The Declaration of Independence of the Republic of Terranayon

[Nayonland]

Image from Diario de Tondo Online Archives

Caption: "16 de febrero de 1987."

Plaza Barrionuevo, Tondo, Equatorial Alharu

February 16, 1987

Morning

A million people, one of the two men heard. That is the alleged number of people attending this rally. The two men have been watching the scene since the first hour of the day. Long before sunrise. They saw how a small group preparing sound equipment on Soriano Grandstand grew to these teeming masses.

The two men watch, but people barely notice them. As it should be. If they wore their uniforms and badges, on top of their white skin, they would be pummelled to death. Their best protection consists of a plain shirt with colorful pins stuck on it. They read "Voto para el Katagabayon", "Segregation is Wrong", "¡Un pueblo, una nación!", among a dozen others. Some of the pins they grabbed from college students and young activists, offering them out in baskets when they passed by. The crowd was a mix of races. There are Tagabays, Kastilas, and Fulgistanis. There are mestizos, too.

One of the two men is sweating profusely. "¡Dios mío! The heat is killing me." He said in a heavy Stillian accent.

The other man wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "I know." He easily said in Anglish. "It amazes me how you people can tolerate this weather."

"Look!" His Stillian companion points at the grandstand. "There he is!"

A man walks to the podium, waving to the roaring cheers of the people. He is wearing a barong, a traditional Tagabay attire. It is a breathy, see-through outfit used for formal occasions. The Stillian man knows there is a myth propagated by anti-colonial propaganda related to the barong. But that will have to wait until after they finish their job. They have to pay special attention to the Tagabay man behind the podium. He waited for a minute or so for the crowd to calm down.

He starts, "Buenas Dias!" The crowds greet back, roaring again.

"For those who don't know me, I am Malim Anuar. I am a Salamid." He pauses. "I am a Tagabay. But most importantly, I am Nayongan."

The crowds roar and clap.

The two men join the jubilant sea of people, clapping and whistling. It is deafening. The Stillian man, smiling, has to shout to speak to his Anglian companion, "Puta! Majority rule soon!"

"Not bloody likely!" The Anglian points to the large dome looming over the plaza. "Independence declaration!"

"Just rumor!"

"We'll see!"

Edited November 6 by RalphTheLiar (see edit history)

[Nayonland]

Image from online messageboard "threadit.com/r/Nayonland"

Thread title: "Plaza Nuevo Barrio in 3d"

Edificio Legislativo, Tondo, Equatorial Alharu

August 12, 1986

Prime Minister Elia Field wants to hang up. She does not like hearing Iverican, especially from who she is hearing it on the other end of the handset, stretching all the way to Intreimor.

"...I am warning you, Prime Minister. Equatorial Alharu will be cut off from the rest of the wurld."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Foreign Minister."

"A draft for the independence declaration has reached us."

Puta. How did he get that? Field found that strange. As far as she knows, the idea was just an idea. She explicitly told everyone in the Council of Ministers to keep everything tight-lipped until after the referendum next year.

Realizing the silence from the Foreign Minister, she starts talking again, "I can assure you, sir. I have no idea about this."

"Well, it's a surprise you don't know. Because I got the draft from your former subordinate, the previous Commander of the Guardia Civil."

Puta! Suárez could only sigh at this point.

"Madame Prime Minister. If you want a real deal for the White Nayongans, let me repeat the prerequisites: The referendum voters will include all Tagabays. No more income, education, or property qualifications. No more urban versus rural."

"Yes, of course."

"Make sure to mention that in the referendum announcement. I will be watching you in your televised address tomorrow."

"Yes, Minister."

"One more thing. Before we end this call..."

"Yes?"

After one more minute of pretending to agree, the call ended. Suárez takes a deep breath. She picks up the handset again and dials a number. She has been waiting to do this since these blasted negotiations started. Plans will have to change.

"Quetal? Primera ministra?"

"Diles a los chicos que es hora."

Edited November 29 by Nayonland (see edit history)

[Nayonland]

Image from the official website of the District of Nuevo Tondo, Tondo

Caption: “Palacio de Tondo. Formerly the residence of the Grand Datu of Tondo.”

Palacio de las Flores, Tondo, Equatorial Alharu

May 6, 1979

“I have never heard such nonsense.” Crown Prince Sulayman says in Anglish as he cleans his hands in the wash bowl held up by a servant.

“It is going to happen, Your Highness,” replies his Anglian private secretary, Michael Price. “The Caerlanni Free State wants the help of the Assembled Nations to assist it in the Deconstruction.”

“Absolutely ridiculous.” He shakes his head. Then he stops and narrows his eyes at Price. “How did the audience respond?”

Price smiles. “They applauded.”

Sulayman guffaws. “Anak ng puta! The wurld has gone mad.”

“Probably just Anbrekport.” Price scratches his head. “What I find really puzzling is the surprising number of countries going along with this.”

Sulayman snaps his fingers. “It's probably oil! Or uranium!” He points at Price. “Gotneska is their protector, right?”

“They just lost Caerlannach. Gotneska is now in a civil war. Why would they care?" Price rubs his chin. "Whatever it is, there has been little discussion about why countries should care.” He glances at the foreign newspapers he piled on the table. “Every representative in the Security Council could've jumped up, joined hands, and started singing.”

“It could be Fulgistan.”

Price tilts his head. “Why?”

Sulayman shrugs. “It's a socialist country. Either way, it's out of our hands. If the Iverican government tells us to kiss their ass, we will. If we have to shoot them dead, we will.” He smirks at Price. “If not, they could kick us out of this palace.”

Price snorts. “They will never dare, sir. So as long as the average Tagabay is too dim, the datus will have to stand in for the wretched millions.” 

“You know. The Caerlanni could still be an interesting trade partner.” Sulayman stands up, as another servant pulls back his chair to give him way.

“Or a diplomatic nightmare.” He clicks his tongue, taking one of the newspapers. “It's easy now. They barely started Deconstruction. Imagine dealing with each sovereign Caerlanni community individually, in the future.”

Edited November 13 by RalphTheLiar (see edit history)