Exile

[Josepania]

"Only the misfortune of exile can provide the in-depth understanding and the overview into the realities of the world."
Stefan Sweig





On-Board the MS Birger Jarl
Somewhere in the Great Sea

01:20 AM Local Time, 10/11/2010​

"Exiled..."

A cloudless night sky was empty save for a near-full moon, which seemed to be trying to match the sun in brightness as it illuminated an empty, lightly churning sea. At least, mostly empty, save for a solitary object cutting through the ocean of darkness, weakly lit when compared to the heavenly light of the moon. That object was one of man's many attempts to become master of all on earth, living and inanimate, the MS Birger Jarl, an otherwise unremarkable Suionian passenger liner on its way to its frozen homeland.

On this ship, most of the passengers were in their rooms sleeping, or perhaps in one of the bars working towards alcohol-induced sleep, while the crew was at work making sure the ship reached its destination reasonably on-time. One man, however, was isolated from these men and women, on one of the mid-decks to port, leaning against the railings and looking off into the distance, not focusing on anything in particular, for his mind was too busy with other matters.

He was a young man, in his twenties, lean in physique, though average in height. Clothed in a somewhat cheap and outdated business suit, complete with a battered black fedora that kept most of his hair under control, his hazel eyes wandered throughout the slightly surreal background behind slightly smudged glasses, yet despite looking unfocused, one could tell the gears in his mind were turning.

"Exiled..." he repeated as his pale hands briefly clenched the rail, before relaxing again. He was indeed an exile from a land barely held together by a weak, near anarchic government that, nevertheless, still apparently had the power to kick out one of its sons, merely for pointing out that the status quo was completely unsustainable.

Everyone he knew agreed, to varying degrees of enthusiasm, that the current system of government, the current way of life, was fundamentally broken. There was no power for anyone. Governments shifted and changed at least once a month, sometimes once a week in particularly bad moments. The economy was next to non-existent, international prestige unheard of. His land, his otherwise beautiful homeland, so full of potential, was an embarrassment to the world, ignored by the Council of Nations except as yet another receptacle for donations to keep the place from completely collapsing. His land was, in their eyes, too broken to fix, but too important to let dissolve into official anarchy. Unofficial anarchy was good enough.

That was not good enough for him though. He wanted change, and he wanted it now, immediately, post-haste. That somehow got the attention of those who happened to be in charge, and before they were inevitably swept from power, they managed to officially brand him a traitor to his homeland, and sentence him to the humiliation of exile, never to return on pain of death.

He was now stateless. He had no contacts, no one he could turn to for assistance. He, like this ship he stood on, was in the middle of nowhere, isolated from the rest of the world.

But... perhaps... that now meant he had nothing to lose.

That was why he was on this ship, heading for a land he had only just recently heard of, a recently "acquired" translation book for Suionian in one of his pockets. He would make use of his inglorious exile, and travel all over the world in search of ideas, concepts, anything useful. With an army of knowledge, he would invade the corrupt morass that was his homeland, halt the decay, and bring sweeping reform. After all, before he had the mistake of moving too soon. He had the courage to declare the system was wrong, but he did not have the information or means to follow through with reform. He needed to learn what could be used to solve the many problems his people faced day by day. Money would be useful too, maybe even volunteers sympathetic to his cause, both armed and unarmed.

He needed to see, in short, how nations were meant to be run, so he could ensure his own nation could join them.

"I will return one day..." he muttered, eyes narrowing in determination as he focused his gaze in a direction that led to his destination in Suionia.

"Or die trying."

 

[Josepania]

"Everybody needs to start somewhere for anything, be it drastic like a revolution, or mundane like going to a restaurant."
Revan Shepard





Holding Area: Docks of Drottningargarden
Suionia, Scania

08:43 AM Local Time, 12/11/2010​

He knew this would happen, and had half-heartedly considered methods of sneaking past security, but in the end decided it just wasn't worth it. He was already in trouble with one 'nation' (that was a loose definition though, considering the state of his homeland), didn't need to be in trouble with multiple ones, not yet at any rate, not while he had no money or manpower behind him.

So, instead of trying to worm his way past the security checkpoints, he simply told the clerk that he was a political exile from his homeland and, thus, had no travel papers on him. As to how he had gotten on the MS Birger Jarl, he simply snuck on board. His straight-forwardness had clearly stymied the clerk, which was probably why his current situation wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Sitting in the drab, dull grey room, it reminded him of a doctor's waiting room, just comfortable enough to ward off major complaints, but boring enough to make you almost long for an otherwise undesirable appointment. The clock on the left wall ticked loudly, while the wall on the right was a one-way mirror, so whoever occupied the other side was anonymous for now.

Sitting in the metal folding chair, he considered his next options carefully. Should he expand on his story truthfully, let out that he was exiled because he was considered a revolutionary by a regime that was, by now, probably already swept from power, and he had every intent of eventually returning to his lands to return order? Or should he lie? Was it even worth it? For all he knew, the Suionian intelligence agency knew everything about him, though he figured it was unlikely, considering the simple fact the lands he was exiled from were engulfed in chaos.

No, perhaps he would rely on bold truthfulness, and when the Suionian sent in to question him walked in, he immediately said in the lingua franca of English, "My name is Revan Shepard, and I am a political exile from my land of Aresura. I apologize for not having proper travel documents on me, but I hope you understand that I was not issued such items from the corrupt morass that is my government."

 

[Saxe-Friesken and Polaben]

"...we are part of the liberal democratic heritage of western civilization. But to us freedom has meant much more than formal rights and democratic institutions. To us freedom means the removal of obstacles for individuals to develop their personalities, the removal of injustices that quench our best yearnings for a better future. We stress common responsibility and a sense of community above egoism and rugged individualism. We say that you cannot build a good society on acquisitiveness. To us freedom is inexorably connected with social justice and the transformation of the capitalist system."​

Hannah Lundqvist, Prime Minister of Suionia





Holding Area: Docks of Drottningargarden
Suionia, Scania

08:57 AM Local Time, 12/11/2010​

The Suionian man took a seat at the desk opposite of the man. The man pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote down 'Shepard, Revan' on the form he then laid out on the desk. His own name tag read 'K. ÅKESSON', safety pinned onto his navy colored uniform which was neatly buttoned and had the logo of the Migrationsverket (Immigration Service) embroidered on his arm near his shoulder. Mr. Shepard had begun to speak to him in English and thus according to protocol he was required to speak in English to him. He himself understood several languages, although English was not one of his favorites, he considered himself a fan of Dutch. A language he had worked in often considering the fairly high amount of foreign workers that arrived from Batavië. Åkesson spoke clearly with a slight accent that might have sounded a bit funny to a native English speaker, but certainly not as bad as some Suionians you might find.

"Mr. Shepard, I'd first like to welcome you to Suionia. From what I understand you've stated you're from Aresura. You've stated that you lack the proper documents required to enter Suionia and therefore we have a few, but ultimately limited choices. I cannot have you just enter the country. You don't have proper documentation. You can apply for residence. For obvious reasons I cannot just give you citizenship, this is a process. In fact a process that will generally take three to five years depending on how you act here in Suionia. Residence is the first step to becoming a citizen here in Suionia, which is what I believe has led you to Suionia in the first place. Otherwise you could have taken a boat to anywhere else in the world... yes? So, if this is what you are interested in I will need to you tell me about your living situation in Aresura and why you have come to Suionia. I enter this conversation without any prior knowledge on Aresura. Obviously I have some, but for the purposes of your application I will attempt to speak without prior bias... oh, and if you excuse me, if this isn't why you've come to Suionia and you are in transit, we can issue you a Resedokument. A... uh, travel documents to allow you to travel other places in the world with some form of documentation as to who you are. The Resedokument only lasts five years and cannot be extended. We'll take your fingerprints, a photo, and other various information and send you to the port of your choice."

He paused and scratched his head. Looked at carefully at Mr. Shepard and continued, "With all due respect you are a man without an identity... without a nation. It would be smart for you to apply for residence. If it is a problem you can always terminate your application for citizenship in the future, but this process will allow us to issue you a Främlingspass, er... or, well an alien's passport of some kind, and the ability to work and live in Suionia of course. You will need to attend monthly courses on integration and how to find a job in Suionia though. Do you need time to think, or are you ready to make a decision?"

 

[Josepania]

"Were a man able to know the consequences of every decision he made in life before they were made, that man would rule the world. I aim to be that man."​

Revan Shepard





Holding Area: Docks of Drottningargarden
Suionia, Scania

09:13 AM Local Time, 12/11/2010​

Revan inclined his head slightly, "Thank you Mr... Åkesson," He replied, knowing full well he probably mangled the name with his own accented English, "If you could just give me fifteen minutes to think things over, I would be most grateful."

As the Suionian official closed the door to the room, the Aresurai exile leaned back in his nearly uncomfortable chair and thought to himself. Both options were, frankly, not what he was looking for. He wanted to meet with a government official of some kind, preferrably as high as Revan could go, and explain his situation. Considering his current standing however, which was probably in the 'Nobody Important' category, that seemed too unlikely to work, so for now, he'd have to play along and pick one of the options offered to him.

Suionian citizenship wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Worst came to worst, he could have that to fall back on. He did not, however, want to stay in Suionia for too long, especially if it couldn't offer what he needed. But truly, where else could he go at this stage? Wouldn't he just get the same kind of treatment?

Applying for residence seemed to be the best thing to do at this stage. Everyone needed to start somewhere after all, and who knows? Perhaps if he was patient, an opportunity would arise, and he'd at the least have a back-up plan if things went sour. He would not, however, allow himself to be entranced by whatever Suionia had to offer. No matter what it had, he would never be a Suionian. He was an Aresurai, and he had made a solemn vow that he would return, someday, or die trying.

So, when exactly fifteen minutes had passed, and K. Åkesson walked back into the holding room, sat down, and waited patiently for an answer, Revan said, "I suppose you are right Mr. Åkesson. Applying for residence may be my best option at this time."

As the Suionian official brought out the official paperwork, Revan continued, "You said earlier, should I choose residence, that you wanted to know my living situation in Aresura and why I came here? Well, I'll tell you."

Taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, he leaned back in his chair and began, "Quite frankly sir, my situation back in my homeland was poor, at best, compared to the standards of many other European countries. As you are, no doubt, aware, Aresura is a warzone, with more factions than I can keep track of, and never able to have a government last for longer than a month. In fact, I would not be surprised if the government that banished me has already been replaced. Ah, but I digress..."

"I suppose you could say I was a lower middle-class citizen, Anglysh-pirate in heritage along with who knows what else ethnicities swimming around in my blood. For awhile I was content to just keep my head down like most normal Aresurai, and hope the civil war didn't notice me. It worked, until about a month ago, when, returning from my job, I noticed my home had been burned down by some faction that didn't like Anglysh Aresurai. I had done nothing to deserve their actions, but they burned down my house anyway. It may not have been a house many of your citizens would've been proud to live in, but compared to some of my countrymen and women it was quite luxurious."

"It was then I decided that my country was fundamentally broken, and seeing as the international community refuses to do anything about it except keep the conflict contained, I figured that I'd have to do something about it myself. I began assembling other, likeminded Aresurai, making plots on how to topple the current government, how to stay in power, and how to bring reform. Very amateur stuff, I admit, but apparently it got the attention of the powers-that-be at the time. I think they were Wazi Revivalists... anyway, they quickly arrested me and my comrades. I don't know what happened to them, but I do know that they banished me from my homeland, never to return on pain of death."

Revan then smirked, "Which brings me to your second question: why Suionia? I mean no offense sir, but you were not chosen by me. I actually couldn't choose any country. There was a Suionian passenger liner stopping off at Daeva, the capital, at the time, and the government figured that was the best way to kick me out of the country. So, I was shoved onto the liner, your officials probably bribed to keep from reporting a technical stowaway... and so here I am, talking to you."

"Understand this sir, my first priority is not to become a Suionian citizen, however attractive that may be. My goal is to return to Aresura, and follow through in bringing stability to that land. If applying for residence here will provide the least harm to my efforts in achieving that goal, so be it. I would prefer that you bring me to someone higher up in the power food chain who can help me, but I suppose that's impossible at this stage. I am, as you put it, "A man without an identity... without a nation." No one save you will listen to me now, not until I have some standing, and if applying for residence is the best way to achieve such standing... so be it."

 

[Saxe-Friesken and Polaben]

"To live and survive, society has to be characterized by an all-embracing solidarity, a power of entering into the conditions of others, a feeling of joint responsibility and participation. Otherwise it will sooner or later fall apart into petty egoism. There exists no "they and we" only "us". Solidarity is and has to be indivisible."​

Hannah Lundqvist, Prime Minister of Suionia





Holding Area: Docks of Drottningsgården
Suionia, Scania

09:34 AM Local Time, 12/11/2010​

Fascinating. This was perhaps the single most interesting story Åkesson had heard all year. Usually someone just spoke about wanting to move to some place safe and perhaps finding a way to bring their family with them. This was different, perhaps a revolutionary of some kind. Honestly he had no ability to get anything done for him, but he could send Mr. Shepard off on the right foot. "Mr. Shepard, I understand your situation to some extent. I'm not sure how well our news coverage is of your plight in Aresura, probably not as good as it should be, but I think I understand your goals. I find them noble. I don't know how realistic they are, but stranger things have happened. Let me finish up some of this paper work quickly and I can get you on your way."

Åkesson quickly wrote down a great deal of information in the various boxes on the pieces of paper. None of it Mr. Shepard could read as it was all done in Swedish. Åkesson smiled as he dotted his I's and crossed his T's. Åkesson proceeded to take Mr. Shepard's picture and obtained his fingerprints and other various information including his weight, height and eye color. With a few last check-boxes that were quickly checked, he handed over the paper to Mr. Shepard. "I just need you to sign and date at the bottom."

As that was done he smiled and shook Mr. Shepard's hand.

Åkesson stood up and walked over to the door, he opened it and motioned for Mr. Shepard to follow. "You are officially applying for our Permanent Residence status. I've given you the educational background and skills required to work at the University of Drottningsgården in their Social Sciences College as part of their administration or something similar. You'll likely be working as a secretary or some kind of similar job. The benefit to this is you will be working at one of the top universities in Scanogermania and likely under someone who might work closely with the region of the world you are interested in. Hopefully you can meet some one there who can help you achieve your goal. You'll receive payment for your work and lodging at the University. At a minimum you'll have a month in their lodging, but perhaps you can work out a deal to stay longer.

"Just take the paperwork you have and present it to the clerk down the hallway and to the right. They'll give you a transit pass that will last you for seven days and your temporary residence papers, those will expire eight months. You should have your Permanent Residence papers arrive in the mail before the end of the month. Just take the T-Bana northbound and get off at the Östra Aros-Uppsala Nord stop. It's the second to last stop on the main T-Bana line, so you can't miss it and it's easy to backtrack. Don't worry too much about language, you'll pick it up easily. If you know some Norwegian or Danish, you'll get it even faster. You should be able to get around mostly with English or if you know some German. Naturally this is because of our proximity to Cornavia, Franken and Arendaal. Good luck and I hope things in your homeland get better!"

 

[Josepania]

"Never refuse to listen to advice. No matter how ill-advised the counsel may be, you can find a kernel of genius if you look hard enough."
Revan Shepard


Three Weeks Later...


University of Drottningsgården, Social Sciences College
Suionia, Scania

10:34 AM Local Time, 3/12/2010​

For the past month, Revan Shepard, future revolutionary and (hopefully) savior of Aresura, had found little time to actively pursue his agenda. Having followed the directions and advice of the customs agent, the University had accepted Revan's request for a job and temporary lodging, and had kept him busy ever since. If he wasn't helping a PhD student-whose name he STILL couldn't quite pronounce-in various projects, he was taking crash course lessons in how to speak Swedish. The language was very difficult for him, likely because of the mental block he had put up to not only it, but his whole situation in Suionia.

He knew if he fully committed to both the language and the job, he could master both easily. Here it was, the opportunity to start a new life and live far better than he ever did in Aresura... but he could not give in. He had another job to do, other things to learn, both far more important than his job here, and the language he learned now. He had to return to his homeland, and this was merely the first of many stepping stones to that goal.

In his free time, when he wasn't keeping himself alive with food or recharging his energy with sleep, he was doing research on Aresura, learning about its present day facts, finding out its history, discovering how it was viewed by the outside world. Material on his lands was, unfortunately, rather slim. In fact, most of his research came from his work with that Suionian student. For the student also had an interest in Aresura, though perhaps not the same level as Revan, and had put the Aresurai to work in finding out everything that could be found on the mysterious, chaotic land.

The current project was about the economy of Aresura, or rather, the lackthereof, and why it could be explained historically. Through relentless hunting, Revan had seen that, historically, the economy of Aresura had been based around the plunder from Aresura's infamous pirates, who had terrorized the Green Sea up until the mid-1800s. This plunder was not only gold, jewels and spices, but slaves as well, very precious goods to any nation with a strong agriculture. With the downfall of slavery however, thanks to the rise of industry requiring skilled workers, slaves became far less desirable, and it was finally put to an end in Aresura in the 1860s on the "strong insistence" of the Wazi monarchy, acting on the even stronger insistence from the international community.

So accustomed to the status quo of a plunder economy, the Aresurai were slow to transition to a more civilized economic system, and thus fell behind technologically as well. Propped up by the Wazi government until its collapse, radical economic reforms geared towards a self-sustainable economy prompted an economic collapse alongside a political and social one. Currently, the system could best be described as a barter economy, money having little practical use among the populace.

It was painful to Revan, reading about the failures of his country, but it was a necessary pain. It would teach him how to correct these failures without overreaching, he kept telling himself. He also began speculating about possible reforms and putting them down to paper.

A mixed economy, he figured, was the best system that could be implemented in Aresura, but only bit by bit, easing Aresura away from a barter system rather than quickly tearing it away. Small businesses would have to be the beating heart of the economy, but their ability to turn into far larger corporations would need to be restricted. Corporations reduced the quantity of competition (though the quality was, he granted, up for debate), a vital component of a healthy capitalist economy, and corporations had a very annoying tendency to involve themselves deeply in the act of governing a nation, especially if they grew too large and too powerful.

Benefits for the population also had to be implemented. Free healthcare, reliable unemployment benefits, all the while making sure one could not become too dependent on the system. A government had to take care of its people and provide for the basic necessities, but a government was nothing without productive citizens.

And of course, it all had to be done quickly enough so that the government could survive and adapt to the international economic world, but not so quickly that it prompts a collapse and return to a barter system.

Economics, like language for Revan, was challenging and difficult to focus his mind upon. But, he had to become competent, have a strong understanding, and have a few workable ideas if he was to have any shot in seeing Aresura through these dark times into the light...

 

[Saxe-Friesken and Polaben]

"Hard work always pays, whether that return is in cash or praise, that is dependent upon personal preference and whether or not you bought her flowers."
Johanna Liljeberg




University of Drottningsgården, Social Sciences College
Suionia, Scania

10:36 AM Local Time, 3/12/2010​

Johanna walked up behind him like a ghost. She did this often, walking in behind Revan without him even noticing. She'd often observe his work until he finally did notice or entirely startle him whenever he seemed to be in a deep thought. She didn't know if he was always deeply absorbed in his work, entirely unaware of his surroundings, or if she was just exceptionally sneaky.

Revan was given to her to help her work on her PhD work. She was to write a book on Aresura. It was the focus of much of her studies and it was something she felt passionately about. Aresura was one of Europe's greatest tragedies and needed to be a more important part of the European community and the European presence of mind. Europeans paid not attention to this troubled piece of land and she felt it was ignorant and utterly disrespectful to humanity itself. Ultimately it was her goal to improve the situation in Aresura via her writing or on the ground work.

"Hej Hej! Hur mar du!?" She announced loudly and triumphantly behind him causing him to jump. She knew his Swedish was terrible, but she hoped by speaking it more often he would slowly pick up on the language.

"I hope I didn't startle you too much, but we have a lot of work to do. That and I wanted to talk to you specifically about what you wanted to do here. From what I understand, and what you've told me, you've wanted to do much more beyond the realm of Suionia and... well I was thinking last night and I feel that you should have a lot more input in our research. You are Aresuran after all and you actively speak about a desire for change there too. There is only so much you can learn in a university after all. We do have to hit the field for fieldwork and to learn about other things like water systems, waste disposal, and an assortment of other things too. So what do you think we should focus our next month on? I'd really like to know what you think because I've directed this project myself and sometimes I like hearing what other people have to say. My last... uh... helper? She didn't get along too well with me and I thing we have a pretty good relationship." She gently scratched her forehead with her index finger and pulled her long blond hair back. She wasn't too terribly tall, roughly five feet, eight inches (173cm) and had a fairly thin build. She didn't eat too terribly much which often had her mother insulting her for being anorexic. She wasn't really anorexic of course but was light tempered so that teasing didn't usually bother her. She had her contacts in today, leaving her rather large and boxy black glasses behind. Smiling she added, "Oh, and I asked you how you were doing."

 

[Josepania]

"Loyal companions are invaluable this day and age, indeed, in any day and age. Treasure them always."​

Revan Shepard​

University of Drottningsgården, Social Sciences College
Suionia, Scania​

10:40 AM Local Time, 3/12/2010​

Revan never got used to Johanna's sneaking skills. His startled yelp when she surprised him was concrete proof of that. He always got lost in his own world whenever he was studying something he considered important, which on the one hand helped him absorb informaton more efficiently, but on the other hand left him vulnerable to the mischief of Johanna, who never seemed to get tired of spooking him. He had, albeit vaguely, requested she snap him out of his work less forcefully, but she either didn't get the message, or chose to deliberately ignore his wishes.

While he attempted to recover and ease back into reality, she was bombarding him with questions, thoughts, whatever popped into her head that seemed important enough to broadcast into the world. At the very least, she did it in English, rather than Swedish, or else he would never be able to follow her. Grumbling as she finished off her tidal wave of information with a translation, he eventually responded.

"I'm fine, all things considered... I was nearly finished reading an article about the history of Aresurai economics. My notes and the articles I read should provide you enough information on the economical aspect of our project to get you started."

Passing said notes and articles to Johanna, he paused briefly to recollect the rest of her words. What was that about his input? She wanted more of it, making him more of an equal partner in the project? Perhaps even getting a chance to leave the university and doing fieldwork? Now that was welcome news. He had been waiting for an opportunity to begin travelling, but his finances were still too far away from the amount necessary to pay for it all. Now was his chance to get out of Suionia and resume his quest to return to Aresura.

Of course, now it looked like he was going to have a partner in this quest. She could slow him down, get him bogged down in the more trivial aspects of Aresura, aspects that didn't need his attention... on the other hand, she could open up new avenues to information, or contacts. Things that would make achieving his goals all that much easier. Perhaps he would tolerate her presence, at least for a little while, make ditching her in some other European country a backup plan.

"As for my input... well... along with doing the usual research on Aresura, I have also looked at other European nations, which may provide for some inspiration in returning my homeland to the international community. One of the prime examples, I've determined, is Batavie, what with its recent turn away from communism and rapid ascent towards being an active part of the international world. Perhaps we should turn our attention there, get some information on how the changes were made, and how they affected Batavie socially, economically and politically. Such knowledge would be invaluable in the long run..."

By Johanna's expression, she seemed quite receptive to the idea. 'Perfect... now to just talk my way past the financial aspects of this little expedition...' Revan thought to himself as he settled more comfortably into his chair, continuing his pitch for a trip to Batavie...

Twelve days later...
Vlaanderen International Airport Gate 7
Batavie, Scania
3:31 PM Batavian Time, 15/12/2010​

There was a light snow falling on the airport as Johanna and Revan stepped out of the walkway connecting the airplane from Suionia to Vlaanderen's largest and busiest airport. There had been a delay of half an hour due to both the weather and the simple fact that this was the holiday season. Lightly shoving their way past a literal sea of people trying to make their flights or, like them, just get the hell out of the airport, Johanna led the way with her better command of the Batavian language. Revan, like with Swedish, had almost no command of Batavian Dutch, constantly looking into his Anglysh-Batavian complimentary translation book for help in understanding even the simplest words and phrases he was hearing and seeing all around him.

Vlaanderen, so far, was nothing like anywhere in Aresura, even the de facto capital Daeva. It was so western, civilized, and busy, but an organized busy, not like the chaos in Aresura whenever one faction was trying to beat off another faction, or when Council of Nation aid packages were being distributed. This was, apparently, day-to-day organized chaos that Revan could not easily wrap his mind around.

"And one day, Aresura will be just like this..." the Aresurai said out loud, already looking to the future and becoming lost in his thoughts again, being blindly led through the airport by Johanna.​

 

[Batavië]

Vlaanderen-Vaanta International Airport Terminal 1
Batavia, Scandinavia
15:44 Götköping Mean Time -1, 15. Dec 2010​

Much to Revan's disappointment he would quickly notice that all of the new airport signs, providing directions and information to restrooms, exits, ticket desks etcetera were in Dutch with Swedish and German in smaller text below. No English. He could thank the Cold War between Cornavia and Batavia for that. English, since the 1950s, had been looked down upon, was rarely taught and only a few diplomats, businessmen and academics that had dealings with Cornavia or Breotonia had ever bothered to learn it. Swedish, with 5 per cent of the population speaking it as a native language, was slowly being recognised as necessary to post information in (with the country of Suionia also being the largest NC economy and with the highest population, many argued that the government was catering to Suionians rather than the Batavian-Swede minority).

After following signs reading: 'Paspoort Controle/Paskontrol/Paß Kontrolle' in Dutch, Swedish and German, respectively, they arrived at the line. Workmen were adding the finishing touches to new signs above the glass booths with the passport control workers. They read: 'NC Citizens' 'All Others'. Although not yet in force, the airport operators were preparing for the passage and implementation of the common inner boarder of the NC, making travel easier and faster once inside the Northern Council.

Both carrying Suionian passports, Revan and Johanna got through easily. The passport agent quickly checked the information, swiped the passports through the database system and gave them a set of stamps. No visa required, 4 months to do as they pleased.

Following yet more trilingual signs the pair reached a public transportation station in the lower level of the airport. The newly-expanded Vlaanderen Overground train ran every 4 minutes either to downtown Vlaanderen or the nearby, posh and affluent township of Braamfontein. Johanna went to an automated machine and bought them both single ride tickets. She validated them at a punch-machine and they boarded the brand new trains, financed largely with grant and loan money from a host of nearby countries.

The interior display screens provided information about which line they were on, the destination stop and upcoming stations. A recording of a man's voice spoke in clear Dutch (without dialect): 'Terug blijven, alstublieft' (stand back, please). The red lights above the doors flashed, a somewhat loud alarm rang and the doors shut. The sound of the electric engines grew as the train quickly accelerated out of the station and further onto the raised track heading into the city proper. The snow whizzed by. A pleasant three-tone chime rang and a woman's voice announced the next stop.

Johanna, being a very organised woman, hadn't packed her bags to go to Batavia without some sort of plan. Perhaps Raven operated as such, but not her. Through a contact back in Suionia she managed to get in touch with a professor of political science at the best financed and best placed university in the country: Hilversum University. When they exited at Vlaanderen Centraal main station a man dressed in a typical Breotish tweed jacket, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and carrying a large umbrella, met them by the platform.

He spoke his least favourite and heavily accented language, English.

'Welcome to Vlaanderen!' he shook both travellers' hands and led them first to a currency exchange counter.

'Don't worry! Come new year's day you'll be able to use the same currency in Suionia as in Batavia. We can get rid of these Nieuw Rand and start paying in Noorddaalders.'

The older man's age (no one knew exactly, but he looked as if he was near 70) caused him to forget giving the pair his name.

'Gracious me! I have forgotten to introduce myself! My name is Pers. Henrik Pers, at your service. Come, let us get you two to the hotel. I hope it suits both of you.'

They walked a few blocks from the train station. The street was wide, in total 10 lanes across. A massive statue at a roundabout portrayed a Batavian soldier holding up a hammer and sickle in both hands. A reminder of the communist era, not yet removed and probably never would be if not simply due to it's size. A few side streets away they arrived at the Scanian Occidental, easily the finest hotel in the city. Pers checked them in and handed them the key. The rode the glass lift, overlooking the lobby, to the fifteenth floor. They entered a suite with a lovely few of the city. At first glance one saw an endless sea of construction cranes. The foreign investment, both in the form of government loans and money from the private sector, had lead to quite a construction boom since April. Everything from office towers to flat blocs were being built with no end in sight.

'Oh, I...uhh, hope it isn't a problem that there is only one bed. They're fully booked.'

Pers spat out a rushed sentence in English about meeting downstairs in the lobby in an hour after they freshened up. He closed the door and removed himself from the somewhat awkward situation they seemed to have gotten in.

While waiting for Reven and Johanna, Pers removed his mobile and rang someone in Hilversum.

Welcome to telebat. The subscriber you are trying to reach is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.

'Dammit, Zoekman.' a minute later his mobile lit up and rang.

'Sorry, I was still in a committee meeting. They're working non-stop on the freedom of movement act. It's been a long week.' said the voice of Zoekman on the line.

Pers looked up as the glass lift carrying Revan and Johanna began to descend.

'Zoekman the two that I told you about are here in Vlaanderen. I'm going to show them around for two or three days and then we are going to take a train to Hilversum. Can you meet with us on Tuesday morning?'

'Sure, as long as it's before one. Committee starts then.'

'Fine,' sighed Pers 'we'll take an early SpoorJet train Tuesday morning. Where can you meet?'

'Come straight to the NC complex. Parliament Tower. We'll have a norocrat's breakfast in the cafeteria.'

'Right, until then, bye.' Pers rolled his eyes. A 'norocrat's breakfast' consisted of coffee and a white paper. He couldn't wait.

Revan and Johanna exited the lift and approached Pers.

'Tell me what you want to do first!'

 

[Saxe-Friesken and Polaben]

"A Suionian man may have first circled the globe, but honestly, in modern times he's only useful because he gave us coffee."​

Johanna Liljeberg

Scanian Occidental
Batavia, Scandinavia
18:00 Götköping Mean Time -1, 15. Dec 2010​

Johanna was still unamused with the sleeping arrangement. She hadn't confronted Revan about it yet other than the blank stare she gave him when Henrik first mentioned the bed. It wasn't in her nature to complain about the situation. The lodging was being paid for by either the Batavians or the University. Not that it was really in the nature of a Suionian to confront anyone about something so trivial anyway. She only thought that he better not snore, and if that were the case it would be a blessing. She had only changed into more professional looking clothes, that being out of jeans and t-shirt and into a skirt and dress shirt. A women's trench coat covered her as they walked out of the room and into the elevator. She didn't take too long to get ready, but she did want to strike a good impression with anyone she might meet today.

The elevator ride was really smooth and she and Revan talked about how nice of a hotel they were staying at. It was casual small talk. The kind of small talk where it would seem rather obvious to any observer, but to the participants in the conversation it just seemed natural. Perhaps almost rhythmic to the kind of partnership they had slowly developed at the University of Drottninggåarden.

As the elevator door opened when it reached the bottom she stepped out with Revan and walked towards Pers who immediately asked what they wanted to do. In all honestly she didn't like Batavië. It felt a bit strange being there and her Dutch language skills were manageable but poor. It was a blessing he'd speak to her in English. She couldn't really think about what she wanted to do, but she did know what she wanted.

"Shall we have

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? While we do that we can set an itinerary. I believe we wanted to perhaps talk to some professionals that deal with the reformation of the Batavian state from communism to capitalism and perhaps some kind of ranking official on economic affairs. I'm in no hurry though, although I'm sure Revan has much more on his mind as for things that need to get done." She smiled and looked over at him, "He's been a great help on this project we're doing and he has a great mind of his own. I think it might be worth picking at it over dinner tonight as well."

Pausing and looking at the elevator fly upwards again, she looked back at Pers with a smirk. She swung her head back towards Revan, very quickly to add a quick addition to her statement. Giving the kind of eye contact that most women liked to have when they spoke. Contrary to male conversation where a man could stare blankly at a wall without ever looking at who he was talking to. "Revan, was there anything you wanted to do especially for the rest of the day? Well, aside from perhaps disagreeing with my stomach. It is 18:00 after all... and we do have as much time as we'd like in Batavië as far as I know. Correct Mr. Pers?

 

[Josepania]

"Coffee? ... I've always preferred tea myself..."​

Revan Shepard​

Scanian Occidental
Batavia, Scandinavia​

6:02 Local Time, 15/12/2010​

Revan himself was uneasy about the sleeping arrangements in their hotel room, and would've been more visibly irritated about it towards the hotel staff, but Johanna didn't seem to be concerned enough about it to warrant his complaining, and besides, he remembered in an article he read only a few days ago that hotels tended to do this with couples, official or not, especially during the holidays. It was not official policy, but it was apparently a time-honored tradition going back hundreds of years, the reason why lost to time. Besides, he had already planned to tell Johanna later on that he wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor. It was still a step up from the bad days in Aresura with the hotel's soft floor...

Dressed in his now cleaner cheap business suit, it took a moment for him to respond to both Johanna's and Henrik's inquiries, as though he were a foreigner trying to get a grasp of the language, but in actuality was mentally tearing himself away from his observations of Batavia's capital, or what could be seen from ground level at any rate. He had never seen so many buildings being constructed at once, and while to the normal European it would have been an ugly sight, to Revan it was inspiration for his imagination of future Aresura. Foreign investment would not only get a halfway decent infrastructure going, it would create jobs, jobs that would give the Aresurai something to do other than either hide from the fighting factions, or be part of those factions. Work would give his countrymen a purpose, something to be proud of, and would be one of the first of many steps towards a revitalized Aresura.

"Coffee doesn't sound too bad right now... it is rather cold after all. It is as Johanna said though, I would like to speak with some of your... professionals regarding the social, economic and political aspects of Batavia's transition from communism to capitalism, as quickly as is convenient of course..." Even though he was slightly impatient, he didn't want to appear so. He wasn't in charge of this trip after all, and besides, being polite and patient got more results. "In the meantime, a general tour of your capital would be quite enlightening, and a good way to pass the time. I'm interested in all visual aspects of your capital, even those that others would consider ugly and... unworthy of observation. This is a very important project to me after all, as my boss can testify."

While technically not a boss, Johanna was nonetheless usually visibly flattered by the title, so Revan didn't mind throwing it out there from time to time.

 

[Batavië]

'Ideas must be implemented via clear directives.'​

Arjan van Vliet

Scanian Occidental
Batavia, Scandinavia
19:04 Götköping Mean Time -1, 15. Dec 2010​

Pers brought them first to a café nearby the hotel. It was a bit cold to spend time searching for a place. They had coffee and cakes. The Suionian girl would notice the wide selection of both typical Vangalan beans and new arrivals from Suionian overseas territories. They did not spend much time sitting and drinking. Pers could see that Revan was eager to see the city.

They walked a few blocks to one of the main transit stations in the city, De Graaf Straat. Still not renamed, the widest boulevard in the city was now full of Arendaaler, Suionian and Franken luxury designer brands. They rode the new escalators to the Overground station and waited by the platform. Pers thought that a tour via the Overground would be the best, cheapest and quickest way to see the city. (let's forget the fact that by now it is dark thanks to winter...)

Electronic displays informed travellers of the next trains incoming, their line numbers, next stops, expected delays etc. Automated messages periodically came through as they waited for the next train. They ran every four minutes at this hour. The automated voice of a woman was heard as the electronic display flashed the text of their incoming train. In clear, standardised Dutch the voice said: Overground train O2 approaching. Please stand clear of the tracks.

The throng of travellers lined up along yellow lines and arrows painted onto the platform floor. When the Overground train approached, the doors lined up with these lines, which showed travellers to wait next to the doors and allow those on-board to exit first before they could enter the train. And so the people did. It functioned as if like a computer programme. There was no pushing or shoving or confusion. When the last of those on-board exited, Pers, Revan and Johanna got on and took a seat. The red lights above the doors flashed and an alarm sounded as the doors began to shut. An automated man's voice in the train said: Stay back, please. Public transit researchers had discovered that people responded best to public messages when female voices provided information and male voices gave direction.

The train pulled out of the station and began speeding along the elevated track. The electronic display within informed them of the upcoming stations.

A chime sounded and the woman's voice was heard again: Next stop, Zingapoer Weg. Exit, left.

Pers turned to his company. 'So, the Overground train system is entirely new and built mostly with foreign money in the form of loans and grants. The network still has a year or two until finished, but the central areas are connected, as well as Braamfontein, the wealthy township to the north, and the airport. The government believed it to be faster and cheaper to build Overground trains rather than expanding the very basic underground metro, which only has two lines. Although, the underground has gotten modernised trains and there are plans to expand it. They just need the money. You can get to most of the city with this baby, however.'

They went from station to station, remaining on-board. Pers would point out the window to various buildings, construction sights and streets, giving brief explanations and explaining to them what was there, or wasn't, during the communist era.

'Here we have the Government District.' he pointed across the river to a collection of large, concrete buildings. 'Not too pretty, designed by the communists, but very functional. De Jonghe and the Social Dems decided to keep the buildings and everything centralised. Makes it easier than running all over town just to find a minister!' he chuckled and was about to continue when a chime sounded and the automated male voice came on.

Please remember to refrain from eating or drinking on public transit. The minimum fine is thirty northern dollars. Thank you.

'Ah, the Vlaanderen public transit system is probably the only one in the world that reminds its passengers what to do. They'll be telling us when to breath next!' he laughed again, reinforcing the very true Batavian stereotype of laughing at one's bad jokes.

After about half an hour and having changed onto the 'ring line', which consisted of Overground trains that encircled the inner part of the city, Pers pointed to a concrete building of about twenty storeys high, somewhat out of place with the low-rise flat blocs around it.

'That would be the Vepo archives.' he said as the train sped along, passing by what looked like a very poor area. 'I tried getting us access to rummage through the last documents of the SV, the former name, as I have heard they wrote some interesting stuff in their last hours about the fate of the state. We don't have the security clearance, I am afraid. They don't like to budge.'

The train had almost completed its loop around the ring line when Pers told them to get ready to get off. The female voice said the rest for him:

Next station, Oostkruis. Change here for Overground service to Roergangerplein*, Centraal Station, Braamfontein and Vlaanderen-Vaanta International Airport. Exit, left and right.

Oostkruis was where the ring line met the Overground line that cut through the city centre. A mass of commuters heading home rigidly followed signs telling them to 'Keep left' when walking. Arrows painted on the ground assisted with the directives. It was machine-like and incredibly efficient.

'This isn't the nicest of neighbourhoods and just a year ago pretty empty.' Pers explain as they walked down the stairs to street-level. 'But there's a great Kryobaijani place around the corner with great polmenis. You can also see great examples of cheap, efficient and quick architecture.'

As they walked to dinner they passed rows and rows of identical looking buildings, usually four or five storeys high, most with small balconies. Family flats, a few small offices. Kiosks selling newspapers, cigarettes and lottery tickets were on most corners as were brand new cash machines, which hadn't existed during the communist times.

'Before you ask, no there isn't a state monopoly on kiosks but the city council passed a law over the summer mandating them to use a uniform logo and signs so as to make finding them easier. Kiosks are very important in Batavia. We have one of the highest daily readerships in the world for newspapers and weekly magazines and they are traditionally meeting places for cheap coffee and discussion of current events and politics, now that people can speak freely.'

As Pers explained this they passed by a kiosk where two young men, probably in their mid twenties, were sipping coffee and smoking Vangalan cigarettes by the kiosk, talking about the South-Gallia Conflict with the kiosk owner.

'There is nowhere to sit or go inside, which made them perfect during the De Graaf years. You could easily walk away when the SV or police came by. Ah, here we are!'

He led them in to a small restaurant and they found a table. The waiter, speaking broken Dutch with a heavy Kryobaijani accent, brought them menus. Pers was starving and was interested to hear about their first impressions.

'Soon we'll be heading to Hilversum. It's smaller than Vlaanderen, richer and more outward-looking as the NC is based there. Totally different. I thought it was important to show you the centre of the country, first. Twenty per cent of the population, three and a half million people, live in and around this city.'




*Dear-Leader-Plaza