The Second Republic

[Pelasgia]

«Ἡ Β΄ Δημοκρατία δὲν ἰδρύθηκε οὔτε ἀπὸ δικηγόρους, οὔτε ἀπὸ ἐμπόρους: τὴν ἰδρυσε μία ὁμάδα στρατηγῶν, ποὺ οἱ μισοὶ γεννήθηκαν σχεδὸν ξυπόλητοι σὲ ἀπόμακρα χωριὰ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι μισοί, Πατρίκιοι ἀπὸ τὰ χρόνια τῶν Καισάρων. Ἡ Δημοκρατία μας, κύριοι, εἶναι ἐν μέρει λαϊκὴ καὶ ἐν μέρει ἀριστοκρατική· ἀστικὴ πάντως δὲν εἶναι!»
"The Second [Carian] Republic was founded by neither lawyers nor merchants: its founders were a group of generals, half of whom were born nearly barefoot in distant hamlets and the rest, Patricians from the days of the Caesars. Our Republic, gentlemen, is part popular and part aristocratic; she is not, however, bourgeois!"
​

- Prof. Alexios Demetriopoulos, Chair of Constitutional Law at the National University of Nauplia
during a lecture on the tenth Anniversary of the Proclamation of the Second Republic (2004)​

 

[Pelasgia]

Nauplia, Naupliotica Province, Caria

Located on the broad edge of the triangular public park known as Anexartisia or "Independece" Square, Nauplia Central Railway Station was one of the most well-known landmarks of the Carian capital. Every day, thousands upon thousands of Carians and foreigners transited through this massive edifice with its imposing neoclassical support pillars and its impressive steel and stained-glass roof. It was a common right of passage for newcomers to the city to take a picture next to the station's majestic, large clock, which was considered to be the most accurate in the city, apart from the National Research Foundation's Atomic Clock, of course. On the opposite end of the beautiful, chessboard-like marble tile expanse that was Anexartisia Square stood an elegant 19th-century building with stone arches and a chequered floor. Its large, old-fashioned windows were inscribed in large, sheriff letters «ΚΕΝΤΡΙΚΟΝ ΚΑΦΕΝΕΙΟΝ»* or "Central Café." This too, was a major landmark of Nauplia, offering both locals and visitors and stop for a coffee, a snack and wifi at almost any time in the day, all within a short walk of the nation's central railway junction, in the beating heart of Nauplia.
*Pronounced "Kendrikón Kafeníon" and transliterated Kentrikòn Kapheneíon (classical) or Kendrikòn Kafeneíon (modern/phonetic).

A twenty-something year old unassuming but friendly and "attractive-enough" student from the suburbs of Nauplia, Stavroula worked as a waitress in between her classes at the National University of Nauplia, where she studied to become a child psychologist. Though university education in Caria was free and paid for by the state (for those that made it through the extremely difficult national placement exams that controlled admission to tertiary education tightly, anyway), Stavroula, like many young Carians, worked to pay for her own nights out with friends and to save a bit for summer vacation. She still lived with her parents, something which was quite common for Carians until their late twenties or early thirties, when they could afford their own home or apartment. At the end of the current semester, Stavroula would be qualified to work as an intern in her own field and she would thus leave her job at the Central Café behind; in a certain sense, she would miss it. Sure, her internship would be more interesting and useful professionally (and the pay and hours would probably be better), but there was a certain unique perspective one got by interacting with or even simply overhearing the countless different people who went through the beating heart of the city every day.

«Σταυρούλα» ("Stavroula"), Giannis, her colleague from the cashier's desk called out to her politely. «Πᾷς ἕνα πιατάκι λουκούμια 'ς τὸ 5; Κερασμένα ἀπὸ μένα.» ("Can you take a plate of loukoumia* to

5? My treat.")

*Lycaonian (OOC: Turkish) delight Stavroula nodded and brought a few of the colourful, sugar-coated cubes of starch and almond paste to the table, where she recognised a group of young women including Giannis' sister, Lydia. «Σ' εὐχαριστῶ Ρούλα μου!» ("Thank you, my Roula!") Lydia said with a bright, honest smile, calling the waitress by her diminutive, before returning to her discussion with her friends. Stavroula reciprocated with a smile and refilled the young women's water glasses, overhearing their discussion. «Καὶ ποὺ λές, ἡ Ἀθηνὰ τὰ 'φτιαξε μὲ τὸν τυπᾶ ποὺ γνώρισε 'ς τοὺς Λέοντες!» ("Anyway, if you'll believe it, Athina is in a relationship with the guy she met at Leontes* [metro station]!") she said, with too much suss for even a student at the National University. «Τὰ ἔφτιαξαν ὄντως ἢ 'ς τὸ μυαλὸ τῆς Ἀθηνᾶς μόνο;» ("Are they actually a thing or merely in Athina's imagination?") said Niki, one of Lydia's friends, causing the girls to giggle.
*A mixed-use area northeast of downtown Nauplia, named after a pair of ancient lion statues located in front of a medieval arch at its traditional entrance.

Stavroula stepped away from the girls' table to remove an empty plate from that of a man and a woman dressed in the unmistakable uniforms of the Carian Military Police, which, since the foundation of the Second Republic, also operated as a secret and political police with special civilian jurisdiction. «Ὅ,τι καὶ νὰ γίνῃ, Ἀνθυπολοχαγέ, τὸ φταίξιμο θὰ τὸ ἀναλάβω ἐγώ. Ἐσὺ ἐπικεντρώσου 'ς τὸ νὰ τὸν κάνῃς νὰ νομίζῃ πὼς εἶσαι μὲ τὸ μέρος του.» ("Whatever happens, Lieutenant, I'll take the blame. You focus on making him think that you're on his side.") said the man, whom, by his demeanour, Stavroula took to be the more senior of the pair. «Μάλιστα κύριε Συνταγματάρχα.» ("Of couse, Colonel sir.") the female Lieutenant answered. «Μὰ δὲν φοβάστε πὼς εἶναι πιθανὸν ἡ Β7 νὰ μᾶς κρεμάσῃ;» ("But aren't you concerned that B7* might hang us out to dry?") The Colonel shook his head. «Ὁ Στρατηγὸς θὰ μᾶς καλύψῃ, ἀρκεῖ βεβαίως νὰ ἔχουμε ἀποτελέσματα. Ὁπότε πρέπει νὰ ἐπικεντρωθοῦμε 'ς αὐτό, πάσει θυσίᾳ.» ("The General will cover us, provided of course that we have results. So we must focus on that, at all cost.")
*B7 is the section of the Army General Staff in charge of the Military Police.

Stavroula placed the empty table at the counter, for Giannis to move it to the to-wash pile, only for a young man from the large table right in front of the counter to politely get her attention. «Συγγνώμη, μᾶς φέρνῃς τὸν λογαριασμό;» ("Excuse me, could you bring us the bill?") he said in a heavy northern Carian accent, his keychain bearing the unmistakable red star of Asteras Nikaias F.C., the football club of northern Caria's largest metropolis. «Ἀμέσως.» ("At once.") Stavroula answered, with a nod to Giannis, who printed the bill for the table in question. «Ρε φίλε, αὐτοὶ οἱ Νότιοι μᾶς ἔχουν σὰν ἀποικία τους. Ἐδῶ κάτω τὸ μετρὸ ἔχει ὁλοκαίνουριες μπάρες ποὺ περνᾷς μὲ τὴν κάρτα σου, καὶ ἐμείς ἔχουμε μόνο δύο γραμμές.» ("Man, these Southerners treat us like a colony. Down here, the metro has brand new turnstyles where you can just swipe your [credit] card, while we've only got two [metro] lines [back home].") the man said to another young man sitting at the table. «Τὶ νὰ σὲ πῶ ρε φίλε,* πόσοι χρησιμοποιοῦν τὸ δικό μας μετρό καὶ πόσοι τοῦτο 'δω; Πρέπει νὰ λάβουν ὑπ' ὅψιν καὶ τὸ τὶ θὰ ποῦν οἱ ξένοι ποὺ ἐπισκέπτονται τὴν πρωτεύουσα, μὲ πιάνεις;» ("What to tell you,* my friend—how many people do you think use our metro compared to theirs? They also have to take into account what the foreigners who visit the capital will say, you get me?") The first man, however, was not convinced. «Σιγὰ τὴν πρωτεύουσα ρε μαλάκα.» ("And what a fucking capital, dude!") he added, with obvious irony.
*The use of accusative rather than genitive to indicate an action directed at someone or something (both in lieu of the ancient dative) is a distinct feature of the Northern Carian dialect, being considered a serious syntactic error elsewhere in the Carian-speaking world.

Acting as if she had not heard anything—much like everyone else at the café—the young waitress placed the bill on the table inside a small glass, thanking the patrons and then going to leave a pair of warm teas at a corner table, which stood right under the portrait of the establishment's founder, the famous 19th-century journalist and intellectual Xenophon Makrinos. There, a group of older gentlemen were engaged in the favourite of all Carian men above a certain age: discussing politics, each with the confidence of a thousand expert on every topic, regardless of his actual experience on the matter and always with a good bit of provocative exaggeration that somehow never resulted in any (lasting) ill feelings between any of them. «Εἶναι σκανδαλῶδες ποὺ ὁ λαός μας δὲν ἔχει ἀντιδράσει ἐδῶ καὶ τόσα χρόνια ἐνάντια 'ς αὐτὰ τὰ ἀκραῖα μέτρα τῆς Β΄ Δημοκρατίας! Κατέσχεσαν τὶς ἐκκλησιαστικὲς γαῖες, κατήργησαν ὅλα τὰ προνόμια τῶν πατρίκιων, καταπάτησαν χιλιᾶδες χρόνια παράδοσης καὶ δὲν ἐπέτρεψαν κὰν 'ς τὸν διάδοχο νὰ γυρίσῃ 'ς τῆν χῶρα παρὰ μόνο γιὰ νὰ κηδέψῃ τὸν πατέρα του. Μὰ ἔχουμε χάσῃ κάθε σεβασμὸ γιὰ τα πατροπαράδοτα;» ("It is scandalous how our people have not reacted all these years against the Second Republic's radical policies! They seized the church lands, they abolished all traditional patrician privileges, they trampled thousands of years of traditional and they didn't even let the Crown Prince return to the country to except to bury his father. Have we lost all respect for our forefathers' ways?") roared one old man, tightly clenching his walking stick. «Γιατὶ μωρὲ Τάκη, εἶσαι εὐγενῆς καὶ δὲν τὸ ξέραμε;» ("Why, Takis, have you been a nobleman without telling us all this time?") joked another old man, to the amusement of the rest. «Ἀν ἐσὺ θὲς νὰ χρειάζεται νὰ γλύφῃς τὸν κάθε μεγαλόσχημο γιὰ νὰ βρῇς τὸ δίκιο σου ἢ νὰ πληρώνουν νοίκι οἱ ἀγρότες σὲ μοναστήρια λὲς καὶ εἶναι κολίγοι, δικαίωμά σου. Ἀλλὰ ἐγὼ δὲν τὰ θέλω αὐτά. Νὰ ζήσῃ ὁ Στρατηγός Πετρόπουλος!» (If you want to have to kiss the ass of some magnate to be vindicated [before the State] or for the farmers to pay rent to some monastery like medieval peasants, that's your right. But I don't want these things. Long live General Petropoulos!") A few of the old men nodded, and some others shook their heads. «Καὶ τὰ παιδιά μας; Οἱ κοπελιὲς παίρνουν ἄχρηστα πτυχία ἀντὶ νὰ κάνουν κανὰ παιδί πλέον.» ("And what of our children? Young women get useless degrees instead of having a kid or too these days.") the other retorted, as if Stavroula wasn't there. «Ἐ καί; Γιατὶ δηλαδὴ τὸ χαρτὶ εἶναι ποὺ τοὺς σταματάει τοὺς νέους, ὅταν πρέπει νὰ φτάσῃς τριάντα χρονῶν γιὰ νὰ ἀγοράσῃς ἕνα σπίτι πλέον;» ("And? Do you think the paper's what's stopping the young people [from forming families], when you have to wait until thirty years old to even think of buying a home?") the second elderly man answered back. «Ἐ ἀς μὴν τὰ τρώγαν σὲ καφέδες καὶ ποτά!» ("Well, they shouldn't waste all they make on coffees and drinks!") came the expected response. Stavroula rolled her eyes as she walked away from the table—not at the opinions, mind you, that was standard fare; but at how these old men could have the same argument seven days a week without tiring of rehearsing the same old talking points without fail.

She went to refill a water jug, before Giannis tapped her hand. «Ἔλα, ἔφτασε 7, ἔβγα.» ("Come on, it's 7 [p.m.], get out of here.") he said in a friendly tone, as if to say "lucky you." He still had a couple of hours of work left. «Καλὸ κουράγιο!» ("Good courage!") Stavroula answered, nodding slightly in the direction of the old men, and she took off her apron, heading into the back of the store to punch out. That night, she'd planned to go to the concert of Giannakoulis, a famous neo-folk singer, with some friends of hers; not that she enjoyed it, really, but it was the birthday of Giorgos, the boyfriend of her classmate, Maria, and that kind of music was all she listened to. Plus, Maria had really insisted that she wanted her to meet a friend of Giorgos who was also coming—which was code for "Get a boyfriend already, it's been six months since the last guy." She had no choice but to at least give it a go, or else the message would only get less subtle.

 

[Pelasgia]

Nauplia, Naupliotica Province, Caria

A dim, distant light seeped in from the arch-shaped windows of the Palace of Nauplia, which overlooked the capital from its advantageous spot at the peak of the Citadel (or "Acropolis"). Overshadowed only by the ancient temple that had been converted into the Cathedral of Saint Andrew many centuries ago, to save it from destruction by fanatics in Christianity's early days, the impressive edifice that served as the seat of the Carian head of state was built in true Propontine style, despite being a 19th-century construct, to replace the aging, older structure that had been the original, much less impressive palace. At the very heart of the complex, right above the great hall were ambassadors and foreign dignitaries were received, stood the Privy Council Chamber, where the Despots of Caria had once received their closest advisors. While most Carians went about their normal lives, enjoying a somewhat warm autumnal weekend night, the most powerful in the land were gathered around the splendid wooden table of the Anaktoboulion, as the Privy Council was called in Carian.

Sitting at the head of the table, an elderly man in the dark robes of a Metropolitan of the Orthodox Church wore an expression as dim and gloomy as his garments. «Ὁπότε ὁ κ. Νομικός ἔχει ἀποκλείσῃ πᾶν ἐνδεχόμενον νὰ ἀναλάβῃ τὴν Προεδρία τῆς Δημοκρατίας...» ("So Mr. Nomikos has ruled out all possibility of taking on the Presidency of the Republic...") the Archbishop announced, tapping the silver tip of his black clerical staff, as if to signify that this was the official State's recognition that the late President's preferred successor was not even in the race. Archbishop Nikandros, the head of the Autocephalous Church of Caria, had good reason to take on such an officious tone, for, in the absence of a sitting President, he was the country's interim head of state, as had been the case during the Despotate, when the Metropolitan of Nauplia was the default Regent.

«Μᾶς πρότεινε τὸν Ναύαρχο Φωκᾶ ἐν ἀντικαταστάσει, Σεβασμιώτατε.» ("He recommended Admiral Phokas as a substitute, Your Grace.") pointed out an equally the equally elderly Laonikos Choniates, who wore, at the same time, a tie with the emblem of the National University of Nauplia (which he headed as Rector) and a golden and purple pin bearing the emblem of the Senate (of which he was the President). «Ἴσως νὰ μὴν εἶναι ἐξίσου πολιτικὰ δικτυομένος καὶ ἔμπειρος, παραμένει ὅμως ἕνας διακεκριμένος ἀξιωματικὸς ποὺ χαίρει τοῦ σεβασμοῦ τῶν ἐνόπλων δυνάμεων καὶ τοῦ λαοῦ.» ("He might not be as politically connected and experienced, but he remains, nonetheless, a distinguished officer who enjoys the respect of the military and the people.")

«Οὐδεὶς δὲ λησμωνεὶ τὰ ἀνδραγαθήματα τοῦ Ναυάρχου κατὰ τὴν Κρίση τοῦ Ἀρχιπελάγους, κύριε Χωνιάτη.» ("No one forgets the brave acts of the Admiral during the Archipelago Crisis, Mr. Choniates.") came the retort from the man sitting right across from him: Lt. Gen. Papastavrou, who bore the unmistakable insignia of the commander of the Nauplia Army Garrison. For all intents an purposes, Papastavrou was the man who would keep the Second Republic in place, if push came to shove, through the barrels of his tanks—and his stern, piercing gaze was befitting of a man who role was characterised drenched in such macabre practicality. «Τὸ πρόβλημα εἶναι πὼς δὲν εἶναι πολιτικός, ἄρα δὲν θα μπορέσει νὰ ἐλέγξει τὴ Βουλή, ἀλλὰ δὲν εἶναι καὶ ἀξιωματικὸς τοῦ Στρατοῦ Ξηρᾶς, ἄρα δὲν θὰ μπορέσει νὰ έπιβληθῇ στὸ στράτευμα. Καὶ μετὰ τί; Θὰ βυθιστῇ ἡ χώρα στὸν ἐμφύλιο σπαραγμό;» ("The problem is that he is not a politician, so he cannot control the Boule, but he is also not an officer of the Army, so he will not be able to impose himself upon the military. And after that what? Will we let the country slide into civil war?")

The issue was obvious, patent, even tangible perhaps. Unlike, the Army, which had been the progenitor and dominant force of the regime, and the Air Force, which was a loyalist branch to its core, the Navy had always been seen as the black sheep of the Second Republic. Filled with monarchists among its higher echelons and socialists in its rank and file, the Navy was seen as the very essence of reaction: a yearning for a return to the Despotate and its parliamentarism, with a mix of revolutionary fervour. Kept out of all positions of power, the Navy had been cordoned off the rest of the regime. Admiral Phokas was perhaps the blackest sheep of the flock, for he was descended from a noble family with ties to both the Notaras Dynasty and the old Propontine Emperors, and thus seen as inherently disloyal. He was not of the lower nobility that had established the Republic: he was of the higher nobility, who had never accepted the abolition of the Despotate.

«Παρὰ ταῦτα,» ("And yet,") started the Archbishop, stroking his cane, «Ἐκεῖ ἔγκειται ἡ ἰσχύς του. Διότι, ἐπειδὴ ἀκριβῶς δὲν ἀνοίκει οὔτε στὴν πολιτικὴ τάξη ποὺ ἔχει κυβερνήσῃ τὴ χώρα ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχὴ τῆς Α΄ Δημοκρατίας, οὔτε στὸν Στρατό, ποὺ γέννησε τὴν Β΄ Δημοκρατία, μπορεὶ νὰ θεωρηθῇ ἀπὸ τὸν λαὸ ὠς ἕνας τρίτος παράγων, ὠς οὐδέτερος. Καὶ ἔτσι, μπορεὶ νὰ κερδίσῃ τὴν ἐμπιστοσύνη τοῦ λαοῦ γιὰ νὰ ἀνανεωθῇ τὸ πολίτευμα.» ("Therein lies his strength. For, precisely because he belongs to neither the political class that has ruled the country since the inception of the First Republic, nor to the Army, which birthed the Second Republic, he can be considered by the people to be a third party, a neutral arbiter. And thus, he can win the confidence of the people to renew the constitution.")

«Δὲ φοβᾶστε ὄτι θὰ προσπαθήσῃ νὰ ἐπαναφέρῃ τὴ Δεσποτεία;» ("Are you not afraid that he will try to restore the Despotate?") demanded Papastavrou. «Ἀν τὸ κάνῃ αὐτὸ, πρὶν κὰν πατήσῃ τὸ πόδι του στὴ χώρα ὁ ὅποιος Νοταρᾶς μᾶς φέρει θὰ ἔχουν βαφτῇ ἤδη κόκκινες ὅλες οἱ πλατεῖες τῆς χώρας!» ("If he does that, before whatever Notaras he seeks to bring us sets foot in the country, all the town squares in the country will have been dyed red.")

The silver-haired rector shook his head. «Ἡ Β΄ Δημοκρατία εἶναι μελοθάνατη. Ο Στρατηγός Πετρόπουλος τὸ γνώριζε, γι' αὐτὸ καὶ ἐπέλεξε τὸν κ. Νομικό. Ὁ κ. Νομικὸς ὅμως καταλαβαίνει πὼς εἶναι πολὺ ἀργὰ γιὰ μία σταδιακὴ μετάβαση πρὸς τὴν συνταγματικὴ νομιμότητα. Πέρισι τέτοιον καιρό, ἀποβάλαμε εἴκοσι φοιτητές ἀπὸ τὸ Πανεπιστήμιο γιὰ ἀντικαθεστωτικὲς ἐκδηλώσεις. Φέτος ἦταν ἐβδομῆντα. Τοὺ χρόνου πόσοι θὰ εἶναι; Ἤδη, στὶς πλατεῖες, στοὺς δρόμους, ὁ κόσμος ἀψηφᾷ πολλὲς ἀπὸ τὶς ἀπαγορεύσεις τοῦ Στρατοῦ. Οἱ νέοι ἀντιστέκονται στὴ θητεία διότι νιώθουν ὄτι τὸ καθεστῶς δὲν τοὺς ἐκφράζει. Ἀν συνεχίσουμε ἔτσι, ὁ ἐμφύλιος θὰ ἔλθῃ ἀπὸ μόνος του.» ("The Second Republic is moribund. General Petropoulos knew, hence he chose Mr. Nomikos. But Mr. Nomikos understands that it is too late for a gradual transition to constitutional legality. This time last year, we expelled twenty students from the University for anti-regime activism. This year, it was seventy. How many will it be in a year? Already, in squares, on the streets, people are defying the Army's prohibitions. Young people resist military service because they believe that the regime does not express their concerns. If we continue like this, civil war will come on its own.")

Evangelos Psaras, the Procurator General, who had been quietly listening this whole time, adjusted his silver spectacles. «Ἄρα τὶ προτείνετε, κύριε Πρύτανη;» ("So what are you suggesting, Mr. Rector?")

«Προτείνω νὰ προλάβουμε τὶς ἐξελίξεις καὶ νὰ ἐπαναφέρουμε τὴν νομιμότητα ἀπὸ τὴν ἀρχή, κύριε Ψαρᾶ: ἀπὸ τὸ 1971!» ("I propose to get ahead of events and to restore legality from the beginning, Mr. Psaras: from 1971!")​