A Battle Unseen

[Dredd]

[Presidential Office Of Kundrati 1900 Hours]

Isvar was unsettled by just how calmly Sládek was taking the news that Kundrati was on the verge of an economic disaster. Throughout the entire presentation, Sládek had remained shockingly impassive. He’d not even so much as glanced at the evidence provided. It baffled Isvar. Did he not care about this?

Finally, he finished, and waited for Sládek to speak. “I’m disappointed,” He said after a few seconds of silence, shaking his head. “Of all those I expected disloyalty from, I didn’t think it would be you.”

Disloyal? What was he talking about? Isvars mouth parted slightly, completely baffled as to what he could mean. “Supreme Leader, I have been nothing but loyal to you since the beginning.”

“You dare claim this after what you just told me?” Sládek snapped, in an almost uncharacteristic outburst. “If you were not working against me, you would not have presented these fraudulent numbers! This manufactured ‘evidence’ you have presented undermines the very foundations of true Legionarism itself!”

Isvar stared in disbelief, mouth gaping in horror at how this had gone. “Sir, I—”

“Silence!” Sládek glared at him, lifting a hand. “What I have created will outlast time itself. I know better than to be fooled by traitors like you.” The door opened behind Isvar, and two Commissariat officers entered, and grabbed his arms. Sládek appraised Isvar coldly. “Take him away.”

Sládek ignored the sputtering and protests of the screamer, and sat back down, calmly pulling out several folders. Isvar's treason was an unexpected development, but hardly a matter of concern. It had been a clever ploy, but his perfected Legionarism was immortal. He would just have to find a proper steward to oversee it.

[Doc]

Wilson House, Personal Offices of Her Imperial Majesty
Mid May, 8:35pm

The Empress sat at her desk reading the latest reports from her various ministries.  Kalistani imports are slowly dwindling as the Embargo cuts deeply into world trade volume, slowing global trade from Artania and wiping out a fairly major source of imports to Kalistan.  Ship production has slowed in Kaliburg and there are fewer orders for shipping containers in Sulari.  Despite the reopening of the Trans Seleyan Railroad, there has not been increased cargo coming into Addisjah.  Things are slowing down.  Internationally, the embargo is having no real effect on the Kundratis:  some of the ministers and chief aides have gone missing...  who cares...  what's another dead fascist in the grand scheme of things.  Some new friends, fewer old ones...

She stared at the clock and the hands seemed to slow to a crawl.  Here she was sitting at her desk, while others lived their lives.  She was trapped in her palace while Kalistanis were out going to restaurants, going to the movies, going to concerts.  All things she used to love before she was Empress.  All things her mother warned her would disappear when she became Empress.  She lived in a gilded cage.  She had the power to actually manifest her very will, and yet was not free to get onto the metro and go to a burger joint if it wasn't scheduled two weeks in advance.  At some point she was the freest woman in the world, and on another point, she had the same freedom that a person who lived on a desert island had:  She could do as she pleases but so what?  

Her children were growing up while she worked.  Her husband was growing old while she worked.  The world spun while she worked.  And few cared, or really even knew what she did with her hours.  How many friends had she lost?  How many people had spun away from her because she was too busy with life?  Her life was a life of work, not a life of leisure.  Her life was a life where others expected things from her, and yet refused to allow her to do anything for herself.   She had servants who drew baths for her, she had servants who drove her everywhere, and cooked all her food, and her own son's tutor saw her children more hours in a day than she was able in a week.

And yet, she felt lucky to be allowed to make her own tea in evenings like this.  She had begun adding a dash of opium to her tea, as her mother had for years.  The heat of the tea would melt the powder and dissolve it, and while the powder wasn't enough to produce sleepiness or euphoria of any kind, it did add a subtle sweet and full flavor to her Earl Grey tea which more enhanced the Bergamot than overpowered it.  The servants don't put opium in the Empress' tea.  If they would be caught doing that, the government would accuse them of trying to assassinate the Empress.    But The Empress herself was free at least to flavor her tea as she pleased.  And there is not a single person alive within the Empire who could tell her that she couldn't.

As she sipped the tea, the Empress would walk to the window.  She was growing grey:  some permanent wrinkles could be seen:  She had grown up in this job:  How long had it been?  Twenty Years?  No, it had been only 13 years.  It felt like 30.  Carolina...  Carolina was tired.  She was more tired than anything:  Was it too much to ask a single woman to do this job?  Will the wins become too far apart to feel like wins anymore?  Will the losses come faster and faster?  She was starting to understand why it is that the Emperors and Empresses before her all abdicated as soon as they could.  She envied her father, for just a second, and felt a new form of pity for her mother, who had to do all this by herself without any of the training that Carolina has received, because her mother realized just how important it was for Carolina to start early.  There was so much to learn, and none of it prepared her for the job itself, the enormity of the job.

But, almost as if a switch flipped--perhaps it was the tea-- the mood changed in the room.  An oppressive cloud that had covered her thoughts for weeks seemed to evaporate in an instant.  Her life was hard, but it didn't have to be.  She was the Empress of the Anantonese Empire, the single most powerful woman to walk upon Terra at this exact moment.  Her word was law.

She could just--leave.  Not the job, of course.  But, why did she have to be at work at 8:30 pm while her children were growing up at home?  She did not have to be her mother.  She did not have to be Nicolette, either the First or the Second.  If she could be anyone, why shouldn't she be more like her adopted father and the only dad she had even known?  He seemed to have a natural ease about him that masked a sense of deep loss.  But he always used to make her smile with his stupid jokes or magic tricks that he spent time learning and practicing to amaze her when she was a little girl.

She could be more like him.  She could just walk out of her office, turn off the light, put the reports down, and spend time with her family.  They were always saying that they wanted her to.  She took another gulp of tea and decided that her work day shall never go past 4:30 again, unless it had to, and then she wanted her children near her.  It was a small step, the Empress knew.  Just a small step.  but that step could lead to other small steps.  Perhaps it would lead to her and her family going into town more often for concerts or movies, or going to fast food restaurants?  Who knew.  But it wasn't too late for her to keep her life from passing her by, to try to find joy again.  Life didn't have to be a drag and it didn't have to be oppressive.

Swallowing the last drop of tea, she set the tea cup on the saucer and set it onto a small table near the side lamp...  and then, she decided in a moment... she would take the teacup and saucer to the kitchen herself, rather than allowing the servants to come in and clean up after her.  She'd do it herself for once.  And who knows:  She might like it so much that she does other things for herself too.

[Ligbruderkrieg]

February 5th, 5590 - Royal Amphitheater of Fort William - Luthori

It couldn't be...impossible, prosperous, some might say. A gem, that the Holy Luthori Empire had guarded during centuries jealously, giving to the House of Orange-Villayn by his family was going to go back in Beiteynu...to the fucking Kadiyots. No, it couldn't be. It couldn't be happening. Yet, it was happening. The Empress had given the green-light to...the Private Secretary to begin preparations to transfer the Gem to Beiteynu.

How could the Empress do that? She is the Luthorian Monarch, she knows the Ezharim..she knows what would happen if the Kadiyot got their hands on only one gem.

It was far too suspicious...when he called both the Princess of Orange, Katherine and the Duke of Alchester in that subject, both stated that they had no idea of that transaction and would have certainly never under any circumstances gave that Gem back to Beiteynu...far too valuable...

No...the Empress knew that...so, how could she..., he laid back in the chair of the Amphitheater, awaiting for the results to come out about von Clauwitz.

"Sir, we have something.", that was what he awaited for so long.

"Mr. von Clauwitz's father is...a Kadiyot"

To say that Mr. Reyburn wasn't surprised would be an understatement, he had suspicions about this man, his demeanor, his way of talking...all of that resembled to a Kadiyot.

"But a Kadiyot that close to the Sovereign was strange, what could he possibly do...oh fuck...."

He realised it. The Empress' health has been decreasing rapidly ever since some years, Crown Princess Katherine was taking more royal duties that were normally due to her mother's, also fragilising her health.

He did it. The bastard made everything. He made the Empress sign that goddamn paper. He made that. The Kadiyots, these traitors, made that.

"Call up Benowitz in Yishelem, I want the Imperial Security Service in the Fort William International Airport now. Call up the Air Force, just in case."

"Yes sir", and then the man disappeared, leaving the man with Dies Irae from the Hulstrian composer in his ears.

Yes..no Gem shall reach Beiteynu, never, or he isn't a Benowitz, just a fool. This would be God's Wrath. Once again.

For the Empire, for his family. Never again. For him, if the Luthorians wants the Throne so badly...they would need to do an Edward III once again.

[Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0T7eMctuJLQ]

[SolentiaAhmadi]

15 miles outside of the Solentian capital, in an old hotel currently being used as the headquarters for the provisional government of Solentia.

15 February 5590

The Defence Minister looked glum. If everything had gone smoothly he would now have his Ministry in the capital, a budget to spend, soldiers to inspect and arms suppliers to negotiate deals and discuss “contributions” for his Istalian bank account. But no, the President-elect Mullah Yummah dithered waiting for a sign from Akim to attack the capital, Jaish-e Ahmadi soldiers sat applying kohl eyeliner and prancing around like peacocks, while the apostates sat in the capital, no doubt enjoying whiskey and the favours of the women from the Kalopian quarter. And now Mullah Yummah had directed him to meet this businessman from Al-Badara. Pason Alvi hated Al-Badarans, effeminate Majatrans from the islands who played at being Ahamdists. But he respected the Mullah who had been involved in Solentian politics for decades and had already seen off one apostate regime, now thirty years later a second apostate regime tinkered on the brink of collapse...

The door opened and his assistant walked in with a tall visitor. He was dressed in traditional Al-Badaran garb and didn't look dissimilar to one of those infidel Abadi's from Kafuristan.

"As-salaam 'alaykum", the Defence Minister greeted his visitor, "please come and sit down".

The visitor returned the greeting and sat down in the offered chair.

"So, the Mullah has told me you have an offer to share today, do you mind if we proceed to business directly", the Defence Minister mangled his Majatran. He was much more comfortable speaking in his own Dudmani dialect, and despite several years as an exile in Kafuristan it shamed him his Majatran was poor. "I have to work with my commanders and explore plans for taking the capital, insh'akim".

"Insh'akim indeed, you in Solentia are an inspiration to us all my friend. What you have achieved for the faith, Akim willing you will succeed fully, soon". The visitor emphasized the last word and the Defence Minister squirmed ever so slightly. It was embarrassing the Mullah had not just launched an attack to remove the apostates from the capital. The visitor continued "I hope soon my organisation can emulate your success across wider Majatra".

The Defence Minister was not old enough to have fought for the organisation in the 5540's. But many of his colleagues and friends had in either Jakania or Solentia, or in some cases both. However, the organisation had been crushed in both nations, although had remained a viable, if somewhat exaggerated threat. "Yes, I can only hope so, many of my friends have the scars of those conflicts, and glory in the name of Jamaat al-Tawba".

The visitor smiled. The Jihadi networks had been strong between Solentia and Ahmadi State. His own father was a friend of Mullah Yummah, but in the 5540's he had not even been born. "I myself was too young to have fought for the resurrection of the Caliphate, but my family were heavily involved. Funding, logistics, training".

The Defence Minister was alert at the last word. Mullah Yummah had already explained the requirements and the Defence Ministers subordinates had scoped several remote sites that would be viable. "You must understand, Hezb-e Ahmadi is not quite yet the government. Also, we are concerned to protect peaceful relations with our immediate neighbors..."

The visitor cut across the Defence Minister "do not worry my friend, we need to rebuild, to train to prepare. We are not interested in Istalia, or Kafuristan, yet. There are ungoverned spaces to the west that cry for Akim and offer opportunities. What we need is a safe base to plan, to train, to rest, and with your success Solentia is that space".

Pason Alvi thought about this. What could he get from this Al-Badaran? "And what can you offer us?"

"Glory for Akim and the Prophet, Peace Be Upon Him"

"Peace Be Upon Him. And?"

The visitor detested Solentians. They were all the same. Money, and perhaps a donkey or two, and they were sold. "Of course, we can provide training in martyr tactics, we can provide armed support to your government of dedicated fighters, I can speak to many of my contacts and arrange funding for mosques and schools. And of course you will be well compensated for any, er, expenses you have".

The Defence Minister leaned back. He liked the sound of that. Besides the Mullah had already issued the direction, he might as well make a little money from it from this Al-Badaran. "Then it is agreed, I have a team ready to show you around some of the locations so you can visit in person and make sure they are suitable to your requirements."

The conversation flowed for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion. The visitor and the Defence Minister both stood up.

"Ma’a salama, my friend, my secretary will provide you with the necessary information, an escort and guide will be ready for first thing in the morning, insh'akim".

The visitor smiled "Bkhatrak, Akim ma’ak", before turning and leaving the room.

The Defence Minister smiled to himself, went over to his cabinet and poured a discreet whiskey. He had never really liked the fanatics of Ahmadi State, they were after violence as an end in itself to bring about the end times. But he did like money, and his Istalian bank account would look healthy after all...

[Ligbruderkrieg]

October 25th, 5591 - Hosbury House, Grand Duchy of Northriding.

On this day, October 25th, 5591, a tall figure makes her appearance in front of the Prime Minister's Mansion at Hosbury House, where the Prime Minister is currently sojourns for his vacations. Accompanied by an imposing yet carefully diminished retinue of 2 Raby-Porden Cullinan used by the Imperial Security Service, which were behind and in front of the "Phantom" model of the same company. Inside of the latter was the Chief of the Defence Staff, who was coming up to the Prime Minister to explain some preliminary details about the military's audit on itself.

...Finding all documents which were relevent which a little...complicated, so to speak...which revealed another problem, paperwork, or, more precisely, the lack of digitalisation of the Luthorian administration. It was impossible for a nation of over 150 millions inhabitants, who call herself the "Leader" of the Free World, to not even have a decently digitalised administrative system, she thought to herself.

Despite her annoyance at countless hours made searching for the right documents and right informations to conduct this audit, she would say her mind about the digitalisation issue to the Prime Minister, after all, the Luthorian Air Force already started its own digitalisation effort a little time ago, with the Chief of the Air Force appointed a new " Chief Air [Force] Digitalisation Program Task Force" or CADT, tasked with beginning to take over the results of the audit to the Air Force's digital services...or worse, create one.

The thing is, everyone has its own portal where to stock important information, yet crucially, or dumbfully, the usage of such portals, normally necessary to ease the burden of the bureaucrats was low, pitifully low.

No wonder why Luthorian bureaucrats were less productive than other nations'.

She was soon thrown out of her thoughts by the convoy's arrival at Hosbury House, God, that trip must have taken at least 2 hours, no wonder the Prime Minister loved this residence, so nice, so peaceful, so isolated from the rest of the nation, especially...Fort William. Something she would have loved being like the Royal...Imperial Family or the Prime Ministers or even the nobility, having some dual residence out from the crowded cities, where she could relax, take care of herself, her family and honestly, take a long deserved break from the Capital or the Citadel.

Accompanied by a aide to the Prime Minister's Office in the mansion, she could look amazed at all the art present in the residence, looking them with great interest, she was thrown back from her thoughts yet again by the Prime Minister's voice. She hadn't even realised that she had entered his Office.

"General. What owe me the pleasure of seeing you today?", the Prime Minister asked interrogatively.

"Prime Minister. I've come to brief you beforehand before the comprehensive reports on the military's strength goes public, as you have ordered.", the Chief of the Defence Staff took a professional attitude in front of her technically boss.

"Go ahead, take a sit.", he nodded.

"One thing that we've seen and has been reported in all three branches of the military was the matter of the digitalisation of much of the archives.", she explained, taking a seat in front of the 400-year old desk that was once offered by the Hutorians.

"Hm", he simply nodded, seemingly concentrated upon today's discussion, but also having his mind focused around something else.

"Mr. Prime Minister, while the results of the whole inquiry upon the Armed Forces' capabilities will come tomorrow, I must ask you to begin a program for digitalising the Luthorian administration at once."

"Now the military is requiring things?", the man spoke up, faking an interrogative tone.

"No-not at all, Prime Minister, but, as I've stated, the military and I think the whole administration is having trouble finding most documents of value due to the lack of digitalisation of our administrative system, I'm simply recommending to you, Mr. Prime Minister, to begin a lengthy process aimed at digitalising our administration, in order to create a more efficient and competent one.", she stated, taking a more defensive approach to the Prime Minister's accusations of "meddling".

"Sure. If the administration can become more efficient in that way, I will surely engage the process for digitalising the administration, I could also expand that process to the economy."

"Thank you, sir."

"So, on the military, which I suggest was the reason why you came here in the first place, didn't you?"

"Hm. Yes."

Taking out her notes, she begun to explain to the Luthorian Prime Minister the current capabilities of the Luthorian Land, Sea and Air Forces, alongside some notes for the Marines and the Coast Guard and the Imperial Guard, she briefed the old man, this symbol of Luthorian politics, the Lord Southpton, for a whole hour before finishing. When she finished, the Prime Minister thanked her and accompanied her to the gate of his countryside residence.

After she had left, she could only wonder, who is this man?

[Dredd]

Comissar Radim was not a man who spoke much, for his presence was usually all he needed. There were few who were more meticulous and methodical than he, and it was for this reason that he was given the duties of inspection. The Supreme Leader demanded that all of the newly expanded mines were meeting quotas - and Radim was dispatched to see that his will was done.

The Legionary guards stood motionless as the officer walked through the entrances, their eyes betraying their fears of what would happen if the mines were not up to standards. The manager was by Radim's side, talking in a rushed voice, to hide his own fear. He knew that Radim had no qualms about executing those who failed.

For his part, Radim rarely spoke. He was content to listen, and observe.

The mine he was in was one of the smaller ones, but every deposit was important for the Legion. The equipment was outdated, but it was kept clean and in working order. He ordered it turned on, and it was done, confirming it worked. He continued forward, as his cold eyes scanned the slaves that toiled away in the deepest parts of the mines.

They were thin, scarred, dejected, hopeless. Adults and children alike.
Excellent.

The manager swallowed as Radim stopped, and appraised one of the slaves who had passed out on the ground, a crate of mined material tumbled onto the ground. With a dispassionate expression, Radim pulled out his pistol and shot the slave, and continued walking, making no further comment.

The rest of the tour proceeded without incident, and when it was finished, Radim turned to the manager, who braced himself, waiting to hear the verdict. Radim inclined his head as he spoke.

Supreme Leader Sladek will be satisfied with current progress.

[Dredd]

[13th Nov, 5591, 2000 Hours]

Sládek read over the reports on his mahogany desk. Production reports, political enemies liquidated, increases in camp populations. He smiled, the total number of inmates now numbered around 600,000, the demise of the KPP had allowed for a fresh population of political dissidents to pad out the numbers. While production boomed when not missing raw resources on account of the embargos, the quality continued to remain of mid to low quality, the workers simply didn't have the tools and facilities available. It would be impractical to build facilities in every location and to transport goods nation wide to the 200 separate camps nationally, but perhaps...

Sládek widened his eyes as an idea entered his mind. Yes of course, we could concentrate all the labor in one place...a megaproject. Lirnak had had many buildings toppled due to the fighting, but this could prove a boon. A new facility could be built in the ruins, a massive industrial camp designed for maximum productivity. Those KPP dogs and their supporters, along with the degenerate scum and minorities from our enemy countries are not even fit to breathe the air of their betters, but with proper direction these worthless slimes may be able to contribute something to the Legion.

A name emerged on the top of a fresh paper as the type writer clicked away, he would allocate the full might of the Kundrati gulags in its construction. He drew up the orders for his industrial ministers, the Commissariat, the civil service brigades. It would take months, tens of thousands would die, but the wheels of industry would turn on. A camp, more akin to a city, a concrete tomb for the dregs of the new order. This would be the powerhouse that took the armies of the Legion to the next heights of power, armed by the blood and tears of the scum of Terra.

Construction of Industrial District Lirnak began.

[GreekIdiot]

Yeudi Empire
Undisclosed location - Yishelem, November 5591

She looked at it; eyes burning with obsession, greed and hope for the good that would rain upon Terra and the Yeudi People.

More, she thought. 

Sponsored by the Holy Luthori Empire.

Bankrolled by the Empire of Canrille.

Empowered by the Empire of the Jelbic Peoples.

Enabled by the Anantonese Empire.

By the Neset. The Equifund. The Vamaj. The Bannerpakt. The AllComm. The MSCO. The 3rd Point Federation. All there.

The beginning of the end.

[Video: https://youtu.be/XMS6ETHX37M?si=8bKG5IyCZJPHMc3l]

[journey]

Stonewall, Cirrane, 20 November 5591
D'Ambray and Hampton both enter the private meeting room

"We certainly have drawn some attention to ourselves with our internationalist policy, didn't we?" Teobald broke the silence. The 44-year-old Prime Minister of Beluzia has been leading his nation for six years and has "invigorated" Beluzia in the eyes of its neighbours. D'Ambray's Labour Party has unseated the long-lasting Conservative governments for the first time in 50 years in a historic election, installing a new regime, which reshaped Beluzia's domestic and foreign policies.

"Well, look, Teb, it is our chance. We both worked so hard to achieve this, and it is working. You have to stay confident in a second term, that we can do it and more, we can make sure that Beluzia becomes not just relevant again, but that it becomes a leading force. Empires and major powers never last forever", D'Ambray's right hand and foreign minister Peggy Hampton has said. Hampton has led the efforts of the new Beluzian foreign policy and is currently regarded as the most powerful woman in Beluzia, and a successor to D'Ambray whenever he steps down.
Theobald pours some tea for both of them while saying nothing in response. He looks at her before saying, "Look, Peg, when I got into politics and founded Labour, my main goal was to bring change to Beluzia. I never saw myself as a strongman, who could be a 'father of the nation', leading us towards some major achievements. I am merely a transitionary premier. You are a strong and ambitious woman, you have served Beluzia for much longer than I did and ever will. I want you to lead Labour and the government. I've written a resignation letter today, and it's waiting its time after you agree to my proposal." Hampton looks with shock at him. She slowly stands from the table and goes to the window, while Theo quietly observes her.

"Caghlaa obbyr aash", she sighs. "Is there a specific reason you don't want to tell me? You've been so excited about our victory, about leading the nation. I refuse to believe you will just drop it all like that halfway", she says without facing him.

He waits for a minute, then another one, and two more, before finally saying, "I am terminally ill. I am dying. I have leukaemia, and doctors are predicting I have about a year or two, so I clearly can't 'believe' in our second term, as much as I wish to", he chuckles.
Both stay silent for a couple of minutes. Then, Peggy comes to Theobald, hugs him, and whispers in his ear: "I will gladly continue your work, and make you proud, promise.". She wipes tears from her eyes, before quietly leaving the room, leaving Theo alone, sipping now-cold tea.

Later that day, Prime Minister Theobald d'Ambray shocked the nation by announcing his resignation as the nation's head of government and the leader of the Labour Party, with his foreign minister Peggy Hampton succeeding him as both the Prime Minister and the Labour party leader.

[Doc]

Private Office of Her Imperial Majesty, Wilson House, Kaliburg, Ananto
Early January 5592, 3:55 pm

The Empress finished signing the paper that returned Likatonia to the Embargo list.  Dame Diane Bolton, the Chancellor of the Empire, countersigned the order with a sigh.  "Well, at least this one was easy," she said to the Empress.

"Well, at least its not like we are losing something we ever had," said the Empress with a sad smile.  "Dame Bolton, We have wracked our brains over the matter, and it simply doesn't make sense to us, perhaps you may provide us with your insight."

"How may I be of service, Your Imperial Majesty?"  said Dame Bolton.

The Empress signaled that she was stepping out of the Protocol, something she did more often in private these days.  "We...  I...  I don't understand what Likatonia is doing.  We know there are camps in Kundrati.  The fascists have admitted it.  What does Likatonia hope to gain, do you think, by tricking us into thinking they have turned their back on the fascists, and then as soon as we try to welcome them back, they immediately go right back and embrace the fascists again?  I can't fathom what the thought process behind the policy is."

"Your Imperial Majesty, if I may speak plainly," said Dame Bolton, not herself able to let go of the protocol even if she wanted to.

"Please, Dame Bolton," said the Empress.

"Well, perhaps it is time that you stopped worrying about Kundrati."

The Empress heard what she said, but it didn't register with her immediately.  "Madame, can you say that again?" said the Empress.

"My Lady, it is probably time for you to stop worrying about Kundrati.  They are nothing to Kalistan, they are nothing to the Anantonese Empire, except the thing that keeps Your Imperial Majesty awake at night.  The Blockade is years old.  It has done nothing to change anything in Kundrati.  In fact, it has made the fascists there more resolute than ever.  But it has also hurt this Empire, both economically, and in terms of our standing in this world.  It feels like an obsession with Your Imperial Majesty.  And it is not good for your health.  It has aged you.  Have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?  My Lady, you are losing weight, you are starting to wear darker colors, the joy in your life has gone away.  And for what?"

"Madame Chancellor, this is a principle," said the Empress.

"No My Lady.  It is not.  Why do these people vex you so?  This is what confuses me, Your Imperial Majesty.  They are no threat to our Empire.  Only your response to them is."

"Excuse me?" said the Empress.  "What does that mean?"

"Your Imperial Majesty, have you paid attention to the Finance Minister's briefings recently?" asked the Chancellor.

"Of course," said the Empress.  "All I ever do is look at her numbers, and read your reports, and Sir Christopher's Reports and the Defense Ministry's reports and go to briefings upon briefings about briefings..."

"My Lady, we had a good October.  We had a bad November and December."  The Empress' face seemed to ask what the Chancellor was talking about.  "See for yourself, My Lady.  These trends all point down for the foreseeable future, because you let those devils get under your skin and they have their hooks in you.  Its just what they want.  They win if you react.  Don't you see?"

The Empress snatched the reports.  "What are you talking about? This Executive summary said that things are picking up in October.  Is this report out of date?"

The Chancellor shook her head, "No My Lady, that report says they will pick up this COMING October, IF you were to end the blockade now.  If you take a look at page 14, you will see..."

The Empress glared at the report and turned to page 14.  "Madame Chancellor, these number are all bad.  I don't understand this report.  How can they have such a glowing executive summary and then show all of these trends in the dirt?  This says we're heading off a cliff!"

"My Lady, its because of the embargo.  It's killing our economy..."

"The Embargo is not killing the economy.  It is those god damned Kundratis..."

"It is the Embargo, Your Imperial Majes..." she was sharply cut off...

"It is the fascists, they are driving..."

"My Lady, if you would just..."

"You're wrong, Chancellor.  You are all wrong!  You want me to surrender my homeland to..."

"Listen to me, Carolina!" Dame Bolton knew it the moment the word came out of her mouth.  She had never... ever... spoken the Empress' name to the Empress before, not once in her entire life.  Referring to Her Imperial Majesty by her name when she was not immediate family was a serious violation of the law.  And the Chancellor had committed this act directly to the person of the Empress.  Both women were silent for a moment.  And then, the Chancellor went into automatic survival mode: Her only hope was to beg the forgiveness of Her Imperial Majesty, because she could not be sure that the Courts would have any mercy.  She immediately fell to her knees before her Empress and put her face to the carpet.

The Empress for her part was stunned that the Chancellor had uttered her name.  "The last person who called me that who was not my Husband was my mother..."  she sat, her voice trembling, as if she had been struck across the face.  She swallowed hard, and then said "Dame Bolton, please rise."

Dame Bolton remained where she was, afraid to move.

"Dame Bolton," she repeated.  "Please rise and stand before your Empress."  The Chancellor slowly rose to her knees, her face still looking squarely at the carpet, her mind furiously racing to prepare her explanation for her action.  Terrified, she slowly stood on her feet, but kept her eyes to the ground.  She was absolutely mortified and if she could turn invisible and escape, she would flee the country and never return.  Had she looked up, she would have seen the Dread Empress bathed in the golden sunlight of an early winter's afternoon that rolled through the window and illuminated her green eyes.  Her few gray hairs turned orange in the light and appeared like fire against her dark locks.  She was still beautiful, and in this light, it made her more terrible still.  But the Chancellor was too petrified to look.

Her Imperial Majesty abandoned the casualness of her previous language, and naturally adopted the high speech of her office.  "Madame, you have committed a grave offense against our person, which it is our duty to adjudicate here according to our law."  Dame Bolton stood motionless, petrified as stone, as the Empress spoke.  "That said, it is more in our interest that you continue to serve us, as you have, faithfully and loyally.  We therefore offer you our pardon without further prejudice, and enjoin you further to mind the Protocol when we are outside of this room.  However, within this room, we require your candor and your honesty, and wish you to know that you continue to enjoy our full confidence on all matters.  Do you understand us?"

Hearing the words of pardon, Dame Bolton dared to look at the Empress, whose face had grown softer, as her words softened.  She answered timidly, "Yes I do, Your Imperial Majesty."

The Empress nodded slightly.  "Let's forget about that.  Please retake your seat."  The Chancellor slowly sat back in her chair, the Empress' eyes locked onto hers, as if she was reading the Chancellor's mind.  

"Madame Chancellor," began the Empress again.  "We need help.  We cannot do this by ourselves.  We need your advice, and if what you propose makes sense, we will follow it."  The Empress, who had recently appeared as terrible as the Black Empress had ever been, now seemed smaller, weaker, and more... vulnerable.  

"Please..." said the Empress.  Suddenly, the Chancellor realized that of all the times the Empress had said please in the entire conversation this afternoon, she was merely being courteous while issuing orders, but this one felt not like a command, but like a genuine request.  The feeling of dread that the Chancellor had recently felt now felt more like pity.  Slowly, she nodded and the Empress smiled slightly.

"Your Imperial Majesty, may I call Sir Christopher?  We will need his help too."