Josepania
Establishing Nation
BRANCH OFFICE OF THE GENERAL SECRETARY OF THE NIEBSWI PARTY, OSWIECIM PALACE
OSWIECIM, LOWER SWIECZIEMAN CONFEDERATIVE MEZHIST REPUBLIC
9/3/1952, 3:43 PM
The silence in the room was continuously broken by the rapid-fire clacking of the typewriter, its keys being struck almost seemingly at random, yet were quite deliberate and focused in their rhythm, as the General Secretary typed out his most recent report on the general state of Lower Swiecziema. Steel grey eyes peered through wire-framed spectacles as the typing paused and the General Secretary observed his handiwork with cool neutrality, feeling neither pleasure nor dissatisfaction as he did so. He regarded this task as menial, but necessary, for it was another step towards his true goal. That goal was for Józef Grudzinski, last surviving son of the Steel Hero and Premier Dawid Grudzinski, to become the next Premier of Lower Swiecziema.
He certainly looked the part, when compared to the propaganda posters constantly distributed around Lower Swiecziema. While quite lean in physique, when dressed up in his almost iconic greatcoat he looked far more imposing, helped by his public expression, a mask of grim determination to weather whatever is thrown at him. Emphasized by his short haircut and those steel eyes when not hidden behind his glasses, which he only took out in private or when reading something. And best of all, at least from an aesthetical standpoint, he looked young, fit, and healthy, an example all Swieczieman men should follow.
But that same strength was also his greatest weakness, the one thing that made his ambitions supremely difficult to accomplish: he was young, far too young. At only twenty-five years of age, despite slowly approaching a slightly older twenty-six, the thought of him leading the Lower Swieczieman Confederative Mezhist Republic was preposterous, especially to those already in power. The Veterans, the Steel Heroes, all had been older than he, though not much older, when they overthrew the Imperium and established the Mezhist Union. Now they were quite old, and had grown quite stubborn in the process, narrow-minded, unwilling to believe that their time was over, and they needed to step aside.
The Sanacja* movement needed to continue, they had said and would continue to say. The corruption of the Imperium had run deep, and only they understood how to purge Swiecziema of that corruption, for after all, they were alive during the final years of the Imperium, and remembered how bad it was. Józef had not even been born yet, so he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, how much more work needed to be done.
But the young man disagreed. He didn’t need to understand the past, he just needed to understand the present, and what he could understand was that the Mezhist Union had stagnated, halted its spread of influence, too busy it was on its own internal troubles to much care for the outside world. It committed itself only to the containment of the Soviet Republic of Miroslavl, the Hated Enemy, and completely ignored Mezhism’s Mortal Foe, the Worker’s Republic of Carentania. There was, it was true, a time for Sanacja, but that time was spent, and spent well. Now was a time of action, decisive and aggressive, geared towards the elimination of communism as a threat to the Mezhist Union and the establishment of its unequaled dominance of Sarmatia.
Józef believed all that, and believed he was destined by fate, by God even, to bring about that Golden Age for Swiecziema, to rival and surpass the Golden Age centuries before. But he also knew that, alone, he could do nothing but scream and protest, and be ignored. So, a year ago, he decided instead to stay silent and wait for the opportune moment. It had come two months into that tactic, when his father, Premier Grudzinski, suffered a major heart attack and, although he recovered soon after, was visibly weakened by the affliction. Despite the constant, almost violent disagreements between father and son, the former had appointed the latter to the post of General Secretary of the Niebswi Party, an appointment that had prompted widespread protest among the Premier’s colleagues. But the Premier, for reasons known only to himself, insisted, and Józef soon after took over the duties of the General Secretary.
Said duties were purely administrative, and profoundly boring. Perhaps it was Dawid’s way of acknowledging his son’s ambitions and appeasing them, at the same time sticking him in a position that would allow him to get more experience so that, when Józef was older, he would be truly ready. Józef had no intention of waiting that long, but he had also swallowed his pride and recognized the true benefits of his new position. Not only were they following Dawid’s intentions, they also allowed Józef to acquire contacts. These contacts could be found in the military, the diplomatic corps, the corporations, and the special forces to name the most important. These contacts formed their own contacts, and for ten months Józef’s cabal grew, slowly and surely, without the Niebswi Party noticing what was right under their noses.
Those ten months had also been spent gathering intelligence, recruiting new followers to a cause already being called Solidarność**, its headquarters in the isolated island city of Pilzno, and planning for a coup that would sweep aside the Old Guard and bring in a new generation of Mezhists. Mezhists who were not afraid to interact with the outside world, and work diligently to take down its enemies, be they close to home like Miroslavl, or on a different continent like Carentania.
It had been ten months… and now things were ready. Preparations weren’t perfect, but the timing wasn’t expected to be this good for a long, long time, so things had to be improvised, and those involved needed to move quickly, in order to take advantage of the gift that had been placed in their laps. Besides, a base plan had already been crafted, tweaked, perfected so it could be enacted in any scenario, including a scenario such as this. It would take one week, and if all went to plan, in seven days Józef would become Premier.
At that thought, he smiled as he leaned away from the typewriter and un-holstered the Walesa PP he carried with him at all times to examine it. The gun was partially for protection, for after all he was an important figure in the Mezhist Union, but partially also as a symbol of that importance. It had been given to him when he turned twenty-two by his father, and despite his strained relationship with the old man, it was a prized possession. Every day from his acquisition of the pistol he practiced with it, be it shooting, cleaning, or disassembling the weapon. He had vowed to become an expert with it, and ten months of nonstop training had certainly produced results. He was an excellent shot, and the pistol was still in prime conditions, even with a few minor modifications Józef had personally added to enhance its performance. He had even used the weapon once, months back, when a communist terrorist from Volga had attempted to take his life. Fortunately, the idiot was not only a terrible shot, but armed with a Miroslavan piece of junk. The General Secretary had taken the assassin down quickly, which not only gave him confidence, but also made his public popularity skyrocket. That had been a good day…
With all that in mind, Józef reluctantly re-holstered his pistol, took out his report from the typewriter and, satisfied with the results, placed the paper in a tray labeled ‘Outgoing’. He then, far more enthusiastically, reached for the phone to make four calls to his top lieutenants in the Solidarność movement spread out over all of Lower Swiecziema, four calls that would change Swiecziema and the Mezhist Union for the better…
OOC:
*Sanation
**Solidarity
OSWIECIM, LOWER SWIECZIEMAN CONFEDERATIVE MEZHIST REPUBLIC
9/3/1952, 3:43 PM
The silence in the room was continuously broken by the rapid-fire clacking of the typewriter, its keys being struck almost seemingly at random, yet were quite deliberate and focused in their rhythm, as the General Secretary typed out his most recent report on the general state of Lower Swiecziema. Steel grey eyes peered through wire-framed spectacles as the typing paused and the General Secretary observed his handiwork with cool neutrality, feeling neither pleasure nor dissatisfaction as he did so. He regarded this task as menial, but necessary, for it was another step towards his true goal. That goal was for Józef Grudzinski, last surviving son of the Steel Hero and Premier Dawid Grudzinski, to become the next Premier of Lower Swiecziema.
He certainly looked the part, when compared to the propaganda posters constantly distributed around Lower Swiecziema. While quite lean in physique, when dressed up in his almost iconic greatcoat he looked far more imposing, helped by his public expression, a mask of grim determination to weather whatever is thrown at him. Emphasized by his short haircut and those steel eyes when not hidden behind his glasses, which he only took out in private or when reading something. And best of all, at least from an aesthetical standpoint, he looked young, fit, and healthy, an example all Swieczieman men should follow.
But that same strength was also his greatest weakness, the one thing that made his ambitions supremely difficult to accomplish: he was young, far too young. At only twenty-five years of age, despite slowly approaching a slightly older twenty-six, the thought of him leading the Lower Swieczieman Confederative Mezhist Republic was preposterous, especially to those already in power. The Veterans, the Steel Heroes, all had been older than he, though not much older, when they overthrew the Imperium and established the Mezhist Union. Now they were quite old, and had grown quite stubborn in the process, narrow-minded, unwilling to believe that their time was over, and they needed to step aside.
The Sanacja* movement needed to continue, they had said and would continue to say. The corruption of the Imperium had run deep, and only they understood how to purge Swiecziema of that corruption, for after all, they were alive during the final years of the Imperium, and remembered how bad it was. Józef had not even been born yet, so he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, how much more work needed to be done.
But the young man disagreed. He didn’t need to understand the past, he just needed to understand the present, and what he could understand was that the Mezhist Union had stagnated, halted its spread of influence, too busy it was on its own internal troubles to much care for the outside world. It committed itself only to the containment of the Soviet Republic of Miroslavl, the Hated Enemy, and completely ignored Mezhism’s Mortal Foe, the Worker’s Republic of Carentania. There was, it was true, a time for Sanacja, but that time was spent, and spent well. Now was a time of action, decisive and aggressive, geared towards the elimination of communism as a threat to the Mezhist Union and the establishment of its unequaled dominance of Sarmatia.
Józef believed all that, and believed he was destined by fate, by God even, to bring about that Golden Age for Swiecziema, to rival and surpass the Golden Age centuries before. But he also knew that, alone, he could do nothing but scream and protest, and be ignored. So, a year ago, he decided instead to stay silent and wait for the opportune moment. It had come two months into that tactic, when his father, Premier Grudzinski, suffered a major heart attack and, although he recovered soon after, was visibly weakened by the affliction. Despite the constant, almost violent disagreements between father and son, the former had appointed the latter to the post of General Secretary of the Niebswi Party, an appointment that had prompted widespread protest among the Premier’s colleagues. But the Premier, for reasons known only to himself, insisted, and Józef soon after took over the duties of the General Secretary.
Said duties were purely administrative, and profoundly boring. Perhaps it was Dawid’s way of acknowledging his son’s ambitions and appeasing them, at the same time sticking him in a position that would allow him to get more experience so that, when Józef was older, he would be truly ready. Józef had no intention of waiting that long, but he had also swallowed his pride and recognized the true benefits of his new position. Not only were they following Dawid’s intentions, they also allowed Józef to acquire contacts. These contacts could be found in the military, the diplomatic corps, the corporations, and the special forces to name the most important. These contacts formed their own contacts, and for ten months Józef’s cabal grew, slowly and surely, without the Niebswi Party noticing what was right under their noses.
Those ten months had also been spent gathering intelligence, recruiting new followers to a cause already being called Solidarność**, its headquarters in the isolated island city of Pilzno, and planning for a coup that would sweep aside the Old Guard and bring in a new generation of Mezhists. Mezhists who were not afraid to interact with the outside world, and work diligently to take down its enemies, be they close to home like Miroslavl, or on a different continent like Carentania.
It had been ten months… and now things were ready. Preparations weren’t perfect, but the timing wasn’t expected to be this good for a long, long time, so things had to be improvised, and those involved needed to move quickly, in order to take advantage of the gift that had been placed in their laps. Besides, a base plan had already been crafted, tweaked, perfected so it could be enacted in any scenario, including a scenario such as this. It would take one week, and if all went to plan, in seven days Józef would become Premier.
At that thought, he smiled as he leaned away from the typewriter and un-holstered the Walesa PP he carried with him at all times to examine it. The gun was partially for protection, for after all he was an important figure in the Mezhist Union, but partially also as a symbol of that importance. It had been given to him when he turned twenty-two by his father, and despite his strained relationship with the old man, it was a prized possession. Every day from his acquisition of the pistol he practiced with it, be it shooting, cleaning, or disassembling the weapon. He had vowed to become an expert with it, and ten months of nonstop training had certainly produced results. He was an excellent shot, and the pistol was still in prime conditions, even with a few minor modifications Józef had personally added to enhance its performance. He had even used the weapon once, months back, when a communist terrorist from Volga had attempted to take his life. Fortunately, the idiot was not only a terrible shot, but armed with a Miroslavan piece of junk. The General Secretary had taken the assassin down quickly, which not only gave him confidence, but also made his public popularity skyrocket. That had been a good day…
With all that in mind, Józef reluctantly re-holstered his pistol, took out his report from the typewriter and, satisfied with the results, placed the paper in a tray labeled ‘Outgoing’. He then, far more enthusiastically, reached for the phone to make four calls to his top lieutenants in the Solidarność movement spread out over all of Lower Swiecziema, four calls that would change Swiecziema and the Mezhist Union for the better…
OOC:
*Sanation
**Solidarity