The Sun Made of Water

[Gunnland]

November 2010
[November 1990]

The Mimirs' church in the village of Gunnrsund was grand, its high stone columns and arches resembling a primeval Gothic forest. The morning sun shone through the stained glass windows and bathed the people in a sea of light, while Father Matteus, the archdeacon or vicar forane, lifted the glittering gold Bible and began to read from Genesis 34: "If ye will be as we be, that every male of you be circumcised, then will we give our daughters unto you, and we will take your daughters to us, and we will dwell with you, and we will become one people..."

Geijer took care to tread softly on the plush carpet of the Hamilton Palace Westridge. Even after six or eight whiskys over the course of the evening, he could not sleep. A rage burned inside him, whether for the country or the woman that had failed him he did not know. His key unlocked Margarethe's door. Lying on her bed in a bathrobe, her hair up in curlers, watching television. Surprised. "Rick?" She could sense something was amiss, but did not suspect the danger she was in until he was next to her, duct-taping a sock into her mouth, her hand and feet together, then spryly vaulting to turn on the suite kitchenette's dishwaBagha and waBagha-dryer. A man vitalized by his impending crime; a young man again.​

"...and the young man deferred not to do the thing, because he had delight in Jacob's daughter: and he was more honourable than all the house of his father..."

In the next room over, Svava Pallsdatter could hear nothing (she had a pair of headphones on), typing an email to Gregor Samsonsson.

To: "Gregor Samsonsson Stoker"
[Add CC] [Add BCC]
Subject: SCO

Greg -- I hope the K-fort election is going well; of course I would be happy to help direct the newest incarnation of Spartacist Command Oelar. Afraid I have only gotten bad news about Himmelright's thugs so far, but we owe them a fight after all. When I come back I will see what I can do about getting some of the younger Spartacists together. Best, Svava. P.S. -- Your friend Rick Geijer has been acting odd.

"...and unto Hamor and unto Shechem his son hearkened all that went out of the gate of his city; and every male was circumcised, all that went out of the gate of his city..."

On the crowded Yungdrung Gutsak desk where he used to live a quiet life playing chess with Geijer and writing poems and newspaper articles, Samsonsson read Svava Pallsdatter's email seconds after it was sent. Rick always did have a thing for Margo. Never did forgive me, did he? Simultaneously he was on the phone with Haas: "Remember how we organized our Spartacists down in Oberschlesnitz? So that each cell commander only knew his group and his immediate superior, so the police could never crack it?"

Four men lay dead in the street with tincloth jackets with the Spartacist insignia: an "S" inside two concentric circles, one broken to make a "C", the other an "O". Spartacist Command Oelar, the famous leftist militia group. But one, the policeman thought, did not look dead. When they hauled him in for 'enhanced interrogation', however, he could only produce the name of one more Spartacist. At this rate, they would never get the Batavians, or the smug literati like Stoker, who ran the show.​

"Hey, Karl? Hold on, I have Rick Geijer's wife on the other line. Should be quick."

It was not so quick, because Gregor had to pick the Geijer's daughter, Sarah Rikarthursdatter, up from school. Like every classroom, there was a cross above the blackboard. The teacher, whose name and patronymic he gathered were Kristin Jensdatter, was lecturing on the Gravplass family.

"The Gravplasses were part of the Lutheran minority that used to exist in Yungdrung Gutsak, and we always suspected of Franconian sympathies. Nonetheless, Soren Gravplass is to this day called the most brilliant rigpa of modern Oelarian history. But his great-grandson, Olf Vidkunsson, was the most controversial, and clearly a Franconian puppet..."​

"...and it came to pass on the third day, when they were sore, that two of the sons of Jacob, Simeon and Levi, Dinah's brethren, took each man his sword, and came upon the city boldly, and slew all the males. And they slew Hamor and Shechem his son with the edge of the sword, and took Dinah out of Shechem's house, and went out..."

"The Gravplass Betrayal! That's high school, Kristin? Christ. I have to go, we're on a house call."

He didn't elaborate and say it was a breakaway Eir militia unit, probably associated with the infamous Lion of the Sindhu, Terje Sigvarthursson Eir, the Lord Eir's son. There was proof that these Eirs had joined Himmelright's nationalist militia, and it was time to send a strong message. The Eirs, concerned with covering up Terje's misdeeds, would not retaliate. Lieutenant Viereskog hung up on his fiance (or ex-fiance, depending on who you asked). He scratched his three-day beard and opened his eyes. There were eight of them in flak jackets and helmets outside an apartment, all breathing heavily.

"Go."

Thud. Thud. Thud. Three knocks with the little battering ram knocked the door off its hinges, and then the eight shotguns poked inside with their searchlights like stiff arthritic octopus tentacles. There was no "Freeze!", no "Everybody down.", just blasts. Most tore through furniture and masonry, some through unarmed men with their hands in the air, a few through half-naked men who had the wherewithal to grab automatic pistols and start firing back. But none of them had a chance.

When it was all over, Robert Petursson was the first to see a clean-shaven man with a wavy blond combover, in what was now called Aren fashion, caked in blood on the floor. It might have been Viereskog's blood, so much drained from his face. There was a sinking sensation in his stomach. Terje Sigvarthursson. Oops.

 

[Confederal Republics]

November 2010

How the hell do I spin this right? It would, alas, likely require some explaining to do to drive home the fact that the Northern Council was not a monolithic alliance such as the EDF and its rivals. Indeed, to a large extent its shape was still undetermined and at least from the Cornavian perspective the intentions of its member states on occasion divergent from each other. At least that was how William Fenner saw it.

"Well, Mrs. Altvir, in the strictest sense - and I will be honest with you - the Northern Council is not a traditional military alliance", Fenner begun, then took a sip of a glass of water laid before him on the table, and decided to elaborate, "However, even running the risk of egoism, I'd say that it's also the Council's advantage. You see, what the Northern Council would offer would be more cohesive participation in the growing zone of Scanian markets, its growth particularly evident as the Batavian democratization has opened a new area for the market. In fact, the primary venue for the Northern Council is in peaceful socio-economic cooperation. This does not, however, exclude the possibility of security arrangements with the Commonwealth or the possibility of the Commonwealth contributing to the arrangement of such systems between the Oelarian State and our Northern Council partners."

Fenner gave a sympathetic smile and continued, "In fact, I'd hazard to guess that the EDF's status as a global actor could also render a disadvantage for a country such as yourself which places the priority on the homeland and its vicinity. Say, for instance, that a crisis requiring the attentions of the Federation and its members erupted in the Far East, in Himyar, take your pick and replace the aforementioned with any possible hotspot than you can think of."

A short pause for emphasis, and William Fenner continued again, "...then, how would fare the Oelarian people if there came a requirement for them to step into your defense for whichever reason? Of course, it works both ways. Oelar might well find faraway conflicts land on its door step."

The Minister of External Affairs hoped that he'd managed to drive his point home. Then again, it wasn't as if he was in a position to make long-term promises, what with next year bringing a possibly all-new Cabinet, but by 2011 it would be someone else's problem. He nodded at Mary Fieldman-Wilcox to take over.

The former chairwoman of the Chambers of Commerce and the only Minister in the Wainwright Cabinet not to hold a seat in Parliament begun, "As you are likely aware, one of our leading transportation companies Transcon Cornavia is already party to the Scangermanian Express Train Systems Alliance, which has been endowed with similar ideas, and though welcoming the concept we would suggest its eventual incorporation into the SETSA. However, as I understand the Oelarian State has already made inroads towards the SETSA earlier?"

"In any case", Fieldman-Wilcox continued, "I can tell you under the strictest confidence that the Commonwealth Cabinet is about to pressure Transcon Cornavia into joining in its Train Systems Alliance venture with the other companies party to the Intercantonal Railway System. If you are not familiar with the division of responsibility between the IRS and private operators, in our system the Commonwealth government runs the IRS and is in charge of maintaining railway and station infrastructure, while the private operators are franchised by the IRS to operate rolling stock in the railroads covered by the system."

"What matters in the context of these negotiations is that when we bring the entire IRS and the willing IRS companies into the SETSA, there's also the possibility for a broader base of funding for your mentioned project, whether or not it occurs in the context of the Train Systems Alliance. So yes, at a first glance I find your proposition agreeable, combined with the protections rendered upon Oelarian unique products and the possibility of reciprocal reductions in duties on behalf of the Commonwealth government affecting import from your nation to ours."

 

[Batavië]

November 2010

Karel Haas set down the telephone receiver as Samsson left to pick up the girl from school.

What was going on in Vepo headquarters? Haas poured himself a generous portion of his finest scotch to think more deeply. Now acting in two roles, Haas was not only a top and seasoned Vepo agent, he was also the Consul to Oelar. The fact that the Foreign Ministry didn't know that was not too out of the ordinary for Batavia's intelligence service. Supporting a leftist poet when Batavia was supposedly democratic was another. Even for Haas; an agent who followed orders and did not ask questions.

By the time Haas finished his drink he had made a personal decision to do a little bit of digging around. He went to the landline phone on his desk and dialled a number from memory. 'Connect me to Department 1125, please.'

The operator asked for him to hold, and Haas waited as the single-tone sounded in his ear. After a short wait a man somewhere in Vlaanderen answered the phone.

'With Van Pels.'

'With Haas.'

'What can I do for you, Consul?' The voice of Van Pels was just slightly sarcastic.

'I need you to run some tests for me. My handler has been...providing me with some rather odd directives as of late and I would like to know where he is getting his orders from. I have a feeling that Afdeling II (Department II: Foreign Intelligence) has more problems than it's admitting.'

Haas waited patiently as he heard Van Pels scribble some notes down onto a pad.

'Time frame?'

'Whenever you can. There is no rush at the moment, but should something occur I will be sure to inform you.'

'Right, take care of yourself, Haas. I'll see what I can find.'

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

Contentious election or not, Knytlingsfort's militias gave up the seats for hundreds of gray-robed monks with rifles slung over their shoulders, who traded cigarettes with even more taciturn men in loose-fitting white garments with black diamonds on the shoulders. You do not brawl with killers.

In this way, everyone knew the rigpa and the Mimir were there, sitting beside each other at the funeral to pay respects to the Eir boy. Thorlakur Gunn wore his diadem and carried a gnarled wooden staff that enclosed an enormous black diamond at the top. The Abbot Mimir wore a gray robe, like his monks.

Like Rikarthur Gregorsson Geijer some hundreds of miles north, the power players of Knytlingsfort were suddenly overcome with remorse, which happens when even your memory has the power to shock and surprise you. Of course, Geijer did not fly back from Cornavia with Margarethe Hjovarthursdatter. And Svava Pallsdatter, young and gorgeous, and so who had endured not a few jokes from Geijer ("And perhaps we shall sell you off to the Cornavians in exchange for a trade deal, Svava") did not expect it was her much older friend who had been the victim of sexual violence. And Margarethe herself, like so many victims, could not believe what had been done, and even blamed herself for the affection she always knew was there. Like Rikarthur Gregorsson Geijer some hundreds of miles north, the power players of Knytlingsfort were suddenly overcome with remorse.

And not just Sigvarthur Sigvarthursson, the Lord Eir who had lost his heir. Lieutenant Viereskog minded his step. Even Himmelright was silent. And Stoker was nowhere to be seen, some miscue with the Batavians, perhaps, to be sorted out back in Yungdrung Gutsak.

A reflecting pool sits in front of the cathedral in Knytlingsfort, so that on calm days the slightest ripples turn the rays of the sun into a thousand white birds flocking to the stars. These were calm days, while the rigpa and the Mimir were among the people of Knytlingsfort. You do not brawl with killers, nor do you brawl with the choosers of the slain.

 

[Großlausitz]

November 2010

„Was für eine Saurei!“ – „What a mess“ – This had been Ella Koch’s first exclaimation when she finally received the ‘scene images’ of the future lord Eir’s untimely demise via a generously bribed source. Senior LND agent Koch was at the helm of a small team of Franconian intelligence operatives in Knýtlingsfort in charge of observing the ongoing disputes between the parties. Due to her success with tailing Geijr several days ago, her boss Valerian Poller, chief of security at the embassy, sent her to the small town carrying the name of her home country’s ruling dynasty. You could complain a lot about politicians, but at home they didn’t shoot each other during a campaign, squad chief Ella Koch mused. Nevertheless, she almost absent-mindedly eyeballed her teammates’ heavy equipment. If necessary, Franken’s secret services had the Reichssicherheitsrat’s confidential ok to resort to wetwork in Olear. That was an aspect of her mission Koch didn’t like to think about and she was very glad the two MAD – Military Intelligence – roughnecks nicknamed Ernie and Bert were her squad’s snipers. For now their job was to collect some more data, which could be exploited to exercise pressure on unwilling assets in the Knýtlingsfort election campaign.

Keeping in mind the particular situation in Olear, the delegations, who were to visit the Catholic Schools selected for support from Franken, were joined by especially fierce Catholics. Or at least it seemed so to naïve observers. Basically the LND had a couple of operatives, who were specially trained for deployment in Catholic Church environments. They could perfectly blend in with a Catholic crowd or even assume the guise of a Catholic priest. To create confusion amongst counter-intelligence, those agents were four ones among sixteen Catholic education experts, who were ‘ordinary’ LND operatives. The latter had been told to act clumsily and blow their cover on purpose if necessary. The four experts were sent to four schools, which the LND deemed to be of extraordinary strategic importance.
​

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

Some days ago.

"It looks like there are a bunch of Uroduah out there!" Grinning broadly in trademark fashion was Prime Minister Roerich referring to the robed warriors that had descended upon the streets of Knytlingsfort, the Sword Brothers and the Lord Rigpa's Einherjar. None of the other men were smiling; the Mimir was stonefaced, the rigpa tired and weighed down by his diade, the Lord Bishop concerned, the Lord Eir grieving the loss of his son, Viereskog wondering if he would leave the meeting in the Eir's fastness alive. The great lords assembled would go to Terje Sigvarthursson's funeral the following day; it was the police lieutenant's first meeting with Lord Eir since the accidental slaying of his son.

"So we have a mess." Worse, Roerich was thinking, a modern election superimposed on ancient rivalries. "I have looked over the books with the rigpa and we have decided to proceed with strength to prevent the succession crisis from going violent. Lord Bishop...?"

Zebulon of Karlljon adjusted his gaze.

"...It is the will of the rigpa that there will be a new Apostolic Vicar in Knytlingsfort, Father Matteus, now of Gunnrsund. The Sword Brothers will take control of the vicariate for at least one year to restore order. For your cooperation, I am prepared to the lion's share..." A clever pun on the bishop's hometown, that. "...of the Franconian money. Lord Eir..."

Sigvarthur Sigvarthursson Eir raised two sunken, dead eyes.

"...there is an ancient right whereby your Lord Rigpa shall be entrusted with the protection of your household to allow you the proper time to mourn your son. I shall personally oversee an Integrated Command to coordinate Eir forces, Transport Security Forces, Knytlingsfort Police, and the Einherjar. Lieutenant Viereskog..."

Robert Petursson tried to look confident and strong.

"...I have recommended you for a transfer to the Transport Security Forces in Yungdrung Gutsak. It is a transfer I strongly suggest you take."

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

"Welcome. I am glad you were able to come alone. I have just taken charge here and the presence of some of my less... completely supportive colleagues would be unwelcome." Ella Koch smiled in response to Matteus, who was standing in his floor-length gray Mimirs' robe outside the St. Balthazar School, smiling graciously and speaking quietly. "No doubt you know I am to be made Vicar, and that the Schwertbrüderorden are to be put in effective control of the borderlands and the entire east of

You must be registered for see links

. For you to know this, you must be either LND or have very good LND people with you. You ought to have some fun. All of our national mysteries are here."

As if on cue, two stern-looking men in white jackets with black diamond insignias on the epaulets walked by on the sidewalk and surveyed the pair.

Matteus waved silently at the men, who soon passed. "Einherjar. Elite mountain troops who have served the rigpas since the time of the first Gravplass. The first ones, I believe, were foreign legionnaires who saw service with Franken in the early 1800s. They are unmatched in power and the reason the rigpas govern the Heavenly Kingdom..." They turned a corner into an alcove in the stone wall, and Matteus handed Koch a black mantilla. "...we are here to remind them that none rule as king here but Jesus. Your head covering, Frau Koch." He smiled, pulling a small submachine gun out from the backside of his robes and laying it neatly in a stack of several. "No guns in the chapel's sanctuary."

They sat in the back row of a surprisingly simple chapel, by European Catholic standards. Well-carved wooden pews and plainly cut gothic pillars flanked the nave's central aisle that led to a bare stone altar. "Simple sanctuaries. The Mimirs took a cue from the Franciscans and the Cistercians," Matteus explained, "But you will want to know what will happen here now that several thousand troops from various militias, religious paramilitaries, and the government are here. Some violence that the Einherjar and my fellow Schwertbrüder will handle, mostly, under my direction. I expect my friend Gregor Samsonsson Stoker will win the election, but it is not so important except as a provincial lead-up to the real succession crisis. If Stoker wins, there will be the possibility of a progressive, modern rigpa. If not, there won't. Greg might do good things for Knytlingsfort. For rigpa, many like myself think not."

A small red LED flashed a few times under his robe. "Excuse me for one minute, Frau Koch." He pushed the heavy wooden doors of the chapel outwards, leaving the Franconian emissary alone.

It was Geijer.

Perhaps because he forgot he had taken Ella Koch for a LND agent, Fr. Matteus did not take precautions to stop her from overhearing his hushed, urgent whispers and the less distinct electronically amplified voice of Rikarthur Gregorsson in the receiver.

"Rick! What in the unknown name have you done?"

"I am in Issverth. Does Halvbefaren know? Does Lord Alvitr know?"​

"As far as I can tell, Margarethe Hjovarthursdatter has told no one anything."

"I am going to your old house on Gunnrsund just in case. For a time."​

"Rick... You can't run from what you have done."

"Margo and Svava Pallsdatter got on a plane to Derjiste this morning. I can't go, but it would be good for Greg if you went. Halvbefaren asked me."​

"There are more important things than Stoker getting elected right now."

Like what? Her ear to the door, Ella wondered what they were talking about. What happened between Geijer and Alvitr? A serious disagreement, over what? But that couldn't be the case. He had 'done' something, clearly something wrong.

"Like my soul."​

"You must repent, Rick. Margarethe can lie to herself, but does not profit you to lie to God."

"And Derjiste?"​

"I will send this man Viereskog, another guy in a lot of trouble who needs to get out of town and redeem himself."

"I am not sure there is any redemption, Father."​

"Who knows, Rick. Who knows?"

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

The rigpa did not touch computers, so a very tired Roerich was typing the letter late into the night. Thorlakur Feargusson would occasionally nod off to sleep in his chair, and Niels Niklausson would have to wake him up to continue on dictating his archaic anachronisms, which looked doubly old-fashioned in an email.

Dear Jakob, Prinzregent &c., von Franken,

Thank you for receiving my servant Margarethe Hjovarthursdatter some days ago. I hope you will join your father Alfred Rex &c. when he comes to Yungdrung Gutsak this coming month.

I write with a special invitation because I wish to revive our ancient Doom that holds that the Knytling Dukes of Schlesnitz hold a parallel peerage as Margraves of Oberschlesnitz, and are entitled to join the Great Council of Lords and delibertate upon the next Lord Rigpa of Yungdrung Gutsak which, I trust you realize, is my current office, and one I will relinquish upon my 80th birthday.

Not to bore you with a history lesson, but the peerage has been defunct for some years, especially as the Franconian Duchy of Schlesnitz took on the more important parallel role as a Crown Duchy of Franken. The Margravate was formally abolished by my predecessor, (LII Lord Rigpa &c.) Ludvig Karlsson Skjolden, in 1947, because of your grandfather's crucial support for the rigpa previous, (LI Lord Rigpa &c.) Ulf Vidkunsson Gravplass, and the Great War in general.

Unfortunately, we rigpas only have the power to interpret the Doom, not revise it, and Ludvig Karlsson was not in his right to strip you of your ancestral office. So while your father Alfred was not invited to what became my election in 1960, you are invited now, in 2010, to choose the next rigpa. (The mechanics of the system are in small print...)

Your fellow permanent Lord Councilors are, in no particular order: 1. Lord Margrave Sigvarthur Sigvarthursson Eir, 2. my cousin the Lord Margrave Pall Yvosson Gunn, 3. Lord Margrave Hjovarthur Einarsson Alvitr, 4. the Lord Provost, the Margrave Jens Yvosson Halfbevaren (Pall Yvosson's adopted half-brother, head of the Capitollium), 5. Lord Bishop Zebulon of Karlljon, and 6. the Lord Abbot Mimir.

I have taken the liberty of reorganizing the electoral system, which will be announced in the days to come, but so you know:

We await the election of the mayor in the Knýtlingsfort Riding, who will be elevated to the ancient title Lord Reeve of Knytlingsfort, which will either be Gregor Samsonsson Stoker or Arthur Arthursson Himmelright. The Lord Reeve of the Issverth Skipriding is Gustav Ludvigsson Skjolden.

We also await the election of the four Lord Councilors from the farthings of Yundrung Gutsak: two Burgraves from Skiringssal and Dyrehaven (your friend Margarethe Hjovarthursdatter Alvitr is standing for Skiringssal) and two Lord Tjaldlungsgraves of Holar and Skalholt.

If you have not been counting, you are one of 13 electors. 6 are elected by the people (5 have yet to be elected), and 7 are not. (4 of the 7 are hereditary including yours, 2 ecclesiastic, and 1 scholarly).

Should you accept, which I remind you is the ancient duty of your ancestors, I only counsel you that the Lord Rigpa is not a political office like others, but the guardianship of a sacred place in our Christian faith. I am not a quotidian political actor, but a silent keeper of the King's reeve and judge-interpreter of the Doom in the Heavenly Kingdom.

Should you refuse, I will be disappointed. Sacred traditions are not to be taken lightly, as my friend Rikarthur Gregorsson Geijer tells me you know.

I hope to see you then, in good health. Yours., until the Geirtrae withers to ash,


T. F. Gunn, LIII, Lord Rigpa &c.
rec. N. N. Roerich, Prime Minister

 

[Großlausitz]

November 2010 – near St. Balthazar School in Knýtlingsfort
A curious thought crossed Ella Koch’s mind. If he wasn’t a monk… What a handsome man! Without her companion noticing, she quickly shook off this hardly appropriate thought. Instead she focused on Matteus’ explanations. “They remind me of the royal guards at home, Father. And I can recall their role as mercenaries was mentioned in history at my grammar school.”, she murmured when they passed the Einherjars. “The Königlichen Garden also perform the double role of elite force and bodyguards for the royal family.”
Due to the earnest demeanor of Father Matteus she suppressed a grin when he put down his machine gun. Even the Order of the Sword had adjusted to these modern times. Without any hint of awkwardness Koch pulled a handy automatic pistol out of her jacket, put it next to the clergyman’s own and took the mantilla as requested. The senior LND agent was quite sure Matteus recognized the trademark of the Königliche Waffenmanufaktur, whose handweapons division KWM Waffe was a well-established trademark in Germania.
Respecting the piety of the location she quietly followed her host into the chapel. As a born and bred Lutheran Ella Koch was used to a lack of clerical art and adornment, but compared to her soberly adorned home town church this was an almost barren place. Koch wasn’t overly religious, since she failed to grasp the sheer concept of an almighty deity. Didn’t religion require the ingenuity of artists? This was a question she couldn’t answer. Under other circumstances she would have considered asking Father Matteus. Instead of a perfect environment they were facing a succession crisis instead. Or a potential crisis Franken wanted to resolve for her own benefit. “Father Matteus, I believe your friend Stoker can consider himself lucky to have your friendship. Are you two friends? If so, will you tell me how we can help Mr Stoker?” What she didn’t tell her counterpart there was an old cliché about Olearian elections in Franken: First they proceed to submit their ballots, forget about them and fight over the electoral victory.
What the heck happened between the foreign minister and the respected scholar Geijer?! Ella Koch wondered once more. She made a mental note to check the compulsive LND and MAD database on Alvitr and Geijer. The senior agent had a suspicion: The source of conflict was something very, very privy. Otherwise Matteus and Geijer wouldn’t have ended their conversation in that gloomy way.

---
With sophisticated security solutions becoming increasingly available, the Crown, i.e. all departments of the civil government, the Privy Council and the Royal Household, embraced the use of modern communication channels for confidential matters. Thus the e-mail written by Roerich arrived via the black network, which was the highly-secured Crown Intranet. After a lengthy phone conference with Foreign Minister Beaumont and Ministerpresident Graf Solms, Prince Regent Jakob wrote an answer. Both Beaumont and Graf Solms approved of the Prinzregent accepting the honour. “To save us some future headaches, Your Royal Highness, please remind the Rigpa that you will take the peerage in your capacity as the Duke of Schlesnitz, not as the Prince Regent.”, Graf Solms had told him.

Your Highness,
I read your kind message both with great pleasure and great regret. Your upcoming resignation will deprive Scanogermania of an apt and moderate statesman and leader, whereas I look forward to celebrate your 80th birthday with my parents, my wife and my oldest son. While Sebastian is still learning as any youth of his age is required to do, he also needs to study the ways of political leadership like any Knýtling before him.
Without further ado, I’d like to accept your offer to revive the Margravate of Oberschlesnitz, as its very existence is a testimony to your and my predecessors’ wisdom. Centuries ago they realized that the power of a compromise can be far larger than the power of a decisive victory, if, oh indeed, if you negotiate prudently. The Margravate was and is an excellent creation.
Please note that I’m only able to re-connect the title of Duke of Schlesnitz to the Margravate under one important condition: The Margravate will be tied to Schlesnitz and not the kingly crown. For constitutional reasons the Sovereign of Franken will never be subordinate to any other ruler, be it only ceremonially. In a nutshell, I’ll accept the peerage in my capacity as the Duke of Schlesnitz and Crown Prince of Franken.
May the Lord bless you and your rule.
Jakob Dux
Jakob von Franken, SKH Prinregent von Franken, Herzog von Schlesnitz et cetera

The Prince Regent was quite satisfied with the wording of his e-mail, read it once again nonetheless and finally clicked on “send”.​

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

Frankenstein, Thorlakur's brothers had called it when they went off to join the resistance against the Oelarian puppet state during the Great War. The joke worked from the Oelarian perspective because it was as if one Oelarian family, the Knýtlings, had gone off and amalgamated themselves into an empire and a modern state, creating a monster. During a time of instability in the late 1930s, it looked like that monster would absorb Olmolungring in the name of an "Alliance". A time of instability. Is this time of instability so different now?

The rigpa was dark and brooding, worried. When he remembered his childhood, he was not convinced Franken was not Frankenstein any longer. We are always the last ones to know who we really are. But a man needed to forgive, and hope. What else is there?

With his disarming smile and characteristic jocularity, Niels Niklausson smiled. "Thorlakur Feargusson, Jakob von Franken called you a statesman!"

"Be patient with him, Prime Minister. Being a statesman is, after all, my sidejob." The old rigpa was not entirely devoid of charm himself.

Dear Jakob Dux, Herzog &c., von Franken,

I am pleased by your message. I shall tell you an old story because this is what old men do, but briefly, because I know that young men do far more than listen to old stories.

In a forgotten age of history, long before the Knýtlings took their throne in the bloody manner they did from the Babenbergs (another Sebastian, was he not?), your ancestors and mine slew a rigpa who dared call himself a king. In a toast after a bloody battle and subsequent parricide, Gunnr raised a flagon of ale or mead, nobdoy is quite sure, and declared "There shall be no King above these mountains but Christ the King." Ever since no rigpa has been confused with a king, but in our way of thinking we have a king nonetheless. Let us say, perhaps, that our Doom has kept to the idealistic interpretation of Gunnr's toast. And so it would be doubly imprudent for you to accept the margravate of your grandfathers except as dux. To become a king is an apostasy in the dead eyes of the Doom, and so I cannot your father Alfred Rex, and should I live to see your ascendancy I will resort to writing your son Sebastian Semidux.

As a serious parting note, the obiter dictum of my last letter ought to be restated with greater clarity. The last time a Knýtling came to Yungdrung Gutsak to choose the rigpa, in the Year of Our Lord 1935, he chose quite wrongly, and the world plunged into war. I was five years old. The people of Oelar and Europe remember this in their hearts. You shall, however, have my words of support behind you -- Who are we to be if we do not believe in the redemption of men and nations, even dominions victorious? -- but I counsel you to choose wisely, to be a judge of Christian character rather than strategic political gain. I am no man of the world, but I am not so naïve as to think you are not surrounded by shrewd and worldly advisers. Hearken not to lies, saith the Proverbs. In trying times of yore we lashed the world with a scourge of whips; let us take care not to unleash a scourge of scorpions.

It is strange to remember such things ancient and not so ancient, Jakob, but the Word must ever be made strange if it is to touch the hearts of men. When Christ becomes in the slightest way ordinary to us, quoth the Old Gravplass, we are at that moment nothing but baptized pagans.

I hope to meet you then, in friendship. Yours., until the Geirtrae withers to ash,


T. F. Gunn Lictor Lictoris, LIII, Lord Rigpa &c.
rec. N. N. Roerich Vicarius, Prime Minister


P.S.: Although Niels Niklausson disapproves of an old man's habits, I would add that my nephew Séamus Vilhjálmsson has a quite beautiful daughter, Carla Seumasdatter, his youngest, who I believe is Sebastian's age or thereabouts. You may tell him the long rail trip to our musty capital may not be all for naught. But watch out for Seaumas, who is no less jealous than my old coot of a brother, God rest his soul.

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

Incidentally, Father Matteus did not tie the KWM pistol and Ella Koch to the LND instinctively. You must protect yourself in a city like this. Oelarians were sophisticated in some ways, but not in others. What he did realize was that Koch was working for someone in the Franconian government. But he only realized this when he came back inside the chapel and she asked about Stoker: “Will you tell me how we can help Mr. Stoker?”

And so he underestimated her, smiling. "Frau Koch, if you are ever under cover and do not want to be taken for a Franconian, remember to call him Gregor Samsonsson. Nobody is called 'Mister' here. We tack on your father's name and either '-sson' or '-datter' instead."

"The arrival of the Einherjar and my Order will make Knýtlingsfort secure. If the people do not have to fear the Eir militias, they will not vote for Himmelright. Stoker will win."

He stood up and looked out of one of the windows. St. Balthazar's looked out over a poor shanty neighborhood on the outskirts of town, with unpaved, gloomy-looking mud streets stretching up into the hills, with street vendors selling food and scraps of junk huddled around trashcan fires.

"Order and a modernizing economy will do us good. Stoker is right. This city has been an embarrassment to our country for too long."

A peregrine falcon soared above the sordid scene, but a helicopter flying somewhere overhead made it sound like it was propelled by rotors like the war machine.

If Franken supports Stoker, what am I doing? Is this Koch woman influential enough to do anything about that. Attractive enough, for sure.

Deep in thought, Matteus came around as if out of a trance, looking at Koch. "Yes, Stoker will win. But his ambitions are greater than that. It is an open secret that the rigpa will step down this month. We will have to see if we remain friends at that time..." Matteus smiled roguishly. "It will be Halvbefaren, the Sarkonist-Conservative, Alvitr, the Septentrionalist-Progressive brother of the foreign minister, or Stoker, the socialist..."

He wondered if he was exaggerating, or why he was being so candid. He kind of liked this Koch, she was straightforward and kind-looking, despite her obviously toughened professional exterior.

"...Do you want another Kryobaijan on your northern border?"

If Franken supports Stoker nevertheless, will I see this woman again? Matteus shrugged genially. "It is complicated. But if we find ourselves at cross-purposes, Fraulein, you will have to offer me some compensation for divulging state secrets. Let's see if she's married. Mimir celibacy could be overlooked. In wartime, for example.

 

[Confederal Republics]

November 2010

Incidentally, the positions of the Second Public Relations Attaché and the Second Deputy Military Attaché of any given Commonwealth embassy had actually very little to do with Public Relations or the functions usually accorded to the office of the military attaché. To anyone inside of the embassy, this was usually a given: The first PR Attaché could manage his job of typing press briefings, scheduling interviews for the ambassador and maintaining relations with the host country's press pretty well with the aid of a single clerk, and the military attaché already had a First Deputy as well as technical staff and any embassy's standard complement of Marines at his disposal.

As it happened, these seemingly useless posts were always filled because they could give their holders a legitimate function of being part of the embassy staff, being that their actual roles could not be exactly disclosed to the public. Indeed, Second Public Relations Attaché Colton Standish also occupied the position of the Yungdrung Gutsak Station Chief for the Commonwealth Intelligence Service, while Second Deputy Military Attaché Major (Army.) Neil Clark occupied an equivalent function with MoD Department of Military Intelligence.

Major Clark was an oddly amicable fellow for a military officer, and easy to work with. At least easier than that asshole of a Marine Cairns House had last sent to head up Military Intelligence in Oelar. Though, the man had at least been a competent asshole, given that Standish heard that he now worked with some special assignment under Major General Henriksen himself. Still, given what Claridge House had just detailed as his operational instructions in the latest encrypted cable he was glad to have someone he could work with on his side.

With the power struggle growing, Oelar had become a hot potato in the intelligence and foreign affairs community back in Southport-on-Sea, particularly after the meeting between Fenner and Altvir as part of the latter's tour. Of course, it had never been exactly ignored, given Cornavian intelligence's past involvement in the country and the way the place had more often than not seen by the Cornavians: Brent Anderson, who had headed the Intelligence Service between 1971 and 1976, had once said that if you struck a conversation with a random person in this city, the said person was far more likely to be a foreign spy than a completely normal citizen. That jape had been well remembered and appreciated by trainers at Fort Liberty, which in addition to hosting the headquarters of the Army Special Forces trained all foreign case officers of both CIS and DMI in the tradecraft before they were sent abroad.

The Oelarian State seemed to be awfully close to the EDF but Claridge House believed that it was just a matter of giving the right incentive. The cables had been clear on that: The primary directive for Standish was to see what could be done to back a faction at least somewhat receptive to the Commonwealth's brand of regional cooperation, and then to see what could be done to sway that faction in favor of the Commonwealth and its Northern Council partners. The last thing Southport-on-Sea wanted to see in Oelar was that leftist bugger Stoker or anyone else in charge. Indeed, the Foreign Minister's brother seemed to be the likely candidate to go for but, alas, for the Altvir family hanging perilously close to the EDF.

What interested Colton Standish was that Southport-on-Sea had specifically branded this a joint operation between the civil and military intelligence components of Cornavian presence in Oelar. Within the division of powers between the CIS and DMI, Standish would be empowered to use his staff of officers under diplomatic and non-official covers and their subsequent contacts to engage in intelligence-gathering, relations work, psychological warfare and pretty much everything that could be used to influence the election without the chance that people would wind up dead. Because that was a job for Military Intelligence to do. Standish hoped that it wouldn't come to that, particularly since that would mean that he'd done his job badly.

 

[Gunnland]

December 2010

The succession rumored for later that month was now an open secret in the capital. These rumors often included the name of the LIV Lord Rigpa, "Isleifur Christian Hjovarthursson Alvitr". Respected, well-mannered, and just modern enough to generate excitement among the progressives.

But Christian did not impress Jens Yvosson. It took more than the name to be a Christian. Looking out of the Belfry at the snow-covered rooftops of Yungdrung Gutsak, Jens Yvosson Halvbefaren was worried. The powerful Alvitrs had positioned themselves well. The death of Terje Sigvarthursson Eir ruled out an Eir challenge. And who am I for the Gunns? A bastard son.

The circumstances of his birth ("Halv-" as a surname prefix in Olmolungring meant "half" and signified bastardy) has only been a challenge to Jens Yvosson. Barred from the inheritance of the clan peerage that went to his younger half-brother Páll Yvosson (most people didn't realize Páll was younger), Jens Yvosson had worked hard, studying the great philosopher Gravplass at the Capitollium and becoming a force in the Academy. Campanile operatives around the world reported to him. He was one of the most powerful men in Oelar. For what? To get beat by Christian Hjovarthursson. Who had it all handed to him.

It was not his way to go down without a fight.

The cable sent to his man currently in Southport-on-Sea went off unencrypted, on purpose.

Fergus Ulfsson -- Here's hoping the conference with V. V. Perseifur is going well. You have no doubt heard about Geijer. He will not be attending and is in hiding, for now, in Gunnrsund. The son of a bitch... old Yvo would have been proud!

Change of plans -- We will stand V. V. Perseifur for the Hólar council seat. Leak that to the CIS or DMI so they can make contact. Standish and Clark here should know to support the Sarconist right-wing and make good friends with V.V.P. while he is running in Hólar. if they haven't seen the Alvitrs' true colors already. You might remind them.

Since Geijer screwed his job -- literally -- it will fall on you to talk to the Cornavians. Remind them we are the bulwark against an EDF takeover. Start a conversation with them. What about inviting the LFS in to balance out the EDF, and present a Cornavian-Oelarian alliance as a "middle way"? That's the Sarconist way to do things. Should I write my friend Atreifur Tomasson Aethur at our mission in Oikawa?

Tell me where they stand. We can't afford to lose friends we should rightly have. Good luck. Until the Geitrae withers. -- J.Y.H.

Halvbefaren sat back after sending the message. It would have been a better job for Rikarthur Gregorsson. F. U. Gunnr lived up to all the jokes made about his initials. Some diplomat. A brusque and cynical man, Feargus Ulfsson pushed the limits of being blunt. In fact, most people thought he was a total ass.

 

[Großlausitz]

November 2010

Vater Matteus’ stern reminder about Oerlian nomenclature made Ella Koch blush, since she should have known better. “But of course, Vater Matteus. Our support for Stoker, excuse me, Gregor Samssonson is due to one simple fact. Compared to Himmelright he is a politically closer to our desired partner in business in your capital. Though, if a friend develops funny ideas which we cannot support, we have ways to dispose of him. Anyway, money and tacit protection has pulled the Kryobaijani tiger’s teeth for now. Craving for a companion and friend who has the very same political convictions like oneself is both understandable and foolish. The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, has graced us with a free will to choose our own point of view. Isn’t it ironic how this God-given freedom has caused so much distress and conflict among humankind?!”

The LND agent decided to go on playing with slightly more open cards. “Forgive my naïve inquiry, Father Matteus. Anyway, I want to reward your implicit curiosity. Yes, my employer is Franconian and I happen to be a member of the middle management with a direct connection to the Top Management. With you being an aspiring part of your order’s top management I wonder whether you could, ahem, show me around a little more?”

Using the probably oldest trick in the book of espionage, Ella Koch gave Vater Matteus a very convincing smile and flaunted her ring-less right hand. Whereas the 29-year-old brunette, whose blue-green eyes always fascinated men, was certainly a prodigy in the intelligence business, Koch wasn’t perfect yet. What she neglected to ponder was that Vater Matteus would try to use a very similar technique to extract some intelligence from her too. Nonetheless, the upcoming night promised to be interesting.

---

While the Oelarians considered the Knýtling dynasty a sometimes wayward scion, the royal house’s tradition tended to think of their Northern neighbours as the curious cousins. If an Oelarian nobleman had called the Knýtlings an Oelarian house in the presence of Prince Regent Jakob, he would have received a polite and non-committal reply. In fact the Knýtlings preferred to emphasize their close relationship to the other Nordic house, the Nareaths, and the three Knýtling emperors.

Dear Thorlakur Gunn, Lord Rigpa et cetera,

thank you for the insights into the shared history of our two home countries. Whereas I sadly do not have as much time to delve in history books and research as during my youth, I’m always eager to expand my knowledge and learn about new perspectives on historical events.

Please rest assured I will see to my duties and obligations as Margrave of Oberschlesien as carefully as I steward my father’s country as his co-ruler. And I will ensure that my son Sebastian will embrace these virtues, too. I believe he will be delighted to have some appropriate company of his age.

Could you do me another favour and make arrangements that Sebastian may pay a visit to the Capitollium? It won’t be too long until he leaves us for university and the Capitollium has an excellent academic reputation in Franken.
With best and kindest regards,

Jakob Dux

Jakob von Franken, SKH Prinzregent von Franken, Herzog von Schlesnitz et cetera

 

[Gunnland]

November 2010

"You raise a subtle theological point. We can glean from Augustine that grace is freedom. Often missed by my students, who believe man's free will is at odds with some analogously-constituted 'will' of God."

Fr. Matteus and Koch (who remembered Oelarian priests dropped their surnames) were walking through the hallways of St. Balthazar's. The monk was suspecting that he was beginning to realize the depths of the Franconian plan. If the Franconians support Stoker and it comes down to a contest between the frontrunners, Halvbefaren and Alvitr, they may be able to convince Gregor Samsonsson to support Alvitr. Perhaps that would be Jakob von Franken's ultimate goal when he came to Yungdrung Gutsak in a few weeks. That would not make the Sword Brothers very happy; he would have to write the Abbot Mimir. Meanwhile, Koch was asking to be shown around more. Did she mean the school? Presumably not, he thought, spying her bare left ring finger.

Then, he was struck with a plan.

"There is someone I would like you to meet." How could she refuse? Soon he was opening the back door of a black FMW sedan being driven by one of his fellow Sword Brothers. "You know, our old men who remember the Great War still say all of these horrible things about Franconians, Frau Koch, but I am pleased by the growing prospect our friendship in the coming years..." Did he forget to say, 'between our nations?' "...we have for so long been like estranged cousins, tired of the family feuds, content to raise an eyebrow at the other and go about our business."

He could tell Ella Koch did not like 'surprises', but there was the trustworthiness of being a priest. "You know Isleifur Christian, who perhaps will be our next rigpa, was a priest for a year before he left the Order to marry his wife Mariann..." He honestly didn't know where he was going with that.

The car passed a guardhouse and gate into one of the secure gated business districts of Knytlingsfort. Koch recognized Gregor Samsonsson Stoker (from her file photographs) sitting outside the little cafe, who waved enthusiastically to the handsome gray-robed monk escorting her towards him.

 

[Großlausitz]

November 2010

“You see, Fr. Matteus, forming coalitions is common way of securing power in Germania’s several parliamentary democracies. And a coalition always requires both partners to make more or less pleasant compromises. Though I guess it’s somewhat obvious the smaller partner will have to cede more. In the end of the day a coalition will yield benefits for its members, provided they don’t screw with their partner too harshly”, Ella Koch explained during their ride through town, as she realized that the idea of a permanent coalition was exotic to the Oelarians.

“Alas, those old men are still around in Franken, too. This is one of the downsides of the improving longevity of mankind. The Top Management is very interested in putting 21st century relations between Oelar and Franken on a firm and stable base,” the senior agent commented, “Islei, …, Isleifur Christian, please excuse my troubles with pronouncing some of your names, was a priest once? Abroad a lot of people will be surprised to see a married Rigpa’s ascension, I surmise. Similar to the Rigpa the King of Franken is ‘summus episcopus’ of the Lutheran Church, but different from your head of state ours focuses on political affairs of state.”

“Gregor Samssonson, I presume,” she greeted Stoker politely, “My name is Ella Koch and I’m delighted to meet you, at last. The company I’m working for cares a lot about your political future in Knýtlingsfort. We’re eager to help you turning this into a very prosperous future.” Koch unbuttoned her elegant orange Duffle coat, as the November sun cheerfully illuminated the business district. Coincidently it was made from Oelarian produced fabrics.

Several hundred kilometres south-east of Knýtlingsfort the Royal Household’s legal counsels were busy wrapping up the documents for the royal writ announcing the resurrection of the old title of Oberschlesnitz and declaring it part of the titles of the heir to the throne. Appropriately the writ would be counter-signed by Ministerpresident Graf Solms himself.​

 

[Confederal Republics]

November 2010

12/5/2010
FM:HQCIS/OPDIR OLR
TO:CSCIS OLR IMMEDIATE, CODMI OLR IMMEDIATE
SUBJECT:FWD: DAEDALUS INTERCEPT/OLR

SECRET - EYES ONLY

FORWARDING JEIC DEADALUS INTERCEPT 12/5/2010/TEL6743:
Fergus Ulfsson -- Here's hoping the conference with V. V. Perseifur is going well. You have no doubt heard about Geijer. He will not be attending and is in hiding, for now, in Gunnrsund. The son of a bitch... old Yvo would have been proud!

Change of plans -- We will stand V. V. Perseifur for the Hólar council seat. Leak that to the CIS or DMI so they can make contact. Standish and Clark here should know to support the Sarconist right-wing and make good friends with V.V.P. while he is running in Hólar. if they haven't seen the Alvitrs' true colors already. You might remind them.

Since Geijer screwed his job -- literally -- it will fall on you to talk to the Cornavians. Remind them we are the bulwark against an EDF takeover. Start a conversation with them. What about inviting the LFS in to balance out the EDF, and present a Cornavian-Oelarian alliance as a "middle way"? That's the Sarconist way to do things. Should I write my friend Atreifur Tomasson Aethur at our mission in Oikawa?

Tell me where they stand. We can't afford to lose friends we should rightly have. Good luck. Until the Geitrae withers. -- J.Y.H.

* * *

The Oelarian Desk has identified the location of message recipient - presumed identity Fergus Ulfsson Gunnr - in Greater Southport area and has begun efforts to authenticate the message and if necessary contact the recipient. The presence of a person of interest in Commonwealth territory provides the OPDIR with a window of opportunity in establishing contact under conditions controllable against third party espionage.

Chief of Station will report back on conditions with development. Chief of Station will not undertake psychological or political measures without clearance from OPDIR in regards to V.V.P&co. Primary operational objective continues to be the assessment of viable target of Cornavian influence. INTDIR to assess situation concerning Altvir, V.V.P and J.Y.H. However, DEA is of the opinion that association with Altvir may be inviable based on continuing EDF ties as evidenced by meeting with Fenner.

 

[Mergogne]

December 2010
Offices of the Intersectionalist Party of Kryobaijan, People's 9th Arsenal
Waterfront District, Derjiste
State of Orstarkh
Kryobaijan

It is very important to choose your battles carefully...

Director of Foreign Affairs Vadim Nodishenko stood before a red carpet and a phalanx of KPRG honor guards, on the wide steps of the IPK headquarters. Snow crystals skimmed across the crimson masonry of the sprawling brick building, as a stiff winter breeze blew in from the Bay of Orstarkh. As was typical for historically significant armories, the People's 9th Arsenal had just gained new pertinence as a political edifice — it had recently been converted into the IPK's national nerve center. The smiling faces of Party Chairman Genrikh Artov and other IPK officials beamed down from massive banners, which beat against the walls of the compound as they fluttered in the wind. Some of those featured officials now huddled next to Nodishenko in the cold, waiting for the Oelarian motorcade to arrive from their fêted welcome at Derjiste International.

Nodishenko was one of the most powerful individuals in the USSK, but the truth was that he often felt quite weak. Kryobaijan was not the all-consuming red menace that loomed in the Sarmatian or Fränkischer media. It was true that the Sleeping Yak was finally stirring from decades of ethnic division, economic stagnancy, and bureaucratic corruption, but the revolutions of late had still left it reeling. The bitter maritime cold of Derjiste was a welcomed hardship when compared to the roaming Communist Party militias and Jovarin Brigades of the eastern Kryobaijani cities, such as the embattled Vradlan stronghold of Tirovgrad. And the troubles posed by the tribal-political conflicts paled in comparison to the recent economic turbulence caused by freeing the Kryobaijani markets. Despite this, Nodishenko knew that something warm and magnificent was on the horizon. He felt weak, but hopeful.

How brightly the future now shined!

So entered Genrikh Artov, the former Boris Fyodorovich Endowed Chair of Sociology and Political Science at the University of Kryobaijan. To wildly popular acclaim, he bore the standard of Revolutionary Intersectionalism — the latest product of socialist thought in the USSK's academic circles. The new doctrine advocated a "broadening of the Struggle" to include the realms of ethnic, religious, and sexual oppression, while diminishing the orthodox communist emphasis on class as the primary matrix of domination in society. Artov declared the decaying and unpopular Kryobaijani Communist Party a reactionary institution, and attached himself to a coup led dissatisfied generals in the Kryobaijani People's Army. After taking power, he initiated a massive campaign of economic liberalization, ethnic reconciliation, and political purging. Despite the upheaval, the country had been swept into a fervor of positive change. Tribal tensions were finally being confronted, for better or for worse. Years of lost economic growth were being reclaimed with ever-increasing levels of FDIs and domestic productivity. The military was undergoing reorganization, Kryobaijani foreign policy was being reviewed, and political structures were reforming themselves. There was a charge in the air, as the Waking Yak arose to shake the snow from its fur.

While Artov himself couldn't be present to welcome the Oelarian delegation to Derjiste, he would have been thrilled by the opportunities presented at such a meeting. The Kryobaijani Party apparatus was not content with "socialism in one country" — Revolutionary Intersectionalism indeed called for a global revolution. But individuals such as Nodishenko, Kombayn Goronin, and other members of the Revolutionary Council served to temper these ideological impulses with a dose of realism. The USSK still wielded very limited regional agency — Kyiv and Oikawa could not be liberated any time soon. But perhaps the Lumbering Yak could exert just enough leverage, in just the right countries, to nudge Sarmatia (and Europe) down the path to Liberation. Sodom and Gomorroh weren't built in a day, after all.

Choose your battles very carefully indeed...

Maelstroms of snow whirled across the front courtyard of the 9th Arsenal, swept off of heaping dunes by a fresh gust of wind. A line of large black sedans soon pulled up in front of the 9th Arsenal – the Oelarian delegation was arriving.

 

[Gunnland]

November 30, 2010

Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid / the calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to guide them.

KNYTLINGSFORT

In their historical dialectics, Germanic Idealists of Franken and Wiese were philosophers of mediation, contradictory theses and antitheses resolved themselves at a higher level of synthesis. Soren Michaelsson Gravplass, the great Oelarian genius and a fierce critic of the Germanic Idealists, was a philosopher of contradictions, and except in the paradoxes of the religious, all the world's dialectics were a tale of infinite clash. Fr. Matteus thought this might shed some light on the day's diplomacy. No permanent coalitions indeed. Christ alone was the little child of Isaiah.

Sunday would be the second Sunday of Advent, Fr. Matteus remembered. The reading would be Isaiah 11, a chapter he knew by heart from years of lectio divina. Its words, deeply ingrained in his mind, came flooding into his head even as he sat between Ella Koch and his friend Gregor Samsonsson Stoker. A life spent in long meditation gave a man a two-track mind. Not by appearance shall he judge, nor by hearsay shall he decide / but he shall judge the poor with justice, and decide aright for the land’s afflicted.

"It's not quite The Spot..." Matteus was simultaneously meditating upon the scriptures and his barley stew. Stoker narrowed his eyes. "Quietly, Father. Quietly. I need to get elected in this town... Now, Ella...?" He turned to Koch. "She's Franconian, Greg." "Oh..." Stoker nodded. "I ought to have guessed. Your Tagzig is beautiful. Anyway, then, it is quite rare for rigpas and priests to be married here in Oelar. Stoker looked unsuspectingly at Matteus. "Not so for Sword Brothers of Mimir, unfortunately, eh, Matteus?"

The monk pretended to be lost in thought about something else. Koch and Stoker were talking about "security for the last week of the election", "unpaid campaign debts". Matteus overheard Stoker say, "We are desperate for help here, as you can tell. Perhaps this election will be the first step towards organizing an Intersectionalist Party." For the love of God, Matteus thought, smiling, he thinks she's from Kryobaijan! Which made him wonder how Viereskog was faring.

Politics made strange bedfellows. By appearing to support his socialist friend Stoker, Fr. Matteus thought he might be able to get the conservative Halvbefaren chosen as the next rigpa. The Franconians would appear to support Stoker, at least he thought, in order to get I.C.H. Alvitr elected. Meanwhile, the socialist poet and the monk would use Foreign Minister Alvitr through R. P. Viereskog in Kryobaijan against her own brother.

The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest / the lion shall eat hay like the ox. / The baby shall play by the cobra’s den, and the child lay his hand on the adder’s lair.

DERJISTE

With its three warring tribes, Kryobaijan was not so different from Oelar.

At that very moment, Robert Petursson Viereskog was meeting real intersectionalists from Kryobaijan, introducing the Foreign Minister, "Margarethe Hjovarthursdatter Alvitr", and his colleague, "Svava Pallsdatter Gunn". He was the newcomer on the diplomatic team that seemed tired and depressed; Robert and even Svava did not realize the newly-minted intelligence officer had replaced Rick Geijer because the latter had raped the foreign minister in Cornavia.

To be fair, Foreign Minister Alvitr had no idea that Viereskog had secret orders to incite the two feminist-leaning ladies into exaggerating the prospects for intersectionalism in Olmolungring. And even if Alvitr was not preoccupied with other things... Could I be pregnant? she thought shaking Nodishenko's hand... she would probably not guess she was being used as a pawn against her moderate-progressive brother Isleifur Christian, who hoped to be the next rigpa. Stoker calculated that Kryobaijan might indeed be able to strengthen his position. Matteus calculated that it might just force, or at least scare, the Alvitrs and Franconians into supporting Halvbefaren.

One thing was certain. Whenever an official from Kryobaijan was alone with Viereskog, they would get an impassioned plea to support Stoker, as well as the (perhaps false) impression that against a powerful conservative like Halvbefaren, the Alvitrs would rally behind Stoker. Working for the Campanile -- so indirectly for Lord Provost Halvbefaren -- was Viereskog's last chance. After the Knytlingsfort raid that killed Lord Eir's son, he really couldn't afford to screw this one up.

There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain / for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.

SOUTHPORT-ON-SEA

In complex but more direct ways, the CIS agent in Southport-on-Sea was being briefed on another aspect of the Halvbefaren plan. Unlike Viereskog, Feargus Ulfsson Gunnr was a trained professional, as far as the Oelarian Campanile had any 'professionals'. While reading a book in an alcove near a broad bay window at the university (the conference had been postponed several hours) a nearby elevator door opened to reveal a lift with a man in a peacoat and fedora, only for the door to close then open again. Operation Garnet meant that the Campanile was familiar with the CIS and its ways of doing business. It was so rare for most spies to do espionage that an ironic trend might emerge among agents from friendly agencies making contact with each other: spies playing at being spies.

So Gunnr stepped into the elevator, and as it began its descent, the man in the hat produced a fireman's key, inserted it into the elevator's emergency brake, and turned the key. While most people would be nonplussed, Feargus cracked a broad grin.

"Nice touch. We thought you might intercept that cable. Olmolungring is having its first transfer of power in fifty years. The Campanile is concerned that if my clan, the Gunns, and the conservative faction loses power there will emerge undue foreign influence. If Stoker's socialist movement wins in Knytlingsfort next week he will be well-placed to make a run for rigpa, he has some support on the electoral Council of Lords, and will move Oelar into Kryobaijan's orbit. If the Alvitrs win, Olmolungring will make a bid to join the EDF and fall into Franken's orbit; while seemingly less volatile, the Great War taught all of us about the backlash this could elicit."

Gunnr tried to look at his counterpart's face, but it was mostly obscured by the fedora the other man -- or woman? -- had pulled low over his -- or her? -- eyes.

"My boss, Lord Provost Halvbefaren, is committed to balancing Franconian and Intersectionalist power in the North, with friendly relations -- although no direct military cooperation, of course -- with the LFS states if necessary. Olmolungring is the mountain fortress that keeps Franconian and Intersectionalist influence from spreading too much into Scania. We will need Cornavia's assistance to help us hold the line. Tell your men in Yungdrung Gutsak to meet Halvbefaren at Sally's Restaurant near the Franconian embassy; he will get a private room..."

"...We also strongly suspect the Batavians are supporting the socialist, G. S. Stoker. Ask your men if they can find out why."

On that day, the root of Jesse set up as a signal for the nations, the Gentiles shall seek out / for his dwelling shall be glorious.

 

[Gunnland]

Winter 1991

A redoubt. The mountains northeast of Knytlingsfort.

They were all there. It was the first time many heard the terms "intersectionalism", "standpoint epistemology", and "interlocking matrices of oppression", a vocabulary that was beginning to gain prominence in the Capitollium as well as universities in Cornavia and Kryobaijan. The M-13S had just formed in Cornavia. Ideological rigidities had not formed among the international radicals, yet, who represented a still inchoate movement. But the intellectuals had high hopes, in those brief years, for a Northern Communism that would rival the successes of the famous revolutions in the South and cleanse the nations between Kryobaijan and Batavia in a sea of red.

An Intersectionalist-Autonomist International, [ISAI] which as the months wore on became an Internationalist-Sarconist-Autonomist International, was dreamed about.

Secretary-Commander Stoker sat on a crate of smuggled Batavian weapons. While the organization was still protean at best, Stoker was a figurehead that technically united the Intersectionalist-Sarconist Revolutionary Authority [ISRA] ("party" was discarded as unsuitable for the Oelarian context where there was no political state) and its armed wing, Spartacist Command Oelar [SCO]. Only later was the revisionist umbrella term "Autonomist" assigned to the whole undertaking. For some reason, leftists needed to get their neologisms sorted out before they began the actual fighting.

But here the postmarxist context went deep. The Oelarian existentialist philosopher of the 19th Century, S. M. Gravplass, disagreed sharply with Hegel and the Germanic Idealists, of whom Marx was one. Translated into political terms by G. R. R. Sarkon, revolutionary change would be necessary first at an individual level. Intersectionalism was the latest sociological offspring of this long intellectual tradition that described how deep oppression went.

(In fact, in hushed conversations among Stoker and the elite cadres of ISRA's young autonomists, they conjectured that the terrorist thugs that worked for SCO were motivated more by money, the promise of patriarchal concepts like 'honor', and hatred of the traditional ruling Eir clan in Knytlingsfort and the Sindhu Valley than autonomist principles.)

Paymasters in Kryobaijan and Batavia might pooh-pooh the talk in the ISRA nerve center. ("Shut up and forward the Revolution," Karel Hass famously told Stoker once.) But talk was mostly what ISRA did, after all, and some of the young rambunctious intellectuals from Olmolungring and its neighboring countries were listening...