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Madam President, Your Majesty


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The old rulers of Bruxenburg had been defeated. For as long as the elected parliament existed the centre-right alliance had ruled unopposed, the monarchist status-quo supporters had maintained the steady course of the country, but now the reformists and leftists had done something never thought possible. The reform alliance had gained supporters from the governing parties, but the government was planning a new election to put them in their place. The government was sure that any threats would be dealt with within the month. But things were left too late, and now their whole wurld was turned upside down.

The new Prime Minister was Henrik Peters of the Reform Party. He was first elected to his seat twenty five years ago, and had long been a thorn in the side of the government, the monarchy and Bruxenburg’s foreign benefactors. He had long campaigned for reform in every aspect of Brux life, from the legislature, to the economy and the military. He had spoken out against the pageantry and parade of the monarchy, which he deemed outdated, and a burden on the modern state, and despised the inequality between the ruling class and the poorest in Brux society. He was considered a danger to the very way of Brux life that had persisted for centuries, but now that he found his way into office, the winds of change would blow.

Delamaria had long been a supporter of the Brux government, ensuring a stable and loyal buffer between Delamaria and Velaheria, and as such worked openly, and in secret, to ensure the Brux remained as such. The DSS had long been tracking Peters’ career, deeming him a possible opponent to Delamarian interests, and that he was, Peters often spoke against Brux-Delamarian military cooperation, and Delamarian military installations, whether or not they were meant to defend Bruxenburg was not the issue, Delamaria represented an enemy of Brux independence and advancement in Peters’ eyes, and could not continue to hold the same amount of power over the kingdom.

In Leintwerp there was a quiet sense of panic surmounting, the civil service was caught off guard, the generals worried of a possible reshuffle and the Queen gathering her close advisors. The gates of St. William’s Palace swung open as several black state cars sped into the courtyard and their occupants hurriedly went to the Privy Council chamber. The Privy Council was an ancient institution, predating the foundation of Bruxenburg by centuries, but today it is worried for its own continued existence.

The councillors went to their seats quickly, waiting for the arrival of Her Majesty. The large ornate doors opened and the Queen, still in military uniform from an inspection she had to cut short, walked in with stress in her step. The councillors stood and bowed their heads until the Queen sat in her seat. 

“How did this catch everyone so off guard?” The Queen asked.

”Your Majesty” a councillor replied, “It would seem as though several of the smaller parties have conspired in secret for some time, and today the Alzi Liberal Party, part of the governing alliance, defected, giving the opposition a majority and a mandate to rule.”

The Queen sat annoyedly contemplating. “And what of Mr Peters, must I appoint him Prime Minister, and allow him to strip away all this nation has?” The Queen asked rhetorically. “Let him destroy our institutions until we are forced into exile?”

The room certainly agreed with the Queen’s statements, all of the men of the Privy Council were on Peters’ chopping block once he formally had the levers of power, whether they be Ministry directors, parliamentary officers or army generals, they were all opponents of Peters’ vision and would be the first to go. The Queen’s butler then knocked on the door and walked in.

”Mr Peters is on his way Ma’am, to receive his formal appointment”. The butler said.

The rooms eyes turned to the Queen, as she sat deep in her thoughts. The Queen was always a practical woman and knew what must be done, but for as long as she would live she would do what she saw best for her country, her kingdom and her family, and would not let anyone get in the way of that.

The Queen stood and the Privy councillors quickly followed and bowed their heads, the Queen then quickly left the room, thanking her councillors on the way out. She then walked along the long ornate corridors to one of her other state rooms where she would prepare to formally appoint Peters as Prime Minister.

In Delamaria news was just emerging of Peters’ victory, the President was in an engagement at the time and couldnt be consulted, therefore Vice President Patton was met by a bevvy of Foreign Department and DSS officials to deal with the unfolding situation. In the Delamarian government’s eyes, as long as any Brux government supported its containment of Velaherian influence, they wouldn’t see any need to intervene, however as would be described to the Vice President. “Peters is a wildcard, we know he dislikes Delamarian influence but equally he dislikes Velaherian, Dolch or Stedorian influence. He is a proponent of Brux independence which could be an advantage to us, but could equally mean that we lose all coverage over the region, we would have to greatly expand our covert intelligence in the south, and our relationships in Brux intelligence would be severed. The DSS doesn't advocate as of now for unilateral intervention. If we are to intervene openly or in secret we should be invited, as to not bolster Peters’ popularity and power over the Brux people”. 



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Though Peters was now Prime Minister and Head of Government he was forced to abide by centuries old traditions and powers held by the ruling class. The cabinet could hardly tell you what a poor person looked like and the military staff wouldn’t look at the average enlisted man. It was a miracle that Peters was ever elected, god knows the parliament had the same surnames as it did a century ago and his rise to office was the result of infighting amongst the elite, and little to do with the opinion of the public. It was an impossible job, promoting policies that his own MPs would vote against, trying to move a nation left that was so ingrained in the right. Everyone in power was against him, either publicly or in private, and would block his attempts to mould his vision for the country.

Of his few supporters was Carl Neumann, Chief of Police of Leintwerp-Hohen, and Colonel Robert Miere of the Third Motorised Division. When Peters term first started it was Neumann who cracked down on the protestors, and Miere who concerned the army not to act immediately. They were his foundation of power, a weak one, but enough to keep the ship afloat. 

On a warm July evening, with the sky light with reds and yellows, the three met in a ministerial residence in the countryside. “What is the point of being a socialist prime minister if I dont get to be socialist?” Peters said. “Am I to give in and feign compassion while the bourgeois go on running our country backwards or constantly run against a brick wall of lords, a parliament that despises me and a queen that wont look me in the eye.” Peters said holding his anger.

”The system is corrupted to its core Henrik” Miere said “We cant achieve our revolution in a country that doesn’t understand that its being exploited. Every day our people are used by the businesses and the lords, yes, but also by Queen, the Delamarians and whoever else needs a mailable bean bag to use for their own gain. If we want to achieve this in our lifetime we need a show of force, something to make sure that the scum in charge now wont ever run Bruxenburg into the ground again”. “Aren’t we all in charge?” Peters said jokingly. “Yes but you know who I’m talking about, the MPs and the lords, the ministers, the foreign agents” Miere continued. “Miere how do you suggest I do that? So one day I gut a ministry, what do you think happens then? the parliament shuffles around and im put out of a job, or if I arrest corrupt officials there’ll be a vote of no confidence or if I make a stand against the monarchy the army will swoop in and lay siege to my office and probably execute me in my chair. Without broader support what am I to do?”

Neumann suddenly sat up in his chair. “What if it wasn’t you who did that?” Neumann suggested. “Whoa im not going to get you to do my dirty work and end up in a ditch, no way” Peters replied. “No, not one of us, not even any official or member of government has as much power as this person.” Neumann continued. “I dont know where this is going” Peters said. “The Queen holds unique powers beyond any one person in the country. She can dismiss ministers, lords, members of parliament and generals. Additionally every soldier swears an oath to her, not to the government or their own commanders. If we were to put her majesty in a certain position to do what is required in order to achieve our goals then well congratulations gentlemen we’ve just achieved our revolution.”

Peters was visibly worried over the idea. Of course he could overthrow the aristocratic government he saw as the being leeching from his people, rid the nation of the oppressors and exploiters and even throw in an abolition of the monarchy. But at what cost? If it didn't succeed his best hope exile, if not the fate he’d earlier described. But then an eerie smile came across his face, as if everything had come together in his mind. “Gentlemen, how about we discuss this with a couple friends another time?” Peters said, before putting down his still full glass of whiskey and walking out of the room.

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