El Presidente, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Conspiracy

[Rheinbund]

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02/03/2022, 1541hrs

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El Presidente found himself half-listening to Chancellor Lauritzen as he explained Rheinbund's noble efforts to stay out of the quagmire that was Gallo-Germania, and especially the former Pannonian region. He could feel the buzz from the Josefino Libre he had sipped on the plane starting to wear off, and no drinks appeared to be in sight within the car, something unheard of for the hedonistic Josefino statesman. He obviously didn't want to be rude, or at least too rude, in asking where the booze was kept in the car, but he was starting to have trouble concentrating, even when the Chancellor pointed out that Tarusan and Frankish antics in the European Forum were at best an excuse for an upcoming invasion, a sentiment President Constanza otherwise agreed with. Or, at least, he would if he didn't have more pressing matters on his mind.

"I fear you are right." He started, still trying to semi-subtly search for any source of liquor in the car, even a wine cooler would've done the job at this point. "The Tarusans and Franks have a history of using sweet diplomatic words and love of peaceful negotiations as an excuse to gaslight the world into believing that they are not at fault for being imperialistic warmongers. We've seen it in Pannonia, we saw it again in Bourdignie, and we're seeing it now in Lethonia. I'm hopeful our representatives can avert war at the last minute, but we must be ready for the nonsense these agents of the Global Exploitation Conspiracy are about to unleash..."

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, "Mi amigos, please excuse me, but do you happen to know of the best beer hall in Fehrbellin we could stop off in? I find myself parched, and have been looking forward to meeting the Rheinian people and sampling your world famous cerveza for the entire flight over. I know it's a bit of a breach in protocol, but I'm certain the Fehrbelliners would love the surprise visit."

Really, he was just looking for any excuse to keep the buzz going. He was on vacation, he might as well act like it as much as his statesman aura (for what it was anyway) would allow.

OOC: I'm intending on using Time Warp Shenanigans © to be able to keep El Presidente in Rheinbund and get into some mischief while also having him move onto Pelasgia and get involved in even MORE mischief. Keep your eyes on the dates and fasten your seatbelts kiddos.

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02MAR2022, 15:41

El Presidente's question regarding visiting a beer hall was a bit unusual to the average Rheinian, and a bit out-of-protocol. An important unwritten rule in Rheinbund is: No alcohol at work. The only exemption is for bartenders and sommeliers. And although a state visit is a festive event, it is still work. Apart from that, the protocol of a state visit does not include that the guest immediately asks for the booze.
Luckily, despite being rather conservative in his appearance and in a way also in his stances and beliefs, Chancellor Lauritzen was jovial and had a sense of humor. When he heard El Presidente's question regarding the beer hall, he started to snigger. Then he said: "Well, that's going to be a bit difficult now. The beer halls are not open yet. But I promise you a beer when we are at the Chancellery. And of course a visit to one of Fehrbellin's beer halls is on the agenda, as well as a cocktail party. By the way, we are lucky that the principality of Lotharingen is not a Catholic principality, otherwise the pubs would have been closed because of Ash Wednesday."

OOC: Sorry for the late reply.

 

[Pelasgia]

Propontis, Pelasgia
15/03/2022 | 09:34

Drakos groaned like a drunken bear as he awoke from his slumber. Such a night of debauchery, the potent octogenarian had not known since the days of his graduation from the military academy... Smiling at the very memory, he pushed aside the naked belle covering his half naked body and looked around the marble floor of the palatial hall for his clothes--all he still wore were his socks and underwear, the latter of the two bearing lipstick and facing the wrong way. Groaning anew, the bearlike dictator stood and approached the pile of olive green fabric that was his First Marshal's uniform. After a moment's consideration, he recovered only his extravagant peaked cap, with its laurel-wreath-shaped gilding and its pompous visor, and he triumphantly put it on.

"There!" Drakos saluted as he gazed into one of the countless mirrors lining the hall's walls. He laughed sarcastically and made his way to the far side of the room, to quench his thirst with some fine retsina. El presidente, it seemed, was still asleep, as were the... loose ladies peopling this room, which had once hosted the balls and the councils of the Propontine Sovereigns.

Drakos paused at the thought of those purple-born rulers and turned to an ornate icon that adorned the area above the hall's main entrance. Upon a golden panel was the figure of Christ Pantokrator or "Ruler of Everything", crowned and dressed in Tiryan purple robes. Drakos smiled again. "So, old pal... it's you and me. I suppose I'm an old sinner. Are you going to punish me? You should, you know. But, huh! You won't. Bad people never suffer in this world of ours. They only prosper. I ought to thank you, you know--that's the first and most important lesson you taught me when you took away my mother." Drakos spat on the ground before the icon.

"Now then," he announced. "I've got business to attend to, and fun to have. After all, didn't you put us on this earth to have fun? And to bomb Muntenians, I presume. 'Thou shalt not kill, except if it's rustic goatherds with delusions of nationhood.' Huh!"

He started for the majestic bed were El Presidente lay surrounded by fair damsels. Yet, as he was about to greet his fellow tyrant, Drakos paused. He felt his step grow heavier and slower. He pushed on, but a sharp pain pierced his chest. The pain got sharper and sharper, wider and wider, stronger and stronger, until it covered the entire front of his body. Drakos fell to his knees. He turned around and faced the icon. Groaning in pain, gasping, Drakos tried his best to utter a single word--but he could not. There the dictator of all Pelasgia died, gazing into the eyes of the Almighty--to the sound of the snoring of sleeping hedonists. Perhaps there was such a thing as Divine Justice after all...​

 

[Josepania]

Propontis, Pelasgia
11/03/2022 | 10:00

Drakos laughed heartily, roaring like an elderly boar. It had been long since he had met a man of such homour and intellect at once. "Oh, but I agree, my dear friend, I agree. As an Orthodox Christian, I am expected to prepare for death; and as a Pelasgian, I am expected to love life. Who gave me life? God, of course. God, who wishes me to enjoy all the pleasures He put on this earth. As I always say, God is a master architect and a master comedian."

The car passed a small chapel, once used by the servants of the imperial family in Selymbria, and now serving the local townsfolk. "Say, for instance, why tear that down? Every summer, the locals come here to celebrate the feast of Saint Phanourios--their dances, their drinks, their wares, their foods, their... youthful love. They all fill this place with excitement. The same occurs in every Pelasgian town at midsummer. Are we truly freeing these people if we ban such things? Nay, we must indulge them! We are fighting precisely to preserve this way of life from the capitalists and the imperialists."

The motorcade pulled into the palace's inner courtyard, allowing the two leaders to exit their vehicles and enter straight into the palace's core. Almost instantly, they found themselves the palace's banquet hall--"converted for our use" as Drakos explained to El Presidente as he opened the door. "I thought we could clear our minds while working--mix our enjoyment of the world's fruits, while doing the work ordained for us by His providence."

A scantily clad maiden, some twenty or so years old and most likely drawn from one of Propontis' finest modelling agencies, greeting the two leaders at the door, with a tray of wine glasses in hand. "Welcome, Comrades," she said. "Would you like a drink to quench your thirst?"

"It's an original Malvasian white," Drakos pointed out. "My personal favourite, especially if resinated as is the custom here." He offered his guest a toast: "To further integration between our Great Revolutionary Nations! May we enjoy gifts such as these forever--together!"

As the maiden handed El Presidente his drink she started taking off her clothes.

"Say, Comrade Pleasurer," asked Drakos, himself taking another drink from the tray the woman had set aside. "What would you say Pelasgia sold you its oil at a premium--in exchange for an exclusive supply contract and some preferential trade treatment? On the side, I can have my men work out a smuggling deal for different kinds of weed with yours. With all those ships going back and forth, who would notice? I really need to try the stuff you make at San José."​

Propontis, Pelasgia
11/03/2022, 1013hrs

El Presidente's eyes remained fixated on the maiden as Drakos spoke of wine, oil, and marijuana, Responding to the offered toast almost halfheartedly but with an ease of an experienced party animal. It had been quite some time since the Josefino had... interacted with a Pelasgian, let alone one of such tantalizing beauty, and she appeared flattered by the intense attention he was lavishing upon her form. Once she had finished disrobing she began moving towards the now seated Josefino to begin assisting him into a more comfortable state of dress, her own stare igniting passions within the statesman.

Through it all, he managed to find the mental capacity to register Drakos' mixing of business with pleasure. It's not as though it were challenging, he pondered as his tie was loosened and shirt unbuttoned by the maiden who was already straddling him, when you were President of San José it was required to mix professional with playful on a constant basis, and switch between them as necessary at the drop of a hat, or trousers, as his were slowly being pulled down. "Camarada Proxeneta en Jefe, I would say that is a most lucrative and easily crafted arrangement. I'm sure my Secretario General would agree and make it happen back home. Comrades must buy from likeminded comrades in a world as exploited and manipulated as ours, and we must stick together in order to resist the conspiracy and prosper despite their best efforts. Pelasgian oil shall fuel Josefino industry and transportation for the forseeable future. And you have wise desires, the Josefino marijuana plant is one of God's greatest gifts to this cruel world, melting stress away like ice in the sun, and bringing pleasure rivaled only by a lover. I have some in my suitcase, if you'd like a sample..."

He was preparing to explain more, but by that point the Pelasgian maiden was taking his mind off of business, and the wine he had sampled was starting to interact with the cocktail of stimulants and depressants already in his system. Drakos was mentioning something about a "safe word", excellent host he was, just in case the festivities got out of hand, but while that did register in El Presidente's subconscious his mind was already floating away in a sea of pleasure, and he had only just shoved off from the shore of sobriety. He allowed himself to be lost to the currents...

v
02MAR2022, 15:41

El Presidente's question regarding visiting a beer hall was a bit unusual to the average Rheinian, and a bit out-of-protocol. An important unwritten rule in Rheinbund is: No alcohol at work. The only exemption is for bartenders and sommeliers. And although a state visit is a festive event, it is still work. Apart from that, the protocol of a state visit does not include that the guest immediately asks for the booze.
Luckily, despite being rather conservative in his appearance and in a way also in his stances and beliefs, Chancellor Lauritzen was jovial and had a sense of humor. When he heard El Presidente's question regarding the beer hall, he started to snigger. Then he said: "Well, that's going to be a bit difficult now. The beer halls are not open yet. But I promise you a beer when we are at the Chancellery. And of course a visit to one of Fehrbellin's beer halls is on the agenda, as well as a cocktail party. By the way, we are lucky that the principality of Lotharingen is not a Catholic principality, otherwise the pubs would have been closed because of Ash Wednesday."

OOC: Sorry for the late reply.

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02/03/2022, 1545hrs

El Presidente politely smiled, masking his disappointment as best he could, partly in acknowledgement of the Chancellor's efforts to accommodate the Josefino's peculiar needs. "I understand, Chancellor Lauritzen, and will hold on for as long as I can. Don't expect me to forget your promise though, especially with such an agenda laid out as you have presented. I suppose I must thank God, then, that the Lotharingen people have turned away from Holy Mother Church for this one circumstance, something I never thought I'd say. After all, the Catholics in San José are more willing to be celebratory and open with their beverages and substances even on the holidays such as Ash Wednesday. Reverence can go hand in hand with celebration of life and the works and words of the Savior, wouldn't you think? Or is that more of a cultural divide we must find a way to bridge in the near future? Rheinian cerveza is highly prized in San José, after all, and we can only do so much to match it in taste and potency. Perhaps a Beer Exchange as part of a larger Cultural Exchange should be a topic of future discussion."

It was strange, President Constanza suspected, to hear such an infamous hedonist such as himself speak of religion so seriously, let alone in the context of alcoholism. But it only added to the oddity and complexity of El Presidente, and pumping up his mystique both to the public and to fellow statesmen and diplomats was never a bad thing in his eyes. Besides, he needed to find some way to stave off the boredom of sobriety, and religion was as good a topic as any.

OOC: No worries, I'm equally as guilty it seems.

Propontis, Pelasgia
15/03/2022 | 09:34

Drakos groaned like a drunken bear as he awoke from his slumber. Such a night of debauchery, the potent octogenarian had not known since the days of his graduation from the military academy... Smiling at the very memory, he pushed aside the naked belle covering his half naked body and looked around the marble floor of the palatial hall for his clothes--all he still wore were his socks and underwear, the latter of the two bearing lipstick and facing the wrong way. Groaning anew, the bearlike dictator stood and approached the pile of olive green fabric that was his First Marshal's uniform. After a moment's consideration, he recovered only his extravagant peaked cap, with its laurel-wreath-shaped gilding and its pompous visor, and he triumphantly put it on.

"There!" Drakos saluted as he gazed into one of the countless mirrors lining the hall's walls. He laughed sarcastically and made his way to the far side of the room, to quench his thirst with some fine retsina. El presidente, it seemed, was still asleep, as were the... loose ladies peopling this room, which had once hosted the balls and the councils of the Propontine Sovereigns.

Drakos paused at the thought of those purple-born rulers and turned to an ornate icon that adorned the area above the hall's main entrance. Upon a golden panel was the figure of Christ Pantokrator or "Ruler of Everything", crowned and dressed in Tiryan purple robes. Drakos smiled again. "So, old pal... it's you and me. I suppose I'm an old sinner. Are you going to punish me? You should, you know. But, huh! You won't. Bad people never suffer in this world of ours. They only prosper. I ought to thank you, you know--that's the first and most important lesson you taught me when you took away my mother." Drakos spat on the ground before the icon.

"Now then," he announced. "I've got business to attend to, and fun to have. After all, didn't you put us on this earth to have fun? And to bomb Muntenians, I presume. 'Thou shalt not kill, except if it's rustic goatherds with delusions of nationhood.' Huh!"

He started for the majestic bed were El Presidente lay surrounded by fair damsels. Yet, as he was about to greet his fellow tyrant, Drakos paused. He felt his step grow heavier and slower. He pushed on, but a sharp pain pierced his chest. The pain got sharper and sharper, wider and wider, stronger and stronger, until it covered the entire front of his body. Drakos fell to his knees. He turned around and faced the icon. Groaning in pain, gasping, Drakos tried his best to utter a single word--but he could not. There the dictator of all Pelasgia died, gazing into the eyes of the Almighty--to the sound of the snoring of sleeping hedonists. Perhaps there was such a thing as Divine Justice after all...​

Propontis, Pelasgia
15/03/2022, 1000hrs

The Josefino felt himself slowly pulling back into shore, the mainland of relative sobriety welcoming him home from multiple days of pleasure and debauchery, the chaos of which only matched the raging seas of the Thaumantic. His eyelids were heavy, as were his limbs and, indeed, his whole body. This was partly due to the receding effects of the substances he had ingested nearly nonstop, but also because there were at least three gloriously beautiful female forms in varying states of undressed sprawled over him, covering him with comfort better than the finest Tianese silk blankets. Wait... maybe there were four... sensations of the outside world were difficult to register still.

With a content sigh, El Presidente finally pried open his eyes, blearily taking in the majestic Carian Purple curtains that surrounded his magnificent bed. The thought that this very bed had seen the naked forms of Pelasgian emperors and their wives, mistresses, and God knew what else... the disrespect towards the concept of monarchism filled the Josefino with a small, vindictive delight. Looking at the bodies draped over him next, he felt a small stirring as his body attempted to take advantage of the injection of pleasure, but he knew it had to wait, if only a little longer. It'd be rude to awaken the angels who had helped him to sleep the night before. Lastly he looked to the icon of the Savior, Christ Pantokrator as his host referred to it, and gave a nearly imperceptible nod of thanks and semi-serious reverence.

"Lord, I thank you for the bounty you have provided to a sinner such as myself." the President of San José and of Pleasure intoned, admiring the haunting gaze the artwork depicted staring into his soul. To what would've been the absolute irritation of many a clergyman, he felt no fear from the gaze. True, he did not embody most of the virtues of the church, but he felt he was doing the Lord's work in working to save the people from the rich and powerful, and so felt justified in being an imperfect vessel of God's will. Such heresy was rarely uttered to the face of the priests, at least while sober, and even if it was no one would care. It was El Presidente after all.

Finally, he managed to rise from the bed, looking around for his comrade in the sea of slumbering bodies and finding nothing. Not that it was easy to begin with, the lighting was pretty terrible to search for specifics, and his eyes were still gummed up by sleep. "Camarada Proxeneta en Jefe, where are you mi amigo?" the Josefino quietly called out. There was no reply... perhaps he was still sleeping.

He groaned in effort as he stood, his naked body free of glistening sweat from the night before, and he stretched slowly to revive his sobering and sore muscles. He looked around again, and finally found Drakos lying on the floor, wearing only his cap, underwear, and socks, which checked out given the festivities before. "Ah! Buenos días mi amigo! Didn't make it to the bed this time? Seems like your age is finally catching up with you!" El Presidente teased as he slowly made his way to the table that still held retsina. He had to get this stuff imported to San José sooner rather than later, it was utterly fantastic.

He heard no reply as he passed Drakos, perhaps the man was still sleeping and did not hear his jest. Yet it was odd, normally he snored like a bear these past few nights, it was only by the grace of God and lack of sobriety El Presidente managed to get any sleep through that ruckus at all. "Drakos! Did you not hear me, comrade?" the Josefino called out again, this time a bit louder and causing other partiers to stir as they were awoken from their own slumbers.

Still no reply.

This time, a twinge of concern made its way through Constanza. This was unusual, perhaps this time the partying had finally silenced the snores? He put down the glass of wine he had just poured for himself and turned to take another look at Drakos' still form. It remained still. Unusually still.

His eyes were open. They were even more haunting than the Savior's.

"Was he..." the Josefino thought to himself a moment, before bolting to the bed.

Memories of the "safe word" that was interspersed throughout the debauchery came roaring back into El Presidente's mind as he searched intensely for that one panel pointed out to him.

"Drakos! Wake up!" he shouted, no longer caring that he was rousing other partiers, not bothering to look back as he finally found the panel and pressed it, causing a silent alarm to go off in another secret room.

He didn't need to look back, he already knew what happened even as he dared not admit it consciously.

There was a scream of horror from one of the ladies, he did not know nor care who exactly. It could've been from their own discovery, it could've been from the Pelasgian secret security bursting into the room in response to the alarm.

It did not matter anymore. What mattered was El Presidente needed to be escorted out, his clothes be damned, everything be damned.

Drakos be damned.

 

[Josepania]

Nuovo Porto, @Radilo
30/03/2022, 1200hrs

The feeling of the plane touching down upon the runway jolted El Presidente from his deep slumber, an unusually rude awakening by his standards, yet it was also unusual the man managed to sleep at all on the flight. Ever since he became President of San José he had never been able to sleep on planes, but this flight from Propontis had been an exception. Little wonder too on reflection: it had been a whirlwind of both emotional and physical exertion, both involving multiday orgies and parties and ending on what could only be described using the kid's lingo nowadays: "an epic buzzkill." It wasn't every day that an orgy was cut short by a death, let alone the death of the host, yet that is what happened.

What followed was extensive questioning by the Pelasgian secret police assigned to the area, and rather invasive questioning at that. It could've caused a diplomatic scandal if handled poorly, but the Josefino statesman cooperated admirably and absolved himself of all guilt through such cooperation. Especially after an autopsy confirmed that Drakos had suffered a fatal heart attack that morning. Until then, though, there was a little bit of uncertainty as to what would happen next.

He, regardless, did not want to be around with the political fallout that would inevitably occur, and he had a perfect reason to go, which related to the capital city he had just touched down in: he was to meet the Radilan Doge as part of his international diplomatic tour. He had heard the man was quite the hedonist as well, but not on a scale anywhere close to the late Drakos. And thank God for that... while normally El Presidente was up for nonstop partying, he needed to keep recovering from being witness to the death of his comrade and fellow orgy-participant. Being reminded of your mortality when trying to live life to its fullest was always a rude awakening that was challenging to overcome. The solution, President Constanza discovered, was to revert back to low-key, easygoing hedonism rather than the hardcore, you-only-live-once partying that resulted in such unpleasant realizations to begin with.

He hoped the Doge would be up to such relaxation, as the plane finally taxied to a halt, and he made his way to the airplane door, preparing to set foot onto the tarmac of his latest stop in his tour.

 

[Rheinbund]

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02/03/2022, 1545hrs

El Presidente politely smiled, masking his disappointment as best he could, partly in acknowledgement of the Chancellor's efforts to accommodate the Josefino's peculiar needs. "I understand, Chancellor Lauritzen, and will hold on for as long as I can. Don't expect me to forget your promise though, especially with such an agenda laid out as you have presented. I suppose I must thank God, then, that the Lotharingen people have turned away from Holy Mother Church for this one circumstance, something I never thought I'd say. After all, the Catholics in San José are more willing to be celebratory and open with their beverages and substances even on the holidays such as Ash Wednesday. Reverence can go hand in hand with celebration of life and the works and words of the Savior, wouldn't you think? Or is that more of a cultural divide we must find a way to bridge in the near future? Rheinian cerveza is highly prized in San José, after all, and we can only do so much to match it in taste and potency. Perhaps a Beer Exchange as part of a larger Cultural Exchange should be a topic of future discussion."

It was strange, President Constanza suspected, to hear such an infamous hedonist such as himself speak of religion so seriously, let alone in the context of alcoholism. But it only added to the oddity and complexity of El Presidente, and pumping up his mystique both to the public and to fellow statesmen and diplomats was never a bad thing in his eyes. Besides, he needed to find some way to stave off the boredom of sobriety, and religion was as good a topic as any.

OOC: No worries, I'm equally as guilty it seems.

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02MAR2022, 1700hrs

"Well, it has more to do with Martin Luther and the reformation. Lutheranism is more liberal than Catholicism. But indeed, Fehrbellin itself is rather secular," Lauritzen smiled. Then he started to talk about cultural exchanges between San José and the Rheinbund.


1700hrs

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*PLOP*

*PLOP*

Lauritzen opened two bottles of Hefe Weizen. He gave one bottle to El Presidente, and kept one bottle himself. Then they toasted on good relationships between the Rheinbund and San José. After that, the president and the chancellor continued to talk about a cultural exchange program, but also about Tarusa and the Pressburg Pact, as well as the HFE and Former Pannonia. Later on, also economic cooperation came on the agenda.

This evening El Presidente was invited to Schloss Schöneweide for the dinner with the Regent.

The next day, El Presidente and Lauritzen would go to a beer garden in the evening.

 

[Radilo]

Marco Brolo International Airport, Nouvo Porto

"Your Serenity, Captain General, the plane is taxiing into position," said the elaborately dressed honor guard.

The two stepped out of the limo and made their way to the welcome party.They could not have looked more different.

The Prime Minister was dressed in an ill-fitting grey pantsuit, frumpy as ever. A chubby, short peasant grandma from the farthest end of Dalmatia.

The Doge was resplendent. He wore the Corno Ducale he was gifted after his election. It's gold base was inlaid with large diamonds and precious stones that were radiant in the midday sun of early spring. A 40 carat ruby adorned the horn's tip. He wore a purple silk robe (his outfits matched liturgical cacalander) lined with ermine. He wore a heavy gold chain, the collar of the Order of St. Mark, that rested on the ermine of his pellegrina collar.

If you bothered to look, he also wore six very large gold rings, including his signet ring, bearing the seal of the Most Serene Republic, and a ring with a 20 carat teardrop sapphire, called the Eastern Tear, which was looted from the Hagia Pronoia during the Great Himyari Crusade.

He was a tall, rather dashing, mullato, the scion of a prominent family, who grew up running around the aincent canals of la Città. He was aging too, just very elegantly.

She, however, was the one who was actually in charge.

Joining them standing along with the elaborately dressed baroque honor guard were the Catholic Patriarch of Radila and the Foreign Minister (who was also the Red Party leader).

After a longer than expected delay, el presidente, dressed in his usual gleaming whites and sash descended the boarding stairs onto the red carpet lined tarmac.

The assembled honor guard clicked their heels and saluted, each holding a flagpole, alternating between the Banner of St. Mark and the Flag of San José. It was a display of friendship between two allies who had a recent tiff... to put it mildly.

After the President reached the bottom of the steps, having awkwardly gripped the railing the whole way down, the Doge started walking towards him. They met in the middle of the red carpet.

"Benvignùo alla Serenìsima Repùblega de Radèla," Clemente III said as he took Constanza's hand, come, we have much to enjoy ahead of us."

The two of them walked towards the rest of the dignitaries.

"El presidente, this is Radila's Captain General..."

"Prime Minister," she injected, "Isabella Lacé, Mister President, a pleasure to finally meet in person," she said shaking his hand.

"You know Comerade Barnapola, our Foreign Minister."

"Nice to see you again, Constanza."

"Same, August," the two men hugged.

"And Cardinal Rocco the Tiburan Patriarch of Radila."

"Your Eminence," the president said, kneeling to kiss his ecclesiastical ring. The Cardinal subtly made the Sign of the Cross over the visiting head of state.

"Come," the Doge said after he stood up, our gondola awaits. He guided El Presidente, towards the luxurious vehicle: an elaborate water taxi with two elevated seats under an elaborate umbrello. It was about this time when the Josephino leader noticed that large crowds had gathered waving amd cheering at them. He waved, awkwardly, as he ascended the few steps to the seats of honor. The other dignitaries sat themselves in the lower seats.

As the boat started to make its way to the city proper, the elaborately dressed Doge turned to his counterpart.

"Izzy is going to want to talk business, I'll keep her away, we can let subordinates paper over the fine details. I hope to show you a nice time here. A nice dinner tonight, a relaxing evening in the Scarlet room, bantering and drinking wine. Tomarrow morning, early, but not too early, we'll go out for some cicchetti and umbra.* and end the day with a nice dinner with some senators."

The two men waved to the gathered crowds as the gondola lazily made its way to St. Mark's Square.

*ooc: tapas and wine

@San Jose @Pelasgia

 

[Josepania]

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02MAR2022, 1700hrs

"Well, it has more to do with Martin Luther and the reformation. Lutheranism is more liberal than Catholicism. But indeed, Fehrbellin itself is rather secular," Lauritzen smiled. Then he started to talk about cultural exchanges between San José and the Rheinbund.


1700hrs

You must be registered for see images

*PLOP*

*PLOP*

Lauritzen opened two bottles of Hefe Weizen. He gave one bottle to El Presidente, and kept one bottle himself. Then they toasted on good relationships between the Rheinbund and San José. After that, the president and the chancellor continued to talk about a cultural exchange program, but also about Tarusa and the Pressburg Pact, as well as the HFE and Former Pannonia. Later on, also economic cooperation came on the agenda.

This evening El Presidente was invited to Schloss Schöneweide for the dinner with the Regent.

The next day, El Presidente and Lauritzen would go to a beer garden in the evening.

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02/03/2022, 2000hrs

El Presidente took one last look at his outfit in the mirror before nodding in acceptance; a Tianese silk black tuxedo with a matching black vest over a stark-white button-down shirt, with a black bowtie to complete the look the waist up. His lower half was equally formal: black pants and shoes. The only hint of color was the two lapel pins, one a red star, the other the gold emblem of San José, but otherwise he looked plain, repressed, and otherwise dull.

He disliked it, but it was a formal dinner with His Royal Highness, Regent Ferdinand von Detmold-Liepen. He was looking forward more to the beer garden with the Chancellor but would suffer through this in good cheer with the Hefeweizen granted him by the Chancellor on the way to the Schloss Schöneweide, so at least he wouldn't be 100% sober, only 80%. Not ideal but good enough.

He approached the dining hall and approached the table, already occupied by the Regent, and he bowed his head respectfully. "Buenas noches, Su Alteza Real. I must thank you again for hosting me in your beautiful country, and especially in person for what promises to be an excellent dinner."

Along with excellent and vast quantities of alcohol, he hoped, but such wishes were diminished by the relatively dry welcome thus far.

Marco Brolo International Airport, Nouvo Porto

"Your Serenity, Captain General, the plane is taxiing into position," said the elaborately dressed honor guard.

The two stepped out of the limo and made their way to the welcome party.They could not have looked more different.

The Prime Minister was dressed in an ill-fitting grey pantsuit, frumpy as ever. A chubby, short peasant grandma from the farthest end of Dalmatia.

The Doge was resplendent. He wore the Corno Ducale he was gifted after his election. It's gold base was inlaid with large diamonds and precious stones that were radiant in the midday sun of early spring. A 40 carat ruby adorned the horn's tip. He wore a purple silk robe (his outfits matched liturgical cacalander) lined with ermine. He wore a heavy gold chain, the collar of the Order of St. Mark, that rested on the ermine of his pellegrina collar.

If you bothered to look, he also wore six very large gold rings, including his signet ring, bearing the seal of the Most Serene Republic, and a ring with a 20 carat teardrop sapphire, called the Eastern Tear, which was looted from the Hagia Sophia during the Fourth Crusade.

He was a tall, rather dashing, mullato, the scion of a prominent family, who grew up running around the aincent canals of la Città. He was aging too, just very elegantly.

She, however, was the one who was actually in charge.

Joining them standing along with the elaborately dressed baroque honor guard were the Catholic Patriarch of Radila and the Foreign Minister (who was also the Red Party leader).

After a longer than expected delay, el presidente, dressed in his usual gleaming whites and sash descended the boarding stairs onto the red carpet lined tarmac.

The assembled honor guard clicked their heels and saluted, each holding a flagpole, alternating between the Banner of St. Mark and the Flag of San José. It was a display of friendship between two allies who had a recent tiff... to put it mildly.

After the President reached the bottom of the steps, having awkwardly gripped the railing the whole way down, the Doge started walking towards him. They met in the middle of the red carpet.

"Benvignùo alla Serenìsima Repùblega de Radèla," Clemente III said as he took Constanza's hand, come, we have much to enjoy ahead of us."

The two of them walked towards the rest of the dignitaries.

"El presidente, this is Radila's Captain General..."

"Prime Minister," she injected, "Isabella Lacé, Mister President, a pleasure to finally meet in person," she said shaking his hand.

"You know Comerade Barnapola, our Foreign Minister."

"Nice to see you again, Constanza."

"Same, August," the two men hugged.

"And Cardinal Rocco the Tiburan Patriarch of Radila."

"Your Eminence," the president said, kneeling to kiss his ecclesiastical ring. The Cardinal subtly made the Sign of the Cross over the visiting head of state.

"Come," the Doge said after he stood up, our gondola awaits. He guided El Presidente, towards the luxurious vehicle: an elaborate water taxi with two elevated seats under an elaborate umbrello. It was about this time when the Josephino leader noticed that large crowds had gathered waving amd cheering at them. He waved, awkwardly, as he ascended the few steps to the seats of honor. The other dignitaries sat themselves in the lower seats.

As the boat started to make its way to the city proper, the elaborately dressed Doge turned to his counterpart.

"Izzy is going to want to talk business, I'll keep her away, we can let subordinates paper over the fine details. I hope to show you a nice time here. A nice dinner tonight, a relaxing evening in the Scarlet room, bantering and drinking wine. Tomarrow morning, early, but not too early, we'll go out for some cicchetti and umbra.* and end the day with a nice dinner with some senators."

The two men waved to the gathered crowds as the gondola lazily made its way to St. Mark's Square.

*ooc: tapas and wine

@San Jose @Pelasgia

Nuovo Porto, Radilo
30/03/2022, 1230hrs

El Presidente smiled with sincere gratitude towards the Doge as he continued to wave to the crowd on the gondola. The waving seemed lazy, nonchalant as befitting a statesman to the untrained eye, but was in fact a sign of mental exhaustion, something the Doge must have picked up on. "Su Alteza Serena, you have already proven to be an impeccable host, and I have only been here for half an hour. I can already tell any rift between our great peoples will only be temporary and for show. In truth, we Josefinos admire you for your steadfast republicanism. It is only the details that prevent us from being as open about our admiration and desire for friendship."

He turned away for a moment to give a moment's attention to waving to a group of young ladies on the side of the canal, they seemed especially enthusiastic to see the famous El Presidente, their shrieks of delight carried through the air like he was a rock star. Yet his attention lingered only a moment, and he turned back to the Doge, somewhat uncharacteristic, but he had some thoughts in his mind not yet revealed to the public.

"These are strange times we live in. So much tension, so much crisis, and no agreement on how to solve it, even among those who have the same ultimate goals. It compels the weaker among us to lose themselves in a different world, yet reality has a habit of rudely dragging us back and facing that we don't wish to confront. Tell me, Su Alteza Serena, you have surely seen much conflict and adversity in your long years, be it individual to the global. What has kept you enjoying life despite its best efforts to make you hate it?"

***

Imperial Palace, Chagny, @Holy Frankish Empire
02/04/2022, 1045hrs

As the car halted in the square in front of the Imperial Palace, El Presidente José David Constanza stepped out and felt a wave of deja vu, which wasn't helped by him looking down and noticing the relatively humble navy suit he wore. It was a striking change from his usual, flashy white suit, but this particular stop on his whirlwind tour felt quite different, more deliberately impactful, than where he had gone so far in Rheinbund, Pelasgia, and Radila. He had worn this same suit when he had gone to the Chagny peace conference half a year ago, and was instrumental in crafting peace that prevented war in Gallo-Germania.

That peace was currently on the verge of collapse, with increasingly rancorous quarrels and walkouts in the European Forum, and a massive potential geopolitical realignment involving the Pressburg Pact and the country he was in was threatening to take place. It was, perhaps, egotistical for the Josefino to think he had any part to play, indeed any realistic stake, in what was to come, yet somehow, he had managed to find himself in the midst of impactful international events over and over again.

'What's one more event I can stick my nose in?' he thought to himself darkly as he began making his way to the palace, escorted by Frankish security both ceremonial and professional. He was to meet with the Emperor in person, a man El Presidente did not expect to take a liking to last time they met, and yet he did. He gathered that peculiarity was mutual, and if nothing else there was mutual respect between the two statesmen. The Josefino wanted to see what he could do with that respect, perhaps get a better understanding of the intentions of the Emperor, and see if there was opportunity to, quietly, once again prevent conflict from breaking out in Europe.

It was a tall order, and not guaranteed. Just the way El Presidente liked it.

 

[Rheinbund]

Fehrbellin, Rheinbund
02MAR2022, 20:15

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Three months ago, the 75 year old Sovereign Prince Ferdinand von Detmold-Liepen announced to hand over his tasks to his eldest child, Crown-Princess Leonore. He actually expected to retire. But then King Johannes fell into a coma, and he was appointed Regent of the Rheinbund. His daughter had to take over the duties as Sovereign of Detmold sooner than expected. And now he was here, representing the Rheinbund as Acting Head of State.
The dinner was a formal dinner with him, as well as the Sovereigns, Prince-Bishop and Legates of the so-called “members” of the Rheinbund (the 11 principalities, the prince-bishopric and the four citizenries forming the Rheinbund), the Oberpräfekte (“Heads of Government”) of the members, and the National Government. But in order to give the dinner an informal touch (at least according to Rheinian customs), the dress code was not White Tie (dress suit) but Black Tie (tuxedo). Another reason why the dress code was Black Tie was, that the Regent and the Chancellor wanted to allow El Presidente to shine, and the Chancellor’s taylor mentioned that El Presidente would look better in a tuxedo than in a dress suit.
The Regent himself also wore a tuxedo of Tianese silk. He wore two lapel pins as well; one was the Rheinian Eagle on a white surface, the other one was a very well constructed two-dimensional representation of the Rheinian crown. The latter lapel pin was usually worn by the Rheinian King, but was also allowed to be worn by the Regent when the latter was representing the Rheinian Crown in the absence of the King, as was currently the case.
Also all other guests wore a lapel pin with the Rheinian Eagle, as well as a second lapel pin belonging to their functions as Head of State of a Member, Oberpräfekt of a Member, or a member of the National Government.

The Regent knew a bit of Spanish, so he replied to El Presidente in Spanish: “Buenas Noches, El Presidente, bienvenido al Rheinbund. I hope you will enjoy your stay.” Then he continued in Engellish: “Let me introduce you to the other guests.”

There were quite a lot of other guests, so the introduction took a bit of time. After the introductions, aperitives were served. The Regent and the Chancellor knew that El Presidente was used to quite a lot more alcohol than most other people present, so it was taken care of that El Presidente’s glass was more filled than the other glasses. After the aperitives, the doors to the so-called Großer Saal were opened, and the Regent invited everybody to dinner. After everyone was seated, two other doors were opened and a stream of waiters walked in, each carrying one plate with cover. There were as many waiters as there were guests. As soon as all the guests had been served, the covers were removed from the dishes. The first dish had been served.

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[Holy Frankish Empire]

Imperial Palace, Chagny

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The Imperial Palace in Chagny was a large and bustling place. People flew in and out of side doors and tourists crammed the streets surrounding the palace, each vying for the perfect picture. The Imperial Family had stopped using the palace in the 1920's as a residence. Instead, it had become the central Imperial Government offices. While it still was an official residence, its main function was as office space. The Emperor lived at the comparatively smaller 'Bishop's Palace'. A palace that had once belonged to one of the Empire's bishops. Bought in 1926, it had become the functioning residence of the Imperial household. Guests and even the Emperor would occasionally stay the night at the Imperial Palace; but it was certainly not a home in the true sense of the word. The Emperor had arrived early, as was his way, to conduct meetings. Yet, his appearance was certainly more relaxed. Khakis, a sweater vest, and cheap blue dress shirt with red tie was all the Emperor wore. He hustled down the steps to meet El Presidente as the Imperial Lancer Guard played welcoming music. Grasping El Presidente's hand with both of this, the Emperor smirked and expressed his welcome before offering El Presidente to join him back inside the palace.

It was hoped that El Presidente could lend a voice to Frankish concerns which are being quickly dismissed and to solidify the ability of the Empire to re-engage in the world. Not only that, but the Emperor believed that the two nations could tackle several problems together. It was true, the nations shared very different ideologies. Yet, Emperor Paul knew that there was common ground. He led El Presidente across oak and cherry wood parkay floors, the walls covered in tapestries and murals. Past rooms of offices, conference rooms, and every other kind. Finally, the two turned into a small lounge. There were a few people already there. Few even paid much attention to the Emperor. "This is a lounge that was originally built for the personal use of the Emperor, First Minister, and senior officials. Now it is restricted to secretaries and every Friday the cleaning staff have use of it during lunch time. Of course, nobody minds if I come in" he said with a smirk. "Might I offer you something to drink?" he asked, leading El Presidente to a pair of green velvet couches. "For lunch, I have arranged for us to eat at a small local restaurant. But I feel this is as good of a place as any to begin" he said with a Gallic shrug.

 

[Radilo]

Bacino di San Marco, la Città, Nouvo Porto

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As the Gondola Ducal, made its way towards St. Mark's Square.

The Doge smiled at the younger man--in years, if not of weary disposition. His vulnerability, Clemente found, admirable.

"We boast that we carry the spirit of the Tiburan Republic. Since the seventh century we've kept our republican system of government. I've never claimed to be an ideologue, but I admire the zeal of the occidental people. Far away from old Gallia-Germania, even from the whole of the Old World..."

He paused for a moment, and looked out and waved to the crowd.

"I've been in politics since I was out of law school... no... sooner, when I campaigned with grandpa. My mother's father was an elected Red Communist senator from Castello. I remember handing out flyers... a little mulatto boy handing out red pamphlets... these old ladies would invite me in for espresso. They'd listen patiently to my little spiel, then they'd smile and tell me how much I looked like their grandson. Only better tanned," he chuckled, "they meant it as a complement. Of course they supported my grandpa. That they were happy to listen to a black child go on about the virtues of whatever we were campaigning on... it means there can be progress."

He waved a bit more at the crowed as the water taxi pulled up to St. Mark's Square.

"Senor Presidente, I am eternally optimistic, in my life and in politics because I've seen first hand what progress looks like. I've seen the world become a better place for people. I've seen my countrymen welcome refugees. I've seen the light in the eyes of migrants become bright as stars when they realize they are safe now. I've seen workers' lives been made better by small bureaucratic changes--and large! I was elected, a black man, a mixed race man, elected the head of government--then as a head of state in Gallia-Germania! Before Himyari colonization even ended."

As the gondola was pulling up to the palace, he paused again and waved.

"I've seen progress and potential--in real life. I let the sun shine on me."

He said, smiling, Senor Presedente couldn't help but smile back.

As the gondola docked, they were quickly escorted into the Doge's Palace.

They walked into the main entrance and through the Grand Council Chamber, where the Senate meets, it was decorated by the world's largest canvas painting Il Paradiso, by Tintoretto, on the ceiling was a fresco called the Apotheosis of Radila, by Veronese, where an allegory of the city becomes a literal goddess.

The Palace was a Renaissance and Baroque masterpiece. Plenty of guiding and marble statues guided them to the elaborately decorated dining hall.

This meal would be a bit fancier than most Radèla meals.

After everyone sat down at the elegantly decorated table, with the Doge and President seated next to each other, the Patriarch said grace briefly as the four other guests bowed their heads.

"Amen," they all said, signing the Cross.

Sustainably farm raised sturgeon caviar from Ebria served as the appetizer. The diners spread them on good Radilan bread (as opposed to the traditional preparation with bellini and chives in @Tarusa ), washed down, of course, by traditional grappa.

"Mister President," the Prime Minister started, despite our disagreement about the situation in Zara, I thought we could coordinate..."

The Doge was making a frantic "cut it off" gesture.

"I'm sure the Captain General would be more at ease speaking with her fellow captains," Clemente interjected.

El Presidente nodded to one of his assistants who nodded toward the Prime Minister. She nodded back. Politics could be addressed later.

Plates of fried smelt were brought out for the table, though they were not a course, per se, everyone likes fried, crunchy little fish.

The next course was goa risotto. A creamy fish and rice dish that had no actual cream, it was a simple bit of white arborio rice cooked in fishstock... but it was the favorite of visiting dignitaries.

El Presidente even asked, on the down low, for a bit more. "No," he was told by the chef, smiling... "I want you to come back." The president smiled back at him.

The next course was mountain steak, a thick, very rare, T-bone that melted in his excellency's mouth.

All the while, servants were enthusiastically filling up multiple glasses of wine, with the type and vintage matched the course.

The final course was limoncello ice cream with an accompanying shot of limoncello.

After the meal was over, everyone except the President and Doge, left to attend lingering business.

"Come, my friend, the Scarlet Room awaits us."

Now, the Scarlet Room wasn't called that because it was decorated in red or anything--it was called that because whenever the Doge invited guests their to relax, everyone was expected to wear a red fur robe.

So El Presidente found himself in a changing room, tended to by a cadre of young servant girls who helped him slip into the red, ermine lined, vestments.

Somewhat awkwardly, he made his way to the Scarlet Room. A window was open to let in some cooler air, as nothing is cozier than being bundled up in a slightly chilly room.

The room was magnificently decorated with Baroque art.

"So, Senor Presedente," the Doge started, pouring two glasses of wine, "what kind of optimist are you?"

@Nitra
@San Jose

 

[Josepania]

Bacino di San Marco, la Città, Nouvo Porto

As the Gondola Ducal, made its way towards St. Mark's Square.

The Doge smiled at the younger man--in years, if not of weary disposition. His vulnerability, Clemente found, admirable.

"We boast that we carry the spirit of the Tiburan Republic. Since the seventh century we've kept our republican system of government. I've never claimed to be an ideologue, but I admire the zeal of the occidental people. Far away from old Gallia-Germania, even from the whole of the Old World..."

He paused for a moment, and looked out and waved to the crowd.

"I've been in politics since I was out of law school... no... sooner, when I campaigned with grandpa. My mother's father was an elected Red Communist senator from Castello. I remember handing out flyers... a little mulatto boy handing out red pamphlets... these old ladies would invite me in for espresso. They'd listen patiently to my little spiel, then they'd smile and tell me how much I looked like their grandson. Only better tanned," he chuckled, "they meant it as a complement. Of course they supported my grandpa. That they were happy to listen to a black child go on about the virtues of whatever we were campaigning on... it means there can be progress."

He waved a bit more at the crowed as the water taxi pulled up to St. Mark's Square.

"Senor Presidente, I am eternally optimistic, in my life and in politics because I've seen first hand what progress looks like. I've seen the world become a better place for people. I've seen my countrymen welcome refugees. I've seen the light in the eyes of migrants become bright as stars when they realize they are safe now. I've seen workers' lives been made better by small bureaucratic changes--and large! I was elected, a black man, a mixed race man, elected the head of government--then as a head of state in Gallia-Germania! Before Himyari colonization even ended."

As the gondola was pulling up to the palace, he paused again and waved.

"I've seen progress and potential--in real life. I let the sun shine on me."

He said, smiling, Senor Presedente couldn't help but smile back.

As the gondola docked, they were quickly escorted into the Doge's Palace.

They walked into the main entrance and through the Grand Council Chamber, where the Senate meets, it was decorated by the world's largest canvas painting Il Paradiso, by Tintoretto, on the ceiling was a fresco called the Apotheosis of Radila, by Veronese, where an allegory of the city becomes a literal goddess.

The Palace was a Renaissance and Baroque masterpiece. Plenty of guiding and marble statues guided them to the elaborately decorated dining hall.

This meal would be a bit fancier than most Radèla meals.

After everyone sat down at the elegantly decorated table, with the Doge and President seated next to each other, the Patriarch said grace briefly as the four other guests bowed their heads.

"Amen," they all said, signing the Cross.

Sustainably farm raised sturgeon caviar from Ebria served as the appetizer. The diners spread them on good Radilan bread (as opposed to the traditional preparation with bellini and chives in @Tarusa ), washed down, of course, by traditional grappa.

"Mister President," the Prime Minister started, despite our disagreement about the situation in Zara, I thought we could coordinate..."

The Doge was making a frantic "cut it off" gesture.

"I'm sure the Captain General would be more at ease speaking with her fellow captains," Clemente interjected.

El Presidente nodded to one of his assistants who nodded toward the Prime Minister. She nodded back. Politics could be addressed later.

Plates of fried smelt were brought out for the table, though they were not a course, per se, everyone likes fried, crunchy little fish.

The next course was goa risotto. A creamy fish and rice dish that had no actual cream, it was a simple bit of white arborio rice cooked in fishstock... but it was the favorite of visiting dignitaries.

El Presidente even asked, on the down low, for a bit more. "No," he was told by the chef, smiling... "I want you to come back." The president smiled back at him.

The next course was mountain steak, a thick, very rare, T-bone that melted in his excellency's mouth.

All the while, servants were enthusiastically filling up multiple glasses of wine, with the type and vintage matched the course.

The final course was limoncello ice cream with an accompanying shot of limoncello.

After the meal was over, everyone except the President and Doge, left to attend lingering business.

"Come, my friend, the Scarlet Room awaits us."

Now, the Scarlet Room wasn't called that because it was decorated in red or anything--it was called that because whenever the Doge invited guests their to relax, everyone was expected to wear a red fur robe.

So El Presidente found himself in a changing room, tended to by a cadre of young servant girls who helped him slip into the red, ermine lined, vestments.

Somewhat awkwardly, he made his way to the Scarlet Room. A window was open to let in some cooler air, as nothing is cozier than being bundled up in a slightly chilly room.

The room was magnificently decorated with Baroque art.

"So, Senor Presedente," the Doge started, pouring two glasses of wine, "what kind of optimist are you?"

@Nitra
@San Jose

Nuovo Porto, Radilo

El Presidente paused at the question, using the time granted him by the pouring of his glass of wine to ponder it. Thus far he hadn't had any reason to really grapple with his troubled mind, given the impeccable hospitality of Il Doge, leading up to this very moment dressed like Old World nobility and about to sip on Old World refinement in a wine glass.

He sensed his hesitation becoming less natural and more visible, so he decided to take the plunge, lest he keep his host waiting. "An excellent question, su Alteza Serena. Had you asked me early last year, I would have told you I am an eternal optimist, fueled by my youthful idealism and utter certainty that good would prevail over evil. That no matter how strong the Global Exploitation Conspiracy seemed, the people would prevail and bring about global peace, prosperity, progress, and paradise. That our struggle was ordained by God, even if certain powers in Holy Mother Church would heartily disagree with me, that our victory was inevitable, and that every small step would build in momentum and overwhelm those who would seek to stop us."

The Josefino took a moment to take a sip of the wine, visibly enjoying the taste, and then stared out the window overlooking the impeccable view. "Gonzaga was the height of that optimism. Do you remember that day, su Alteza Serena? I had single-handedly taken the reins of history and guided them a different direction, away from ineffectual stagnation and towards meaningful progress, bringing socialism and freedom to Zarans they had never known before. Those who expressed alarm, cautioned patience, and condemned my impulsiveness simply did not grasp the opportunity I had seen and taken with my own two hands. I did not listen to them, for I struck a decisive blow against the Global Exploitation Conspiracy."

A chilly gust of wind took that moment to blow in, near perfect timing. "As history will show: it ended up far different from what I believed would happen. The Free New World did not rally to the new cause, for they seemed to fear socialism almost as much as monarchism. The Corrupt Old World took advantage of the disunity decisively, and now our nations are the two largest hubs of Zaran refugees fleeing medieval persecution and the advancement of totalitarian, absolutist autocracy on the continent."

El Presidente took another sip of his wine, the taste now somewhat soured not through any fault of the beverage. "What was once progress turned into societal regression, peace transformed into war, and prosperity became poverty, and we are one step further away from paradise. I do not show it to my people or my allies, su Alteza Serena, but I have come to doubt my ability to personally change the tide of history. I despair that I and mi compañeros will not overcome evil, and that I am not the chosen one to overthrow the Global Exploitation Conspiracy even though I do my damndest to scream it at the top of my lungs, literally and figuratively, every single day."

He then chuckled, as if in anticipation of a joke. "So I turn to the pleasures the world has to offer, to reassure myself there is something worth fighting for in on the planet God has given us, and even then I'm reminded that life is fleeting, and pleasure can turn into pain on a dime. Meaning is, perhaps, an artificial thing, but it is better than accepting that reality is meaningless, existence is pointless, and the ending will be the same no matter our attempts to overcome it."

"But... on the other hand, if it is indeed meaningless, then the fight can still be waged out of a sort of common decency, to help others make meaningless existence a little bit more meaningful as we all wait for an end we do not understand and likely never will, no matter what the priests or politicians say."

There was another long pause, then El Presidente turned back to Il Doge and smiled. "So... too long; didn't read, as the kids say, to answer your question: I am a despairing optimist, one who doubts his hope of a better tomorrow, but continues to press on and enjoy life while helping others enjoy life, because what else am I supposed to do?"

 

[Radilo]

The Doge looked down before turning his gaze back to El Presidente.

"I think you overestimate your enemies, you misconstrue their brutality for competance. This conspericy or whatever you fear is just the passing of greed. The listless yearning for power. It rots itself these evils, whether during the Great War or the savage attempt to restart colonialism.

Of course bad thing still happen. I could not see the light in the eyes of refugees if it didn't. But that light and those willing to fight for it are more numerous and more inspired than evil of this world could ever risk seeing."

The Doge paused for a moment, glancing out of the open window.

"In the Gosepel of St. Mathew, Christ outlines the terms of salvation... both secular and spiritual--God's ordination of human dignity is beyond question. We must fight for that, in terms both holy and... Savage. War is uncomfortable like that. It always has been and always will be.

This grotesque spectacle in the former Zara has made me question everything, like it has for you. But in that horror, I find my resolve. As you suggest... and maybe that's enough that to keep plowing through... accepting that you can't defeat it... only fight it...

I'm sorry, my friend. But many in Italia remember the fight for Gonzaga differently--they recall a foreign backed warlord presiding over the city, even if a well intentioned one. While there was sympathy with broad idea, especially on the left... we were confused... paralyzed... we should have known better and jumped on board with the cause, but we were too dumbfounded. It was just chaos, it seemed. When the Tarusans, under guise, invaded, it was clear there was nothing we could do.

In short, this was a tactical failure, not some commentary on human progress. It has nothing to do with socialism, authoritarianism, or the idea of the divine right of kings.

The world is, still, more peaceful, democratic, and free than it has been at any point in history--thus far at least. Should we be able to keep it...

Overall though, you have the right idea. If this world is, inevitably, hurling towards oblivion... it is better to fight on than to lie down. If there is anything left--let it be our dignity.

Remember, we are just meat and electricity, flying through the universe at the speed of light. We have nothing to fear.

Tomorrow, my friend, we enjoy umbra and cicchetti."

 

[Josepania]

Imperial Palace, Chagny

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The Imperial Palace in Chagny was a large and bustling place. People flew in and out of side doors and tourists crammed the streets surrounding the palace, each vying for the perfect picture. The Imperial Family had stopped using the palace in the 1920's as a residence. Instead, it had become the central Imperial Government offices. While it still was an official residence, its main function was as office space. The Emperor lived at the comparatively smaller 'Bishop's Palace'. A palace that had once belonged to one of the Empire's bishops. Bought in 1926, it had become the functioning residence of the Imperial household. Guests and even the Emperor would occasionally stay the night at the Imperial Palace; but it was certainly not a home in the true sense of the word. The Emperor had arrived early, as was his way, to conduct meetings. Yet, his appearance was certainly more relaxed. Khakis, a sweater vest, and cheap blue dress shirt with red tie was all the Emperor wore. He hustled down the steps to meet El Presidente as the Imperial Lancer Guard played welcoming music. Grasping El Presidente's hand with both of this, the Emperor smirked and expressed his welcome before offering El Presidente to join him back inside the palace.

It was hoped that El Presidente could lend a voice to Frankish concerns which are being quickly dismissed and to solidify the ability of the Empire to re-engage in the world. Not only that, but the Emperor believed that the two nations could tackle several problems together. It was true, the nations shared very different ideologies. Yet, Emperor Paul knew that there was common ground. He led El Presidente across oak and cherry wood parkay floors, the walls covered in tapestries and murals. Past rooms of offices, conference rooms, and every other kind. Finally, the two turned into a small lounge. There were a few people already there. Few even paid much attention to the Emperor. "This is a lounge that was originally built for the personal use of the Emperor, First Minister, and senior officials. Now it is restricted to secretaries and every Friday the cleaning staff have use of it during lunch time. Of course, nobody minds if I come in" he said with a smirk. "Might I offer you something to drink?" he asked, leading El Presidente to a pair of green velvet couches. "For lunch, I have arranged for us to eat at a small local restaurant. But I feel this is as good of a place as any to begin" he said with a Gallic shrug.

Imperial Palace, Chagny, @Holy Frankish Empire

"A glass of cabernet sauvignon, your choice of the specific brand and year, gracias. I trust your taste in the finer things of life, Your Majesty." El Presidente responded, shifting in the couch to be ever so slightly more comfortable, the cane that helped him into the palace now laid out over his legs. It was a very unusual sight to see the President of San José in anything but perfect health (though levels of sobriety was always a bit of a gamble), and many, many heads turned as he made his way through the palace with the Emperor, who was kind enough to slow his gait to accommodate the Josefino statesman as he hobbled onward. His aides tried in vain to get him to not resume his international tour throughout Europe, but the man wouldn't listen. As soon as he was cleared to leave the hospital, his travels restarted.

It was especially important to reconnect with the Holy Frankish Empire. Things had gone from bad to worse for relations between the anti-Tarusan world and the Franks, who found themselves politically aligned with the Tarusans and Scanians, two strange bedfellows if there ever were any, and engaged in neocolonialism in Himyar. The Tianese were especially upset at this, and economic war was brewing, something that the Josefino people wanted no part in despite their joining of CETO. El Presidente, although he too was opposed to Tarusan aggression and the aggression of its allies, was growing increasingly wary of the Tianese, and finding his nation walking toward a path of economic if not military ruin. Hence, why he was here, as well as to sample the Frankish delights in food and beverages, and above all else better understand the man sitting with him.

"Quite the eventful few months it's been, hasn't it?" He began, accepting graciously the glass offered to him by the Emperor with a respectful nod. "Conflict in Himyar that's disrupted the oil trade, sanctions and counter-sanctions between the Tianese and the Tarusans with no signs of slowing down, the Pope upsetting our Orthodox schismatics, and terrorism on top of everything else." At this he gestured to himself, claiming fairly understandable personal victimhood in that particular evil plaguing the world.

He took a sip of the wine, and closed his eyes in visible approval of the taste. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Your Majesty, but ever since Pannonia shattered, I feel that there has been a terrible misunderstanding between the Holy Frankish Empire and the rest of Europe that has opposed Tarusan aggression. A misunderstanding we've been unable to solve to this day, partly due to miscommunication, partly due to no communication at all."

He paused for ever so subtle meaningful effect, then concluded, "But more than anything, I think we, and I include myself in taking responsibility, don't understand what the Empire desires, and that fuels the paranoia, the distrust, the hatred that I've come to realize is misplaced. In fact, San José should not find itself an enemy of the Franks, but an ally against the Global Exploitation Conspiracy. So tell me, Your Majesty, what do the Franks want, and why do they feel the Tarusans understand what they want better than we do?"

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

The Emperor talked in hushed tones with the bar attendant before a 2015 cabernet was produced. It wasn't the most expensive but it was still rather good wine. The Emperor himself ordered a bitter cider and unhurriedly moved to join El Presidente. He nodded at his guests reference to the past few months and displayed a rueful smile before looking down and swirling the cider in the glass before taking a small drink. With an audible "ah" he held up his drink to admire it. The sweet and bitter apple drink was tempered with just enough alcohol and its coolness was deeply refreshing. The rueful smile returned at the mention of terrorism before it evaporated. With genuine concern the Emperor eyed the cane before becoming silent for a moment. "I trust your recover is going well? While I am sure you have brought a doctor, my personal physician is- of course, at your disposal" he said, shaking his head.

"Let me start by saying this- the Empire will not stand for terrorism. Our intelligence agencies are working against it as much as possible. That goes for all kinds. Terror is a sick weapon. Unfortunately, some states are even known to wield it as a matter of their policy" he said with tempered disgust. "It is hard to note exactly why they feel in such a way as to use it. But we live in a strange world" said the Emperor, before drinking deeply and holding up his already empty glass in order to alert the barman that he wanted another. "There seems to be not just misunderstanding" the Emperor said, closing his eyes and shaking his head once again. "There is a willful ignorance. A choice to ignore realities. In the great picture, we must accept that some nations harbor this ignorance- and jealousy. They sit behind a fake scaffold of morals and ethics which only apply to themselves when they are right. When they fail, they lash out. The EF is a wonderful thing. It is..." said the Emperor as he exchanged his empty glass for a full one and nodded his thanks. "It suffers from a hive mind of this ignorance" he said, leaning back once again into the orange-brown leather of the opposite couch. "They suffer from acute toddlerism. If things do not go their way, they meltdown. This is the problem with many of the world democracies" he said, sadly. "They lash out and paint us and Tarusa as the same" the Emepror said.

He looked down at his drink once more before taking a large sip. "I think their ignorance and toddlerism is based on fear. Not of the Empire or Tarusa- but of themselves when they are wrong. For instance, bring up the Frankish support of Ostmark. The free referendums and elections for the Patois. Anytime this is brought up, it is quickly brushed aside" he said, now leaning forward. "Let me ask you Presidente, are these the actions of a rabid dictatorship?" he said, with a straight but obviously annoyed tone. Now stabbing a finger on a knee, the Emperor continued. "Nations even refuse to acknowledge us as a democratic nation" he said with with more plain annoyance. "Yet, with the exception of the Electorate of Arches, every single constituent nation of the Empire is a fully functioning democratic country with their own elected governments. We have an elected Imperial Assembly. I do not even possess a tenth of the power that some claim I have. Nor do I want more than what I have." he concluded in a resigning tone. "They treat the Empire this way because it is convenient for them to overlook our democratic initiatives and hide behind their lofty rhetoric. They choose convenience over reality. They do this so they can feel good about themselves and sell their own brand" the Emperor said with a sigh.

"So what do we want? We want the willful ignorance to stop. The Empire could have easily taken far more than the Patois Republic. Yet we are accused of being expansionist with no grounding whatsoever. Because Tarusa and the Empire have common ground, the Empire must be the same. That is their story. Tell me, Presidente, do you feel now as you did in Tarusa? Am I a despot?" he said with a small smirk. "The Empire could have taken much more of Hajr just as easily as it could have taken more land last year. We took no oil production, we took no natural gas, we took a city and the surrounding area. Not for ourselves. Not for God. But for stability and the future. Not our future. Alexandrette needs stability, industry, and yes- even democracy. The EF left its mandate as a stinking backwater when it could have done so much more. Alexandrette, if one looks at a map is so much more than a city by the sea. Its security is paramount for international stability. The best way to do that is to bring it a functioning government and foundation for an economy. In time" he said with a pause to finish the cider, "they will be an independent and thriving nation. Small, yes. But with a soul that they never had before" he said as his eyes lit up. "We stability for the world. We want order. While our actions may seem contradictory to those who are fed the fired rhetoric of the so-called democracies; it is a realism that the world must face. These nations, so opposed to the Empire are desperate. They are desperate for anything they can hold on-to that can counter Tarusa's world position. So the Empire is a tool for this- despite all the evidence and all of the truth. They mold their truth into lies so they can sling us as a stone against world opinion. The Empire's alliance with Tarusa is one of convenience. This is no illusion between Tarusa and the Empire. In many respects, we do not share the same views. Yet, it seems that we find ourselves in common cause over a pseudo-realpolitik. We want a world no longer shrouded by this blind idealism. As you have seen, it leads to one thing- discord. We want a world in which the Frankish people are secure and no longer have to worry about biological missiles being targeted at her cities. We want a world in which nations no longer hold out a cupcake with one hand- shit in the other, and swap them after you accept the cupcake. We don't want a new world order. We don't want Tarusa to rule the world. We don't even want the Franks to rule the world. And as crazy as it sounds and as hard as it is to accept, the nations aligned against us are the bigger threat to the world"

 

[Josepania]

The Emperor talked in hushed tones with the bar attendant before a 2015 cabernet was produced. It wasn't the most expensive but it was still rather good wine. The Emperor himself ordered a bitter cider and unhurriedly moved to join El Presidente. He nodded at his guests reference to the past few months and displayed a rueful smile before looking down and swirling the cider in the glass before taking a small drink. With an audible "ah" he held up his drink to admire it. The sweet and bitter apple drink was tempered with just enough alcohol and its coolness was deeply refreshing. The rueful smile returned at the mention of terrorism before it evaporated. With genuine concern the Emperor eyed the cane before becoming silent for a moment. "I trust your recover is going well? While I am sure you have brought a doctor, my personal physician is- of course, at your disposal" he said, shaking his head.

"Let me start by saying this- the Empire will not stand for terrorism. Our intelligence agencies are working against it as much as possible. That goes for all kinds. Terror is a sick weapon. Unfortunately, some states are even known to wield it as a matter of their policy" he said with tempered disgust. "It is hard to note exactly why they feel in such a way as to use it. But we live in a strange world" said the Emperor, before drinking deeply and holding up his already empty glass in order to alert the barman that he wanted another. "There seems to be not just misunderstanding" the Emperor said, closing his eyes and shaking his head once again. "There is a willful ignorance. A choice to ignore realities. In the great picture, we must accept that some nations harbor this ignorance- and jealousy. They sit behind a fake scaffold of morals and ethics which only apply to themselves when they are right. When they fail, they lash out. The EF is a wonderful thing. It is..." said the Emperor as he exchanged his empty glass for a full one and nodded his thanks. "It suffers from a hive mind of this ignorance" he said, leaning back once again into the orange-brown leather of the opposite couch. "They suffer from acute toddlerism. If things do not go their way, they meltdown. This is the problem with many of the world democracies" he said, sadly. "They lash out and paint us and Tarusa as the same" the Emepror said.

He looked down at his drink once more before taking a large sip. "I think their ignorance and toddlerism is based on fear. Not of the Empire or Tarusa- but of themselves when they are wrong. For instance, bring up the Frankish support of Ostmark. The free referendums and elections for the Patois. Anytime this is brought up, it is quickly brushed aside" he said, now leaning forward. "Let me ask you Presidente, are these the actions of a rabid dictatorship?" he said, with a straight but obviously annoyed tone. Now stabbing a finger on a knee, the Emperor continued. "Nations even refuse to acknowledge us as a democratic nation" he said with with more plain annoyance. "Yet, with the exception of the Electorate of Arches, every single constituent nation of the Empire is a fully functioning democratic country with their own elected governments. We have an elected Imperial Assembly. I do not even possess a tenth of the power that some claim I have. Nor do I want more than what I have." he concluded in a resigning tone. "They treat the Empire this way because it is convenient for them to overlook our democratic initiatives and hide behind their lofty rhetoric. They choose convenience over reality. They do this so they can feel good about themselves and sell their own brand" the Emperor said with a sigh.

"So what do we want? We want the willful ignorance to stop. The Empire could have easily taken far more than the Patois Republic. Yet we are accused of being expansionist with no grounding whatsoever. Because Tarusa and the Empire have common ground, the Empire must be the same. That is their story. Tell me, Presidente, do you feel now as you did in Tarusa? Am I a despot?" he said with a small smirk. "The Empire could have taken much more of Hajr just as easily as it could have taken more land last year. We took no oil production, we took no natural gas, we took a city and the surrounding area. Not for ourselves. Not for God. But for stability and the future. Not our future. Alexandrette needs stability, industry, and yes- even democracy. The EF left its mandate as a stinking backwater when it could have done so much more. Alexandrette, if one looks at a map is so much more than a city by the sea. Its security is paramount for international stability. The best way to do that is to bring it a functioning government and foundation for an economy. In time" he said with a pause to finish the cider, "they will be an independent and thriving nation. Small, yes. But with a soul that they never had before" he said as his eyes lit up. "We stability for the world. We want order. While our actions may seem contradictory to those who are fed the fired rhetoric of the so-called democracies; it is a realism that the world must face. These nations, so opposed to the Empire are desperate. They are desperate for anything they can hold on-to that can counter Tarusa's world position. So the Empire is a tool for this- despite all the evidence and all of the truth. They mold their truth into lies so they can sling us as a stone against world opinion. The Empire's alliance with Tarusa is one of convenience. This is no illusion between Tarusa and the Empire. In many respects, we do not share the same views. Yet, it seems that we find ourselves in common cause over a pseudo-realpolitik. We want a world no longer shrouded by this blind idealism. As you have seen, it leads to one thing- discord. We want a world in which the Frankish people are secure and no longer have to worry about biological missiles being targeted at her cities. We want a world in which nations no longer hold out a cupcake with one hand- shit in the other, and swap them after you accept the cupcake. We don't want a new world order. We don't want Tarusa to rule the world. We don't even want the Franks to rule the world. And as crazy as it sounds and as hard as it is to accept, the nations aligned against us are the bigger threat to the world"

Imperial Palace, Chagny, @Holy Frankish Empire

To the query of his recovery from the terrorist attack, El Presidente smiled reassuringly. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I've been told by my physicians that it is progressing well, all things considered. They would have preferred I stay in my hospital bed, or at minimum in San José, as would my security forces. But I feel well enough for light travel, especially on important business such as this. I appreciate the offer, however, and hope I do not have to call upon their services too often."

He then allowed himself to lean back in his couch, watching and listening intently to the Emperor air his grievances as the Josefino sipped his wine, nodding when appropriate to show he was listening, giving the Frankish head of state his full attention.

"Your Majesty, I think I'm beginning to understand both you, and the reason why the democratic nations of Europe look upon you in a poor light. As of late, the Empire has been a rather decisive force, and its decisiveness has not benefitted the democratic world, at least from their perspective, primarily because it's been stubbornly unilateral. That unilateral decisiveness has, I think, bred paranoia, contempt, and refusal by them to cooperate with you in all future incidents and endeavors. A tantrum, as you essentially sum it up as, because you don't play by their rules."

He paused to take another sip of his wine and gather his thoughts, his expression mildly pensive and with a hint of annoyed regret. "Take the Gonzaga incident as a comparative example. You of course remember that day, when I brought about a socialist coup in Zara and drove out an ineffective, de jure democratic but de facto oligarchic government that was more concerned with debates and discussions that produced no results than actually surviving against the Csgenians and Tarusans. I expected the democratic world, who I was simultaneously in a conference with, would praise my efforts to bring some decisive progress to that conflict, or at minimum accept it and work with it. Instead it paralyzed them with indecision, and made them resent, rebuke, and ridicule me, and consequently send no aid to the socialist government that was installed, which contributed to its ultimate downfall. And to this day, they do not regret their petty, short-sighted response that resulted in an absolutist monarchy reconquering Zara and murdering democracy in its cradle. This is because I did not consult them beforehand, or even give them warning of what was going to happen: I simply did it because I knew it was the right thing to do. And they punished me by not aiding my creation, and forcing me back into a more... subservient and supportive role in aiding their cause."

He then gave a wry smile to the Emperor, "Perhaps you see some parallels to what happened with the Patois Republic? You unilaterally intervened in Bourdignie because you wanted to curb growing influence there by the Germanians in the Scanlaw, if I recall correctly, and ensure democratic conditions flourished in the Patois regions at the bare minimum. But regardless of why you intervened, you chose not to consult, let alone warn, your fellow democratic entities. You just did it anyway and expected them to follow your decisiveness, enthusiastically or otherwise. Instead: resentment and hatred was bred and is nurtured to this day. It poisoned efforts in the European Forum to curb the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, and to follow through multilaterally on the elimination of inefficient, neocolonial mandates throughout Himyar, which has led to today. The difference between you and me, is that I chose to accept subservience to 'the process' of consultation, discussion, and deliberation amongst the democratic world; become a tool in the democratic community, as you summed it up. You have not. It remains to be seen who's made the better choice here."

El Presidente took one final sip of his wine and set the empty glass on the table next to the Emperor's own finished glass. "So to answer your questions: I can reassure you that you are less of a despot than the Tsar, both the past and present ones, and the Empire, however flawed from a socialist ideological perspective, is not a rabid dictatorship. You also, however, choose not to discuss, deliberate, or consult with fellow powers, but instead act first, and that does propel the democratic world into fear: fear of you. Have you noticed how they've taken no initiative in any of the recent crises that have engulfed the world? They've always reacted and reaction breeds contempt, frustration, and anger towards the actor who has forced them out of the stupor of content stability into action, and they have no real leader to guide them out of said stupor into something resembling decisiveness. The closest candidate as of late is Tianlong, and their geographic and cultural isolation from the center of crisis has led them to holding on tightly to ideals over pragmatism, which has become an increasingly grave error from my viewpoint. The Empire and the Scanlaw have both been rejected from joining CETO, the former before the conference even began, the latter after they refused to provide any sort of unified voice that catered to the ideals of democratic anti-imperialism. Such decisions have driven you both closer into what I see as an unholy alliance with an increasingly aggressive and boisterous Tarusa that presents a threat to stability and peace. And it's happening again with Pelasgia, god help us."

A small, sharp internal pain caused El Presidente to wince for a moment, before he was able to visibly relax again. The painkillers could only do so much to numb him to the long process of recovery from the bomb blast and subsequent surgery. He then sighed wistfully, both from the fading of the pain and for what he was going to say next. "In truth, I believe the Holy Frankish Empire is the natural candidate for leadership status within the democratic world. A balance between pragmatism and idealism, flexibility to switch between the two, and commitment to action when it is needed are qualities of a leader. Yet... the well has been poisoned, trust shattered, and it'll be hard to flush out poisonous paranoia and rebuild trust. I don't know how these bridges can be repaired, but I believe they must. Because yes, the democratic world IS a threat to the stability of the world due to their indecisiveness and stubborn refusal to be pragmatic, I will not argue that. But surely you see that Tarusa's aggressive imperialism, mockery of democratic ideals, and destabilizing efforts to build their war machine constitute an even graver immediate threat to that which we both desire: a threat to world stability?"

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

The Emperor nodded and before answering waved over the barman and whispered to him briefly. As the barman went off, the Emperor frowned at the wince from Presidente. A look of concern again flashed across his face. The look disappeared quickly as Presidente went on, seemingly ok. Within a few moments, the barman returned and laid out a small tray with meats and cheeses. Stooping forward, the Emperor helped himself to a small piece of cheese. Chewing in thought, the Emperor scratched his knee. After a few moments of silence, the Emperor let out a small sigh. "The democratic world, or rather the democratic block, has no need of a leader. There, they are all leaders in their own eyes. This, I think, is part of the definitive problem. The move to deal with the Patois situation was a calculated one. Perhaps a mistake, perhaps not. A missed opportunity to discuss for sure. Yet, it is very fresh in one's mind when we made to engage with the democratic block following the situation. There is a reason our European Forum representatives rarely speak. We are discounted and virtually ignored. Yes, our actions with the Patois are part of their reluctance to engage. Yet, we still offered dialogue. Instead, this dialogue was not accepted. Not because of our actions, but because of their pride. Their rhetoric. And ultimately, their vanity" the Emperor said with a small smirk. The Emperor exhaled audibly and crossed his arms.

"Maybe it is an unholy alliance we are in. All three nations have very different approaches. Yet, we all agree that the world as it is, is made less stable by the cohorts of mental invalids that the democratic nations put into power. They, in my view, make the world less stable. Democracy is a fickle thing, Presidente. Perhaps this is where we share some common ground in thought- you and I. A democratic system only works with universality of participation. This goes for on the international stage as well as at the national one. Say a citizen fixes a street without consulting the government. The government has other plans for said street. But the citizen no longer wished to wait for it to be fixed. That citizen is then chided for not making any consultations. Taking this experience, the citizen then attends a local council meeting and voices their concerns. These concerns are brushed away despite the citizen's attempts to participate. Is this universality? So, I put to you, if the Empire were to leave the so called "unholy alliance"- where do you think the Empire would be? A welcomed citizen once again or, more likely an outcast?"

 

[Josepania]

The Emperor nodded and before answering waved over the barman and whispered to him briefly. As the barman went off, the Emperor frowned at the wince from Presidente. A look of concern again flashed across his face. The look disappeared quickly as Presidente went on, seemingly ok. Within a few moments, the barman returned and laid out a small tray with meats and cheeses. Stooping forward, the Emperor helped himself to a small piece of cheese. Chewing in thought, the Emperor scratched his knee. After a few moments of silence, the Emperor let out a small sigh. "The democratic world, or rather the democratic block, has no need of a leader. There, they are all leaders in their own eyes. This, I think, is part of the definitive problem. The move to deal with the Patois situation was a calculated one. Perhaps a mistake, perhaps not. A missed opportunity to discuss for sure. Yet, it is very fresh in one's mind when we made to engage with the democratic block following the situation. There is a reason our European Forum representatives rarely speak. We are discounted and virtually ignored. Yes, our actions with the Patois are part of their reluctance to engage. Yet, we still offered dialogue. Instead, this dialogue was not accepted. Not because of our actions, but because of their pride. Their rhetoric. And ultimately, their vanity" the Emperor said with a small smirk. The Emperor exhaled audibly and crossed his arms.

"Maybe it is an unholy alliance we are in. All three nations have very different approaches. Yet, we all agree that the world as it is, is made less stable by the cohorts of mental invalids that the democratic nations put into power. They, in my view, make the world less stable. Democracy is a fickle thing, Presidente. Perhaps this is where we share some common ground in thought- you and I. A democratic system only works with universality of participation. This goes for on the international stage as well as at the national one. Say a citizen fixes a street without consulting the government. The government has other plans for said street. But the citizen no longer wished to wait for it to be fixed. That citizen is then chided for not making any consultations. Taking this experience, the citizen then attends a local council meeting and voices their concerns. These concerns are brushed away despite the citizen's attempts to participate. Is this universality? So, I put to you, if the Empire were to leave the so called "unholy alliance"- where do you think the Empire would be? A welcomed citizen once again or, more likely an outcast?"

Imperial Palace, Chagny, Holy Frankish Empire

El Presidente visibly paused to weigh the Emperor's question, taking his own few slices of meat and cheese before responding with quiet acknowledgement of a fair point, "It is a valid question you pose, Your Majesty, one that, without participation from any other actors, inevitably leads to the latter answer: an outcast."

He spent another moment leaning back in the couch, savoring the taste of the food he had recently acquired, as though pondering the question further, then continuing with renewed vigor, "But, it does not have to be this way, and this current meeting is proof of that. To continue developing and expanding upon your symbolic scenario of the decisive citizen and irresponsive government, say there are certain citizens who have grown unhappy with this government's actions, seeing and take action themselves within their community to meet with other citizens in an attempt to convince them that the cause of the decisive citizen is worth reconsideration, and that at minimum they should indeed be welcomed back into the community as a prodigal son, to borrow biblical language, instead of treated as an outcast."

He then smiled warmly, his intensity and determination rebuilding with each sentence uttered. "That is what I offer to do for you: to be that unhappy citizen newly determined to convince the people in power in the Rheinbund, in Radilo, and even in Tianlong, to cease shunning you and the Empire. To make them understand that they should each make a genuine effort to reopen dialogue and discussion to heal the diplomatic wounds and bring some form of unity to the democratic world again. If they resist or protest, I can remind them that their continued pride and stubbornness will only drive the Empire further into the arms of the Tarusans, and in doing so they will each continue to assist the Tarusans in their goals of sowing division and discord amongst the democratic world."

That smile then faded, and became a graver, more serious expression of worry, though the intensity did not fade, but evolved with the tone. "Because Your Majesty, I believe it is fair to say that the Tarusan Empire has the most to gain from a destabilized and disorganized world. As my evidence, see their political gains in Pannonia, with the marriage of one of the sons of the late Tsar to the Queen that confirms their status as a vassal state and expanding at the expense of Bourdignie and Zara; their military occupation of the Thalgau following the partition of Bourdignie that grants them access to the Meridian Sea; their colonial expansion into the former Al-Magreb that grants them further bases of operation and control over Himyar; their most recent annexation of Sankt Katarina islands in the seas off Occidentia that provide further expansion of their influence and power. These are not gains in the democratic world, they are clear and objective losses."

With all of this build-up, he reached the crescendo: "So I am compelled ask you: does none of this disturb or perturb you, especially given the Tarusans don't even pay lip-service to the virtues of democratic governance? Or do you believe they have been satiated by all of these conquests in geopolitics through all mediums available to them and will be satisfied with stability and peaceful coexistence? Even now with the new Tsar who, as all young men are wont to be, is likely ambitious to surpass the accomplishments of his father?"

"In other words, Your Majesty: do you already believe it to be a fool's errand to have me plead your case on your behalf? Or is there hope in undoing the damage that has been done?"

As he concluded, the Josefino statesman suddenly felt weary and dizzy with fatigue. It appeared his own ambitions to be his usual, charismatic and expressive self had new limits as a consequence of his current physical condition. Perhaps his doctors knew what they were talking about with their worries of him continuing his diplomatic travels abroad rather than resting... he was stubborn, though, and determined to press on. Too much was at stake for him to just give up.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

The Emperor shook his head slowly. He cocked his head in thought for a moment before pursing his lips. His eyes slowly shifted as if he were intently reading an invisible text- taking stock in what was before him. "The Empire would be an outcast for many many years Presidente. We would be nothing but le putain. Our voice drowned out. Surely, if needed, those tongues that would be sharp yet condescending to us would change if the might of the Imperial sword was needed. But otherwise we would still be an outcast" the Emperor said. "I think we both know the scorn which would stand for many many years- perhaps generations. The Rheinbund" the Emperor said, with a chuff, "probably view us as Satan incarnate. We are the great threat to their envisioned utopia. A democracy that does not play by their utopian rules. We are such a threat, that their so-called government won't acknowledge us as anything but a despotic wasteland. Funny thing about poisonous talk. It lingers, spreads, and sticks. Like the probable Rheinbund view, the other democracies see us as a threat because we are decisive, pragmatic and refuse to hide behind a rhetoric...which they refuse to abide by. It is a sad day when their own contradictory behavior is weaponized into some kind of moralistic mantra" the Emperor said without any anger or annoyance. "Presidente, I will be honest with you if you are honest with me. Do you really believe that these snakes would welcome us back as a prodigal son?" he asked. Before an answer could be given the Emperor frowned. "Tarusa" he said, the word lingering on the Emperor's lips. "Tarusa's power isn't in its arms or allies, Presidente. Its power comes from the emptiness of democratic nations to take a stand. Tarusa is playing old politics- realism, pragmaticism, and practicality" the Emperor said with a Gallic shrug followed by a sigh.

The Emperor frowned again and opened his mouth but closed it, his face clearly in thought. "You know, the thing is that the Empire chose to align with Tarusa out of necessity. I think that is obvious. Maybe we are indeed hypocrites also" he said with a sardonic smile. The Emperor looked off into the distance, a sad look on his face. "Presidente, the truth is that Tarusa may benefit from instability. The fact is, in the end, they are bringing order to the world and that has its own appeal. It isn't a fools errand, Presidente. We see the writing on the wall. Maybe that makes us worse as both a hypocrite and one who is willfully standing by. To be honest, I don't know. I simply, don't" he said, looking off into the distance. "I do know that the Empire no longer has a bunch of missiles pointed at her populated cities. The oil is cheap. Our nation has a stable and functioning democracy. Our people are free. I've done what I can to preserve the prosperity of the Frankish people" he said, standing to help himself at the bar- the barman visibly confused and unsure what to do as the Emperor made himself a drink from behind the bar.

"There is a point, Presidente" he said, coming out from behind the bar, "that we must ask ourselves what our mission is. Not personal. How do we best uphold our oath. For you, it is doing the right thing and fighting 'global exploitation' wherever it may appear" the Emperor said, sitting down. "I can't tell you that we have always done the right thing. But we have been decisive, pragmatic, and practical. That has been prosperous for my people. I can't tell you that the Empire will ever fit into some kind of utopian, pan-democratic-socialist, and internationally fraternal community. I can tell you, Presidente, that maybe I am not the one that needs pleading with" he said, clearly not offended nor trying to cause offense. " I can only make you one promise- the Empire will never allow Tarusa to make the world Tarusa"

 

[Josepania]

The Emperor shook his head slowly. He cocked his head in thought for a moment before pursing his lips. His eyes slowly shifted as if he were intently reading an invisible text- taking stock in what was before him. "The Empire would be an outcast for many many years Presidente. We would be nothing but le putain. Our voice drowned out. Surely, if needed, those tongues that would be sharp yet condescending to us would change if the might of the Imperial sword was needed. But otherwise we would still be an outcast" the Emperor said. "I think we both know the scorn which would stand for many many years- perhaps generations. The Rheinbund" the Emperor said, with a chuff, "probably view us as Satan incarnate. We are the great threat to their envisioned utopia. A democracy that does not play by their utopian rules. We are such a threat, that their so-called government won't acknowledge us as anything but a despotic wasteland. Funny thing about poisonous talk. It lingers, spreads, and sticks. Like the probable Rheinbund view, the other democracies see us as a threat because we are decisive, pragmatic and refuse to hide behind a rhetoric...which they refuse to abide by. It is a sad day when their own contradictory behavior is weaponized into some kind of moralistic mantra" the Emperor said without any anger or annoyance. "Presidente, I will be honest with you if you are honest with me. Do you really believe that these snakes would welcome us back as a prodigal son?" he asked. Before an answer could be given the Emperor frowned. "Tarusa" he said, the word lingering on the Emperor's lips. "Tarusa's power isn't in its arms or allies, Presidente. Its power comes from the emptiness of democratic nations to take a stand. Tarusa is playing old politics- realism, pragmaticism, and practicality" the Emperor said with a Gallic shrug followed by a sigh.

The Emperor frowned again and opened his mouth but closed it, his face clearly in thought. "You know, the thing is that the Empire chose to align with Tarusa out of necessity. I think that is obvious. Maybe we are indeed hypocrites also" he said with a sardonic smile. The Emperor looked off into the distance, a sad look on his face. "Presidente, the truth is that Tarusa may benefit from instability. The fact is, in the end, they are bringing order to the world and that has its own appeal. It isn't a fools errand, Presidente. We see the writing on the wall. Maybe that makes us worse as both a hypocrite and one who is willfully standing by. To be honest, I don't know. I simply, don't" he said, looking off into the distance. "I do know that the Empire no longer has a bunch of missiles pointed at her populated cities. The oil is cheap. Our nation has a stable and functioning democracy. Our people are free. I've done what I can to preserve the prosperity of the Frankish people" he said, standing to help himself at the bar- the barman visibly confused and unsure what to do as the Emperor made himself a drink from behind the bar.

"There is a point, Presidente" he said, coming out from behind the bar, "that we must ask ourselves what our mission is. Not personal. How do we best uphold our oath. For you, it is doing the right thing and fighting 'global exploitation' wherever it may appear" the Emperor said, sitting down. "I can't tell you that we have always done the right thing. But we have been decisive, pragmatic, and practical. That has been prosperous for my people. I can't tell you that the Empire will ever fit into some kind of utopian, pan-democratic-socialist, and internationally fraternal community. I can tell you, Presidente, that maybe I am not the one that needs pleading with" he said, clearly not offended nor trying to cause offense. " I can only make you one promise- the Empire will never allow Tarusa to make the world Tarusa"

Imperial Palace, Chagny, Holy Frankish Empire

El Presidente frowned in disappointment, not just from the Emperor's words, but from the realization that he wouldn't be able to make further progress on getting the Empire to join CETO. From what he'd heard, it'd never happen, not without drastic, unrealistic changes within both the Empire and the CETO members as they currently stood.

"You may be right, Your Majesty, that the poison is too deep for even I to remove and ensure there is harmony and peace between the Empire and the nations in CETO. But you are also correct in highlighting Tarusa's greatest strength. It is why they are the arch-conspirator of la Conspiración de Explotación Global."

With visible effort, the Josefino stood and hobbled his way over to the bar, this time asking the barkeeper to fix a Josefino Libre, granting the poor, confused man purpose again after the display by the Emperor of fixing his own drink. As the delicious poison was prepared he turned back to the Emperor. "I do mean this with as much respect and little offense to you as I can muster: I firmly believe that the Franks currently engage in hypocrisy through passively standing by and allowing the world becomes less democratic, the status quo further overturned and a new dominant power allowed to emerge. Yes, there is an allure for order, for a certain flavor of stability that emerges in the short-term. But you know as well as I a ticking time-bomb has been allowed to be placed, and the short-term gains the Franks have undoubtedly acquired will be offset when that bomb goes off, and they find themselves having to follow through on your promise to me: that the world will not become Tarusan. Because this new Tsar, I think he wants that, or as close to that as possible. He, unlike you, is not satisfied with what has been achieved, because it's what his father has achieved. He wants his own achievements, and they will cause further chaos and instability that will destabilize the cheap oil, destabilize trade routes through sanctions and war, and make it harder to maintain the prosperity of the Empire unless it ties itself more closely to an authoritarian, imperialist power."

By the time El Presidente finished his argument, the drink was ready, and he accepted it with a grateful nod to the barkeeper and hobbled back to the couch. His trek was unsteady, but the drink in his hand remained still, the result of years of practice through extreme inebriation. "But fear not, I'm not going to plead with you anymore to join CETO and the democratic powers. Truth be told, I've become disillusioned with them myself. This recent Pelasgian affair has soured things, and events in my own backyard within Gran Occidentia turns my primary focus inward, to ensure la Conspiración de Explotación Global does not take root there. If anything, this Non-Alligned Organization that has sprung up in Corrientes, Ostmark and Pelasgia intrigues us, and I believe it should intrigue you as well. Tell me, would the Franks find more prosperity, in the long-term, through leaving the Gothic Sea Pact simultaneously with San José leaving the Central European Treaty Organization, and both of us joining the Organisation of Non-Aligned Nations? The nations involved do not seek war, only mutual prosperity, and do not allow idealism to blind themselves to pragmatic security in the realm of politics, economics, and security. And it would leave us both out of the bickering and quarreling between Tarusa and Tianlong."

He took a sip of his drink and sighed appreciatively, nodding in approval, then looking to the Emperor. "Think about it, Your Majesty. It'd certainly allow for more opportunity for us to see each other more often, not as potential foes, but as allies instead. I for one would like that, I hope you would as well."

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

The Emperor tilted his head and displayed a small smirk. "Presidente, of course it is hypocrisy. More importantly, it is pragmaticism. But it is a far cry from pointless hypocrisy" the Empreror said, a small look of pleasure on his face. "You see, Presidente, there is acceptable hypocrisy in the case of pragmatic behavior. No ideals, no. But pragmaticism. For instance, a controlled burn. Firefighters set fires and purposefully burn an area. Hypocrisy? Yes. But a disjointed one- no. The firefighters know they must work with fire to shape a field a certain way to ensure that when, not if, but when there is a wildfire it is more easily controlled and fought. Does this make the firefighters bad? Are they the hypocrites? Or are they willing to take short-term heat for long-term security?" The Emperor said, his smirk gone. "I hate to be the one to point this out, but the Empire is still receiving cheap oil. Its because we played the pragmatic game and have not poked the bear" he said. The Emperor stood and paced the room for a moment, obviously in deep thought. He lightly scratched his nose as he returned to his seat.

"Presidente, we are not letting the world to become less democratic. We are allowing a controlled burn. It may be harsh. It may seem counterproductive. One day, democracies will wake up and act as a fist instead of their limp-wristed flails. But..." he said, with a pause. "Your point remains valid. The new Tsar is admittedly a big question mark. I think we can agree that Tarusa as hegemon is not acceptable. It seems we agree that CETO- at least in its current state, is a rolling clown car. But unalignment.....that is certainly something. I cannot say I am thrilled at the idea. It means giving up much that we have built. The Empire is not meant to be a cowed dog in a corner. But it is indeed an avenue that I nor my government have explored. And though we are not allies, I believe us to be partners already"