Generations

[Josepania]

MAIN HALL, PALACE OF THE GOVERNOR
WISLICA, LESSER SARMATIA
12/3/2012, 12:00 AM

Even through the roaring cold of the blizzard raging outside, the lights of the Palace of the Governor shown through like the beacon of a lighthouse in the foggy night, piercing the icy black winds with heat and light. For tonight, despite the hellish cold raging through Lesser Sarmatia, a celebration was going on, one that would not be stopped because of the weather.

The Vice Governor, upon the twelfth striking of the clock, had officially begun his duties. And as son to the Governor of Lesser Sarmatia, Józef Grudzinski was another step closer to what he wanted: the chance to lead Lesser Sarmatia to greatness, a greatness it had not seen for centuries, even millennia. He had dreamed such a dream for some time now, starting as a young child years back during the days of the Grand Republic. Those days had been filled with corruption and harsh apathy to the average Lesser Sarmatian.

But thanks to the monumental efforts of his father, Dawid Grudzinski, the rotten house of the Grand Republic had been knocked over for good by the sword of Mezhism, an ideology originating in the Worker’s Republic of Carentania, for so long restricted to a terrorist organization hell-bent on toppling the Worker’s Republic, it had slowly expanded its scope to all Slavic nations. It was an ideology that championed the idea of the Slavic race being the superior race in all of Europe. And it had resonated most fiercely in the Grand Republic, and had inspired the movement that caused its downfall.

For four years, Governor Dawid, working under the Mezhist-inspired ideology of Sanation had labored to expel all the corruption that had plagued Lesser Sarmatia, and gave the Lesser Sarmatians a reason to be proud of themselves, and of their fellow Slavs. He had secured his new state despite all that was thrown at him, both by remnants of the Grand Republic, and by the rebellious Zarmaj to the south. Sanation stood supreme and proud in Lesser Sarmatia, and would not fade away now.

All of this was good, save for one key fact: Józef had no part in it.

To be more exact, he had no major role to play in the crafting of a new Lesser Sarmatia. He had served in the military during the uprising. He had helped hunt down the Republican forces that continued to resist the unstoppable march of Sanation. He had proven himself as a brave soldier in the war against the Zarmaj. He had served as assistant to numerous offices in the government his father was creating. He had travelled all over his great land and done many things, proving himself time and time again willing and able to take the reins of leadership and guide his fellow Lesser Sarmatians to greatness.

But he was never given that opportunity for one simple reason, a reason only recently said to his face after a particularly vehement argument with his father, but a reason he had known since the beginning: he was too young.

He was, indeed, only just twenty-one years of age, close to being twenty-two but he had argued he had seen, heard, and done more than most twenty-one year olds this day in age… indeed, in most of the history of Europe. But no, he was still too young. No one would take him seriously, not at home, and certainly not in the international world, despite Józef pointing out that, after almost four years, Lesser Sarmatia had not only not involved itself in a single major international issue because of the focus of Sanation on internal affairs, but they still had not been able to tame the Zarmaj, so what was the bigger embarrassment anyway? Governor Dawid did not like that comment, and many others made. Jósef had soon found himself on the verge of being kicked out of the government entirely and shuffled off into the background, never to be seen again.

But fate had intervened. Dawid had suffered from a major heart attack only a month ago, and although his life had been saved and preventive measures taken in surgery, he had come out of the ordeal weaker than ever, sending his closest supporters into a panic. Despite all of Dawid’s efforts, which were probably the primary reason he had suffered the attack in the first place, no method of securing succession in the government had yet been put in place. There was no way to make sure the dream of Sanation did not die with Dawid, but lived on in glory. And so serious discussion of a successor began, candidates proposed and rejected rapid fire. The debates dragged on for days, weeks, until, by the first day of December, only one candidate emerged from the chaos.

He didn’t know who put his name forward, or why, or more importantly, why it had not been dismissed out of hand, but Józef speculated that he was the only one Dawid trusted to take charge despite the argument. Besides, being a designated successor would give him the chance to learn more about the art of politics, economics, the military, and shape him into a true leader. Given eight years, he could become a real leader. Then again, Józef’s admittedly limited sources had also said he was accepted because he was deemed to be pliable by that very same Old Guard. He would be a puppet leader, the public face while Dawid’s advisors, now no doubt sensing blood in the water, would do the ruling in fact.

No matter the reasons, he had been nominated, and accepted, into the new position of Vice Governor, to take effect on the first day of the New Year, and slowly but surely take over Dawid’s old duties as Governor while he recovered. It was a good plan on paper, and would ensure a smooth succession with few ruffled feathers for anyone. But there was one problem: Józef did not intend to play along peacefully. He had just gotten a chance at power, and he was not about to waste that chance just because a group of old men and women, powerful they may be and important to Lesser Sarmatia they were, didn’t want him to rule.

Józef wanted that power, and that was all that mattered. The Old Guard had done their part, and their efforts would always be appreciated. But it was time to move on. It was time to turn the page in the history of Lesser Sarmatia. A new, younger generation had to take charge and propel their nation to heights it had never seen… perhaps eventually to heights no nation had ever seen.

There was much work to be done…

 

[Josepania]

VICE GOVERNOR'S OFFICE, PALACE OF THE GOVERNOR
WISLICA, LESSER SARMATIA
12/4/2012 10:35 A.M.

The damned hangover just wouldn’t go away. Józef was sure he hadn’t drunk that much liquor in the early hours of his first day as Vice Governor, yet all throughout the first day and leading into this one his head threatened to explode in pain, no matter how much aspirin he ingested or how much he tried to avoid loud noises and bright lights. Didn’t help in the slightest he had to start taking over his father’s duties. It didn’t matter the work load he had been given was very light in comparison as the headache only magnified his woes and dulled his pleasures.

Not that his woes needed any magnification. Even in his first day on the job, he had been unable to make much progress with his proposals on how to change the way Lesser Sarmatia had been run. Minor things, in his eyes, but apparently they threatened the very fabric of the system, the way his advisers… more accurately his father’s advisers, had reacted to the ideas. Despite his pleas, despite the debates, they had been tossed aside, and he had instead been put on some projects that, he recognized, were designed to keep Józef out of the way while the oligarchy of advisers used the real power to do the real ruling.

He hated it, but he bit his tongue and accepted it, for now. Józef had no power as of yet, and currently no way to acquire enough in a short amount of time to reverse his fortunes. He was still a newcomer in Lesser Sarmatia’s government, despite his blood-connection to the architect of it all. He was, for all intents and purposes, unproven, unknown, and an unnecessary addition.

He did have some friends though, and the woman who walked through the door now was one of them. Close to his height, with regulation-length black hair, she was a striking young woman, the weather and times in Lesser Sarmatia having much to do with the hard features in her face and the muscles that lined her body. Her coal black eyes had a fire burning behind them, one of ambition and supreme, near divine confidence in herself and her abilities. She had been a childhood friend of Józef, and like him had joined the military as soon as she was able, participating in the Glorious Revolution and proving herself time and time again in battle. While Józef attempted to expand in politics, she had remained focused in the military, exemplifying a true Lesser Sarmatian soldier in the continuing war against the Zarmaj, clawing her way up rank after rank in the four years she was in that organization through will, determination and a few well-placed connections, before finally achieving the rank of Colonel at the unprecedented age of twenty-four.

She was a fierce proponent of Mezhism and was committed to it in body, mind and soul. She was also a fanatical supporter of Lesser Sarmatia, and had often said and shown she was more than willing to die for her nation. She had shown everything she needed to and more, but despite that, because of her age, there was no opportunity for her at this time to finally smash through the ceiling she had just hit and reach the rank of General and beyond. She was too young, she needed more experience, the same tired excuses Józef himself encountered again and again. Small wonder, then, that Anastazya Kowalska was a fierce ally of Józef, and shared his dreams of power.

“What’s the project this time?” She asked, bluntly as always, as she settled into the chair across from Józef and his desk.

The Vice Governor’s initial reply was a pained groan, before he muttered, “Supervising the organization of this year’s census. Absolutely mind numbing, but not numbing enough. My head is still pounding.”

Anastaszya’s harsh bark of laughter only aggravated his headache, “Good heavens, Józef. How much did you drink at that party? Do you remember anything at all?”

Gritting his teeth, Józef shook his head slowly, as though if he shook it too hard the pain would explode forth once more. “Not really… it might be better if I didn’t remember.”

“You don’t even remember what the two of us-“

“Anya, this is a workplace.”

Still, the words sent his imagination into overdrive, the sudden pumping of blood giving his skull a sharp stab of pain. It was true that he and Anastazya, or ‘Anya’ as he called her in private, were in a relationship with one another, but such a relationship had to be off the books, if only temporarily. Things were not secure, his position not guaranteed, before he’d let that go public. Colonel Kowalska disagreed, but was willing to go along with his wishes regardless, for which he was eternally grateful.

“Now, Anya, have you managed to talk with any of your contacts in the military at all?”

An annoyed sigh told it all before she responded, “No. The bastards in their fancy uniforms have me busy doing the same kinds of ridiculous projects as you. They’re scared, the old farts… still, I’m going to try and get in touch with some of the officers by tonight, make sure they get in touch with their contacts, and so on and so forth.”

Józef nodded, “Good. Make sure that-“

“Yes, yes, that it’s all under the table. I’m not stupid, Józef. I know we’re playing a dangerous game here.”

Despite her harsh words, Józef couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps that’s why he liked her, why he stuck with her. She was loyal, no-nonsense and smart without all the fancy talk behind it. Regardless of his personal feelings, she was someone he could trust, and he was certain the same was true with her.

“Very well. Try not to shoot your superiors in the head out of annoyance, please Anya? That would set back plans like nothing else.”

Another aggravated sigh, “Fine, but only because of you. Plus, I’m amused by your attempts to sound like you’re the Governor already.”

Józef’s smile grew wider, despite another pang of pain in his head, and more vicious. “Well, you know me. I’m always thinking of the future…”

 

[Josepania]

GOVERNOR’S ARMORED TRAIN
EN-ROUTE TO OSWIECIM, LESSER SARMATIA
12/5/11 5:20 P.M.

Fortunately, by this time Józef’s enduring headache was gone. Good thing too, considering where he was. The noises of the train he was in now probably would’ve had him faint from the blinding pain, well-stocked supply of painkillers or no. Still, didn’t hurt to be prepared, and there were the dull throbs of what he hoped was a dying headache still lingering in the background.

But his headache was not on his mind, as he looked out the window observing the Lesser Sarmatian countryside slowly pass by, as the train fought its way through the snow covering the tracks. Instead, it was the personal message he held in his hand, more accurately the message on his phone from Anya. Apparently she had, true to her word, gotten in touch with her fellow military contacts last night, and they were reporting back. They too had spread the word, no problems to speak of as of yet. Things were moving along as planned, despite ominous rumblings to the south in Zarmaj, and rumors of something big about to happen on the front.

So far, so good…

Here in the train, Józef was officially going to Oswiecim to further supervise the damned census. Unofficially, it was to separate him from Anya and keep him as far away from the capital as possible, so the Oligarchy of Old Men, as Anya affectionately dubbed them, could take the reins of power more firmly and in peace.

Still, despite these apparent, albeit minor, setbacks, Józef was not alone on the train. Across from him sat a tall, gangly man, who despite looking like he had been stretched to the breaking point both physically and mentally still managed to convey the energy of a man his age: a mere twenty-three years old. Boleslaw Gorski was an assistant diplomat, primarily because of his connections, but also because he was good at what he did. Quiet, yet charming, he had a skill in calming people down and putting forward seemingly reasonable ideas, no matter how unreasonable they actually were.

Still, the same, tired excuse for his low station as assistant diplomat to Greater Sarmatia was the same for Józef and Anya: youth. Damned youth. And inexperience, but by that point Józef’s ears, at least, had shut out the weak arguments. Anya had exploded in anger and almost lost the rank she had. Boleslaw, he smiled, and departed, forcing his own cold anger to remain private, for now.

“Boleslaw, my friend, I wonder what new, wonderful bureaucratic adventures await me in Oswiecim…” Józef wondered out loud, nursing the White Kryobaijani in his hand.

To that, Boleslaw shrugged, “Doubtless there will be many adventures that will keep you occupied while our… superiors…” Despite his pleasant tone, there was a notable hint of poisonous malice behind that word, “Run the nation for us.”

“Indeed… and you? What are you doing in Oswiecim anyway?”

“I am, apparently, to help review records of our relations with Greater Sarmatia. I didn’t quite catch the ‘why’ portion of the orders. I may not have even bothered to ask, the answer would’ve doubtless been nonsensical and pointless.”

“Quite… will you be doing anything else while in that glorious city so far away from Greater Sarmatia?”

Boleslaw gave an amused smile, “Oh, visiting some friends in the diplomatic corps, having discussions with them, the usual things a bored diplomat does when shunted off to the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Józef smiled in reply, knowing full well the meaning behind his flowery words, brief outburst aside. Like Anya, Boleslaw was going to get in touch with his contacts, contacts he had managed to win over with his words like Anya had won over with her actions. The revolution had that personal benefit, at any rate. Getting the military and diplomatic corps on their side would be essential in the upcoming battles that would take place in Lesser Sarmatia. Battles Józef hoped would not be bloody, but if they were… so be it.

“Here’s to cities and nations in the middle of nowhere, then. May they, in their isolation, bring us closer to our friends, public and private.”

Boleslaw, at that, gave a sincere laugh. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Governor.”

As the glasses clinked, Józef smiled. He could get used to that title…

 

[Josepania]

OSWIECIM CAPITOL BUILDING
OSWIECIM, LESSER SARMATIA
12/6/11, 4:10 P.M.

Head in hands, Józef stared at the paper before him, observing the numbers seemingly dance on the sheet, illuminated by the lamp next to him, mocking his inability to in any way find usefulness in what he observed. With a snarl, he lost his patience and threw the paper full of initial census figures away, at the same time lamenting his reluctance to be fascinated with it.

This was, after all, governing at its core, or at least a major part of it. Numbers, figures, paperwork, without all of this a state could not function. Józef knew this, understood this very simple fact. He had, despite his reluctance, despite knowing this was all a ploy by the Oligarchy of Old Men to keep him occupied, threw himself into the task, attempting to figure out just what was so interesting about these figures.

He had failed. Completely.

The figures were nothing but garble to him. Uninteresting, unmanipulative, unable to, in any way, help his mission to seize power for himself and his friends. Worse yet, if he failed at this simple task, the devil only knew how the Oligarchy of Old Men would use that to sink any chance he had at power. After all, if he couldn’t conduct a census, how in the world could he lead a nation?

There was a knock on the door to Józef’s office, and the beleaguered Vice Governor reluctantly invited the knocker in. Inside stepped a somewhat heavyweight man, certainly someone who was more equipped physically to deal with the cold than the leaner Józef was, but the weight did not hinder the man’s movements at all. Every step he took seemed calculated to the most minute of degrees to achieve the maximum amount of distance in the shortest amount of time. A pleasant smile on his face as he surveyed the office, immediately noticing the discarded paper on the floor, Wladyslaw Zielinski gave off an aura of a man who, despite seeing the world in numbers, was not afraid to have fun. Perhaps that’s what made him such a good economist, and what made him one of Józef’s most necessary allies.

“Having trouble, I see…” Wladyslaw remarked as he picked up the census paper.

Józef grunted, “Bad enough I have to deal with a subject I find irritable, but I could still do it if not for the simple fact I’m being forced to do it. The injustice of it all weighs upon my mind, and makes it more difficult to complete the task.”

A few seconds of silence followed, when Wladyslaw boomed with laughter. “Basically, behind all those theatrical bullshit words, you suck at economics.”

Józef refused to respond with nothing more than a glare. Despite Wladyslaw’s knowledge of numbers that far surpassed Józef, the man could be as immature as a teenager at times. Hell, he was twenty-one, a year younger than Józef, and he constantly made the Vice Governor feel old with every joke, every half-insane idea that, on paper, looked like it would never work, yet when it somehow did, Józef would have to put up with weeks of “I told you so” and other forms of nagging.

Still, at least Józef tolerated the shenanigans of Wladyslaw. His professors and fellow economists, on the other hand, completely dismissed his ideas without giving them a chance. They thought, alongside being too young, he was not only complete crackpot that had no business messing with established schools of thought in economics, but also that he deviated from the ideals of Mezhism and Sanation. This was because Wladyslaw ascribed to a ‘School of Practicality’ as he had termed it. Basically, if something worked, both on its own and within an overall system, you used it. It didn’t matter where that idea or method came from, be it fascist, communist, capitalist or something else completely alien.

Such thinking irritated Wladyslaw’s peers, inferior and more importantly superior, and his connections and realization to be silent were the only things that saved Wladyslaw’s current position as an economic aide to the city of Oswiecim. That event had built up much resentment within Wladyslaw, and when he had learned Józef too, and his own comrades, had been planning to show the Oligarchy of Old Men who was truly ready to lead Lesser Sarmatia, Wladyslaw jumped at the chance without a second thought.

“Alright, alright, you want me to help you out with these numbers?”

Sighing Józef nodded. “Please, I need to complete this stupid thing as soon as possible. There are people I need to meet, people far more important than the ones on that piece of paper.”

Wladyslaw raised an eyebrow, “What a fascinating coincidence. I need to meet some people too. People who are willing to listen to my ideas, like you. Unlike you, they are a bit more enthusiastic about them too.”

Rolling his eyes, Józef responded, “That’s because I’m honest about my skepticism, unlike your newest followers you wowed with fancy tricks on the first day.”

Chuckling, Wladyslaw moved next to Józef at the desk, “I prefer the term ‘methods’ over ‘tricks’. My school is a very practical one, hence its name.”

“Still doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“That, my friend, is because you are incompetent in this one area of government, a fact I will never let you live down.” A harsher glare from Józef caused Wladyslaw to laugh, “Alright, alright. No more needling you for now. Let’s get down to business. Now, you know how you have a way with words, how you know the formulas and can twist them to match your needs? Well, all you have to do is apply the same logic to that of numbers. Numbers, in essence, are a different kind of word, though they can follow the same formula if you know how the old formulas work. Like here for instance-“

As Wladyslaw trailed on and on, Józef knowing full well he’d completely forget all he was attempting to learn now, the Vice Governor smiled. Despite his many, many faults, Józef was truly lucky to have Wladyslaw as a partner. Control of the economy and the corporations was essential, if Józef’s planned coup had any chance at success.

And it would succeed. The Vice Governor would make sure of that…

 

[Josepania]

VICE GOVERNOR'S APARTMENT
OSWIECIM, LESSER SARMATIA
12/7/11, 5:11 A.M.

Sunlight struggled to peek through the heavy, drawn curtains as dawn broke, but the mass that had buried itself underneath five layers of blankets would not be woken by its feeble probings. That being, after all, had spent much of the evening into the technical early hours of today to finish the census report due by the time he got back to Wislica on the 9th, after his friend Wladyslaw had to depart early to meet with his economic colleagues. It didn't have to be done by today, but Vice Governor Józef did not want distractions today or tomorrow, and was more interested in finishing the paperwork as soon as possible so he could meet his contacts with no obstacles nagging at him. The figures might've been more projections than actual facts, slightly inaccurate facts at that due to his poor grasp of mathematics, but Józef didn't care. He didn't have any intention of playing nice with the men who sent him on this useless mission anyway. It was an annoying distraction, nothing more. He had bigger, better plans.

But, because he felt he had sacrificed so much to complete it as quickly as possible, Józef figured he deserved a few extra hours of shut-eye, hence why he had barricaded himself under the covers to shield himself from dawn's siege.

But the dawn had more, albeit unintentional, weapons than just light. That manifested in his cell phone, which began ringing the national anthem of Lesser Sarmatia, a powerful piece that normally made Józef swell with pride. Currently, it instead prompted a sleepy, agonized groan underneath the walls of fabric that, powerful enough to deflect sunlight, could not shut out the noise that penetrated Józef's ears and rudely dragged him out of a relatively pleasant dream involving his plans and some private time with Anya.

Initially, Józef refused to respond to the phone, hoping that whoever called would leave a voice message and let him get back to much needed sleep. But then, soon after it stopped ringing, the now annoyingly patriotic noise began again. Clearly, whoever it was ringing him at this ungodly hour would not respect the Vice Governor's wishes. Muttering vile curses, Józef emerged from under his fortress of quilts and blankets, looking very unlike a leader as he groped semi-blindly for the noisemaker, before he finally grasped it on the tail end of the fifth ring and hit the receive button without looking at the caller ID.

"This better be good..." he grumbled into the phone, growing puzzled as silence remained his only response before he looked at the screen through sleepy eyes.

Missed call.

Son of a bitch.

With a growl, he began to put the phone back on the nightstand and try to get back to sleep, when the damned thing began ringing again. Józef's patience now at the breaking point, he snatched at the phone and brought it to his ear.

"You better have a damned good reason calling me, whoever the fuck you are..."

The voice at the other end responded with artificial contriteness. "My apologies, Vice Governor, but I absolutely must speak with you. I have urgent news that cannot wait."

It took a few seconds for Józef's slowly awakening brain to recognize who it was on the other end. His contact in the intelligence services of Lesser Sarmatia, and perhaps one of his most important, Kazimierz Nowak. Józef had not yet been able to see the man face to face, and in fact had not been the one to find him. Rather, Kazimierz had found the Vice Governor. The first call was a major shock, and a very humbling moment, when Kazimierz had first contacted Józef and informed him the agent had been watching the Vice Governor and his slowly growing cabal of conspirators. In fact, Kazimierz had admitted that he was assigned to watch Józef and the group, which nearly gave the Vice Governor a heart attack to rival his father's.

Growing panic turned into slowly more relieved confusion when Kazimierz then explained that he was sympathetic to Józef and his goals, and would therefore offer his services in making sure those plans were achieved. The why was vaguely explained, and Józef was convinced that the true reasons were being deliberately withheld. At this point, however, he didn't care. He had unwittingly gained a valuable ally who not only promised to get in touch with his own contacts, but also feed misinformation to the Oligarchy of Old Men™ (Kazimierz was very amused by Anya's term, and had very willingly begun to use it himself), thus giving Józef and his companions far more breathing room.

Today was when Józef and Kazimierz were supposed to finally meet face to face, a meeting Józef insisted upon and which Kazimierz reluctantly agreed to. This was why Józef muttered, "Kazimierz? What the hell are you talking about?"

"As said, it cannot wait. Do you want good news or bad news first?"

Warning bells began going off in Józef's head, speeding up the process of his awakening. "I'll probably just hang up if I get bad news first... so give me the good news."

A chuckle preceeded Kazimierz' response. "Very well. I've gotten in touch with most of my contacts, like I promised, and they're spreading the word to their trusted associates, with explicit instructions to keep the process going as far as possible of course. It's all currently under the radar. The Oligarchy of Old Men™ have no idea what's truly happening, so our plans can continue to proceed on that note unabated."

Sighing with impatience, Józef grumbled, "Yes yes, that's all well and good, but you could've told me that at the meeting today."

"Indeed... alas, the bad news. Our meeting will have to be cancelled today. The Zarmaj State has just launched an unexpected offensive and my agency needs all hands on deck. I'll be flying to Wislica in about fifteen minutes or so."

Anger built up in Józef as his brain slowly digested the news one word at a time. "Goddammit Kazimierz, you were the primary reason I agreed to come out here in the first place and-wait... what did you say?"

"I'm flying to Wis-"

"No, no, before that. Something about Zarmaj."

"Ah, yes, the Zarmaj have launched an offensive. Things are pretty chaotic, but from what I can tell, the situation is very bad and growing worse."

It was partly Kazimierz' nonchalant tone to the delivery of such a bombshell, as well as how inconceivable these news were. "But... that can't be. The Zarmaj have never-"

"Well they have now, Vice Governor." Kazimierz interrupted, his tone immediately shifting to stone cold professionalism. "And like you, the higher-ups are in a state of panic and denial. I can only hope they snap out of it as quickly as you undoubtedly will, or our beloved capital will be in serious trouble..."

Perhaps it was the shift in tone, or the fact that the news had completely woken the Vice Governor, but Józef indeed accepted, albeit reluctantly, the reality Kazimierz had presented him. "Alright... I'll be heading back to Wislica myself. My other contacts in Oswiecim can wait."

"You expect to be able to do something about the current situation?"

Józef hesitated, then fired back, "Do you?"

Silence, then Kazimierz laughed. "A sound point, Vice Governor. I suppose all we can do at this point is try, and hope for the best. I'll contact you later once things calm down... I wonder how this will affect our plans..."

His jaw grimly set, Józef said, "It won't. All else fails, we will improvise."

"Very good. I continue to see why I chose to work with you rather than against you... best of luck, Vice Governor. To you and to us all."

The call ended, and Józef continued to lay in bed, still as the furniture around him, still trying to completely absorb what he had just learned, before throwing off the covers and rushing to the wardrobe.

No more disbelief. He had to move. Not just for his own sake, but now for Lesser Sarmatia.

He was going back to Wislica, for better or for worse...

 

[Josepania]

INTELLIGENCE WING, PALACE OF THE GOVERNOR
WISLICA, LESSER SARMATIA
1/17/12, 6:21 P.M.

With a heavy sigh, the man put down his glasses and rubbed his eyes, a futile attempt to ward off the headache that was forming around those same windows to the world. There was a simple reason for the pain, and it was the glowing monitor in front of the Sarmatian, which was currently displaying a list of some kind he barely cared about, but was forced to nonetheless because it was his job. It did not help that the lighting in the room was poor at best, and wrapped him in shadows, obscuring his features and surroundings. It was theorized by him and his co-workers that it was not only to bolster the self-identification of mysterious men and women in shadows, working tirelessly to keep Lesser Sarmatia safe and her enemies not, but also to hide their bosses, so they could sneak up without warning and make sure their agents were not goofing off.

Personally, Kazimierz Nowak thought it was a useless theatrical trick and, thus, a waste of time.

Besides, he didn't need his eyes to make sure he was not being watched by one of his bosses. He could hear their footsteps on the hardwood floor, and sense their presence if they were close enough, making the lighting situation even more useless, as that was what they initially trained Kazimierz for: to be a field agent. The best of the best, the Sarmatian Secret Service. Kazimierz had been selected from a group of recruits about seven years ago now, and put through a training that made hell seem like a vacation in the Green Sea. He had excelled in the physical exercises, impressed the analysts in the psychological exams, and all around proved himself to be an agent of great potential. Trainers called him brilliant, the standard all agents be they field or analyst should strive for. Kazimierz was, in short, on top of the world.

He then committed a fatal mistake of letting it get to his head.

Kazimierz had felt invincible, unstoppable, a god of intelligence, and he jumped at a chance four years ago to prove his perceived divine skills on the field. He had been tasked with leading a strike team of agents into the rebellious Zarmaj State to eliminate their leadership, in an attempt to end the war for the Sarmatian state, now led by Dawid Grudzinski and Sanation, a group the intelligence community had whole-heartedly supported and deserted their dying Grand Republic for. Were he successful in the mission, Kazimierz expected to be propelled to the top in less than a decade, no, less than half a decade, become head of the Sarmatian Secret Service before he turned 30, an unprecedented age to suit a brilliant agent.

His request was accepted, and his team of thirteen agents including himself were inserted into Arcodowsz, the Zarmaj capital.

He was the only one to make it back to Lesser Sarmatia partially intact, leaving behind an eye and his 12 comrades, with news of failure.

It was an intelligence disaster. Twelve brilliant men and women lost to Sarmatia, and their rising star disgraced on his first mission like a rookie. Worse, according to Kazimierz' report, three agents were still probably alive, which presented an unbelievable risk to Sarmatian intelligence, and potentially cost the success of future offensives that could not be altered. Those agents had been neutralized later, but the damage done to Sarmatian intelligence capabilities was still unknown, and thus a major blow. Kazimierz barely escaped with his life in the subsequent tribunal, as charges of treason were read and barely slapped down. The only reason he kept his job was because Governor himself believed Kazimierz to still possess great potential. So, the star agent was given a desk job as an analyst, with uncertainty surrounding his future.

It had been a humiliating, humbling experience, and Kazimierz never forgot it.

For four years, he analyzed the mission, saw his numerous mistakes, and figured out how to correct them. He began mentally disciplining himself, to control that pride of his, and even now he still struggled at times, but he was far superior to his hotheaded, rookie self four years ago. And he never forgot those in power who tried him, who had almost put him to death. It didn't matter how justified they were in their seeking of punishment for his failures. To call Kazimierz Nowak a traitor to Lesser Sarmatia, even now as a disciplined agent of the Sarmatian Secret Service, was an unforgivable crime they would have to pay for.

So while he disciplined himself and corrected his mistakes, he had also plotted revenge against those who had wronged him, using those four years to perfect his plans, make allies, and cripple enemies for the final blows they would eventually experience. Small things that didn't mean much at the time, but over the long term, accumulated, grew, into a master stroke that would shame his superiors and prove once and for all that Kazimierz, a man twenty-five years old, was the best.

There was one person Kazimierz never forgot, however: the Governor. It was he who was most responsible for Kazimierz living and, better, keeping his job. It had conflicted the disgraced spy for years, for in order to make sure that once he acquired power he would stay there, he had to get rid of the Governor, but how could he plot the downfall of the man who had saved his life? But then came the answer, ironically given to him by the superiors who had wrongfully accused him of treason: Dawid's son. He too was plotting against the Governor, and thus, if assisted, would be the one to deal with the Sarmatian leader, not Kazimierz. It was perfect, he would be absolved of all blame no matter what happened. It also helped that Jozef Grudzinski was opposed to Kazimierz' superiors, and wanted them out one way or another.

Their goals aligned, Kazimierz contacted Jozef, and set up a partnership he would act upon once more, now, in front of this screen... in a way, this offensive by the Zarmaj had proven most beneficial. Despite the danger of the capital being overrun, and the military and prestige of Lesser Sarmatia damaged, the flood of recruits to the cause of Jozef and Kazimierz had made the planning so much easier, not to mention the complete inability of Kazimierz' superiors to realize what was going on right under their own noses.

It was thus, with a vicious smile, that Kazimierz sent off an email to an associate, who would do the same, and so on until all parties had received the message, and the target would be... taken care of. Another email would be sent later, which would circulate amongst Kazimierz' coworkers and secure an upcoming promotion, brought about by that previously mentioned target's elimination.

Then... things would get easier, and thus, interesting.

 

[Josepania]

CEO HEADQUARTERS OF LOZSGAZ
STRADÓW, LESSER SARMATIA
1/21/12, 11:19 P.M.

Letting out a drawn-out yawn, Wladyslaw Zielinski stretched out, feeling and hearing his spine realign one bone at a time, eventually giving a satisfied groan as he sank back into the comfy executive chair. His mission to achieve comfort a success, Wladyslaw observed the view out the window once more, enjoying the lights of Stradów twinkling in the dusk that settled over Lesser Sarmatia. Had there been daylight, he would've been able to make out the coast not too far away, with its bitter cold waters that Sarmatians nevertheless endured in the name of fun. Hell, Wladyslaw did it himself, perhaps out of national masochism more than anything else, but he figured the blubber his body fat essentially contained would allow him to stay longer in the water than other, thinner people. Yet those same people just called him insane. Either reason was entirely plausible, he thought to himself with a chortle.

An insane fat man he may have been, but he was a clever one, if the result of the meeting that had lasted for the past couple of days was any indication. After his meeting with Józef in Oswiecim, Wladyslaw had met up with the rest of his contacts, who were not only instructed to spread the word of Józef and his ideas, but also to secure for Wladyslaw a meeting with a certain powerful man, the CEO who resided in this building, the capital of the largest energy corporation in Lesser Sarmatia, LozsGaz. It was here Wladyslaw hoped to make his master stroke, his effort that would cement the power of the economy behind his cause and, thus, Józef's cause.

To be fair, he was entering with a significant advantage. LozsGaz had not prospered during the war, either during the time of the Grand Republic or the era of Sanation. The former forced LozsGaz to endure the loss of two very profitable oil rigs to the Zarmaj, despite the efforts of the Sarmatian navy to reclaim them without harm, and the latter had reformed much of the corruption the Grand Republic and oil corporation shared, thus further drying up profits. But a few days into the meeting, wonderful news arrived: the Zarmaj were returning the rigs to LozsGaz, and would compensate the corporation for its losses based on those rigs. Even better, a message appeared from Wislica, advising the corporation to not reenter business with Zarmaj, as the Zarmaj themselves had feared. Consequences were implied if LozsGaz failed to comply.

Naturally, as a true economic genius, Wladyslaw pounced, pointing out how ridiculous it was not to do business with a country that wanted to repair burnt bridges. You did not turn down willing customers with pockets full of cash. And Sanation was being completely unreasonable with its demands. They had no idea how to handle corporate giants like LozsGaz. Now... if Józef was in charge, he would encourage business not just with the Zarmaj, but with any state willing to pay, so long as it benefitted the state, which in this case it most assuredly would. And just to prove that luck came in threes, the Magyar-Turkic state of Boliatur to the south announced the welcoming of foreign investment in the creation of pipelines, which promised even more untapped oil flowing into the hands of those willing to invest. Wislica proved once again unwilling to intervene because of their focus on mismanaging the war, as well as the fact that Boliatur was not Slavic. Racism that people like Wladyslaw shared, to be fair, but only up to the point that it did not harm the state. The state came first.

Thus, Wladyslaw advised LozsGaz to once again ignore Wislica and enter negotiations with Boliatur, which ended quite successfully, thus ensuring the corporation the promise of major profits. After that, it was a piece of cake to convince the CEO to make another investment, this one closer to home. Specifically, to the campaign of Józef and his comrades, as well as to spread the word amongst fellow companies, rivals or no, to do the same. After all this new generation was willing to think about the corporation, and help the corporation, so long as it helped the state. And all Sarmatians wanted to help the state, so what was not to like?

Long story short, Wladyslaw was supremely successful, and he reported as such to Józef's office in Wislica, despite information that correspondance with the Vice Governor would be restricted for 'state security' reasons. Naturally, Wladyslaw ignored that and sent the information anyway, confident in the abilities of that creepy spy, Kazimierz, to make sure the information got to the Vice Governor safely and unmolested. Regardless, he had to get to bed. He had another long day tomorrow, for he was supposed to supervise the convincing of more CEOs to the cause of Józef Grudzinski. It didn't matter that such support was next to guaranteed already, due to the influence of LozsGaz and the bumbling of Sanation, protocol demanded Wladyslaw take part to make sure the deals went through. That's apparently how things worked in the corporate world.

Besides, he was getting used to this corporate environment...