[Political situation in Kul Goran] Si vis pacem, para bellum
Apr 15, 2023 15:54:24 GMT
Riah, Velania Kalugina, and 2 more like this
Post by Jaezred Vandree on Apr 15, 2023 15:54:24 GMT
(Following directly after the events of The Election. See also: The Funeral, The Radicals, and The Election - Prelude.)
When Keros walks into the Three-Headed Dragon with a weary look and a new shield, he is greeted by a well-dressed tabaxi, who bows slightly to him. “Mr. Keros Pactsworn. Here to see the Lord Jaezred, yes? He has booked a private room for you in an establishment in Port Ffirst. Please, take my hand.”
“What the… Sure, okay.” He gestures to Crow and Frigus behind him to follow.
As Keros lays a beefy hand on the tabaxi’s paw, the tabaxi incants a few words in Sylvan, and the world around them appears to spin rapidly into a blur for a brief moment.
The three adventurers find themselves standing in a room with cream walls and a carpeted floor, lit by brightly-glowing crystals sitting in small niches. Windows with dark-tinted glass display the familiar sight of New Town at dusk outside. Before them is a long, oak table already bedecked with steaming cups of tea and freshly-baked treats. Lord Jaezred Vandree stands at the head of the table, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he studies what appears to be a large map, with Rae sitting nearby.
“Ah, welcome, Keros. Brought more friends, I see,” Jaezred says.
“You really should warn people before you teleport them to tea houses.”
“But where would be the fun in that?”
Keros rolls his eyes as he takes off his helmet and quickly gives his hair a ruffle. He gives a friendly nod to Rae. The earth genasi’s face lights up a little and returns the nod in kind. “Very glad to see you, friend,” they say.
“Well, we have certainly had some ‘fun’ ourselves,” Keros says drily. “The Purists won the election, as I’m sure you know, but there was extreme corruption on both sides. Who knows what the actual result should have been. We did our best to resolve it. Well, some of us did. In any case… the Purists winning is good for now, I think. With everything going on, the last thing we want is for K’ul Goran to isolate itself.” He looks specifically to Rae. “I don’t know how fast news travels here… Did you hear about Antonia?”
“I did tell you that was going to happen…” Jaezred mutters. He has indeed heard the dire news and told Rae of it — the conservative Senator Kyra Stuurm had sworn to fight the election results in front of millions of K’ul Goranis, and Antonia Warborn appeared in the broadcast after her, wearing a silver bird pin and pledging her support to the Red cause.
“Yes, you did. Now tell me how we are to fix it!” Keros demands.
“Sit down, have some tea and snacks, rest your bones first. I will offer you my thoughts.”
Rae’s face turns more stoic as they consider the situation. “Jaezred told me everything. We have to make a move against her, and soon. But it has to be a decisive and effective one. Is it even an option to bring her in anymore? She has put herself right in the limelight, and if we are able to successfully apprehend her, that may simply spur more on to supporting her cause. She could become a martyr, even.” They frown deeply at the complexity of the situation.
“We arrested her mother in Nrav’Garat. Made her look good in front of the crowd,” Crow mumbles quietly, slipping into a chair at the far end of the table.
“So I have heard,” says the drow lord. “And now Nrav’Garat is painted Red.”
Frigus, who has been staring in wonder at the fanciness of this place and trying to stop Waffles from napping on top of whatever looks valuable, speaks up. “Unfortunately, we aren’t the most good talkers around.” He pauses to sniffle a bit. “But maybe with her off the streets, it’s less bad long-term than leaving her to make speeches?”
“That is right,” Keros says, taking a sip from a comically undersized cup of tea. “We need to think long-term. She won’t be making any more speeches. I know it’s not that simple — Nine Hells, we’ve tried it — but Antonia is a criminal and putting her behind bars would help.”
“Then our next attempt to put her behind bars needs to be the last one,” Rae says. “We can’t risk making another attempt that goes sideways and makes us look the fools. We need a planned, careful, coordinated strike. We need to know where she’s going to be and how we shift the odds as much in our favour as possible so that she doesn’t escape.” They heft their spellbook onto the table, flicking through various options and carefully considering what can be done, before pausing to look at the other adventurers. “Was Palaos with you when you were present for the election?”
“Not Palaos, no.” Keros grins. “We spent the day with Kassandra Farcleaver of the Errant Guard.”
Rae’s face lights up again. “The Errant Guard! Oh, brilliant! How did that go?”
“She teleported us between cities, but had her own mission so we had less time to talk than I would have liked. She pulled us out of a situation in Za’Suul that might have gotten dangerous. Magistrate Cleaver was tampering with votes in favour of the Purists and we… made a stink.” He looks disapprovingly at Frigus.
“Ah, did you make a good impression with Kassandra?” Jaezred asks.
“I think so. Apparently we made a good impression with General Razorback as well, as he took the time to dig this out from the Errant Guard weapons vault.”
Keros places his new shield on the table. It’s a noticeably broader and heavier bronze aspis than his 6th Legion one, with decorative inlay across the face, and it bears an inscription written in Abyssal. Rae looks over the shield in awe, studying the inlay and inscription despite not being able to read it.
“It’s beautiful, and this is very good… Getting in with the Errant Guard is hopeful for our next steps. You think they would be willing to aid us?”
“Hopefully? It’s a good sign.”
Jaezred raises an intrigued brow when his discerning gaze lands on the Abyssal inscription. “Well, that…is a beautiful shield,” he says simply. “But let us now address the matter at hand.”
He clears his throat, and begins. “I shall remind you of two things. Firstly, my aim here is to observe, not to interfere; that said, I am nevertheless happy to give advice to Keros and all whom he calls friends about how he can help his country. Secondly, there is no single, magical solution that can neatly solve the volatile situation in K’ul Goran right now — this election has cut deep into the nation’s soul and it will take years for it to heal, if ever. Yes, not even arresting Antonia can stop this, I’m afraid. The Behooved movement has grown to be larger than her.
“The Optimates will call for recounts, contest the result in the courts, et cetera. None of that actually matters, because their supporters will never believe anything the courts say that is in favour of the Purists. They will say Marius has bribed the judges, or whatever — the goalposts will keep moving. Truth itself will become controversial. Battle lines will be drawn between friends, neighbours, families… Yet still, the courts are unlikely to overturn the Purists’ victory, which will frustrate the most fervent Reds. Antonia has already given them weapons, now they can use them to enact change. Expect Purist politicians, clerks, and judges to be threatened, even kidnapped or killed. But that’s not even the real danger…”
He pushes the map he was studying to the centre of the table. All of them lean in to look down at a topographical map of Joran, upon which someone has drawn blue dots, mostly concentrated in and around the large settlements, and red dots, scattered across the vast countryside and gathering most in the city of Jarvenhol. It’s similar to the political map of K’ul Goran that Ambassador Vellus showed them earlier today at the embassy, but far more detailed.
“My underlings have been hard at work making this. As you can see, the Purists have numbers over the Optimates. You may have seen other maps that show vast swathes of land in Red, but land doesn’t vote. What land has…is money. The gentlemen farmers of K’ul Goran, the wealthy landowners and their agrimages, are almost unanimously Optimates. Obviously, they are no fans of the Purists’ proposed policy to redistribute their lands, so they’ve been funnelling money into Red campaigns. If they are emboldened enough, they may even decide to cut off food supplies to the cities, leaving many in danger of starving.”
“Obviously, the threat of another civil war is… a problem, and the one we need to focus on,” says Keros, “but the Purists did cheat. We saw it. The Optimates cheated as well, but the election was compromised, the result meaningless. The Behooved are bad people and I voted for the Purists, but does the fact that they’re right about this not count for anything?” He tenses and looks pent-up. “Also, how am I supposed to express how I feel about this without breaking your delicate tea sets and little tables?”
“So you have one side that is full of liars and cheats, and the other side is full of liars and cheats who are also bigoted and violent.” Jaezred sighs. “I’ve not told you this before, but in truth, friend Keros, our views are aligned. I am a man who values traditions and ancient practices; however, above all, I am a cynic. I hate to break it to you, but election tampering is nothing new. It has likely been done in every election in the history of your country, only now, you have seen it with your own eyes.”
“These conversations make me yearn for the days when I was but a soldier and had not yet seen behind the curtain. Things were simpler then.” The minotaur sighs. “The spear points in only one direction and time marches forward with us.”
“And yet, if you are still a soldier now, still naive to the deception of politics, you would have fallen for Optimates propaganda, would you not?” Jaezred points out. “Simple. Familiar. Comfortable. Those are the feelings the conservatives like to evoke. The truth is a thorny thing, but it also sets you free.”
He sits down in a cushioned chair and sips a cup of tea pensively. The faraway look on his face tells Keros that he has learned this lesson the hard way. Keros looks around at the new friends he’s made since being forced to leave the Legion for a few seconds, and seems to relax.
“Enough philosophy then, I guess. What can be done?”
“Before you can arrest Antonia, you have to delegitimise her movement. Turn the Optimates against each other. Cut them off from the money somehow. Arrest Red soldiers conspiring to rise up against their fellows. Expose the Behooved’s worldviews as the simplistic, racist nonsense it truly is. A house divided cannot stand.”
“I’m not sure… but you have my bow if you need help…” Frigus says. “Or if we are going nonviolent, my trench coat salesman routine — I feel like I really nailed that.”
“Well, trench coats can be a fine fashion piece but I doubt that would help much in K’ul Goran. Any other ideas?” Jaezred glances around the room. Frigus visibly fights the urge to slide a Waffles For President poster across the table.
“Alright, I’ll give you one on the house. You said Kassandra Farcleaver and Cassius Razorback like you, yes? Use their names and influence to speak with Admiral Lyra Ironhide. Tell her you’re the ones who found the Navy crates and the stolen Tempest ballista in the Behooved warehouse, and that you’d like to help investigate further. It’s likely the smuggling originated here in Port Alaca, from the local Navy outpost, before being shipped on the River Mara.” The drow taps a finger on the coastal town on the map, then drags it along the river that flows in from the sea, towards Maray and eventually Jarvenhol. “Admiral Ironhide was once framed by Antonius Warborn. Though she has never publicly taken a side in the Red versus Blue debate, I’d bet good money that she is not keen on Antonia.”
“If your bet is wrong, then there is a chance that the Admiral knows something about the smuggling already. In either case, they are a good choice to talk to,” Keros says.
“I think this is the right path to take for now,” Rae agrees. “Thank you for so much aid, Jaezred.”
He nods. “You are welcome. And remember, you’re not just fighting against Antonia. You’re fighting a movement. An idea.”
Rae returns the nod solemnly, taking in the weight of the task ahead. Keros silently puts a hand on their shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything — Rae knows he’s got their back.
Crow rises from his seat and walks towards Jaezred at the other end of the table. “Milord. You don’t know me but I know you. I owe you thanks, not just for the tea, for the time you saved my village too.”
Jaezred gives the half-elf a puzzled glance. “Saved your village? Are you sure it was me, son, and not some other drow?”
“You helped get rid of the devils that took over the manor house. In Bloody Creek.”
“You’re from Bloody Creek? That’s impossible. The only survivors of the massacre were…” Jaezred stops, a look of realisation dawning on his face. “Ah. I see.”
Crow awkwardly looks down at his feet. He bows to Jaezred, gives everyone else a respectful nod, before shambling out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The crows perching on the windowsill outside each caw once and fly away. The windows are of darkened glass — they shouldn’t have been able to see inside.
Frigus excuses himself next after he has finished his tea and cakes, dragging a sleepy Waffles behind him. Rae tucks their spellbook away, and Keros takes this as a cue to collect his helmet and shield.
Before they leave, Jaezred turns to Keros once more. “If you need somewhere to release your frustrations, there’s a fighting pit here in the wharf, and in the Macadam Warehouse in Daring Heights.” Whilst he says that, a finger subtly goes up to point at the minotaur, and the message cantrip delivers a whisper to Keros that only he can hear.
And do me a favour and take Rae somewhere nice, eh? Just the two of you?
The massive, battle-hardened warrior is suddenly paralysed with wide-eyed fear. Jaezred flashes a cheeky grin at him, satisfied that his theory is proven right.
When Keros walks into the Three-Headed Dragon with a weary look and a new shield, he is greeted by a well-dressed tabaxi, who bows slightly to him. “Mr. Keros Pactsworn. Here to see the Lord Jaezred, yes? He has booked a private room for you in an establishment in Port Ffirst. Please, take my hand.”
“What the… Sure, okay.” He gestures to Crow and Frigus behind him to follow.
As Keros lays a beefy hand on the tabaxi’s paw, the tabaxi incants a few words in Sylvan, and the world around them appears to spin rapidly into a blur for a brief moment.
The three adventurers find themselves standing in a room with cream walls and a carpeted floor, lit by brightly-glowing crystals sitting in small niches. Windows with dark-tinted glass display the familiar sight of New Town at dusk outside. Before them is a long, oak table already bedecked with steaming cups of tea and freshly-baked treats. Lord Jaezred Vandree stands at the head of the table, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he studies what appears to be a large map, with Rae sitting nearby.
“Ah, welcome, Keros. Brought more friends, I see,” Jaezred says.
“You really should warn people before you teleport them to tea houses.”
“But where would be the fun in that?”
Keros rolls his eyes as he takes off his helmet and quickly gives his hair a ruffle. He gives a friendly nod to Rae. The earth genasi’s face lights up a little and returns the nod in kind. “Very glad to see you, friend,” they say.
“Well, we have certainly had some ‘fun’ ourselves,” Keros says drily. “The Purists won the election, as I’m sure you know, but there was extreme corruption on both sides. Who knows what the actual result should have been. We did our best to resolve it. Well, some of us did. In any case… the Purists winning is good for now, I think. With everything going on, the last thing we want is for K’ul Goran to isolate itself.” He looks specifically to Rae. “I don’t know how fast news travels here… Did you hear about Antonia?”
“I did tell you that was going to happen…” Jaezred mutters. He has indeed heard the dire news and told Rae of it — the conservative Senator Kyra Stuurm had sworn to fight the election results in front of millions of K’ul Goranis, and Antonia Warborn appeared in the broadcast after her, wearing a silver bird pin and pledging her support to the Red cause.
“Yes, you did. Now tell me how we are to fix it!” Keros demands.
“Sit down, have some tea and snacks, rest your bones first. I will offer you my thoughts.”
Rae’s face turns more stoic as they consider the situation. “Jaezred told me everything. We have to make a move against her, and soon. But it has to be a decisive and effective one. Is it even an option to bring her in anymore? She has put herself right in the limelight, and if we are able to successfully apprehend her, that may simply spur more on to supporting her cause. She could become a martyr, even.” They frown deeply at the complexity of the situation.
“We arrested her mother in Nrav’Garat. Made her look good in front of the crowd,” Crow mumbles quietly, slipping into a chair at the far end of the table.
“So I have heard,” says the drow lord. “And now Nrav’Garat is painted Red.”
Frigus, who has been staring in wonder at the fanciness of this place and trying to stop Waffles from napping on top of whatever looks valuable, speaks up. “Unfortunately, we aren’t the most good talkers around.” He pauses to sniffle a bit. “But maybe with her off the streets, it’s less bad long-term than leaving her to make speeches?”
“That is right,” Keros says, taking a sip from a comically undersized cup of tea. “We need to think long-term. She won’t be making any more speeches. I know it’s not that simple — Nine Hells, we’ve tried it — but Antonia is a criminal and putting her behind bars would help.”
“Then our next attempt to put her behind bars needs to be the last one,” Rae says. “We can’t risk making another attempt that goes sideways and makes us look the fools. We need a planned, careful, coordinated strike. We need to know where she’s going to be and how we shift the odds as much in our favour as possible so that she doesn’t escape.” They heft their spellbook onto the table, flicking through various options and carefully considering what can be done, before pausing to look at the other adventurers. “Was Palaos with you when you were present for the election?”
“Not Palaos, no.” Keros grins. “We spent the day with Kassandra Farcleaver of the Errant Guard.”
Rae’s face lights up again. “The Errant Guard! Oh, brilliant! How did that go?”
“She teleported us between cities, but had her own mission so we had less time to talk than I would have liked. She pulled us out of a situation in Za’Suul that might have gotten dangerous. Magistrate Cleaver was tampering with votes in favour of the Purists and we… made a stink.” He looks disapprovingly at Frigus.
“Ah, did you make a good impression with Kassandra?” Jaezred asks.
“I think so. Apparently we made a good impression with General Razorback as well, as he took the time to dig this out from the Errant Guard weapons vault.”
Keros places his new shield on the table. It’s a noticeably broader and heavier bronze aspis than his 6th Legion one, with decorative inlay across the face, and it bears an inscription written in Abyssal. Rae looks over the shield in awe, studying the inlay and inscription despite not being able to read it.
“It’s beautiful, and this is very good… Getting in with the Errant Guard is hopeful for our next steps. You think they would be willing to aid us?”
“Hopefully? It’s a good sign.”
Jaezred raises an intrigued brow when his discerning gaze lands on the Abyssal inscription. “Well, that…is a beautiful shield,” he says simply. “But let us now address the matter at hand.”
He clears his throat, and begins. “I shall remind you of two things. Firstly, my aim here is to observe, not to interfere; that said, I am nevertheless happy to give advice to Keros and all whom he calls friends about how he can help his country. Secondly, there is no single, magical solution that can neatly solve the volatile situation in K’ul Goran right now — this election has cut deep into the nation’s soul and it will take years for it to heal, if ever. Yes, not even arresting Antonia can stop this, I’m afraid. The Behooved movement has grown to be larger than her.
“The Optimates will call for recounts, contest the result in the courts, et cetera. None of that actually matters, because their supporters will never believe anything the courts say that is in favour of the Purists. They will say Marius has bribed the judges, or whatever — the goalposts will keep moving. Truth itself will become controversial. Battle lines will be drawn between friends, neighbours, families… Yet still, the courts are unlikely to overturn the Purists’ victory, which will frustrate the most fervent Reds. Antonia has already given them weapons, now they can use them to enact change. Expect Purist politicians, clerks, and judges to be threatened, even kidnapped or killed. But that’s not even the real danger…”
He pushes the map he was studying to the centre of the table. All of them lean in to look down at a topographical map of Joran, upon which someone has drawn blue dots, mostly concentrated in and around the large settlements, and red dots, scattered across the vast countryside and gathering most in the city of Jarvenhol. It’s similar to the political map of K’ul Goran that Ambassador Vellus showed them earlier today at the embassy, but far more detailed.
“My underlings have been hard at work making this. As you can see, the Purists have numbers over the Optimates. You may have seen other maps that show vast swathes of land in Red, but land doesn’t vote. What land has…is money. The gentlemen farmers of K’ul Goran, the wealthy landowners and their agrimages, are almost unanimously Optimates. Obviously, they are no fans of the Purists’ proposed policy to redistribute their lands, so they’ve been funnelling money into Red campaigns. If they are emboldened enough, they may even decide to cut off food supplies to the cities, leaving many in danger of starving.”
“Obviously, the threat of another civil war is… a problem, and the one we need to focus on,” says Keros, “but the Purists did cheat. We saw it. The Optimates cheated as well, but the election was compromised, the result meaningless. The Behooved are bad people and I voted for the Purists, but does the fact that they’re right about this not count for anything?” He tenses and looks pent-up. “Also, how am I supposed to express how I feel about this without breaking your delicate tea sets and little tables?”
“So you have one side that is full of liars and cheats, and the other side is full of liars and cheats who are also bigoted and violent.” Jaezred sighs. “I’ve not told you this before, but in truth, friend Keros, our views are aligned. I am a man who values traditions and ancient practices; however, above all, I am a cynic. I hate to break it to you, but election tampering is nothing new. It has likely been done in every election in the history of your country, only now, you have seen it with your own eyes.”
“These conversations make me yearn for the days when I was but a soldier and had not yet seen behind the curtain. Things were simpler then.” The minotaur sighs. “The spear points in only one direction and time marches forward with us.”
“And yet, if you are still a soldier now, still naive to the deception of politics, you would have fallen for Optimates propaganda, would you not?” Jaezred points out. “Simple. Familiar. Comfortable. Those are the feelings the conservatives like to evoke. The truth is a thorny thing, but it also sets you free.”
He sits down in a cushioned chair and sips a cup of tea pensively. The faraway look on his face tells Keros that he has learned this lesson the hard way. Keros looks around at the new friends he’s made since being forced to leave the Legion for a few seconds, and seems to relax.
“Enough philosophy then, I guess. What can be done?”
“Before you can arrest Antonia, you have to delegitimise her movement. Turn the Optimates against each other. Cut them off from the money somehow. Arrest Red soldiers conspiring to rise up against their fellows. Expose the Behooved’s worldviews as the simplistic, racist nonsense it truly is. A house divided cannot stand.”
“I’m not sure… but you have my bow if you need help…” Frigus says. “Or if we are going nonviolent, my trench coat salesman routine — I feel like I really nailed that.”
“Well, trench coats can be a fine fashion piece but I doubt that would help much in K’ul Goran. Any other ideas?” Jaezred glances around the room. Frigus visibly fights the urge to slide a Waffles For President poster across the table.
“Alright, I’ll give you one on the house. You said Kassandra Farcleaver and Cassius Razorback like you, yes? Use their names and influence to speak with Admiral Lyra Ironhide. Tell her you’re the ones who found the Navy crates and the stolen Tempest ballista in the Behooved warehouse, and that you’d like to help investigate further. It’s likely the smuggling originated here in Port Alaca, from the local Navy outpost, before being shipped on the River Mara.” The drow taps a finger on the coastal town on the map, then drags it along the river that flows in from the sea, towards Maray and eventually Jarvenhol. “Admiral Ironhide was once framed by Antonius Warborn. Though she has never publicly taken a side in the Red versus Blue debate, I’d bet good money that she is not keen on Antonia.”
“If your bet is wrong, then there is a chance that the Admiral knows something about the smuggling already. In either case, they are a good choice to talk to,” Keros says.
“I think this is the right path to take for now,” Rae agrees. “Thank you for so much aid, Jaezred.”
He nods. “You are welcome. And remember, you’re not just fighting against Antonia. You’re fighting a movement. An idea.”
Rae returns the nod solemnly, taking in the weight of the task ahead. Keros silently puts a hand on their shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything — Rae knows he’s got their back.
Crow rises from his seat and walks towards Jaezred at the other end of the table. “Milord. You don’t know me but I know you. I owe you thanks, not just for the tea, for the time you saved my village too.”
Jaezred gives the half-elf a puzzled glance. “Saved your village? Are you sure it was me, son, and not some other drow?”
“You helped get rid of the devils that took over the manor house. In Bloody Creek.”
“You’re from Bloody Creek? That’s impossible. The only survivors of the massacre were…” Jaezred stops, a look of realisation dawning on his face. “Ah. I see.”
Crow awkwardly looks down at his feet. He bows to Jaezred, gives everyone else a respectful nod, before shambling out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The crows perching on the windowsill outside each caw once and fly away. The windows are of darkened glass — they shouldn’t have been able to see inside.
Frigus excuses himself next after he has finished his tea and cakes, dragging a sleepy Waffles behind him. Rae tucks their spellbook away, and Keros takes this as a cue to collect his helmet and shield.
Before they leave, Jaezred turns to Keros once more. “If you need somewhere to release your frustrations, there’s a fighting pit here in the wharf, and in the Macadam Warehouse in Daring Heights.” Whilst he says that, a finger subtly goes up to point at the minotaur, and the message cantrip delivers a whisper to Keros that only he can hear.
And do me a favour and take Rae somewhere nice, eh? Just the two of you?
The massive, battle-hardened warrior is suddenly paralysed with wide-eyed fear. Jaezred flashes a cheeky grin at him, satisfied that his theory is proven right.
