The Federation
Established Nation
THE HIGHLANDER
Bangleann, Bantyr
The Executive Palace
Bangleann, Bantyr
The Executive Palace
President Gordon sat in his leather chair in his darkened office in the Executive Palace that sat looking out over the fog covered valley Bangleann sat in; it's small towers barely breaking through the fog. The morning sun broke over the crest of the valley reflecting off the moist fog and shining into his window, illuminating his unlit office. The journey to this moment in time had been one spanning half a life time, Gordon would be turning forty-five soon himself and as he sat he reflected on the journey. The Nationalist Party of Bantyr had little legitimate power within the government establishment forced to work in the shadows to gain the control it needed to shape Bantyr into it's nationalistic vision. Many previous regimes before Gordon's had been Nationalist Party plants, slowly but surely shaping the attitude of the country into one of seething hatred for everything not Bantyric, unfortunately with they Murdoch regime they had played their hand to early and did more damage then intended in the short term, however the long term effect upon the people's attitude had done wonders for the Nationalists. With the anger of the people swiftly and professionally shifted to the outside source of Bantyr's pain they succeeded in an increasingly nationalistic population. Constant fear mongering of increasing medical costs due to defective people allowed the Eugenics bill to be legitimately legislated into Bantyric common law. People turned in suspected human defects and race traitors; the journey to racial purity would be a long one but they were well on their way. With the Suionian continuing their vengeful economic crusade against Bantyr the nationalist controlled media spun their webs and manipulated the people to fear the Suionian; beatings of those with Suionian heritage in the southern cities were common, employers passed them over for those with pure Bantyric heritage. Of course some intelligent employees and entrepreneurs would be destroyed in the wave of fear but it was a small price to pay for a pure Bantyr. Police ignored their requests for help, the media passed up their calls to report their suffering and anything that may have made it through was swiftly denounced as enemy propaganda.
Allen Gordon smiled as he thought of these events and happenings throughout his nation; he would be the vanguard of a Nationalist takeover of Bantyr in the coming elections and the charade would soon be over. He had given his childhood to the Nationalists, sworn his life to them and his mind to them. He enjoyed every moment of it, the power they had given him was the reward for his faith. He though of his life in the frozen Highlands the land that had formed him into a physically and mentally strong man. As a boy he watched the soldiers train in the hills and mountains preparing themselves for anything, as a young man he joined them and quickly became one of them and as an adult he used the skills and knowledge he gained there to serve his masters. A shrill beep quickly brought him out of his reminiscing, his sharp green eyes turning with his head as he looked over his shoulder before repositioning himself to face his desk and the dark wooden door before it. His rough hand reached out to press the button on the intercom. The timid voice of his aide came through advising him that his good friend and General Keith Ritchie had come for his scheduled visit. The door opened revealing an older man in his sixties, his once red hair now gray due to the stresses of the military, wearing his Service Blues and a dark blue Tam o' Shanter upon his head. Gordon smiled when he saw him come in, waving for him to approach the desk. Ritchie took out a pipe and quietly pointed at it.
“Of course, I do not mind,” Gordon answered knowing he was asking if he could smoke. Ritchie removed tobacco from a small pouch produced from his pocket and packed it in. Gordon turned to look back out the window toward the fog covered city; more of the city was now visible as the sun continued rising.
Ritchie finally spoke after a few puffs on his old pipe, “Looks like it will burn off soon.” He said gesturing with the pipe toward the fog.
“Indeed,” Gordon said turning back to face General Ritchie. “How have you been old friend?”
“Old?” Ritchie spurted out acting offended. “I'll have you know young man, I feel as if I am still in my twenties!”
Gordon laughed, “Of course you do.”
Ritchie smiled and paused for a moment taking another puff from his pipe. “I am quite alright my friend. I hear that you wish to discuss the Glass Islands?”
“Indeed I do,” Gordon confirmed. “It has come to my attention that the Glass Islands are quite under-defended lately with our military facilities lacking as of late. There has been worry as of late within our faction that the Suionian establishment has come to the conclusion that they must use more forceful ways of opening up Bantyr to their influence once again.”
Ritchie's left eyebrow raised as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, “This is all hearsay of course?”
“Of course,” Gordon quickly replied, “but when was the last time our benefactor's 'hearsay' was incorrect?
“I cannot recall a time, Allen,” Ritchie said, still in thought.
Gordon's face remained calm as he spoke, “As I thought, if we are to return Bantyr to it's nationalistic glory we must embrace a level of militarism yet unseen within our nation. We must make the military, the national and local defense a matter of everyday events. As a member of the Joint Chiefs and leader of all of Bantyr's beloved armies you have the ear of the Defense Minister.”
“He has yet to be brought into our faction?” Ritchie asked.
“No, he is as we all thought, incorruptible, but he is easily manipulated which brings the defense budget under our control. However at times he becomes aware that he is a tool and tries to assert control back to his office; that is were you come in. He trusts you as a senior military mind and thus will listen to your sage advice. I would like to have all control my friend but asserting control over this republic is a team effort and that shall not change for many years yet.”
“I understand old friend. I shall get to work immediately upon this, the fear of our neighbor will spread through our military establishment and work to our advantage,” Ritchie gloated.
“Good, good, I shall have my aide schedule a dinner here in the palace next week.” Gordon said turning back toward the window, the fog had now completely burned off, the city in the valley now fully visible in the orange glow of the new sun. Ritchie saluted and turned to leave as Gordon closed his eyes feeling the sun's heat on his face, the sound of the door to his office quietly closing as the General left.