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le grandi cose ii

Radilo

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Pałaso Dandolo, Sestiere di San Poło, la Città del Radila
5:15 PM, December 18, 2023

Despotess Eudoxia was excited, as was her husband Senator Emilio Dandolo. She was seven months pregnant with a girl, and while the couple had been tempted to pick a scandalously nerdy pop culture reference for a name, they settled on Zilia, the name of the last Eberian Princess of Nuoria (the old title of the heir apparent) from la Casa de Dandalo; a succession crisis and war in the 18th century resulted in the Dandolo's dispossession of the crown. Though, the Ebrian emblem is still incorporated prominently into their coat of arms. In fact, the child in her womb still, technically, could put a claim to the Throne of Hercules. She was sitting in the shaded section of their Pałaso's magnificently appointed courtyard, surrounded by delicate floral arrangements and replicas of statues by Donatello and Michaelangelo (the real ones were dedicated to museums, save a few lesser known pieces that adorned the interior), at a small table sipping on some mint tea, enjoying the cool weather.

"How you holding up Padme?" her husband said walking onto the courtyard.

"Depends on how much time you've been spending with Palpatine, Anakin."

"His Magesty, Giuseppe Davide VII, has valid concerns about the Tianese intervention. I share his concerns, though not necessarily his conclusions. But L'Imperatore is nothing if not vocal in his opinions," he responded.

"Have you spoken with your father?" She asked somewhat nervously.

His expression turned dour, "yes, the harassment has increased. He doesn't have it in his power to determine if they are state sponsored, but there was a noticeable uptick after your brother announced he was taking the cloth."

"As queer men throughout history always have," she sighed, "how bad has the harassment gotten?"

"He's got both the Camorra and the La Gendarmeria Civica involved. And they've contacted the Servizio Segreto..." he sighed, somewhat dejected. "These are fucking servile maids, waitresses, and small time reporters writing for a small queer periodical... what the fuck is their problem...?"

"You've heard me vent about their inhumanity. Journalists disappeared, the very existence of black sites for dissenters... wanton cruely... the veneer of democracy wears thin from the threat of a gay man... existing. The land of Alexander the Conqueror, the successor of Tiberious... gayer than Liberace... twenty-seven centuries... from the bronze age to seeing a man walk on the moon... and my Family's empire is afraid that the first born son is gay..." She felt the baby kick; she paused and giggled a bit. "Zilia doesn't want me getting so worked up," she said, smiling.

"My dad said that M is open to letting the Camorra open up the Black Book."

"A war might be about to start, is that wise?"

"No, but M thinks a bluff might be warranted. But if the Camorra gets a peek into that... dozens... hundreds will die. Some deservingly, ture, but no one is used to...that sort of inhumanity. They will kill a hundred people before the authorities even put together what's going on."

"Why would M risk that?"

"He's being hounded by the Camorra. Their kin has endured some... brutal treatment at the hands of your father's "justice" system. And now that my father's domestic help is catching heat... whether that is just from random assholes or something concerted doesn't matter. Maybe when we go there for the New Year's Feast we can talk to them."

"I don't know how receptive they will be."

...

It's M, again. Sorry for interrupting.

One thing you should know about the Secret Service is that we only selectively share the information we gather with our... associates in organized crime. We keep, for every nation state, a Black Book containing all of the relevant information regarding low level criminals, informants, police officers, prison guards--and their families. It's gotten a lot easier now with social media, but old fashioned hacking and snooping do confirm what we already--somewhat--know. You see, the Camorra isn't ever interested in the higher ups, it's the grunts on their level that they are interested in. Knowing the school schedule of the daughter of the prison guard who tortured your own daughter is much more useful for a Camorra clan boss than any information about the interior minister.

Such information is included in a prospective nation's Black Book. And low level prison guards and cops don't have security details.

Information on high level officials is kept in something called a Red Book, if you were curious.



@Ebria
@Pelasgia
 
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Radilo

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Things take time; there is no sound way to rush headfirst into challenging scenarios. While sometimes urgency dictates actions, true, expediency cannot come at the cost of everything else. That is something that those in the far east and the far west seem to miss... rarely is this game diffusing a bomb... in fact, most often whether the bomb explodes or not is out of our power entierly. Rather, it is only in our power to prepare for and manage the fall out. Ebria had morphed, with suprising speed, into a powder keg, to torture the metaphor further. The question was not whether it would explode, but rather how to minimize and mitigate such an explosion. No one state has the power to dictate the movements of another state--only influene them. Even a few weeks into this brewing crisis commentators have framed this crisis, not erroneously, as one having three factions: a rouge far-right group within the military, an agitated left, and a fragile centre-right government. Each one of these would need to be spoken to, but they could not all be adressed at once, or by the same person. Speeches, by themselves, do not often have the power to alter events, but they can send signals. They can be used to communicate in ways that may cause others to reevaluate or contemplate, at least, their course of action.

Discorso all'Accademia Navale, Sala dei Marines
Adress to the Naval Academy, Hall of the Marines, Nouvo Porto
February 19, four days after the Ebrian 3rd Army's Pronunciamiento

Admiral Jane Oslo, the Superintendent General of the Radilan Navy, was adressing the annual banquet celebrating the founding of the la Fanteria Marina--the Marine Infantry--which is shortened to i Marines. Founded in the 13th century by Doge Enrico Dandolo to fight in the Great Himyari Crusade, this force serves as the core component of Radilo's military on land. Though they were, of course, not land based; nothing in Radilo is.

Oslo's dais was in front of a massive fresco of the Dandolo coat of arms, which was the same as that of Ebria, with only the central inescutcheon being modified. Instead of the Fleur-de-lis and Medici emblem of the current dynasty in the center, . The Dandolos had been the ruling dynasty in Ebria for three centuries before losing power during the War of Ebrian Succession in the ealry 18th century.

After an introduction by the Commendant of the Marines, the Superintendent General adressed the gathered soilders. This is the part of her speech that got the most international coverage.

"The times we live in can challenging, stressful, and draining. To everyone, but espically to those who serve. We are fortunate in one way as opposed to the civilians we are charged wtih defending: we have some medium of agency. And true, it is more of a perception of agency than actual discretion, but we know at least if there is to be violence, then we are prepared and equiped. Sometimes, however, if we truly wish to express our own agency--we must forfeit our arms.

I will stop being vague now. If I had such a disagreement with the government as the leadership of the Ebrian 3rd Army does, I would resign my commission. I would do publically, and, now no longer a military officer, I would express my grievances with fervor that any patriotic citizen would be free to express. I would not violate my oath. I would not disregard the chain-of-command, one in which a civilian is rightfully on top of. I would not threaten the democracy that gives the military legitimacy--democracy that brings about prosperity--democracy that enables human dignity--over such temporary and trifling causes."

*applause*

Adress to the Quarterly Meeting of the Radilan Communist Party
Ballroom of the Megálos Mesimvrinós (Grand Meridian) Hotel, Antiochia
February 20, four days after the Reds application to the International Workers Federation was denied

The background behind the dias that Foreign Minister August Barnapola was speaking from also had a particular history. It was an replica of a famous painting of Christ called "The Sacred Heart of Jesus of the Martyrs" depecting Christ with the scares of his Passion visible, draped in a red cloak with the rays emenating from his head and exposed heart. It was famous for Jesus's complicated and pained facial expression, which is often described as shifting from empathy to rage. The story behind the image was that the painter wanted to capture the moment when Jesus went from focusing on Santa Fe (Saint Faith), the 3rd century child martyr, to those who had tortured her to death. The original fresco is located in her eponymous church in Valls. To many in the international left, such overtly religious iconography might seem out of place, but in Radilo, or its former colonies like Joséphina, it was common. In fact, Jesus was often held up as the ur-communist philosopher, as well as being the Son of God and Man.

"By now all of you know that our application for membership in the International Workers Federation has been rejected. *audiance groans* No, no... it is understandable... *audiance chuckles* we Radilans afterall are too capitalist, unless your a right wing nation... then we're too communist. *audiance laughs* We are too libertine, and too Catholic. We are colonial war mongers, and cowards. We are everthing and its opposite. *applause*

If I could take a moment to be serious though, the ongoing general strike in Ebria is something we support, obviously. It is the right of workers to take action in causes that they have a collective interest in. However, we emphasise to those workers that they have a legitimate process ahead of them. They live in a democracy, so when the time comes thier best course of action is to express themselves via plebiscite. And this is where the real frustrating work begins. Whether the King calls an early election or they must wait for a scheduled one, they will need to convice a majority of thier countrymen the virtue of their cause.

Workers of Ebria, I petition you, remember this: you must work to build up your coaliation. You must bring in to your movement as many of your fellow citizens as possible. This is the heavy lifting; striking is hard, I do not mean to understate it, but it is something of which you have agency. Convincing others, however, requires talents that offer no guarantee of success. If this strike looses its purpose, then other actions must be taken.

Workers of Europe unite!"

*applause*

Sala di Mazor Consegio
Hall of the Great Council, Doge's Palace, Nouvo Porto
February 22

Both Chambers of the Senate were assembled in the Great Hall, ready for the Prime Minister's speech.

The sergeant-at-arms rapped his batton three times on the marble clad floor; at this the assembled senators stood up. In walked the cabinet, Doge, and Patriarch, each taking thier seat on the dias, with His Serenety in pride-of-place. Above them was the more than 20 meter wide painting called Il Paradiso by Tintoretto, depecting heaven. Two Palace Guards placed an ebony rodd in front of the speakers podium. This symbolized the power of the Captain General, who was still hovering in one of the chamber's wings. Three more raps of the batton and that peasent girl from the Dalmations stepped out before the assembled Senators. Dressed in her signature frumpy blue pantsuit, she approached the podium.

"Citizens of the republic, we are presently confronted by a grave situation which may very well undermine the stability of our economic union. Democracy itself is on the line within the warm waters of the Meridian Sea. In our quest to expand human liberty, we are confronted by delays in @Pelasgia and a brewing crisis in @Ebria . I fear that... we may be called upon to support the legitimate, democratically elected government there. But I am comforted by our republic's resolve. We will not abandon our friend. It is true that some have criticized us for our cautious responce to the crisis in @Angliarique , but caution then was warrented. We do not have the luxury of rushing head first into contflict. We don't have that luxury now. But we will not be rushing into anthing with this security guarantee. We will instead be adressing this situation with eyes wide open.

Democracy needs to be defended, so we will defend it. Human dignity needs to be defended, so we will defend it. We have the capacity to do so. We will defend human rights and democracy to the ends of the world.

God save humanity and God save our republic!"

*Applause*

(Ooc: sorry for the late post, but this should work.)
 
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Radilo

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Sala di Mazor Consegio
Hall of the Great Council, Doge's Palace, Nouvo Porto
February 25

Don Enrico Dandolo II, a hereditary Senator whose family dates back to the founding of the Republic, stepped up to the podium. Around his neck was the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece, an aincent symbol of the monarchs of Ebria. His ancestors had taken it after ther flight out of Ebria following their loss in the war of Ebrian Succession in the early 18th century. His family had led that country through its golden age, when the Ebrian empire spanned the known world, where the Holy League--Ebria and her allies--controled the Meridian. That this coincided with Radilo's own rise to power, notwithstanding.

His speech was delivered in Ebrian, fluent Ebrian.

"To the people of Ebria, today we witness the start of a horrible crisis. I have been chosen to deliver this message to you by the Radilan Republic because I can speak to you, frankly in our native tounge. I will be honest, the next next few weeks and months will try men's--and women's--souls. You must fight off those who would opress you. That is not an easy task. The heir to the Throne of your country is less relevant than the legitimacy of the government that they will lead. The Most Serene Republic will aid your legitimate, democratically elected government in its attempts to stave off insurrectionists. Democracy I'd the only legitimate method of government, be it expressed theough a constitutional monarchy or a republic. I have been told, by the Captain General, our duly elected Prime Minister, that we are now ferrying aid and support to your shores, to help you in this fight ahead. God speed! And viva la democracia!

As he was speaking, 20k Marines were abord amphibious landing vessels in Bonaventura Bay, accompanied by suffecent Naval firepower, making their way towards Valls. With 20k more ready, standing by.
 

Radilo

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Top Secret
To the Meridian Expeditionary Forece
From the Radilan Naval High Command


After consultation with the Ebrian Legitimist Command, flagged military hardware and Marines are to remain in Radilo's waters for the time being. With the exception of vessels that will ferry weapons and supplies to Legitimist held territories. Sailors, Marines, and their vessels shall remain on high alert and be prepared for a full deployment at any time.

God save democracy!

Signed,
Superintendent General Jane Oslo

@Ebria
 

Radilo

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Chamber of the Great Council, Doge’s Palace, Radila
Two weeks ago, 9:00 PM | 21:00

The 500 members of the la Camera degili Eletti (the Chamber of the Elected) and the 207 members of la Camera die Prescelti (the Chamber of the Selected—the representatives of the 207 official Patrician families who were counted among the Radilan Aristocracy) were assembled in the chamber of the Great Council, a magnificent room decorated floor to ceiling with Renaissance and Baroque art. At the front of this great hall there was an elevated dais, containing the Doge’s throne and seats for their cabinet. Above them hung the largest canvas painting in the world, Il Paradiso, by Tintoretto, depicting Christ and the Mother of God in heaven after the Last Judgement. It was a fitting allegory.

“The Senate and people of the Most Serene Republic, rise for His Serenity Doge Clemente III, his War Cabinet, and the Captain General,” a voice boomed out from one of the elaborately dressed Ducal Guards who was standing beside an entry way near the dais. All those assembled rose up as the elaborately dressed Doge walked into the hall from an antechamber followed by the members of Radilo’s war cabinet. Each of them took their place in front of their respective seats as they filed in. The last one to enter the chamber was Captain General, or Prime Minister, Isabella Lacé; she was holding onto an ebony baton about one meter in length—this symbolized her powers as a military leader. As the others took their places beside the Doge’s throne, she set the rod down on a small mantel beside the speaker’s podium. “Be seated,” the Doge said, as he and his cabinet, save Lacé, took their seats.

Izzy took a moment to look into the camera lens at the back of the great hall, focused now on her. Her mind was racing, and she began to feel detached from herself. Her mind raced at a million miles a second…

… 30 denari—that was how much it cost to buy a six pack of sun wine in 1975. It was also the equivalent of a day’s wages for a child farm laborer in that same year, the last year she ever worked on a farm before going to university. Izzy knew that well. For 8 hours of exhausting manual labor, she was compensated 30 denari. That’s why her and her siblings preferred to make it themselves. 30 denari: 0,3 lira (or Euromarks): 0,003 Ducati. Three one-thousandths of a Ducati—for eight backbreaking hours of work as a child. That averaged 0,000375 Ducati per hour…

…It was her first case as a full partner at the law firm, and she was the lead barrister; it was 1989. Not yet thirty and already rather frumpy, having born five children, she did not strike anyone as a particularly threatening figure, at her 4’11’’ (in freedom units) stature. This was not some glorious case meant to further the rights of citizenry—no, it was a dispute between two aristocratic families about whether a multi-billion Euromark contract had been adequately fulfilled, one of the largest such disputes in the history of the Republic. The particulars of the arguments did not much resonate in her memory, rather it was the intensity of the oral arguments. Izzy felt as if she had reached some higher plain of existence during them. Who she was changed; how she felt changed; she was something else. Her cold, steely demeanor and sharp understanding and wit seemed to even intimidate the Grand Magistrate presiding over the affair. By the end of the trial the verdict was not really in doubt, and a new nickname emerged for the young peasant girl from the island of Cattaro: la Donna di Ferro, or, the Iron Woman.

After the necessary celebrations among her colleagues, after the trial, she took a well-deserved week off. Upon returning, she found an envelope on her desk—she knew what it was. It was the bank receipt for her bonus; she had gotten those before. She assumed it was going to be a pretty decent penny for her approximately 120 hours (including 10 hours of court time) work towards the case. She opened the envelope, and one bolded number rendered her numb.


16.700

Sixteen thousand seven hundred…

Ducati

More than a million and a half Euromarks; or more than four million Euromarks in today’s money… for 120 hours of work. It was her share of the profits made from the case, about 140 Ducati per hour… or 370.000 times what she made an hour only 14 years prior.

She started trembling holding the bank receipt; her life had changed. It was not just the sudden influx of money that would be enough to lift her whole family out of poverty, though that was its own rush… no, it was the feeling of power. True, she shared it, but she was at its helm. She was powerful. She was in charge. She could bend the whims of ancient aristocratic families. It gave her a high she did not think possible. This is when she started to tinker with the idea of running for office.

Over the course of her political career, she grew increasingly addicted to that high. Her first election to the Senate—one that flipped Cattaro to Blue from Red for the first time in a century. Her family and her village, all formerly lifelong Red voters, turned out in droves to campaign for her and swept her to victory. Here she was, the ultimate success story of liberal democracy. A ragged peasant girl transformed into a powerhouse lawyer, courtesy of the Most Serene Republic’s education and welfare systems. She won a seat in the Senate. Then she started moving up the ranks within the Blue party. Caucus Chair, Deputy Whip, Whip, and finally Chairdwoman.

Each bit of progression flooded her brain with endorphins, save the sweet agony of childbirth, this was the most alive she ever felt. Then there was the election in 2010: she became the Prime Minister, Captain General… Izzy Lacé, the peasant girl from the Village of Rhizon, the first woman to lead the Most Serene Republic. Repeat in 2013; 2016; 2019; 2022. Five elections won, now commanding a supermajority in the Elected Chamber… she was in charge. She could bend the will of the Republic to her's… and that’s when the liberalism caught up to her. Her domestic reforms were in the same good-governance spirit that she always had shown—that being effective is generally unobtrusive. Her foreign policy—the successes:
the Meridian Union, the Mistakes: the dissolution of CETO would prove a part of her legacy. The war… however… the war would truly define her—just as it had the Republic. The decision to build up the Navy and start mandatory service in the militia was controversial, if, in hindsight, prudent. But all of the preparation in the world did not matter much when it came to fighting off an Empire. Radilans are famously, or infamously, not fighters, but merchants. True, the Most Serene Republic has in the past, and still does, control vast reaches of the world’s ocean—and it has for millennia done so by force…

…was she a failure… it didn’t matter. Peace was achieved.

After a moment, she looked back into the lens… it was time for her speech to begin.

(see news article for speech contents)
@Pelasgia
 
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