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An Idea Called Porcu
Topic Started: Apr 15 2013, 04:23 PM (1,807 Views)
Porcu
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

From the volumes of Porcu, A Grand History -

"...5 million strong in Sumatra Malanensis (Singapore).

Nearly 10 million in Sinae Australi (Hong Kong & Macau).

Nearly 15% of the population of Quinaranum flooded the streets.

Why and what for?

A call to arms. A demonstration of power.

The above represents only a fraction of those who heeded the call that emanated from the political Left...Whereas the ultra-conservatives had made their presence known earlier with a wave of petty gang violence, the forces of the Left - finally including the trade unions and syndicalist collectives - responded later, though even more powerfully."


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Civitas Alacer was not the first city when one thought of the grand metropolises of the Republic, neither among foreigners nor Porcuians themselves. It was not a center of industrial strength, nor was it a bastion of scientific or technological progress. The city's university was average by Porcuian standards and its public spaces and parks, while stunning, were, again, not internally considered to be sources of pride or prestige. Nonetheless, the city did have a deep history and her people believed themselves to be second to no one. Politically, the city had long been a conservative stronghold, a veritable fort whose defenses were taken for granted due entirely to its longevity.

Which made the scandal all the more enticing, exciting, and surprising.

Unlike, say, Vercellae, Taurinorum, or Capua, Civitas Alacer had never truly been struck by a mass movement or the mobilization of its citizens. Even in the final days of the fascist state - the red hot embers of revolution which spilled from Ariminae could be felt across the Republic - the city and its citizens had remained tranquil and resolute in their passivity. Naturally, the people there desired for a return to democracy, liberty, and peace, but their aloofness solicited mainly suspicion from their fellow countrymen and women, their comrades in arms. Even today, populus civitas alacerus are viewed as half-hearted patriots and egotistical isolationists.

Which, again, made the scandal all the more invigorating.

A whistleblower had published a short series of stories in the local evening post detailing a series of private meetings she had been a party to between members of the Metropolitan legislature and a small group of investors. The initial scandal came in the form of bribery, manifested by direct payments of cash to the legislators in exchange for a relaxing of numerous capital taxes and a proposal to sell-off the city's public internet utility, with compensation promised to legislators after a successful transfer of the utility into private hands. The entity to whom the city's public utility was to be sold was never disclosed, as the whistleblower was never able to surmise its identity. This precipitated an explosion of internet activity on the evening post's website which resulted in overwhelming its servers.

A couple of days after the series was published another person came forward anonymously and revealed that the buying entity was the nebulously named Credit Holding and Investment Group, a nominally Swiss bank whose largest services centered around investment, but included sizable banking and insurance portfolios. The identity of the investors who had met with the handful of legislators of the Metropolitan Assembly was never revealed, though speculation largely reflected the ideological disposition of those who forwarded their own suspicion.

Then, just as the ground had begun to rumble and the usual nonchalance of the city gave way to an unusual indignation, a most spectacular death occurred. At first, the circumstances surrounding the death of a middle-aged woman pointed to innocent tragedy. However, when the woman's identity was revealed to be that of the first whistleblower the warning sirens sounded. The victim had been the personal assistant to one of the legislators previously mentioned and, unfortunately for her, it had only been a matter of time before someone was able to connect the dots back to the source of the original stories in the evening post. The death was ruled a homicide, but the police had no lead on which to follow up.

Her death, however tragic, was not what catalyzed the mobilization of popular will. Instead, it was the release of twenty seconds of video and audio footage recorded with a cellphone which set the city ablaze.

The video in question was captured in the elegant and luxurious villa of the Assemblyman Decimus Alfenius Evodius by one of his domestics as the master of the house spoke with several others regarding the stories in the papers and the growing agitation of the public, and subsequently uploaded onto the internet for all to see. The video, although brief, showed Alfenius Evodius denigrating and insulting the people of Civitas Alacer. It seems that he too had internalized the stereotypical passivity of the city's inhabitants.

Within a couple of hours the assemblyman's villa was surrounded on all sides by those he had insulted. The police were called in to make sure that his property was left intact, but as the hours passed and the night set in the tension boiled over. The crowd had become a mob and stormed the villa in search of its master. Having nowhere to turn, Alfenius Evodius cowered inside a small closet until he was eventually found and pulled out and away from the house, screaming angrily at first and then mercifully. The assemblyman was eventually brought before the main office of the Metropolitan Police where the crowd demanded that the police arrest him immediately. The police, however, had no legal justification to place the assemblyman under arrest and accepted him only out of fear that by turning him away they were effectively sentencing him to death.

Rebutted, the crowd dispersed and vanished.

Tensions, however, remained smoldering. The following morning a "call to arms" was announced by the newly elected leader of the Greens, Nicé Sempronia Gracchus - a day of protest, mass mobilization, and solidarity. The deeply conservative populace of Civitas Alacer obliged. As did people all across Porcu and in the provinces. For several days millions and millions poured into the streets, but for how much long was anyone's guess.
Edited by Porcu, Dec 31 2015, 08:14 PM.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

President Tarquinius Atratinus was not looking forward to his next scheduled appointment. Nonetheless, he remained intrigued, or at least was interested in seeing if his intuition would turn out correct. The President had had a late evening the night before and made sure to shield himself from the intolerably bright light of the morning sun, which resulted in his office being severely under lit for all except for him.

Several minutes before the start, His Majesty King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX was ushered in with exceptional formality and was well received by the tired President. Atratinus stood from behind his desk and the two men greeted each other with a bow and a handshake.

"Pleasure to see you again, Vopiscus Tarquinius." King Decimus Maxentius IX said with a warm smile, his green eyes still clearly visible despite the lack of illumination.

"Likewise, Your Highness."

"Please, no need to be formal. I'm still embarrassed by the deference with which your staff greeted me."

Atratinus had returned to his chair behind his desk and now looked up to the figure across from him. "You are the first in your House in some time to enjoy the popularity you now command."

The King laughed lightly. "I still have trouble wrapping my head around it." There was afterward a pause before the King continued. "Anyway, I was actually not very well informed as to what this meeting is about. I know that several heads of industry are to arrive...Does this regard the ongoing strikes and protests?"

"That...is...my...guess...as...well." President Atratinus said while signing several difference papers. He then capped his pen and gathered the signed sheets together, putting them in a small folder immediately to his left. He again turned his attention to his guest. "It was an urgent request."

"Why do you suspect I was asked here?"

"I don't know, Marcus Decimus."

A quick series of knocks were suddenly heard at the door and a one of the President's chief aides peeked in to announce that the group of business leaders had arrived and were being escorted in. Atratinus rose and joined the King near the enter of the large office, in front of opposing couches, an elegant coffee table, and a couple of other chairs. The President, unsurprisingly, donned a classic, well-made suit that one could tell he had owned for many years but had maintained in excellent condition, whereas the King wore a tighter, expertly tailored suit of the latest style.

The members of the business group were shown inside the President's office and, quite formally, greeted first the President and then the King. All manner of industrial sectors were represented, from automobile production to mining, from finance and banking to agriculture. The formalities were quickly concluded and the President and the King took the two chairs at the head, with the businessmen and women sharing the couches on opposite sides of the centrally placed table. Refreshments had been placed on the table during the greetings and so the meeting was able to commence immediately.

"On behalf of my colleagues and myself, I would like to thank you, Mr. President and Your Majesty, for taking the time to meet with us." the CEO of the gas, oil, and energy conglomerate CCIF stated firmly and with as warm a smile as he could muster.

King Decimus Maxentius IX returned his statement with a smile and a nod, while Atratinus gave no acknowledgement.

"What is the 'urgency' with which you've requested this meeting?" Atratinus said, slicing through any additional formalities. His blunt remark was not well met by many of those gathered.

"You must bring this general strike to an end." the Chairwoman of the Board of Governors of the Bank of Porcu stated with equal bluntness, though with a sort of pleading tone.

"We've lost billions already, Mr. President." the CEO of FIAT added. "Billions of denarii worth of equipment and machinery sit idle..."

"Capital investments are sluggish and confidence is beginning to fall off." another added.

"I am very much aware of all of this." Atratinus responded. His posture signaled distance to his guests and his expression conveyed an aloofness toward their concerns. "I am briefed daily on economic matters."

"Then you must have noticed the recent falls in the stock market?" CCIF CEO remarked.

"Yes."

"And?" he continued, unable to grasp why such unwelcome financial and economic news did not elicit any concern from the President.

"It is simply not within my powers to do anything about it." Atratinus finally said after a moment. "Additionally, I'm not quite sure what sort of actions you envisioned I would be capable of doing."

"Declare a state of emergency!" the Chairwoman of the Bank of Porcu exclaimed.

"This general strike is growing, Mr. President! Nearly every sector of the economy has been impacted." the CEO to a major agribusiness added. "You have got to stop this and get industry going again."

"I'm sorry to interrupt..." King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX said, raising his hand slightly so that he could quickly get everyone's attention. "Why was I invited here?"

"We had hoped that you and the President would together call for an end to the general strike." the CEO of the chemicals and pharmaceuticals conglomerate IGL said.

"You, Your Majesty, are a source of identity and leadership for many Porcuians..." the CCIF CEO began, which immediately caught the attention of Atratinus, "as well as a voice of reason. You do care about Porcu, yes?"

"Of course." the King quickly replied. "But..."

"Then you should note that if this strike continues then the country will face some serious economic difficulties."

Atratinus had been stunned by the open, laudatory remarks of the CCIF's CEO.

"Such volatility within the markets will not help the Republic should she be faced by an aggressive Austria or Russia." the CEO of FIAT added. "This general strike instigated by Nicé Sempronia Gracchus will quickly come to impact the Republic's defensive capabilities."

The discussion, or rather the pleading, continued for some time. However, President Atratinus never gave his explicit support. Furthermore, the business leaders were unable to obtain the King's participation. The group of powerful and rich individuals left with a heavy cloud of frustration hanging over them. Porcuian law left them with few legal avenues of recourse, as labour laws were heavily favored for workers.

Whereas some left the President's office in despair and uncertainty about their future, others strolled out into Forum and took note of the rather lovely morning which greeted them. These latter individuals would come to converge on a plan of action, determined to shape the future themselves rather than be observing pawns.
Edited by Porcu, Jan 18 2016, 11:27 PM.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

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The square was dedicated in honor of the Porcuian victory against an ancient Swedish tribe that had warred on-and-off with Porcu for a couple of centuries in the early history of the country. In 1003 CE, the young republican nation was faced with its most serious threat. Despite having expanded its territory peacefully to the north and the south following the coastline through a series of marriages and familial unions between the Porcuians and the tribal natives, the interior of the Ariminae Valley had remained terra inconcessus. Border skirmishes were relatively common and when several attempts at replicating the strategy of territorial expansion via peaceful intermarriage failed the static and fixed border to the West was accepted as final.

Then, in the ripe period of a pregnant spring, the young Republic was overrun. The indigenous tribe was part of the Scylfings clan, whose domains stretched across coastal Sweden, and after having watched the Porcuians settle and expand for several centuries had come to the decision that a clash of fates was unavoidable. So, a massive army was formed in order to drive the Roman settlers, now ethnically distinct as Porcuians, into the Baltic Sea.

The histories written then and since credit a single man, a young general of unparalleled skill and genius, as having saved the Republic. The Battle of Munaria, named after a nearby village which has long since disappeared, secured victory in the war for the Porcuians and elevated the young Quintus Servilius Ahala to demi-god status. The general would claim the consulship ten times and would come to be regarded as one of the finest Porcuians to have lived.

«Munaria Square» in the Porcuian capital of Ariminae was one of many tributes to the general. One hundred years later, in celebration of the Republic's victory a temple was built across from the square. Within the The Temple of the Republic stood a stunning gold and marble statue of the personified Republic. She would gaze out from her temple and lock eyes with the savior she had bred, nursed, and nurtured - forever grateful and proud.

From one of the private offices overlooking the square, and in the direction of the Temple, Servius Aemilius Cesca gazed out of the window and nervously bit his lip.

"What if this doesn't work?" he wondered.

Publius Vibius Pansa, the Chairman of the Communist League and General-Secretary of the Communist Party was seated nearby, relaxing and reading the newspaper. The young man was immaculately dressed. Despite the seriousness and inherent pressure of the forthcoming meeting, Vibius Pansa seemed totally in control.

A knock came at the door. The final individual for the meeting had arrived.

Aemilius Cesca moved away from the window and stood beside a chair adjacent to the communist leader. The pair did not have to wait long as Nicé Sempronia Gracchus walked in soon after. The dark skinned and elegant young woman entered and exchanged polite bows and handshakes with the two well-established political figures. She seated herself and waited for either of the two gentlemen to begin.

"We want to thank you, Sempronia Gracchus, for accepting our invitation." Vibius Pansa said. He remained comfortably seated, his legs crossed at the knee.

"My pleasure, Vibius Pansa." Sempronia Gracchus replied. "However, I am extremely busy, as you can imagine, and hoped we could talk seriously."

"Of course..." Aemilius Cesca replied. He returned a genuine smile.

"Sempronia Gracchus, what do you see as the goal of the Greens?" Vibius Pansa asked.

"Specifically, a restoration to original principles. Generally, electoral victory."

Aemilius Cesca nodded his head. "In short, we would like to assist with the latter."

The Green party leader was confused. "Why? I have no need of your assistance."

"Your party's current electoral position is envious, yes," Vibius Pansa began, "but it remains to be seen whether it will hold in the coming weeks."

"Porcuians are tired of your politics, Vibius Pansa. The Republic has had a Communist-led parliament for years and seen little in the way of social, economic, or political justice." Sempronia Gracchus replied forcefully.

"The electoral landscape has changed, Sempronia Gracchus." Aemilius Cesca replied.

Her eyes sparkled and burned. "And where were the socialists? Hmm, Aemilius Cesca? Where were the so-called protectors of the working class when the Republic expanded and so too did her power, except that the power and wealth acquired were kept in the hands of the privileged?"

"Don't lecture me on..." Vibius Pansa replied, his temper begin to ignite.

"I will, Vibius Pansa, you faux communist, as that is all that I have heard while touring the Republic. From Savannah to Avaricum to Ameria, all I have heard is disappointment and all I have felt is frustration from those I have met. For years the people have placed their trust in you and have been rewarded with declining living standards, devastating wars, and an uncertain future. You communists and socialists have done nothing - nothing! I will not accept your tainted olive branch!"

Sempronia Gracchus swiftly stood and motioned to exit. Aemilius Cesca's reply made her stop.

"You're right."

She turned around slightly, unsure and undecided about what to do next. Gazing at the Socialist Party General-Secretary, Sempronia Gracchus saw that he was...repentant. Looking at him now it was difficult to believe. Aemilius Cesca was dressed in the finest tailored suit money could buy.

"You're absolutely right." he repeated.

"Which is why we invited you here." Vibius Pansa added in a low, calm tone.

"You see, I too have broken away from my office and talked with tried and true, veteran socialists." Aemilius Cesca continued. "Most will not support me nor the party they had called their own for so long. They plan on voting for you."

"Good." Sempronia Gracchus said, motioning to the door once again. "I hope you won't prove to be too much of an obstacle in Parliament."

"We don't plan on stopping them." Vibius Pansa replied.

Again, Sempronia Gracchus stopped. This time she turned completely and faced the two veteran political heavyweights. She couldn't trust her eyes. They appeared broken men to her. "I'm sorry, I'm confused."

Aemilius Cesca smiled. "We want to start again."

"No one will take you seriously." she replied.

"Again, which is why we've asked you here. We hoped you would be able to help."

Sempronia Gracchus thought for a moment. "You've already formed a coalition, haven't you? And you want me to provide legitimacy?"

"The coalition is not official." Vibius Pansa said. "However, you are otherwise correct."

"No, again, I won't do it. You've betrayed the trust placed upon you and now, now that you see the end of your path, you grovel and beg to me?"

"This isn't just about us, Sempronia Gracchus..." Aemilius Cesca replied. "You haven't been the only one to experience a meteoric rise."

"Who?" she asked. "Tricostus Caeliomontanus?"

"Their numbers have risen, proportionally, faster than yours." Vibius Pansa stated.

"We can draw an easy distinction for the electorate." Aemilius Cesca added.

"Left and Right..." Sempronia Gracchus said under her breath. "You overestimate them."

"And you underestimate them." Vibius Pansa declared forcefully.

She shook her head. "No, this is just more of your plan to help me salvage your sinking ship." Before finally exiting the elegant office the Green Chairwoman cautioned the two gentlemen, "I wouldn't fight too hard against your retirement, or else it may become permanent."

Vibius Pansa and Aemilius Cesca remained alone. The plan had completely failed.

"Servius..." Vibius Pansa said as he noticed a distant gaze in Aemilius Cesca's face. The socialist's eyes were blank.

"Do you know why I joined the Socialist Party, Publius?"

The communist leader shook his head.

Aemilius Cesca turned and looked directly at Vibius Pansa. "Neither do I...I cannot remember."
Edited by Porcu, May 17 2016, 09:23 PM.
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The electoral campaign had officially arrived to the white, hot, and picturesque shores of Polinesium several weeks before with the Liberal and Democratic Reformist Bloc candidate for the presidency. Per usual, a substandard speech was given to a partly empty auditorium in the capital of Boreanorum before a breezy tour of several islands was provided, allowing the press several photo opportunities with the candidate and the aboriginal population. Little actual interaction took place between the candidate and members of the public.

Today had been a different story. The province leaned left historically and had overwhelmingly supported the Socialist Party and her parliamentary electoral group, Progressive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats, in the last few general elections. Enthusiasm had waned considerably since that time, however, and it was unknown how the province would vote in the rapidly upcoming election. It seemed as if all the other parties had gained ground at the expense of the socialists.

Enter Servius Aemilius Cesca. The socialist leader was out on an extensive tour of the often overlooked paradisiacal ‎island chain, while his partner and colleague was presently in the province of Araucanía. Both Aemilius Cesca and Vibius Pansa were buoyed by recent polls suggesting that their gamble (joining forces in a common Left program) could pay off - the «United Left Front» had closed the gap with the Greens, who nonetheless were still leading by a healthy margin. Aemilius Cesca had spent the better part of that day wandering through the capital and speaking with anyone who would take the time to do so. He was not surprised by what he heard; dissatisfaction, resentment, and disbelief summarized a vast majority of sentiments expressed. There were moments of hope and of laughter, but they were few and far between. A day of such activity had worn down the socialist leader so that when a nearby clock tower signaled the close of the market and the beginning of the night he very nearly collapsed.

Aemilius Cesca was staying at a modest inn, on his own expense, near the city center. He proceeded to unwind upon returning to his room, taking a long, cleansing shower and settling himself in a chair with the latest memos and notes of that day from his staff. It wasn't too long after that a strong knock came at the door. The socialist leader's security detail snapped to attention and cleared the messenger from the front desk, allowing him to enter. The young man of modest height, tanned skin, and aboriginal features handed over a small, folded note.

I hope you'll join me at the villa tonight. - Lucius Aemilius

Aemilius Cesca thanked the hotel messenger before loudly groaning after he had left the room. A late visit to his cousin's was neither on the agenda, nor looked forward to. Nonetheless, he understood when social obligations were expected to be met. He quickly changed into a suit and provided the address where he was to be taken. In a few minutes the car was pulled around and Aemilius Cesca was off.

. . .

The private villa of Lucius Aemilius Paullus overlooked the southwestern portion of the main island. It was one of many that the paterfamilias owned, scattered as they were around the globe, but its view was unparalleled. The steep and lush hills descended precipitously towards the cool ocean and one could see the faint outlines of surrounding islands if one forced themselves. The air was pleasant and the approaching night came tranquilly. From a balcony wedged out from the green surroundings sat Lucius Aemilius Paullus.

A strong drink, as per usual, remained close to the aged and obese gentleman. Having gained an unfathomable amount of wealth in his younger years, the eldest of the Aemilii Paulii had turned to politics as a means of keeping himself occupied. This change occurred just as the esteemed Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus was maneuvering himself to the presidency. Aemilius Paullus had gone on to serve as Censor twice, his most recent term having ended only the other year. While he had considered a provincial governorship, he had declined out of respect for the «traditional hierarchy of ascent». Now, the wealthy elder had precious little to do other than thinking about politics. The latest electoral cycle was particularly unsettling to him. Something needed to be done.

Aemilius Paullus' thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his cousin, the Socialist Party leader. Struggling to stand, the elderly paterfamilias motioned to greet his cousin with kisses on the cheek and a healthy embrace. Despite their obvious political and ideological differences, family was family.

"Thank you for stopping by. I was beginning to worry that you had not received my note." Aemilius Paullus said, settling back into his seat.

"Think nothing of it. I'm eager to hear what's on your mind."

A servant brought the (relatively) younger man a glass of cognac from the Scottish Highlands before disappearing from the balcony, leaving the two alone with only the incredible view of stars canvassed across the sky. Aemilius Paullus smiled as Aemilius Cesca sniffed at his drink and took a drink.

"Fine stuff, ne?"

The socialist leader let out a slow moan and nodded his head. The cognac was, indeed, a wonderful treat.

"So, patrii filius..." Aemilius Paullus began, slowly swirling his own drink, "How is the campaign going? Recent polls should excite you."

"They do, very much. This campaign is different than the others; it's less predicable as the public has begun to shift dramatically."

"Let me be frank with you, Servius Aemilius. Are you and Vibius Pansa serious about your designs and joint platform?"

Aemilius Cesca did not immediately answer. Instead he gazed across at his cousin and allowed himself to understand where the conversation was going. "You're genuinely worried..."

"I feel a change in the air. I don't think you and Vibius Pansa will win, but the public conversation is changing. I just want to know if you are discovering your inner Marxist or if this is just a way to diffuse Sempronia Gracchus." Aemilius Paullus said with a deathly tone of seriousness.

"I believe everything that I've said and stand by it." Aemilius Cesca replied in kind.

The elderly, obese gentleman sighed heavily. He took a long drink and finished his glass before calling for his servant. He continued while his glass was refilled. "Why now? You've done so well, Servius Aemilius. You have fame, prestige, and power. You have given legitimacy and gravitas to the Aemilii Cescii. Why throw that away on useless theories and on people with whom you have nothing in common?"

"I'm not throwing anything away and I'm doing what I'm doing now because I can still make a difference for those millions of people who previously put their trust in me."

"Do you think that actually matters!?" Aemilius Paullus roared. He was beginning to get animated. "You were once an idealist - you were young so it was understandable. But you made peace with the powers that be and came to be rewarded."

"I lost track of what was important to me and the motivating factors for my entrance into politics in the first place. I cannot undue my previous actions, of turning my back on those who entrusted me to follow through with my promises, but I can correct myself moving forward."

"Don't be foolish...Accommodation has brought you and the Socialist Party respectability..."

"That accommodation has resulted in immiseration and poverty for millions. I was content for a long time by keeping to Ariminae, Patavium, Taurinorum, and the like. There Capital reigns. It's a fog. Here the air is clear and it's impossible not to see how people's lives have been changed."

"It's your 'comrades' in Parliament who brought these changes about!" Aemilius Paullus yelled. "The Republic was growing and prosperous, her influence expanded across the globe and her people became the beacons of liberty and equality. The Republic was healthy until businesses became the enemy. You have three candidates for the presidency calling for the abolition of private business!"

"Which means an expansion of liberty and democracy to the economic sphere!"

"Which means the destruction of a part of what makes the Republic great and proud." Aemilius Paullus growled in a low voice. He took another large drink. "How will our interests overseas be protected? You are sowing chaos and division among Porcuians."

"That is absolutely not what I am doing." Aemilius Cesca replied, sitting straight up in his chair. He paused for a moment to look at the man directly opposite him. "Why did you ask me here?"

"To see if I have to step in."
Edited by Porcu, May 25 2016, 09:37 PM.
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Regia Accalia, Ariminae, Porcu

Seven days. That was all that remained of the general election campaign, all that separated the will of the people - their verdict - from being exercised. Porcuians, unsurprisingly, took this charge rather seriously, but few could recall an electoral campaign like this one. Of course, that was said about every electoral campaign. Some, however, did feel that this cycle was different. They could sense it; they could smell it.

Tonight decided not about that. It was not a night whose center was the coming parliamentary and presidential election. Yet, try as one might one could never quite escape politics. Such was being Porcuian.

King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX was brought out of his trance by a light squeeze of his arm. The jewel of his life, his companion and friend, stood calmly next to him. She gazed at him with a reassuring look.

"No need to be nervous." the Queen said. Claudia Junia Cato had entered into the Porcuian Royal Family recently, in a quiet affair that garnered little public attention. Truth be told, the small, intimate wedding was purposefully organized and events such as the one this evening were the first general introduction of the new Queen to the powerbrokers of the Republic.

"I was thinking of other things..." the King replied. His face betrayed an underlying worry. "Things just seem to be moving quickly." He smiled softly at Junia Cato in an attempt to calm her.

Invitations were plentiful for the evening's festivities and the royal residence was hosting a rather large gathering of parliamentarians, Scandinavian royalty, and family friends of the Maxentii. Baroque music softly echoed off the walls and waiters and waitresses skillfully maneuvered between the pods of individuals which dotted the hall. Conversation was as varied as the individuals and while little mixing between the various groups had occurred yet it was hoped that as the evening and night wore on - and the food and drinks continued to be supplied - that would be remedied.

The Royal couple was interrupted by a familiar, if unsettling, individual.

"Praesidis..." King Marcus Decimus said. "Thank you for accepting our invitation. Let me introduce you to my wife, Claudia Junia Cato."

The Queen smiled widely and gave a short bow and was very pleased to find Tarquinius Atratinus reciprocating. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Tarquinius Atratinus."

"Please, Your Majesty, Vopiscus Tarquinius." Atratinus replied. "I was speaking with your father just now. Your lineage is impressive indeed."

The young Queen blushed. "You are most kind."

"Any regrets on not seeking the presidency again, Vopiscus Tarquinius?" the King asked.

The President adjusted his glasses and thought for a moment before answering. "No...I have a sense that my services for the Republic will no longer be needed."

"Come now! I know you to be an extremely capable individual. Surely, I can count on seeing you around the Forum in the future? Perhaps as Censor..."

Atratinus smiled, but it was not genuine. It betrayed an underlying melancholy. The Queen felt a slight chill when she noticed this in Atratinus' expression. "No, I rather think it will be you to whom the Republic will turn."

The President concluded their conversation by congratulating the couple on their marriage and wishing the best for them. No sooner had he left than an elderly man appeared. "What a character!"

The elderly man was none other than Carl XVI King of Sweden, father of the current Queen of Porcu. His sudden appearance after Atratinus' departure caught the two young Royals off guard. "I couldn't shake a sense of nervousness the entire time I was speaking to him."

"He does often have that effect." Marcus Decimus IX said, gazing off in the direction that Atratinus had left in order to make sure that he was truly out of sight and out of earshot.

"I get the sense that he is a tormented soul." Junia Cato replied. "Whatever happened to him?"

"The only person known to have even an inkling of an idea is the former leader of the Republic's now despised enemy, Austria." Marcus Decimus IX said.

"And where is this gentleman now?" Carl XVI asked.

"I don't know. He escaped from Austria during the Archduke's coup d'état and has since disappeared."

There was a momentary pause in the conversation before the Swedish monarch said gravely, "Is he still a virgin?"

The Queen reddened in embarrassment and the King roared, almost spilling his champagne. This outburst drew the attention of those immediately surrounding the three royals, yet all returned to normal quickly enough. The Swedish King's question wouldn't be answered, however, because Queen Junia Cato's presence was requested by a group of parliamentarians, comprised chiefly of communists. None other than the Communist Party leader himself approached the three royals to request a conversation with the Queen. Anxiously, the Queen accepted and was escorted across the hall to a small group. Her Highness' anxiety melted away immediately when Vibius Pansa's domestic partner leaped out from behind the group and began to fawn over her. Extremely embarrassed by his partner's behavior, Vibius Pansa tried to control him but was unsuccessful.

Back across the hall, the two Kings stood alone.

"I want to thank you, Marcus Decimus." the Swedish King said.

"For what?"

"For giving light and laughter to my daughter. I've never seen her happier than she's been these past few weeks."

"She gives me the same. I thank God everyday for showing me to her." Marcus Decimus IX beamed.

"You are a good and kind man, and you will be a strong King not only for your people but also for mine and the whole of Scandinavia. You are now bound to my people and I thank God for blessing my family and my people with a tempered, capable, and intelligent son."

"You are very kind, but your own son is next in line."

Carl XVI scowled. "He is not fit to lead a flock of sheep, let alone ascend the thrones of Sweden and Norway. No, when I pass on you will inherit my titles and my claims." When the Swedish monarch saw the look of surprise on the Porcuian's face he continued, "I have already spoken to the Noble Councils and they have agreed to recognize your claim to the title of King of Sweden and King of Norway. The Danes are proving more difficult to convince, but I'm confident they will come around."

Marcus Decimus IX was speechless. "When were you planning on informing me of this decision of yours?"

"I wanted to wait until after the wedding. I've known you for several years now and your personality and temperament has never changed. I wanted to make sure that you were truly who you appeared to be." Carl XVI laughed. "You're better than my own son, by God. I couldn't leave this Earth in peace knowing that...child...was King."

Marcus Decimus IX wished to speak but could not produce in his mind the words he wanted to say. The issue, from his perspective, would be a complicated affair. Moreover, what was Parliament's reaction going to be? The Porcuian King was an exalted and celebrated civilian - it was likely that any advantage the House of Maxentii gained would be legislated away by Parliament. As was their legal right. Still...
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

A frigid morning greeted the capital city of the Porcuian Republic on the day of its general election. The sun had only begun to break free of the horizon yet the streets were filled with activity. The day dedicated to choosing a new government had always been a solemn day for the people of Porcu, but it was only recently - an idea and subsequent legislation - that the day was declared a national holiday, a day of general rest when only the most vital of services carried on.

Despite the heat radiating from a fireplace on an adjacent wall, Spurius Tricostus Caeliomontanus could feel the bite of the cold from outside as he stood by the window. His rather lavish apartment was located many floors up on an island straddling the southern edge of the capital. On a clear day, especially at night, the apartment had an unobstructed view of the Forum, the Regia Accalia, the business and finance district to the West, and nearly the whole of Ariminae. He often spent hours in this room, which served as his work space, and simply gazed out at the city he had called home for his entire life. Tricostus Caeliomontanus, leader of the ultra-conservative, ultra-nationalist National Coalition for the Defense of the Republic, abbreviated simply to the "National Coalition", breathed deeply as he heard footsteps approaching from behind him. He didn't turn around when they stopped or even when he was addressed.

"Domine, the Captains have readied their respective groups. They await your command."

"Lucius Meridius, you may inform them that they are to commence 'Project Lucretia'. We will cleanse the Republic of the tyrants which defile her. Better to die a thousand deaths then sit by and allow the tyrants' abuses to continue."

The imposing figure opposite Tricostus Caeliomontanus smiled. He quickly bowed and departed. The parliamentary leader, however, continued to gaze outside. He knew that much blood would be shed, much of it innocent but also much of it deserved.

"By God, I will see the Republic free. She has been chained for too long, but the world will soon acknowledge the glory that is due to Her." he thought to himself.

- - -

Outskirts of Ariminae, Near the City of Ad Turres, Metropolitan Area of Ariminae

A small van came to a halt in front of a school building where local polling for the general parliamentary and presidential elections was taking place. The polling place had already been open for a few hours and had in that time hosted a large number of people. Things were progressing smoothly, just as with previous election days.

Five figures, hooded and masculine in physique, walked determinedly into the school and fanned out. The few individuals who sensed something was amiss took the one opportunity they had and fled. They would be the lucky ones - or perhaps not, for their 'desertion' would come to haunt them for the rest of their lives. The five figures simultaneously withdrew rifles and pistols from underneath their winter jackets and, in an instant, commanded the attention of the several hundred people present in the school's gymnasium.

"Who here cast their ballot for the Communists, Socialists, or the Greens?" the central hooded figure asked the crowd. Receiving no immediate response, the figure unloaded a few rounds from his rifle into the ceiling. The question was repeated, this time with venom. Again, no reply. A sigh. "Marcus, what are the most current polling figures for the Communists, Socialists, and Greens?"

Another hooded figure, located near one of the walls of the gymnasium, replied, "The Communists sit at 19%, the Socialists at 22%, and the Greens at 24%, Captain."

"That...makes...what? 65% Let's be generous and round up to 70%"

The hooded figures then counted off the individuals in the crowd in their vicinity, pulling aside 7 out of every 10. Several individuals at this time attempted to call or text their families or the authorities only to discover that the signal to their cellphones was being actively disrupted. One unfortunate man was caught and singled out. A young woman who had been dragged aside as one of the 7 in 10, now was pulled away and replaced by the man. There were a number of people who tried to run for the exits but were cut down as they fled. Three of the hooded figures corralled the majority of the people in the gymnasium before standing opposite them. The leader removed the hood to his jacket and the mask which shielded his face. He was older and carried the gravitas of a soldier. He voice rang deep as he delivered his judgement.

"The tyranny which plagues the Republic, cultivated from within, ends today. On behalf of the Republic, I sentence you to death so that she may be cleansed. You and the other vile creatures which desire to keep the Republic chained and weak will no longer burden Her."

"I'm a registered Conservative!" a woman shouted from the crowd. The terror and fear in her voice rippling through the gymnasium.

"Your passivity and cowardliness is also to be removed. The Republic will be free; Her justice will be absolute."

- - -

That scene, that horrendous sight of blood and terror, was not localized to Ad Turres. Neither was it localized to Ariminae, nor to Porcu proper. That scene was repeated throughout the territories, provinces, and metropolitan areas of the Republic in different iterations. Bands of hooded figures in Narvik, for example, roamed the streets and murdered anyone caught to have a party identification card with the Communist Party, the Socialist Party, or the Federation of the Greens. In the Vulso Islands, the party headquarters of the three respective parties were set ablaze and those who managed to escape the fire were greeted with semi-automatic machine gun fire. In Americae Orientalis, the ugly head of the Confederacy rose from the dead to terrorize the Black and Native American communities, communities which had made immense strides under the Porcuian banner. In Charleston alone fifty black men were strung up by their necks on light posts and lined the central, major artery of the downtown metropolis.

The violence was not one-sided. Many of the marauding groups eventually encountered other sets of armed citizenry. Decidedly unprofessional, the latter were easily identified by solid-colored handkerchiefs tied to their arm. Sporting clubs, bats, Molotov's, and the occasional firearm, the anarchists fought back. Many swelled with pride at - finally! - having a chance at the fascists which only served to poison their dreams of a better, more perfect Republic. Lucius Appuleius Saturninus was positively ecstatic as he held his band of radicals through the streets of Patavium on that cold winter day. This was their moment! In one fell swoop, the institutions of the State would be uprooted and the evil machinations of the Forum, commanded by Capital, would end.

Appuleius Saturninus would not live to see his dream blossom. Ironically, he would die on the steps of the Treasury.

- - -

Presidential Residence, the Forum, Ariminae

President Tarquinius Atratinus simply could not read through the intelligence and police reports quickly enough to keep pace. Despite his absolute preference to read them himself, he eventually delegated the task of reading the reports aloud to one of his assistants. He sat in his office, at his desk, with his eyes closed. To open them would mean following the flow of individuals moving into and out of the office and that only made him nauseous. Nearby and at his disposal were the Chief of the Metropolitan Police, the Commander of the National Gendarmerie, both Censors and Consuls of the Republic, the Praetor Cornelius Sulla Felix (who chairs the Parliamentary Commission on Defense), a handful of senior military commanders, and the King himself.

The Forum had been officially secured by the Gendarmerie and units of Legio I Quirinius several hours ago, but the situation beyond the marble columns and stone streets continued to deteriorate. Emergency provisions were pushed - had been pushed - but Atratinus did not sign-off. Underneath the reasons he gave in support of his decision he could not shake a feeling deep within him. This was necessary.

"Domine, my lieutenants inform me that the Saxa district has been secured." the Commander of the National Gendarmerie stated to President Tarquinius Atratinus directly.

The President thanked the Commander while slowly massaging the bridge of his nose where the marks of his glasses had imprinted his skin. A few moments later he pushed his glasses back into place and opened his eyes to survey his office. Commotion amid an organized chaos. Assistants and security officials moved back and forth, in and out, without pause. And somehow the kitchen and domestic staff of the residence were able to provide a continuous supply of snacks and refreshments. President Atratinus rose from his seat and walked over to the large window that provided the only means for natural light to enter the office. As he gazed out at the burning city he had managed to conquer he made a mental note to have more windows installed after this ordeal came to an end.

Suddenly, the sound of broken glass drew the attention of everyone in the room toward the window. Atratinus lay on the floor, on his back. The bullet wound to his abdomen quickly marked its location as blood stained his shirt and began to pool beneath him.

Now there was panic.

Under the immediate guidance of the Consul Servius Aemilius Cesca, the senior military and political figures were evacuated from the President's office, eventually to be moved underground to the secret labyrinth which lay beneath the Forum. The solitary figure that remained was the King, who instead made for the President. Marcus Decimus IX didn't manage to see Atratinus up close as he was dragged away by members of the President's security detail. Two secret service members forced the King out of the Office while another three attended to the wounded Atratinus. The President was stabilized well enough that by the time doctors were able to attend to the President he still had not lost consciousness. Although he had been forced from the Office, the King demanded to return - a demand which struck the secret service members as odd, almost as if Atratinus were the King and Marcus Decimus were the subject. When Marcus Decimus IX stood over Atratinus he could almost see his life slowly leaving him. The President's skin was beaded in sweat and the color was drained from his face.

"Will he live?" the King asked, although he did not expect a reply from the physicians urgently working at his feet.

"He may..." came the single response.

"Can he be moved?" a secret service guard asked.

"Not at the moment, but we will certainly need to get him to higher care soon."

Marcus Decimus IX felt a pressure on his hand and shifted to find Atratinus grabbing onto him. If there was ever fear in those cool, grey orbs of his then it had come and gone without a trace. The King saw the eyes of a man who knew that the Fates had finally drawn his thread.

Soon enough the physicians felt it appropriate to move the President to a room on the lower level of the residence. Because of the volatility outside of the Forum and the risks inherent in moving the President to a nearby hospital the team of doctors decided to order all necessary equipment be brought to them. Atratinus was made comfortable on a long, flat couch resembling a triclinium. The few emergency medical supplies available to the doctors were utilized in further stabilizing the President. Fluids were of the utmost importance, and they were being fetched, but the doctors worked with the two bags of isotonic saline at their disposal.

Marcus Decimus IX sat on another flat couch adjacent to Atratinus and watched silently as an IV drip was set up. He saw Atratinus' eyes slowly open and close and felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of witnessing the slow, painful death of the President. Then,

"M-M-Marcus Decimus..." a weak voice called out.

The King immediately sat up and refocused on Atratinus. "Yes, Vopiscus Tarquinius?! What is it?"

"You are a man of God, yes?"

"I have faith, yes."

"Do you suppose God will let me enter Heaven?"

Marcus Decimus IX froze at the question. "I...I don't know. I'm not a religious authority, Vopiscus Tarquinius." The two sat in silence for a minute. Three secret service agents stood nearby and watched the interaction closely, but did not seem privy to the conversation. The King continued, "I was under the impression you are a non-believer."

"Yes, yes, of course." Atratinus replied in between heavy breathes. "Just wishful thinking is all."

"What has this country come to?" the King asked rhetorically.

Sharp breaths from the President drew the King's attention. Tears began to stream down Atratinus' face and it was clear he was fighting to maintain his composure. "I've failed. I've failed, Marcus Decimus."

"Failed? Failed at what?"

The question would not have a reply as the King was pushed aside by the team of doctors who were checking up on Atratinus. They were visibly relieved when some secret service agents returned with the medical supplies they had requested at the conclusion of their check-up on the President. More rigorous action was now taken and the doctors went about suturing the entry and exit wounds. Medications were administered through the IV line and within a relatively short period of time Atratinus was able to rest.

The sun had set long ago, a natural consequence of the season and latitude of the capital city of the Republic, and the residence was now only sparsely lit. A message had been forwarded sometime ago to the leaders of the Republic coordinating her continued security and affairs underneath the Forum that Atratinus had survived his wound. Yet, no reply was heard. During this entire time the King never left Atratinus, but a deep fatigue had slowly begun to take hold of the him. Despite his best efforts there were several instances in which the King nodded off, only to awaken suddenly and find the room, Atratinus, and his watchful security detail exactly as they had been before. However, this time was different.

One of the secret service members was new; the King did not immediately recognize his face. When asked directly, the well-built and intimidating officer answered that he had relieved his colleague. Vigilance was critical, so regular shifts were important. Marcus Decimus IX noticed that Atratinus had shifted his position and now gazed directly at the secret service officer. Atratinus' gaze grabbed hold and didn't let go. The King could not look at Atratinus straight on, but could surmise the intensity of his gaze from the reaction of the officer. His physique notwithstanding, his demeanor changes subtly over the course of a few minutes. The seriousness and coolness exhibited before gave way to a rhythmic, nervous tick. He fidgeted and began to sweat along his brow.

The sudden and unexpected arrival of a residential assistant triggered him.

The secret service officer withdrew his pistol and fired on the assistant in one, smooth, and almost imperceptibly quick motion, killing her. Without hesitation, he turned to face the two other secret service members and fell them before they could respond. The rapid succession of shots rang out throughout the residence. No doubt other agents were now alerted. His hand had been forced and curses at Atratinus thundered in his head. King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX had responded by diving off of his couch and now slowly stood to face the secret service officer.

"What have you done?!" the King shouted, his anger finally having been roused.

The officer ignored the King and kept his focus on Atratinus. He raised his gun and pointed it directly at the President. The tension rose as the three remained fixed in place. No additional shot rang out.

"Come now, Lucius Meridius." Atratinus said faintly. "Give it up. You're not coming out of this alive."

"Well, then neither will you." the secret service officer Lucius Meridius Proditorus said while moving to where Atratinus lay. Lucius Meridius grabbed Atratinus against the protests of the King and placed him over his left shoulder. Atratinus screamed in pain as his wound was pressed against the collar of Lucius Meridius. The officer then pointed his gun squarely at Marcus Decimus IX and ordered him to walk ahead. "You'll be joining us, Your Majesty."

Having served for years as a member of the President's security detail, Lucius Meridius had a map of the residence within his mind and easily guided the King through the numerous halls that comprised the Presidential residence. Moreover, he had access to additional security portions. In this way and by having intimate knowledge of his colleagues' tactics and likely course of action he was able to stay one step ahead of his pursuers.

It did not take long for Lucius Meridius to lead the King and Atratinus to an underground garage that housed several vehicles. He approached the nearest motorcar and ordered that the King drive. Atratinus was laid out in the back before Lucius Meridius sat in the passenger seat next to Marcus Decimus IX. Still angry, yet terrified the King obeyed the orders shouted to him and quickly maneuvered the motorcar to the exit. The solid metal gate blocking the entrance and exit slid into the ground once Lucius Meridius provided his access code and identification. Having exited, the King was amazed to find, essentially, a well-maintained road ahead of him.

"Where is this taking us?" Marcus Decimus IX asked.

"We'll have a choice soon enough."

Indeed, within a couple of minutes the motorcar was brought to a halt in front of an intersection. Marcus Decimus IX believed that the elaborate tunnel network exiting from the Forum was connected to exits both within and without the city of Ariminae. Yet, which direction was which was impossible to tell. The lights within the tunnels were not activated and the King didn't know if that was purposeful or not. Lucius Meridius, however, wasted little time in ordering the motorcar forward. "Left."

- - -

Town of Vetulonium, Outside of Vercellae, Western Porcu

A singular tunnel which originated from underneath the Presidential residence had its terminus in the lush forests which lay just outside the metropolis of Vercellae. These forests, of ancient origin, also acted as part of the border between Porcu and Free Sweden. Atratinus knew these forests well.

The long drive from Ariminae to the edge of the forest adjacent to the town of Vetulonium had imposed communications silence on Lucius Meridius. Now, finally, back at the surface he called his leader for guidance after having ordered the motorcar to a halt.

"Lucius Meridius, you have exactly 40 seconds to explain yourself. My communications are likely being monitored. Where are you? Did you kidnap Tarquinius Atratinus and His Majesty?"

"Domine, I can explain."

"There is no time. Answer my questions."

"The President and the King are with me; we are near Vetulonium. Domine, I don't know what to do."

"Have you lost your goddamn mind, Lucius Meridius! How can you be so fucking stupid!"

"Domine, forgive me!"

"Forget it...We can never speak again. You have crossed the Rubicon and success now depends on your total commitment. You know what must be done, Lucius Meridius."

"For the Republic..." Lucius Meridius said, his voice heavy and its tone melancholic.

"Her justice will be absolute." came the response. A flat dial tone then came from the receiver and Lucius Meridius subsequently closed his cell phone.

Marcus Decimus IX had kept still and remained completely silent throughout the conversation. He swallowed in preparation to speak, but was drawn to the faint noise of police sirens that echoed in the distance. Lucius Meridius' pupils widened and his gaze immediately turned toward the approaching sirens. "It must be my phone! They must know it was me and tracked my phone!" His mind began to race and his expression - the way his eyes spoke - made the King's heart beat like mad.

"Get out." Lucius Meridius barked. He shouted it at the top of his lungs when the King didn't immediately comply. The two now stood outside the motorcar. Night had descended and the waning moon provided some light, but not much. "Get Tarquinius Atratinus. Pull him out from the back seat."

"It's freezing out here!" Marcus Decimus IX replied. "He won't survive."

Lucius Meridius stood motionless for a moment before bringing his pistol hard against the King's head. Knocked unconscious, the King was switched for Atratinus. Lucius Meridius then carried the President on his shoulder much like he did before and set off into the forest. The sirens continued to draw close.

Deeper and deeper into the forest Lucius Meridius walked. Thus far, the winter had been light on snow but heavy on the low temperatures. Even now, in the depths of Demeter's sorrow, only a thin coat of snow tiled the landscape. A light snowfall began. It seemed like ages to Lucius Meridius before he decided he had put enough distance between himself and the authorities. He set Atratinus down at the base of a thick tree and took a few moments to remain still, listening intently for any signs that he was close to being found. He then turned to Atratinus. The President seemed a shadow of his former self, even just of earlier that day. His breaths were shallow and it was clear he was exerting himself. Lucius Meridius held his hands, which were chilled to the bone, and placed his hands on Atratinus' chest, which was warm to the touch. His body unable to maintain its own heat, Atratinus was on Death's doorstep.

Lucius Meridius grabbed Atratinus and pulled him away from the tree, forcing him to his knees. Stepping behind the President, Lucius Meridius was suddenly filled with pride. He was ecstatic at being the one to actually, finally, dismiss Atratinus from the world. Domestic political rivals had tried to silence him, to no avail; attempts to assassinate the enigmatic President were also fruitless. Even the mighty Hapsburgs could not bring him down! Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus! No, the honor would fall to the humble Lucius Meridius and he would eventually be remembered for this most heroic deed.

While Lucius Meridius contemplated, Atratinus gazed out at the dark expanse before him. He no longer felt his abdomen burn. There was no pain. The cold, however, he did feel. Set on his knees, the President wrapped himself in his arms and lost track of the fact that Lucius Meridius was behind him. A sudden movement from behind a nearby tree caught his attention and he strained his eyes to focus. A woman, young and exceptionally beautiful, stepped out from behind a tree. She stood before him in a simple dress, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Her eyes caught his and he could no longer contain himself. The tears rolled freely down his cheeks and dropped down into the snow. His gaze remained fixed on the woman before him. She slowly approached and dropped to her knees. They were at eye level and their gazes never deviated.

"Julia...Julia, I am so sorry. I've failed. I've failed you."

"Have you?" the woman replied. Her expression serious, but her voice gentle. Exactly has he remembered it.

"I tried my best to make you proud. I thought if I could make the Republic confident and strong, reflective of the blood within all Porcuians - even a poor man like me - that I could make you proud...That you would forgive me."

"And is the Republic not strong? Is the Republic not on the lips of those half a world away? Does the Republic not cause the Archduke, or the Tsar, or Pope to lose rest?"

"Are you not proud?"

"I am, yes, but that is not the issue. Vopiscus, you need to forgive yourself."

Atratinus lost all control. He dropped his head. His hands squeezed the frozen ground beneath him.

"Vopiscus, you never let me in. All I ever wanted was to stand by your side and to be yours forever."

"As do I!"

"Then forgive yourself. I've always forgiven you." Julia, Atratinus' wife, said. She brought her hand underneath Atratinus' chin and slowly raised his head. Their eyes met again and his heart nearly gave at the sight of her smile. A happiness and joy he had not experienced in many decades washed over him.

Lucius Meridius came out of his dream at this moment and hesitated no longer. He swiftly pulled out his pistol, pressed it firmly against Atratinus' head, and pulled the trigger. A single shot echoed throughout the forest.

Lucius Meridius did not linger to look, and would not likely have been interested in any case, but as he lay there in the snow Atratinus' eyes were of a blue so brilliant and clear and captivating.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

The news of the President's death was only revealed by authorities when the chaos throughout the Republic had been stemmed and the new agencies were impossible to hold-off or dodge. The precise nature of Tarquinius Atratinus' murder was kept completely under wraps for a few weeks by the Gendarmerie and the Republic's central civilian intelligence agency. Details were revealed by the newly elected President, Servius Aemilius Cesca, in a special televised address to the nation and to the world.

The only detail not explicitly mentioned was that Lucius Meridius' body had been discovered a week after Atratinus' assassination well within the territory of the city-states of Free Sweden bordering the Republic to the north-west. He was found disemboweled, in a creek set ablaze by the addition and ignition of petroleum.

In closing his address, President Aemilius Cesca stated that the late-president would receive a state funeral, open to all.

Open Invitation For Dignitaries, Diplomats
and Foreign Heads of State
The Parliament and People of Porcu will hold a state funeral for the late president Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus. The event will be held in Ariminae and is open to any and all foreign dignitaries, diplomats, Heads of Government, and Heads of State, without exception.


OOC: Feel free to post your arrival if you'd like to attend (the more the merrier!). I'll let this sit before moving the funeral along.
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NRE
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman

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Exited from the plane in a plain black dress and hat, President Defar gripped a bit tightly to the ends of her coat as a brisk wind caught her. She'd never been to Porcu and felt it was unfortunate that her first visit should be under such unfortunate circumstances. She'd never had an official opinion of the late President of Porcu though she'd heard rumors of good will and ill. For her, Porcu remained a close ally and friend to the African people of the Federation so there was no cause for duress with her and the Atratinus administration. To pay her respects, even for a man she barely knew personally, was at the very least customary. For the Federation though, this was a matter of consoling a dear friend and keep anew the fire of friendship to which it took great care to preserve.

_________________________________________________________________________

Posted Image

Not farm from where the Federation had landed, along another runway a second plane also landed. Smaller in statue to that the President, but no less refined and carrying far more title was a craft from the Russian Empire. From the plane came the regal and government officer of Prince Boris Ribbenzoph V. Of the Russian Ribbenzophs, the Prince was a cousin of the Emperor and his family held great station within the Russian court. More to the point, he held the official title of General Procurator of the Imperial State Council, the upper house of the Russian parliament. Thus though he was not apart of the Russian monarchy nor his direct government, he was still a Russian of good high station. Russia's attendance was a courtesy really, it had no true love for Atratinus nor the more radical beliefs of Republicanism which Porcu seemed to hold so dear. Indeed, the Emperor had cause on more than one occasion to openly wish for the downfall of Atratinus as he believed he'd put his family in jeopardy once before. Yet at the same time Russia was also pleased with the great peace which it enjoyed with its neighbor to the north despite the suspicions it held against them and did little to purposely jeopardize that peace. Perhaps with Atratinus gone Porcu would not remain as problematic as it had during its more brazen President.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

The northern European coastal city and capital of the Republic seemed poised to benefit from an unusual break in Winter's grasp. President Aemilius Cesca turned his head toward the radiant sun and felt its soft warmth break through the morning chill. Smarty dressed, the President of the Republic was at the airport in order to receive those guests whom Ariminae deemed critical. The other ranking members of the cursus honorum were present to greet regional and world colleagues.

The first guest to arrive that demanded Aemilius Cesca's attention was none other than the President of the Federation of United African Nations. The Federation was still very much considered an indispensable ally for the Republic, despite their relegation in importance under Tarquinius Atratinus. The newly elected President was determined to set things right in that regard.

President Aemilius Cesca warmly greeted President Defar once she descended from the aircraft and formally welcomed her to the Republic. He thanked her for making the trip and was touched by the expression of solidarity during this difficult time. "The Republic is truly fortunate to have a friend and ally in the Federation."

After a brief exchange of pleasantries the Federation President was escorted to a motorcar which would transport her into Ariminae proper.

. . .

Shortly afterward, the aircraft holding Prince Boris Ribbenzoph V came to a halt in front of where President Aemilius Cesca was standing. The Porcuian nervously adjusted his coat before staring straight ahead at the stairs which sat beside the Russian aircraft. The only encounter the President was more nervous for would be with the Austrians, if they decided in the end to accept the open invitation. However, at the moment, he stood firmly in place - determined to greet whomever the Russians had sent with genuinely open arms.
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Rhadamanthus
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Legitimist

Three ministers from the Baltic State arrived to attend the state funeral of Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus. These were the same three men who had first initiated the Baltic State's relations with Porcu, years before. All had aged noticeably since then, and at least one was considering resigning his office. All three hoped that this visit would go more smoothly than that other visit, all those years ago.

Talking amongst themselves as their boat drifted toward the Porcuian coastline, Gregor von Benckendorff, the aged Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Baltic State, and Karl von Stamm, the Minister of War, discussed the particulars of a proposal of German union that had been submitted to them prior to the beginning of the voyage. Quieter, more subdued, the Minister-President, the pater patriae of the Baltic State, Alexander von Wrangel, sat apart from them. He had long been fascinated by Atratinus and was shrouded in melancholy at the thought of the demise of this titan of the modern age.

He was also wistful, thinking of that first, disastrous, trip to Porcu all those years ago, as well as the woman who had long enchanted him.
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Whal
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Mere minutes after the Russians and Baltic Germans landed in Ariminae, two large aircraft entered Porcuian airspace from the south east. Each separated by approximately 12 miles, both aircraft nonetheless carried important dignitaries hailing from the same country, yet of two vastly different missions. Porcuian air-traffic control was quick to identify both crafts as belonging to Austrian Airlines, the state-owned airline of the Austrian Empire. They were also quick to note their points of departure - the first from Vienna unsurprisingly, yet the other from Prague.

From his private cabin inside his luxury liner, Karl von Habsburg brooded intensively as he stared at the Porcuian city from his window. Araminae was a modern metropolis, a jewel of Scandinavia, and a prize that seemed to be too tempting to imagine. Under present circumstances it appeared within reach now more than ever. The titan of Porcu, the Archduke's greatest rival, was dead. While Atratinus' death had been celebrated throughout his empire, the Archduke was rather disappointed over his untimely passing. Karl had hated the man surely, yet even he could not deny he respected the man and his diplomatic skill. That Karl himself had not been involved in Atratinus' death was a sting that he believed would never fade.

The Austrian Archduke's plane landed in the city's international airport with little press coverage, yet the Archduke did not mind. He was quick to hush his travel to Porcu in Vienna and had to remind his closest advisers that his attending of the funeral was merely a chance to witness the new Porcuian political scene firsthand. The Archduke exited the plane surrounded by a small contingent of his personal guard - the Royal Uhlans; preferring to leave the RSD agents who normally accompanied him back in Vienna. Following close behind him, the Foreign Minister, Albert Zaleski walked briskly behind.

In the distance, the Austrians could make out the Russians and Baltic German as they approached what appeared to be the new Porcuian president and his welcome party.

"Shall we?," the Archduke stated flatly, betraying any notions of joy he felt at the political games to come.

----

The second Austrian plane landed shortly after the first. Its single passenger hadn't seen the Republic in many years, yet its appeal had never waned in his heart. Klaus Schlesinger, the exiled former Chancellor of the Federation, had lived reluctantly in the Grand Duchy of Marslava for several years now; working tirelessly to undermine the Austrian Empire in any way he could. While his efforts were mostly overshadowed by the Marslavan elites around him, he continued to champion the cause of his republican allies still in hiding back home in his native Austria.

The death of President Atratinus arrived in Prague on heavy hearts. The Marslavans appeared weaker and weaker every day, while the Austrian Empire stood strong and ready to act upon any signs of decay. The Grand Duchy needed Porcu and more importantly the clout of its most fervent protector. Indeed, without Atratinus many feared what would become of the alliance. For Schlesinger however, the President's death was hardly political. Atratinus and Schlesinger had shared a strangely close relationship for two men who seemed equally at odds. What had passed between them that one night in Vienna years passed was known by few, yet Schlesinger was one of the only men alive who caught of glimpse of the inner workings of Atratinus' mind. Now that he had passed, Schlesinger hoped that by attending his funeral he could achieve some sense of closure for their bizarre relationship.

Schlesinger wrapped himself tightly in his trench coat as he exited the plane and descended the stairs to the tarmac. That he followed but a few 100 feet from the Archduke was of no consequence. He would not let the aging monarch interfere with his mission today.
Edited by Whal, Jun 10 2017, 09:15 AM.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

The arrival of the Baltic German delegation by boat did not surprise Porcuian officials, but made necessary the addition of a detour for their official welcome. Canae Ardea Gularis, recently elected Censor of the Republic, volunteered to meet the delegates at the harbor in person and then to transport them to the airport to be welcomed by the President. The added step complicated matters slightly, but Ardea Gularis smiled as she reflected on the idiosyncrasies of these particular guests. She only hoped that any servant would be better behaved on this occasion, considering its purpose.

The austere boat carrying the Lords von Benckendorff, von Stamm, and von Wrangel arrived without incident and docked in a part of the massive harbor that was slightly hidden and had been made ready for the delegation's arrival. It was a short walk to meet with the Censor, who had been waiting patiently near her motorcar. Ardea Gularis smiled warmly, momentarily taking the three Baltic Germans back to their first visit, and bowed before extending her hand.

"My Lords, it is an honor to welcome you back to the Republic. I hope you will forgive me, but I have been requested by the President to bring you to the airport so that he may welcome you in person. My assistants will see that your servants and any belongings are promptly attended to."

Lord von Wrangel nodded and entered after his colleagues had. The trip to the airport was a short one, yet it allowed those inside the motorcar to converse politely. Ardea Gularis was, largely, exactly how the Baltic Germans remembered her. The time of year naturally forced a more conservative dress, for which the Lords were pleased, yet the Censor was as radiant as ever. She recounted a brief visit to the Baltic States she had made as a member of Parliament in order to better document the cultural and social life of Baltic Germans. Unfortunately, she remembered that the three Lords were not available at the time.

"In any case, I am happy to show you Ariminae. Losing dear Vopiscus Tarquinius was a heavy blow to us here in the Republic. However, you will bear witness to our collective joy and sorrow."

Before long, the motorcar had arrived at a secondary terminal where all foreign dignitaries and diplomats were set to disembark. It was here that President Servius Aemilius Cesca and the other higher ranking members of the Consilium were welcoming new arrivals. Ardea Gularis walked just in front of the three Baltic German ministers and asked them to kindly wait when they discovered that the President was greeting Prince Ribbenzoph. The Porcuian president turned his head and by chance noticed Ardea Gularis and her small group of guests. He beckoned them with a disarming smile and gave a formal introduction for all.

"I was just speaking with His Majesty the Prince about our shared neighbor in the Baltic." President Aemilius Cesca said. "It is a tremendous honor to welcome you gentlemen to Porcu. Please, Ardea Gularis, would you be so kind as to escort these esteemed guests to the beginning of the procession?"

Censor Ardea Gularis bowed in acknowledgement and then guided the Russian Prince and the Baltic German Lords along through the terminal to the train platforms. In very short order there was a lively conversation between the four. Ardea Gularis was happy to listen and observe.

+ + +

Within moments of seeing Prince Ribbenzoph and Ministers von Benckendorff, von Stamm, and von Wrangel off who else would President Aemilius Cesca find before him but the Archduke of the Austrian Empire. The President could see Foreign Minister Zaleski walking on the heels of the Archduke and gave a quick look to a figure to his left. Consul Gaius Julius Caesar moved forward without delay and intercepted the Austrian Foreign Minister. The Royal Uhlans split up accordingly.

"Your Imperial Majesty." President Aemilius Cesca announced when the Archduke was close enough. He bowed ever so slightly - it would seem that only the late Atratinus had the courage, smugness, and rudeness to openly insult the most powerful figures of Europe.

"Praesidis." Karl replied in a tone with much more warmth than Aemilius Cesca had anticipated.

"The Parliament and People of Porcu are honored to host you and the Foreign Minister on this most solemn of occasions. I hope that, at least for the time being, we can set aside our differences to remember the late Vopsicus Tarquinius Atratinus." Aemilius Cesca said.
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
The Austrian monarch regarded the new Porcuian president with a sense of genuine curiosity. While Karl had never met the former consul in person, his underlings had informed him of Cesca's pride and strong sense of duty. Indeed, when Jurgen von Pless had returned from Porcu Proper following the fruitless meeting after the Loki debacle, he had spent several minutes cursing the man's stubbornness and firm backbone. That such a man could follow in the large shadow of Atratinus had been equal parts disturbing and exciting for the Archduke.

What first began as curiosity however, quickly turned to much more familiar feelings for the Austrian leader - disdain, apathy, or disappointment. With a curt bow and olive branch, Cesca had momentarily lost the Archduke's attention. Perhaps, the Republic without Atratinus was lesser? No, perhaps not, Karl thought, but still certainly more boring.

"Yes, I do believe this is possible, Praesidis." Karl replied once Cesca had finished speaking. "Indeed, Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus won't be forgotten any time soon. To imagine the legacy he left in his wake, now that is a challenge for any successor, wouldn't you agree?"

Karl allowed the pressure of Cesca's station weigh in for a moment. He sincerely hoped that the Republic felt the blow of Atratinus' passing heavily, as any leader with such personality would not so easily be replaced. The Austrians would surely stand to pounce on any weakness in Porcu's commitments abroad from a weaker, more cautious leader.

"With so many problems abroad and your list of friends shortening in recent months, I dare say you've got quite the challenge ahead of you." Karl chided, his personal guard standing stoically, enveloping the group. He walked a few feet ahead of Aemilius Cesca before turning again to face him.

"Please, accept my sincerest condolences on the passing of the late president," Karl stated with a slight smugness. "And my congratulations on your rise to the Presidency."
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

President Aemilius Cesca looked across his shoulder and met the Archduke's final reply with a quick bow of his head. The Archduke was off, escorted away by one of the Quaestors who comprised the Consilium. The Royal Uhlans moved effortlessly and it was as if a mist had been lifted from the airport terminal where the Porcuian President and several high-ranking officials waited to greet their guests.

Consul Gaius Julius Caesar returned to the President's side. "An interesting fellow, the Foreign Minister."

A murmur of acknowledgement was all that the Consul received before the two were made aware of another guest approaching. Aemilius Cesca recognized Schlesinger from afar and quietly asked Julius Caesar to return to Ariminae to begin final preparations for the day's events. Schlesinger came to a stop in front of the Porcuian President just as Julius Caesar was rising from a deep bow. The Consul stepped away and quickly began to give orders to his assistants that immediately flocked to his side. President Aemilius Cesca greeted the former Austrian Chancellor with a deep bow.

"Welcome back to Porcu, Herr Schlesinger. We are all honored to have you here, the unfortunate circumstances of this visit notwithstanding." the President began. "We will have time to talk in detail later but, tell me, how are things in Prague?"
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Map Tsar and Southern Gentleman

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Apr 10 2017, 09:25 PM
Shortly afterward, the aircraft holding Prince Boris Ribbenzoph V came to a halt in front of where President Aemilius Cesca was standing. The Porcuian nervously adjusted his coat before staring straight ahead at the stairs which sat beside the Russian aircraft. The only encounter the President was more nervous for would be with the Austrians, if they decided in the end to accept the open invitation. However, at the moment, he stood firmly in place - determined to greet whomever the Russians had sent with genuinely open arms.
OOC: I seemed to have missed an opportune moment that I'd likely to slightly backtrack to if that's ok Porcu. Naturally, this does not have be a long exchange as I imagine there will be other moments to speak during the course of the Funeral.

IC:

Prince Boris exited his craft in general style befitting his regal status. He was after all not only a Prince of the Russian Empire but a pretender to the Imperial Kasnyian throne...if certain persons were to die ahead of him but that was a small formality at least in his eyes. Coming to the end of the stairs and a short walk over he was greeted by the new President of Porcu. He smiled and gave a genuine nod of thanks as Aemilius Cesca bowed slightly and greeted him. "Mr. President the honor is mine as I have never had the pleasure of visit your world-renowned country. On behalf of his Imperial Majesty, Emperor Ivan VIII, his government, and the people of the Russian Empire; I would like to express our deepest condolences to the Republic and its people for their loss. Undoubtedly a man like Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus only happens upon this earth once in several lifetimes and we must feel fortunate to be among those to live to see such a life exist." The President thanked the Prince for his kind words and the two gentlemen discussed brief things before the Prince the saw the opportune time to probe the new President.

"I wonder" said the Prince, "do you think we shall see any from the Baltic State? Russia has not heard from them in some time and we wonder about our neighbors. After all, there are quite a bit of Baltic Germans living in Russia, serving in his Imperial Majesty's court, that worry over their cousins."
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

OOC: No worries, NRE!

IC:

President Aemilius Cesca nodded. "Yes; we received communication from Riga late yesterday evening stating to expect a small Baltic German delegation for the funeral and memorial services of the late President. My understanding is that Lords von Wrangel, von Benckendorff, and von Stamm have made the journey."

Just as Aemilius Cesca finished his sentence he noticed Ardea Gularis and the three Baltic Germans out of the corner of his eye. He immediately called them over, turning as he did so to the Prince. "Ah! Here they are now."

The group chatted lightly for a few minutes before Prince Ribbenzoph and the Baltic German Lords were escorted to an awaiting train that would take everyone into Ariminae.

+ + +

The grand train station of Ariminae, the Gnaeus Manius Capitolinus Augustus train terminal, sat at the northern edge of the capital's centrally located Esquiliae vicus, or neighborhood/district. The train ride to the city centre had been pleasant for all of the guests and had passed by relatively quickly. Despite the cold temperature, the sun was out and provided an unobstructed and magnificent view of the central features of the Porcuian capital and crown jewel. Ariminae's architectural style was often negatively described in tourist guides for its lack of "wholeness" due to its clear and sometimes stark contrast. Yet, it was an utterly unique and charming metropolis. The critiques of professionals notwithstanding, internet forums and travel websites were littered with awed and impressed tourists who appreciated the history behind the city and the impressive architectural marvels it housed.

All the foreign dignitaries and honored guests were led out of the train station and into motorcars which proceeded down the main avenue to the south. In a few short minutes all were gathered inside a modest looking townhouse located several streets to the east of the main avenue. Former Chancellor Schlesinger had been conversing pleasantly with the Federation President when he noticed some activity outside on the street and peered through a window to see a sleek hearse slowly come to a stop in front of the townhouse. Schlesinger looked further up the street to his left and his right and saw the wall of journalists and civilian onlookers which Porcuian security had navigated through.

Within the townhouse, which unknown to most had been the personal residence of the late President, the Heads of State and esteemed diplomats were treated to the finest of Porcuian cuisine. There was little intermingling between individuals beyond the expected, whether out of respect for the solemn occasion, for fear of causing a scene, or simply because of unadulterated disinterest. Archduke Karl pleasantly conversed with the Russian Prince and the Baltic German Lords, while Schlesinger chatted with President Defar. All where enjoying their light snacks and drinks when a knock at the door signaled the entrance of a well-known figure.

Two tall, muscular men entered first and were immediately recognizable by their red cloaks and by the fasces they carried in one arm. Both lictors wore a plain white wool tunic underneath their red cloak, as well as a form-fitting metal chest armor, forearm and shin guards. President Defar was near enough to one to notice that the fasces they carried were made from real materials. The Lictors were a ceremonial unit within the Presidential Guard, but commanded absolute respect as their small membership rested at the pinnacle of dignitas and gravitas within the Republic's special units. To be selected as a lictor was a honor beyond comparison for Porcuians. As the two lictors entered they moved smoothly to either side of the entrance and stared straight ahead as the Porcuian King walked in. His ceremonial dress was also very distinguishable; King Decimus Maxentius IX wore the toga of the Rex sacrorum, dyed with red and purple vertical stripes and the top of his head was covered by several folds of the toga. He struck the foreign dignitaries as immensely regal, despite the rather simple dress.

The position of Rex sacrorum had been kept by the Porcuian Kings as an honor throughout the entire history of the Republic. Since medieval times the duties of the Pontifex maximus were combined with those of the Rex sacrorum and the religious overtones of the position evolved into the purely ceremonial ones of the modern day. The position was not without its own tradition and honor, however, as the wool toga praetexta the King was wearing had originally belonged to his grandfather and had been looked after with the greatest of care over the years. This was the first time that Decimus Maxentius IX donned the toga of the Rex sacrorum and he did his best to set aside the personal feelings which occasionally and suddenly flooded his mind; his father King Julius Decimus Maxentius IV had been denied a state funeral by Parliament and per tradition the monarch only wore and presided over the funeral procession, cremation, and public feast of those afforded state funerals.

The Porcuian King welcomed the honored guests and briefly explained what they could expect over the course of the day. Naturally, each dignitary's chief of staff had been provided with a detailed schedule but now began the first part of the general ceremony, so all were polite. Soon, the Rex sacrorum and the honored guests stepped out from the warmth and comfort of the townhouse into the street. All of the members of the Consilium had arrived in the time that the King had spoken to the group and were now gathered just behind the hearse. Breathing slowly, Archduke Karl gazed around the took note of the cleanliness of the street, the midday winter chill, and the subtle warmth of the sun on his cheek. He looked down the street and saw a wall of people - the same wall that Schlesinger had seen earlier. The flash of cameras went largely unnoticed, but some did raise their hands as a greeting and smiled. Suddenly, a yell rang out and the Archduke turned to see a captain of the Royal Uhlans becoming increasingly assertive with one of the lictors. The royal guards had attempted to join their sovereign outside, but were being forcibly held back by the lictors. The brief commotion also caught the attention of the Porcuian King who commanded that the lictors lower their arms and unhand the Austrian royal guards. Karl had suspected that his personal security would not be able to follow him, but was pleased that they had asserted themselves. Confident that their pride was intact, the Archduke ordered the Royal Uhlans back inside the townhouse.

"Thank you for your understanding, Your Majesty." King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX said in German when he arrived at the Archduke's side. "This is a solemn occasion that demands our attention to tradition. I can assure you that you and the other guests are quite safe."

Soon all was in order to begin the procession. Before all the guests lined up, however, they gathered around the hearse and watched as a wooden slab with Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus atop it was brought out by the lictors. It was difficult to believe for some, but right there in front of them - with nothing between them - was the former president. Enemy, friend, colleague, enigma; there was a range of emotions that raced through the minds of those present at that moment. Compared to the seeming indifference on the face of Prince Ribbenzoph and the internal sadness at having lost a nemesis of the Archduke, one noticed the disbelief on Schlesinger's face and the open sadness of Censor Canae Ardea Gularis. From their position the three Baltic Germans had an open view of the group and of the late president as he emerged from the hearse. Von Wrangel took note of the different togas worn by the various Porcuians in attendance, as well of the fact that every Porcuian was wearing one. All present were wearing white togas, but whereas many had a thin purple stripe, two individuals' togas had a thicker purple stripe. Though similar, but not exactly alike, von Wrangel saw that even the lovely Mrs. Ardea Gularis was wearing traditional woolen attire. As for Tarquinius Atratinus, von Wrangel saw that he was dressed in the most elaborate toga of all. Dyed a deep purple, the toga in which rested the late president was decorated with exceptionally fine and detailed patterns made of golden thread. Lord von Wrangel would later learn that each toga picta worn for a state funeral was made by hand and each one was unique. Finally, a golden laurel wreath rested on the late president's head.

In a skillful procedure which impressed even the Russian Prince, the lictors brought out Tarquinius Atratinus and lifted the slab onto their shoulders. There were 12 lictors in total, 2 in front of the late president and 2 trailing just behind and 4 on either side. President Defar, intrigued by all that she had seen thus far, took careful notice of the wooden slab and saw that it was beautifully carved - various scenes from the late president's life were detailed and only added to the impressive and unique nature of the experience. The wonderful smell of pine was subtle but definitely present when the slab with Tarquinius Atratinus moved past the group of foreign dignitaries. With the lictors in place and the group set the procession was finally off.

The procession moved at a fairly regular pace, which only deepened the awe that the guests felt when they took note that Tarquinius Atratinus was being carried - openly - on the shoulders of lictors who were also carrying their fasces in their opposite arm. The procession moved from the side street that housed the late president's former residence and down the large north-south avenue which, in one direction, led to the train station. On either side of the massive avenue, the Via Lata, was a wall of onlookers, journalists, and tourists, as well as a wall of police and gendarmes. Those that had poured into the capital to witness the funeral procession were dressed in black togas and most slowly threw into the air small, white rose flower petals. The Russian Prince could see that a great many were shedding tears and, truthfully, it was difficult for him to reconcile the moving scene before him with the cumulative knowledge he had regarding Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus and the man that he was.

It was some time before President Defar, walking a few paces behind from the Porcuian King, noticed the utter absence of music or other formal composition. She looked ahead and saw that the lictors marched in perfect unison, with no outside cue. Nearing the end of the Via Lata, the procession turned west onto the Via Flavia and soon began to descend into the ancient remains of the original Forum. The more typical stone buildings reminiscent of much of continental Europe that lined the avenue gave way to a large opening as the procession entered the Forum. The green space that surrounded the ancient Forum was a dedicated public space and was lovely, even in the depths of winter. The procession continued through the Forum and exited before turning south and then east. The final approach to the procession's destination was the Via Sacra. One of the city's major bridges lay on the Via Sacra and acted to connect the island on which the new Forum was built to the central, large island of Ariminae. The change in architecture was gradual but readily apparent. Along each inch of the procession route stood civilians dressed in black. Their wool garments had kept them warm all through the morning and through the afternoon, and even if they were beginning to feel cold they would brave it so as not to dishonor the memory of the late president.

The modern Forum was purpose-built and its beauty and regality struck the foreign dignitaries suddenly as soon as they crossed over the Pons Sacra and were immediately in the center of power of the Republic. President Aemilius Cesca, who had kept largely to himself this entire time, wondered just what his Austrian, Russian, and Baltic German guests made of the sights before them. The procession continued down the large stone avenue, passing several structures which looked like temples but actually housed various government offices. Off to the right of where they were sat several open markets, while directly ahead of the procession stood a triumphal arch dedicated to the establishment of the Republic. Moving steadily onward, the procession marched past a line of columns adorned with golden statues of past political figures and the basilica Julia. Schlesinger took in all that he could and noticed that members of the public were able to come and view the procession. Even here, small, white petals gently floated down from those gathered at the top balcony of the basilica Julia onto the procession. Beyond the stunning marble structures, what truly caught the Austrian Archduke's attention were the colors: the facades of the temples and basilicas were painted with vibrant reds, blues, greens, and yellows, much like in the style of the ancient Greeks and Romans.

Despite the excitement she felt and the novelty of her experience, the Federation President was beginning to tire. When she believed that she wasn't being actively observed she turned over to her right and asked who turned out to be the Junior Consul Publius Valerius Cato where the procession would stop. With a nod of his large, aquiline nose, Consul Valerius Cato indicated to a large, imposing marble structure that sat at the top of a hill. As the procession navigated through the final portion of the Forum President Defar prepared herself for the ascent to the Parliamentary Complex. The steps up to Parliament were not particular difficult to ascend although they were relatively steep, but the complexity of having to carry the late president again showed why the lictors were so revered. With deft skill the lictors accommodated to the marble steps and smoothly continued on. Once at the top the two lictors in front of and behind the late president stepped aside and helped guide the foreign dignitaries and members of the Consilium off to an area adjacent to a large wooden altar. The altar sat near the middle of the square in front of the steps leading up into the Parliamentary Complex. Whereas the honored guests and members of the Consilium remained to the left of the altar, numerous national and international television crews remained to the right.

It was now late afternoon and the sun was rapidly descending into the horizon. The late president and the wooden slab he lay upon were gently set down on the altar. The lictors then lined up equally on either side of the altar. King Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX stood behind it and held up a beautifully decorated patera before setting it down on the edge of the altar and lifting up an equally beautifully decorated wine jug. Carefully and deliberately, the Rex sacrorum poured the libation into the patera and then set down the jug. With his left hand holding his toga and his right hand holding out the patera in front of him, the Rex sacrorum gave a moving eulogy to Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus that was broadcast the world over.

"...Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus! We are gathered here to remember the life you lived and the legacy you have left behind. We remember you, first and foremost, as a proud citizen of the Republic. Your life was dedicated to the Republic, to that idea of a strong and prosperous Porcu, and for that each and every Porcuian is grateful.

We remember you now, in death, so that your example shines bright. We remember you now, in death, so that Saturnia herself, the fair personification of our ancestral lands and our fair republic, may embrace you with open arms and guide you to the Elysian Fields..."

The Rex sacrorum continued for a few minutes before closing his address. As he bent his knee the Porcuians gathered in the square in front of Parliament bowed deeply in unison. From this height above the metropolis of Ariminae, Archduke Karl looked out and swore he saw a wave ripple through the sea of darkly clothed people as they bowed in unison as well. Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX then poured the wine libation over the body of the late president before stepping away and allowing large bundles of wood and incense to be laid neatly around the altar. Whether it had happened suddenly or slowly Prince Ribbenzoph could not tell, but when the first snow flake landed on his nose was when he turned his eyes up to a grey sky. The Austrian Archduke followed suit and immediately was reminded of those cool, grey eyes that he had come to know well. A gentle snow began to fall as the final bundles were set beside the altar and the Rex sacrorum stepped back into the center holding a large torch. All eyes were upon the flame as it slowly descended to the base of the altar and lit the first of the oil soaked bundles of wood. In a matter of seconds the altar was set ablaze and Vospiscus Tarquinius Atratinus was consumed in a raging fire that seemed to reach straight up and touch the clouds. Even from a distance, the foreign dignitaries could smell the scent of the herbs as they too were consumed by the fire.

After a minute or so Marcus Decimus Maxentius IX walked in front of the altar and proclaimed that the public feast was now open. Across the city and the Republic markets were now open and providing free meals and drinks. Atop the Forum, the group of Porcuians and foreign dignitaries broke from their place on the side and were slowly led up the marble steps into main entrance. Again, the detail and vivid colors - even at this time of day - were stunning. Many took a moment to gaze back down upon the metropolis and the still intensely burning altar before entering the complex.
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

OOC: Apologies if I didn't give you all very much to work with in the previous post. Hopefully, this helps continue to move things along.

IC:

Whereas the atmosphere outside the Parliamentary complex had turned toward the festive, the mood inside was somber. Perhaps it was because many of the workers, assistants, and servants at the ready had, in their own way, come to miss the late president. It did not go unnoticed that many wore varying expressions of sadness.

Few places exemplified the different architectural faces of the Republic as did Parliament. Traditional and ancient on the outside, refined and unabashedly regal on the inside. As the large group of politicians, diplomats, and Heads of State moved through the grand atriums and beautifully decorated hallways the first of many small but exciting and interesting conversations began.

The African Federation President had kept close to the Porcuian King throughout and with the former Austrian Chancellor nearby it was only natural that dove into conversation once the group had been escorted to one of the complex's larger banquet halls. The view it provided from on high of the capital at night was spectacular.

"Your Highness," President Defar began, leaning in toward the King, "I wanted to express my thanks for being able to participate in this very intimate moment for you and your country. I've read about the late president's death and the government's official report following its inquiry into the matter; it's terrible that a man of such standing perished in such a way."

King Decimus Maxentius IX nodded along in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Madam President. It is both a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance and to be one among many hosting you here." The King paused a moment to grab a glass of wine from a passing servant before continuing. "Tarquinius Atratinus' passing was very tragic indeed and I still regret over not doing more to stop those events from unfolding."

Schlesinger, who had been standing quietly, suddenly spoke. "But you were without many options or any recourse...Surely, you cannot hold yourself to blame."

"I learned a lot from Tarquinius Atratinus that day." Decimus Maxentius IX replied. "I wish I had gotten to know him, to understand him, better."

"Yes..." President Defar added. "I also did not know the late president well and believe that the Federation has lost a valuable friend and ally."

"Tarquinius Atratinus had spoken of visiting Africa, but developments on the Continent were impossible to ignore, unfortunately." the Porcuian King replied.

President Defar nodded. She wished well for the new President and stated that Askum would welcome both the King and the newly elected President with open arms. She then turned to the exiled Chancellor. "Your Excellency, you had the pleasure of meeting the late president in Vienna, yes?"
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
The Federation president's question caught Schlesinger off guard. He had been fading in and out of the conversations between his fellow dignitaries and instead been focusing all his attentions inwards towards deep introspection. Only after a few somewhat painful seconds of silence did Schlesinger finally snap out of his own thoughts to respond.

"Oh..please, just Herr Schlesinger," the Chancellor stammered, his aloofness obviously apparent. "Or better yet, just Hans, Madam President. I haven't been the Chancellor for some time."

Schlesinger had always been uncomfortable with formal titles; instead always preferring frank speaking. It was a trait he shared with the late President and one of many reasons, Schlesinger thought, that brought the two of them together as confidants of sorts. Furthermore, Schlesinger had reluctantly been on the outside of political discourse as of late. Working as a professor of political theory at one of Prague's most prestigious universities, he had nonetheless tried in vain to secure a position in the Grand Duchy's government since his exile. Schlesinger had had no luck in this endeavor; it appeared that many of the positions in the government were either filled by long-standing politicians or only available for members of the aristocratic elite or those individuals who had cashed in favors.

Nonetheless, Schlesinger had worked tirelessly to do anything to stem the tide of war between the Duchy and his native Austria. In his classrooms, he often postponed his normal curriculum to set up impromptu discussions on the growing issues in both countries. He was often surprised and disappointed to see the increasing hostility his students displayed to the Austrians without sensing the problems in their own countries or how their hatred only stoked the fire.

Oh, how he hoped the situation would stabilize. How he wondered how Atratinus would have handled the impending conflict.

"Yes, well before then actually," Schlesinger replied, finally addressing Defar's question. "I first met Tarquinius Atratinus here in Ariminae back on the Federation's first diplomatic mission to the Republic. A very unique man, as everyone who ever met him knew well from first contact. The very first thing he ever said to me was an insult." Schlesinger reveled with a slight chuckle.

"But, Vienna, that was a different story. I thought I had everything figured out about Atratinus by the time we met again in Vienna. I could not have been more wrong. I learned quite a great deal about that enigmatic figure over that one night. I'm still not sure why he decided to let his guard down ever so slightly in my presence, but I am glad he did. The world will be a much lesser place without, Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus."

Schlesinger sighed lightly, pleased to finally speak his feelings aloud. "Forgive me my nostalgia, Madam President, Your Majesty. We all have lost a great friend and ally. I do wonder what course the Republic shall take in his absence?"
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

King Decimus Maxentius IX mulled over Schlesinger's question for a few moments. There was an easy and obvious answer, but it wasn't necessarily the right answer in the sense of being true. Honestly, the optimism that the Porcuian King had previously with regard to the Republic and her continued growth failed to blossom again after that fateful night when Tarquinius Atratinus had lost his life and the King nearly his. It was almost as if it had been through shear will that the former President had kept the reigns of the Republic taut and the balance of power in check.

"I wonder the same, Hans - if I may call you that." the King replied eventually. "The Republic is increasingly unstable and we have witnessed brief, but violent ruptures in an otherwise uninterrupted peace over the course of the past several years."

Just then the Porcuian King felt a light touch on his shoulder and turned to see the new President himself. Despite his position of power and authority, Servius Aemilius Cesca had largely deferred to the King throughout the proceedings. Now things were essentially back to normal; the King relegated to his position of general irrelevance.

"Good evening, Marcus Decimus." President Aemilius Cesca said with a wide smile. It must be said that few were able to wear the toga as elegantly as Aemilius Cesca. The President then greeted the two guests.

"A great pleasure..." Aemilius Cesca continued. "Please, tell me how things are in your respective corners of the world?"

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"Mr. President" Defar stated with a gracious nod as the Porcuian President entered into the conversation. "The Federation is good and Africa is ok. We averted war with our neighbors in Shabwah as their government has collapsed however, continued fighting among the various factions fighting for that territory continue to create a refugee issue. Luckily your nation, as I am sure you know, along with the others of H.E.A.R.T have helped us to meet the continued pressing demands."

Defar smiled as she tilted her head slightly, as if remembering some finer moment in her life as she spoke. "On a personal note elections will be coming soon and my tenure of leader of the Federation will be at an end. While I unashamedly will miss the opportunities the Presidency has afford me in meeting such find individuals as yourself as well as among my own people. I can say that I also look forward to my retirement years as I am getting far to old for this job."

Defar's last statement came with a chuckle to which the other gentlemen smiled and then each, in their own way, afford her compliments on how well she'd aged. "Gentlemen you are all to kind." She then turned to Hans.

"Herr Schlie....I mean Hans, am I correct when I say that you teach now? I wonder if you'd ever consider working for a university in the Federation? I am sure many would be overjoyed to have someone such as yourself, with undoubtedly an unparalleled resume, to have you on their staff if I may be so bold. No doubt Prague recognizes your invaluable service to their youth in the university system."

Elsewhere within the hall the elderly Prince Ribbenzoph was enjoying the finer refreshments of the evening. He was impressed at the finery and regalia of many of the rooms and buildings here in the Porcuian capital. Equally so he was admittedly impressed at the attention to detail which seemed to be at the very heart of Porcu and her traditions. Naturally, however, these things were not like the deep traditions of Russia and equally, they paled in comparison to the traditions of his family's homeland, Kasnyia. He smirked when he remembered seeing the disgraced Austrian Chancellor in the crowd of those in attendance. Not because the man was a virtual commoner now with no political or regal power to speak of, in a room of such things. No, the smirk came from how similar their stories were as his family has faced the same exile that he now endured. He could only hope for the man, that he was finding the kind of comfort that the Ribbenzophs enjoyed in the Russian court. At about that moment the Prince noticed the Archduke of Austria and was obliged to speak with him, given how well the Austrians were making with the Russian Emperor.

"Your majesty, I don't believe we've ever had the pleasure of formal introductions" the Prince stated with the courtesy of a nod. "I am Prince Boris Ribbenzoph V, of the legitimate royal family of Kasnyia and of the noble branch of Ribbenzophs within the Russian court. His imperial majesty ask that I make your acquaintance should you attend though he understood if you did not. No doubt this particular engagement is a bitter sweet occasion for yourself, if I am be so bold?"
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Whal
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
Schlesinger also bestowed a polite nod to the Porcuian president as he arrived. While Cesca still had large shoes to fill, Schlesinger was confident that the Republic was left in good hands. He smiled and listened intently as President Defar relayed the current state of affairs in her native Federation. While he had never had the pleasure of traveling to Africa himself, Schlesinger had always desired to see the wonders the continent had to offer - most principally, the majestic landscape of the central African safari. Therefore, Defar's question came as a welcome piece of conversation for the former chancellor.

"I hope you're right, madam President," Schlesinger replied, not trying to sound too ungrateful. "I have given myself wholly to the education of Marslava's youth in the hopes I can help them understand the current sociopolitical situation we are experiencing in central Europe. No doubt, both Austria and Marslava are moving closer to conflict and it is my ardent hope that the future of Marslavan society can understand their enemy is the current Austrian leadership and not the Austrian people who are their enemy - and the enemy of liberalism across the globe."

Schlesinger's gaze shifted noticeably across the room to the imposing figure of the Austrian Archduke. His eyes displayed a burning hatred that no amount of distance could assuage. Schlesinger must have noticed the lengthening silence among the group, as he suddenly averted his gaze and returned to the polite conversation.

"However, I have noticed a rather unfortunate lack of adherence to national unity and reason in the Great Duchy as of late," Schlesinger continued, recounting Cesca's initial question. "As I am sure you are all aware, the Great Duchy has its own very dire problems of late. Sadly, I fear the recent ethnic and political violence may flood the Duchy in blood way before the Empire has its chance to strike. I may need to send out my resume once again, Madam President." Schlesinger smiled at the Federation president.

--

Across the room, the Austrian Archduke conversed with the Russian Prince in a reserved delight. Karl noticed the death glare from the disgraced chancellor almost as if he had a sixth sense. It pleased the aging monarch to know that others were likely talking about him or his empire with a sense of dread or anger. To be feared was always a good thing as long as one remembered never to become too overconfident.

"Yes, it is a pleasure indeed, Prince," Karl replied, squeezing the Russian's hand. "It is regrettable that his majesty, could not attend himself as I would have rather enjoyed to speak with him. I imagine that urgent matters have kept him not too far from the Kremlin."

Karl's eyes narrowed across the room; scanning it intensely as a wolf surveying a flock of unguarded and unsuspecting sheep.

"But no, this occasion was a necessary diversion, wouldn't you agree?" Karl continued, his eyes returning to the Russian. "I will not mourn the passing of the sheppard nor lament that his passing was not by my hand. I'm sure that Moscow - no, St. Petersburg - is as pleased as Vienna to see the end of Atratinus. Tell me, what does Russia make of the Republic's recent acquisition in Finland? Surely, such territory watered with the blood of the son's of Russia does not so easily part with the Motherland?"
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Whal
Aug 6 2017, 11:44 AM
Across the room, the Austrian Archduke conversed with the Russian Prince in a reserved delight. Karl noticed the death glare from the disgraced chancellor almost as if he had a sixth sense. It pleased the aging monarch to know that others were likely talking about him or his empire with a sense of dread or anger. To be feared was always a good thing as long as one remembered never to become too overconfident.

"Yes, it is a pleasure indeed, Prince," Karl replied, squeezing the Russian's hand. "It is regrettable that his majesty, could not attend himself as I would have rather enjoyed to speak with him. I imagine that urgent matters have kept him not too far from the Kremlin."

Karl's eyes narrowed across the room; scanning it intensely as a wolf surveying a flock of unguarded and unsuspecting sheep.

"But no, this occasion was a necessary diversion, wouldn't you agree?" Karl continued, his eyes returning to the Russian. "I will not mourn the passing of the sheppard nor lament that his passing was not by my hand. I'm sure that Moscow - no, St. Petersburg - is as pleased as Vienna to see the end of Atratinus. Tell me, what does Russia make of the Republic's recent acquisition in Finland? Surely, such territory watered with the blood of the son's of Russia does not so easily part with the Motherland?"
Boris took a sip on his refreshment as he listened to the Archduke and scanned the room. "His Imperial Majesty did speak with little remorse when word first reach Saint Petersburg of the death of Atratinus. To be frank, there were many in the Russian court taking private wagers as to whose secret services or assassins had finally gotten the job done. Alas it seems, none but the Porcu themselves can claim victory in this endeavor."

"Finland is no lost yet your majesty" the Prince returned. "His imperial majesty has charged the diet of Finalnd to hold a referrendum that is all. We feel the Fins are far more monarchs and Russian than they could ever see themselves as Republicans and Porcuians. After all, the Fins tried democracy remember and what did they get for the promise of equality and tranquility under the power of the people? Decades of communist slavery, their lands rape for resources and their people's blood use as fuel for their own industrialization. Yshurak was a power nation at its height, I for one will openly admit this. Its only failure was its belief that communist can last the test of time. The Bolsheviks of the South believed this and it is true the Soviet Union lasted on Moscow for decades, some 70 years. Yet, while they sat in the South the Empire remained in the North, Saint Petersburg remained strong. Today the flag of the Empire and not the bastard union flies over Moscow and that alone should give warning to any foolish enough to believe communism can work."

"I digress, to the point of the matter I say that Finland is not lost. I believe that following this referendum, the Fins will choose to retain their ancestral right to remain in the Russian Empire and enjoy the vast prosperity it can provide. His Imperial Majesty shares this confidence so much so that he has this referendum. The fins will choose Saint Peterburg over Ariminae, mark my words on that."
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"Life is too short to be wasted on bad scotch"
 *  *  *  *  *  *
The Archduke listened intently as the Russian spoke; his gaze left the fellow's eyes only momentarily to watch his brandy swirl about in the ornate glass he held firmly at his chest. Karl rather enjoyed the pride with which the Russian prince boasted regarding his country's triumph over communism. Indeed, it matched his own, yet unlike in Russia, communists presented a real threat in the Empire even as the Austrian secret police routinely stamped them out. That the Finns would turn to Porcu over Russia was not of real concern to the Austrian sovereign, but should the reds mobilize enough favor there then their unity may embolden communist rebels in Austria's more troublesome provinces.

"I shall," Karl stated flatly and perhaps not as friendly as he had meant it. In that instant, he noticed a perplexed look on Ribbenzoph's face.

"More so, I hope you will relay Austria's commitment to the continued friendship of St.Petersburg and Vienna to His Majesty, Ivan," Karl began only lightning his tone ever so slightly. "It is my wish that the Finns return to the stewardship of Russia and that your sovereign can count on Austria to assist in any way she can. As we have in the past..."

Karl's thoughts trailed away for a moment back to his meeting with Ivan many months ago. On that beautifully pleasant Caribbean afternoon, both empires had struck a deal to forge a lasting alliance after a mutually beneficial bargain. Austria had fulfilled her end with a RSD bullet still soaked in Drax blood, yet the Crown Prince was still no closer to wedding and bedding the Russian Duchess. Without a more permanent bond with the Russians, Karl knew he could not press the advantage in the war with Porcu and Marslava everyone now realized was imminent. Until he could remove the Russian bear from play, the Archduke could not prepare his invasion of Marslava - Russia's principle Slavic ally.

"I trust, my Lord, that your sovereign still hopes to honor our arrangement," The Archduke pressed. "After all, Austria could be just the friend Russia needs as it re consolidates its power over the Finns."


Edited by Whal, Sep 4 2017, 06:05 PM.
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Prince Ribbenzoph gave a reaction that left his face somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

"Indeed" he replied though in truth, the true context of the negotiations eluded him he did know that his own cousin had been promised to the Austrian heir. "His Imperial Majesty has spoken with her majesty over this issue. If I am not mistaken our Ambassador in Vienna should be contacting your own household on the matter of a state visit for the Grand Duchess. Why, I would not be surprised if such a visit ended in an official engagement to be announced, something I can assure your majesty would be well received in Saint Petersburg."
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"Work is the curse of the drinking classes."

OOC: Essentially concluding this from point of view. I've just been meaning to detail two important things. Of course, anyone is free to comment on the passing of Atratinus, or to write out individual conversations between those in attendance.

IC:

From the corner of his eye, the Austrian Archduke noticed that the Porcuian monarch was approaching from his left. It seemed that the minor monarch had enough good manners to wait for a pause in the conversation before interrupting.

"Please forgive me, Your Majesties." King Decimus Maxentius IX said. It was the first time that either the Archduke or Prince Ribbenzoph had gotten a proper look at the King's toga. Both were impressed by its design, though neither would voice such thoughts. The Maxentii were not a proper royal house, but the culture to which they belonged did possess grace.

"I only mean to borrow a moment of your time." the Porcuian stated to the Austrian.

Curious, Karl shifted so that he was facing the Porcuian monarch.

"You were named in the late President's will, and as Rex sacrorum I am to see Tarquinius Atratinus' will carried out." Decimus Maxentius IX said as he extended his hands out, together holding a small, wrapped package. "This is yours."

The Archduke reached out and took the package from the King, looking over its simple wrapping and noting its light weight. After confirming that he could open it without delay, the Archduke carefully opened the wrapping and revealed a small, equally simple box. The wrapping was handed off to an assistant and the box was opened to reveal a handwritten note and a wooden figurine underneath. The figurine was worn and its paint chipped away in several areas, but the Archduke could tell that it was originally a beautiful piece of work. The figurine itself was of a greek hoplite, standing defensively with his arm raised and his spear at the ready. The nude hoplite stood at roughly 12cm.

While the Archduke had never seen the figurine before, the Porcuian King knew of it, having always noticed it standing on the late president's desk. Yet, even he did not understand why Tarquinius Atratinus would gift such a personal item to an enemy. Karl returned the figurine to the box and unfolded the note, noting immediately the unmistakable handwriting of the late president. It only took a few sentences before the Austrian was reminded of the failed and embarrassing trial of Tarquinius Atratinus and just how obvious it was that the crucial piece of evidence could not have been penned by the Porcuian.

Karl von Habsburg-Lothringen II,

Although I hope that it does not bring you too much joy, I cannot imagine that my passing would be greeted otherwise. In truth, my stay in Austria forced me to re-evaluate the probability of my death occurring «unnaturally», as they say, so I owe you, the Austrian State, generally, and the brutish guards at Kaufstraum Castle, specifically, my sincerest thanks. I am much more at peace.

The figurine you see is one I bought while on a trip to Vienna. It also happens to be my most prized possession, for apart from this figurine I have little with which to remember my long deceased wife. I met her only a few minutes after having bought this figurine and despite not being the least bit superstitious I could never shake the association.

We are not so different, you and I. You are propelled by your sense of duty and of honor. Yet, it is family - the blood that courses through your veins - that animates you. This much has always been clear to you, but not so for me. Until now.

You are, of course, free to do with this figurine what you will. Still, I hope that it may serve to remind you of the blood that flowed through me, and that which flows through each and every Porcuian. Let it give pause to overconfidence and certainty.

Lastly, please forward my sincerest apologies to your Eleanor. The way you treasured and loved her was envious. I have written a separate apology which I hope makes it safely to her, but I wished to unequivocally state my apologies here to you as well.

Sincerely yours,
Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus


. . .

The evening festivities were slowly winding down outside in the capital and several esteemed dignitaries had already taken their leave from the reception inside the Parliament complex. Yet, others remained and so drinks continued to be poured and food continued to be prepared.

At one point the former East German Chancellor was alone and that was when he was approached by a middle aged woman. Light haired and slim in physique, the woman carried herself with confidence even though she did not belong at the secure reception, meant for foreign heads of state and other high-level dignitaries. Dressed to perfectly match the other Porcuians gathered, she carefully stepped close enough to Schlesinger so that she could talk to him but not close enough that they would be thought of as together.

"Chancellor, Vospiscus kindly requested your presence for the burial of his ashes. If you would be so kind as to meet me out in the corridor on the far end of the hall in 10 minutes we can proceed."

As Schlesinger was turning to face the woman she disappeared straight into a crowd in front of him. He didn't even have time to state his interest, let alone who she was or what exactly she meant. Nonetheless, he considered what she had said carefully, noting in particular her usage of the late president's praenomen, something which Porcuian culture regulated tightly. Still, it was obviously not impossible for this mystery woman to lie. Minutes ticked by and despite his hesitation when it came time to make a decision Schlesinger chose to trust that the enigmatic Tarquinius Atratinus - even in death - had planned everything out.

Arriving to the corridor at the far end of the hall, as he was instructed, Schlesinger only had to wait a few moments before a voice called out for him to follow. The two moved quickly and inconspicuously through the corridor, eventually arriving at a heavy metal door painted to appear as just another elegant, wooden door. The woman punched in a code, accessing the door, and led the former Chancellor away from the bustle of the reception.

Only when the metal door closed behind them did Schlesinger speak. "May I know who you are?"

"You may call me Octavia." the woman replied without stopping or turning around. Actually, her pace began to quicken.

"Sorry...why all this secrecy?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Chancellor."

"I'm not the Chancellor." Schlesinger replied, his tone firm.

"Fine. Just shut up and follow me."

After passing through several more heavy metal doors, Octavia and Schlesinger arrived at an exit. Suddenly, Octavia stopped just in front of the door, causing Schlesinger to crash into her. She quickly scolded him before turning her attention to her wrist watch. Schlesinger could barely hear her counting the seconds under her breath.

"310...311...312...313...314..."

The next moment she opened the door with one hand and pulled Schlesinger along with the other. All the former Chancellor saw was that they had exited out into another beautifully decorated corridor and then outside and into a narrow side street. Night had fallen and there was a gentle, picturesque snow fall. A motorcar waited just up the street from where Octavia and Schlesinger were and soon both were inside the warm vehicle and driving away from the Parliament complex. They headed west.

After a period of complete silence Schlesinger continued his questioning. At this point he was certain that this was all the work of Tarquinius Atratinus, but he wanted confirmation of his suspicion.

"Yes, yes..." Octavia replied. "Rest assured that this is completely off the record. We're fortunate that you're essentially a nobody now; otherwise, your disappearance would have been much more difficult to conceal."

The hairs on the back of Schlesinger's neck stood up suddenly. Octavia turned and looked at him, giving him his first proper glance at her. She smiled.

"You're completely safe, don't worry."

Schlesinger turned away from Octavia. "Octavia is not your real name, is it?"

"No, it is not."

Schlesinger nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Vetulonium."

. . .

The drive did not take long in total, although it was made longer as all major roads were avoided. For what reason, Schlesinger did not immediately know.

He knew of the town of Vetulonium. It was both the place of birth and the place of death of the late president. In driving through the town centre, Schlesinger noted that the inhabitants had chosen to erect a memorial to the late president. He considered asking if they could stop for a moment, but decided against it. He reasoned that they were close enough to their destination in any case. Just as they had exited the town proper, Octavia turned the motorcar onto a narrow gravel road that led to the north. Schlesinger could make out the borders of a forested area just ahead.

"Is that...Is that where Vopiscus..." Schlesinger began.

"Was murdered? Yes."

After another minute or so, Octavia pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road. The rest of the journey would be done on foot. Schlesinger wisely took the extra wool toga that was neatly folded in the back seat and stepped out. Despite the snow and biting cold, Schlesinger felt warm after wrapping himself. Octavia soon stepped around the motorcar carrying a highly decorated and lidded urn and a shovel. She handed the latter to Schlesinger.

"What is that?" Schlesinger asked, although he had already come to the correct conclusion.

"These are the ashes of the late Vopiscus Tarquinius Atratinus."

"You stole them?!" Schlesinger replied.

"He didn't want to be buried along with other heads of state in the capital..." Octavia said beginning to lead the way into the forest. "Don't worry, I replaced his ashes with those of another. No one will know the difference."

The two walked deep into the forest that bordered the town and got lost on two separate occasions. However, they eventually arrived at their destination: a clearing perched on top of a small hill that overlooked Vetulonium on one side and the Porcuian countryside on the other. A giant oak tree towered over the two and was the central feature of the clearing. Without losing a moment, they began to dig into the hard, frozen earth at the base of the tree. They took turns digging until, finally, a marble slab was revealed. Digging further unearthed the top of a pure marble case and, working together, Schlesinger and Octavia lifted the lid. Inside was already an urn.

"Go ahead." Octavia said in between deep breaths.

It took some time for Schlesinger to finally bring himself to pour Atratinus' ashes inside the other urn. He was tremendously conflicted to be given such a personal and intimate task, for he knew that he was bringing together Atratinus' ashes with those of his late wife's, and his mind raced. The weight of the occasion eventually brought him to tears. Not of sadness, although melancholy was present.

He stood in front of that pure, white marble case buried deep at the feet of a majestic tree and cried. Octavia stood next to him.

"We are the only people to know of this place." she said. "My real name is Agrippina Junia Brutus. I'm sure you recognize by the name, but I am a blood relative of the so-called patricians Junia Brutii. I was abandoned as a child. Vopiscus was the only person to ever show me love or affection."

Schlesinger turned and saw that he was not the only one crying.

"It's not fair that he's gone, but at least he is reunited with his love, his Beatrice. Both of their lives were filled with sadness in life...Do you think they can start anew? That they can be happy?"

Schlesinger wiped his cheeks and his eyes. "Yes, I do."
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