A Change in the Castle

[Nentsia]

Zemaita, Kingdom of Nerysia

Some twenty old men rose from their seats simultaneously as the wooden, lavishly decorated door swung open. King Azirkas I, an old man of 81 years old now, stood in the door opening. His hairline was receding, the color was silver-white, and it was ever getting thinner, just as his once impressive full beard. The slender, pale old man, dressed in a simple dark blue royal court tunic carefully moved into the chamber where he held his monthly cabinet meetings.

The Nerysian cabinet, or Council of State, convened every week under the leadership of the Chancellor. Once a month, it would sit with the King and keep him informed over matters of state. The King and Chancellor held bilateral talks every week however. The current Chancellor, Grimoald Tolke, greeted the King. When Azirkas was seated, everyone else followed his example. There was a serene silence wherever Azirkas went, the kind of silence that is produced by a combination of awe, respect, mutual understanding, and fear.

Almost whispering, the King opened the meeting. But the King had a rather brief agenda this time. On the agenda was the position of Chancellor Tolke. Some of the old men in the room looked shocked, while others suppressed a smirk. Tolke’s face had turned into plate armour, revealing not even the slightest emotion.

‘‘As you all know, elections are to be held by the end of this year. A hundred seats to be filled by my hand, another hundred Church representatives, and 200 seats up for grabs to represent the nation, directly elected by the people… I expect that the Union of the Nerysian People together with the Fatherland Party will do well.’’

The UNP dominated Nerysian politics like no other. It ascribed to what it called ‘Nerysian Integralism’, fusing the ingredients that it considered the pillars of the Kingdom. The Realm, the Church, and the Nation were one indivisible triad in its view, and ought to be governed as such. The Fatherland Party took generally more liberal stances, but blended patriotism, monarchism and conservative liberalism.

The legal opposition in Nerysia was formed largely by the Golden Lion party, a bunch of xenophobes, reactionaries and racists whose core issue was the annexation of Dyrrheim. The others were the National-Liberal Party and the Constitutional Democratic Party. The Constitutional Democrats had consistently been the largest party for several years now, but the King had stuck to his UNP cabinets. Grimoald Tolke was a dinosaur in that respect, having spent 30 years in Nerysian politics on behalf of the UNP.

The staunch nationalist was falling out of favour however. ‘‘Chancellor Tolke,’’ the King continued. ‘‘The UNP has been declining for years now. The economy is still stagnant. Progress in foreign policy towards the WBU is too slow. The military modernization program is behind schedule. I think it is time that we carry on with a fresh figure, with new ideas and new approaches.’’

Everyone in the room looked down at his papers, while Chancellor Tolke could only nod in agreement to the King.

‘‘Who, if I may ask majesty, would have the honour of serving you after my term?’’ Tolke asked.

‘‘I have come to the conclusion, that it is time for a gesture towards our people. More than that I cannot say.’’

Shocked and confused, the ministers and secretaries returned to their ministries that day. They had to overcome two shocks. First that Chancellor Tolke had been sidelined, and secondly, that the King refused to tell them who would succeed him.

Tolke himself had taken the day off and retired to his summer mansion outside the capital. He had become a lonely man rather rapidly. In a few years, he had lost his wife, his daughter had died in a car crash, his son worked overseas as diplomat, and his brothers were all sick or living far away. Now with his political career finished, Tolke had nothing left to live for.

After several nights of heavy drinking, Chancellor Tolke submitted his letter of resignation to the King and retreated permanently to his summer residence, where the 76-year old began writing down his memoirs for future generations.

[Nentsia]

Clouds were rapidly gathering above the capital of the Nerysian Kingdom, forming a silver blanket over the city, as the streets slowly filled themselves with the corpses of bureaucrats and civil servants looking to get a lunch and a bit of fresh air. Most of all, they were looking to escape their bullish bosses and their suffocating offices, where a poisonous mixture of ego, hierarchy, cynicism and political narrow-mindedness held sway.

The news of the Chancellor’s sudden resignation arrived earlier that day with the morning newspapers. The papers close to the government merely reported it, citing no explanation for Tolke’s resignation other than mentioning poor economic results in the sideline.
The other newspapers and media, that hypocritically tried to uphold a semblance of political independence – a position they entirely owed to their slavish loyalty and sucking up to His Majesty’s Censors, and because they served as His Majesty’s alibi for his quasi-democratic pretensions – engaged in a good amount of fact-free speculation.

Some assumed Tolke was fired, others pointed to the approaching elections and his chronic inability to make himself liked, or to appear even human at all. The newspapers with the most pretentious names of all, going by names like the Zemaita General Journal and the National Herald, wrote about conspiratory power struggles taking place in the Castle, with the King acting as a supreme judge between the various factions. The dismissal of Tolke was just the latest assassination of one faction by another. The more fantastic the explanations, the more incredible the plots, the more dramatic the characters, the better.

However, while the newspapers devoured this fragment of news like hungry hyenas, and the civil servants escaped their over-heated offices during lunch break, and the King had withdrawn himself again to his Castle, the forces of Chancellor Tolke were quickly regrouping. While Tolke himself accepted that his career and his days were over, his loyal lieutenants had no intention of letting there watchful guardian vanish from the stage just like that.

Walcaud Giedrius was chief among them, Director General of the Chancery Staff. Unique about him was that he had no aristocratic or upper class background at all. He came from a working class family – if one could call it that. His mother died early, his father was a drunk. Giedrius found refuge in the church, with a priest who educated him, and financed his higher education. Giedrius, looking to escape his past and his memory, discovered his passion for literature, and seemed destined to become one of the country’s leading writers. One desire was however stronger within Giedrius than his passion for the imaginative, and that was raw power.

During his college years he devoted himself to the UNP youth wing, rejecting even the Ministry of Security’s request to become a spy for them to help infiltrate radical student circles. Such a student job would have required from him to quit the UNP and adopt the appearance of a Socialist. Giedrius preferred to openly flaunt his passion for the Party of Power, the forces of Conservation, rather than to pretend to be the opposite for the secret police. One of his friends however, Gaiseric Dubius, duly accepted the offer and earned himself a life-long career the secret organs of the state. Giedrius entered the UNP ranks, serving as PR specialist for various figures, later contributing to party publications, and eventually he became Tolke’s press officer. Tolke brought Giedrius with him to various ministries during his long career, and eventually appointed him as the chief of his staff at the Chancery.

With Tolke gone, Giedrius fully realized he was probably the first on the list to be marked for dismissal. Whoever would succeed Tolke would likely bring his own fixer to the position of Director General. Giedrius should be lucky if they found another job for him at some ministry where he could advise or command civil servants. Given his strong smell of the Ancien Regime, it was likely at some dark corner of the government where he couldn’t bother anyone, and no one bothered that he was there.

There was still time however to coordinate an effort to propel the right people into the position of Chancellor. Giedrius had spoken to Tolke that morning, and had quickly arranged a secret meeting with Rigunth Baltra, the Minister of Security; Lord Hincmar Birston, the chairman of the UNP; and Lord Berimund Audrius – speaker of the Parliament. These were influential people, with access to the King, influence over the country’s institutions, and above all they were loyal to Tolke. They were Tolke’s men. They agreed to meet for a walk through the woods just north of the capital. They could not be seen together, it would raise suspicions if such stories reached the King.

‘‘How is he, Tolke I mean?’’, asked Baltra upon seeing Giedrius waiting by his car at the edge of the forest.
‘‘I think he has reconciled himself to his fate. I think we should determine our strategy on how to proceed.’’

‘‘You want to become Chancellor,’’ Audrius remarked. Giedrius didn’t respond to such an accusation.
‘‘And you don’t?’’ replied Baltra to the Speaker of the Parliament.

‘‘Gentlemen, lets not go into that now. Walcaud is right. The King is considering replacing us -all- with a more liberal minded government. He is changing strategy, and he has decided to accommodate the liberal demands from the public. We must thwart this palace revolution.’’ Lord Birston always managed to quell a conflict if he spotted one within his party organization.

‘‘He will likely make a symbolic appointment before the elections to signal to the population that he is willing to compromise on certain issues.’’ Birston continued. ‘‘I think he is looking for an independent candidate with a somewhat liberal reputation.’’

‘‘Well that leaves only a few thousand potential candidates then,’’ Audrius said bitterly.

‘‘Sir Ricfried Dorotheus is his preferred candidate,’’ Birston then added with certainty. The others thought in silence about that suggestion. Dorotheus functioned as the supreme judge of the highest Royal Court. Everyone knew that the Nerysian judiciary was a bulwark of closet liberals, where ideals about justice and freedom still had some meaning. Highly college educated lawyers, from aristocratic backgrounds, flocked into the judiciary as a way of having a respectable career whilst not prostituting oneself to the narrow-minded atmosphere in the civil service, the collectivism of the military, or the shallow world of money and business.

‘‘Dorotheus would fire the entire cabinet and bring his own.’’ Giedrius then concluded. By cabinet he meant above all that he himself would be fired.

‘‘Question is, can we prevent his nomination? And if not, can we and should we block it?’’ Audrius wondered.

‘‘We could gradually undermine him. Starting today. Then we’ll see how long he lasts.’’ Baltra commented. ‘‘We shall see how long it takes before the King realizes his mistake.’’

That night, deep into the night, Giedrius and his wife were phoned awake. Due to the nature of his position, Giedrius was never inclined to ignore a telephone call – and certainly not if it occurred during the night. ‘‘Yes?’’ he said with a sleepy voice. It was an anonymous number calling him.

‘‘Rigunth Baltra here. Get up and get dressed. The Security Committee is having an emergency meeting. In the absence of a Chancellor, constitutionally, you are the acting head of our government. A car will come to pick you up.’’

‘‘What has happened?’’ Giedrius asked panicky.
‘‘Matters of state security are not to be discussed on the phone. I’ll expect you in fifteen minutes at my office.’’