Post by callmedelta on Jan 2, 2021 20:52:35 GMT -5
Parliament had been abuzz ever since they had received the news of Kumosenkan's border shutdown. Director Poirot had assured the MPs that a border reopening was just around the corner, but until then, the people needed something, and Monteaux would give it to them. If only he could convince those idiots the rest of his countrymen called MPs to listen to him.
"I'm telling you Lucas, your plan is too expensive!" Louis Marpellier exclaimed from across the table in one of the many high end cafes that serviced Pareau's elites. The two men were in their private meeting room, in Louis's cafe of choice, debating what to do in response to the border. "I have told you that your welfare plans are too expensive, even in the best of times, but you want to enact them now?!"
"Do you think the people on the streets care whether this plan is too expensive or not?" Monteaux shot back, "'Oh no,' they'll say, 'We may be starving in the streets because we're out of a job, but at least we can still make debt repayments to Nevarra.' This is a coalition, Louis, the PPL does not rule alone."
"Of course we don't, Monteaux. I gave you your Ministry of Labor and Welfare, I gave you a five-day workweek, but I put my foot down here!" Marpellier punctuated his point with a literal stomp of his foot." The room quieted after that, the tense air between the two only increasing in severity in the silence.
Finally, Lucas broke the silence. "One. Hundred. Lira."
"What?" Louis said.
"I said one hundred Lira. I want to give everyone who has been put out of work by the border shutdown one hundred Lira a week, and fifty Lira more for every family member they supported," Monteaux said. There was no anger or rage in his voice, just a simple cold steel to the words that pierced Marpellier even more than the anger or rage would have.
"Don't be stupid, Monteaux, we-"
"Two hundred Lira. Two hundred Lira or I walk," Lucas said, his voice unchanged.
"I'm telling you Lucas, we can't afford-"
"Three hundred."
Louis sighed. "I will do fifty Lira, Monteaux. Any more than that is complete and utter budget suicide. I am already going to have a headache trying to fit out what to cut to stay afloat, but anymore than fifty is going to make it impossible."
Lucas could hold his rage no longer. "Fifty Lira! That wine you are drinking costs fifty Lira a glass. You honestly expect the Franch people to live off a glass of wine!"
"That is all we can afford, Lucas, and if you do not like it, than you can walk," Louis said, his eyes staring a straight into Lucas's own. Wordlessly, Lucas Monteaux walked out of the room, his answer given. 'Pah, that boy will come crawling back,' Louis thought, pouring himself another glass, 'He needs this coalition more than I do.'
Paul Doriot sat in his Pareau office, phone in hand. Filing cabinets stretched from wall to wall, the only break being the small window to the man's right. The office didn't need to be pretty, the only men who had ever been inside were other party officials and his secretary with the occasional note. 'Speak of the devil,' Paul thought as Ms. Secaire's tell-tale knock knock knock gave way to her face peaking through the doorway. "Forgive me for a moment, Renault, my secretary has something for me," the man said, placing his hand over the receiver of the phone.
"You have a guest, Mr. Doriot," Secaire said, her voice quiet like usual.
"I don't have any meetings today. Who is it?" Doriot asked, his voice sharp and cold.
"It's Lucas Monteaux, sir, the leader of the-"
"I know who Monteaux, is," Doriot snapped, "I sit in the same room as the man almost every day. Why is he in my office?"
"H-He didn't say, sir, just that it was urgent," Secaire stammered out.
'Monteaux coming to me, and not Marpellier?' Doriot thought, 'This must be interesting.' "Send him in," Doriot took his hand off of the receiver, "Something has just came up, Renault, this conversation must wait for another time. Goodbye." Just as Doriot hung up the phone, Lucas Monteaux entered the room. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Monteaux?" Doriot asked, his voice now overly and artifically sweet.
"I need the PSF's help to pass a bill," Monteaux said, taking a seat. Almost immediately after he did, Lucas began to beat his foot against the floor in the most annoying of noises, but Doriot knew not to let it get to him. Or at least, not to show it.
"Why not ask Marpellier?" Doriot asked, "After all, are you two not in a coalition, or is there trouble in paradise?"
"Cut the crap, Paul," Monteaux snapped back. No one but inner party elites ever used Doriot's first name, but he chose to let it slide for now, better to hear what the man had to say. "The people of Franerre need help, but Louis will give them crumbs and call it a feast. That man does not care about the Franch people, and if there's one man who cares about the Franch people in his own, twisted way, it's you."
"Ever one to 'cut the crap,' as you say," Doriot said, "But I will hear you out. What is your plan that has Marpellier in such a fuss that you would come to me?"
"The Franch people need money, and what's on the books already isn't enough," Lucas said, "So I proposed that everyone who is out of work be granted one hundred Lira a week, with an additional fifty for every dependent. Louis wanted to give them half of that."
Doriot chuckled, "That would certainly put Marpellier in a fuss. So here you are, before me." Doriot paused, stroking his chin in thought. He didn't need to do much thinking, but Doriot enjoyed seeing the man squirm. "I don't know if one hundred Lira is possible, I'm afraid." Monteaux stood up, ready to give some fiery retort with a look of disgust on his face, before Doriot beat him to the punch, "But, I can give you a better deal than Marpellier." Hearing this, Lucas sat back down, though the look of disgust didn't fade. "Seventy five Lira a week, with an additional thirty five for every dependent. Unless you want to go back to Marpellier, that is your best deal."
"What does that deal cost, though?" Monteaux asked. Wordlessly, Doriot stood up and walked over to one of the many filing cabinets and opened it, pulling a folder out, handing it to Lucas. The folder read 'Franch Radio Deregulation Bill.'
"Get the SNF to sign off on this bill, and the PSF will help you with yours," Doriot said.
"What do you get out of this, Paul?" Lucas asked. Again, with that first name. Doriot clenched his fist in rage behind his back.
"It's quite simple, really. Currently, only one radio station in Franerre holds a host of special government privilages, the Alcasse Broadcasting Corporation, who incidentally donate quite a lot to the PPL. These laws made sense when it was the only radio station with the power to broadcast nationally, but those days are long gone. This bill simply allows any station those same privileges," Doriot said, with a sweetly sinister smile.
Monteaux stared at Doriot. His explanation would have made sense, if not for one thing. He was right that the ABC were the only radio company with a national reach, but those days weren't long gone. They still held a practical monopoly on the radio business, and Doriot must have knew that. Still, Lucas wasn't in a position to refuse. "Alright, the SNF will sign on your bill, as long as you sign on ours."
Doriot smiled, quickly retrieving a bottle of wine and two glasses from inside his desk. "A toast," he said, "to the health of Franerre in these trying times." Doriot poured two glasses, offering one to Monteaux.
Lucas took the glass. "A toast."
"I'm telling you Lucas, your plan is too expensive!" Louis Marpellier exclaimed from across the table in one of the many high end cafes that serviced Pareau's elites. The two men were in their private meeting room, in Louis's cafe of choice, debating what to do in response to the border. "I have told you that your welfare plans are too expensive, even in the best of times, but you want to enact them now?!"
"Do you think the people on the streets care whether this plan is too expensive or not?" Monteaux shot back, "'Oh no,' they'll say, 'We may be starving in the streets because we're out of a job, but at least we can still make debt repayments to Nevarra.' This is a coalition, Louis, the PPL does not rule alone."
"Of course we don't, Monteaux. I gave you your Ministry of Labor and Welfare, I gave you a five-day workweek, but I put my foot down here!" Marpellier punctuated his point with a literal stomp of his foot." The room quieted after that, the tense air between the two only increasing in severity in the silence.
Finally, Lucas broke the silence. "One. Hundred. Lira."
"What?" Louis said.
"I said one hundred Lira. I want to give everyone who has been put out of work by the border shutdown one hundred Lira a week, and fifty Lira more for every family member they supported," Monteaux said. There was no anger or rage in his voice, just a simple cold steel to the words that pierced Marpellier even more than the anger or rage would have.
"Don't be stupid, Monteaux, we-"
"Two hundred Lira. Two hundred Lira or I walk," Lucas said, his voice unchanged.
"I'm telling you Lucas, we can't afford-"
"Three hundred."
Louis sighed. "I will do fifty Lira, Monteaux. Any more than that is complete and utter budget suicide. I am already going to have a headache trying to fit out what to cut to stay afloat, but anymore than fifty is going to make it impossible."
Lucas could hold his rage no longer. "Fifty Lira! That wine you are drinking costs fifty Lira a glass. You honestly expect the Franch people to live off a glass of wine!"
"That is all we can afford, Lucas, and if you do not like it, than you can walk," Louis said, his eyes staring a straight into Lucas's own. Wordlessly, Lucas Monteaux walked out of the room, his answer given. 'Pah, that boy will come crawling back,' Louis thought, pouring himself another glass, 'He needs this coalition more than I do.'
Paul Doriot sat in his Pareau office, phone in hand. Filing cabinets stretched from wall to wall, the only break being the small window to the man's right. The office didn't need to be pretty, the only men who had ever been inside were other party officials and his secretary with the occasional note. 'Speak of the devil,' Paul thought as Ms. Secaire's tell-tale knock knock knock gave way to her face peaking through the doorway. "Forgive me for a moment, Renault, my secretary has something for me," the man said, placing his hand over the receiver of the phone.
"You have a guest, Mr. Doriot," Secaire said, her voice quiet like usual.
"I don't have any meetings today. Who is it?" Doriot asked, his voice sharp and cold.
"It's Lucas Monteaux, sir, the leader of the-"
"I know who Monteaux, is," Doriot snapped, "I sit in the same room as the man almost every day. Why is he in my office?"
"H-He didn't say, sir, just that it was urgent," Secaire stammered out.
'Monteaux coming to me, and not Marpellier?' Doriot thought, 'This must be interesting.' "Send him in," Doriot took his hand off of the receiver, "Something has just came up, Renault, this conversation must wait for another time. Goodbye." Just as Doriot hung up the phone, Lucas Monteaux entered the room. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Monteaux?" Doriot asked, his voice now overly and artifically sweet.
"I need the PSF's help to pass a bill," Monteaux said, taking a seat. Almost immediately after he did, Lucas began to beat his foot against the floor in the most annoying of noises, but Doriot knew not to let it get to him. Or at least, not to show it.
"Why not ask Marpellier?" Doriot asked, "After all, are you two not in a coalition, or is there trouble in paradise?"
"Cut the crap, Paul," Monteaux snapped back. No one but inner party elites ever used Doriot's first name, but he chose to let it slide for now, better to hear what the man had to say. "The people of Franerre need help, but Louis will give them crumbs and call it a feast. That man does not care about the Franch people, and if there's one man who cares about the Franch people in his own, twisted way, it's you."
"Ever one to 'cut the crap,' as you say," Doriot said, "But I will hear you out. What is your plan that has Marpellier in such a fuss that you would come to me?"
"The Franch people need money, and what's on the books already isn't enough," Lucas said, "So I proposed that everyone who is out of work be granted one hundred Lira a week, with an additional fifty for every dependent. Louis wanted to give them half of that."
Doriot chuckled, "That would certainly put Marpellier in a fuss. So here you are, before me." Doriot paused, stroking his chin in thought. He didn't need to do much thinking, but Doriot enjoyed seeing the man squirm. "I don't know if one hundred Lira is possible, I'm afraid." Monteaux stood up, ready to give some fiery retort with a look of disgust on his face, before Doriot beat him to the punch, "But, I can give you a better deal than Marpellier." Hearing this, Lucas sat back down, though the look of disgust didn't fade. "Seventy five Lira a week, with an additional thirty five for every dependent. Unless you want to go back to Marpellier, that is your best deal."
"What does that deal cost, though?" Monteaux asked. Wordlessly, Doriot stood up and walked over to one of the many filing cabinets and opened it, pulling a folder out, handing it to Lucas. The folder read 'Franch Radio Deregulation Bill.'
"Get the SNF to sign off on this bill, and the PSF will help you with yours," Doriot said.
"What do you get out of this, Paul?" Lucas asked. Again, with that first name. Doriot clenched his fist in rage behind his back.
"It's quite simple, really. Currently, only one radio station in Franerre holds a host of special government privilages, the Alcasse Broadcasting Corporation, who incidentally donate quite a lot to the PPL. These laws made sense when it was the only radio station with the power to broadcast nationally, but those days are long gone. This bill simply allows any station those same privileges," Doriot said, with a sweetly sinister smile.
Monteaux stared at Doriot. His explanation would have made sense, if not for one thing. He was right that the ABC were the only radio company with a national reach, but those days weren't long gone. They still held a practical monopoly on the radio business, and Doriot must have knew that. Still, Lucas wasn't in a position to refuse. "Alright, the SNF will sign on your bill, as long as you sign on ours."
Doriot smiled, quickly retrieving a bottle of wine and two glasses from inside his desk. "A toast," he said, "to the health of Franerre in these trying times." Doriot poured two glasses, offering one to Monteaux.
Lucas took the glass. "A toast."