11th of Johannar, 1197 SA
Buerrenstadt, Capital of the Republic of Buerren
It's a strange feeling, climbing the last steps of a staircase that once seemed endless. You're no faster or slower than you were before, yet each step suddenly carries with it an unbearable weight of purpose.
It begins with a view of the end, the final steps now before you after years of only imagining them. Some paradoxical sense of surprise manifests soon after, as if you've forgotten that it was always your intention to reach this point.But you haven't forgotten. The goal has never left your mind's eye, having propelled your each and every step forward. And yet, that was all it was: propulsion; part of your routine, one which you now excel at. That reality, those skills... are you now prepared to abandon them? What is the reward for your sacrifice, the new reality that exists behind the veil of the staircase's end? Do you still want to take that last step and find out?
Such questions are important to ask, which is what makes them so cruel: they only come once you've passed the point of their necessity, once their gift of clarity becomes useless. When you find yourself there, at the beginning of the end, there is no clarity. There is only fear. Fear, and the view of the fall.
- \\//\\//\\// -
Within all the myriad nations of Man across the planet of Halrin, there were perhaps only a handful who would claim that government was a delightful place to be. The soullessness of statecraft seemed to be an inherent trait, transcending creed or culture. It always began as a hopeful endeavour, full of bright eyes that felt ready to change the world. But the harsh reality of governance was always quick to erode any sense of naivete.
And then there were special cases like the Republic of Buerren.
Here was a culture that not only viewed their Parliament with distrust, but outright contempt. Two and a half centuries had passed since the bloody Königsfälle Revolution catalysed the nation, yet anti-government attitudes continued to prevail. Given this sentiment, it's not hard to imagine the sunken faces that would make up such a Parliament. It's perhaps even harder to imagine that there was something that could cause those faces to fall even further.
But there was: A name... representative of that naivete which so many in this place had lost and now looked back upon with nothing but self-loathing.
"The Chair recognizes the Honourable Bennet Eigner from the Naógora Protectorate. Herr Eigner, please approach the Haltebuhn."
The moment the words left the Direktorin's lips, a chorus of dissenting whispers began to choke out the air within the Oberhaus, the Republic's Parliament building. Bennet knew the sound well; he'd heard it countless times over his two-year tenure as a Member of Parliament. Such is the duty of government, is it not? he thought. To speak for the unspeaking. The words, the morality, they rang true in his head. Yet somehow this place had a way of making him feel fraudulent. Breathe, Ben, it's alright. Today will be different. Just stick to the speech.
"Thank you, Frau Direktorin," Bennet said as he approached the Haltebuhn, a large cylindrical platform at the centre of the Oberhaus.
He was wearing the standard fare of Parliament: a black three-piece suit and trousers with an unbuttoned, knee-length overcoat. The dark hue paired well with the brighter chestnut-brown colour of his tousled hair and five o'clock shadow, which also stood him apart from the whitened heads sported by the aging MPs around him. Normally, being the only politician with visible vitality was a good thing, but the grey faces of his colleagues fit much better within the Oberhaus.
This was, by all accounts, a deeply oppressive place, devoid of even the smallest amount of aesthetic consideration. Rough concrete geometries built up all within these unhallowed halls, a testament to the deep resentment felt by the populace it was built to represent. Ben felt the resentment now, as he prepared himself to speak.
"Frau Direktorin, Members of Parliament, I rise today to present..."
A hundred eyes drifted elsewhere. There were yawns, side conversations. Members of his own opposition party plainly wore looks of indifference. Parliament had turned its back on him.
This part... it's less difficult when I don't need their attention; when I can talk and contend with their apathy. But I'll need it today... so what do I do? How do I pull their attention towards me? Think, Ben. This is a reactionary assembly; the old and decrepit who've only stayed this long because they enjoy the blood sport. It's fun they want, fun that my idealism doesn't give them. So shall I give them fun? Something to react to, to outrage against? Oh, very well.
"I am aware... aware of the criticisms that have been lobbied against me-"
"Herr Eigner," the Direktorin interrupted, "the Haltebuhn is not a bully pulpit for your personal gripes, and this is not a press conference. Keep to the agenda."
Bennet nodded politely, hiding the deep irritation that her shrill voice conjured within him. "Frau Direktorin, I assure you this concerns the motion I mean to present, if you would let me continue." The innocence in his voice was an act, but the Direktorin's begrudging nod meant it was enough.
He cleared his throat and scanned the interior once more. There were more eyes on him now, but he was looking for something specific. His gaze eventually reached the pencil-thin form of the majority party leader, Hannes Eisen. The corpse of a man was in the middle of a hearty conversation with the MP sitting beside him, chuckling loud enough for the sound to carry across the hall. Such things, which would easily erode the ego of a lesser man, did not penetrate Ben's practised austerity. What did, however, was the history he shared with the Eisen family. That was more than enough for him to stop scanning and lock his eyes upon the man. Hannes soon noticed, at which point Bennet began to speak.
"I am aware of the criticisms that have been lobbied against me," he bellowed, his gaze still fixed. "The notion that I prioritize the native Orahni population in my city over the Buerrenan. That my outside education somehow makes me a traitor to this nation's free-market Löweist values. That I am a closet advocate of the growing Anti-Löweist Movement as a result of this education. There are others, though some border on ridiculous hearsay unfit for this place. Having now served two years as a member of this body, I have come to terms with my position as the scapegoat for your strawman arguments."
Groans began to ring throughout the chamber, with some MPs calling for the Direktorin to remove Ben from the Haltebuhn altogether. Eisen simply lifted an eyebrow, smiling mockingly. Bennet countered with his own sardonic grin, surrounded by the cacophony of protest. There it was, the attention he'd needed... and so comically easy too. Now, onto business. I hope you're ready, Ada.
"And yet!" Bennet continued, "there are a great many problems plaguing this Republic for which we can agree on a solution! I need not remind you how many we've lost to the Arboreal War; how many lay slain between the trees of the Arborous while our enemies advance ever southward! I certainly commend our forebearers for keeping our northern border secure, but can we honestly say we've made any progress in ending this war? We fixate on solutions of industry, new weapons that will surely finish a job that's now gone on for two hundred years, but we've come no closer to the end! Every advancement is matched by the rabid zealotry of the Jedovites or the totalitarian bloodlust of the Lourettians! The proof is our children, our siblings, our parents... the faces of our fallen. Friends, taken away because we did not look where we needed to sooner. Too many years have passed since our ignorance became unacceptable, and so I urge you now to look. Look where we must:
"It has been six months since the Bellarivan monarchy signed their peace treaty with the Kingdoms of Rendain. Six months we have waited to see if this peace would hold, and I believe enough time has now passed to declare that it has. Their union has made them stronger, and their own conflicts against the Jedovites make them our potential allies; in the case of Bellariva, an ally with a considerable Orahni population in its southern region. Members, I know your constituents relish your anti-Orahni rhetoric, but I have yet to take part in such pandering. My sincere representation of every member of my city, Buerrenan or otherwise, gives me a unique advantage among us, an advantage I want to leverage for the good of those friends yet fallen. Thus, the motion I present is the Southern Vanguard Act. Allow me to use my relationship with the Orahni to unite us with our eastern neighbours. Only then might we finally have a chance to free the north of these fanatical regimes! To break the iron circle of this Arboreal War and change the very paradigm! Frau Direktorin, I relinquish the remainder of my time."
With a curt bow, Bennet stepped off the Haltebuhn and returned to his seat. A loose scattering of applause filled the chamber around him, though it felt more confused than empowered; he had made a fair case, but relinquishing so early was unusual. That was fine by him. Unanswered questions meant more focus on the Southern Vanguard Act and less focus on the words he'd snuck into the end of his speech.
As Bennet sat, the MP to his right tapped on his shoulder.
"Eigner," the MP whispered, "what in Löwe's name was that!?"
"Good afternoon to you too, Erik," Bennet replied.
"It didn't cross your addled mind to coordinate with the rest of the party!? Velhaas was going to propose the same position tomorrow, and now we have this mess to deal with!"
Bennet felt his body tense up in deep frustration, a feeling he gathered and released through his next words. "How long have you kept my office shut out, Erik? How many initiatives have passed me by, because you couldn't be bothered to keep me in the loop? I've made my peace with the party's alienation, but you don't get to throw a fit when I pull out ahead.
"Erik's face reddened with anger, though he kept his voice low as another MP stepped onto the Haltebuhn. "You want to know why we don't keep you in the loop, Eigner? You're a disease," he hissed, "poison to this party! Every motion you touch withers and dies with your name, which you seem intent on dragging through the fucking dirt! So you listen to me... closely. You're going to back down and let Velhaas take the lead. She has friends on the majority side, she can work this motion properly! Yes?!"
"Those are the friends you should be worried about, not me," Ben shot back.
"I- no. No, no, I am not lecturing you on this again. How many times-"
"Then don't, Erik. There's a very real chance I'll keel over and die if you try to regale me with your tales of bipartisan heroism."
"You think this is funny, Ben? Do you see me laughing? Is there a smile on my face? How dare you make light of this! There's a war going on and you're politicizing it! And you have the gall to turn on us, simply because the path to real legislation doesn't involve you. You're a selfish, egotistic..."
Ben's attention drifted as Erik began his tirade, one he'd heard many times before. Meanwhile, the MP on the Haltebuhn began presenting their own motion. The voices soon began to tangle and soften, eventually fading into white noise.
None of it matters, not really, he thought. Whether or not Parliament passed the motion, most of Buerren's fighting force was privatised. If the state refused to enter foreign negotiations, Senheisen would. The arms company had significant holdings in both Bellariva and Rendain, enough to curry favour with their monarchies and form the southern vanguard that Ben had called for. That was a good thing, he supposed, but the lack of agency angered him. It always had. This was the place where these things were supposed to be decided. This building, these people.
Ben's inner pocket began to feel heavy as these thoughts circled his head. It was a familiar feeling, one that often returned in these moments when he became harshly sober to the Republic's state of polity. And, just as he'd done those many times before, Ben reached his hand to feel for the pocket. Under the thick wool of his suit, he heard the soft crinkling of old parchment, folded neatly and tucked out of sight. There it would stay, for the words it carried had long since been etched into Ben's mind. When faced with the fear of forgetting them, he only needed to hear the paper to be reminded again. Reminded of his oath, his ideals. His manifesto.
- \\//\\//\\// -
"Ada, read me the names," Ben said as he descended the outer steps of the Oberhaus. There was a chill in the air, an uncommon occurrence in the north tropics. Twirling winds swept newspapers across the concrete plaza in front of the building. Far above, the Republic's signature emerald green and grey were caught in the same winds, the flag fabric threatening to tear itself from a pole that had long needed replacing.
As he reached the bottom step, a shorter woman appeared from behind him. Her face was pointed and rigid, permanently shaped into a look of extreme focus that partnered well with her finely tailored pantsuit. The ensemble was made complete by her round spectacles, which she pushed up her brow as she read through her notes.
"I caught Preisner, Tillich, and Horne. Each of them squinted at 'iron circle' and shared a look at 'paradigm.'"
"You're confident of this?" Ben asked, making his way towards a horse-drawn carriage parked on the side of the road.
"Reasonably confident for the first two. I'm sure of Horne, sir," she replied."Good, then we'll start with him. I want a shortlist of operatives by tomorrow night-"
"It's done," Ada interrupted. "I know who we want."
Ben paused his gait for a moment, shooting Ada a quizzical look. Her face remained unreadable, as per usual.
"Oh? Who do you have?"
"Do you remember the Kiyokawan Aid Package I worked on for Frau Velhaas two years ago?" Ada asked as the two stepped into the carriage.
"I'd be hard-pressed to forget it. It's why I hired you, after all."
"Yes, sir. Though you're not entirely correct. The speech was why you hired me, and my alignment with your politics is why I lied and accepted."
Ben cocked his head. "Lied?"
"I may have been Frau Velhaas' aide at the time, but I didn't write that speech. I want to bring in the woman who did."
Ada reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture, showing it to Ben. He recognized the location immediately, an old bench on Buerrenstadt's southern port. Sitting there were two women wearing floral summer dresses. Their faces seemed identical, though the blurry picture quality didn't help in differentiating them. Ada noticed the confusion before taking the picture back.
"They're twins, sir. I didn't interact with the sister much, but it seems they only work together."
"Twins... identical!? Is it hard to tell?" Plots and schemes were already speeding through his head as he asked.
"Upon first meeting... I'd say they're nearly indiscernible, though the effect wears off quickly. Still, it's quite a sight to see."
"Oh fantastic, Ada! And the names! What are their names?"
"Lydia and Marie Terell. Lydia is the writer, and the sister... I'm not quite sure. A mercenary, perhaps? She was the more physically able of the two."
Ben nodded intently. They're on the younger side, probably late twenties based on the picture... but it's certainly no measure of their skill... the skill of the writer, at least. I won't soon forget the poetry in Velhaas' speech, enough poetry to spur Parliament into approving nearly two million halia worth of aid. I need that poetry now, I need persuasion. And a near-identical mercenary as an adjunct only makes the deal better. Horne's a slippery bastard, after all...
"How soon can I meet them?" Ben eventually asked.
"Kostas intercepted a radiotelegraph from Senheisen yesterday. It seems the Terells have concluded their business in Hranost and are bound for Eisehafen. They'll reach the port in seven days' time. If you wish, I can arrange for you to meet them when they land."
"See it done. And just get the one ticket," Ben said.
"You don't want me to come with you?"
"We've sent a message out now. I expect Senheisen will come knocking on our door very soon, so I'll need you here to man the fort. And to protect Kostas. I'd rather we don't lose our wunderkind after only a few months."
Ben gave Ada an expectant look, to which she nodded.
"Very well... Do stay safe, sir. It's as you've said, we've sent a message out."
The staircase, the last steps. Ben felt the fear once more, hearing his own words reflected back at him. He'd done it, he'd fully abandoned the comfort of mundanity. The last step had been taken, and only time would tell if there was a place to land behind the veil. But then, that was the funny thing about the unknown. With the fear of it came a thrilling curiosity that could not be stifled. A splintering path at the end of the climb, a freedom of an unknowable future. There was nothing to say to that, to Ada. Nothing that would do justice to what was about to happen. And so he did as a politician oft does when they find themselves at a lack for words: he smiled.