Don't Cry for Me Auraria

[Oneida]

Introduction to Valerio Terrazas

As the rest of the continent would descend into their cold winters, Auraria was beginning its summer. The country was a lot more lively in the summer, and the amount of tourists decreased slightly, making the country feel that much more cultural. The actual climate of the country varied greatly depending on the region an individual found themselves occupying. The hot and arid northern lowlands, the wet and cool western highlands or the southeast’s temperate flatlands.

Heredia was in many ways one of Auraria’s greatest successes and shortcomings. The city was built over one hundred years ago to serve as the capital of the commonwealth, with the purpose of being easily accessible from all corners of the large colony. The other opportunity was that being a new city, it could be built with the exact specifications that people had in mind for what they envisioned the bastion of southern republicanism to be. Located towards the end of Central Valley, the Talamancas could be seen from any point within Heredia. The first portion of the city was constructed on what would be dubbed, High Hill. The government buildings were constructed there, on a plateau which at the time was the highest point in the city. High Hill maintained a distinct frescanian flair to it. The area surrounding High Hill was designated to be housing for the commonwealth’s congressmen for when they were in session. This area would eventually be known as Old Town.

At this point, Heredia began rapid expansion. Over the years, the commonwealth became more and more unitary, bringing political power to city for extended periods of time, turning it away from it’s original intention as a meeting point into a real and liveable city. As more people moved in, more businesses moved in. Over the next one hundred years, Heredia became a city of 2 million people and Central Valley became the most densely populated region of the country. Since the area wasn’t exactly fit to hold millions of people, many parts of the city are cramped and some facilities find themselves lacking. As city officials tried to modernize and clean up the city, property values increased, forcing the poor strata who’ve come to Heredia for opportunity farther and farther out of center city. As word of construction in the city and opportunity spread, more people flooded in only to find a lack of opportunity and end up being pushed into the slums, adding to the problem.

Many people wrote on the issue, but only one of them ever achieved actual recognition. His name was Valerio Terrazas. Terrazas was originally from Nueva Catamarca, one of the poorer regions of the country and the recent victim of a dam collapse that killed half a thousand people and ended whatever hopes the tourism industry had of a great tourist season.

Terrazas’ father had moved to Heredia many years ago to find work and actually succeeded and became a construction worker and even befriended some of the more powerful in Heredia. Valerio and his mother and two younger siblings would work around the house and farms, never really needing steady outside work due to their father’s success. When Terrazas came of age, he moved to Heredia to attend university, only to have his father die shortly after. Faced with no means of income and now schooling, Terrazas intended to drop out of university, only to be stopped by Noé Casales who offered to financially support him and his family as he was a friend of his father.

Terrazas completed his education and would always send half of his money to his family back in Nueva Catamarca, who declined to move to Heredia. Terrazas gradually lost contact with his family, but continuously sent the paychecks over. As the years went on, his commentary on the city’s dire situation awarded him a position in the city’s government aiding as a city planner. Over time, he became the chief planner for the city.

Around the time of independence in the 40s, Terrazas alienated Casales by refusing to join his crusade for independence. This hurt Terrazas to such an extent that he was forced out of his position. In 1950, as the Vicarists and Casalists shifted from working together to fighting each other, Terrazas returned to political prominence by organizing the Justice Party and bringing the small and weak socialist parties together to form the Justice Alliance which today stands as the smallest coalition occupying the Chamber of Tribunes, but is the fastest growing. Since 1950, Terrazas has been the Coalition Leader.

Casales Mansion
Primer, Aluche
June 1914

“It’s all so sudden,” Reldón said, rocking back and forth on a tie swing that the two seventeen year olds fashioned years ago.

“Not really, it was years in the process,” Noé replied.

“No, I know. We were both supposed to go to Frescania, both go to the same university, both get the same thing, come back here and take over the business. We were supposed to be friends forever,” Reldón answered.

“Sylvania isn’t bad,” Noe said after a moment of silence. “At least you get to see the world.”

“I don’t want to see the world, I’m going to be moving from country to country. I hate traveling,” Reldón said, kicking the dirt beneath him.

“God, you’re such a pessimistic. You can’t see the bright side out of any situation. You get to see things, you get to see more people, more everything, you’ll finally be smarter than I am. Frescania is nice, but it’s a damn desert for the most part. Half the country you can’t even explore, a quarter of it is tainted by Jurzani fodder and the other quarter is where I’ll be, sitting in a classroom listening to some high and mighty professor talk about how smart they are. All I ever wanted was to see the world, to experience everything, to get a better understanding of things bigger than myself,” Noe answered.

“All I want is to sit in one place and take classes, but our friendship will be over since we’ll be gone for so long,” Reldón stated.

“Think of all the things we’ll have to talk about when we get back. We’ll never shut up, we’ll talk more in that moment that we will have in all the times we’ve talked put together,” Noe said as he turned to the face the direction of the ocean.

“You promise?” Reldón asked, looking up.

“Of course I do, unlike you, I’m a man of my word, a man of action,” Noe said, smiling and flexing.

“Whenever you’re ready to step down from that pedestal of yours and grace us with your presence that’d be nice. My neck is starting to hurt,” Reldón said, with a serious look.

“Why don’t you build a pedestal?” Noe asked.

The two laughed and decided to go down to the beach, which wasn’t far from the estate and swim one last time before Noe left the next day to begin studying in Frescania. The sun was dipping below the surface of the ocean which lit up the sky and sea in a brilliant orange-red color. As the two swam, Noe quickly submerged and let out a scream, startling Reldón. He sat, twisting in the water for a good long time before Noe resurfaced screaming “Shark! Shark!”

Reldón looked at Noe with a grin, it wasn’t the first time that he tried to pull this trick. This time though, the smile that should be on Noe’s face was no smile, it was a look of pure terror, his eyes were more than enough to reveal that this was no joke. Reldón stood in shock as it all began to register that the water wasn’t red from the sun’s reflection, it was red from Noe’s blood.

Snapping back into action from what seemed like hours of staring, Reldón grabbed Noe and drug him back to shore, where he could see the bite that nearly removed Noe’s lower left leg. Reldón screamed like hell until people finally arrived and carried the young millionaire off to the nearest hospital.

 

[Oneida]

Political Parties and their leaders by number of seats held:

Party	Coalition	Seats Held	Leader
Grand National Alliance	Republican Alliance	61 (34%)	Victor Allende
Democratic Union	Union for Democracy	48 (27%)	Roberto Urbina
Labor Party	Justice Alliance	21 (12%)	Valerio Terrazas
National Advancement Party	Republican Alliance	18 (10%)	Aureliano Zavala
Nationalist Union	Republican Alliance	13 (7%)	Marcelo Castillion
Socialist Party	Justice Alliance	9 (5%)	Desi Gomez
National Libertarian Party	Union for Democracy	5 (3%)	Alberto Oleastro
Justice Party	Justice Alliance	4 (2%)	Toribio Banderas

There are eight political parties that hold seats in the Chamber of Tribunes, all six parties have organized into three coalitions: The Republican Alliance, Union for Democracy, and Justice Alliance. Customarily, the Senior Tribune is to invite the heads of all political parties for a meeting to discuss whatever topic the Senior Tribune deems necessary. Within hours of Aureliano Zavala’s announcement, the meeting was called, and so the party leaders assembled.

“I have no time for political games. Surely, everyone in this room understands the severity of what has occurred today,” Allende opened, with a stern, threatening tone.

“Of course, for the first time, you’re being opposed. Surely such an act discomforts you,” Urbina responded, which was met with a glare from Allende and Castillion.

“Having Sylvania here helps us greatly. They will aid in our defense as we can continue to promote a good relationship and be able to keep a listening ear on their activities in Primer,” Castillion declared.

“Bullshit. I don’t understand why you’re so ready to enslave this country to them,” Urbina retorted.

“Enough. It is damaging to our sovereignty. Unfortunately, it’s come to the point where I have to do something like this to even peek your interest,” Zavala stated.

“You commit treason against the coalition,” Castillion condemned.

“My loyalties are to Auraria, not the Alliance,” Zavala answered.

“You are too blind to understand what the situation is. I am doing this for the sake of the country and I’ll be damned if you hold this government hostage because of something you can’t comprehend,” Allende preached to Zavala.

“Then you’ll be damned,” Terrazas answered, leaning back and forth in his chair.

“How dare you comment on such a thing,” Castillion shot back.

“Now now, we should be friends if we’re going to share a room in hell,” Terrazas answered with a smile.

“This is getting us nowhere. What is said here is irrelevant, the base goes and it goes now,” Urbina stated.

“I will not allow for it, it is too beneficial. There is no need to be openly antagonistic to Sylvania,” Allende replied.

“That’s why this is your last year as Senior Tribune,” Terrazas stated.

“And who to replace him with, Mr. Terrazas, a pillow biter such as yourself? God will scorn this nation,” Castillion stated.

“At least we could go out with class,” Terrazas answered.

“For the love of god, please, both of you,” Urbina pleaded “we’re here to discuss politics, not our bedrooms.”

“Some of us care for morals,” Castillion stated.

“Says the cousin fucker,” Banderas answered, which got a laugh from Terrazas. Castillion turned red and launched from his chair to a standing position pointing his finger at Banderas, preparing to yell.

“Sit down,” Allende demanded, coldly “if you cannot conduct yourselves, Mr. Banderas, Mr. Terrazas, you are than welcome to leave.”

“This is your call Allende, stop the construction now and return Auraria to a sense of normalcy. I’ve stated my position, and I will not go back on it,” Zavala said.

“You know I will refuse, you know I will not allow it,” Allende answered.

“Then I will call for a vote of no confidence and dissolve the Government and allow for elections, we’ll let the people decide,” Zavala declared “By their order, the will of the people, we will organize a new government, one that responds to their needs. Not the needs of the Vicarian elites.”

The radical statement caught the attention of everyone in the room. Never had anyone suggested dissolving the government. It was unorthodox, unnecessary, and it made everyone in the room solemn and serious, knowing that this refusal of negotiation would indeed result in that. Only Terrazas could still be cracking a smile.

“How great, polls are showing my growing popularity, a few more seats, no more Allende, count us in,” Terrazas declared “I suppose we shall go on vacation then.”

“Mr. Zavala, you understand the gravity of what you have just said to me, to all of us?” Castillion asked.

“Yes, Mr. Castillion, I am quite aware. I was schooled on government, I am aware of what I called for,” Zavala answered.

“It’s treasonous,” Castillion growled.

“It’s republicanism,” Urbina declared, breaking his silence.

“I hope this pays off for you in the end, Aureliano. You dare to threaten a shutdown of this government solely so you can advance your own political agenda, you don’t wish to remove the base, you only want this position,” Allende growled. “You do not have the aptitude to be a leader.”

“I will bring this government to a grinding halt if I must. I am a representative of the people, you – you are a representative of Vicario and his cronies who believe they can control this entire nation. I will have none of it, do you understand that. You say I’m not a leader, I stand by the fact that you aren’t,” Zavala responded. “In the end, the people will decide.”

“I agree with Mr. Allende. If the aptitude of leadership involves bending to the will of the powerless superpower, Reldón Vicario, then yes, none of the people in this room have the aptitude of leadership…with the very notable exception of Mr. Castillion,” Terrazas answered.

Allende stood up from his chair, closed his notebook, and left the room without saying a word. The other party leaders followed, each awkwardly walking out. Only Urbina and Zavala remained.

“It seems we would have a lot to discuss,” Zavala said to Urbina.

Urbina closed his notebook, closed his eyes and stood up. He opened his eyes again, and looked fairly hopelessly at Zavala. “If you believe that Victor Allende - friend and colleague of founding father Reldón Vicario, friend and colleague of Chief Director José Acre – the people in power, will play by the rules of the constitution that Vicario himself wrote, than may every God humanity has ever worshipped, give you their blessing.”

Urbina took his leave.

 

[Oneida]

Office of Tribune Aureliano Zavala
City of Heredia, Heredia

“A new party?” Urbina asked.

“Yes, my party has become increasingly disconnected with the Republican Alliance. The Tribunes that adhere to Allende’s party are only there because of the money they’re capable of mustering up. I’m doubtful any of them could win an election if they lacked strong financial backing. The Nationalists…well, they’re just insane,” Zavala explained “You and I, together we’ll form a new party with bits and pieces collected from all three of the coalition to create one grand party.”

“You plan to break away from the Republican Alliance, create a new coalition collecting a sizable number of tribunes from all the parties in the Chamber and then hunker down in refusal to reelect Allende next year?” Urbina attempted to clarify.

“We refuse to vote on anything until a bill on the removal of the base is brought to vote by Allende,” Zavala answered.

“What if this new party of yours flops and no one converts?” Urbina asked.

“Before the plan goes into action, we’ll recruit support from the opposition parties. You, Mr. Terrazas, and myself will bring any tribunes that we want to and we’ll grind out the new party and announce our conversion along with the conversion of all those who help us to write the charter. While we do that, ask Casales to hire lobbyists to begin surveying and getting guarantees of conversion upon announcement,” Zavala answered “If we get a less than satisfactory conversion rate, we’ll make sure to punish them in the special election that will inevitably follow when the Republican Alliance, the majority coalition, fractures and can no longer form Government.”

“If your goals are met, no one will have enough votes to form a government, you’ll send the entire chamber into shut down. If the people don’t back us?” Urbina questioned.

“Then in the special election we will be destroyed and more likely than not charged with treason or some obstruction of justice. They’ll silence any remnants of our existence, officially ending any opposition to Vicario’s republic and ensuring his rule for the foreseeable future,” Zavala stated, bluntly.

Urbina smiled. “You’re a crazy man, Mr. Zavala.”

“History tends to show that sane and insane are matters of perspective,” Zavala answered.

“I’ll assemble the people I want. I assume we’ll be in touch,” Urbina stated.

Office of the President
City of Heredia, Heredia

“Their goal is quite obvious to me,” Allende said “they seek power, and they’ll stop at no means to obtain it.”

“They have a point, Victor,” Vicario said. “That naval base has been awfully unpopular. Clemente has informed me time and time again that we should be wary of Sylvania’s true intentions. I don’t doubt him, no man should.”

“Of course I do not. That base solidifies the defense of our country and will keep our relations with Sylvania at least normal. The proposal of the idea of reevaluating Sylvanian relations made them threaten us so severely, an actual bill that would remove their ships, think of what they will do,” Allende stated.

“Propose it,” Chief-Director José Acre stated “use language they want, propose the bill to end the construction of the base and force the Sylvanians to leave, tell them we’ll use force if need be. We have nearly 10,000 men in Primer and a good sized fleet, they wouldn’t resist us.”

“Were you not listening?” Allende asked “you openly call for such a hostile action against Sylvania.”

“We’ll make sure the public sees every threatening word Sylvania sends our way. Zavala and Urbina’s rebellion will end once public support topples for their agenda,” Acre responded.

“It’ll pass. The threats will strengthen their cause, they’ll spin it to the enslavement our country faces,” Vicario replied.

“They are betting their entire pot that you will not propose this bill, and then they’ll become increasingly resistant until there is noble grounds to call for a vote of no confidence and shut down the government,” Acre argued “the only way to stop this dead in its tracks is to propose the vote.”

“There’s a great risk in that,” Allende stated.

“In the meantime, I will reinforce Fortaleza Frescaño in Heredia. If things become hectic, the military will move to restore order. You cannot allow them to have a special election, if they get one, their movement will be legitimized,” Acre stated.

 

[Oneida]

CHAMBER FLOOR
Heredia, Heredia

A visibly angry Victor Allende stood before an assembled, but divided Chamber of Tribunes. Just moments ago, the Grand National Alliance proposed a vote for a motion of no confidence, to shut down the Chamber and all for special elections to occur on November 1, 1953. The Federal Republicans wanted to wait until they’ve finalized their new constitution so they could campaign on it, but the National Alliance would give them no such time and forced the elections to occur now. The vote was surprisingly unified, with 98% of the Chamber approving the motion of no confidence.

“With strong support amongst the Chamber, as Senior Tribune, I officially declare this Chamber dissolved on this date, October 18, 1953. Elections for a new Chamber shall be held on November 1 and on the 5[SUP]th[/SUP], the new Chamber will be sworn in, elect a Senior Tribune, and governance shall continue as normal,” Allende declared, to an eerily thunderous applause.

Fortaleza Principal
Primer, Aluche

Gathered into a conference room were the top military commanders of the nation, the Board of Directors. The Board of Directors consisted of eight generals and led by the Chief Director, who is José Acre. The Members of the Board of Directors are:

Chief Director José Acre – based in Heredia, Heredia
General Tristán Rubio – based in Primer, Aluche
General Julio Escamilla – based in Naranjo, Naranjo
General Teófillo García – based in Puerto Viejo, Valle Occidental
General Cipriano Vargas – based in Cañas, Nueva Catamarca
General Marino Suárez – based in Vincente, Coronado
General Lucio Delgado – based in San Rafael, Navadijos
General Asdrubal Garza – based in Santa Rosa, Acacias
General Calixto Arreola – based in Cahuita, Nueva Francisca

“Word has just arrived from the capital, the Chamber of Tribunes has officially been dissolved and elections declared,” Acre opened with.

“How do we respond?” Rubio asked.

“We don’t, this is politics, it’s no bother of ours,” Escamilla answered.

“These rebels threaten to hold our government hostage. We cannot and will not allow them to do so,” Acre responded

“What do you intend to do?” General Arreola asked.

“It is our job to restore order. These elections will inherently be fraudulent and we must be there to restore civility to the Chamber,” Acre answered.

“We should cut off the snake’s head, not go after the whole thing,” Rubio declared “Zavala goes, they all go.”

“An accurate statement, but we won’t worry about that right now. From now until November 1, we prepare for whatever is necessary. That being said, everyone is to return to their areas of operation and prepare for further instructions.”

The gentlemen all rose and prepared for their departure. General Escamilla and General Garcia walked out together and found themselves to be alone.

“I have a bad feeling about what’s to come,” Garcia said.

“I’m sending people to Heredia, I’m fairly confident the area is no longer safe,” Escamilla answered “The utmost secrecy must be maintained.”

“Do you think Acre will act?” Garcia asked.

“In this political debacle, Zavala is leading the Chamber purposely into disarray to cause elections so he can hope to gain like what, twenty more seats, so he gains a majority and then begin shoving down constitutional reforms to form a more perfect republic. The only people who stand to lose in the case of Zavala’s success are those loyal to Vicario,” Escamilla said “So, yes, I am more than confident that Acre, Vicario, Allende, Hernandez, and anyone else who stands to lose will act.”

“That’s fairly treasonous talk,” Garcia said.

“Treasonous to who, the state or the political elite?” Escamilla asked.

 

[Oneida]

Ciudad de Heredia
Heredia Province

Just hours ago radio stations went wild broadcasting reports of Victor Allende’s decision to dissolve the Chamber of Tribunes and hold special elections across the country. The news spread with a rapid pace captivating parts of the nation while discomforting others. As tribunes scrambled home to campaign in their respective districts, the Supreme Electoral Tribunal scrambled for Heredia.

The Tribunal is an independent organization constitutionally granted the special task of monitoring all elections in the country. With such a short notice and such a large scale election, the Tribunal certainly had its work cut out for it. It had until November 5 to ensure that all the parameters were in place in order to have the election. Such a thing as this had not happened before in history and no one was quite sure how it would play out. Heading this grandiose undertaking was Rafael Rodriguez, a short, pudgy, quirky individual. His thick rimmed black glasses and comb over where the most identifying features of the man. Despite his less than appealing appearance, he landed the job due to this unparalleled work ethic and resolve. Surely, there wasn’t any man more qualified – or willing – to take up the task.

Already the Grand National Alliance set up base within Heredia and began filing candidates. The Grand National Alliance often led the election for the entire coalition, but with the loss of the National Advancement Party, they were notably shorthanded. Regardless of that fact, they were a well-oiled machine, complete with powerful friends and a strong financial supply.

Conversely, the Federal Republicans were struggling. Aureliano Zavala had fallen in charge of the party and was presumed to be the party’s nomination for Senior Tribune, assuming they could clinch enough extra seats. Zavala was confident that he would be the one to lead the motion of no confidence against the Chamber. He wanted to wait until the Federal Republicans were more able to compete electorally and the new constitution was finished, though Allende decided to not award him that courtesy. Though wet behind the ears, Zavala emanated an optimism that made it difficult for anyone to not want to work hard in his favor.

Heredia was Zavala’s hometown, so he remained in the city and had no plans to leave it for the duration of the election. Heredia was home to a good number of Tribunes, including Victor Allende. Allende was convinced he could buy seats, and few could deny his capital to do so. Within Allende’s district, he was wildly popular, so he had no worry for his seat, he and Vicario would spend their time going around and winning seats in more swing districts.

The quieter Roberto Ubrina returned to his home province of Naranjo, where he lived in the northeast of the country. If Urbina was worried for his seat, no one knew it. In public he always kept his speeches short and to the point, but he always displayed a friendly disposition. In private, he hardly ever spoke, he would write more than speak. Urbina had won his seat in 1950 and 1952 by wide margins, any analyst would say he was safe.

Pueblo de San Rafael
Naranjo Province

For Urbina, all was right in the world. He had not been in Naranjo for almost a year, and he adored every second of it. Known as Don Beto in these parts, the entire province of Naranjo had a smaller population than Heredia City, and most of the population was huddled into Naranjo City. Urbina lived in the northwest of the Province, in a small town nestled on the Salsa Peninsula, north of Matina. This town was home to his family, which were the only people he ever trusted or enjoyed the company of.

Urbina’s arrival was met with a crowd of people. Urbina was sitting in the back of a car with the roof down, sitting in front of him and facing him were two of his campaign managers. Urbina was fifty-five years old, and switched between displaying a youthful vigor and a frail, slow motioned old man. For almost the entire drive, the two campaign managers attempted to engage Urbina in a discussion over his campaign, but he seemed uninterested. He spent the majority of the drive tipping his hat and waving to people.

“Sir…Sir, if I may just say, it is good to have you home.” Luis said.

“It’s a strange twist of events that a shutdown of our nation’s government would bring such happiness to me,” Urbina answered.

“Before we begin talks on your campaign, I think it essential you visit your family,” Luis stated, Urbina simply smiled back.

When Urbina arrived at his home, he stepped out of the car and hurried to greet his family. His wife, three sons, and brother were at the home waiting for him. Though no man could question the love Urbina had for his children, he often spent a great deal of time away from them. He didn’t want his family to be in Heredia, he feared it would corrupt them. After a long family reunion and a large dinner, the family went to bed, all except for Urbina, who was in his study, reading over newspaper after newspaper. Looking at the time, Urbina went to the front door of his home and opened it to find three people standing there, all three of them were members of the National Guard.

“I assume you got the letter?” one of them asked.

“Come, there is much to discuss,” Urbina responded, stepping out of the house.

 

[Oneida]

CIUDAD DE HEREDIA

Urbina’s train came to a halt in the station he was to get off at. The Chamber was recalled into session and he was, of course, expected to attend. Urbina stepped out of the train to a surprising thunderous applause. Waving to the crowd, he took off his hat and held it over his chest as he did so. Caught up in the moment, an aid reminded him the haste they had to make. Urbina followed him to his car.

When Urbina sat into the back of the car, he noticed that Rafael Rodriguez sitting next to him. Rodriguez was head of the Supreme Electoral Tribunal and responsible for the operations of the special elections. Urbina looked at him, seemed not to be phased, and pulled a copy of the bible out of his coat jacket and opened it.

“Surely a man as busy as yourself taking the time to see me merits no good news,” Urbina stated.

“Perhaps you could put the book away for a moment so we can talk?” Rodriguez suggested.

“I had a good time in Naranjo, the weather this time of year is comforting and the quiet of the country appears to me as a gift from the lord himself,” Urbina answered “if you are here to talk to me, my assumption is you bring bad news, I am in no mood for it.”

“It’s about the elections, there’s something not right,” Rodriguez said “I made this trip unannounced because I legitimately fear what would happen if they found out I was talking to you.”

“If something is wrong with the elections than should it not behoove you to be with the Tribunal working it out as opposed to offering me your ever appreciated company?” Urbina asked.

“I’ve worked on so many elections. I love my work and I keep record of voting districts just because I enjoy to see the trends. This election follows no trends, Beto, none. There are districts that have been strongly socialist that are now staunchly conservative,” Rodrgiuez stated “Valerio Terrazas has never gotten less than 60% of the vote, in his district 78% of the votes are counted and he’s trailing by three points.”

“Terrazas abandoned the socialists, he’s paying for it,” Urbina answered, still uninterested.

“Entire districts aren’t reporting, my guess as of now is nearly 100,000 votes cast aren’t be counted and that number is likely to increase,” Rodriguez said “No one is reporting delays or issues yet voter turnout is significantly lower than even our wildest estimates.”

“Let’s skip this, why are you telling me this?” Urbina asked.

“There’s troop movements that are strange, nearly 5,000 are in Fortaleza Frescaño. Prior to Zavala’s announcement, only 1,500 were there. Why are troops moving into the city limits? There’s been more regulation over my tribunal and inconsistencies that I can’t ignore. Beto please, something is not right here, the elections are fraud,” Rodriguez stated “the article released by La Prensa Libre was written hours before polls even closed.”

Urbina closed his bible and took off his glasses, twirling them around in his hand. He looked to Rodriguez with a troubled look on his face, something not typical of the ever calm and collected Roberto Urbina of Naranjo.

“When I was home, soldiers delivered to me a letter from General Escamilla. He’s been put into command of the soldiers in Naranjo,” Urbina said.

“And what did the letter say?” Rodriguez asked.
“It said not to return to Heredia,” Urbina replied, after a long pause.

VICTOR ALLENDE'S OFFICE
CIUDAD DE HEREDIA

“Victor Allende, I hope you had an entertaining two weeks. I can attest to my comfortable time in Naranjo,” Urbina said, as he took a seat on the couch opposite of Allende. Urbina took a relaxed position, crossing his left leg over his right and stretched his left arm out over the couch. Allende was sitting much more formally.

“I would have liked to get work done. Instead, two weeks were wasted bickering over these proposals of yours,” Allende replied.

“Yes, ensuring the survivability of republicanism and the rule of law to favor the people does indeed warrant episodes of bickering,” Urbina replied.

“I think we can work something out,” Allende stated “I know your politics, I know you. You only want this constitution to get through and I’m proposing that we will pass it. In return, your party drops its demand to remove the Sylvanian military base and reelect me as Senior Tribune. After next year’s regular elections, you can vote for whomever you so desire.”

Allende slid to Urbina several documents, each detailed information gathered on Sylvania from the base. Most notably, there is a crisis near the Danish Faroes that drew the unification of a Sylvanian fleet to deal with.

“You don’t need to inform me of the base’s strategic importance,” Urbina said “it’s not what I’m interested in.”

“Having this intel gives us a diplomatic edge that we’d otherwise not have,” Allende responded.

“No. Unless the Sylvanians are truly daft, which I doubt they are, they are well aware of the fact we are bugging their base. If you look at the wording, they were to remain radio silent and the fleet wasn’t told why to move, only to move. So there is a problem in the Faroes, it’s no concern of mine,” Urbina proclaimed.

“Then what concerns you?” Allende asked.

“There are 5,000 soldiers stationed in Fortaleza Frescaño. Why?” Urbina asked.

“I’m not entirely sure, it’s not on my list of priorities at the moment,” Allende replied.

“Six Sylvanian boats leave our shores and that has your full attention, but several thousand soldiers sitting outside the demilitarized zone in Heredia just flies beneath your radar?” Urbina asked.

“The movements of our national guard is not as concerning as the movements of the greatest threat to our country,” Allende responded.

“Sylvania is the greatest threat to this country because you’ve labeled them as such, you’re picking a fight,” Urbina stated, and then rose from the couch “I assume you’ve already spoken with Tribune Zavala about this deal of yours. His refusal was most definitely swifter than my own. The people shall decide their government, not you nor I.”

Urbina then left the room, leaving an angry Allende alone until moments later, Foreign Minister Hernandez entered.

“I really thought Urbina would approve of the deal. He’s more concerned with the constitution than he is Sylvania’s base,” Hernandez said.

“Clemente, why are there 5,000 soldiers in Fortaleza Frescaño?” Allende replied.

URBINA'S OFFICE
CIUDAD DE HEREDIA


“Tribune Urbina,” his secretary said, offering to take his coat and hat. Urbina smiled and walked into his office. He sat down at his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out the letter from General Escamilla.

“Beto, you and I have been friends for a good, long time. I find it as a duty of a friend to send this letter to you, despite my oaths as a soldier of the National Guard. I will not go into further detail, due to the sensitivity of the topic, but I must warn you that things aren’t right in Heredia. As a friend, I am warning you not to return to the city,” the letter read.

 

[Tyvia]

Office of the Defense Committee Chairman
Agusan del Norte, Ferezanno

A handful of reports appeared on his desk in unison, placed there by the same smiling analyst whom Felipe del Ciro had become so fond of. The aging statesman made a show of leafing through the manila-bound documents, his brows coming down in stormy contemplation as his dark eyes quickly darted over the content.

“So what can we assume from initial indicators?” he asked the younger man, folding his hands atop one of the folders.

“It’s a total farce, the whole damned thing. You’d need some proper investigation to determine just to what extent, but both military and OAE contacts can confirm that. Rigged right from the start.”

A grunt was thus released, del Ciro jotting down notes as they spoke on a nearby notepad. His handwriting was elegant, with elongated flourishes and a tendency to draw out the curves on the longer letters. “Are there any indications of counter-action from any strata of politics or government as yet?”

“Only murmurings, insofar as we can tell. However--. .” the youth leaned forward to open up one of the folders, flipping through it to display several photographs and a detailed set of lists with commentary attached.

“Troop movements?” del Ciro asked, an eyebrow raised. “That would seem to indicate some pre-knowledge of these unfolding events. Can the Aurarian military be implicated in this?”

The analyst shook his head, the content of nearly all those reports somehow lingering foremost in his mind. “We don’t believe so, sir,” he slowly began, “the OAE agrees with our armed forces’ analysis that these movements seem to be primarily reactionary in nature. It’s actually quite telling that Heredia is where they’re concentrated.”

“Telling?”

“Many tribunes have their homes there.”

“But you don’t think that the troops were deployed there on any of their orders?”

“It’s impossible to say for certain at this moment, sir, but we believe not. At the present time, we should assume that it’s an independent entity. It could be the conservatives, the liberals, the socialists—or the military operating of its own accord, sir.”

“Then we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?” del Ciro responded, beginning the process anew of flipping through the assorted documents heaped before him. A hand ran through his greying hair, softly adjusting the ponytail into which he’d tied it. Taking his words as a dismissal, the analyst filed out the door, shutting it closed behind him.

Plucking up the phone, del Ciro made a call to one of his subordinates and good friends: Major General Agustino Sanchéz-Seletti.

“Agustino, I need you to move some men down to Catamarca and Valladolid. Set them to operational readiness. You read the news, right?”

“The elections?” his hoarse voice called back. Sanchéz-Seletti had been struggling with emphysema for the last few years, a consequence of a childhood spent smoking cigars, but he nevertheless somehow managed to keep himself in active service.

“I’ll send a few documents your way. I’ll have to brief the Committee tomorrow, but I think we can keep it executive for now; the President will agree. We’re going to sit on our asses and wait to see what happens, but we’re thinking that things won’t be staying peaceful for all that long. Some really strange troop movements happening on their end, our intel says.”

“Any authorization for independent discretionary action on our end?”

“Very limited. You may want to try to redirect the Saha traffic, but at best just tell them to steer clear of the border. Don’t move unless you get a direct order, unless there’s signs of actual conflict in the bordering regions. Patrol and observe for now.”

“Understood. I’ll place the 44th Composite and the 12th Rifle on it, respectively. How many men do you want?”

“Let’s assume the worst. They might not like it, but they’re too busy to take notice. It’s not like it’s unusual for us to stage exercises in the desert. If anyone asks, we’ve got a good reason for it.”

With that, their conversation ended, only a few paltry formalities exchanged thereafter. Hanging up, del Ciro asked for his secretary to bring him up a cup of coffee from the lounge downstairs, releasing a wearied sigh. He spun about in his swivel chair, staring out the broad window which cast the light of the setting sun into his office, and at the bustling harbor of Agusan del Norte.


Ministry of the Exterior
Agusan del Norte, Ferezzano

“Do we actually have any intention of sending observers?” Rodrigo de Santo asked, his features grim and worried. The man, going on his late thirties, had a face which looked perpetually uneasy, and a manner which suggested that he viewed the world as responsible for his ails. As a foreign affairs advisor for the Ministry of the Exterior, he was thankfully restricted to their facilities in Agusan del Norte, for allowing him to actually go overseas would be incredibly untactful, thought Enrique Aritza Espinoza.

A stocky man in his late forties, Enrique Aritza Espinoza was the de facto head of the foreign affairs board of the Ministry of the Exterior. Though foreign affairs were generally the purview of the Ministry, it was also responsible for international commerce as concerned Andaluz, among plethora other such tasks. Thus there were separate departments, all accountable to the minister. Having lost his hair almost ten years hence, Espinoza now cut an intimidating figure, and it was probably for the best that he too rarely left the capital.

“Of course,” he confirmed, pausing in his gait to look about at de Santo. A mug of coffee was clasped in his hand, steam gently wafting upward in the chill morning air. The sea was cold, and the wind it brought with it similarly so. Few buildings in Agusan del Norte were heated year-round, even government ones, and so they were always a touch cool in the mornings.

“Of course?”

“They may be skeptical of it, but our system has been proven to work. If they want to have international representation or intervention in their electoral process, then it will be provided without hesitation. We owe it to our neighbors.”

“We owe it to our neighbors?” de Santo repeated, his sarcastic tone making his cynicism and disbelief quite apparent. A thin smile appeared on Espinoza’s face as he replied, taking a sip from his mug before saying anything.
“You’ve been doing analysis for the last week in Auraria, Rodrigo. Who else gives a damn about Auraria but us?”

“Sylvania.”

“Right, and so you can see why we care, too.”

 

[Oneida]

CIUDAD DE HEREDIA

Pablo Piñera was staring out his window at the giant plume of black smoke rising in the distant. The radio was on and speaking about a massive fire erupting at the Supreme Electoral Tribunal’s headquarters. Over the last few days, businesses in Heredia were closed and the streets were becoming battlegrounds for protestors and the police.

Piñera’s church was located a good distance from the center of the protests, which offered a degree of calmness. He was playing with the cross that was hanging around his neck. No one wanted to mention it, but that building had extensive records on the recent special elections that were still under review despite the Senate’s decision. Now, those records were gone. Piñera’s thoughts were drowned out by the roaring arguments coming from Aureliano Zavala and Rafael Ramirez.

“I’m not leaving this city,” Zavala roared.

“It’s not safe here, we need to listen to Urbina and head to Puerto Viejo with great haste!” Ramirez shot back.

“His cowardice will not be my own! This city needs me and all other members of the Government, there’s a crisis and running away won’t solve it,” Zavala replied.

“Gentlemen, please. This excessive yelling is serving to no one’s benefit,” Piñera replied “Urbina is no coward, he made a decision that he could better help from outside Heredia. I can’t at the present moment agree or disagree with that. Right now, we need to get Ramirez out of this city.”

A woman came bursting through the door, in tears. She was painting with a vigor as she tried to catch her breath, Piñera walked up to her to try and help her calm down.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked.

“They’re coming, they’re coming. We’ve got to leave, they’re coming,” the woman continuously repeated.

Zavala stepped back and walked to the window, pushing the curtains slightly aside to see what has happening on the street, trucks were arriving and surrounding the building. The curious thing was they were military vehicles, well within city limits, Zavala turned with alarm towards Ramirez, who uttered “what?”

“Father, there are military vehicles outside,” Zavala stated.

“Wait here,” the Father replied, as he rose from the woman and walked downstairs. Sure enough, he saw soldiers already within the church, the captain saw him and approached.

“Father Pablo Piñera, we have a search warrant for this premise, please step aside and we’ll be out of your way in a short time,” the captain replied.

“Surely there’s no need for such excessive force, this is a church of the Lord,” Piñera uttered out, which did little to stir the soldier. The soldier’s attention was turned to an angry Aureliano Zavala, speedily coming down the stairs.

“What in the name of God are you doing here?” Zavala roared “this is within Heredia City Limits, I will have you all arrested and discharged and pray the courts be kind.”

“Mr. Tribune, step aside,” the soldier replied, Zavala moved forward, several soldiers stepped up and pointed their guns.

Other soldiers rushed up the stairs, without much delay they brought down Rafael Ramirez, in hand cuffs. The captain saw this and turned to Piñera “you’re under arrest for harboring a fugitive.”

Soldiers moved in, but the people of the church resisted, and a struggle ensued. Piñera yelled for calm as soldiers began to brutally beat the people in the church, Zavala intervened, pulling a soldier off one of the members and punched him in the face. The sound of a gun firing brought silence and stillness to the church.

Piñera looked up and saw Zavala fall to the ground, he was speechless as he and others were thrown to the ground and placed in handcuffs.

CAPITAL DISTRICT
CIUDAD DE HEREDIA

“Sir! Sir!” a soldier came running into Captain Ricardo Ortega’s office. Ortega was the commanding officer of the Presidential Guard, a 200 strong division of soldiers tasked with defending the Capital District in the event of any national crisis.

“Soldier,” Ortega replied.

“Thousands of troops from Fortaleza Frescaño have crossed into Heredia City Limits and are moving closer to the Capital District. Rumors are spreading that Aureliano Zavala has been killed and Rafael Ramirez is in custody,” the soldier declared.

“Who gave them orders to enter?” Ortega asked.

“All we know is that José Acre is currently in command at Fortaleza Frescaño,” the soldier replied.

“Acre’s ordered an invasion of Heredia?” Ortega asked to himself “Listen up, this changes nothing, no one – not even soldiers – crosses into the Capital District, that is an order!”

 

[Oneida]

CAPITAL DISTRICT
CIUDAD DE HEREDIA

“Captain Ortega, Fortaleza Frescaño ordered us to stand aside and allow several squads to move in and secure the area, Chief Director Acre himself is coming to the city,” a soldier reported.

“Respond that the Chief Director has no legal basis for troops entering this city,” Ortega replied and the soldier obeyed.

“Command reports that due to the current crisis, normal operations have been suspended and the Chief Director has intervened to bring order to the city,” the soldier stated.

“I have a feeling we don’t want his order,” Ortega muttered.

“Sir?” the soldier asked.

“Inform Fortaleza Frescaño that the constitution demands the Chief Director remove his troops from the city immediately and that my battalion will not stand down,” Ortega declared.

“Sir, they stated that if we do not obey, they will open fire,” the soldier stated, hesitantly.

“Son, José Acre is attempting a coup d’état on this country and I’ll be damned if I allow it. If he crosses our lines, the government will end. Go inform the men, we do not move from this position,” Ortega replied.

The room was silent, but the awe only lasted for a short time as they scrambled to prepare for Acre’s soldiers’ arrival. Sure enough, it did not take long for jeeps to begin appearing, moving closer and closer to the barricade. The jeeps stopped and gave the Presidential Guard only moments to give an answer, and then it was decided. The first shots were fired.

The fighting in the Capital District could be heard across the city, and it caused a panic. Acre’s forces were ordered to retain order and moved most civilians inside as the sounds of gunfire echoed throughout the city. The sound was strange, for many Aurarine people, the sound of gunfire never came to them. The fear in the city was palpable.

Nearly 1,000 soldiers were surrounding the Capital District, taking extreme caution to pay attention to collateral damage, as no one wanted to damage the area. It didn’t take long before the Presidential Guard was ordered to back up, being pushed further and further back into the center of the District. Being the Presidential Guard, the soldiers took point around the Presidential Palace, leaving the Congress building to be swallowed up by soldiers.

Acre’s soldiers were reluctant to use heavy firepower on the Presidential Palace, and this resulted in a great advantage for the Guard. Hours passed, hundreds of Acre’s men fell before the Presidential Guard began to realize the futility of their efforts. After nearly 7 hours of fighting, Acre’s men began to push into the Presidential Palace, and eventually made quick work of the remaining Presidential Guard.

Acre had arrived two hours earlier and walked up to a captured Ortega. Covered in blood, Ortega looked upon Acre with disgust.

“You’re a fucking traitor, look at what you’ve done! You murdered these people!” Ortega yelled.

“One day, they’ll call me a hero,” Acre responded, cool tempered.

“A hero? Some may call you that, but a hero does not use the power of guns to usurp the rightful government of Auraria and kill those who oppose him! You started this war! Plunged Auraria into chaos! One day, one day soon God will strike you down and restore order to this country!” Ortega screamed.

Acre walked away, towards the Presidential Palace, unopposed. Heredia was on fire, but order was finally on its way.

“My ancestors are smiling at me usurper! Can you say the same?!” Ortega screamed, before being carried away.

Acre walked into the Palace and up the stairs until he came to President Vicario’s office, soldiers were already present, making sure the President was safe. They stepped aside, allowing Acre to enter.

“I hope you know what you’ve done,” Vicario said.

“Over the last three years I’ve watched as this Republic’s silent protector. I’ve seen you and your people take full control of this country and remove the will of the people. You’ve systematically stripped away all political freedom and declared yourself President, a King in all but name. What I’ve done today is made a commitment – not to you, not to Congress, but to the people. Today, I make the guarantee to carry out my solemn pledge to defend the Republic by removing your corrupt filth from power,” Acre answered, before motioning for Vicario to be taken out.

Acre then moved to the President’s desk, and sat down in the chair. He leaned back, and turned around. He let out a sigh as he saw several plumes of smoke rising over the skyline of Auraria’s greatest city, the city of Heredia. Today, he would promise to restore peace.

 

[Tyvia]

Embassy of the Andal Commonwealth, Heredia

Almost as soon as the soldiers had begun their movement in proximity to the capital, the diplomats and security staff housed within the Andal embassy had been engaged in quick and almost frantic talks with the Ministry of the Exterior back home, as well as a few members of the Gran Consejo's Foreign Relations & Affairs Committee.

There were a few dissenting opinions on offer. Some wished to evacuate the staff of the embassy entirely—though that was decried by the majority as too vocal, abrupt, and major an action—while others believed that a simple strengthening of the security there would be sufficient to send a small message. It was a talk that went on for perhaps an hour, held between several different secretaries, stationed diplomats, and, ultimately, the ambassador to the Aurarine Republic himself, Joaquim Bróz-Ybarra.

“What's the word?” he asked with a sigh, picking up the latest ringing telephone. After that first hectic hour of discussion, the Ministry in Agusan del Norte had ordered them to go quiet, pending a consensus by several policy-makers there. Unless there was an emergency, some storming of the embassy, they were not to make any outgoing calls or send telegrams until they'd been given leave to do so. And so Bróz-Ybarra simply sat himself down in his office, propping his legs up on his wide, mahogany table, and consigned himself to trying to finish Joshua Bennett's Brick by Brick. Another fifteen pages were left to him when the phone rang, its irritating cacophony—by god, he was beginning to quite hate the sound of it—boring into his very being.

“Grab your gun,” was the response, the first line in the usual code-phrase.

“And bring in the cat,” Bróz-Ybarra echoed, massaging his temples. He leaned back in his chair and set the novel aside, whipping out a notepad from among his possessions as he listened to the deep voice on the other line.

“Our spooks and analysts don't think there's any real danger to you boys there,” said the Ministry goon, “so you're staying put, for the time being. We need an eye kept on developments in the capital as all this business with Urbina, Acre, and the military unfolds. I imagine you'll be getting more phone calls from higher up the chain sooner or later.”

“What a pleasure.”

“Isn't it just?” responded the man, a soft chuckle resonating through the line. “Right, so this might piss some people off. Got an order for you here, signed by del Ciro. You're to offer political sanctuary to any that ask of it within the embassy, even if Urbina, Acre, whomever, happen to stumble right on up and ask for it. We'll be making an official press release about that soon—so you may be getting a few panicked aristo-types strolling over.”

It took Bróz-Ybarra a moment to mull that one over, his pen flickering across the paper and setting down what was said faster than his mind could properly process it. His features creased, brows suddenly stormy as they furrowed and knit together. “Political sanctuary? We're to take on refugees? By the love of god, we don't have an enormous amount of space here—maybe fifty, maximum!”

“We only want the important ones anyway. Your security staff is certainly capable enough to vet them and pull out the interesting sorts. Make space. At the end of the day, you're all veterans. Make do,” the voice said, suddenly gruff.

With little more to be said, Bróz-Ybarra placed the phone back onto its receiver and rose from his chair. He would miss that swiveling, cushioned thing, for he'd be doing quite a bit of standing in the coming hours, he had no doubt. A sigh escaped him, and the ambassador exited out such as to attend to his security staff. The announcement might look incongruous to Acre's regime, but it was nevertheless the case that Urbina's message was now quite well distributed and discussed, and quite a few people displeased with the implications of it. Certainly, there was now sufficient justification for such an opening of the embassy—though Bróz-Ybarra still thought it brinkmanship to a certain degree. After all, if anyone decided to storm the embassy, it'd be unlikely that even the fastest regiment in the Commonwealth could reach them in time.

 

[Oneida]

OUTSKIRTS OF PRIMER
ALUCHE

“For a land devoid of war for more than a hundred years, the people here have taken a particular skill in killing each other,” Mateo Losa commented “gunfire and bombs are the music of Primer.”

“This is chaotic. I have no contact with anyone, I can’t direct anything, I have no knowledge of what’s happening in this city,” Reinaldo Loyola stated.

“Have we heard anything from the West?” Paquito Aqua asked.

“The last message we received from any of the rebels was Urbina’s declaration. The city fell into shambles shortly after. Four days of continuous fighting. This city is home to 15,000 soldiers, nearly half of Auraria’s airpower, and the largest fleet on the east coast and the West isn’t speaking with us,” Loyola answered.

“My guess is General Rubio is in continuous communication with the Usurper,” Losa stated “how long until he receives reinforcements?”

“I’d assume a while. There are reports of troubles in the southeast and I’m doubting that the Usurper has any interest in lowering his defense in Heredia. The West is more than likely organizing a massive army to take the city,” Aqua replied.

“The way Primer goes is the way the war goes. If we lose here, tanks, planes, guns, supplies, everything goes to Acre and then to Heredia. The West won’t be able to take Heredia if it’s reinforced by the soldiers and equipment here and Acre won’t be able to hold Heredia if Primer goes against him,” Loyola stated.

“How long until Andaluz invades? Sylvania?” Losa asked.

“Hopefully, the Faroes keep Sylvania’s attention. I pray that Urbina is working harder on Andaluz than Acre is. He’s a smart man, to ignore Andaluz would be foolish,” Aqua answered.

“Urbina’s also a proud man. He’d rather have the people rise up by the grace of God and overcome oppression. The stories won’t be as awe-inspiring if it was Andaluz that saved the day,” Loyola stated.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Aqua answered.

“Regardless, we need to establish communication with the West and organize our efforts here, that’s our job. Let the others worry about everything else,” Losa yelled.

50 MILES FROM SAN RAFAEL
NAVADIJOS

Machado puffed on his cigar as he watched the plume of smoke rise in the distance. Everyday his camp in the jungle grew larger. Now he had upwards of 60 people, all with their own guns and ammo. All of them were victims of the finca system that had dominated the southeastern economy for centuries.

“Calderon’s place?” Mendez asked, walking up to Machado.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Machado answered “more people have died for that man that any other.”

“Justice,” Mendez defined “Soon the people will beckon for us as we liberate them across the country. In time you’ll sit in Heredia, they’ll demand it.”

“The people only care for health, warmth, and livelihood. They don’t care for the games the elites play,” Machado answered “the only people concerned with who sits in Heredia are the powerful.”

“You don’t seek Heredia?” Mendez asked.

“I seek the revolution. When we are done here, Heredia will be a past notion, we will form a truly free republic where these injustices do not exist. We will start with liberating Navadijos,” Machado answered “First, we’ll need an army, so come, we’re going to the next finca.”
[MENTION=5]Sylvania[/MENTION] [MENTION=295]Andaluz[/MENTION]

 

[Oneida]

LA CIUDAD DE FILADELFIA
ALUCHE

There were no words, no smiles, and no joy. For seven days a battle raged on in Primer, a battle widely popularized as the one that would determine the fate of Auraria. In only seven days, nearly six thousand lives were purged from the planet. Most of those lives belonged to the rebels, who failed to achieve a victory in Primer and retreated south to the city of Fildelfia, which was firmly in the control of the rebel forces.

General Tristán Rubio successfully organized his forces and quelled the rebellion in Primer. Many had hope that God was on the side of the rebels, which was the only advantage they had. Once General Rubio made sense of the battle and actual frontlines were drawn, the superior equipment and communication amongst loyalist forces proved more than adequate. Moreover, the loss in Primer meant planes, ships, firepower, ammunition, supplies, tanks, vehicles, were now all firmly in the hands of loyalist forces.

Morale was low in Filadelfia, it was well known that the city would come under attack by a unified, well equipped, and well planned invasion force. If Rubio ultimately defeated the rebel army in Aluche, then Heredia would receive a substantial amount of reinforcements, which would lead to an invasion of Valle Occidental and the eventual defeat of Roberto Urbina’s November Revolution.

Reinaldo Loyola has taken command of the rebel forces in Primer and Filadelfia offered advantages that Primer did not. Upon arrival, Loyola was able to contact the city of Orotina, which had become the command center for the rebel forces. Though there was no good news to report to the command, the fact that the two largest armies could now communicate is by all means valuable.

 

[Oneida]

OUTSIDE HEREDIA
HEREDIA PROVINCE

“I so strongly oppose this, Beto,” General García stated.

“If we do not secure this city, we lose the war. Acre believes Coronado’s forces will be fighting in Aluche, we open the attack in Heredia, and then Coronado comes in and now the city is fighting on two fronts, once we win Heredia, the army we have here joins up and we end the resistance in Primer,” Urbina replied.

“Heredia is incredibly defensible, we should wait until the reinforcements from Coronado arrive,” García said.

“Heredia is the most defensible city in this country. We outnumber Acre’s army there and with Aluche in turmoil and Coronado in rebellion, there is no resupply line for Heredia. A lot of our soldiers will die, but it will distract Acre’s defenses. They won’t suspect Coronado to make a move on Heredia, we will push into this city and we take it,” Urbina confirmed.

“And if we lose?” García asked.

“Then God was not on our side,” Urbina answered.

“He’s right, sitting here and waiting for a break won’t create one. I will lead this attack, we will take Heredia, and we will free this country and end the war before Christmas,” Escamilla declared.

“They have 6,000. We have 15,000. Coronado will deliver another 5,000 reinforcements, and when we team up, we’ll end the communists and take back Primer,” Urbina stated.

“Shall the jets be scrambled?” García asked.

“We don’t hold back on this one, focus the air attack on Fortaleza Fescaño, let that abomination be in rubble,” Escamilla said.

“Let us not be so anxious to raze the largest and capital city of the Republic,” Urbina replied.

“So begins the Battle for Heredia,” Escamilla replied.

 

[Oneida]

[FONT=&quot]BATTLE FOR HEREDIA[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]LA CIUDAD DE HEREDIA[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]DAY 2[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Ricardo Riveras and Julian Rosa were running through the streets, the air raid sirens were deafening across the city, trumped only by the terrifying roar of an explosion. The feeling of broken glass crunching every time their boots hit the ground was almost equally as unnerving. The two were snipers, and were one of many groups sent to sneak into the city to help cover the rebel advance. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The two stopped at a corner and their backs smacked against a wall. Rivieras peered over, to see what was on the other side of the wall, and there was a car with about four soldiers standing there guarding one that was changing a tire. Another soldier laid on the ground, missing half his leg, screaming in pain.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Rivieras turned from the sight and pressed his back against the wall. He looked at the scene, the mountains that were constantly in the background of Heredia, and he felt strangely bitter.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Somewhere,” he thought “somewhere he’s standing there watching as people throw their lives away for him.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“What’s there?” Rosa asked.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“A car, and 6 people total, four soldiers,” Rivieras said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Hostile?” Rosa asked.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Hostile,” Rivieras confirmed. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Are we going around or killing them?” Rosa pressed on.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I guess killing,” Rivieras answered, peering out again “Grenade?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Rosa patted himself down, looking for a grenade. When he found one, he handed it to Rivieras. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Go, get to the roof of this building, when I throw the grenade, open fire,” Rivieras directed, and Rosa obeyed. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]He waited several minutes for Rosa to make the roof, took a deep breath, looked over, and quickly chucked the grenade. He heard fire from Rosa’s gun and then an ungodly loud screeching sound, no sound a grenade would make. When Rivieras looked to see what the source of the demonic sound was, he immediately jumped away as a fighter jet crashed into the street.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The explosion was massive, and Rivieras found himself covered in rubble. The heat was unbearable and he sat, under the rubble for moments, before finding the strength to begin to try and free himself. When he got his upper body free, he attempted to move, and discovered his left leg was pinned down, the pain from that was quickly silenced when he took in the sight. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The entire block was ablaze, buildings collapsed, there was no sign of life, anywhere. Heat waves blocked a clear view, and Rivieras considered that somewhat of a sick, twisted blessing. His attention was quickly grabbed by movement. He turned and saw three soldiers standing, pointing guns at him. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Well, how do you like that?” Rivieras thought.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Zarcas, outside of Heredia[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“General Suarez, Zarcas is ours, Parasio fell about an hour ago. Both teams are ready to advance on Heredia,” an aid reported.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“And the attack on Heredia?” Suarez asked.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“The death toll is rising…quickly,” the aid replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Then it is imperative we get there quickly,” Suarez responded. “Do we have word on Aluche?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Allied forces have refused to leave Filadelfia, they will need help,” the aid answered. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Heredia is chief priority, if we win this battle than the war is over. As of now, all railroads and roads going into Heredia will be closed down, that bastard Acre is not leaving this city until every single one of us is dead,” Suarez replied. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Then shall I order the advance?” the aid asked.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“We go for Heredia, tomorrow we join this battle,” Suarez confirmed. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Mountains outside of Heredia[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Mr. Urbina, we have a letter from the High Kingdom of Ivernia,” an aid said, rushing into the tent. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Very well,” Urbina grabbed the letter and read it. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Well?” General Escamilla said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“The Ivernians want representatives to speak on our behalf to end the bloodshed,” Urbina answered.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“And who will you send?” Escamilla asked.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“No one. Talking didn’t work here, I doubt it will work there. Jose Acre and I both know that as soon as shots were fired in Heredia, this conflict escalated to be beyond words, now only force will bring a winner,” Urbina replied “the one who wins here will win this war.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“At any rate, if you’re captured or killed than our cause is truly finished. I can’t believe they don’t have spies in these mountains, I would like it if you returned to Puerto Viejo in Valle Occidental,” Escamilla said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Surely if Mr. Urbina is protected by God, as he supports our cause,” the aid interrupted.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“No, God had forsaken us a long time ago,” Urbina replied.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Presidential Palace[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“I can’t believe it,” Acre said, watching from his balcony. “All this death, all this destruction.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Your orders?” asked Commander Gonzales.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“These rebels have shown they’re ready for an advanced form of warfare. Now we don’t hold back, this city will not be lost, this war will not be lost. All of them will die,” Acre said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Sir, soldiers from Coronado have seized Zarcas and Parasio, there is no doubt they’re advancing on Heredia,” an aid said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Of course, there’s no reason to go after Primer if Heredia isn’t secured,” Commander Gonzales said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot] [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Tell General Rubio to attack Filadelfia now, I want that city secured in two days’ time. As for here, like I said, kill them all.”[/FONT]

 

[Oneida]

It had been half a year since Roberto Urbina stepped foot in the Presidential Palace. It was an unsettling feeling for him to have soldiers at his side as he walked through the building. Unlike Heredia, which lay in ruins from the war, the Presidential Palace remained pristine. It was, after all, the residence of José Acre. Roberto Urbina was led into the conference room of the palace, where he took a seat at the head of the table, facing the entrance, with his back to windows which gave a fantastic view of the now destroyed city.

Shortly after Urbina’s seating, in walked General Julio Escamilla, who sat at Urbina’s right and General García who sat at his left. General Suárez of Coronado sat next to Escamilla. These four men symbolized the heroes of the nation, the ones who lead the revolution against the aristocracy. There were no words being spoken, everyone was consumed by feelings.
Then, in walked General Tristan Rubio, the man who led the defense of Primer on the side of General Acre. He looked around at the available seats and begrudgingly walked to the side of General García and went to sit next to him.

“No,” Urbina spoke to Rubio.

“Excuse me?” the General replied.

“That seat is for Representative Aureliano Zavala, the man who started the revolution and the first to lose his life in,” Urbina explained.

Rubio, surprisingly acted respectfully and sat in the seat next to Zavala’s. After him walked in Victor Allende, Senior Tribune under the old government. He sat next across from Zavala. Next to Allende sat President Vicario. Then, at the other end of the table, across from Roberto Urbina, sat down General José Acre.

“So, we’re all here,” Urbina stated.

“I only ask that Reldón Vicario and his government is reinstated to power. They are, after all, the rightful government you so spoke of,” Acre opened.

“Principally, you’re in no position to ask anything of me. You’re only alive right now because I am a civilized man. Secondly, they tampered with the democratic elections to maintain power, as of now, there is no rightful government of Auraria. That being said, we’re going to fall on a very realistic strategy, he with the biggest gun has power,” Urbina declared.

President Vicario tried to protest, Allende silenced him. Acre looked on with a scowl, and the generals of Urbina enjoyed his assertive nature, something very uncommon of the man. After a brief period of silence, Urbina rose from his chair and spoke again.

“Today, we end this war. Today Aurarians stop killing each other and sensibility returns to our Republic. The old ways are long gone. For the time being, a new transition council will be put into power so that the implementation of the new constitution goes through peacefully and smoothly. Elections will then be held to fill the positions that the constitution calls. At such time, the new government will be sworn in. That will be the rightful government of Auraria, from that day henceforth,” Urbina declared.

General Escamilla pulled up a brief case and pulled out a document, handing it to Urbina, which he laid it on the table and signed it immediately. The document was then passed around the room, each member signed it until it came to General Acre, who stared at it intently.

“What about us?” Acre asked.

“What about you?” Urbina responded.

“The citizens who fought for my cause, the ones who supported the constitutional process, the ones brave enough to stand up to you, what becomes of them?” Acre demanded “what becomes of me?”

“All military personnel shall be granted amnesty, as put forth by the treaty. They were only following orders. However, for those in charge, including President Vicario, you’ll be put on trial, charged with treason against the Aurarine State. The legal system shall decide your fate, not me,” Urbina replied.

All a long pause, Acre signed the treaty. Despite his opposition initially, the signature was symbolic, he had no standing to refuse. He had lost, his war and career were over. The rebellion had won, the revolution had ended. Roberto Urbina was propelled to be de facto leader of Auraria.

After the signature, Vicario, Acre, Rubio, and Allende were put in handcuffs and walked away. Urbina slumped back into his chair, leaning forward and cupping his face with his arms, which were supported by the table. After a sigh, he turned around to see the city of Heredia.

“I noticed you don’t have your Bible with you,” Escamilla stated.

“I don’t care to carry it around anymore,” Urbina replied “The events that have transpired over these last few months does nothing but prove that we are alone on this planet. No God would allow such a travesty to destroy a country that praised him so.”

“That’s why they call it faith, Beto. He works in mysterious ways,” Escamilla replied, sarcastically.

“I’ll put my faith in our people. Rebuilding this country will be a consorted effort of all peoples, rich or poor, able or not,” Urbina stated.

“Well, I fought the war, now it’s your turn to do the politics,” Escamilla answered, Urbina laughed.

“Oh no, no my friend,” Urbina replied, turning his chair to face Escamilla “You’re a soldier turned politician now. Your job isn’t done, get ready to trade the uniform for a suit.”

 

[Oneida]

Roberto Urbina was walking through the hallway, holding a folder under his arm. The constitution demanded that Heredia City be separated from Heredia Province and made into an autonomous district under the direction control of the Federal Government. Despite the constitutional provision, the government of Heredia Province remained less than cooperative. He figured there would be some kind of resistance, but Urbina never suspected that he himself would sit down with the provincial government.

Urbina was working on virtually no sleep. He had been aware from his wife, children, and grandchildren for so long. Being the family man that he was, separation from his loved ones always struck a bad cord with his psyche. Now that he was on the national stage, and no longer a Tribune from Naranjo, frequent trips back home would cease. He was struggling with the idea of bringing his family to Heredia. Even though he enjoyed his time in the nation’s capital, he still firmly believed the city was a giant cesspool of filth and cooperation and most unsuitable for children, especially his own children. Now he had no choice, it was either his family comes to Heredia, or he doesn’t see his family. The stress of being the President of the Transition Council and most likely being pressured to run for President of the Republic, made separation from his family an inconceivable thought.

Juggling his personal life with his professional one was relatively easy, but never lacking in stress. After he completed his Council sessions, he was immediately herded off to some meeting, then some other meeting, another meeting after that – then lunch and dinner – and finished with another meeting. Running the current government, begrudgingly prepping for a presidential run, and organizing the new Progressive Party consumed 24 hours a day.

Despite his lack of sleep and burden of an entire nation on his shoulders, his smile and charming personality never left. To some extent, he thoroughly enjoyed being herded around like cattle. So many people cared about what he said, his raising a finger moved a nation. The whole things did wonders for his ego.

Urbina arrived at the office room and opened the door. In the room were several members from a delegation from Heredia Province. He did a quick scan and smiled.

“Mr. Travaglio couldn’t attend?” Urbina asked.

“Sorry, Mr. President, the Governor is drowning in his own work,” the representative responded.

“Surely, I can relate,” Urbina replied.

He took his seat and threw off his coat and undid his tie, and unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. Urbina always kept a very relaxed, unprofessional persona about him.

“So, the autonomous district of Heredia,” Urbina began.

“Yes. The Governor is concerned of the economic impact of Heredia being stripped from the Province,” he representative began “As I’m sure you’re aware, the city is an economic powerhouse.”

“It’s also fairly destroyed at the moment. Truly a drain on a struggling economy, a drain that the Federal Government could better handle. I don’t mean to use that as an excuse, this Republic shall exist for a while, Heredia will not be destroyed forever. Soon it’ll turn back to his former glory – even more so, and I’m sure anyone with any economic sense would want a piece of that,” Urbina answered.

“Exactly,” the representative agreed.

“Unfortunately, the constitution demands that Heredia be made an autonomous district, to prevent conflicts of interests between Federal and Provincial Government. I needn’t sit here and list off examples of that under President Vicario,” Urbina contested.

“Vicario’s government was riddled with corruption,” the representative argued “this government will be different.”

“Oh my friend, government is corruption. The terms are almost interchangeable. My goal is to try and minimize its effect. This is one of the ways I intend to do so,” Urbina laughed.

“The economic aspect?” the representative asked.

“Please, Central Valley is more the hub of economic activity than Heredia. Parasio or Zarcas can easily take over the economic position of Heredia for the Province,” Urbina replied “Look, I am trying to appease people, but I’ve come to fully accept and internalize that with this position of national clout, I am going to anger many people. The constitution demands that the Autonomous District of Heredia be formed, separate and independent of Heredia Province. That said, as President of the Transition Council, tasked with implementing the constitution that tens of thousands of people gave their lives for, I will create said district.”

“I was hoping you’d be more willing to work with us,” the representative said.

“Your hopes are answered. I promise the full support and cooperation of the transition council and soon-to-be Federal Government. I will ensure a smooth and easy transition for us both,” Urbina promised.

The representatives smiled and rose. As they walked out, Urbina felt he accomplished little, but his position was made clear. The constitution demands it, therefore it shall be done. Within five minutes there was a knock on the door, which prompted a smile from Urbina.

Not even five minutes to myself, he thought “Come in!” He yelled.

“Archbishop Ureña would like to speak with you before he heads off to the covenant in Tiburtania,” Escamilla said.

“May all the Gods help me now,” Urbina replied sarcastically “Bring him in I suppose. I mean, there’s definitely nothing more pressing to attend to than the needs of the Tiburan Catholics.”

“Sir, they are a powerful block in this country, it would be unwise to make enemies out of them,” Escamilla said.

“Don’t call me sir. We’re friends, Julio, don’t you dare forget that,” Urbina commanded “As for our good friends the Tiburans Catholics, I believe they and I will disagree a lot in the future. I might as well prepare for that now.”

 

[Oneida]

March 6, 1954

Clemente Osvaldo Hernández, the foreign policy guru of the Aurarine Republic, sat before Roberto Urbina. Urbina and Hernández have an entirely different physique and tone among them. Hernández was a freakishly tall man and equally thin. He had a long face, huge ears, cold dark eyes, and black hair that was gelled back in the most elitist manner he could manage. Hernández came from an incredibly privileged background and he was one of the nation’s leading experts on foreign policy and directed foreign policy for the last three years. The background he has, he shows by his demeanor. He often acts as though everyone wastes his time. Even before the President, he acted as though his precious minutes were being stolen from him.

“The Transition Council has determined to open the Foreign Affairs Ministry before the actual implementation of the Federal Government. It’s a decision I proposed, I think it is important that we get back onto the world stage,” Urbina declared.

“I agree. We need to stabilize our foreign relations and create legitimacy among this government of yours,” Hernández answered.

“Can I ask you an important question?” Urbina asked, Hernández nodded “When the revolution broke out, and you ran off to Sylvania at a most impressive pace, what did you do there?”

Hernández immediately caught on to Urbina’s rather stern tone.

“I represented our government in Sylvania, the nation that had a military force stationed in Primer,” Hernández responded.

“The military force that left to deal with the Faroes? Is that the one we’re discussing?” Urbina asked, Hernández didn’t respond.

“Right, what was your mission in Sylvania. Five months we were at war, not once did Sylvania intervene. Which is strange for a nation with such an economic and military investment in Occidentia,” Urbina pressed further.

“I wanted to prevent Sylvanian intervention. It was an internal conflict, one we needed to resolve,” Hernández said.

“And now 70,000 are dead,” Urbina shot back “Tens of thousands being slaughtered in Sylvania’s back door and they never once considered intervening.”

“I would propose a certain responsibility of those deaths onto a certain individual,” Hernández heavily implied.

Urbina became infuriated. He always kept a happy demeanor about himself, but internally he could not reconcile the thought that 70,000 lay dead in Auraria from a war he lead. The few hours of the day he tried to sleep he remained awake in bed thinking of all the families who have lost loved ones as a result of the revolution.

“I have no more interest in playing nice with you,” Urbina said, in a cold tone.

“Oh really?” Hernández responded.

“As far as I am concerned, you went to Sylvania and purposefully instructed them to not do a damn thing in Auraria because it was so damn obvious the revolutionaries would lose, especially after the defeat in Primer. Eventually your tone changed when it became clear the rebels would win, so you pressured Sylvania once more to remain neutral, let things play out. Then you’d have the nerve to come back to this country and pretend that you’re some hero of the revolution. In the truth of things, Clemente, I should have you charged with treason and locked away with Vicario and Acre. But I won’t. I also will not appoint you as interim Foreign Minister and I want you as far removed from this government as physically possible. Leave,” Urbina shouted.

Hernández rose immediately, not giving a response to the President, and left.

March 7, 1954

A powerful bear hug reunited the two college friends, Roberto Urbina and Cayetano Arsenio Palomo. The two men looked almost as though they were brothers. Cayetano was slightly shorter than Urbina and a little stockier. Cayetano was slightly less professional than Urbina, which said a lot considering Urbina’s lack of regard for professionalism. Cayetano was more outgoing than Urbina and his smile much warmer. The two sat down across from each other and couches.

“So, Mr. President now? Isn’t that something,” Palomo said.

“That’s what they call me now, I like it, polishes my ego,” Urbina replied, laughing.

Palomo moved to pour a bottle of wine into two glasses set on the table between them. Urbina quickly put his hand over the top of his empty glass.

“You know I don’t drink,” Urbina said.

“Surely you realize how suspicious that sounds,” Palomo replied, picking up his glass “you always were the stiff though. I just thought years partying in the night clubs of Heredia would transform you.”

“Pamela would never allow for such a thing,” Urbina replied, Palomo smirked.

“So I doubt you have much time for old friends, to what do I owe the pleasure of your invitation?” Palomo asked.

“You’re in the political science department at Western University,” Urbina was interrupted.

“Chair of the Political Science Department, cabrón. Respect my authority,” Palomo replied.

“You just called the President of the Transition Council a cabrón?” Urbina stated, sternly.

“Others see you as a high and mighty President. I remember you as the guy who puked onto a girl he fancied while getting down and dirty and then spent the rest of the night crying, only stopping to puke, and complaining about how you loved her so much. What the devil was her name?” Palomo pondered.

Urbina burst out laughing. “I guess that’s why I don’t drink anymore! My Lord that was a horrible night. I thought my life had ended.”

“It looks like you turned out alright,” Palomo replied “but on a serious note, go on.”

“I worked with you on developing international theories, you were top of the class there dealing with international relations. Pioneered constructivist thought, but held deep down liberal ideals on how the world should function. You shaped how I saw the world,” Urbina said.

“Liberal Constructivism, I call it,” Palomo said.

“The Transition Council has agreed to reopen the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and appoint a Foreign Minister. Cayetano Arsenio Palomo, I want to nominate you to take Hernández’s place as Foreign Minister of the Republic,” Urbina declared.

Palomo looked at Urbina in disbelief. The practical jokester who very rarely took things seriously had a very pale look about him.

“Beto, I don’t have the kind of experience for such a thing. I write papers and books and teach classes, I’ve never actually directed foreign policy. Surely there’s someone more qualified to handle the foreign affairs of a nation, it’s irresponsible to appoint me,” Palomo said.

“There are always people more qualified. I don’t really care. The way I see the world came from you. Put your theories to the test, use them on the global stage now,” Urbina pressured “and if you fuck up, the President will appoint someone else as a permanent Foreign Minister. To be honest, this is more temporary until the regular government can fill positions.”

“And if you’re elected President?” Palomo asked.

“I haven’t decided on that yet,” Urbina answered “but I’ll vouch for you regardless. Whether you want the job or not.”

Palomo sat and stared at the President.

Later that day

“Dr. Cayetano Arsenio Palomo of Valle Occidental, upon nomination of President of the Transition Council, Roberto Urbina of Naranjo, the Transition Council has voted unanimously in favor and formally confirmed you to the position of Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Aurarine Republic,” the Council Secretary declared.

Roberto Urbina turned to Cayetano, the two men standing before the assembled Council. Cayetano put his hand on a bible and raised his right arm.

“Dr. Cayetano Arsenio Palomo. Do you accept the appointment of Minister of Foreign Affairs to the Aurarine Republic,” Roberto Urbina asked.

“I do,” Palomo confirmed.

“Do you promise to uphold the constitution of Auraria and represent our nation to all nations across the Earth, to faithfully execute your duties to the best of your ability,” Urbina asked.

“I do,” Palomo confirmed.

“Congratulations, Dr. Minister,” Urbina said.

The two men shook hands with a great smile and the thunderous applause of the Council.