[Amali - Friendlies] The Twines of Fate...
Jul 8, 2023 1:09:43 GMT -5
EpicToaster1, Greywall, and 1 more like this
Post by malloc on Jul 8, 2023 1:09:43 GMT -5
The letter sat on the President's desk, his eyes heavy with anxiety and sleep deprivation. In just two short years, the forty-something year old man had aged twenty years; his once pristine black hair had silvered up. A nervous tick developed: an insatiable tapping of fingers on the desk, the fiddling of a pen. Before him, sat the invitation to the SATO's military games. The President had made his mind up long before, but even more now given the growing hostilities and posturing in the region of the Sicilies. The winds were changing, and a fire was blazing down the hill.
The haggard man reached over and start zipping on a rotary phone, calling up the skeleton crew manning the telegram stations below.
"All embassies friendly to Amali. As much as the news may make it seem, this includes Kumosenkan."
...
"Yes, this includes the Touli nations."
...
...
...
"Tomorrow, early in the morning. Time is of the essence, and with... This..." His finger tapped, to absolutely no one else in the room, the telegram request. "This going on, we must make all aware. We know the plans, and the games must be pointed."
...
"Yes, I am aware this means Kumosenkan will likely be able to shore up its army. Unfortunately, we need it to function just as much as they'll need our factories."
...
"Thirty minutes after, I would like to speak with the Kumosenkan ambassador. Place a special meeting with the Pomazinniki, Dirian, and Nevarran representatives. The Kumosenkan ambassador will need to be there, yes. One thirty, they'll need lunch. Place a meeting with the Granuras Kingdoms for three thirty, I don't imagine it'll be much of an issue."
...
"Of course, thank you."
With a heavy click, the transponder rests on the chassis. The President turned his gaze, fixing it to the city outside. Two hundred years ago, this was a fishing town. One hundred years ago, the first lightbulb was lit in the city's streets. Fifty years ago, the city was considered one of the most luxurious in the world. A beacon for democracy after the fall of their northern brothers and sisters, a storied people building a city for the future.
Tomorrow, this city might disappear. Tomorrow, the children's park down the way may be strewn with blood and twisted metal. Concrete, metal, flesh, and sinew strewn about in a last ditch fight to make a bloody war bloodier for the conquering. A city built for the future, snuffed out and razed - taught her freedoms were mere accessories to her defeat. Her freedoms of commerce and association the seeds sown for the end of the Great Experiment.
Tomorrow, the city might grow, and her mortal enemies be rendered to the past. In turn, her twin must fall. He must be damned to the same fate he wishes upon his sister here. In turn, they will learn that the authoritative nature lead to instability and rigidity. That a modern peoples must learn to adapt and remain free to traverse, converse, and commerce.
Tomorrow brings only the promise of blood. The only certainty is the noose tightens on all sides while they battle on rickety stools hastily thrown together. The only certainty is death, and too much will be wrought.
A knock on the door shakes the man from his waking nightmare. A soft call from behind it, a response to enter. Tomorrow brings with it a new dawn as well. Not all cards must be shown, but the way forward must be paved in equity and common understanding that division means inevitable death.
A single telegram letter would go out to the friendly embassies in the Amalian capital:
- The UKUG,
- Lusatia,
- Kumosenkan,
- Nevarra,
- Pomazinniki,
- The Granuras Kingdoms,
- Marrland,
- Norkland,
- Ashinara,
- And all other governments deemed friendly to Amali who would be active in the outset of The War.
A single line, numbering no more than 15 cents (Amalian) arrives in each embassy.
"Of fire and brimstone, children o' Imel...
Your fates are tied to many,
Action defines you and yours,
Yet alone this cannot contend.
The Brimstone War comes."
The haggard man reached over and start zipping on a rotary phone, calling up the skeleton crew manning the telegram stations below.
"All embassies friendly to Amali. As much as the news may make it seem, this includes Kumosenkan."
...
"Yes, this includes the Touli nations."
...
...
...
"Tomorrow, early in the morning. Time is of the essence, and with... This..." His finger tapped, to absolutely no one else in the room, the telegram request. "This going on, we must make all aware. We know the plans, and the games must be pointed."
...
"Yes, I am aware this means Kumosenkan will likely be able to shore up its army. Unfortunately, we need it to function just as much as they'll need our factories."
...
"Thirty minutes after, I would like to speak with the Kumosenkan ambassador. Place a special meeting with the Pomazinniki, Dirian, and Nevarran representatives. The Kumosenkan ambassador will need to be there, yes. One thirty, they'll need lunch. Place a meeting with the Granuras Kingdoms for three thirty, I don't imagine it'll be much of an issue."
...
"Of course, thank you."
With a heavy click, the transponder rests on the chassis. The President turned his gaze, fixing it to the city outside. Two hundred years ago, this was a fishing town. One hundred years ago, the first lightbulb was lit in the city's streets. Fifty years ago, the city was considered one of the most luxurious in the world. A beacon for democracy after the fall of their northern brothers and sisters, a storied people building a city for the future.
Tomorrow, this city might disappear. Tomorrow, the children's park down the way may be strewn with blood and twisted metal. Concrete, metal, flesh, and sinew strewn about in a last ditch fight to make a bloody war bloodier for the conquering. A city built for the future, snuffed out and razed - taught her freedoms were mere accessories to her defeat. Her freedoms of commerce and association the seeds sown for the end of the Great Experiment.
Tomorrow, the city might grow, and her mortal enemies be rendered to the past. In turn, her twin must fall. He must be damned to the same fate he wishes upon his sister here. In turn, they will learn that the authoritative nature lead to instability and rigidity. That a modern peoples must learn to adapt and remain free to traverse, converse, and commerce.
Tomorrow brings only the promise of blood. The only certainty is the noose tightens on all sides while they battle on rickety stools hastily thrown together. The only certainty is death, and too much will be wrought.
A knock on the door shakes the man from his waking nightmare. A soft call from behind it, a response to enter. Tomorrow brings with it a new dawn as well. Not all cards must be shown, but the way forward must be paved in equity and common understanding that division means inevitable death.
A single telegram letter would go out to the friendly embassies in the Amalian capital:
- The UKUG,
- Lusatia,
- Kumosenkan,
- Nevarra,
- Pomazinniki,
- The Granuras Kingdoms,
- Marrland,
- Norkland,
- Ashinara,
- And all other governments deemed friendly to Amali who would be active in the outset of The War.
A single line, numbering no more than 15 cents (Amalian) arrives in each embassy.
Foreign Services Building. Conf Rm 205. Tomorrow. 0900.
"Of fire and brimstone, children o' Imel...
Your fates are tied to many,
Action defines you and yours,
Yet alone this cannot contend.
The Brimstone War comes."
