The Winding Road

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Royal Residence, Syracuse

The large clock ticks and tocks were made louder when the sound reverberated off of the highly polished marble floor. The Royal Residence was far more modest than most palaces but many of the Residence's rooms were still fairly ornate. The King sat in silence looking over a document while Chancellor Valdez sat silently. Valdez had a reputation among Long Sea governments as being a maverick of the long term game and of local politics. The King however was less inspirational than his predecessor; instead choosing to be an administrator. "You and I both know this war is not going well" said the King, not looking up from the document on the recent operation in the Bartholomew Islands.

Valdez sat quietly, wondering if another tirade was coming. The King almost always showed a sense of cool in front of others but with Valdez he let his anger be free. The man was overweight but it was spread over a massive frame. Fat was the wrong word. He was bulky. His hands seemed to be like bear paws clutching the document. The King peered over the stapled sheets at his Chancellor. Seeing almost no reaction he sighed and put the documents down. "We are beginning to face an insurgency. A storm is gathering Carlos" said the King. Valdez already knew that as he sat in on the daily briefings with the King.

"Carlos, we are at a vital crossroads. I did not want this war. I did not want this crown. They were thrust upon me" said the King. While Valdez had nothing but the greatest respect for the Monarch, he still sometimes had to resist rolling his eyes. The King could see that Valdez was annoyed by the small diatribe. "Carlos, there is something you need to know" said the King. Even Valdez could not maintain his composure as his eyes went as big as the face on the large clock.




















This thread is to be an inside look at Nicosia's leadership and current happenings etc

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Bishop's House, Syracuse

The small squat estate was uniquely situated just a block away from the Tiburian Bishop's Palace. It was understated and austere. Protected since the attacks, the estate was surrounded by a high temporary fence which was guarded by several police officers. Father Antonious Verdi had been invited to act as chairperson. Verdi was a Nicosian Orthodox priest with a long gray beard and weathered face. Before Urban's reign, the two churches shared a close bond. They held charity events, held mixers, and engaged in interfaith teaches. Father Verdi had become a close confidant of the College's elected spokesman, Cardinal Alfonso Sarducci. Sarducci was nearing 75 and constantly was smoking but maintained a boyish gentle voice.

The room was stuffy in the October weather. Nicosia still had quite the warmth and the estate lacked temperature control. The air felt heavy as the clergy packed the room. Some wore suits, long ago being cast away by Urban. Others wore robes that looked faded. Some wore simple clerical shirts, black with the white tab. Cardinal Vivar, Cardinal Sarducci, and Father Verdi sat at the front of the room as other slowly took their seats.

"We are gathered here to discuss the ecclesiastical issues that face Holy Mother Church. We will do this following laws set out by our founders. We have invited a close friend of the Nicosian diocese here. Father Verdi has been a vocal supporter of the church. He has been an Orthodox Priest for nearly 35 years" said Sarducci, offering his hand in the direction of Verdi.

"Today, we begin to discuss the current state of the Solaris Church. We have invited you, the rightful leaders of the church, to join us in this ecclesiastic discussion" said Verdi.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Torrance

The autumn rain fell lightly outside the stain glass windows of the small chapel. In the past few days, the Solaris Church hierarchy had been hastily assembled. Bishops, Cardinals, and even a few Monsignors clambered into the chapel attached to the Health Ministry; their luxury automobiles idling in the parking lot. A few, more humble, arrived via bus or worn car.

The pews had been cleared and replaced with long red oak tables with matching chairs. Each of the clergymen found their place as altar boys acted as page boys. The room was abuzz with talk. All had been told before anyone of the Pope's capture. Some, over the past years, had indoctrinated themselves while doing the same to others. Some were fat, some were old, some wore beards. Only a few bothered to cross themselves before they sat. Each were poured a handsome glass of red wine and Cardinal Jose Cortez, satisfied that all invited that could come had arrived, stood to greet them.

"Greetings and G-d Bless. These times are troubled. Our patriarch is in the shackles of those who continually attack our Holy Mother Church with words and bombs". The evening was setting in as the clergy enjoyed a wholesome meal of lamb, wine, and fine cheese. Sensing most meals had finished, Cortez took to his feet and gazed at the 60 or so seated before him, bathed in light from candles and soft bulbs situated throughout the chapel. "We must discuss what is to be done. Our enemies, long ago banished from this Holy Land, are meeting to discuss our downfall. We must do what we can here tonight and the coming days. Those of you with vehicles parked outside are welcome to ensure your vehicle does not continually run. We shall be here for some time. Wine shall no longer be served in 15 minutes. Church business is our calling" said Cortez with a soft smile.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Outskirts of Torrance

With Urban in hiding, the Cardinals were running day to day business of the government. The nation was in anarchy. Roads which could easily shift troops had been destroyed repeatedly. Now, the nation was relying on its decayed infrastructure. Power in Torrance was even experiencing the occasional blackout. Cortez, son of a Coronado whore, had climbed the ranks of the church, sometimes over the bodies of his counterparts. He had convinced most of the Cardinals that they had to focus on the internal issues. The people had to put up more of a fight. Cortez had talked with a few leaders, but did not have a solid relationship with them. After all, Urban and the military were dealing with them.

He looked down at his desk, the worn walnut that had been imported when he was a lowly monsignor. He picked up his platinum plated pen and began writing a few letters of thanks to various clergy. He put down the pen and walked to the window. His palace was more of an estate but compared to the rest of nation, it was a palace. Most nations who had embassies in Torrance were located just down the road which was a straight shot to the government district. The huge window looked out to an expansive walking garden, green even in autumn. The massive rosebed had been trampled by the installation of an anti-aircraft gun and mobile radar. He rubbed his hands as his minor arthritis began to act up.

At 59, he was a young but agile Cardinal. He had ruthlessly climbed into the position but maintained a public appearance of a deeply religious man. He had donated time to various schools. He in fact, hated children. They were loud, they smelled, they whined more than a Tiburian Catholic he thought. He turned from the window and looked at the painting of Urban on his wall before turning to his TV. Being a high level Church member, he was one of only perhaps 50 people who were allowed to have satellite TV. Those who did not have a license and had a dish, quickly found themselves in a tin mine. He flipped to through the various news channels before settling on one from Breotonia. He watched it closely for a moment before flicking it off. He sighed and went back to his thank yous. It was necessary to keep the clergy in line in these times, to act if all was normal.

buzzzzzzzzzzzz

Unlike others, the ringers, the Cardinal preferred a singular long buzz on his phone. He picked it up and it was a guard at the front gate. "There is a Mr. Gonzi here" said the guard.

"Well....?" said Cortez, waiting.

"He says he knew your mother's sister" said the guard.

Alarms went off. Cortez thought he had cut all possible ties to his past. He had searched endlessly for family members of his mother's when he became a Cardinal. Officially, his parents died in a house fire when he was 12. Unofficially, he was a bastard and his mother had died drunk in a gutter when he was 25. "Escort him in" said Cortez cautiously.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Outskirts of Torrance

Cortez held his breath as the man entered the room. He quietly appraised the man; looking him up and down. He did not know the man who appeared to be early in his 40's. The man sat down as if he didn't have a care in the world. The gray suit hung awkwardly and then Cortez noticed that it was heavily wrinkled. He took another deep breath before speaking. Cortez's eyebrows arched as he tried to calmly ask: "How did you know my mother?"

The man crossed his legs, leaning forward from the worn leather seat in front of the Cardinal's desk. He and leaned forward further, taking some peanuts from the small glass bowl on the desk. Cortez's graying eyebrows arched further. "I lied, I didn't know your mother" said the man, chewing his peanuts.

Cortez felt a wave of relief as he tried to place the accent and he buzzed for his aid. Occasionally, people who wanted something would weasel the way into his office. It was nothing new. The man cocked his head as he heard the footsteps of what undoubtedly was a guard coming to throw him out. He spoke softly to Cortez- "Listen, I think you should hear what this Nicosian has to say". Cortez tried to hide his surprise and knew he was doing it horribly. When the guard came in, Cortez waved him away. Cortez was curious. The man sat with that annoying smile, eating more nuts. "Can I trouble you for something to drink?" asked the man as he uncrossed his legs, adjusted his suit coat, and sat back.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Syracuse

The orchestra warming filled the National Opera House with the sound of cellos warming up. The King and Chancellor had already been introduced to the rest of the audience. Potella, a Nicosian version of Goethe's Faust was about to begin.

Seated in the customary Box 5, the two leaders sat waving to the audience a bit. They finally settled back just as the woodwinds began to warm up. The King did not take his eyes from the curtain covering the stage as he began to speak. "You know, we are finalizing a draft of the non-aggression treaty with Carentania" said the King as he raised a hand to acknowledge the ambassador from Carentania in the opposite box.

Valdez sat emotionless and exhaled deeply. "You disagree?" asked the King. "Well, your highness, we aren't exactly in a diplomatic position to........" said Valdez before being cut off. "You may have a reputation as a flawless diplomat Chancellor but I have a reputation for being the King of Nicosia. The Kosara's have kept this tiny nation independent for hundreds of years".

"I am aware" said the Chancellor curtly. The two forced smiles. The very good relationship was becoming strained horribly. "We need to consider the ramifications of..." said Valdez, again being interrupted. "We need to consider that we have to take into account that this treaty is not only a good way to improve our relations but it protects Nicosia. We have fail safes in several parts of the treaty. It is happening. That is final" said the King. Valdez opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly.

"We are taking overall command of the Solaren theater" said the King. Just then an aid inside the box went to open the door and Colonel de Castille entered. He was a tall man of about 50 with graying hair and a heavily weathered face. A long scar ran from side to side across his forehead which was usually covered by a uniform hat. He approached and snapped to attention. The King barely acknowledged that he was in the box before, after a minute, he finally said "well sit down"!

The King turned to de Castille and looked him up and down. The warm ups had ceased and the silence was immense. Only the occasional murmur filled the opera. "Colonel. How would you feel about taking command?" asked the King softly. Before the Colonel could respond, the King continued. "Of the entire theater of operations and EDF forces in Solaren..."

de Castille sat utterly surprised. He was indeed one of the few field commanders with pre-Solaren combat experience that Nicosia had. He had quietly served with other EDF military forces and had seem some action in the early 1990's. An explosion had thrown him forward and his brow slammed against the side of a truck, leaving the scar. "I....." de Castille was stopped by the King's erratic hand gesture as the stage curtain opened. "You have 72 hours leave. I expect you to be in Trier in 72 hours and then Solaren. Enjoy the show General"

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Southern Solaren

The winds of the Long Sea grew strangely chilly in December. The breeze whipped across the Cardinal's face; his robes flapped with each small gust. The smell invaded his nostrils. The Long Sea had a smell...he couldn't place it. Yes it was the smell of ocean, but something more. He breathed deeply as it again filled his lungs. It was the smell of the cradle of Western civilization. He could almost taste it. Soon, the sun would show over the horizon and shimmer off the crisp blue-green waves. The sound of the waves was only broken by the groans of the two oarsmen. He glanced back at his two companions, each in deep red robes. It took only moments before he heard the boat scrape against the shore. Gently, Cardinal Blas Vivar climbed from the boat, nearly slipping on the smooth round rocks that made up this particular stretch of the coastline. His companions also struggled. It had been years since they had stepped on Solaris soil.

The sun rose gently as the three Cardinals and lowly priest climbed the pot-holed road that led from the beach. The small village of Bronte had hardly been touched by war. Maybe 80 lived in the tiny village. Vivar looked around at the squalor and said a prayer. The three men knew that they could all be at the end of the rope by the evening. A farmer leading a goat came around the corner and stopped in his tracks. He had scarcely seen one Cardinal, let alone three. His mouth was agape as each Cardinal and the Priest blessed the man as he followed their walk through the tiny village. A half mile down the road, a small blue sedan idled and the 4 holy men climbed in.

 

[Holy Frankish Empire]

Outskirts of Torrance

The ink blue sedan, covered in dust, had a strange rattle from the engine as it puttered to a stop in front of the small estate's large cast iron gate. The four clergy men were happy to finally stretch their legs and made no effort to conceal their stretching. They approached the gate and the guards, seeing the men dressed in the garb of high cardinals exchanged a glance. While it was a crime punishable by death to dress as an ordained member of the Solaris church and not be one, it did not rule out the fact that these men arrived in a rather ratty looking car. What Solaris Cardinal would arrive in that? The four approached the gate as the guards stood in silence. Vivar came forward, slightly ahead of his compatriots, rosary in hand. "Open the gates my son, we are here to see Cardinal Cortez and to do G-d's work". One guard came closer, still with an eyebrow raised-"Identification. Now!" The car puttered away; the driver obviously scared for his life. Vivar opened his mouth to speak and closed it. He knew that this visit had to be handled properly. "My son, check with his eminence. We are hear at his invitation".

-----

The 4 men found that there were two chairs in the office and Cardinal Cortez stood to greet them in silence. The mood was tense among the visitors but Cortez remained cool. As Vivar and Antolini found their chairs, the other Cardinal and the lowly priest stood behind them. Cortez made his way to a small table and paused. He had thought of pouring them the light pink wine that this region so favored. He decided to pour them something that almost nobody in Solaren drank. It was a Nicosian fortified wine. Purple with flowery notes and a strong taste. The wine filled four glasses and was handed out. Cortez slowly seated himself again behind his walnut desk. Vivar was the first to speak- "Let me thank you for your promise of safe passage". Cortez held out his hands, palms out as if to say 'its the least I could do'. Vivar gulped the strong wine. It was rather refreshing. Finally, Cortez spoke. "What is it you wish from me?" said Cortez.

Vivar kept a straightened face. "We wish to return to the folds of Holy Mother Church. As you know, not even a Holy Father can take away our place as Cardinals without excommunication"....Vivar paused. He searched for the right words. Cortez spoke before Vivar could finish. "Swear allegiance to Solaren and Urban and perhaps most of the sins of you four can be erased".

Vivar smiled. "No dear Cardinal Cortez. We all wish to return home". Cortez was taken aback. The silence dominated the room. "What would you say if I could guarantee a peace". Cortez, a man noted for his austere and shrewd manner was showing his cards. He could hardly contain his reaction. He noticed it and tried to cover it by swallowing a healthy portion of fortified wine. He folded his hands. "You realize I could have you shot?" said Cortez curtly. Vivar ignored the question. "What if I told you that a peace may be reached. One in which Solaren is no slave. One in which Solaren retains her own government. No communist Solaren National Congress".

Cortez arched his fingers and stood to refill his wine glass. "How do I know your speech has weight?" asked Cortez, putting the stopper into the crystal bottle. The priest began to speak- "Do you really think we would........" His speech stopped as Vivar shot him a glance. "Forgive my companion. He has long been away from the protective wings of Mother Church and he forgets himself" said Vivar coldly. Cortez shrugged in understanding. The youth were indeed strong. Vivar continued. "Like my companion was attempting to express is that we would not dare be here, asking for Holy mercy if we could not atone for our sins" concluded Vivar. Cortez nodded solemnly. He opened his mouth for another drink.

"Why come to me?" asked Cortez cautiously. He tried to read the faces of the men but they all turned to Vivar. "May I speak without fear of reproach?" asked Vivar. Cortez held his arms open in invitation. Vivar turned and asked his companions to await outside. They quietly shuffled out and the door closed heavily behind them. "Cardinal, I know you as man of ambitions" said Vivar. Cardinal Cortez flashed the faintest of smirks- "I am ambitious to help Mother Church" said Cortez.

Vivar knew that the man had killed, had done terrible things to get to his position. He did however have a sense of honor. Cortez valued his word, never breaking a promise. He never harmed women or children. He had distanced himself from certain government actions and skillfully avoided such things. He took a deep breath as Vivar continued. "I know you to be a man of your word and that you know I am a man of mine". Cortez nodded.

"Who do you represent?" asked Cortez. Vivar thought for a moment. "Let us say I represent those sent packing by his Holiness. I represent other channels". Cortez blinked but showed no other reaction. "Terms?" asked Cortez. Vivar took an exceptionally deep breath. "We both know Urban can only run. He is the single most wanted man on Earth. The Nicosians have come close. We both know they will never cease. You welcome back the exiled clergy and you will have our support. That is what you get personally. Urban must go".

The room was silent. The two men could hear each other breath. Cortez rubbed his jaw; something he did when he was unsure of a decision. "Go on" he said curtly.