Pelasgia
Established Nation
Author's note: This thread is intended as the sequel to my previous long-running RP,
Artopoleia, Municipal District VI, Propontis M.P., Pelasgia
A peculiar stillness, an almost eerie air of tranquility, held sway throughout the Artopoleia district. The wide throughfares that surrounded and penetrated the area, lined with trees and flanked by tall residences of a distinctly palatial character built in the unique “Propontine baroque” style, were, as always, home to much traffic going between the downtown boroughs and the further out, more suburban districts of Propontis. Nevertheless, at this time at the middle of the day, following rush hour and before people returned home from school or from work, Municipal District VI, to which the Artopoleia belonged, seemed uncharacteristically tranquil. Indeed, while walking through its internal, less busy and narrower streets, those, that is, that did not serve as a transit point between other parts of the Propontine metropolis, one could go tens of minutes without seeing a single car.
These deeper, more secluded areas of the Artopoleia had thus earned a second, purely unofficial name, which referred to the privileged class of people who could afford the costs of such an urban oasis: Bouleutica or “the [parts of the] Parliamentarians.” It was here, as the name would suggest, that the men (and, more rarely, women) who filled both houses of the imperial legislature, the Legislative Senate, had their residences in their City. Each residence varied in size and opulence (and, indeed, in its distance from the heart of the sub-district) based on the wealth of its corresponding politician; and it was thus far from surprising that the most impressive residences were not those of the Representatives of the Boule—who were directly elected to office, and often had other, real jobs—but those of the members of the Boule of the Provinces, the Senate’s upper house, who were named by the governments of Pelasgia’s regions, and were thus invariably members of the local (and, occasionally, national) Patricianate—the country's milennia-old legally unconstituted but socially quite influential political aristocracy.
To say, of course, that these mansions “belonged” to the Provincial Senators was a bit of a stretch; some of the wealthiest among that class did indeed own their splendid city residences—most notable among them were the Komnenopouloi of Pierrhia, the Stamatelis clan of Pyrgoi, as well as Propontis’ own Kantakouzenos family. (The residences of the Komnenopouloi and the Kantakouzenoi were so massive and impressive as to often stun tourists and even Pelasgian newcomers to the city into thinking they were museums or government buildings; whereas the Stamatelides’ own palace was not quite as grand, but still widely regarded as perhaps the fairest building in all of Propontis—a reputation enhanced by its excellent location near the district’s park.) At any rate, such cases were a distinct minority; for the vast majority of Provincial Senators, for all their wealth and prestige, were not the owners but merely the tenants of their homes, which were actually owned by the government of whatever Theme or Exarchate they represented. Such residences had often been procured through a gift of a wealthy native of that region, in order to enhance its standing among the national elite, and they thus often bore the name of the donor in question, long after he and his line had died and been forgotten, save for this one edifice. Posterity thus remembered the Megaloi Komnenoi of Euxenia; the Daskalogiannakis clan of Zakros; and, of course, the Stavrianos family of Bucellaria.
It was this last building, the exquisite Megaron Stavrianou or “Stavrianos Palace”, that the senior Provincial Senator from Bucellaria, Alexandros Despotopoulos, occupied during this his second term—and, if all went well, only his second term of many. Despotopoulos’ junior colleague, the newly-elected Senator Iordanis Doukas, had to make do with an apartment closer to the actual House of the Senate—quite an ornate and comfortable apartment in the heart of historic Propontis, in truth, but nothing like the architectural marvel that was the Stavrianeion or Stavrianeum as the palace was sometimes known. A historian by training, Alexandros Despotopoulos had always had a soft spot for the heart of the capital; but it was at times like this, specifically at this time of day, that he was reminded how fortunate he was to reside in the Bouleutica and not the more crowded parts of the Meridian's largest metropolis.
Moreover, it was at this same time of day that the honourable Senator chose to delve—even for an hour—into his history books and his journal articles, in so much as his new role allowed. Alas, today was not to be such a day: his eldest son, Ioannes or “Giannis” (a name that practically half the Theme of Bucellaria seemed to go by) had remained home, by reason of his cancelled classes. And rather than allow the boy to retreat into his video games, and the father to revel in his studies, the lady and mother of the home, Mrs. Ariadne Despotopoulou (née Chrysou) had decided that this was finally the time for Alexandros to really mentor his son for the position that he would, in all likelihood, one day have to take up: his own. Much to the dismay of both males, Mrs. Despotopoulou had been right, as she often was.
“At three o’clock I have to meet with Mayor Mercuris and Metropolitan Prefect Valiklis regarding our family’s charity work in the Metropolis,” Alexandros explained to Giannis, who did his best to look like he was paying attention. “This might seem like political busywork and ribbon-cutting, but it is pivotal to increasing our region’s standing among the people of the country’s coastal regions—who, I need not remind you, hold the most sway in electing the Boule, which, in turn, selects the Grand Logothete.”
Giannis did not respond for a few moments, until he realised that his father was awaiting an answer, and forced himself to blurt out something approximating that. “Mhm.” That had been the best that he had managed.
Alexandros Despotopoulos’ brow hardened and his face reddened—he had finally had it, and was about to explode. And between blowing up at his son, who seemed to show no interest for the duties that came with a life as pampered as his, and his wife, who had suggested that this mentoring take place but left her plan's implementation entirely up to him, he saw no solution: if he blew up at his wife, she would merely answer that it was his job, as one who was always away form home for work, to find a way to connect with his son; and if he blew up at Giannis, he would only alienate him and prove Ariande’s point. "A canyon before me, and a foaming river at my back," as the Pelasgian saying went.
“Father,” Giannis said, removing Despotopoulos from his thoughts and saving him from his conundrum. “What’s this at five? ‘Senators Papadakis and Skordillis of Hagios Georgios.’”
Alexandros looked at the computer screen at once, for his son’s voice seemed full of honest enthusiasm—giving him, perhaps, one chance to make something meaningful out of this chore. “That…” Despotopoulos started, before his eyes fell on the schedule, and he realised what his son was referring to. Of all the entries, he thought to himself. Did it have to be this one? Alas, he had not a moment for hesitation. Damnit! I’ll tell him anyway... “That’s a very delicate matter. I’m meeting with my colleagues from Hagios Georgios to discuss ways of… countering the tendencies of executive overreach that seem to be emanating from the Grand Logothete. We have to ensure that Constitutional Monarchy does not substitute the tyranny of Vatatzes for that of Angelopoulos, with only the ballot instead of the Cross as its justification for autocracy.”
Giannis stood up straight and his face took on a serious look as he nodded slowly. So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice a brief but honest smile on his father’s face. He gets it! Alexandros thought. Perhaps there is some hope.
“Yes, father, that does seem important. But if you’re meeting both the Senator from Hagios Georgios, why isn’t our own junior Senator, Mr. Doukas, with you?”
Alexandros’ eyebrows shot up—he had not expected the boy to “get it” to that extent. “Well… Doukas has important work representing Bucellaria before the Chamber of Commerce for some economic matters.” He hoped to leave it there, but, realising that lying to his son so openly would only undo all that he had managed to achieve so far, decided to explain further. “You see, him and I do not necessarily see eye to eye on some of these things… the political issues, the questions of State… so, as the senior Senator, I deem it best to represent Bucellaria’s interests myself, to give a better image of what our Theme’s wishes are. In the meantime, Doukas takes on some other tasks of mine, allowing us to do our work more efficiently, and giving him valuable experience which he could use one day, especially if he is to ever succeed me as the senior Senator.”
“I see,” Giannis said. “That makes sense. Do you think I could join you in one of these meetings sometime?”
“Certainly!” Alexandros replied with excitement—only to dial down his response a moment later, as he realised what the next request would be. “Not this one, of course; I’d have to alert the Hagiogeorgites* in at the last and then change the whole format of the meeting to make it instructions—and, besides, you’ve practice to attend then. But, if you want, I could have my assistant plan something perfect for us later this week, or early the next.”
*The demonym of Hagios Georgios, which is a Theme, an island and a city.
Giannis smiled. “Of course, father! That’d be great.”
Alexandros smiled back. It had worked! And, of course, he was glad that he would be getting a chance to show his son what he did for a living—without bringing him into a potentially dangerous political negotiation in the process.
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. ~DemosArtopoleia, Municipal District VI, Propontis M.P., Pelasgia
A peculiar stillness, an almost eerie air of tranquility, held sway throughout the Artopoleia district. The wide throughfares that surrounded and penetrated the area, lined with trees and flanked by tall residences of a distinctly palatial character built in the unique “Propontine baroque” style, were, as always, home to much traffic going between the downtown boroughs and the further out, more suburban districts of Propontis. Nevertheless, at this time at the middle of the day, following rush hour and before people returned home from school or from work, Municipal District VI, to which the Artopoleia belonged, seemed uncharacteristically tranquil. Indeed, while walking through its internal, less busy and narrower streets, those, that is, that did not serve as a transit point between other parts of the Propontine metropolis, one could go tens of minutes without seeing a single car.
These deeper, more secluded areas of the Artopoleia had thus earned a second, purely unofficial name, which referred to the privileged class of people who could afford the costs of such an urban oasis: Bouleutica or “the [parts of the] Parliamentarians.” It was here, as the name would suggest, that the men (and, more rarely, women) who filled both houses of the imperial legislature, the Legislative Senate, had their residences in their City. Each residence varied in size and opulence (and, indeed, in its distance from the heart of the sub-district) based on the wealth of its corresponding politician; and it was thus far from surprising that the most impressive residences were not those of the Representatives of the Boule—who were directly elected to office, and often had other, real jobs—but those of the members of the Boule of the Provinces, the Senate’s upper house, who were named by the governments of Pelasgia’s regions, and were thus invariably members of the local (and, occasionally, national) Patricianate—the country's milennia-old legally unconstituted but socially quite influential political aristocracy.
To say, of course, that these mansions “belonged” to the Provincial Senators was a bit of a stretch; some of the wealthiest among that class did indeed own their splendid city residences—most notable among them were the Komnenopouloi of Pierrhia, the Stamatelis clan of Pyrgoi, as well as Propontis’ own Kantakouzenos family. (The residences of the Komnenopouloi and the Kantakouzenoi were so massive and impressive as to often stun tourists and even Pelasgian newcomers to the city into thinking they were museums or government buildings; whereas the Stamatelides’ own palace was not quite as grand, but still widely regarded as perhaps the fairest building in all of Propontis—a reputation enhanced by its excellent location near the district’s park.) At any rate, such cases were a distinct minority; for the vast majority of Provincial Senators, for all their wealth and prestige, were not the owners but merely the tenants of their homes, which were actually owned by the government of whatever Theme or Exarchate they represented. Such residences had often been procured through a gift of a wealthy native of that region, in order to enhance its standing among the national elite, and they thus often bore the name of the donor in question, long after he and his line had died and been forgotten, save for this one edifice. Posterity thus remembered the Megaloi Komnenoi of Euxenia; the Daskalogiannakis clan of Zakros; and, of course, the Stavrianos family of Bucellaria.
It was this last building, the exquisite Megaron Stavrianou or “Stavrianos Palace”, that the senior Provincial Senator from Bucellaria, Alexandros Despotopoulos, occupied during this his second term—and, if all went well, only his second term of many. Despotopoulos’ junior colleague, the newly-elected Senator Iordanis Doukas, had to make do with an apartment closer to the actual House of the Senate—quite an ornate and comfortable apartment in the heart of historic Propontis, in truth, but nothing like the architectural marvel that was the Stavrianeion or Stavrianeum as the palace was sometimes known. A historian by training, Alexandros Despotopoulos had always had a soft spot for the heart of the capital; but it was at times like this, specifically at this time of day, that he was reminded how fortunate he was to reside in the Bouleutica and not the more crowded parts of the Meridian's largest metropolis.
Moreover, it was at this same time of day that the honourable Senator chose to delve—even for an hour—into his history books and his journal articles, in so much as his new role allowed. Alas, today was not to be such a day: his eldest son, Ioannes or “Giannis” (a name that practically half the Theme of Bucellaria seemed to go by) had remained home, by reason of his cancelled classes. And rather than allow the boy to retreat into his video games, and the father to revel in his studies, the lady and mother of the home, Mrs. Ariadne Despotopoulou (née Chrysou) had decided that this was finally the time for Alexandros to really mentor his son for the position that he would, in all likelihood, one day have to take up: his own. Much to the dismay of both males, Mrs. Despotopoulou had been right, as she often was.
“At three o’clock I have to meet with Mayor Mercuris and Metropolitan Prefect Valiklis regarding our family’s charity work in the Metropolis,” Alexandros explained to Giannis, who did his best to look like he was paying attention. “This might seem like political busywork and ribbon-cutting, but it is pivotal to increasing our region’s standing among the people of the country’s coastal regions—who, I need not remind you, hold the most sway in electing the Boule, which, in turn, selects the Grand Logothete.”
Giannis did not respond for a few moments, until he realised that his father was awaiting an answer, and forced himself to blurt out something approximating that. “Mhm.” That had been the best that he had managed.
Alexandros Despotopoulos’ brow hardened and his face reddened—he had finally had it, and was about to explode. And between blowing up at his son, who seemed to show no interest for the duties that came with a life as pampered as his, and his wife, who had suggested that this mentoring take place but left her plan's implementation entirely up to him, he saw no solution: if he blew up at his wife, she would merely answer that it was his job, as one who was always away form home for work, to find a way to connect with his son; and if he blew up at Giannis, he would only alienate him and prove Ariande’s point. "A canyon before me, and a foaming river at my back," as the Pelasgian saying went.
“Father,” Giannis said, removing Despotopoulos from his thoughts and saving him from his conundrum. “What’s this at five? ‘Senators Papadakis and Skordillis of Hagios Georgios.’”
Alexandros looked at the computer screen at once, for his son’s voice seemed full of honest enthusiasm—giving him, perhaps, one chance to make something meaningful out of this chore. “That…” Despotopoulos started, before his eyes fell on the schedule, and he realised what his son was referring to. Of all the entries, he thought to himself. Did it have to be this one? Alas, he had not a moment for hesitation. Damnit! I’ll tell him anyway... “That’s a very delicate matter. I’m meeting with my colleagues from Hagios Georgios to discuss ways of… countering the tendencies of executive overreach that seem to be emanating from the Grand Logothete. We have to ensure that Constitutional Monarchy does not substitute the tyranny of Vatatzes for that of Angelopoulos, with only the ballot instead of the Cross as its justification for autocracy.”
Giannis stood up straight and his face took on a serious look as he nodded slowly. So deeply absorbed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice a brief but honest smile on his father’s face. He gets it! Alexandros thought. Perhaps there is some hope.
“Yes, father, that does seem important. But if you’re meeting both the Senator from Hagios Georgios, why isn’t our own junior Senator, Mr. Doukas, with you?”
Alexandros’ eyebrows shot up—he had not expected the boy to “get it” to that extent. “Well… Doukas has important work representing Bucellaria before the Chamber of Commerce for some economic matters.” He hoped to leave it there, but, realising that lying to his son so openly would only undo all that he had managed to achieve so far, decided to explain further. “You see, him and I do not necessarily see eye to eye on some of these things… the political issues, the questions of State… so, as the senior Senator, I deem it best to represent Bucellaria’s interests myself, to give a better image of what our Theme’s wishes are. In the meantime, Doukas takes on some other tasks of mine, allowing us to do our work more efficiently, and giving him valuable experience which he could use one day, especially if he is to ever succeed me as the senior Senator.”
“I see,” Giannis said. “That makes sense. Do you think I could join you in one of these meetings sometime?”
“Certainly!” Alexandros replied with excitement—only to dial down his response a moment later, as he realised what the next request would be. “Not this one, of course; I’d have to alert the Hagiogeorgites* in at the last and then change the whole format of the meeting to make it instructions—and, besides, you’ve practice to attend then. But, if you want, I could have my assistant plan something perfect for us later this week, or early the next.”
*The demonym of Hagios Georgios, which is a Theme, an island and a city.
Giannis smiled. “Of course, father! That’d be great.”
Alexandros smiled back. It had worked! And, of course, he was glad that he would be getting a chance to show his son what he did for a living—without bringing him into a potentially dangerous political negotiation in the process.
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