Pelasgia
Established Nation
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ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙΑ ΤΩΝ ΚΑΡΩΝ
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.(All posts in this thread are to be read as if made by Caria, unless otherwise indicated. This where I'll be posting occasional RP as my secondary/puppet nation.)
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Nauplia, Naupliotica District, Caria
The loud ringing of the alarm echoed through the apartment, bouncing around the walls of the bedroom and out into the hallway. Apostolos rose from his bed in a hurry, only to realise that he was finally entitled to rest—it was Friday morning alright, but his last exam season had just finished, so the young Carian was finally allowed to relax. Yet, try as he might, he could not fall back asleep; so long had he been accustomed to rising early, that anything else seemed both wasteful and impossible. With much resistance and even more groaning, Apostolos got out of bed and headed through the apartment's main hallway. The humble floor, with its unassuming geometric pattern-decorated tiles, matched well both with the apartment's laconic interior. Certainly, the all-white "simplified neoclassical" tower blocks built by the State to house the people of Caria lacked neither utilities nor nearby services; they were even spacious, warm in the winter, and cool in the summer, and nearly free to top it all off. What they were not, however, was stylish. Alas, after a life both in and surrounded by such buildings in the newer residential suburbs in the northeast of the Carian capital, Apostolos had grown to ignore the simplicity of his surroundings.
"Good morning," came the greeting from inside the kitchen. Sofoklis, Apostolos' brother, was already sat at the family table, consuming a mix of yogurt and cookies—his go-to breakfast. From the faint but inescapable smell of chlorine, Apostolos could tell that his brother had gone for a swim that morning. Indeed, next to the door was Sofoklis' sports bag, stamped with the logo of the local municipal sports club and the Royal Crown—was there a single institution or item in this country not marked with a crown?
"Good morning, Sofoklis," Apostolos replied as he headed for the fridge. "Practices not done yet?"
Sofoklis shrugged. "Today was the last one for the summer, thank God. Coach still gave us hell." He paused and shot a glance at the table before him with his big brown eyes. "Hey, could you grab the orange juice?"
Apostolos nodded and opened the fridge, itself covered in images of the two Xanthos brothers, along with their parents, Dr. Konstaninos Xanthos and Despoina (née Papastavrou) Xanthou. Relying on muscle memory, he removed the large bottle of orange juice, along with some leftover cake, without even looking; instead, his eyes were fixed on the view from the small corner window of the kitchen, down onto the street below the apartment building. A small army of men, dressed in dark blue and white uniforms with bulletproof vests and garisson caps patrolled the streets, armed with a mix of pistols and sub-machine guns. Beside them were likewise coloured vehicles, which had practically blocked off the intersection with Palinorthoseos Avenue, the large street that cut through the entirety of the suburb of Larissa. Like most main roads of municipalities in Caria, the avenue in question had been named after the Theodoreios Palinorthosis or "Theodorean Restoration" (that is, the return to direct royal rule and quasi-absolute monarchy in the 1980s). It was on the sides of this avenue that a large crowd had assembled, patiently waiting for someone to drive through.
"Something the matter?" asked a curious and somewhat impatient Sofoklis. He had noticed his brother's somewhat long paused beside the window.
A few more instants passed before the older of the two brothers answered. "The Royal Police have blocked off the street—is something happening today?"
Sofoklis seemed dumbfounded, so much so that his otherwise pale and tired visage momentarily lit up with minor outrage. "For God's sake, Apostolos!" he explained impatiently. "It's the Crown Prince's wedding! The motorcade is passing through the main avenue on its way downtown!"
Apostolos himself stood there for a moment, pondering at his own forgetfulness. "Ah yes," he said eventually. "They have to drive the bride here from her Duchy of Thoricus. That's why our King couldn't attend the Royal Wedding in @Tarusa, right?"
Sofoklis stood up and finally seized the orange juice from his brother's hand. He loudly gulped down a glass or two of the thing, before setting it aside and answering. "Yeah, or so the Palace said. Personally, I think they'd have found another excuse not to attend regardless—people don't call Caria the 'Hermit Kingdom' for nothing."
A mere nod was all that Apostolos could muster to voice his agreement. "Speaking of weddings," he started as he sat down to enjoy his own breakfast. "Where are mom and dad? I need their advice on a gift to pick for Katerina's wedding."
"Dad's at work, like he always is," Sofoklis retorted, removing his own plate from the table and heading for the sink to wash it. "There's probably even more patients that need care, what with all the people who got drunk yesterday to celebrate the wedding. As for mom, she's running errands. It is flea market day after all, so you'll probably find her near the Saint Athanasius' church if you really can't wait."
Apostolos devoured his breakfast with the hunger of a thousand lions, as if he had been the one exercising all morning and not his brother. The smell of chocolate had a way of making him hungry. Finally, after a few instants, he stood up and put his empty plate in the sink. "I'll go find her, it's a nice day after all. Wanna come?"
Sofoklis shook his head. "I've gotta wash all the chlorine off—and I hate the flea market. But you make sure to bring you Citizen's Card this time! Last thing we need is the Bluecoats* taking you to the precinct for 'identity verification' on a day like this."
*The nickname of the Carian Royal Police.
A dismissive motion of the hand was Apostolos' near immediate reply to his brother's warning. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You need a royal license to breathe in this freaking country." He checked his pockets and produced the item in question: a bar-coded small plastic card with his photo, biometrics and personal information, like the one given to each and every Nauplian national and resident at age 13 at their local police station. Officially, it had been created to merge the functions of an ID card, driver's license, health card, internal passport, social insurance card, and a host of other documents; unofficially, of course, these were mere additional features of yet another unabashed attempt at control by the government of Caria—a constitutional monarchy with a constitution so unrestrictive of the Crown, one wondered why it had not been simply done away with after the Restoration.
"Hey tough guy, say that out loud and you won't be leaving the precinct," Sofoklis commented with a mix of mockery and honest concern. "You know what grandpa always said back in Anaktora: 'Nauplia is both free and safe, so long as you don't talk politics.'"
"Some freedom," Apostolos snarked back as he unlocked the door to leave the apartment. "Guess we can always talk about important things like water polo and the weather."
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