Parliament Tower, Vanver, Cascadia
His hands gripped tight the marble railing, and it seemed all the world lay under his gaze. Below him untold numbers went about their lives, each one with hopes and aspirations, and each one suffocating under the weight of their peers. Packed like sardines into the claustrophobic streets of Vanver the throng suffered as one, and they looked to him for succor. The weight of the expectation was crushing. Year after year he felt the burden of their hope, and year after year he felt the agony of failure. How was it they loved him? How could any praise a man whose best efforts still fell hopelessly short? With a sigh Joseph Mannerheim leaned into the balconies railing.
It seemed every solution he’d reached was insufficient. The new housing projects he’d put to the last Prime Minister had helped, but soon enough there was nowhere to build. The breakthrough in hydroponics he’d funded had staved off mass starvation, but what was the point if all it meant was a shortage of everything else? The last situation reports were unequivocal. He wanted to rage, to scream, but time had long disabused him of his youthful fire. He regretted nothing that had been done, for it had been needed. He blamed nobody, for they had all given their best. Yet still, Cascadia was being crushed under her own weight. Her shining capital of Vanver was a city naturally constrained by geography, and yet even it had grown inconceivably large under the tide of refugees fleeing the UPC. The nation’s very core could bear no more.
Yet, he knew there was still hope. The people loved him, they loved him because even if their King had failed to save them today, they had faith that one day he could. This was a truth he could not deny, and if their trust and hope rested on his shoulders, he would not betray them. So it was for this reason he had come here today, to the highest reaches of the grand shining white tower that housed the Cascadian Parliament. Three years ago the might of Cascadia’s military had been entrusted to him in this place, and it was with that strength he would finally put the nation’s greatest struggle to rest. If the streets had become cramped, the houses full, more space would simply have to be made.
The telltale creaking of double doors sounded from the lavish room behind him and stirred Joseph from his rumination. Turning in time to see the Prime Minister entering alongside a number of cabinet members and generals Joseph could only smile, the time had finally arrived. Dusting off his grey jacket the King walked in from the balcony to meet them, loosely pulling the outcrops glass door shut behind him. Outstretching his hand Joseph greeted the party, “Prime Minister Schmidt, ministers of the cabinet, it has been far too long.”
Meeting his old friend’s smile Schmidt returned the gesture and shook the Kings hand, “Your majesty, I am loathe to say I must agree. These times have been trying for all of us though, and as much as we dislike it, I fear social gatherings have taken a backseat… Speaking of, shall we be seated? I have a feeling this will be a long meeting to be on our feet.”
With a chuckle Joseph gestured to the long table at the room’s center, waiting until the assembled had each found a place before taking his own at the tables head. With a cough to clear his throat he started, “Gentlemen, while I trust we all have a reasonable idea of why we’ve meet here today I feel it best to recap. One week ago an internal report was issued by our Ministry of Justice in collaboration with the Ministry of Domestic Affairs, and needless to say its contents were troubling. As I’m sure we’ve all read, the report—citing scarcity and overpopulation as the cause—predicted that while the government remains poplar, we stand one unexpected shortage away from mass rioting. Such riots, if they were to occur, have been predicted to start in the new developments and among the refugee non-citizens.”
Perking up from the left row of chairs one of the ministers spoke, “If they say it would start among the non-citizens, why should we be concerned? The ingrates who incite it, if it happens at all, can just be deported.”
Casting a cold glare at minister for their interruption Joseph replied, “Because, minister, if we were to crack down upon this theoretical riot, we would lose the confidence of the Plainers. If that happened our image will be tarnished irrevocably in their eyes, and we would risk open insurrection. You mustn’t forget they compromise nearly a quarter of our population these days… Besides, this report merely points toward the potential symptoms of a larger issue; we’ve run out of room. The UPC has failed, and those who’ve sought refuge here are like to stay here. They won’t leave, they can’t leave, and now we have nowhere to put them. Save hollowing out the mountains there is only one solution to that, we finally act on the Reclamation Plan.”
At that the room fell totally silent, and not even the rhythmic tapping of Schmidts pen could be heard any longer. The first one to speak was the Minister of Justice, the very individual who’d penned the report, “Your majesty, are you certain that’s wise? I cannot deny the urgency, nor can I refute your conclusion, but the militaries attention is still concentrated on the pacific. I’m no general but I imagine it would take months to prepare for Reclamation.”
At that Schmidt nodded, “He isn’t wrong your majesty, though I must presume you know that, given it was you who insisted that we prepare for further pacific campaigns. Tell us, why the change of heart?”
With a scratch of his beard and a frown of consternation Joseph turned to the Prime Minister, “I was aware of the issues at home when I set that policy, but it is to my shame I underestimated their extent. This latest report is proof of that. Still, this may be a blessing in disguise, after all if it takes months to reposition those are months we have to plan and recruit. The Plainers may not be citizens yet, but if we sell this campaign as an action to drive out to Grogar we may yet be able to make them as loyal as any natural born Cascadian and provide them homes in one blow.”
Looking up for the first time in the meeting the Defense minister, Tristan Bishop spoke, “His majesty speaks true, we would have needed that time anyway. While I understand some of you may have concerns about launching a hostile action so close to our own soil, what other solutions can you offer?”
A few grumbled, Schmidt nodded, but there was no reply. Smiling Joseph stood, “So are we in agreement? That the Reclamation Plan, to seize Northern California by force, is the best solution to our dilemma?”
Around the room ayes both enthusiastic and begrudging sounded, and Cascadia set its pace once more to the drums of war.
