II. An Account of the Changing Fortunes of Marsilamat Indari
July 15, 2024
In the local language, the King’s residence was known as the Sedera-Dasarhen , the “Chief’s Palace”. President Indari’s weekly meetings with King Yendrin necessitated his motorcade departing the city center and driving for 45 minutes eastward, nearly to the city limits. From the Grand Council chambers downtown, Marsilamat’s line of cars would go through the Financial District first, then the Arts Quarter, and finally into the sprawling Nelvil’s Plain neighborhood. Here, mansions of the wealthiest Hlenderians stood behind tall fences and gates, but were themselves mere dots between vast tracts of public land. Mostly left wild, the patches of woods and occasional landscaped park served to increase the privacy between the ultra-rich families of Pelachis, and especially between His Majesty and the common man.
The motorcade left its lights on, but turned off its sirens as it drove through Nelvil’s Plain. Marsilamat himself did not live in this glitzy neighborhood; the President’s Manor was located across town, as was the modest estate he kept with Ervamea before his election. This, of course, was not to mention the two houses the Indaris kept in Isherrith; Marse’s own property, located ten minutes up the road from his childhood home on the banks of the Isher River, and the Kwaran residence in which he stayed with Erva when visiting family.
Briefly, the spruce and pine trees by the side of the road cleared, treating the drivers and passengers in the motorcade to a view of Lake Pela and the cityscape beyond. The Chief’s Palace, a structure made of stone and pine, was visible along the lakeshore before disappearing back behind trees. Soon enough, though, President Indari’s entourage arrived at the gates of the King’s residence.
It was 9:30am, and the sun had finally risen above the horizon. The midwinter’s snow glittered as it caught the sunlight. After a short delay, the property gates opened and the President’s car continued on its way. The paved road to the Chief’s Palace passed through manicured forest, but the trees eventually cleared away except for precisely trimmed, snow-covered fir in a neat line on either side.
The motorcade arrived in the mansion’s courtyard, making a semi-circle so that Marse’s door would open in front of the palace’s veranda. Marse’s chief-of-staff, sitting next to him in the limousine, handed him a lanyard with the Chief’s Palace logo and a large “ܕܸܢܲܬܹ”, for “Dinatē” - “President”.
The Palace was built on a tall foundation and, like most historical buildings, was done in the classic Hlenderian longhouse style. Marse, his chief-of-staff, and a couple bodyguards hustled up the stairs. At the top, a Palace guard stood ready to open the door. He wore a heavy fur coat over his dress uniform.
Marsilamat nodded to him and the guard swung the door open. Even after nearly 4 years in office, Marse still got confused in the corridors of this hulking building. He passed five doors before his chief-of-staff gently reminded him that he should have taken the third. Turning around with a sigh, Marse finally got to the King’s office.
Goshen Charrith, the King’s chamberlain, sat at a desk in the office’s antechamber.
“Honored President,” he said in a monotone. On their first meeting, Marsilamat thought that Goshen was being sarcastic when he said this. After two years, he understood that it was just the way he spoke. Now, after four years, he was beginning to detect sarcasm again.
“Mr. Charrith,” Marse said with a nod. Goshen stood and walked to the office door.
“His Majesty will see you now.” he said, opening it.
King Yendrin sat at his desk, looking at paperwork, with reading glasses perched on his nose. When he wasn’t reading, His Majesty wore the glasses around his neck on a chain like an elderly woman. The King’s daughter, Councilor Yendrina Kwarrōth, of the Kwari People’s Party, sat in a chair opposite her father. Behind them both, massive floor-to-ceiling windows treated the entering President to a dazzling view of the frozen Lake Pela. At the far end of the lake, ice-fishing shacks belonging to the city’s bold and beautiful sat, chimneys smoking.
Marse bowed briefly upon entering the King’s presence, and then sat in a chair next to Yendrina. His chief-of-staff, as well as Goshen, stood in the back of the room near the door.
“My Chief,” Marse said.
“Honored President,” the King replied. He looked up from his paperwork and gazed at Marsilamat for a moment, as if in thought. Then, he continued: “You must get your party members under control.”
Marse cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, sir?”
“Don’t tell me you have already forgotten about that colossal mess out in Thanelin, Mr. Indari.”
“Your Majesty, I believe that the Chief Litigator there made clear that no one involved in that scuffle was a member of the Traditionalist Kwarim.”
“I wouldn’t call it a scuffle,” Yendrina scoffed. “Someone got shot.”
Marse glared at her, a sudden intruder in this meeting. Yendrina smirked in response.
“It’s going to be a long winter ahead, Mr. Indari,” the King continued. “Violence, of any kind, during our census is a smear on our entire nation. We are in the International Forum now!”
Marse grit his teeth, remembering how hard he fought his own party members in the Council on behalf of the King, all to satisfy his desire to get into the IF. And Yendrina continued to stare at him.
“You don’t have to admit it to me,” the King said. “But just admit it to yourself, and tighten their leashes. I was a TK man for many years, before my election.”
The King was fond of recollecting those years he spent in the Traditionalist Kwarim, Marse observed. But he seemed to have forgotten how his erstwhile party, and its paramilitary’s code of silence, operated.
“Your Majesty,” Marse said. “May I ask what brings us the pleasure of Councilor Kwarrōth’s attendance in this meeting?”
The King’s face lit up in the manner of a father adoring his only daughter.
“Honored President, over these four years you’ve come to know my… fervent wishes for the modernizing of the Commonwealth,” he began. “It’s not always been easy, but it’s been, ah – worthwhile!”
King Yendrin smiled as he removed his reading glasses from his face and let them dangle below his chin.
“Yes, my Chief, it has been worthwhile.” Marse lied.
“But you have seen the… graft, the corruption that has taken hold amongst some of our nation’s Councilors.”
“Your Majesty, you know that my government handles such cases whenever they arise.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Marse could see Yendrina stifle a laugh.
The King paused briefly, as if he thought of a witty remark about Marse’s party but thought better of it.
“Mr. Indari, I fear that even the Traditionalist Kwarim’s vigilant handling of this issue cannot stop the creeping wave of self-enrichment by itself.”
He is building to something, Marsilamat thought. “What would you have me do, my Chief?”
Yendrin turned to his daughter. “A special committee must be appointed by the Council to address this issue. Yendrina is well-acquainted of my opinion, and concurs with me.”
“That is correct,” Yendrina said. A thread of black hair poked out from her red silk headscarf.
“You would like me to appoint Councilor Kwarrōth to this ‘anti-corruption committee’, my Chief?”
“I would like her to be the Chair.”
Marse sighed. Yendrina was of a different party, and thus could not be controlled. “Your Majesty – and with complete respect to you, Councilor Kwarrōth - I believe Councilor Bolidanu of Norrith’s 2nd District would be the best fit for Chair, considering his history as Chief Litigator there.”
“As I said, Honored President, my daughter is closely aware of my feelings on this issue.”
Marsilamat thought for a moment. A typical committee had 13 members. Four had to go to the United Vrotrim, that was a given. And five to the opposition: two to the Liberals, one to the Workers Party, and one for each Mūni party. That meant four for the Kwari parties. Yendrina could be the member from the People’s Party, which left three for Marse’s Traditionalist Kwarim. If he appointed some allies from the United Vrotrim, he could ensure that Yendrina could not pry too deeply in the TK’s affairs.
“I understand. I don’t see why we can’t appoint Councilor Kwarrōth as chair.“
Yendrina, who surely was calculating her own political arithmetic in her head, smiled and stood.
“I will let you gentlemen finish your meeting. I look forward to working with you, Honored President.“
Yendrina, educated overseas in her youth, stuck out her hand to shake in the foreign style. Marse gently grasped it and moved his arm. Immediately, President Indari began thinking of ways to detooth this anti-corruption initiative. Simultaneously, Councilor Yendrina Kwarrōth thought of ways to give it fangs.