McMasterdonian Political Crisis [IC] [CLOSED]

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Dear Amira,

Despite recent events I write to you with some optimism.

According to Gen. Broussier, it would seem that an end to this war may be in sight. The Patriarchate has never been weaker than they are now, though they still lash out with some sting. While I am very saddened to hear of the recent attack and of those who perished, I sleep better knowing that the times where the Patriarchate is capable of such an act will come to an end sooner rather than later. For that, I congratulate you. We'll beat this together.

Unfortunately, my dear, I also write also to you with some concern. Gen. Broussier has also kept me up-to-date about the tactics and decisions made by McMasterdonian military forces at your behest, and it is about this that I wish to speak with you the most.

Necessity is a demanding thing. It presses itself upon the mind. It forces hard circumstance and harder choices. Many have made questionable decisions under such conditions. Many have used necessity as an irrefutable argument, a blanket allowance to commit acts unideal or worse, unspeakable. While great leaders have risen out of these moments, so too have such times bred tyrants and despots. While some of this latter category are cruel and greedy in nature, seizing an opportunity for power, others fall into it believing all along that they do the right thing. A sacrifice or compromise of their character for the greater good that sometimes becomes permanent.

The people of our nations, however, do not always know or care to learn the intent or need behind these choices, while they are often concerned or affected by their results. In these dire times, your citizens, your armies, and your allies watch closely the actions you've taken. While I understand better than most the rough waters you sail through and the anger you may feel, I caution you my dear, to avoid painting yourself in the image of the tyrant you deposed with the fickle brush of necessity. It is a portrait not pleasantly looked upon, nor is it easily re-drawn.

Do not let these times reshape you, whom I look so fondly upon.


With great sincerity,

Amelia
 
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Your Majesty, King Sherwin V,

I return your well wishes of Peace and Prosperity to you and to your House and thank you for your letter.

In McMasterdonia, we believe that when a blade lies close to the throat of a Serpent, one must not hesitate. Would you trust such a Serpent to be true to his word? Is this the diplomacy you seek? Do you truly ask that I, a just and honourable Sovereign of the McMasterdonians, negotiate with one who's venomous words have brought so much suffering to my people. This cannot happen.

My people are fatigued of the war, but they will not tolerate a leader that capitulates to an enemy. Particularly an enemy that is gasping for air as the waves of our victory wash upon him. McMasterdonia will always remain whole, as it has done for more than two thousand years. We shall not rest until the Patriarchate and all other secessionist or traitorous elements in McMasterdonia are defeated.

The only solution to this conflict is the unyielding resolve of the McMasterdonian people to eliminate enemies wherever they shall reside. My people are committed to laying down their lives to preserve this Kingdom, as am I. As is the Prince. The only time we shall ever be in the presence of an enemy of the McMasterdonian people, it will not be to talk or play diplomat. It will be to hold their severed head up above the crowds gathered in Intelligentsia Square. Only then, will there be peace.




Yours truly,
Amira
Queen Mother of the McMasterdonians​

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Dear Amelia,

My dearest niece, I write with the strongest of love and faith in my heart. Please give my well wishes to your Mother. The Prince does miss you and her so much. I hope we may receive you in Intelligentsia soon.

General Broussier is quite correct. The boot of justice are firmly pressed upon the throat of the Archbishop and the most loyal of his supporters. Their constant acts of brutality, unlike any we have not seen in some years, continue to strengthen my resolve to see this conflict to a swift conclusion. Such would not be possible without the continued support of yourself and the Plembobrians in particular. Since the attack we have also seen increased interest from the Empire of Syrixia in the conflict. We may yet see an even greater allied involvement for the final push to Cape El.

In McMasterdonia, we believe that finishing this conflict is not simply about necessity but about the survival of our culture and heritage. It is about our long term stability. We cannot allow the opportunity to the traitors to regroup and once more attempt to desecrate the most sacred of McMasterdonian sites in the name of ideology; whether that be democracy or religiosity. Such ideals are foreign to the McMasterdonian cause and must remain so.

You yourself have seen the terrible pain of exile from your home. The traitors that we face here would not allow the option of exile either to me or to my grandson. You have seen what they did to my own son. Despite his flaws, he did not deserve to be strung up in the street like a vulgar decoration of their brutality. How they assassinated my daughter on foreign soil. No McMasterdonian should ever die in another's home.

These traitors would desecrate my body and drag Richard through the streets of McMasterdonia. I fear that should there be a resurgence that Intelligentsia will not have the capabilities to hold them off. I fear even more that such a resurgence may come ten years or more from now, when our institutions have become comfortable and inattentive to our security.

My people are fatigued of the war, but they will not tolerate a leader that capitulates to an enemy, or leaves them exposed to further attack. Particularly an enemy that is gasping for air as the waves of our victory wash upon him. We cannot allow these enemies the opportunity to deceive us once more. They will have no place in our institutions of state. They will have no opportunity to amass influence and wealth once more. They shall only have the opportunity to meet their maker. The traitors will continue to meet a traitors death, as is fitting. They shall be replaced with new and loyal houses to the throne. Many of my most loyal of soldiers will be rewarded with respective titles and asked to help us hold the peace when Richard takes the throne. This will be a very trying time and our enemies will aim to exploit any weaknesses they can. I cannot allow any traitor to return to a leadership role in any County, Earldom or Duchy in this country, for this reason.

The only solution to this conflict is the unyielding resolve of the McMasterdonian people to eliminate enemies wherever they shall reside. My people are committed to laying down their lives to preserve this Kingdom, as am I. As is the Prince. The only time we shall ever allow a traitor to return to our presence will be at the time of their death. It will be to hold their severed head up above the crowds gathered in Intelligentsia Square. Only then, will there be peace.




Yours truly,
Amira
Queen Mother of the McMasterdonians​
 
Isabella, The Isles

The instructions had been quite clear. A public boat from Intelligentsia to what was once the port of Castello. From there she caught a public bus to the small airport of Ceburtu. Then a light aircraft to Isabella.

And now here she stood, in the Hall of Kian, in the Ancient Castle of Isabella. Waiting for a highly confidential meeting with the Council. "Do not inform the Queen" she had been told. Jessica could only imagine what they could be up to, to have summoned her in this matter. Nevertheless, whether it was her curiosity or own sense of bravado that had brought her to Isabella, here she was. Ready to here what they had to say.

It was Princess Farah that emerged first from the Chamber. Without making a sound, she had beckoned for Jessica to follow her. Down a poorly lit hallway. Up a couple of steps. Through a door and into a tower. Then finally into a room. Inside the room were three other members of the Council, Prince Cyrus, Prince Alexander, and Prince Demetrius, brothers of the late King Kian. Two members were missing.

"Are we waiting on the other Councillors?" Jessica asked as she curtsied politely.
"They shall not be joining us." Princess Farah replied as she sat down at a table at the centre of the tower. "With the four of us, we constitute a majority of the Council."

Silence permeated the room for a moment as Jessica contemplated what she was hearing. It was most unusual for a meeting of this nature without the full council present.

Prince Alexander smiled as he took out a flask from his overcoat and took a swig. "We will be issuing a directive that you are obligated to implement immediately" he said.

"And what is it, that you wish for me to implement?" Jessica asked.

"We have heard that our allies grow frustrated with this war effort. As do we." Prince Alexander said. "It must be brought to a swift and proper conclusion. You must write to King Sherwin V of Esplandia and agree to his offer to host negotiations."

"The Queen Mother has already rejected this offer of negotiations." Jessica replied.

It was at this moment that the Princess Farah stood once more, and placing both her hands upon the table, she lent in closely to Jessica and said "The Queen Mother will no longer be of concern".

"You.. cannot be serious?" Jessica asked.

"Oh, we are serious." Princess Farah replied. "The four of us will issue a second directive that requires the immediate removal of the Queen Mother and the Prince Richard from power. You will place the Queen Mother under house arrest in Castle Fortescue until her trial. The Prince Richard will be confined to the Tiyiddes Palace."

Jessica could not believe what she was hearing. It had been centuries since the Royal Council had removed a regent, and knew they would not stop there.

"The Prince will remain confined until his ascension to the throne?"

"The Prince's services in that respect, will no longer be required." Prince Alexander commented "He will be removed from the line of succession. Prince Demetrius will become the new King of the McMasterdonians. He has the support of Council. Upon his death, the throne will pass to the Princess Farah, and then to myself or Prince Cyrus".

Prince Demetrius who was well into his nineties did not say anything, but simply stared off into the distance. His senility easy to see to even the untrained eye.

"You have risen far, Jessica." Princess Farah said "But you can rise even further. We represent the future of this country. The prosperous peaceful future. Amira represents the past and Richard represents nothing. He will never be anymore than a puppet King."

"You must go now and fulfil your obligations to the Kingdom and to the Royal House." Prince Cyrus said to Jessica. "Let us unshackle ourselves from a ruler who has no right to speak for a people of whom she does not belong. See that it is done by tomorrow evening. Peace will prevail."

This concluded the meeting and Jessica left the room in a state of stunned disbelief. Her own ambition had seen her rise to the Chancellorship despite lacking any noble blood. The road to power had been littered with betrayed confidences, destroyed friendships, and neglected relationships. But this was something that not even she had contemplated. For now it was time for her to return to Intelligentsia, and to hope that this plot had not already been discovered.


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Your Majesty, King Sherwin V,

I write to you with the highest degree of confidentiality, and I pray that you shall keep this to your confidence or destroy this letter before further reading.

I write on behalf of the people of the Kingdom of McMasterdonia. The McMasterdonian people desire peace with the Patriarchate and an end to this long lasting war. There are calls for reform and democracy that remain unanswered out of fear. Desperate pleas for assistance and medical care that are ignored out of callousness. The war is taking an unsustainable toll on the happiness and future of an entire generation of McMasterdonian youth. They are unable to gain an education and are unable to find employment. Many meet their deaths upon the battlefield well before they could have legally attended College or consumed a drink in a bar.

We are willing to negotiate with the strongest of faith with the Patriarchate to ensure that this war comes to a swift conclusion. We are willing to discuss a Constitutional Convention and a complete change of Government of the Kingdom of McMasterdonia. The Queen Mother and her son, the Prince Richard may not have any part in these negotiations, for we wish to negotiate these matters privately to ensure that a sustainable agreement can be reached.

The only solution to this conflict is for us to negotiate in good faith. The Archbishop will never agree to negotiations with the Royal Family. The Royal Family will never agree to negotiations with the Archbishop. It is a reasonable and fitting compromise that I negotiate with the Archbishop on behalf of the McMasterdonians as their elected representative. I ask that you consider this request in the strongest possible terms and that you extend the offer of negotiations to the Archbishop for negotiations. Should he agree to meet, we can negotiate a peaceful settlement to this conflict and would gladly accept your offer of hosting.

Should you be unable to meet this request for assistance, please do not reply and simply destroy this letter immediately. Without your support, there is no future for a peaceful settlement of the McMasterdonian crisis or a foreseeable end to the war.


Yours faithfully,
Jessica Whitwell
Chancellor of His Majesty's Government​








 
2:13 AM
An office of the Queen-Empress


Isaac Oudinot much preferred diplomatic means. While other leaders during the course of that civil war on Archlancer Island knew what needed to be done to succeed in the fighting, Oudinot had an idea of how to run the country in peacetime. It was no surprise that he held a seat in the first parliament and was eventually elected Prime Minister of The Lancerian Empire. Time and time again he had proven solid judgement and resolve. He had earned the trust of Amelia’s father as an ally in the civil war and entering his elder years the trust of Amelia herself as a leader of the united nation. An old man with an old habit meant that somewhere in the lining of his jacket were two revolvers, a small symbol of a nation at war.

In the middle of the night, within the dim light of a desktop lamp, he sat asleep.

Across the desk from him, in the light of a computer monitor, Amelia looked tired. Information received in the morning had forced them to make a choice. The Empire owed a great debt to those who had called for her aid in this fight. Though they had answered the call and fought well, inaction here would render all that worthless. It would leave their efforts in vain.

The aging Oudinot and herself had drawn upon all their expertise, spent all day considering their options, and failed to find an alternative. Both despised intrigue of this sort. Neither sought to play games with the lawful systems of other nations, and now they would be going against a well-established part of the legal system in McMasterdonia to ensure that the side of a now controversial ally won out.

She recalled a promise she once made to herself and promptly broke it. A button was pressed and a message sent. She rose from her chair and quietly left the room.




Despite the chaos of his country, a gardner celebrated his 25th year tending the courtyards within the Castle of Isabella by planting a small patch of his favourite purple flower in a section of the garden planned exactly for this purpose. He sat on a bench nearby, retrieved a sandwich from a pocket of his gear, and admired his work. From above him, a scream. His eyes followed a figure in fine royal clothing falling. He watched as his flowers were crushed.

In a different part of the castle, Prince Demetrius sat at the head of an ornate dining table with Princess Farah to his right and Prince Cyrus to his left, each with a plate of food in front. Quality craftsmanship was evident through every inch of the table. When he was younger, he would’ve noticed the masterful work. He might’ve commented on it, commending McMasterdonian artisans and their skills. Today, he did not react to much of anything. He was unmoved by the table and it held that he was also undisturbed when the Prince and Princess began a heavy cough. He did not flinch when the Princess coughed blood onto his cheek and he did not assist Prince Cyrus as he reached his hand out for help. They slumped back into their chairs. None reacted to the horrified scream of a castle servant.
 
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The Crown of the Kingdom of Esplandia and Alstenbek
King Sherwin V

Jessica Whitwell,
Chancellor of McMasterdonia

I am not one to speak of the neccesities of your nation, nor to decide the political fate of your leaders, but I dfo know that peace must be reached. Whatever path that is taken beyond this point must be one of reconciliation. So again I humbly offer my nation as a neutral ground for negotiations.

While it is sad to hear that the Queen Mother and her son, the Prince Richard, will not be part of these negotiations we can appreciate the seriousness of the situation. I shall offer my hand to the Archbishop as well, and invite him to Karthied to discuss a solution to this war.

In solidarity,
Sherwin Reginald Edwinsen auf Drakosta
King of Esplandia and Alstenbek


Archbishop of Cape El,

I write to you as a friend and neutral party in this conflict. I offer you a chance to end the bloodshed and travel to Karthied to begin negotiations for peace. I understand that this is likely not what you wish to do as long as the Queen Regent rules. However I can assure you, she nor her grandson will be in attendance, as the government of McMasterdonia has promised me of such.

Please accept this invitation so that this conflict can end. There has been too much bloodshed already. I can promise your safety and will gladly give the hospitality you deserve during your time here. Consider this offer, and let peace return to your home, end the suffering and death that has been inflicted on your people.

Humbly and in Peace,
Sherwin Reginald Edwinsen auf Drakosta
King of Esplandia and Alstenbek

 
My Dearest Aunt Amira,

I hope you are doing well. I've heard reports from my ministers that the fighting is going well and the terrorists are nearly defeated. Thank Rethea.

I confess to you. The history of my Reign over Plembobria will not be a great one. I allowed myself to be forced into approval an unstable system of government that changes yearly. I am now unable to exert the force necessary to hold this nation together. I cannot forget the sight of our palace destroyed as a flew away from my home to help you. These experiences have left me scarred. I feel powerless. Like a prisoner in his own Kingdom.

I don't wish to stand against the inexorable march of progress here. I do not oppose democracy. But I can no longer fulfill my role as head of state. I cannot speak and bring forth unity as my Mother did.

Soon I shall publicly announce my abdication from the throne of Plembobria. Maria shall assume the throne under the guidance of the elected ministers. A new Queen for a new era of our history.

I beg you, do not push this fate on my nephew Richard. As Kings, our lives are and our nations are linked. One and the same. As the nation sickens I am sickened. There is no cure but to remove myself. Unless you can unify the Kingdom of McMasterdonia under Richard's rule, he shall never feel the strength to rule as he must. He will never have a true mandate to rule. You must negotiate with Gunrei and bring this bloodshed to an end. There is no other way forward for Richard and McMasterdonia. I say this with the utmost respect of course.

Give my regards to Father and to King Richard. Maria sends her regards as well.

Timothy III
King of Plembobria
 
Sometimes, Flem could appear uncaring, even cruel. The Patriarchate had nearly won this war - it had defeated all of the many factions fighting for control of McMasterdonia other than the Royal Family. How clear it was, then, what Flem's plan for Gunrei and his cause were. A battle between the ancient church and the ancient throne, almost apocalyptic in its tone.

But rather than a pitched fight on an open field, the Royal Family and its secular allies had chiseled away at all the gains the Patriarchate made over years. Perhaps five centuries ago this war would have gone a different way. Then, men were made and killed by the courage and tenacity of their hearts, and the pious men of the Patriarchate had plenty of both. Now, men were slaughtered by technology that they did not design and did not understand.

How long had it been, Gunrei thought, since Flem had given him a sign or direction? All the prophets and priests of old could count on Him as their companion so long as they were faithful. When did Gunrei become unfaithful to Flem? What had he done to lose his favor?

He felt like a lone pilot flying a passenger jet. His closest confidants fled into the wilderness long ago, hiding from McMasterdonian security forces -- and Gunrei's wrath, which they last saw when Bishop Jacobsen was executed publicly for his insubordination. Gunrei knew an attack on the Royal Family's son would only increase his enemy's fervor and lust for blood.

The sound of McMasterdonian jets and distant artillery was almost constant. The few men who remained loyal to him - including Brother Benedict, bless his soul - looked tired, weary. Gunrei hated to see these boys suffer. As soon as Flem left him, guilt and regret filled the void. What if this whole war was a mistake? What if this was not what Flem wanted to begin with? How many had died in vain?

Esplandia had offered to mediate a peace deal. He knew it would likely mean the destruction of his state, and very likely his death. But, if he could save his men, negotiate amnesty for them, perhaps he could go to Flem with a clean conscience.

When Gunrei appeared before Brother Benedict, dressed in his finest priestly raiments, and asked him to write a letter to the King of Esplandia accepting his offer of mediation, he looked intently at his most loyal supporter. He looked shocked, for a moment, then relieved. Gunrei felt a weight lift off his shoulders that he had been bearing for too many years. Then he returned to his chambers and began packing.
 
When it rains, it pours.

It had been a challenging few years in the Kingdom. Death. Suffering. Princes killing Princes. Sons and daughters of buried beneath rubble, on the streets the children had once played. The Motherland wept for all.

Yet the Kianese remained strong. The people were hard as their leaders intended them to be. Stubborn. Demanding. Strong. Resolute in the face of adversity.

The experience of war would do this to a people. McMasterdonia and the Empire had survived such experiences before, and now was no time tp falter.

Peace proved tantalisingly close, the Mother hoped that it would be reached soon.

The children of the Motherland were not as resolved as a Mother would hope. They had written to her, insisting that the fighting must end, and negotiations ensue. A strong mother will not be bullied by her younglings. Sutherland had come calling. As had the Lancerian Empire, Plembobria, and many others.

Nevertheless, the motherland had to get its house in order – before it could concern itself with the immaturity of its children.

Lanceria, the bravest daughter of Kian had succeeded where others had failed. The rotting branches of the great house had been cast aside into the sea. Few would hear of this loss. Fewer still would weep for it.

It was late into the evening when the first note came. Two elderly members of the Royal Council had passed in their sleep earlier that day. Upon hearing the news, a third member had slipped from an elevated path, the fall killing him. Only the head of house could call for a caucus to fill the vacancies, Amira was not the head of house, and so that matter would have to wait for the coronation of the new King. For now, the Council Chairman Prince Demetrius had been brought to Intelligentsia to advise the young prince. Here he would remain until the new council was appointed. A puppet of a new regime, desperate for its survival.

A few days later, the Queen Mother had received a letter from The Kingdom of Plembobria.

The letter spoke of the intended abdication of King Timothy III of Plembobria, a nephew of Queen Amira and a cousin to Prince Richard. A heated discussion had ensued. Gregor, a former Chancellor of McMasterdonia and the father of King Timothy had laid the blame for the abdication solely at the feet of the House of McMaster. “Your reckless in-fighting has destroyed the motherland and is taking its successor states with it” he had insisted. Perhaps he was right. It was undeniable that the cost of infighting in the motherland had been felt across Kian and the wider world.

A few days after Count Gregor’s abrupt departure from Intelligentsia, the Queen Mother had retired to the sun room on the northern face of the Tiyiddes Palace. This was her happy place. Here she had sat with her husband. It was one of the view places they could sit in uninterrupted silence. That felt like decades ago now.

A clicking sound echoed through the palace.

Click, click. Amira knew what was to come. Click, click. The sound drew closer.

In a sharp white suit and stilettos, it was of course the skeletal Whitwell. Recently appointed as Chancellor she had proven herself to be most useful.

“What is it, Whitwell?” the Queen Mother asked.

“It’s the Archbishop. He has agreed to negotiate in Kartheid. He will be leaving in a matter of days.”

“Good. And your letter?”

“The King of Esplandia has agreed to host my delegation. Gunrei has been informed that you will not be attending. Those closest to him insist that he would not have agreed, had you been personally present.”

“Very good, you have done well. Have the press assemble on the south terrace – I will be out shortly.”

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GUNREI FORCED TO ACCEPT NEGOTIATIONS
Sarah Ferguson, Intelligentsia.


The Queen Mother announced late on Saturday evening that she and a delegation of official would soon travel to the Kingdom of Esplandia. The purpose of the visit is to discuss a cessation of hostilities perpetrated by the Archbishop’s forces and the full return to McMasterdonian rule.

The Queen Mother spoke of both her daughter and son’s efforts to avoid war with the Archbishop, who she described as “depraved” and “hostile”.

“He would not negotiate in good faith; indeed, he refused to negotiate at all.” The Queen Mother said. “He kept saying no to every offer, never putting an alternative compromise forward.”

The Queen Mother outlined that prior to the outbreak of war, Queen Matilda II had attempted to broker an agreement between the warring factions. This agreement included increased representation for the clergy and a return to the supremacy of the Archdiocese of Cape El, over Intelligentisa. A subject of some consternation for successive Archbishops of Cape El since 1785, when the capital of Flemingovianism was formally moved by Queen Isabella I.

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The Royal Palace expressed confidence that this time, the negotiations would not fail.


“What we see today is self-evident” The Queen Mother said “The Kingdom is too strong to be defeated. Gunrei must formally recognise this. He has no choice now but to negotiate. He cannot take anything off the table.”

“Today, as a people, we face grave challenges, from climate change, to food security, and rising poverty. It is impossible to address these challenges while the Archbishop continues to threaten our shared future with terrorist attacks, retribution, and religious xenophobia”.

Support for the announcement was strong from the Senate and from other members of the Royal Family. Prince Demetrius, the Chairman of the Royal Council announced that he was delighted that Gunrei had finally been forced to the negotiating table. “It is a testament to the hard work of the Queen Mother at steadying the ship in recent months”.

Internationally, the peace conference is expected to play out well. International partners have grown tired of the war and the difficulties it has imposed upon trade. Terrorist attacks carried out by the Archbishop’s loyalists have also resulted in countless deaths of tourists and other minority groups. The Queen Mother has reportedly made calls to various national leaders to advise them of the conference.


The Queen Mother and her delegation will depart for the conference in a matter of days.

More to come.

 
"Ma--Your Majesty!" Nathalie fumbled for only a moment, as the occupants of the King's chambers looked over at the heavy doors that were suddenly flung open. It was clear to Maxie by how she had almost called him by his first name - an action that he didn't much mind from her, but propriety called for more respectful and honorific titles in the face of outside company - that his aide was clearly not expecting anyone to be present in his chambers with him.

"Uhm..." his tailor said, holding up two variants of a dress shoe - one adorned with brogue and the other not - as Nathalie looked urgently back and forth between the two men, "Shall I... shall we take a break, Your Majesty?"

"I think that would be a fine idea, Jacques," Maxie said, stepping down from the small raised dais that belonged to the tailor, "Thank you very much. Reconvene in fifteen minutes?"

"As you wish, sir," Jacques smiled as he edged out of the room past a very flustered Nathlie who was still standing in the doorway.

As soon as the man was beyond the frame of the door and no longer at risk of being hit on the bum on the way out, the woman hurriedly slammed the mahogany doors shut without any prompt from Maxie. The King raised a curious eyebrow, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. "What's gotten under your skin, Nathalie?" He asked, "You're never this... flustered."

"Max, the Archbishop has agreed to meet with the Queen Mother to discuss a cessation of hostilities," she declared, slightly out of breath due to having ran as fast as her high heels would carry her.

Maxie was silent for a few moments as his brain processed the information that Nathalie had just given him. "Of... McMasterdonia?" he asked, somewhat dumbly - there was only one Queen Mother worth talking about, of course. Nathalie only nodded, her expression serious. Both of the man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Never would he had ever thought that McMasterdonia would resolved its internal conflicts - at least, not while he was sitting upon Valencia's throne. His mind began to whir into action, thinking as far out as the long-term consequences geopolitically on the continent of Kian.

"Draft up a response to feed to the journalists," the man began slowly, scratching at his beard in thought, "Something along the lines of how I look forward to seeing the peaceful resolution of this long, embroiled conflict and how Valencia eagerly awaits the economic and social relations with a thriving and strong McMasterdonia once again. Give me a day to write a communiqué to the KU about the possibility of including McMasterdonia in the KU."

Maxie didn't need to explain how or why the addition of McMasterdonia to the Kian Union would be jarring to most of its members. It was a large nation that spanned a very important shipping strait that fed goods to the majority of Kian. A quick and decisive move had to be made to make sure that relations with McMasterdonia were both friendly and... if he were honest, a bit foreboding for the nation. With a peaceful and united McM, it meant more tariffs through the straits, and they needed that in the KU in order to be favorable for its members. Valencia included. He gave Nathalie a look that said 'did you get all that?', to which she merely nodded her head.

"Excellent," he smiled, "Thank you very much Nathalie."

She beamed back at him as she hurried out the door, "It's my pleasure, sir."
 
It had taken weeks to get everything in order for the coming talks. Sherwin had designated Halkonblyuth, the Royal Palace in Karthied, as the place for the talks to take place. It wouldn’t be much of an inconvenience, as the palace was rarely used by his family and now generally served as housing for visiting dignitaries or a place to hold a gala or festival. He hoped that this would be the place that the McMasterdonian bloodshed would come to an end.

From the main hall he could see across the Katharin Gardens to the shining dome of Blaegfyurd Palace, the seat of Esplandian government, and the black tower of the Dragostaspaer beyond. Much of the roadways around the palace had been blocked off, with security details constantly on patrol, but for now, the sight of the gardens was peaceful.

Sherwin had hope that the talks would be as well, but he was a pragmatist. Nothing ever went smoothly. And Amira wasn’t known for her tactfulness.

He had misgivings about the Queen Mother’s attendance. First she’d refused and now she had changed her mind. She was obviously playing at her own game. There needed to be an end to the war but he wasn’t going to allow the conflict to be exported onto his shores. Now he just hoped the Archbishop wasn’t going to cancel because of it.

Whatever happened though, he had no doubt his security forces would be able to handle it. And Aela willing there would be an end to the war. But if everything went south and nothing was decided here, the world would know that the Esplandian King had done his due diligence.
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Halkonblyuth Palace, Karthied
 
The Queen Mother had never been more popular. The streets of Intelligentsia had been lined with celebrations for several days. The people were drunk on the prospects of peace. The Archbishop defeated. In territory and in the hearts and minds of McMasterdonians, he had lost. He would lose much more before it was over.

The charade had been a necessary evil. Amira was confident she could make it up to Sherwin one day. There was little chance that Gunrei would have agreed to negotiate with his chief adversary, had the international attention and media left him with any option to back away.

Despite this confidence, Amira was nervous. It was her first time out of McMasterdonia since she assumed her role as Queen-Regent. The last time a monarch had left McMasterdonia, they had been assassinated. For this reason, Richard was safely concealed in the Castle of Isabella and surrounded by the most loyal of guards. It wouldn’t be long and he would assume the mantle as King of the McMasterdonians. It was Amira’s duty to ensure that the bloodiness of what was to come, would not poison his reign as it had done her daughters.

The Esplandians had put on quite a show for the negotiation. The Royal Palace of Kartheid. It was almost poetic given Esplandia’s own history within the Kianese Empire. A very suitable venue to force concessions from a dying zealot.

After a brief audience with the King, Amira and the McMasterdonian delegation made its way into the negotiating hall. As key allies of the McMasterdonians during the war, delegates of the Kingdom of Plembobria and The Lancerian Empire were also there. An assortment of delegates from the Kian Union were participating as observers. Naturally, the Esplandians were the hosts and mediators. And of course, there was Gunrei, and the dishevelled remains of his entourage. The Queen Mother couldn’t help but smile at their evident lack of morale.

“Ladies and Gentleman, today we are here to negotiate a peaceful end to the McMasterdonian conflict” the mediator began “I ask that you leave the most serious of your disagreements to the end, and your egos outside this chamber.”

“We are well aware what we are here for. It is not a matter of ego. That man!” Amira said as she furiously pointed at Gunrei “Murdered my children and scarred the land in his quest for power. I can accept nothing less than his unconditional surrender”

“Your Majesty” Gunrei said as he flourishingly bowed “The only person who has scarred the land is you and your heretical family. The way to end this war is through regime change. Only that will satisfy Flemingovia.”

With the posturing out of the way, the Queen Mother returned to her seat and allowed the negotiations to continue. The settlement at this meeting would have no impact on the future and the Queen Mother had no intention of tiring herself in a pissing contest.

The negotiations would take several days. On day four, a promising agreement was reached.
  1. An immediate ceasefire of all hostilities for an indefinite period;

  2. The supremacy of the Archbishopric of Cape El over the Archbishopric of Intelligentsia on all matters spiritual;

  3. The Archbishopric would accept the supremacy of McMasterdonian secular law on all matters except criminal law and family law;

  4. The Archbishopric would receive special status and be on par with other McMasterdonian states and receive Senate and Council of State representation;

  5. The Archbishop would swear fealty to the new King Richard of the McMasterdonians and accept and confirm his supremacy on temporal matters;

  6. The Kingdom of McMasterdonia would withdraw all but 45,000 troops from the northern border with the Archbishopric. In return, the Archbishopric would disband their own militia within 12 months;

  7. International monitoring by the Kian Union if and when required, to ensure a peaceful end to the conflict;

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ROYAL PALACE, INTELLIGENTSIA

HER ROYAL MAJESTY, the Queen Mother has reached a negotiated settlement with the Archbishop Gunrei of Cape El.

This negotiated settlement will see an end to the conflict on McMasterdonian soil and a restoration of the unity and sovereignty of the Kingdom.

The Queen Mother pays tribute to King Sherwin of Esplandia for his role in hosting these negotiations. In addition, The Queen Mother thanks Queen-Empress Amelia of the Lancerian Empire, King Tony of the Kingdom of Plembobria, and the Kian Union for their steadfast support throughout the conflict.

For media enquiries contact: secretary@royalpalace.gov.mcm
 
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NOTE: I will figure out the timeline for this at some point.

Not long after the Queen Mother had departed Esplandia, it was time too for the ailing Gunrei to depart from Esplandia.

He had been permitted to momentarily stay behind to make the most of the finest medical care he was likely to receive in some time, hopefully prolonging his life enough to preserve the fragile peace he had been forced so demeaningly to sign. He had no intention of holding to the peace. Nevertheless, the reception at home was likely to be a cold one.

As his car rounded into the airport where his plane was waiting, he hoped that the rapport he had established after more than 60 years of proselytising would be enough to convince even his most zealous of supporters that peace was the right call for the time. He had insisted to his entourage that it was never his intention to uphold this peace - but they needed time to regroup. This would be enough for his people to attend to their wounded and to solicit allies abroad - potentially in other religious states such as Sutherland. Then they would strike the royal family directly. The Prince would be silenced. Without hesitation. Without emotion. The Royal Family would be at its end, and the Kingdom would cease to exist.

The car came to a halt at his plane and he could see brother Benedict waiting for him. His god daughter, Beatrice, anointed in the light of Flemingovia, had worked for him for many years as his pilot. Here she was like always, attending to his plane, keep it clean and well maintained. She appeared to be lightly polishing the tailshaft of the aircraft.

"Sister Beatrice, working diligently as always" Gunrei said.

"Yes, your grace. Everything is in good working order."

After taking their seats, a silence permeated throughout the aircraft. There was no point to discuss it any longer. There would be weeks of debating the peace when they arrived. For now, they would rest.

Gunrei awoke suddenly to the shaking of the plane. Slowly the others began to stir awake too. The shaking became more violent.

"What is going on Sister" Gunrei called to Beatrice.

"Severe turbulence." she called back "Remain seated and ensure your seatbelts are fastened".

Gunrei got to his feet and attempted to walk to the cabin. The plane shook more violently, knocking him to his feet. Brother Benedict attempted to get up to assist him, but too fell to the ground.

The cabin went dark. "Flemingovia save us" Gunrei uttered.

"I have failed you."




Cape El, The Archbishopric

News of the plane crash into the mountain side had not taken long to reach the Archbishopric. There was nonetheless, no time to prepare. Over a hundred thousand soldiers of the Armed Forces were already within the province and moving quickly towards the capital. The raw of the vehicles echoed over the mountainous terrain.

Soon, the sounds of the coming jets could be heard too. Then the bombardments from the sea.

In the past, the Archbishopric could withstand a siege for several years. But when it did fall, the devastation was terrifying and would last months. The pillaging, the burning, and the executions. The subjects would suffer for as long as possible before a victory was declared.

The Archbishopric had managed to wage a war lasting barely a couple of years. It had destroyed them. For every royal they killed, the royalists had killed thousands of Flemingovianist warriors. For every roadside bomb detonated, McMasterdonia and it's allies destroyed schools, hospitals and temples. Women, children, the elderly had all fallen to the sword of secularism. Gunrei had insisted that every loss was a gain in the eyes of Flemingovia. It was an honour to be martyred in the fight against tyranny.

It was not to be. For they had defeated the rejoiced Matilda II by assassinating her abroad and pitting ally against ally. The Patriarchate had destroyed the arrogant Albert and his dilettante wife. The populist fool Rosemary Whent too was put to death for her treachery and pursuit of sin.

It was an old woman that had done them in, in the end. She had done things Gunrei was not capable of imagining. Some of the most noble of families, some more storied than her own, had been taken like pigs to the slaughter on her orders. Lines that had survived a millennia of war, disease, famine and worse, ended in a matter of minutes at her utterance.

A Grandmother in fear of losing her prized grandson, her dynasty, and her legacy.

She would stop at nothing.

Who would pull entire cities upon themselves, burying their subjects deep beneath the rubble.

The Archbishopric had experienced a failure of imagination. The quiet and demure Grandmother who had sat beside her husband as he ruled, was really not so quiet or demure after all.

She was a monster.

The devastation she would inflict upon the Archbishopric today was unending. A sacrifice on the part of the Archbishop's people so severe that not even martyrdom could justify it. There would be no time for the mother to shield her child, no opportunity for the Priest to read the last rites to his congregation.

She was a disease.

Yet the people embraced her. Shielded her. Legitimised her.

She became unstoppable.

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Breaking: Plane carrying Archbishop Gunrei has crashed into the Caspius Alps

In breaking news, we are receiving reports that the private jet carrying the Archbishop Gunrei has crashed into the Caspius Alps, just north of the City of Caspius. The Archbishop and his entourage had departed the Kingdom of Esplandia following a negotiation with the Kingdom of McMasterdonia in which a peace agreement was signed.

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A photo of the wreckage submitted by McMasterdonian authorities

There have been no survivors.

In response to the attack, the Queen Mother has ordered the Royal McMasterdonian Armed Forces to deploy to the Northern province of the Archbishopric of Cape El.

"With the death of the Archbishop Gunrei, it is clear that without a strong and immediate intervention in the Archbishopric of Cape El, that anarchy and only anarchy will prevail. We must intervene in order to fully restore order and to ensure that our carefully negotiated peace prevails" The Ministry of Defence said in a statement.

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It is believed that more than two hundred thousand ground troops have been ordered into the Archbishopric to restore order. The ground troops will be supported by a large detachment of the royal navy and airforce.

The Ministry of Defence is confident that full order will be restored in a number of days.
 
In the dark just before dawn, two weary figures sat in a large office. Silence hung in the air between them. One had recently joined the other and neither had yet spoken.

"Coincidence?"

Queen-Empress Amelia did not raise her gaze to humor this vain hope, nor did she reply. Another few minutes of silence hung as both considered the consequences.

Prime Minister Isaac Oudinot began to speak, but Amelia interrupted him.

"I'm thinking we issue a statement sending our condolences for the death of the Archbishop so soon after peace was reached, in this small way we will state our disapproval, but McMasterdonia is among our closest allies and I wish it to remain so for centuries. We're too close to lasting peace to sabotage that relationship now, it is time to hold my tongue rather than go any further than that. Give the orders to Lancerian troops that they are to hold their positions and allow McMasterdonian troops to quell the Archbishopric. I don't want them participating in that, but from a practical perspective it will be much more fruitful if McMasterdonians are the ones liberating this sensitive part of McMasterdonia, not Lancerians. Provide that reasoning to McMasterdonian high command. Keep your ear to the ground for updates on that progress and if there are any more threats that could arise from this incident. I suspect we've seen the last of the serious contenders eliminated but I won't be caught off-guard in case the Archbishop had some sort of contingency plan."

Oudinot rose from his seat, "That sounds like the best route we can take. I think we're in the final stages of this, Amelia, it will be good to put it behind us."

Amelia smiled gravely. Oudinot stood for a moment, then left the room.
 
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