The Kataylabinsk Imperium
Date: December 25th, 1927 C.E.
"Empress?" inquired the royal servant, Elena.
"Just a moment." replied the Empress. Elena departed, and the Empress continued to brush her long, flowing red hair. When she had finally made it acceptable, she took up the crown of the Imperium and placed it upon her head. She had never particularly liked it. It was far too heavy and gaudy for her taste, but she had to tacitly accept it, as it was what her people expected of her.
For one more day, anyway.
She strode out of the room in her gold and brown dress, and traveled with Elena through the halls of the Dyevlin, the official residence of the Imperial family. They arrived at a waiting ballroom, where the nobility of the Imperium had gathered in celebration of the traditional Day of Painting. On the twentieth birthday of the reigning Emperor or Empress (the prior was required to abdicate upon their oldest child's eighteenth birthday), their official portrait would be made and hung in the Hall of the Imperators just outside the throne room.
The nobility from all across the Imperium ate, drank and made merry at the feast prepared by the Imperial house for their honor, while the Empress posed on the balcony of the ballroom for an hour and a half for her portrait to be made. It was long and arduous, made ever more so by the anticipation. When it was finished, however, it was a sight to behold: demonstrating the Empress's great beauty and majesty. While she kept little stock in royal tradition, the sight pleased her: she might actually have to keep it.
When she emerged from the balcony, the Imperium nobility took notice, and all rose to bow to the Empress. The complete and utter duplicity of the gesture was obvious; the nobility knew all too well who was in charge and kept it that way by cutting short the reign of any one Imperator who might challenge their local authority. Her father had gone so far, they actually ordered him executed for "tyranny and abuse of the office of Emperor," resulting in her coronation at the unprecedented age of sixteen. While ordinarily the Empress might be irritated, at this particular instant she found it amusing.
"Nobles of the court, honored guests of the Imperial house." The Empress smiled broadly with the same artificiality they had given her, and she continued. "I have for you a special gift: a delicacy from the far south, called key lime pie." She clapped, and servants appeared from all sides bearing plates of the dessert and laying it before the nobility. "I invite you to taste the fruits of imperialism that the great and powerful Imperium has reaped."
The nobility seemed to greatly appreciate this gesture, digging into the dessert with complete and utter abandon. The Empress checked to see if everyone along the table had taken a bite, and announced with a smile that betrayed the malevolence within her, "I have made a slight adjustment I find I often prefer: the addition of almonds. I hope you enjoy it." She snapped her fingers.
There were many cries and shouting from the various tables as the doors on every side but the Empress's burst open, and a mob of people broke in, wielding weapons ranging from rifles to pitchforks. They carried with them flags stained crimson red, and waved these fiercely as they emerged into the room with a distinct order. Armed guards burst into the room from behind her, coalescing around the Empress in a defense formation. "We are here for your protection," the captain told her. "We must go quickly!"
"What is the meaning of this, Empress Ekaterina?" asked Lord Nykolai, one of the senior members of the nobility, rising from his seat.
"I have no need for protection." replied the Empress. She pushed the captain of the guard aside and strode out before them. For a few seconds in which it was silent as the grave, she reached up to the crown upon her head and threw it to the ground, where it cracked into a thousand pieces.
She announced, "The Imperium is dead. Long live the People's Republic." The assembled crowds of workers cheered, and gathered around her, pushing away the guards.
"We will fight you from every corner of the Imperium in a bloody civil war," challenged Lord Nykolai, pulling the sword from his scabbard. "You cannot do this, not as long as we are still alive."
"Exactly," replied the woman now known only as Ekaterina Velikaya. "Do hope my father forgives you in the afterlife."
The assembled nobility almost simultaneously convulsed in spasms, and the revolutionaries charged forward, firing guns and swinging weapons at those who were not already dead from cyanide poisoning. As if it were in a different world, the bell outside the palace rung.
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Date: December 25th, 1939 C.E.
Seven Days Ago"Empress?" inquired the premier's secretary, Elena. Ekaterina awoke from her nap in a comfortable chair to the sound of the palace bell.
"It's already three o'clock. They will be expecting you in fifteen minutes."
"How many times... have I asked you to cease calling me that?"
Elena covered her mouth in surprise. "I do greatly apologize, Premier." "I should have remembered by now."
"Very well." replied Premier Commissar Velikaya. "I will prepare."
She strode out of the room and through the Hall of the Imperators, pausing to smile at her portrait as she passed. Her younger self was prettier, certainly, but her present 32-year-old self retained all of its original poise and majesty.
In her dressing room she put on the military uniform and hat (emblazoned with the seal of the People's Republic, the eagle of Kataylabinsk with a hammer and sickle on its breast and a star above the heads) typical of her speeches. She tied her hair in a simple low ponytail to account for her hat. There was a little fluff and irregularity to her uniform on account of her gender and position, and her shoulders bore six stars as opposed to the usual maximum of five for generals, demonstrating her seniority as the head of the People's Army. She was preparing for the third quad-annual Day of the Revolution, where she would give a speech that would make certain her reelection on the 31st and inevitably shake the world. She carried with her a rolled-up purple and yellow flag.
As she walked out onto the same palace balcony to a podium very close to where she posed for her portrait, the assembled crowd in Dyevlin Square cheered with unparalleled enthusiasm and energy. She waved and smiled to her people, truly proud of the progress which she had achieved.
"Workers and peasants, members of all races, people of your Republic!" shouted Premier Velikaya, amplified yet further by her microphone and the installed sound system. A camera ran to the side, as her speech was transmitted across the nation and indeed the world by television as well as radio for the first time.
"On this glorious day twelve years ago, there was a nation called the Kataylabinsk Imperium. This nation was devoid of civil liberties, devoid of political freedoms, and devoid of equality for its noble people. This was a nation ruled not by its noble empress..." She paused a moment for effect, and there was evident laughter from the crowd. "... but by petty, constantly feuding nobles and capitalists, bent on gaining whatever they could for themselves regardless of how the people suffered." "This was a nation in a permanent state of decline, a nation predicted by Kalyrnan when he said that imperialism was the final stage of capitalism."
"The noble working people of this Imperium rose up on this day, and tore down the aristocracy and bourgeoisie of this backwards nation, and with the leadership of its new Premier, the first among equals, built a new and glorious republic!" The crowd cheered at an incredible volume.
"Since my accession to the leadership of this socialist republic twelve years ago, literacy has risen from seventy to ninety percent. Every Kataylan citizen has access to free public education and health care, so that not one of its people will be left behind. The average income across all professions has increased by forty percent, and with our revolutionary system of market socialism, workers across the People's Republic are reporting greater satisfaction than ever."
"I have met many people from other countries who ask me what the true value of the socialist system is, and why so many people are willing to defend it here and fight for it across the world. I have always answered them simply. We have created a place on this world where no person is ever oppressed by another person. A place where no person is discriminated against by any other on behalf of species or race or creed. A place where people can succeed by their own merits and not by whether or not they were born into the correct family. That is the reality that we as Kataylans believe in, and it is the reality that we will fight for, no matter the cost."
This declaration was met with the greatest cheer yet, and so Premier Ekaterina proceeded with the final part of the ceremony. She unrolled the purple and yellow flag of the Kataylabinsk Imperium, hung it over the balcony, and pulled out a simple match which she struck into flames. She lit the flag on fire, and let it fall to the empty space which had been cleared just below the balcony where its purple dye changed to the black of ash. Behind her, two guards raised on the palace flagpole the banner of the People's Republic, sparkling red and yellow in the sun as it rose.
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