se Mitrin Vega fully expecting to be unanimously appointed as the new Autokrator. But all that time spent cultivating friendships and alliances within the Citadel’s towering walls had all been for nought as the Autocracy’s hierarchy spilt asunder and the power struggle descended into bitter stalemate.
First General Arack had made a play for power and then Minister Khasinau had thrust himself into the limelight. Each had their own supporters and allies within the High Command and Central Government and Vyntra was no longer the unrivalled choice. Men he had regarded as friends were now Vyntra’s political enemies, while the First Minister’s list of foes had multiplied a thousand fold as the hordes of protestors gathered in the city’s streets. And they would all suffer.
For hours Vyntra had sat in his stately office and contemplated the downfall of the enemies that stood between him and the Autokrator’s throne. Plotting and scheming. Dark designs rose and fell in the recesses of his brain as ideas were cast aside as being unworkable. The reality was that, with his power base crumbling, he no longer knew who he could trust to aid him. He could no longer relay on the majority of his so called supporters. No, if he was ever to become the undisputed ruler of the Autocracy he would require aid from a different quarter. But where?
He poured himself another glass of vodka and held the bottle up to the light. If only the path ahead of him was as clear as the liquid lapping behind the familiar logo of Orcinus. Slowly a smile spread across the face of the First Minister. Reaching across, he pressed a button built into his desk.
“Maria, have Director Thirsk report to my office immediately. And advise him to bring everything the Directorate has on the Starblaydi Inquisition.” |
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“Is this it?” Vyntra asked, looking at the small sheath of papers in his hand. “Everything?”
“Yes sir. When you weed out all the speculation and hearsay there isn’t a lot of concrete facts out there. Catching the Inquisition in the act is like catching smoke.”
The First Minister regarded the man sitting opposite him. Vincent Thirsk was the head of H-Directorate, the Autocracy’s own intelligence service. Like many in the nation’s upper echelons Thirsk had served with the late Autokrator in the army, prior to the coup that had overthrown the Republic and his loyalty and obedience to Titus had been well known. Vyntra was as yet unsure as to where Thirsk’s loyalties now lay.
As Vyntra scanned through the papers a section jumped out at him. “You set up a surveillance operation here in the Citadel? Why?”
“After certain information turned up in the hands of a foreign power the Autokrator believed there to be an information leak stemming from the highest level. Hence the surveillance.”
“I was never informed of this.”
“No, no one was. I reported directly to him.”
“So what did you find?”
“Nothing conclusive.”
Vyntra’s heart sank slightly. “Nothing at all?”
“Nothing conclusive. The Autokrator ordered the investigation shut down almost as soon as it had begun. The timing coincided with the nation’s entry into the SAAS and I suspect he didn’t want to offend one of our new allies.” That last sentence hung in the air between the two men. Vyntra nodded in understanding, the fact that this information had been included within the file on the Starblaydi Inquisition told Vyntra exactly who Titus had not wanted to offend.
“You said nothing conclusive, so you did discover something?”
Thirsk leant forward slightly. “First Minister, I believe I discovered the leak.”
“Who?”
Thirsk looked reluctant. “The Autokrator order the investigation closed, I shouldn’t . . .”
“The Autokrator is dead.” Vyntra interjected. “And until a new one is appointed, as First Minister I am in charge. So I’ll ask again. Who?”
“Information uncovered before the investigation was shut down red flagged a gentleman by the name of Andrew Farman. He’s an aide to the Minister of Foreign Affairs.”
“That sycophantic weirdo who follows Borada around. He’s an Inquisitor?”
“I doubt that but he certainly fitted the profile of someone an agency could recruit. Something of a loaner. He had debts too, gambling mainly. A sizable portion of which seemingly vanished at around that time. Either he won very big or someone helped him out.”
“But he’s still working with Borada, I saw him yesterday. You suspected someone of colluding with a foreign government and you did nothing?”
“Those were my orders. The Autokrator felt that if we removed Farman the Inquisition would no doubt infiltrate some other way. Better the devil you know and all that. Besides, I think he felt Farman could prove useful.”
“Indeed.” Vyntra sat back in his chair, trying very hard not to smile. He hoped that the Directorate’s files my contain some nugget of information that would help him contact the Inquisition. But if Thirsk was right, and he usually was, he really had struck gold. And he had to act on it. But first he needed Thirsk to be somewhere else.
“Indeed, and for the moment I see no reason to change that. Thank you, this has been a most enlightening meeting. However, I had another reason for summoning you here Vincent. I have a small assignment for the Directorate.”
Thirsk paused slightly before answering, arranging his words carefully. “First Minister myself and my department serve the nation. How can I put this? I cannot let the Directorate’s resources be used to favour any side in this unfortunate state of affairs we find ourselves in.”
“Of course Vincent. And I would never ask you to do so.” Vyntra lied smoothly. At least that answered the question of Thirsk’s loyalty. “I’m sure you are well aware of this Reformist movement that has sprung up recently. I want you to watch them and find out everything you can. Someone’s coordinating them and I want to know who.”
“Certainly sir.”
“Excellent Vincent, you may go.”
Vyntra waited for the Director to leave before turning to his computer. He tapped at the keys and opened up the personnel database. Tapping again, he brought up the file for Andrew Farman. He stared at the image on the screen.
“Yes Mr Farman, I’m sure you will prove to be very useful indeed.”
He reached for his phone and dialled a number from memory.
“Mr Black, I once again have need of your services. I trust you can find your way to the Foreign Ministry . . .
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“Morning Frank.”
“Good morning Mr Farman. Looks like being another beautiful day.”
“Certainly does. Lets hope it holds until the weekend.”
With the usual exchange of pleasantries with security out of the way for another morning Andrew Farman headed for the lift. He pressed the button that would take him up to his office on the eleventh floor of the twelve story ministry building. He reached his office, tossed his briefcase onto a chair and switched on his computer. While it was loading up he headed out to the coffee machine. The building was practically empty and would be for at least another half an hour. Farman liked to get in early to avoid the morning congestion. For a couple of days now he had felt a growing sense of unease, as if someone was watching him. But in the secure corridors of the Foreign Ministry he felt totally at ease. He took his coffee and headed back to his desk. No sooner had he taken the first piece of paper from the top of his to do pile then there was a knock at his door.
“Yes?”
Two men entered. One was short while the other was a hulking brute of a man who, despite the morning’s heat, had a jacket draped over one arm. Both had Central Government identity tags. It was the short man who spoke.
“Mr Farman, I apologise for interrupting you so early. My name is Lucius Black and this is my colleague Mr Krum. We’re from CG personnel. I wonder if you could spare us a few minutes?”
“I suppose I could. What’s this about?”
“It’s nothing serious, just an informal chat really. We’re just going around the ministries, talking to employees. Seeing what can be done to improve job satisfaction. That kind of thing. I thought perhaps we might use the conference room. It would be more comfortable.”
“Sure, ok.”
Farman followed the two men out to the lift. Once inside the man who had introduced himself as Lucius Black hit the button for the lobby.
“But the conference room’s on the top fl . . .
Farman’s warning died on his lips as he felt the barrel of a gun press itself into the small of his back. Black turned to him.
“Do exactly what I say and you might even live through this.”
The lift journey lasted mere seconds but for Farman it seemed to stretch for days. Finally the metal box ground to a halt.
“We’re just going to go straight out the front door, nice and easy.”
The doors opened and the three men walked out. Farman searched the lobby, desperately looking for someone, something to get him out of this. But aside from Frank the Ministry’s lobby was deserted this early in the morning. But Frank was meant to be security wasn’t he? You’d think he’d notice someone being marched out of the building at gunpoint. Then it clicked. The jacket. The gun was concealed in the folds of Krum’s jacket. The security guard nodded in his direction and Farman, now resigned to the current hopelessness of the situation, even managed a weak smile in response. The trio made their way out onto the street and into a waiting black car. Moments later they were making slow progress through Hypocrium’s growing morning rush hour.
“Relax Mr Farman.” Black smiled at his captive. “It looks like we could be here for some time.”
“Relax! How the hell am I meant to relax? Who the f**k are you and where ar . . .
Farman’s outburst was cut short by the barrel of Krum’s gun connecting hard and fast with the ministerial aide’s left temple, plunging the captive’s world into darkness.
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Farman opened his eyes and very quickly wished he hadn’t as a stab of pain flashed across his skull. He raised a hand to his throbbing temple. Or he tried to at least. For some reason he couldn’t’t move his arms. Or his legs come to that. Gritting his teeth against the pain he expected to feel, Farman slowly opened his eyes. He was strapped into a chair on a raised platform in the centre of a domed, glass chamber. His vision swam but he thought he saw a figure coming towards him. A figure who gradually came into focus.
“First Minister?” He didn’t even try to hide the sense of shock he felt.
“Mr Farman, you’re awake at last. I was beginning to think Krum had damaged you a little too much.”
“What is this about?”
“Let me come straight to the point. You Mr Farman have been selling state secrets to the Starblaydis.”
Farman’s blood chilled in his veins. This was not good.
Vyntra saw the flicker of guilt on Farman’s face and said a silent prayer of thanks. It had occurred to him more than once that the ministerial aide might be completely innocent. And that this entire operation would have to be halted. Not any more.
“You betrayed you country Farman. By all rights I should kill you now. And let’s face it, who’d miss you? But I know you not really a bad guy. They used you Farman. You were a pawn, nothing more. Someone they could use to take the fall. But I’m going to give you a chance to turn the tables. All you need to do is answer one question. Who is your contact?”
Despite the fear he felt, despite the seeming helplessness of his situation Andrew Farman found his defiance.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vyntra stooped forward so that he could look his captive straight in the eye.
“I don’t have a lot of time for this. The nation’s leaderless, there’s protestors in the streets, there’s a plague threatening our eastern border and the Nedalians have cranked their military spending into overdrive. I have better ways to occupy my time at the moment. So I’ll ask just once more. Who is your contact?”
This time Farman stayed silent.
Vyntra sighed and walked away from the bound man. He ascended the steps leading up to the chamber’s raised door. At the top he turned back.
“You're making a mistake.” He clicked his fingers. “But you have about ten minutes to reconsider.”
At Vyntra’s signal water started to flow into the chamber from openings in the floor. The First Minister had witnessed a number of criminals meet their end here in the Tank. And he had noticed on each occasion an interesting transformation. No matter how hardened the convict, as soon as that water reached them there was no hiding the fear. He had witnessed cold blooded killers break down and beg for mercy when they felt the cold embrace of their own slow and impending death.
Sure enough, when the water reached his feet, Farman revealed it all. How he signalled his contact by placing a code hidden in a lonely hearts ad in the evening edition of the Herald. How his contact had given him a mobile phone when he’d first been approached. A phone on which he received a simple text to acknowledge the coded message, a text stating a place and time. He revealed where the mobile was hidden in his house and how it had only been used twice before. And when the water reached his neck he stopped revealling and simply pleaded for his life. Pleas that fell on deaf ears. Moments later the pleas ended.
____________________________________________________________________
Now he had the information he wanted Vyntra wasted no time in acting on it. Black placed the ad including the code phrase “looking for someone to share my secrets” in the paper. Even Vyntra had smiled at the audacity of the phrase. At the same time Krum was leaving Farman’s apartment, the mobile safely in his percession. Then it just become a matter of waiting.
At 9:17 that night the phone received a messege.
| QUOTE | Rahim’s Bettian Bistro
Booth 2
10:15 |
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The tension that permutated the atmosphere around the Imperial Citadel and the surrounding area of the Autocracy’s capital seemed a world away as, elsewhere in Hypocrium, life went on as normal. Lucius Black took a drag of his cigarette and watched from the shadows as the city’s nightlife flowed around him. To his left the sound of music and revelry drifted out from a brightly lit nightclub while further down the street groups of people where coming out of a cinema. He checked his watch by the light of a nearby street lamp. Time to move. He flicked his cigarette stub away and crossed the street to a building decked out in green and yellow. Black’s arrival snapped a bored looking waiter out of his reverie.
“Good evening sir. Table for one?”
“No, thank you. I’m meeting a friend. He’s at booth two.”
“Ah yes. The gentleman is expecting you. Please follow me.”
Black followed the waiter as instructed but in truth he would have had no trouble finding his man without him. The restaurant was gradually winding up for the night, it’s main business hours already past. In the centre of the room a party of four were making to leave while off to their left a couple starred lovingly into each other’s eyes. And that was it, aside from a single man occupying one of the booths spread across the length of the wall to Black’s right. A man who fixed him with a cold stare as Black crossed the room and sat down opposite him.
“I think you have the wrong table.” The statement was as icy as the stare.
Black placed a mobile phone on the table and pushed it towards the man opposite him. The message on the screen read,
| QUOTE | Rahim’s Bettian Bistro
Booth 2
10:15 |
“I think I have exactly the right table.”
Black studied the man opposite him. Nondescript was ironically about the best description he could come up with. The man’s eyes quickly swept across the room, the only sign that betrayed his nerves.
“Relax ‘Blaydi. You’re in no danger. I came alone. Besides, my employer insisted that I not kill you. You are much more useful to him alive. He has something for you to take back to your masters in Jhanna. A proposition . . .
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Night had fallen on Aquiliana. The dark limousine tore across a darker landscape, it’s twin beams cutting into the surrounding darkness like a knife. Out of his window all Vyntra could make out were trees. They loomed above the vehicle on both sides of the road. During the day they could have been quite pleasant, in the darkness everything took on a sinister feel. Up ahead he could make out lights. They had arrived. The limo entered the structure through a huge gateway, and into a courtyard.
“Wow.”
Vyntra looked around in awe. The surroundings were truly awesome. Vast battlements rose skyward, orange lamps atop them cast an eerie radiance over the armed guards who now watched him. Higher still were the towers, illuminated by the same disturbing orange glow. The First Minister was suddenly regretting his decision to come alone.
“This way, Sir.”
Vyntra followed a uniformed flunkey deep into the fortress’ interior. He followed him through an endless string of dimly lit corridors until they reached a large doorway. The entrance was flanked by two soldiers, both well over six foot and armed to the teeth. Their presence gave Vyntra a clear sign of what lay beyond the threshold. The servant indicated that he should enter. Resisting the urge to turn tail and flee, he never would have found his way back to the car anyway, Andrius Vyntra, First Minister of the Autocracy, entered.
The room beyond continued with the whole moody lightening theme present throughout the castle, the majority of the room’s illumination coming from a large fire that burnt in it’s hearth along the far wall. Vyntra wasn’t sure if it was the shadows cast by the blaze that gave the room a menacing feel or the fact that facing him was the most feared being in the entire region, a woman whose very name had become synonymous with dark deeds. Putting the fate of the now departed Autokrator firmly to the back of his mind Vyntra took a step forward and, unsure of what to do next, settled for a slight bow.
“Lady-Protector, thank you for receiving me at this unsociable hour..." |
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She had sat in one of the low leather sofas that faced each other across a low antique table, all three pieces of furniture set in a sunken area in the centre of the chamber. The stone walls, huge chunks of ancient hewn rock, loomed high above Vyntra as he explained himself to Lady Viannor. She sat crosslegged, oe ankle resting on the thigh of her other leg, lazily stirring a glass of vodka, swinging it in a circular mation with her wrist. Eventually she spoke.
"'Favours' are not items I despense freely, Autokrator," she looked up at him, her head bowed slightly, "I will require something in kind from you for this assistance you ask for."
"Name it." Vyntra said, a little too quickly. Viannor smiled at that.
"Your men," she said, "every fighting man and woman in Hypocria, re-allied with the Strategic Alliance, permanently."
"You have it." Vyntra was a little slower in making his mind up this time, though he had known the price, deep down, before he had stepped on the plane. "I have something for you, as a show of good faith."
Delicately he put his hand inside his jacket pocket. There was no danger of him brandishing a weapon, he had been thoroughly checked out before coming within a mile of the castle. An A5 envelope appeared with official-looking words like 'A.S.P.I.R.E.', 'Eyes only' and 'Top Secret' on them. Viannor chuckled.
"'Aspire' sounds like a boy band anyway," Vyntra smirked at his own comment, "we don't want to be a part of it any more." Viannor nodded.
"Thankyou, Autokrator," Viannor said, rising as Vytnra politely did the same, "I look forward to welcoming you back to the fold." |
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Vyntra stifled a yawn. The whirlwind night trip to Aquiliana had done nothing for his sleep habits. But with Viannor now involved there was no turning back. It was time to put the next phase of the plan into action. He opened two personnel files from the Citadel’s database. The first was that of Klaus Khasinau, the Autocracy’s Minister of the Interior. The second belonged to General Baltus Arack, the capitol’s military chief. Both he had thought of as allies, both had made their own plays for the vacant Autokrator’s throne and both would now suffer. He clicked send and the faces on his screen disappeared.
The First Minister allowed himself a brief smile. But his work wasn’t quite done. There was still the small matter of his side of the bargain. Vyntra started typing . . .
| QUOTE | To: ASPIRE Representatives
Errion Vega
Delegates,
Due to the current start of unrest in Hypocrium I have no option but to withdraw the Autocracy from the Alliance for Stability, Peace and Intra-Regional Entente with immediate effect. We must first tackle the problems within our own borders before we can even consider the wider issues of the region.
Andrius Vyntra
First Minister of the Autocracy |
And very soon those problems would be well and truly tackled.
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Operation Monster, Target Alpha: Klaus Khasinau, Interior Minster for The Imperial Autocracy of Hypocria.
The Autocracy-made stretched Lavagna, the standard governmental car in Hypocria sped through the empty streets of the captial, very few cars were out tonight, the possibility of random public unrest was higher than usual, and Khasinau was nearly at his destination.
The bright lights of the main street pulled away behind his car as it turned down a back street, hardly lit save for a few of the tall tungsten lights above, giving the street a yellowy-orange glow. Coming to the next junction, his driver barely looked as he crossed straight over. Khasinau barely saw the flash of oncrushing headlights, the side of his face illuminated as the large vehicle careered towards them.
"Oh fu-"
He didnt even have time to swear properly before the car hit them, slamming into the front right wing and spinning his staff car through two hundred and seventy degrees. He'd been wearing his seatbelt, but his body was flung around in the back seat like a rag doll. Dazed and confused, he managed to unbuckle his belt and near-fell into the door, opening it from the inside and barely staying on his feet as he stepped out.
"Nikos," he said, wondering if his driver was still alive, "are you okay?"
He looked up, another car had arrived on the scene, people were getting out. He staggered towards them.
"An accident," he managed to say, "there's been an accident."
The managed to focus on the figures coming towards him. Women, holding... Guns.
Khasinau's brain didn't even have time to process the information correctly, the impact had dazed him so much, he was badly shaken and in moments he would be dead. They turned on the dying driver, too, shattering the windscreen full of holes. The car pulled away leaving the Lavagna strewn across the middle of the road, engine seeping steam into the night air, Minister Khasina laying dead on the floor, riddled with bullets.
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"So really, how good is the Eagle?"
For the Inquisition agent, snagging the Master Crew Chief for a conversation while on the Hypocrian airbase had not been difficult. If she got this one right, a place high in the KERES order surely awaited her. Joining the Starblaydi Military sales team had been a simple one, replacing one of the regular members at the last moment. Garbed up as a Starblaydi Air Force Flight Lieutenant, she was part of the team attempting to get Hypocria to purchase some planes.
Conversing with this Crew Chief had twofold benefits, the most obvious being another convert to the calls for upgrading the Hypocrian Air Force. The second, however, was more subtle, and more critical.
"Oh it's an excellent plane, great superiority craft," she said, knowing just what to say after all her research, "don't get brainwashing into thinking it's the best there is, but it's tried and tested as great."
"Isn't that what you Starblaydis do?" the Chief joked, probably an attempt at flirting.
"Oh please," she giggled, placing her hand delicately for half a heartbeat on his, "it's not possible. You can suggest, you can programme, but wash? Don't be silly."
"I bet you keep all sorts of mind-wiping devices in that bag of yours."
"Never look in a lady's handbag," she said, "you never know what you might find."
A pair of wire cutters, other assorted tools and an ultra sort-range communications jammer.
*****
Operation Monster, Target Beta: General Baltus Arack.
Pawns are expendable, but only so many are ever in play at once. Brainwashed, suggested, programmed, however you want to call it, the subject flying the Gulfstream V jet aircraft somewhere over Hypocria was so described. He had only one aim, one purpose, one destiny.
The flught path was pre-planned, and he was about to break off. He had enough pilot training to execute this mission, a one-way trip. Pawns willing to give their lives, or rather expend them, were few, but here was one and it was time. He banked the craft to the left and started a descent.
It wasn't long before he saw his target on the horizon, but the communication devices were all going off at him.
<Flight niner-four-three, turn course right to zero-one-three, you are approaching restricted air space, fighters are being scrambled to escort you away from the area.>
Escort. Unlikely, seeing how Hypocria's main airbase was up ahead, including one high-ranking General having dinner in one of the apartments.
*****
"Chief, come in Chief." Nothing on the radio. "Cheif, our Alert Tigers have been sabotaged, we can't get them off the ground. Chief? Come in, Master Crew Chief!"
Nothing but static.
*****
General Arack was having a lovely spot of afternoon supper, eating from a silver service with a waiter on hand at his beck and call. His back was to the window, as the setting sun had been blinding him from the other side of the table. He never saw it coming, he never even heard the commotion outside a few floors below. The sound of a plane on an airbase was nothing new, but this was louder than usual. Arack turned just in time to see the oncoming jet for a split second. Less than a heartbeat later the bulding erupted in a gout of flame and smoke and all hell broke loose on the airbase. |
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Andrius Vyntra had the look of someone unsure whether to laugh or cry. He had already been fully briefed on the events at Tracadia but seeing the live feed from the Autocracy’s largest airbase highlighted the destruction. The entire command block was a smouldering ruin, but on the plus side so was General Arack. Still, it didn’t exactly reflect well on the Autocracy’s security forces.
“Shouldn’t there be checks in place to prevent people crashing aircraft into our military bases?”
Lucius Black guessed the question was rhetorical but he answered anyway.
“The Starblaydis can be very resourceful.”
“Clearly.” He spat the word out. “When all this is over every single security procedure in this entire nation is going to be reviewed.”
“You did give the ‘Blaydis free rein.”
“I don’t recall asking her to hit someone with a plane.”
“Are you still going to try and pin the murders on the Reformists?”
“Oh yes. Those suits downstairs are terrified. They thought of themselves are untouchable and now they’ve seen two of their own number die. They don’t want answers. They don’t want the truth. They’re looking for ways to save their own skins. And I am going to give them the opportunity to do so. Trust me Lucius, they will believe anything I tell them.”
He was interrupted by a voice over the intercom.
“They’re ready for you sir.”
Vyntra smiled at his minion.
“Showtime.”
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Standing at the podium in the Citadel’s central chamber, the most important people in the entire Autocracy arrayed before him, Andrius Vyntra made the most significant speech of his life.
“Members of the Central Government and the High Command, I’m sure you are all aware of the tragic events of the last two days. Events I feel have made painfully clear the fact that the time for this petty bickering is long since past. While we have been squabbling amongst ourselves we have allowed the enemies of this nation to strike deep into the heart of this very institution. The Reformists have claimed two of our own number and, while we remain divided, anyone in this room could be next. We need to act now. We need to unite behind a new Autokrator.”
We let the murmurings subside. Now was the time to hammer the point home.
“Gentlemen, name me as Titus’ successor and I will make you a promise. Grant me the title of Autokrator and together we can destroy this so-called Reformist movement. We can crush them utterly. We can bring peace back to the streets of our cities. And once this crisis has been dealt with we can make the Autocracy stronger than ever before.”
He allowed a pause for dramatic effect.
“The choice is yours.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
| QUOTE | The Evening Herald
New Autokrator Named
Gavin Cromwell reports,
After weeks of uncertainty the nation has a new leader. At 12:37 this afternoon First Minister Andrius Vyntra was officially appointed as the new Autokrator. The appointment came in the wake of the violent acts that claimed the lives of two members of the nation’s leadership. In his first official statement the new Autokrator revealed that the Central Government has conclusive proof that those acts were committed by the group calling themselves Reformists. He accused the movement of hiding behind “a veil of peaceful protest” to mask their true motives from the public. The statement has signalled the start of a huge security operation against the group and the first arrests were made just twelve minutes after the Autokrator’s declaration.
Also on the new Autokrator’s agenda is a desire to reaffirm the nation’s commitment to the Lavingrad Pact and the Strategic Alliance of Autocratic States. He called the decision to previously withdraw from that coalition as “a product of my predecessor’s failing health” and underlined the importance of returning to the Alliance, particularly considering the volatile nature of the region . . . |
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The media room of the Foreign Ministry was fast filling up. A big announcement was scheduled and their were murmurings of anticipation across the room. Microphones were mounted around the central podium, cameras were positioned and repositioned and notebooks and pens were poised as two men entered and took their seats at the head of the ensemble. Dino Bernaka, one of the Central Government’s press handlers, raised a hand to silence the murmurs.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. We’re going to keep this brief. The Minister has a statement he’s going to read and then we’ll open questions to the floor. So if you’re all clear I’ll hand over to Minister Borada.”
Maximilian Borada, the Autocracy’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, cleared his throat. He hated these press conferences. And this time it wasn’t just the usual local guys. Oh no, now he was faced by reporters from all over Atlantian Oceania, all of whom were now watching him intently. They put him in mind of vultures circling a man lost in the desert.
“Thank you. It has become increasingly apparent that it is unwise for a nation to stand alone in the world, particularly in this time of tensions we find ourselves in. It is with that in mind that I can officially inform you that the Autocracy is once again a member nation of the Strategic Alliance of Autocratic States. The original choice to withdraw was made at a time when, due to his failing health, the decision making ability of the previous leader was questionable at best. And it was not a decision made in the best interests of this nation. Fortunately, after talks between his Excellency the Autokrator and Lady Protector Viannor, it is a mistake that has finally been rectified.”
He sat back down. Bernaka replaced him at the podium.
“Thank you Minister. Ok ladies and gentlemen, questions?” |
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Hypocria Attempts Re-Entry
Vyntra back partying with the big boys
It was all because Drax was ill. That was the excuse coming out of Hypocrium last night as Autokrator Andrius Vyntra re-entered his nation into the Strategic Alliance of Autocratic States. The Strategic Alliance is back up to five members now, what with the cessation of government rule in Nova Roma, and things are beginning to look rosey again.
Indeed, many new deals are sure to be done thanks to Hypocria's sudden, though not out of character, about face in its international policies. This is the first nation to be a member of Strategic Defence League, Strategic Alliance and even the boy-band wannabes that are ASPIRE, don't forget. Whether its wargear, trade concessions or information 'sharing', Hypocria's price of re-entry will not be a light one.
This move, of course, means Starblaydia is once more allied to the Autocracy, and so the list of International Relations has been updated to reflect the situation. |
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