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Eulycea last won the day on December 20 2019

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About Eulycea

  • Birthday April 23

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    Charles IV

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  1. I'd like to hop in on this roleplay, if you'd have me. Certainly no good Christian nation like Eulycea could ignore the plight of its fellows in a time like this. King Charles also more than ever needs to appear as a great humanitarian and liberator to his people, what with Republicans demanding his removal from politics. I would think he would be more than willing to find parliamentary approval and funding for the housing of as many as 50,000 refugees initially, with more in the future if need be. Unfortunately, our hospital ship is currently on its way to deal with Ceris, so it won't be able to render assistance. But we could charter other means of transportation, and certainly the Royal Army's medical corps (along with private charities and the national healthcare service) could handle their medical needs.
  2. The Constantine Palace Brisa, Eulycea It was still early enough in the morning that the sun hadn't come over the mountains to the east. Instead, the whole sky was bright pink and filling the city streets with an expectant air for important business. But today was Saturday, so no important business would be carried out. Only the shopkeepers and distributors drove about at this early hour to beat the traffic and deliver their goods before stores opened for the weekend shoppers. The Constantine Palace faced the western end of King Peter's Way, the broadest thoroughfare of the city, which at this moment was busy with fruit trucks and shop vans turning off the avenue's many side streets. With the keenness of hawks, the eyes of the palace guards—soldiers of the Royal Army's 1st Regiment of Foot—watched each and every one of these vehicles for any sign of suspicion. They paced down the building's roof, their brightly-striped uniforms half-concealed by the top of its facade. Others stood in the guardhouses posted every thirty meters or so down the curving sidewalk. The greatest concentration stood about the wrought iron gate to the palace's inner courtyard. The gate did well enough to stop pedestrians and the armed guards wandering tourists, but modern concrete bollards kept any vehicles from attempting to ram through and breach the ceremonial fortress. The roar of a motor caught everyone's ears. The guards turned to see a navy blue sedan bobbing and weaving between trucks and vans, paying no heed to angry horns and gesture-throwing drivers. As it headed like a bat out of hell straight for the palace gate, the guards placed their hands on their rifles. The sedan charged on, engine revving as it shifted up again. If he didn't lay his feet on the brake in the next split-second, the driver would end up a red smear on the cobbled driveway before the palace gate, car totaled against the immovable bollards. With expert—or lucky—touch, however, he did just that. Tires screeched until the sedan's hazardous race was over. The luxury car had pulled to a halt beside the guardhouse, engine purring smoothly, bumper just a few meters from meeting the bollards. The sedan's window rolled down. Out of the guardhouse filed the gatekeeper, nerves frenzied by the moment. "State your business," he said a little more sternly than usual for guests of the king. The driver yanked off his sunglasses and straightened his hair. He was wearing a nice suit and an even nicer watch on his wrist, which glistened in the morning sunlight as he tossed his identification at the guard. "Listen, I've got a meeting with the king," he spoke before his breath had caught up. "I'm Percy Arminger. I'm with The Times." "The Times?" the guard asked. "Yeah, of Eulycea. Can you let me through please?" The gatekeeper turned and went into his little guardhouse, checking the digital ledger for scheduled visitors. Sure enough, Mister Arminger of the Times of Eulycea was due for a six o'clock audience with His Majesty, King Charles IV. The gatekeeper double checked the name and the photo on the identification, holding it up to his computer monitor. He had royal invitation to enter, but the guard was hardly satisfied with letting such a reckless man in. He returned Mr. Arminger his identification, then nodded to one of his comrades, who brought a guard dog to sniff around around the sedan. The shepherd dog stuck out its tongue and panted, just as exasperated as its handler to find nothing suspicious about the vehicle. "Let him through," the gatekeeper ordered. He pressed a button on his own console and the bollards retracted. Two guards walked into the entry and swung the gate open. Mr. Arminger's sedan bounced over the cobbles and into the interior courtyard. He circled around the central fountain to a waiting valet at the far end from the gate. Dressed in an even better suit than Mr. Arminger's, the valet strode up and opened his door for him. "Your keys, sir," the valet put out his white-gloved hand. Mr. Arminger obliged quickly. "Which door am I going in?" The valet gestured to one of his fellow servants, just as impeccably groomed and dressed, who gave Mr. Arminger a small bow. "If you'd follow me, sir." The entrance corridor alone was more finely-decorated and finely-kept than any room Arminger had ever seen in his life. B The valet gestured to one of his fellow servants, just as impeccablroad mirrors lined the walls, which already bristled with master-carved accoutrements. Arminger adjusted his tie for the lump in his throat in one such mirror as they passed. The blue carpet, spotted with fleurs-de-lis, muffled their contented pace. "Can't we walk a bit faster?" he asked the servant leading him down the hall. "I have to see him at six. I have to get back to the Times before printing at seven." The servant only smiled politely. He stopped and knocked on the tall door beside them. It opened, and to Arminger's disappointment, a boy no older than twelve greeted them, dressed in an elaborate cream tailcoat and silk cravat. The boy bowed to Arminger and led him deeper into the palace. They walked down another hallway, passing every member and piece of the servile class: maids carrying fresh bed linens, manservants pushing dinner carts. Arminger balled his fists and picked up his feet as he walked, trying to rouse a more dignified air but only looking indignant. As a young journalist for the Times, he had more than a few words to say about the kingdom and how it was governed. This servant's passage and everyone in it, probably awake since four to attend to all the pampered needs of one rich family, spoke a hundred more volumes on the injustice of so-called "noble birth" than his weekly column ever could. The young page led Arminger up an ornate staircase to the second floor, where their pace slackened to a snail's. Arminger groaned. "C'mon kid, I'm already ten minutes late—" "Shh!" the page hissed him with a finger to his mouth. "Their Majesties are still in bed." Arminger balked silently at the impolite motion from a serving boy, but carried on like a kicked puppy around another carpeted turn. They stopped at last at their destination. The boy knocked against the door very softly, as only to disturb the one inside and no other on the second floor. "Come in," rumbled a man's voice from the inside. The boy opened the door gingerly and motioned Arminger inside. Arminger's heels clacked against a hardwood floor. At the other end of a dining table for twenty-four sat Good King Charles, alone at this early morning hour, sipping coffee and scanning a messy spread of documents set on the table. His silk nightwear was still wrapped in a cashmere bathrobe embroidered with his initials. His feet sat snug in two slippers. His eyes glanced skeptically up from behind low-sitting glasses at his visitor. "Mr. Percy Arminger, Your Majesty," the page announced before whispering to Arminger a stiff command: "Bow." Arminger made a hurried, overly-pronounced bow, rising with cheeks flushed and a strand of blonde hair draped over his forehead. Once he had, he noticed that the boy was gone, slipped out the door they'd just entered, leaving him alone with the King of Eulycea. The king's skeptical look gave way to a warm smile once he had surmised his guest. He returned his gaze to the pressing matters in the documents spread out before him. "Please, Mr. Arminger, don't just stand there," he called, waving his hand without moving his head from the page. "Come here and have a seat." Cowed, Percy obeyed and drew his seat at the table, beside His Majesty, who sat at the head. "Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?" "No, no thank you. Er, Your Majesty." His Majesty shrugged off Percy's embarrassed lack of address and drove straight to why he'd invited the young man to the Constantine Palace. "Tell me what the Press Office censors said to your bosses at the Times last night." Percy gulped. "T-they said, your Majesty, that we couldn't run the Democratic League article." The king hadn't looked Percy's way for the entire duration of their conversation so far, but suddenly his soft eyes looked him over quizzically. Percy realized that he was shaking before the king. He tried to steel his nerves with an iron grip around his own thighs. Charles IV reached into the front pocket of his bathrobe and fished out two cigarettes from a pack covertly stashed there. From another pocket, he produced a silver lighter. He set down his coffee and offered a cigarette to Percy. Percy shook his head and opened his mouth to offer another polite apology, but Charles cut him off. "Have a puff and calm your nerves. I'm only a king." "Only a king," Percy's mind repeated bitterly, but he took the cigarette and leaned in to let Charles light it with his silver lighter. Percy made sure to blow his smoke down the table. "Thank you, Your Majesty." His Majesty lit his own and spoke between puffs. "Now, what are your bosses planning to do about the censor?" "Well, they've talked to the company's legal counsel, and the Free Coverage Act says we can publish an article about Mr. Albani's new Democratic League so long as we don't express outright approval." For a little while, His Majesty said nothing. Then, he chuckled. "You political journalists must all have law degrees." Percy offered a hasty smile. "I have legal counsel of my own, you know. I'm sure you're acquainted, at least from your own coverage, with the King's Attorney, Baron Boniface de Lega." "Of course, Your Majesty." "He agrees with you. The government has no right to censor your coverage here." Percy's eyes widened. He paid no attention to his cigarette, whose ashes fell onto the carpet. "Really?" "And, for what it's worth, I agree with you as well," Charles continued. "I quite enjoy reading The Times, you know. It's no Republican rag, and it's not The Enquirer either. Usually you boys strike a good balance." "Thank you, Your Majesty." "But you must understand that Mr. Albani is attempting to challenge the constitution of this country, and the very foundations of its government." "Of course," Percy said rather dismissively. Internally, he said to himself: "Isn't that the whole point?" "The situation is more serious than you think. I don't believe his Democratic League will actually achieve anything on its own merits, but it's lulling Mr. Albani into a false sense of security, couched in so-called popular support. He may very well attempt something...drastic." The king sipped his coffee. Percy said nothing, for he hadn't really considered Mr. Albani as anything more than a man of words before—certainly not as a man of action. Charles' wistful eyes turned to the golden pools of light drifting in from the tall windows to the city outside. The sun had finally come up over the mountains. "In any case, I'll overrule the Press Office here. After all, if the article sits with me, then it must sit with my censors." The king rose from his seat. Percy hurried from his own. His Majesty rang a little bell that had been sitting on the table. Within a few seconds, another page, dressed identically to the boy who had led Mr. Arminger in, entered and bowed. "Would you show Mr. Arminger here out?" Charles asked. "And, while you're at it, collect my wife and daughter for breakfast?" The page bowed again. "Of course, Your Majesty. Although, Her Majesty the Princess has gone out for the morning." "Out? Where?" "De Torres Street, Your Majesty," the page flashed a glance at Mr. Arminger, hesitating to continue. Charles prodded him for more details. "Please. Mr. Arminger works for The Times, not The Royal Reporter." "She's gone to have coffee with a...boy from university." "Ah, yes, I remember her saying so at dinner. De Montedei or something like that." He turned to Percy. "Well, Mr. Arminger. You may tell your bosses to go ahead with what they were planning to do anyway. But do remind them to be considerate of the consequences." After the warmness His Majesty had shown in their brief meeting, Percy met the king's soft smile with a little more proper of a bow this time. "Yes, Your Majesty."
  3. Eulycea Rugby Continues Winning Streak, Defeats Seylos 35-11 "...[Eulycean team captain] Pagani told reporters that 'things were heated on the [Eulycean] bench,' after the rough tackle the Seylosians gave Bercator without penalty from referees. 'But we tapped into that anger for the rest of the game and it fueled us all the way to the end.'"
  4. 19 DECEMBER 2019 Eulycea Rugby Continues Winning Streak, Defeats Seylos 35-11 In the second week of the Six Nations Rugby Tournament hosted this year in Gallambria, Eulycea's rugby team trounced the Seylosian team with a solid 35-11 victory. After 15 minutes of back and forth, #34 Denis Bercator was tackled by a Seylosian player on the first long run of the game for the Eulycean side. The tackle forced him to the ground awkwardly on his right leg and his ankle was injured. Team members helped Bercator off the pitch while on the sidelines the bench booed and jeered at their Seylosian opponents loudly. Team captain Louis Pagani shut that down, however, and after a quick team conference, the team went on to start a 21-0 scoring run with a try from Pagani that completely shut down the Seylosian offense and penetrated its defense with ease for the rest of the game. Team managers announced Bercator suffered a spiral fracture on his right ankle and was admitted to a local hospital for treatment. He will not return to the pitch for the rest of the tournament. Pagani told reporters that "things were heated on the [Eulycean] bench," after the rough tackle the Seylosians gave Bercator without penalty from referees. "But we tapped into that anger for the rest of the game and it fueled us all the way to the end." Blaise Albani declares creation of "Democratic League" in Eulycea At a press conference in Brisa today, the President of the Republican Party of Eulycea, Mr. Blaise Albani, announced that his party and the Young People's Party of Eulycea would be co-founding a coalition of parties unrepresented on the parliamentary ballot. Mr. Albani and Mr. Timothy Girardi, leader of the Young People's Party, signed an agreement before the press that they would work together under the auspices of a new "Democratic League of Eulycea." Mr. Albani explained that the future aim of this Democratic League is the same as the current long-term goal of his Republican Party: to reduce King Charles to a ceremonial monarch and hand his executive powers over to elected leaders. Political experts predict that other unrepresented parties in parliament, such as the Secularist Party and Socialist Party, will soon join Mr. Albani's coalition. The Democratic League will hold its first convention in Brisa sometime early next year. With a broader coalition than merely the Republican Party's substantial membership rolls—last seen hovering around 90,000—Mr. Albani hopes that petitions to repeal the exclusionary acts that keep his party and others from Parliament will succeed. However, he has already faced some criticism for this move, especially from existing detractors of the Republican Party such as Baron Benedict de Forgia, an MP of the King's Party. Baron de Forgia told The Times that "inviting radicals and extremists and all the riff-raff of the kingdom's politics will only turn His Majesty's Parliament away from [Mr.] Albani's cause." Speaking with The Times, Mr. Albani replied that "the people out on the street and the people working for a miser's wage may seem like plain old riff-raff to a baron, but they ought to have as much of a say as any duke, count, or king in how this country is run." His Majesty's Press Office could not be reached to comment.
  5. Eulycea Defeats Oyus 38-26, Lining Up for Rugby Championship
  6. DECEMBER 8 Eulycea Defeats Oyus 38-26, Lining Up for Rugby Championship Today, the Eulycean national rugby team defeated Oyus 38-26 in a remarkable victory from behind. Both teams met each other with spectacular aggression, making the game a dynamic toss-up in the first twenty-five minutes with the Oyusards in the lead. But soon their fortunes were reversed when the Eulycean team, led by captain and star player Louis Pagani, scored thirty-one points and ended the game with a twelve-point lead. "This team is energy," Pagani told reporters after the game. "Our game is frenzy. We're going to go as hard as we can as long as we can, and I think that puts us in great shape to take the cup." His Majesty, Charles IV, telephoned the Eulycean team playing in Gallambria and congratulated them after the game. The Six Nations Rugby Tournament, hosted at Cobram Park Stadium, will continue until January 13th. It is not an elimination tournament, so the team with the most points (determined by their wins and margins of victory) will take home the championship cup. Eulycea wishes her rugby team the best of luck!
  7. From His Excellency, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Albert Horace de Grandavilla, Count Sancta Pascha de Pampo: To His Excellency Eugenios Goulielmos, Megas Logothetes of the Agios Basilikon Kounsistorion of the Megas Agios Basileia ton Arhomanion [@Tagmatium Rules]: Your Excellency, His Majesty, Charles IV by the Grace of God, King of Eulycea, wishes his Great and Good Friend, the Emperor of Arome, a healthy and prosperous rule. There are too many superlatives upon which we may laud his Greater Holy Empire to remain the proper length for diplomatic correspondence, though we are obliged to note the deep and irrepressible ties of faith and heritage which bind our two peoples together. Truly, in tongue, belief, and sacrament, we share common goal and kinship. As such, embarking upon a new chapter in our nations' relations with each other, cognizant of this shared history, is an objective which His Majesty celebrates with great aplomb. He thoroughly endorses and approves the exchange of embassies between our countries and appoints, with the assent of His Most Loyal Parliament, His Excellency, the Baron of Monte Tridini, Martin Cornelius de Faucus, to the post of Ambassador to the Greater Holy Empire. May God bless and ordain our mutual national efforts to grow closer in harmonious accord with one another.
  8. From His Excellency, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Albert Horace de Grandavilla, Count Sancta Pascha de Pampo: To the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Kingdom of @Seylos: On behalf of His Majesty, Charles IV, King of Eulycea by the Grace of God, who desires only the peace and security of all nations, who nonetheless observes the potential for conflict brewing on the island of Ceris, and who, with the means available to him, seeks to alleviate the possible sufferings of the peoples there, we wish to ask your government's most gracious permission to receive our hospital ship, the HMS Clementia, in the port of Swansea for thirty days upon her arrival there. Though a vessel of His Majesty's Royal Navy, in accordance with international convention the Clementia's status as a hospital ship means she carries no offensive armaments on board. She has a crew of 181, including 21 doctors. She has space for three hundred patients, twenty for patients in intensive care, and four operating theaters. A picture of her is attached to this communiqué. With your permission, the Clementia will depart from the port of Ristua in three days after completing her activation procedures.
  9. From His Excellency, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Albert Horace de Grandavilla, Count Sancta Pascha de Pampo:* To whom it may concern: Since the constitutional institution of this ministry in 1855, my predecessors in this office have always endeavored to serve the will of the King of Eulycea by promoting good faith between the kingdom and foreign powers. His Majesty, Charles IV, King of Eulycea by the Grace of God, has appointed me to this prestigious position to do the very same. His Majesty desires no barrier to happy companionship with the nations of the world who equally desire peace and cooperation. However, there are some powers in the world who do not desire such virtues. While His Majesty shall not disrespect the sovereignty of foreign nations nor deprive his own people of their fundamental dignities, he cannot by the same token withhold himself from stern condemnation of those who do not promise the same. To this end, I bid you inquire soon regarding your future relations, if they be uncertain, with the Kingdom of Eulycea. Diplomatic Missions to Eulycea: From the Matriarchy of Oyus: Ambassador Stella Raga Current Diplomatic Corps: His Grace, Lawrence Taxo, the Bishop of Madeo - Ambassador of King Charles IV to Salvia His Excellency, Roman de Lada - Ambassador of King Charles IV to Oyus * Addressed officially as "His Excellency, the Minister of Foreign Affairs" or personally as "His Lordship, the Count of Sancta Pascha de Pampo."
  10. Welcome to Eurth! I've very much enjoyed everything you've written in the Academy so far. Keep it up!
  11. Nation in Europa: The Kingdom of Eulycea Flag: Capital name: Brisa Capital location: Factbook link: https://iiwiki.us/wiki/Eulycea Newsroom link: Culture: Eulycea embraces a culture analogous to western Europe, particularly the western Mediterranean. As the product of the Salvian Crusades, it has significant Salvian influences, particularly in its state religion (Eulycean Catholicism, a schismatic branch of Salvian Catholicism). However, the common (and official) language is Eulycean Aroman, primarily as the result of the evangelization of the Order of St. Joseph, who assimilated much of the native Lycean peoples into Catholicism by teaching them Aroman and Aromanizing their names and culture. This resulted in the cultural assimilation from the bottom up of the Salvian colonial elite into a distinctly Aromanish culture. Climate: Eulycea has an arid, equatorial climate divided across three terrains: coastal plain, highland plateaus, and mountains. While near the coast, temperature is fairly mild and dry, the mountaintops remain cold and snowy all year. It is most analogous to Peru. Location History: The Lycean peoples (analogous to indigenous Andean peoples pre-Columbus) developed a complex, well-organized agricultural society from 5,000 BC to 1100 AD, where they were finally unified under the Tihuanaco Empire. While the region had always been abundant in precious metals, the discovery of a massive new deposit at Montargent in the 1400s prompted invasion from the Yellow Empire in the 1400s, resulting in the Tihuanaco Empire becoming its tributary puppet. The Salvians, who were obstructed in trade by the Huang with their Lycean subjects, declared a crusade in Lycea as part of their broader campaign to dismantle the Yellow Empire in the 16th century. It succeeded, and the Salvian king became a dual monarch of both Salvia and Eulycea, with a governor administering the colony in his place. Later, in the 1700s, when republicans overthrew the Salvian monarch, he fled with much of the nobility to Eulycea, becoming a de facto (and later de jure) sovereign kingdom of its own.
  12. 2 NOVEMBER 2019 Princess Christina denies pregnancy rumors Earlier this week, Her Highness, Princess Christina, the Duchess of Brisa, appeared live on Eu24 to discuss her new life among the royal family. After marrying last July His Royal Highness, the Duke of Brisa, Charles, the heir apparent to the throne, she has been "enjoying life quite splendidly." The newly-weds spent their nearly month-long honeymoon in the Tapeltans at an undisclosed skiing lodge that belonged to the bride's family, House Bosonona. "Charles and I are both very athletic," Her Highness commented. "We made great sport of racing each other down the mountain on our skis." But for all their athleticism, and all that time spent in serene seclusion, no pregnancy ever came. Neither Her Highness nor her husband made any comment, after returning from their honeymoon, on the lack of a child. But anonymous sources intimate to the royal family make note that rumors began to fly around this time last year that the couple was having difficulty conceiving. A historical expert on the royal family, Dr. Augustin Beusas, weighed in. "It's no surprise to me," he said, confirming the information provided by our sources. "The Sybinan family has always demonstrated fertility issues. After all, was it not Queen Rose [1811-1876] who did not have her only son, Charles I, until she was thirty-one? And she, herself, was King Michael's only surviving child? And equally so with the Sybinans today: His Majesty and Her Majesty after thirty-seven years of marriage still only have two children." Earlier last month, however, the rumors took an entirely different flavor. Her Highness, Princess Christina, cancelled a gala she was hosting on the 5th, and then a press event on the 7th, due to "unforeseen illness," in the words of the Public Office. It was not described as serious illness, and neither was she admitted to a hospital. Our sources tell us that speculation abounded about it being morning sickness, the first signs of her first child with her husband Charles. Apparently, such rumors became so widespread that she had been approached with many congratulations, gifts, flowers, and letters from well-wishers over the past few weeks, as Her Highness confessed to the hosts of Eu24. "I am afraid I must settle the gossip and explain there is no pregnancy yet," Her Highness said politely, with only a hint of sadness in her voice. "Charles and I have been trying for a baby, yes, but nothing has come of it yet," she reiterated. "Have you considered fertility treatments?" one host asked. Her Highness confirmed that they were. "It's the first time the royal family has ever considered such treatment in public," Dr. Beusas noted. We here at The Reporter will be wishing her and Charles, nonetheless, the best of luck. There's a new kid on campus: HRH Princess Lily Adrienne If you study at the University of Brisa, there's a chance you might be rubbing shoulders with royalty. Her Royal Highness, the Princess Lily Adrienne, daughter of Charles IV and younger sister to the Duke of Brisa, is finally taking up studies in the university's international affairs program. Initially, it was unclear what the young Princess, still only eighteen, would be doing after graduating St. Mary's Academy for Girls in Montelupo, her private secondary school of just two years. The Princess, who had been previously tutored her whole life in relative seclusion, remained an enigma then. Some expected that she would be engaged after marriage, with such wild theories as a wedding to the widowed Duke of Usco, though he is nearly fifty years her senior, but no ridiculous thing as that ever came. Instead, the Princess appeared to be taking time off for personal study (though she continued to compete publicly in dressage events). Yesterday, the Public Office, in cooperation with the University of Brisa, announced Her Royal Highness would begin attending the institution's international affairs program. The reasons for her delay before entering school were ascribed to security concerns. We spoke with one anonymous student, who showed us they had been removed from a course unexpectedly due to such security concerns—a class, evidently, that the Princess is taking. Indeed, students and faculty have both noticed the intensified presence of suited guards around campus. Though no trouble ever came to the Duke of Brisa when he attended the university in 2005 and 2006, it appears that Good King Charles is taking no chances with his precious daughter.
  13. Here, curated for the international reader's viewing pleasure, are selected headlines from some of Eulycea's most popular news publications. Currently, these publications include:
  14. THE CARNIOLA HOTEL BRISA, THE KINGDOM OF EULYCEA In the fifty years since the hotel’s ugly concrete first graced the Brisa skyline with all the charm of a cement mixer, the Grand Ballroom in the basement, with its more traditional furnishings—well-groomed carpets, intricately-shaped décor, and long, flowing curtains—had nonetheless made the hotel a fitting venue for countless events hosted by King Charles and his predecessor. Tonight, instead of the ruling monarch, a man in a fashionable tuxedo stepped out onto the stage to the polite applause of a seated crowd. As he strode to the podium, he recalled a boyhood memory of watching some diplomatic event on the television at home between the king and his foreign guests, hosted in this very same chamber. He remembered marveling at the golden flutings on the ceiling that concealed the steel beams which bore the roof of this concrete cavern. Even now, between the stage lights that made his eyes squint and burn, he spotted and marveled at them again. The irony of the moment was not lost upon him. Where kings had delivered addresses and met the leaders of the world, the newly-elected President of the Democratic League of Eulycea, Blaise Albani, now met his supporters. Thanks to the wonders of broadcast television, it was now his face on millions of screens in every city, neighborhood, and hamlet across the nation. Maybe someday, some little boy watching tonight would remember his speech in this beautiful ballroom. That little distracting memory helped him relax his nerves before delivering the most important speech of his political career thus far. He arranged his notes on the podium and began to speak. PALACE OF SAINT GREGORY BRISA, THE KINGDOM OF EULYCEA “—Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished guests, representatives of the people who have no voice in this country’s government,” the honeyed voice of Blaise Albani filled the quiet room. The balding man centered in the room behind an imposing desk put down the bland report he had been reading and looked to the television opposite him. “I have to begin by thanking the leadership of the Christian Democratic Party of Eulycea, the Democratic Party of Eulycea, the Youth Party, the Green Party, and the Socialist Party of Eulycea for electing me to this most important position. I thank them because they have given me the opportunity to speak to all those here tonight and watching at home—they have given me the opportunity to say I will serve you, the people of Eulycea. No man can serve you who hasn’t been chosen by you!” The television thundered with applause at these last few forceful words. The man watching at the desk retrieved a cigarette from his shirt pocket. The blue smoke that swirled across the room with each slow breath did less to obscure the annoying picture of that gleeful demagogue and more to water the man’s weary eyes. He had been working since eight this morning, and would not likely be with his wife for dinner tonight, given how many papers stacked up on his desk he still had to approve. The man dashed a few ashes into a crystal tray and rubbed his yawning mouth. “If only he knew how much more work the public servant has besides giving speeches,” he muttered towards the television. A knock rang against the mahogany door across the room. The man sighed in relief that he had an excuse beyond his own irritation to turn off Albani’s speech. As soon as he had done so, the door swung open and a colorfully-uniformed page stepped inside the office. He bowed low to the man at the desk, who replied with a silent nod. “Your Majesty, the Director of Ambroi House is here to see you,” the page said. “Very well.” He gestured for the page to show her in. The page bowed again and strode back out. A moment later, a woman in a fashionable suit appeared and curtsied before the King of Eulycea. “I must apologize for keeping Your Majesty,” she said. “Not at all, Michelangela,” Charles replied to his director of intelligence. “Tonight was going to be a working night besides our scheduling conflicts. What do you have for me?” The woman smiled politely at the king’s forgiveness and took a seat in front of his desk. He finished his cigarette while she gave her weekly report of the kingdom’s intelligence service. As it always had, it featured the religious radicals which had opposed the Christian kingdom since its establishment by those crusaders under Charles’ ancestor Bartholomew. In the past week a small cell of fundamentalists had cropped up deep in the hinterlands near Mount Tarsus. “What are you doing about them?” Charles asked. “My operations director, Scutari, has begun refocusing the efforts of our informants in the area towards information about this cell. He says within the month we will have their size, their identities, and their meeting location.” “What will you do then?” he said as he scrutinized Ms. Palaroi. “We will embed agents within the cell and certify our informants’ claims,” she answered with a hint of exasperation, like she was speaking to a preschooler and not the King of Eulycea. Charles’ brow furrowed ever so slightly. Her teeth always seemed to show around the corners of her lips, like she was grinning even when she was deadly serious. Her dark, penetrating eyes made that grin as sinister as a shark’s. He always felt guarded around his intelligence director, though he supposed that made her good at her job. “If Your Majesty permits it, we would then proceed to eliminate the cell and the threat it represents to the kingdom,” she concluded. “Are you certain this isn’t some group of underground worshipers, and not a security threat?” “Yes, we are certain it is a security threat. Underground worshipers, Your Majesty, are still security threats even if they aren’t actively planning anything. They breed radicals.” She said her final pronouncement so plainly that, while unsubstantiated, it still had some air of authority. Not enough authority, however, for a king, or any thinking person at that rate, to overrule. “Underground worshipers aren’t enough of a security threat to be ‘eliminated,’” said Charles. He watched her momentarily tense her jaw at his disagreement, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “I will sign off on your agents collecting evidence for a criminal investigation by the police, but no extraordinary action will be required by your directorate.” She nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. The final plan will be sent here to be approved in the morning. That is all for today.” “Very well. Good night, Michelangela.” “Good night, Your Majesty.” He didn’t turn the television back on. Queen Margaret would relate the highlights of Albani’s speech to him over dinner. He rose from the unfinished business on his desk and departed his office not long after his intelligence director. The thought of Ms. Palaroi’s grin still gave him shivers. THE CARNIOLA HOTEL Blaise Albani rode both an emotional rollercoaster and the elevator back to his suite on the twenty-ninth floor. The speech had been wildly successful—his aides had been watching the television ratings soar all night—but it left his knees too exhausted and his nerves too wired afterwards to rub more shoulders with the party bosses in the Grand Ballroom. He had done enough drinking and schmoozing with them beforehand to secure a majority of their votes. Now that he had their votes, it didn’t matter if he didn’t flatter their policies tonight. The tides of democracy were rising in Eulycea, and Blaise Albani could afford to float comfortably while it raised him up to dethrone the king. Two suited guards at the doors to his suite nodded their salute. He smiled and entered, heading straight for the minibar. Drinking was always more fun in private. He didn’t have to worry about the liquor spilling what he really thought of his political allies--of the people he was forced only by desperate necessity to “I even have to socialize with socialists,” he complained to himself, more bitter than the whiskey he now nursed. He leaned against the window, watched the city lights glitter below, and felt the alcohol wash over his nerves. He looked at his watch: five past nine. His face flushed in alarm when he remembered, besides the minibar, why he really excused himself from the Grand Ballroom. He had a meeting with her at nine o’clock. But then he relaxed, placed his head back against the wall. She was the late one here. The phone rang on the coffee table. He walked over and answered. “Hello?” “Mr. Albani,” one of his guards greeted him. “There’s a man here to see you.” Albani blinked. “A man?” he asked. “Yes sir, a man,” the guard repeated. “He says his name is Michelangelo.” That wasn’t right. She said she would be here, Albani thought to himself. Who was this man? How had he even gotten up to the twenty-ninth floor? How had he not been turned away by his security detail yet? And why was he using her name? There were only two conclusions Albani could reach. Either the man was with her, or he knew of her secret meeting with Albani. The first annoyed him. The latter made his heart race with panic. He swallowed and made up his mind. “Show him in. But come in yourselves and watch him.” The doors to the suite opened. A young man as tall and thin as a beanpole entered, though his suit was hardly ill-fitting. That would be too conspicuous. Albani knew the boy was here for clandestine business. “Congratulations on your speech,” he greeted Albani warmly, extending his hand. As Albani shook it, the young man paused, waiting for the doors behind him to close and conceal the subject of their conversation. He continued in lower tones, eyes glancing sideways at the guards who had entered with him. “My boss says she’s sorry she can’t make it tonight. I have a message from her to give you, but it’s for your ears only.” Albani looked the young man over. His eyes were untrained in this personal security sort of thing; he couldn’t tell if the boy was armed. He wasn’t trained to fight off an assailant either. All he had was whiskey in his veins to put up a fight if the guards weren’t around to protect him. But Albani liked to gamble, and like any gambler, he believed in the old fallacy. He had already put in enough risk agreeing to meet; he figured her message was worth a little more. He motioned for the guards to leave. Reluctantly, the bulky men slipped back out the doors to man their post outside. Albani and the young man took their seats on the center couches. “Thank you for trusting me. My name is Fabrice Scutari. I’m operations director for Ambroi House. As you already guessed, my boss is Director Palaroi.” “Why isn’t she here?” Albani grunted. “Affairs of state, I’m afraid,” Scutari replied. “She had to give Good King Charles his weekly intelligence briefing, and this was the only time their schedules allowed.” “He works this late?” “He’s rather diligent. Makes him easier to distract with talk about fundies in the mountains,” Scutari shrugged. Albani returned to the point of his prior question. “I agreed to this meeting on the condition I’d be speaking with the king’s own intelligence director.” “You are, in some respect. She entrusted me as her representative. I know what she has to offer you.” “Go on,” Albani waved his empty glass. “She has a few terms first. She wants a reward for what she’s got to give. Once you take power—with the help of what she’s given you, of course—she wants to be the Interior Minister.” “A promotion?” “To full control of both the police and intelligence services, yes. I would take her spot as Director of the...well, it wouldn’t be the Royal Intelligence Directorate, but whatever its equivalent is in the government you form.” “So that’s how she got you to represent her tonight,” Albani surmised. “Precisely.” Albani rose and poured himself another drink. He raised the bottle, asking if Scutari wanted some whiskey himself. The young man shook his head. Albani returned to the couch, threw back another gulp of alcohol, then spent a few moments staring into his reflection in the liquor. This woman and her subordinate wanted hefty spoils. He could take solace in their competence; they were certainly going to be more suited to the Interior Ministry than any political appointment he’d be forced to make once the Democratic League had forced the king out of politics. Yet the deal wasn’t that easy to accept. Here Scutari and Palaroi were, in a suite on the twenty-ninth floor of The Carniola, betraying their boss for something as small as a promotion in the bureaucracy. Albani shuddered, realizing there was a strong possibility they would betray him once he was in power, if they saw the opportunity for self-gain. “It depends on how good the information is that she has to offer,” Albani ultimately decided. Scutari cocked his head to the side. “Information?” “That’s what Palaroi said she had for me. Information.” Scutari chuckled. Even if it came from a baby face who still looked freshly-graduated from university, it carried the same malevolent undertones Palaroi herself had in that toothy grin of hers. “Well, I guess it is information in a sense. She can tell you of a potential plan. But she’ll only execute it with your permission—and your guarantee of reward.” “What plan?” Albani ventured. Scutari leaned forward in his seat conspiratorially. “She and I can make the whole task of dethroning the king that much easier for you. It’s as simple as regicide.” Albani spat out his drink onto the plush carpet. “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. Scutari said nothing. “My God, you actually mean it.” Albani rubbed his temples. “You’re crazy. You’re both crazy.” “Not crazy. Reasonable.” “Even if you kill King Charles, there’s still two kids—two heirs out there,” Albani countered. “Prince Charles will simply become King Charles V. Once they find out it was you behind it, you’ll be hanged.” “You’re going to doubt how much thought we put into this?” Scutari growled. He rose and strode over to the window, taking a look at the city for himself. He spoke to his reflection’s sneer rather than to Albani. “In this city, there hasn’t been a single terrorist attack in fifteen years because of what our directorate does. What Michelangela and I, and all the agents in operations, have done. We’ve stopped every fundie and every wacko trying to bomb a train or shoot the king. There’s been dozens of attempts. There’s been dozens of would-be terrorists. They’re all dead or imprisoned, and not a single person down there knows their names. We are so f*cking good at our job because we think through how we’re going to kill a person. Or a family.” Albani glanced towards the doors, starting to long for escape. He really hoped Scutari wasn’t armed now. “They won’t figure out we were behind it,” Scutari continued. “You will be in power, and there won’t be an investigation. Charles and the whole family—Charles Jr., Margaret, Princess Lily, even Christina—they’re all boarding a plane for Ristua at the end of the week. One little missed maintenance check, or one fundie-sympathetic pilot, and we can bring down the Kingdom of Eulycea. If anyone will be blamed for it, it’ll be the ground crew or an insane pilot. You will express sympathy to those grieving, but announce that clearly this country cannot go on with John the Drunk in charge. The country will have no choice but to back the Democratic League.” Albani rubbed his mouth. It was well thought-out. It solved the problem of chasing every poll of approval. It solved surviving a national plebiscite. Most importantly, it brought down the time scale for democratic revolution in Eulycea from years to days. Yet there were so many things that could go wrong. What if Prince Charles and his wife Christina didn’t board the plane with his father? What if Lily Adrienne didn’t skip her university classes for this trip to Ristua? What if someone was sick, and the trip was canceled? What if someone discovered the sabotage before they took off? What if some investigator just thought it was a little too convenient for the entire royal family of Eulycea to die in a plane crash the same week the Eulycean Democratic League was formed? He took another swill of whiskey. There was a lot of risk, but Albani was a gambler. For this much of a jackpot, even a lot more risk was worth it. “Fine. Do it.” “What was that?” Scutari turned and approached Albani, who was still seated on the couch. “You have my permission...” Albani trailed off. He stared back at himself in the drink, wondering what he was doing. “...to kill King Charles and the royal family.” Scutari nodded, and extended his hand. Albani half-heartedly shook it. When he looked up, he shrank with alarm once he saw the pistol that Scutari had in his other hand, pointed at Albani. “I-I agreed! We had a deal!” Albani stammered. “We have something better. We have a plan.” Scutari, entirely too pleased with himself, placed the gun back in his coat. “If you hadn’t agreed to it, I would have had to kill you for knowing it.” Albani gulped and nodded. Scutari stepped away and towards the door. Before pulling it open, he bode good night to the frightened man. “We won’t be in touch, Mr. Albani. But if you forget about the Director and I once you become a real President...” Scutari tapped his breast, where the inner pocket and the gun was. “Well, you know what we can do.” Scutari rode the elevator down from the twenty-ninth floor to the sub-basement parking lot. He stepped into the passenger’s seat of a black sedan. In the driver’s seat, Michelangela Palaroi sipped her coffee. “So, did you get him to say yes?” she asked. “I convinced him with my youthful, charismatic idealism and then he nearly shit himself once he saw I had a gun.” “Did you get it?” she repeated. Scutari fished out his phone from his breast pocket, beside his sidearm. He tapped to stop recording, then tapped again to start playback. “Fine, do it.” The voice was less-than-honeyed, but it was unmistakably Blaise Albani’s. Even a little boy watching his earlier speech on television that night could tell it was Albani’s voice. “What was that?” a voice much closer to the microphone asked. “You have my permission...to kill King Charles and the royal family.” Palaroi grinned. “Thank you, Mr. President.”
  15. Eulycea

    The Front Desk

    YOUR RP NATION Full Name of Nation: The Kingdom of Eulycea Government type of nation: Constitutional monarchy Culture/ethnicity of your nation: Some sort of Italian, Latin, and Mediterranean synthesis, though the exact details depend on the nation's IC history and its neighbors. Give us a short description of your nation: One of the rare places where vague notions of feudalism have survived into the twenty-first century, Eulycea retains an empowered king who makes and executes law in conjunction with the national parliament, making him both head of state and government. However, the small nation has struggled to modernize its economy and growth has stagnated, possibly as a consequence of its antiquated political system. Do you have an IIWiki page?: No. WRITING EXPERIENCE How would you describe your level of experience in regards to roleplaying? While I have been roleplaying and writing for many years now- in D&D, games, forums, and elsewhere- I only began roleplaying on NationStates in 2015. How would you describe yourself? I love writing stories if I have the inspiration, though I sometimes struggle to deliver a finished product. Still, it's even more entertaining to do it with other people. RP/Writing samples (if available already): Do you wish to have a mentor assigned to you to help guide you through the start of your time here? Yes, please. NATIONSTATES Why do you want to join this region?: I've been looking for another active roleplay community that has high commitment to quality since I first got a taste of it several years ago. Looks like I finally found it! Have you ever had trouble with any moderators?: No. Do you have any prior experience on NationStates? I've never been one for the gameplay side of things, nor regional politics. I've only cared about the roleplay. But still, I started with The Pacific in 2015, helped oversee roleplay there for a little while, then moved on from NationStates in 2017 with a group of worldbuilding friends. I've come back since those projects died deeply missing nation-based roleplay. Are you currently or do you plan to be a member of the NationStates World Assembly? I am. Anything else?: Nope. Providing any falsified or deliberately misleading information will result in your application being rejected and your access to the forum revoked. By submitting this form, you are indicating that you agree to abide by the community and RP rules of this community. Any breach thereof may result in disciplinary action including but not limited to revoking of forum posting rights, banning from the forum, removal of regional citizenship, and ejection from the region.
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