The Eagle in Splendor

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Changy

The old capital was enjoying the fruits of spring. Tourists flocked to the city for the medieval streets, museums, and other cultural gems. While Brienne was wholeheartedly the place for nightlife, there was a dignified rustle in the weekend evenings in Chagny. With the weather improving from the drab winter, locals also were enjoying the cafes and parks. But within government halls, a bustle was taking place. Though, for most of the government, this was dealing with such things as new agricultural statutes, infrastructural planning, and of course- processing visas for tourists. The old Ducal Palace, since transformed into government offices, the legislature house, and a museum, was equally bustling as the legislature began its meetings after a month-long hiatus. The legislature would work, almost without break, until September. It would then only take a 4 day break. For the Grand Duke, May brought military inspections, meetings, and of course the occasional opportunity to watch sport. Yet, this May also brought headaches.

In the old Bishop's Palace, now the official Ducal Residence, the Council of State met in strict security. The Grand Duke's eyes swept across the map laid out before them as the entire council received their weekly intelligence briefing. The Grand Duke and other members generally received their own daily briefings as well. But today's was different. There were winds of change in many countries and the civil conflicts were beginning to be felt in world economies. Internally, there were serious rumblings from republicans within the government, leftovers from the Republic. The heated discussion within the chamber quickly devolved into an outright argument among some. After 45 minutes, the Grand Duke settled the members. The decision was made. Bourgogne would continue on its present path. Those republicans who cause trouble would be severely dealt with.

Eyes swept back over the map as foreign affairs began to become the central discussion. A new ambassador to Trier was due in the next few months. A massive aid package would need to be renewed for the Peninsular Republic- the former colony. And of course the communist threat. With things stabilized with Serenierre, the conversation turned to the new aggressor- Ivar. The Grand Duke listened in earnest as the council casually discussed Ivar, all muttering things they had in the past. The Grand Duke's hand slammed into the table, palm open, with such force that the thunderous clap even took him by surprise. "You talk about the same god damned strategy of keeping a balance. What balance? Kadikistan writes us off and acts however they damn well please. That is going to end. We tried to be friends and we were spurned. We tried to be civil and we were insulted and talked down to. We tried to be tolerable and we were taken advantage of. Bourgogne is far from the only country Ivar has pushed to the edge. Now, it is time to make things clear".

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Lantigne

The monastery had been mostly destroyed in 1584 thanks to a fire and the monks then faced a spat of disease. The Church built a new monastery miles away only to leave the St. Sebastien of Latigne Monastery abandoned. The lands were not substantial. Indeed it had been built on the edge of the Lachamp forest. In 1850, enterprising doctors purchased the land and had built a sanatorium for the treatment of tuberculosis. The St. Sebastien Sanatorium proved a failure and was abandoned 6 years later. Now, it masqueraded as a government conservation station. Despite being miles from the nearest village, a few vehicles were moved on occasion and university students would work in the surrounding area whilst the complex was vacant. In reality, it served as a dark hole for Bourgogne's intelligence services. The former administrator's house of the sanatorium was, even to the keen eye, simply a conservation office. But the complex underneath was almost 1500 square feet of cells and interrogation rooms. In one such room stood a man of around 40. His tweet pants and blue dress shirt reeked of pipe tobacco. He stood over a small man in a blue jumpsuit who was haphazardly tied to a chair. Parti des Bougies (party of candles), named for their forced pseudo-secrecy, was Bourgogne's defacto communist party. Roger Brault had been a quiet factory accountant before finding leadership in the party. Yet numbers and ledger books were not at the front of his thoughts. The interrogator's gray eyes and vacancy of emotion burned into him. The beating had been rough but not brutal. Brault's family had fled to [MENTION=635]Serenierre[/MENTION] long ago but had been caught by Burgundian authorities at the closed border. Under house arrest in a distant city, they had no way of contacting their patriarch. Again, a punch came to Brault's ribs. "Come now Roger" said the interrogator in his smooth voice, "You can give us the names of the agents of [MENTION=83]Kadikistan[/MENTION]". The interrogator rubbed his hand unconsciously before sighing heavily. "I'd rather not be here all night. I have a football match to watch tomorrow and intend not to be late". The man pulled a chair and sat slowly, only a foot from Brault. "We already know the ins and outs of your organization" he said, mostly being honest. Intelligence had not yet identified the middle management, only the head and tail of the snake. "You see Brault, we can take two paths- you give me the information and this hell is over. Or...Well, you can guess that this will go on....But in reality, this can get much worse. We have been quite accommodating- food, cigarettes, that book....even that glass of local wine" the man said, shaking his head.

"We don't want to go down a second path" he said, with some semblance of genuine concern as he unfolded a pocket knife and with a swiftness that would have surprised a champion boxer, jammed it into Brault's fleshy thigh. He retracted the blade, folding it carefully and throwing it in a corner wastebasket while still seated. The metal basket and pen knife made a loud racket in the small room. Brault did not hear it due to his yelp of anguish. "So, which road shall it be? The one we have just looked down....or the road which leads to answers?" he asked. "You see, Changy is ready to pivot. Too long have these nations, you so idolize, bullied the rest of the world. Even Bourgogne, who has tried to extend a hand of friendship, has been kicked in the shin by these nations. "So...Brault?"

The body of Brault, in a canvas bag, was enough to overpower the smell of tobacco, as the body had lost control of its functions. The man had shaken his head as the bag was loaded onto a truck. Brault would have quite the information for his superiors in the nations deceptively quiet capital.