Pelachis, Capital Province
April 23, 2024
Kirubim-araru still had not gotten used to driving, though it had been eight years since he learned. Part of this could probably be chalked up to having been an adult, freshly moved to Pelachis, when he got his license, and not an eager teen like most Hlenderians. After all, there was little need growing up for Kiru to drive anything bigger than a four-wheeler, and little chance to run into anything besides the broad side of a muskox. In the city, though, even his small sedan seemed like a deadly weapon ready to maul a pedestrian.
The street design of this city didn’t help. He lived in the most central, oldest part of Pelachis, a few blocks from the Grand Council Chambers. Here, the narrow streets and alleys were winding and bumpy, a relic of the capital’s medieval history, and cars were parked where ever there was space – half on the sidewalk, half in the road, or double parked with hazard lights on. The buildings in the center of Pelachis were a hodgepodge of old and new; office buildings of glass and steel stood next to traditional longhouses of brick and timber divided into apartments.
Driving was further complicated by the fact that today was Saint Heldin’s Day, a Vrotri holiday that meant Hlenderians of that ancestry were walking the streets, some with bags of produce and meat for dinner later, others with the traditional tree branches to or from worship services, and still others just enjoying the day. In Hlandris Province, it had just snowed for the first time this season – Kiru’s sister had texted him that morning mentioning it. Here, in the northwest of the country, it was a warm fall day, and people were taking advantage of the weather.
Traffic was stopped now at the corner of 1st and Barusi Streets. A parade slowly made its way down 1st, towards the large Vrotri temple a half mile down the road. Kiru sighed, and rolled the window of his sedan down. He craned his head out the window to get a better look, and saw a float decorated in autumn colors slowly crawl by.
Saint Heldin was one of the peculiar saints that only the Vrotrim seemed to care about. His first year on the Council, after seeing a Saint Heldin’s Day parade, Kiru asked his uncle – a spiritual man – about it, and was told that Heldin was not even a Hlenderian, but some foreign, syncretic idol embraced by the Vrotrim and given a crudely-translated local name. “That people”, his uncle said, “have always been swayed by strange religion.”
Kiru shook his head in disapproval and brought it back inside the car. He texted his legislative caucus: “Stuck in traffic. Heldin parade”. In a few minutes, though, the parade passed and traffic began to move again. Two blocks ahead, Kiru could see the Grand Council Chambers. Built in the Hlenderian vernacular style, the Chambers looked like the old buildings that remained in the city center. Meant to resemble a traditional Hlenderian longhouse, the Chambers were as long as a city block, though narrow in width. The main construction material were gray granite stones, sourced locally, but most were covered by a wide, sloping wooden roof supported with carved spruce buttresses.
When Kiru made it to the legislature a few minutes later, he pulled his sedan into the underground parking garage reserved for legislators and staff. As he exited his car and walked to the elevator, Kirubim checked his clothing – traditional Mūni garb, of course. Fashion in the Chambers was split largely on ideological lines, with the conservative Kwari and all the Mūni legislators wearing traditional clothes and the members of the United Vrotrim and Liberal Party dressed in foreign “business suits”.
The elevator dinged and Kiru was in the Chamber Lobby. There were fewer “journos” than usual, considering the holiday. Two reporters made their way towards Kiru as he headed for the Council floor.
“Pelachis Observer. Councillor Sarachit, what is your opinion on the International Forum’s move to create an anti-poaching body?” one asked.
Kirubim-araru cleared his throat and brought the talking points disseminated by the Mūni People’s Front leadership to the front of his mind.
“We must take every effort to conserve our nation’s environment and fauna. But we also must preserve the traditional way of life of my people, including the whaling that is essential to the livelihoods of coastal Mūnim. And the customary laws of Hlenderia’s heartland need to be respected. Excuse me,” Kiru said, and walked towards the Council floor.
Opening the door to the legislature proper, he saw about seventy people seated for the day’s session. Most of United Vrotrim, of course, was missing except for a few backbenchers. Kiru made his way to his seat on the right side of the chamber, near the middle of the slim column of seats assigned to the MPF. His seat location, like most in the body, corresponded to his political importance in his party: not too important, but senior enough to avoid being relegated to the nosebleed seats.
The “observation deck”, as it was facetiously known by the Councillors, was mostly empty, reflecting the public’s desire to enjoy one of the few nice days left this fall. The public’s gallery was a balcony suspended by carved columns above the semitheater on which legislators sat. At the podium on the floor stood President Marsilamat Indari, answering questions from the Council’s right-wing about the IF’s aforementioned anti-poaching motions.
Presently, Indari was looking down with a sly smirk as a member of his own Traditionalist Kwarim party grilled him, calling the IF’s proposals “dangerous” to the Kwari economy. In a way, Kiru pitied the President, who was often forced to defend the King’s “modernizing” agenda, despite opposition from even his own party.
The TK member returned to her seat now, and the speaker called on Baaru-tanti[1] Illabil, one of the Council’s great firebrands and a leading member of the fiercely traditional United Southeastern Mūni Bands. The USMB was an ally of Kiru’s own Mūni People’s Front but sat even further to their right, demanding an immediate repudiation of all foreign treaties, an expansion of Mūni-designated territory, and a return to traditional governance.
Councillor Illabil got up from his seat and strode to the podium facing President Indari. His clothes, unlike those of the more northern Mūnim, were undyed from a lack of colored plants in the tundra, and were made from a mixture of muskox and bear skins. On his right shoulder was a small but finely-tanned cape made of skin from a ringed seal, and around his neck and broad shoulders he wore a large necklace made from a mixture of animal and human bones, the latter being those of honored relatives.
Kiru was always amazed to see how the southeastern Mūnim dressed, and wondered how warm Baaru-tanti must be under all those animal skins. When Illabil reached the podium, he put his hands on its wooden top and leaned into the microphone. His jewelry rustled, and was audible in the speakers on the room’s ceiling.
“Honored President,” Illabil began with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “when your government, facing its inability to whip votes from your own party, united with the Liberal opposition to force our Commonwealth to join the International Forum, I expected that it would lead to further assaults against the traditional Hlenderian way of life;”
Scattered applause came from the USMB seats to Kiru’s right. He was impressed, as he had been these past eight years, of Illabil’s ability to launch immediately into a sort of spoken polemic.
“But I did not expect such assaults to come so quickly, or in such force. The nations of the world who hold power in the International Forum pollute our air and warm the Southern Sea. One of my constitutents told me that seal hunts now take his band’s boats nearly to the southern ice shelves. Meanwhile,”
Councillors of both Mūni parties were now leaning forward in their seats.
“These same nations wax poetic about the need to reduce ‘poaching’. As if we Mūnim are incapable of managing our own animal sources! Ambassador Releth said that he thought this was ‘necessary’, and only gestured vaguely at protecting the sacred rights of my people to hunt their land and fish their seas without government interference. Honored President, wilt thou -”
The speaker interjected. “Councillor Illabil, use of the informal is not -”
“Honored President, will you commit to ensuring this proposed IF poaching body does not infringe on the rights of Mūnim?”
The USMB and MPF legislators clapped; Kiru thought the question got at the heart of the hypocrisy inherent to this issue. As for Illabil’s use of the informal, this was part of the latest political game on the Grand Council: since MPF Councillor Saharu-madis Darsi had been suspended for using the informal, other Mūnim would regularly do the same, only to correct themselves or retract at the last minute.
For his part, if the grilling was getting to President Indari, he didn’t show it. He kept the same knowing smirk on his face that he had had for most of the morning.
“Councillor Illabil, I would like to remind you that we are discussing a body which has yet to be voted on, let alone ratified by our Commonwealth, let alone convened! The government has communicated to Ambassador Releth and the IF at large our deep concern with Mūni harvest rights on land and in the Southern Sea.”
Councillors from the Liberal Party and the centrist Kwari People’s Party applauded. Kirubim-araru heard a door click in the public gallery above, and a man dressed in the distinctive garb of the southeastern Mūnim enter. He thought, for a moment, that he resembled the man he had seen nine days ago in Alpumachir, but second-guessed himself. The man took a seat in the gallery and glanced at Illabil, still at the podium, and then at Kiru himself.
“Honored President,” Illabil replied, “The Mūni people do not want concern from this government, they want guarantees! We must not abdicate the Commonwealth’s sovereignty on this issue!”
“Councillor Illabil, I have answered your question; when the IF proceeds to a vote on this issue I will keep this body informed of further developments.”
“The Speaker calls Councillor Kwarrōth to the floor,” the Speaker said, referring to the King’s daughter, a legislator sitting in his old seat and representing the Kwari People’s Party. Illabil looked at President Indari with steely eyes and then returned to his desk.
Orca-Killer ↩︎