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The Traitor, the Bad and the Puppet

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The Traitor, the Bad and the Puppet - Part 1


“People shouldn’t be afraid of their government.
Governments should be afraid of their people”,
Alan Moore, V for Vendetta

Since the fall of Francisquèz last Monday and the establishment of the new Republic, Montemadians were euphoric. Life suddenly seemed so light that people forgot about hunger, thirst, poverty, and all the other problems the country had been experiencing long before 1992. They had worn beautiful, colorful costumes, brought out trumpets, and danced all day to the rhythm of pinched double basses.
Later, when the euphoria had subsided, the provisional government (made up of a dozen politicians and demonstrators) organized elections. The numerous candidates organized themselves into a multitude of new parties. In order to make sure that everyone could listen to them, each one was broadcast on the radio, which created unusual scenes with about fifty people gathered around a single radio. Among the candidates, two stood out to the Montemadians. Antonio Dom Gavalèce, the first of them, was the president of the Montemadian Socialist Party and advocated an alignment with New Lyria. The second, named Pedro Riveira, was the president of the National Party, the spokesman of the conservative right and above all the figurehead of the movement that wanted total neutrality towards New Lyria and San Castellino. The more time passed, the more the two opponents found themselves neck and neck. The elections were going to be very close until, two days before the elections, a journalist brought to light many corruption cases in which Dom Gavalèce was involved. Then the Montemadians, deeply scandalized, almost all rallied to the side of Pedro Riveira who appeared from then on as a symbol of virtue and honesty. Dom Gavalèce has no more chance to win.



“The end may justify the means
as long as there is something that justifies the end”,
Leon Trotsky,
Their morals and ours: the class foundations of moral practices

The office of the Agency for the Defense of Neo-lyrian Interests (ADNI), i.e. the headquarters of the Neo-lyrian secret services, was located at the Quai Boiville, an art-deco building built on the ruins of the old Boiville train station after the Second Neo-lyrian War of Independence. First used as the headquarters of the Communal Council of Health and Solidarities, the Quai Boiville has been used as offices for the Neo-lyrian secret services since 1960. The office of Jean-Patrick Esther, director of the ADNI, was located on the 1st floor. As Esther had just been appointed, he had not yet had time to put personal effects in his office, which made it very empty, the only decorative elements being the neo-lyrian flag and a portrait of Esther.
Esther is walking in circles in her office. His serious air and his small glasses contrast with a strong carrure and a tall height. He is waiting impatiently for Gregory Livenot, the head of the Mesothalassa department, to discuss what to do, or if he should simply do something. Esther, on the other hand, already had an idea in mind. He wanted to strike a blow, a big blow, to impress the representatives of the Neo-Lyrian Communal Council and prove to them that he knows what he is doing. Indeed, his candidacy had been more than discussed because of his short stint at the Ministry of Defense which had ended in disaster. Someone knocks on the door.
- '' Come in. ''
Livenot opens the door, enters timidly and closes it. His brown velvet pants and worn jacket made it look like a university professor rather than a secret service big shot.
- '' Livenot, you see, my opinion is that we need a strong but discreet reaction. ''
- '' Precisely, if I may p- ''
- '' Have you heard about the pro New-Lyrian candidate? Gavalace or some sh#t like that. ''
- '' Yes, Gavaléce. He's accused of corruption and his popularity keeps dropping. ''
- '' Yeah but we don't care because he's pro Neo-Lyrian. That's why we have to rig the elections. ''
- '' What?! But the Montemadians will notice it!''
- '' Thank you Livenot for your advice, I count on you to implement the plan because, as you know, I am your hierarchical superior. Goodbye. ''
Concluded he by chasing Livenot of his office, satisfied of himself.



“Make money my son, honestly if you can, but make money”,
Edgar Poe

Being Foreign Minister in San Castellino is particularly boring for Ismael de la Plata, since most of the time he just has to sign documents, often diplomatic letters, written in advance by his uncle the Supreme Leader. While he is deep in an exciting (not at all) game of Tuffy Crush Saga®, the phone rings, which startles him and nearly knocks him off his chair. Suddenly, the phone rings, which surprises him and almost knocks him out of his chair.
- ''Ismael de la Plata, I'm listening. Good morning Mr. Madrera. Any news from the Mesothalassa? Yes. Calm down, I'm listening. ''
He grabs the cup of tea on his desk and starts to take a sip when, surprised by the news, he spits out his sip and splashes his desk.
- '' What?! Are you sure? Good God... Find out more about the situation over there and prepare his welcome. No, especially not in Asmavie. Montedoux instead. With great pomp, of course. I'll tell El Presidente. See you later and keep me updated.''
He hangs up the phone and takes a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the desk.
- '' Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go. ''
He gets up, locks his desk, and heads to the Supreme Leader's desk. Ismael makes a sign of the cross and opens the door.
- '' Presidente? ''
Di Foxycionni, standing with a cigar in his mouth, turns around and frowns.
- '' When you call me like this it means there's a big problem, Ismael. ''
- '' That is to say... the Montemadians have revolted against Francisquèz and... ''
- '' And what? It was suppressed in blood? That's all?''- '' No. The Montemadians succeeded and Francisquèz had to flee. He will arrive in a few hours in Montedoux. ''
The President, shocked by the surprise, nearly chokes on the smoke from his cigar. He coughs, a hand on his lungs.
- '' Are you sure?! ''
- '' Yes, Madrera just warned me. ''
- '' F#ck, f#ck!! ''
With fury, he takes the first object that falls on his hand and throws it on the ground. It breaks in thousand pieces. Ismael is startled and protests:
- But! It was the vase of Mom- ''
- '' I don't f#cking care! I needed to calm myself. ''
The general takes a great puff of his cigar and resumes. ''
- '' We need to impose an ultimatum on the new Montemadian government, something well-written that they will never accept. ''
- '' You want to declare war on them?! The diplomatic fallout will be catastrophic! ''
- '' Because you really think you can argue with my orders? Yes, we'll declare war on them, occupy them and put the puppet back on his throne. And to the beard of the neo-Lyrians, and all the other fags. Anyway, keep me posted, I'm going to Montedoux to welcome Francisquèz, and then in passing remind him of everything he owes us. See you later. ''
- '' Yes uncle, answers Ismael lowering his eyes, before leaving the office. ''
Di Foxycionni ruffles his nephew's hair with a paternal smile, grabs his jacket, closes the office and heads quickly to the first floor. Ismael, with his hands in his pockets and a pensive look, mutters to himself:
- ''We are not in the crap...''

Edited by San Castellino
Typo errors (see edit history)
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