Chapter 18
Those Who Pull the Strings
20th of Sixthmoon, 6 Charles 9
Vladovec, Kryskie Province, Republic of Slanoa
Root never had much of a head for politics, nor did he have much interest in watching the process play out, which was why he was wondering what purpose was being served by watching some five hundred men shouting at each other for hours on end.
The council chamber of the National Assembly was utter chaos. There was a reason protocols were so strict in Byrandia and they didn't have as many MPs to wrangle. How did the Slanoans manage to get anything done?
"Is it always like this, Root?" Anne whispered to him.
"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Root replied. "It's enough to make you miss the Vlatoskans."
"I would imagine a military dictatorship would appeal to a career soldier such as yourself, Colonel Maartens," Andrej Kopec the interpreter said. Surprisingly blunt, for a member of the diplomatic corps, he wasn't all that diplomatic. Root rather liked that about him.
"Oh, I'm all for civvie government," Root said. "It's just that when it comes to making decisions, I'd rather have people be more, well, decisive."
"Well then, you needn't worry, Colonel," Kopec said. He nodded to the chamber below. "What you're seeing is all theater. The outcome has been decided and preparations are already underway."
"Then what's the point of all this?" Root asked.
"A comfort, Colonel. The people need to feel that they have a voice. These politicians need to feel they have a voice as well or else they might just get it in their heads that they need to take more active steps to make a real difference. That could lead to problems for everyone. It may seem chaotic to look at it from the outside, but the inner workings of our government are a well-oiled machine, I can assure you."
Root had no doubt the gears were well-greased. Elected officials come and go, but the bureaucrats never change. From Root's experience, that didn't mean anything for efficiency. However, the bureaucrats could get things done when their asses were on the line.
Speaking of those elected officials that come and go, a skinny, bespectacled MP was shouting over the others with some twenty or so clustered around cheering him on.
"What's he going on about?" Root asked.
"That's Iosif Polinsky, the rising star of the Workers' Party," Kopec replied. "He has a knack for rabble-rousing. Right now he's ranting about the managerial class profiteering off a war economy, accusing the ruling coalition of manufacturing a crisis to exploit the working man, and so on and so forth. He's about due to be caught taking bribes, soliciting prostitutes or something of that sort."
It was naive of him to ask, but Root asked anyway.
"Has he actually done any of that stuff?"
"When the state needs a man to be guilty, we find the crime, Colonel."
Root knew there was something off about Kopec. If he was really a member of the diplomatic corps, that wasn't his only job. What other hat did he wear? Secret police? Clandestine service? Why not both?
While Root was wondering about what sort of fate Mr. Polinsky had to look forward to, a man entered the gallery, went up to Kopec and whispered something in his ear. Kopec nodded and motioned for the man to be dismissed.
Rising from his seat, Kopec said, "Sir Armand, Frau Kapitän, Colonel Maartens, it would seem that we have a situation. If you would, please come with me."
They got up and followed him out of the gallery, then out of the parliament building. A couple cars were waiting for them outside. They loaded in and drove for about twenty minutes to a different government building. Judging by the soldiers milling about, it would appear to be their war ministry.
They went in through a side entrance to bypass the regular screening process. Root found it rather remarkable that Kopec didn't keep any escorts for the foreign guests. Were the Slanoans always like this or was Kopec just that confident? Root then realized that there might actually be security on them, just kept at a distance. Not the sort to show their hand, were they?
They were led to what appeared to be the main war room. There was a large conference table in the center with a map of the world under glass. There were several bulletin boards on rolling stands with other maps and such, and a large projector screen on the back wall. A number of senior officers were seated at the table along with several civilian officials, with their aides close at hand. The Imperial liaison and a couple of his men were also there. A lot of bustling and chattering going on.
Kopec gestured to the man at the head of the table, saying, "Allow me to introduce our premier, Wladislas Dzupec."
Premier Dzupec was a grim-faced man with sunken eyes, whose sagging jowls accentuated what appeared to be a permanent frown. He was dragging on a cigarette and judging from the ashtray by him, he had already gone through nearly half a pack. He set down his cigarette and rose from his seat to deliver perfunctory handshakes to Sir Armand, Root and the others while Kopec introduced them.
There was even less ceremony for the other notables in attendance, such as the Minister of War Gheorge Mihaiescu, a slight man whose large bald head rested precariously atop his thin neck like an egg on a stick. He had thick glasses perched on his beaklike nose and a thick moustache that hid his mouth. He looked more like he would be in charge of an army of accountants than the armed forces of one of the major powers. After him were the military chiefs of staff and such, and of course the Imperial liaison, Brigadegeneral Nursultan Akimov. All those names and faces to remember... Root wasn't cut out to be a diplomat.
After a brief moment taken to acknowledge the new arrivals, the people in the room went right back to what they were doing. There were no open seats at the table, so Root and the others had to remain standing. It might've been taken as an insult, but more than half of the people in the room had to stand as well, so it wasn't like they were being uniquely excluded.
Kopec stayed by their side to interpret the proceedings.
"They are reviewing the current situation," he said. "The Palatinians have been making cross-border raids ever since King Seleuceus issued his declaration. We believe they're trying to draw us into their territory to use our men as human shields. They seem to think the Imperials will be less likely to burn their cities if our troops are in the vicinity. I don't think they appreciate the weight the Imperials place on human life."
"We weigh life quite heavily, Mr. Kopec," Captain Tsai said. "It is just that other matters weigh heavier, such as obedience."
"Then it's most fortunate our nation intends to obey His Imperial Majesty's will, Frau Kapitän."
It hadn't been that long since the King of Slanoa was pressured to abdicate the throne and the nation became a republic. Apparently Kopec wasn't so ardent a republican to mind having a monarch over him once more. Maybe he was just pragmatic.
Kopec then resumed his interpretation, saying, "Right now the Palatinians have been scattered by the Imperial bombardments and so they have been unable to properly assemble their forces. However, our spy planes have detected some disturbing activity south of the border."
The lights went out and the projector was started up to show aerial photographs with a watermark Root assumed was a top secret label. The resolution wasn't great, but it was plain to see a rather massive encampment with no real effort made to conceal it. Assuming each block of tents was a company-sized element, there had to be at least ten divisions.
"We have found the Tungese massing troops like so. This is around Pingtin, some fifty kilometers from the Kubla Pass going into Monggwo. We estimate that there are at least a quarter of a million troops with signs of more on the way. This is just one camp. There are three poised to move on Monggwo, another four south of Nurchin and three more around Soochian."
"That's damn near three million men," Root said. "How many people are the Tungese supposed to have in their army?"
"You're familiar with the Veracruz Convention, I trust, Colonel. Signatories are supposed to be restricted to active armed forces comprising no more than one percent of their population and reserves at no more than two percent. During peacetime, that is."
"And they're going to argue that it's wartime."
"Only there has been no declaration of war. Of course, should they win, there will be no one to hold them accountable for violating the Convention."
"The Tungese don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to winning wars," Root said. "Isn't that the reason they're the Four Kingdoms instead of the Seven?"
"More troops are coming into these camps every day, Colonel. We can't begin to imagine how such a force is going to be fed or equipped, but it could be that they just set them loose like beasts. We may well run out of bullets before they run out of men."
Did the Tungese really mean to resort to massive human wave tactics? What a stupid waste of lives. It would be one thing if they were on the defensive and acting out of desperation to stymie an invasion of the homeland or if they wanted to overwhelm a comparatively small patch of real estate, but they'd never make it halfway across the world like that. Slanoa and Gandoh made Monggwo and Nurchin their buffer states for this very reason. It wouldn't be a good time for the Mong or the Nurchins, though.
"Have the Tungese declared themselves for the Coalition?" Root asked.
"They haven't said a thing," Kopec replied, "and we don't expect them to. They're no doubt intending to launch a surprise attack, international law be damned."
International law was a damn joke anyway.
Root then asked, "How could they get this many troops together in so little time?"
"So little time? They've been building up these camps for nearly a month."
"A month? That would mean—"
"Yes, about as soon as the Imperials made their broadcast, the Tungese have been gearing for war. Given King Seleuceus' elusiveness, the Palatinians probably had been making plans since then, too."
"Our mission is more urgent than ever," Sir Armand said.
"Indeed so, Sir Armand," Kopec said. "Premier Dzupec is most interested in coordinating our response. You will be going to Gandoh next, yes? It will help to have you act as an intermediary. Our diplomatic situation with them is, shall we say, tense. I would not call us enemies outright, but any cooperation comes with teeth firmly clenched, as they say."
"We will be heading to Heiankyoh once matters have been settled here," Sir Armand replied.
"Things are firmly in hand, Sir Armand. You can leave the rest of the formalities to Mr. Saintjean."
Alexandre Saintjean was Byrandia's ambassador to Slanoa. He would have to take over things here anyway, so it might as well be sooner rather than later.
"Should I not speak with Premier Dzupec first?" Sir Armand asked. "And what about the vote of the National Assembly?"
"You needn't waste your time with the puppets, Sir Armand. I speak on behalf of those who pull the strings. There is no escaping this thing that has come to us, so we want to settle matters quickly in the interest of ushering in this new age. We have an understanding with our new masters and we welcome Byrandia as a partner in our labors."
"That is... good to hear," Sir Armand said somewhat hesitantly. "Still, in the interest of appearances, the forms should be observed."
"Yes, you do have a point," Kopec conceded. "We'll arrange for a meeting with Premier Dzupec after this briefing is concluded."
Sir Armand was handling things artfully, but Root didn't think he could hide his reservations. Sure, he'd heard about things like shadow power and the man behind the man, but he' never seen it so brazenly displayed. Were it not for the Imperials, would they have been more subtle? The threat they faced was severe enough to cast aside all pretense. Root wondered how these power-brokers intended to adapt to the new order. Maybe all this was nothing more than a big opportunity for them. Hopefully they were savvy enough to know their limits or this would end badly for them all.