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Patrik Anslopav


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As Yorzipok Quent wheeled into the cabinet room, I couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to hold onto his life as long as he had. He turned his head to face me and said, "Why do you look at me in this way?" "I surely don't know what you mean" I reply. He looks at me skeptically, but proceeds nonetheless. "I have called this meeting to discuss who shall succeed my position when I pass." I look around the room, everyone else seems to be as uncomfortable as I am. I'm sure everyone in the room had all come up with some plan to seize power after Quent's passing, but I never thought he would address it with us. "I believe," he says, "that for Anblia to prosper in domestic and foreign affairs, we cannot risk another civil war or similar crisis over who will replace me." There is a series of nods and murmured agreements among the various generals and ministers before Quent continues. "I have considered this rather carefully, and I am proud to announce that my successor appointee shall be Major General Patrik Anslopav!" In the moment, I am stunned, I glance around and see the others applauding, but I can tell, they aren't applauding because they are happy for me, but rather out of mock respect and jealousy, and I know now, when Quent dies, I won't be pushed around, I will make these men kneel before me, I will make this nation bow before me. I thank Quent and shake his hand before departing the capitol building and getting into my private car. I tell the driver to take me to my residence, he gives me a quick nod and begins driving. As we drive through Vyetzya, the damages of the civil war are still apparent, and you could tell just by glancing at someone that they weren't happy. I used to look at them and feel bad, I used to tell myself I will improve their lives, but now, I no longer desire to improve the lives of those playthings. Now, I don't care.

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