The Sun Sets on the Winter Snow

Roleplay Library
1

1035 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
October 31st, 12017

The streets of Atlaerskoiy was shrouded in a gloomy fog, illuminated yellow with the streetlamps. Children huddled below, daring each other to lick the lamppost, or tease the even gloomier looking building which stayed that way even in perfectly good weather.

In that building hung a painting called Grim Victory. It depicts a scene in 1574, when the House of Stewart defeated the combined forces of the House of MacHenry and the House of Aleksands at the Fields of Cowrillia. The victorious House of Stewart stood over its enemies, but the faces were bloodstained and sullen; the flag which they carried were in tatters and soaked in blood.

Such grimness pervaded through Atlaerskoiy following the conclusion of the Atlantian War. The Atlae Isles had gained and lost much in that war, it almost seemed Pyrrhic.

The economy had crashed, agricultural and industrial assets had been lost in the war and in hurricanes, and the next winter was predicted to be one of the coldest in recent times.

But the country was pulling through. Stephen Yang had rallied the victory party to pass a recovery plan which planned on rebuilding much of the infrastructure that was destroyed that year. Growth seemed inevitable, if far off.

However, that is not what came to mind when one man in a suit came to Senator McLocke’s office with a briefcase and a big, big plan.

2

It is not a secret that the Atlae Isles has a Northern and a Southern part.

It is also not a secret that there is a friendly rivalry between the North and South.

The North had more traditional and historical sites, but the South had more tourists with good weather, more money, and more people than in the North.

Still, the capital was in Atlaerskoiy, the traditional Northern city, and with a few minor blips here and there, the South had basically followed along.

However, the two parts had two distinct cultures, which was seen as a threat to lawmakers in the North. The Southern Provincial Assembly was always on their mind.

Senator McLocke was one of those lawmakers.
[hr]1100 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, the Atlae Isles
October 31st, 12017

The gavel sounded. “The Legislature is now in session.”

Senator McLocke stood. “I’d like to put something for the Senate’s concern.”

This was not an unusual occurrence. Lawmakers always put something for the Legislature to consider.

“The Chair recognizes the Honorable Senator McLocke’s request,” the Speaker responded, dully. “and considers it granted.”

“Thank you, Speaker.” Senator McLocke picked up and shuffled around a few pieces of paper. “I have brought forth a bill.”

A murmur went through the crowd. What was it this time?

"The Atlaesian Military Might Ordinance Act of 12017. Category: International Security - A bill to improve world security or national security thereof by boosting police and military budgets.

"Section 1. This bill may be cited as “the Atlaesian Military Might Ordinance Act of 12017,” or the “AMMO Act-”

The gavel sounded. “Upon request by the Chairman of the Committee of Armed Services, the reading has been put on hold. Mrs. Committee Chairman, you have the floor.” The Speaker interrupted, with still no interest or emotion in his voice.

“Thank you, Speaker.” Senator Julia Istrapoli replied. “I question the order of this. I and my Committee have not been noti-”

“Mister Speaker, if I may interrupt,” Senator McLocke interrupted. "I am perfectly within the bounds of Section V of the Legislative Proceedings. It does not say I cannot forgo the committee for the Assembly if the Senator was in good standing.

Senator Istrapoli scowled at McLocke, but did not argue. It was in the Legislative Proceedings after all.

The reading continued for a while, until the Speaker dismissed the Senate for lunch. But for Senator McLocke, this was the first piece to his goal coming together.

3

It is not a secret that the military policies of the two Atlaes are very different.

It is also not a secret that this had been displayed in the wars that Atlae was in.

The North relied on a more land-based approach, almost retaining its tradition of fighting on the ground, but always with a bit of Sky Guard and Royal Navy in between. You could see this strategy with the battles of Fort Michaels, Rocheste, and other mostly land battles. There was almost a form of pride in taking your gun and fighting bravely.

The South, however, was much different. Its small islands did not make good army bases, so its military strategy evolved out of necessity - to deal with pirates back in the day, a ‘navy’ was developed to dispatch them. This eventually evolved into the very sleek ships they have now, often accompanied by its Sky Guard. This could be seen in dispatching the threat at Neuatt.

Foreign critics often lauded the South for its modern approach to military strategy, and were all too often bemused at what they thought was people in the frigid North taking their guns and rushing to their deaths for glory.

Most Northern veterans and politicians were pretty envious of this fact, and consciously or unconsciously, looked for every opportunity to defund the Royal Navy and Sky Guard, methods of fighting they described as “unconventional” and “uncouth.”

Senator McLocke was one of those lawmakers.
[hr]1330 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, the Atlae Isles
October 31st, 12017

“So let me get this straight.” Senator Bruce Hamilton said incredulously. “You want to take the people who buy guns and put them in the Army Reserve?”

“Yes.” Senator McLocke replied bluntly. After a moment, he added, “Excluding people with hunting permits, of course.”

This was a nice loophole for McLocke and all of his friends. Hunting permits were notoriously hard to get, and infamous for being a status indicator.

“And we need this why?” asked Senator Istrapoli.

“Simple. We need to revitalize the military after its lackluster response to the Kerlingtonians. Additionally, it’ll boost the defense sector, which will help grow the economy.”

After a moment’s pause, a member of the Southern delegation stood up. “So this is about Army recruitment?”

“Yes.”

“Is there currently taxpayer funding towards army recruitment?”

“Yes.”

“Is it currently effective?”

“It’s working for now, but I anticipate that the AMMO Act will increase our numbers more effectively.” Senator McLocke looked up. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you promise to redistribute the taxpayer funding focused on Army recruitment towards, I don’t know, the Royal Navy and Sky Guard?”

Senator McLocke looked almost absolutely livid. “Yes,” he choked out.

The face of the Southern Senator looked almost victorious.
[hr]0944 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, the Atlae Isles
November 1st, 12017

“I move the AMMO Act to a vote.” McLocke said almost immediately after the Legislature was in session.

“But we’ve only discussed it for a day!” Istrapoli objected.

The Senator walked over to the desk and held up the proposed AMMO Act. For something so consequential, it was rather short.

“For something this size, you should have had enough time to read it, no?”

Senator Julia Istrapoli blushed. “Still not enough discussion to vote on it!”

“I see no reason to delay the vote any longer,” McLocke continued. “This will bring urgent reform that our country needs right now. In fact-”

At this point, the lights went out. All of Atlaerskoiy was dark. The electric utilities later blamed this on ice on the aging electric infrastructure, but to McLocke, it was a conveniently placed escape. Privately, he would describe it as fate.

Obviously, McLocke seized the opportunity. He jumped onto the stage where the bill was and with the dim sliver of light from the window, he searched.

Where was it…Section 20…21…22!

Hands fidgeting, he quickly took out a black permanent marker, removing the cap. In one smooth motion, he struck out Section 22.

What was Section 22? It was the section that McLocke had agreed to the previous day, that taxpayer funds toward Army recruitment would be redirected to the Royal Navy and Sky Guard. He could not have that happen.

It was done all in time too, for by the time he had gotten off the stage, someone had gotten a candle lit, illuminating the Legislature’s chambers. Two more people came equipped with flashlights.

“Is everyone alright?” asked the Sergeant-at-arms.

“I’m present and all accounted for,” replied McLocke.

Julia Istrapoli looked at him. “Weren’t you just over there?” She pointed to the section near the stage but on the other side.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” McLocke said coolly. “In any case, we’d better wrap this up. Shall we start the vote, Speaker?”

The Speaker sighed. “The AMMO Act is now at vote. Please vote Aye, Nay, or Abstain.”

As expected, Istrapoli and others were a hard no. McLocke and his supporters were a hard yes.

Stephen Markson, the Prime Minister, put his head in his hands. He was a No.

In the end, it passed by one vote due to some last-minute switches made by Southern Senators, reportedly because of the Navy funds.

McLocke smiled. It had only just begun.

4

The Southern Atlae Isles observes an ethnic holiday annually, resetting the Lunar Calendar used before Atlaesian colonization in the 16th century. It promotes Southern culture, values, and traditions with the festivities.

The North, however, thought of this as destabilizing. It promoted the idea of Southern independence, they warned. They were quite uneasy with the public demonstrations and the possible political ramifications of letting them proceed.

Perhaps their concerns were right. Every year, an outspoken group of activists petitioned celebrators of the holiday to secede from the Atlae Isles, citing their belief that the South provided far too much for far too little.

Of course, this was not that much. But the North saw the trend that signatures were increasing every year as a threat. And every year, northern Atlaesian media would claim a national divide over the holiday.

There were constant threats to cancel or even outright ban the celebration of the holiday by Northern lawmakers, citing the divisiveness of the holiday, reasoning that if it were to be stopped, the Atlae Isles would be more united.

The South called these claims unfounded, since it was just an ethnic and arguably worldwide holiday, with millions of people observing it all over the world. They accused these lawmakers of trying to take away their culture and to homogenize the Atlae Isles.

And of course, one of those lawmakers that the South had criticized was Senator McLocke.
[hr]0930 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 11th, 12018

McLocke took the stand.

Addressing the Southern delegates, he said, “Happy Lunar New Year for those observing it,” nodding towards them.

The Southern delegation sat there still. They did not like McLocke, not only because of his previous rhetoric against the South, but they were pretty angry that the amendment on the AMMO Act that they were promised in exchange to help pass was not included in the final law. They were still kind of pissed about the betrayal.

“I’d like to note the noble tradition of the Southern peoples for many years to celebrate their culture uninterrupted,” McLocke continued. “But the recent divides in our country the past few years must be addressed.”

The Northern delegates looked more and more intrigued. The Southern delegates sat there, not moving.

“I have discussed this with the Cultural Affairs Committee,” McLocke confirmed, referencing a committee ridiculed of being an all-Northern, no-Southern delegates. “And they agree the appropriate approach would be to limit the amount of public demonstrations for the holiday. After all, a holiday loses its meaning when it is openly celebrated and commercialized. The best place to celebrate is in the home.”

The Southern delegation looked absolutely livid. After all, they were sitting there being told how to celebrate their ethnic holiday. How dare this Northerner tell them how they should organize their affairs?

McLocke continued. “Over the last few weeks, the Committee and I have drafted a resolution to solve this problem for the sake of unity. Mr. Speaker, I now introduce the proposal to the floor.”

The Speaker nodded dully. “Acknowledged. I now open the floor for commentary.”

A member at the farthest end at the Southern side of the chamber jumped up. “Mr. Speaker and my colleagues in the Senate, this is an outrage! Why is our right to celebrate our holiday - one that has existed for millennia before becoming part of the Atlae Isles and is celebrated by many internationally - being infringed upon? My colleague says it is for unity. But see for what it really is. This is an attack on the Southern way of life, to take away their culture and traditions. What form of unity threatens to alienate more than half of the population?”

“One where it already has,” snarled McLocke. “As it has been drafted in the committee and the only argument is against the principle, I move this to a vote.”

The Speaker sighed. “The Resolution is now at vote.”

Now, it’s worth noting that how the Atlaesian Legislature works. It’s split up into two houses: Congress (the lower house, composed of Congressmen) and Parliament (the upper house, composed of Senators). The Congress is a representative group, so currently it’s filled of Southerners. Parliament, on the other hand, is different.

Parliament is supposed to be one senator per island. But with an archipelago like the Atlae Isles, that poses a problem. Does an uninhabited outcrop of rock in the middle of the sea get the same representation as a large island with thousands of people on it?

So then the district system was developed. Small islands were assimilated into districts near larger islands. But…

To disadvantage the Southerners, they drew the districts so as to group as many islands together as possible to diminish their representation. So obviously the Northerners outnumber the Southerners in Parliament.

Now an obscure rule in the Legislative Procedures says that if a bill or proposal in either house reach a 2/3 majority, it can go straight to the Executive without consultation from the other house. A vote from the other house only makes it veto-proof. McLocke chose not to put it through Congress.

And in the end, McLocke got his votes. And now it was up to the President to decide.

5

Lunar New Year celebrations are quite extravagant.

Fireworks shows, parades, concerts, dances, charity events, opening ceremonies, TV entertainment and sponsored advertisements, you name it, they most likely have it.

And all this cost money. Aside from corporate sponsorships and donations, much of it was taxpayer funded.

And Southerners liked it. They were actually more fond of spending money on Lunar New Year celebrations than they were for funding the Army.

Northerners, on the other hand, hated it. They were obviously envious of the extravagance and opulence being thrown around for this bonanza.

They found it counter-intuitive to financial sense, and obviously saw celebrating a life before Atlaesian colonization as a threat to the Crown’s legitimacy.

So that was a dividing point between the North and South that lawmakers loved to exploit.

[hr]1723 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 12th, 12017

“Please, Mr. President.” The Prime Minister pleaded. “For the good of the country.”

Stephen Yang looked up at the other Steven and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do it.”

“I know you don’t like it, and frankly, neither do I. But please, Mr. President. Sign it. It’s a time of national disunity. There are food shortages across the North due to bad weather. We’ve got to be seen doing something.”

“I can’t do it, Steve. I can’t voluntarily betray my home, my country, and tell these people how to live.”

Steven Markson sighed. “This won’t look good for us. Polls of the North say they overwhelmingly support this.”

“And the South?”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s not the point. Getting Southern support won’t get stuff passed in this Legislative system. The North is the key. And if you’re not careful, McLocke will have it!”

The President paused. He looked out the window, into the hazy snowfall. He made up his mind.

“No.” Stephen figuratively spat. “I’m not going to put politics over country. And that is my final answer.”

Steven sighed. “Good day to you, sir. Let the die be cast.”

With that, he left the room. 10 minutes later, the President could see him trudging through the snow into the darkness.

Stephen leaned back in his seat and looked forlornly at one of the pictures on his desk. Of his dear Sarah. She must be so happy over in Shiro Academy, enjoying the 24/7 sunlight and no snowfall anywhere…just like home…

His phone buzzed. He tended, turning it on. It was a text. From Sarah. How convenient.

> Happy Lunar New Year, Dad. It’s coming up!
･゜ﾟ･:.｡…｡.:･‘(ﾟ▽ﾟ)’･:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･
(^з^)-☆

It took him a few minutes to reply.

《 You too, Sarah. Happy Lunar New Year.

Stephen realized, after he had pressed ‘send,’ that something had changed. His conversations with Sarah were normally very upbeat. He found no trace of his former disposition now.

And then he thought of the current predicament. How could he tell his own daughter how to celebrate? That’s when he knew he made the right choice.

6

It was set to rain in the South.

Protesters stood shoulder to shoulder, packed outside the Southern Provincial Assembly in Marsepolis, shouted from beneath their brightly colored umbrellas, and shouted in outrage of Senator McLocke’s audacious action and against the Northern members for supporting him.

It was only two days before Lunar New Year, and each passing minute put more and more tension between the divisions between North and South.

Security placed outside of the Assembly building noted that the crowd looked absolutely murderous.

Chants for McLocke to be removed from the Senate reverberated throughout the crowd. When lightning cracked overhead and thunder rumbled, the crowd cheered.

“We cannot allow the North to trod on our national identity any longer!” one voice sounded.

“Hear, hear!” the crowd went.

“The North has awoken a sleeping dragon!” another voice shouted. “Their oppression shall be tolerated no longer! We shall finally be equals!”

The crowd roared in approval.

And of course, news cameras were at the scene, broadcasting the demonstration to the whole world.
[hr]1109 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 14th, 12017

Senator McLocke just couldn’t believe his luck.

Originally, he had feared his plan would have failed as soon as Stephen Yang said no. But there was still the Congress, another way to pursue his ambitions. The normally Southern-held stronghold was almost empty though, as most of the Southern representatives had gone home to celebrate and join the demonstrations.

Luckily for him, the Congress did not recognize Lunar New Year as a holiday to have a congressional recess from. And there was just enough people to fulfill quorum.

Soon, the bill was on Stephen Yang’s desk. Again.
[hr]1558 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 14th, 12017

“He really is resilient, isn’t he?” sighed the President, looking across the desk to the Prime Minister. A familiar scene, nearly the same circumstances over again.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Steven Markson asked.

“I can’t let this pass.” Stephen replied, “This’ll be bogged down in the courts forever. Too many legal jumps in procedure. Too many contradictions with the Constitution. And the principle is unacceptable.”

“You have to comply. Both houses voted on it. You have 24 hours before they’ll charge you with contempt of your Oath of Office.”

“There’s mountains of evidence to acquit me. The only one who should be on trial is McLocke - for treason.”

Steven looked out at the window, at the rising level of snow. “I couldn’t convince you a few days ago, and it’s doubtful I’ll convince you now.” He turned to face the President. “Goodbye. And…good luck, Mr. President.”

With that, he walked out of the Office.

7

With all the hubbub about the upcoming Lunar New Year, it should be noted what is actually being celebrated as it is in the South.

After the fireworks show and the opening ceremony (which is just for show), most Southerners congregate in the city square and practice Tai Chi, to cleanse the mind and soul for the new year, and to emphasize the human spirit and cooperation that Ancient Southerners idealized.

Cooperation and recalling the traditions of the past are all values that many Ancient philosophers have taught, and many believe it is essential to keep the Southern lifestyle alive.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons the North fears it; the combined spirit of the South and the continued lifestyle passed down from generation to generation could lead to a revolution.

Of course, when you ask most Northerners today, they deny that as the reason, partly because they’re actually nice people on the inside and aren’t very prejudiced in everyday life. However, media and lawmakers do stir up fear very well.

Who knows? Maybe this is a biased point of view after all.
[hr]1213 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 17th, 12017

Senator McLocke sat at his desk and smiled. Everything was going quite well. Maybe a few bumps that needed to be ironed out here or there, but nothing permanent.

Hmm, maybe more than a few bumps. McLocke frowned. Some of the bumps were slightly more serious, and he did only have a day to think of what to do. But it wasn’t too bad.

A knocking at the door brought him out of his thoughts. “Sir,” an aide interrupted. “There’s someone here to see you.”

McLocke was pretty sure that he didn’t schedule any appointments. “Send them in,” he decided.

The door opened. McLocke’s eyes widened. “You!”

He stood up and extended his arm. “Long time no see.”

The visitor smiled and shook McLocke’s hand. “It’s a pleasure,” he rasped.

“Smartly dressed as usual.”

The visitor was wearing a dark suit with a darker bow-tie and was topped with a fedora. In his right hand was a characteristic beige-colored briefcase.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” the visitor asked, pulling up a chair.

“I didn’t think you needed anything besides the AMMO Act.” McLocke raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, but I’ve heard from your staff about some…difficulties in your plan?”

McLocke made a mental note not to gloat about his victories. “Ah yes,” he replied. “And what do you make of them?”

“I note that your biggest obstacle seems to be with the Peacekeeper unit. The Captain sure doesn’t like what’s going on.”

“That is true,” McLocke said, nodding. The Captain of the Peacekeeper unit wanted nothing with this nonsense and as his title said, stirring up trouble was made significantly harder. “What do you plan to do?”

“Oh, I don’t plan to do anything,” the man chuckled, opening his briefcase. “I was never here. But the Captain does have some explaining to do…”

The dark-suited man took a handful of papers with a binder clip out of his briefcase and handed it to McLocke. McLocke’s eyes widened as he read the first page.

“Oho! This is very, very good. Oh, I feel so sorry for that-”

“I see my job here is done.” The man winked. “See you later.”

He shut his briefcase and left the room, leaving McLocke to contemplate what to do and laugh evilly.
[hr]1645 Hours
Atlae Isles City, The Atlae Isles
February 17th, 12017

The Southern Atlae Military Base Division in Atlae Isles City, by direct order, was not to be doing active military exercises during the Lunar New Year week. It was rumored that the officers would have liked to allow the soldiers to go and celebrate off-base, except it wasn’t a federally recognized holiday.

The soldier stationed at the door yawned, then stood at attention and saluted as he saw the Captain walk towards the entrance.

“At ease, soldier.” The Captain replied, returning the salute. He sounded wary.

“How was your call with the President, sir?” The Captain’s call with the President was long-awaited and had been the talk of the day.

“He’s in court.” The Captain growled. “Bunch of bureaucratic freaks they are.”

The Captain then walked inside, preventing the asking of more questions.

He went into his office and the phone rang. “Hello?” he answered.

“Good afternoon, Captain.” said the voice on the other side. “This is Senator McLocke.”

The Captain froze. In a steely voice, he replied, “I’m not doing what you want.”

“Oh really?” The voice sounded amused. “I found some papers that concern you. They say that you’ve been leaving the base to meet with a wom-”

“No matter what you do, I’m not bending to whatever your dastardly plans are.”

“Let me finish. After you’re done, you go back to base and funnel the Army’s money to pay-”

“All that you’ve stated is false.”

“Really.” McLocke suddenly sounded much more sarcastic. “It’s not like there’s surveillance footage of this happening not once, not twice, but-”

“Alright, alright!” The Captain couldn’t help but have a twinge of fear in his voice. “What do you want?”

“Ah, it’s simple. So glad you’re listening to reason. I’ve heard your men want to go and celebrate. I propose they do their jobs - keep the peace. They can be stationed at the celebrations to keep things in order.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Well, obviously you’re not exhibiting quite the behavior to command our troops. For this, we’ll have our officers command your troops. Good day, Captain.”

McLocke sneered at the word Captain, and the line went dead.

8

Traditional Lunar New Year celebrations began at sunrise, so most traditionalists gathered in the city center to congregate while others slept in and tuned in on TV to watch the spectacle.

Those that showed up early would begin a form of meditative martial art. Its intended purpose is to call upon the inner spirit, but you can see the controversy over a national holiday practicing a martial art, if you’ve been paying attention.

After all the meditative rituals were done, it would be time to dance, usually with traditional paper umbrellas. Since it was due to rain, most decided to bring normal umbrellas.

An ancient part of Southern Atlaesian history was when gunpowder was discovered, long before colonization. Over time, the fireworks displays became more and more ornate as knowledge of chemical additives came about in the last few centuries.

At that time, parades would come by and there would be concerts, which were a fairly more recent addition to the Lunar New Year tradition.

Of course, there were Lunar New Years that stood out. One particular year a long time back was a total solar eclipse, which caused mass pandemonium of the apocalypse until it passed after 8 minutes and the world was still there.

No one expected this Lunar New Year to ruin it all.
[hr]0600 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep.

Ma Geming groaned and covered his head in his blankets. He didn’t want to get up. Not now.

BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep.

He supposed it really was his fault. He really shouldn’t have stayed up until the early morning playing those latest battle royale games, especially before Lunar New Year.

BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep. BEEP. beep-beep.

He really didn’t want to go. He had long outgrown the festivities; it might have been fun when he was 9, but he was 14! He didn’t want to go…he was just too tired…

BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.

“Big Brother! Wake up!”

In his grogginess, Ma Geming could make out a dark, blurry figure. He groaned.

BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.

“Did you sleep in again? Do you know what day it is?” a high-pitched voice giggled.

Ma Geming stretched his arms and yawned. “Unfortunately,” he answered, not specifying which one.

BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.

He heard another giggle. “You’re still half-asleep, aren’t you?” His younger sister asked.

“Obviously.” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but it was 6 in the morning and he was cranky.

BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.

Ma’s hand slammed into the nightstand next to him. After a few attempts, he managed to hit the Snooze button. “Just let me sleep, please.”

“No way! It’s the Lunar Festival! You have to come!” His 10 year-old sister, Ma Xinwen, shouted, shaking him awake.

He sighed. There was absolutely no chance of him ever regaining this lost sleep, so what was the harm in going? “Screw it,” he muttered, his voice low enough that she wouldn’t hear.

“Come on! Mom and Dad are waiting for you!”

Ma Geming sat up, turning on the light. Noting the overcast weather outside, he changed out of his PJs and put on a jacket. He met his sister and parents at the door as they were ready to leave. Ma quickly grabbed his umbrella as he followed his family to their car. He just wanted it over with.
[hr]0630 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

The car stopped at one of the available parking stops a few blocks away from the city plaza. They were not the earliest, but they were not at the point where it was completely crowded.

It was still dawn, the sun was only a few minutes away from rising above the clouds from the previous night.

Ma’s family found a spot in the grass at the city plaza. Unfortunately, due to the rain, mud quickly piled onto his sneakers. He sincerely regretted not bringing boots like his sister had.

One of the things that he noticed immediately was the increased police and military presence at the city center. He had no idea about the political firestorm over the holiday celebrations besides what he had overheard from a conversation between his parents. Still, he noted that it was a bit odd.

His sister was already following the lead of the others present, flawlessly mimicking everyone else. She was in a dancing class, after all.

“Showoff.” Ma Geming grinned. He definitely couldn’t do it as well as his sister, but he certainly tried.

Ma Xinwen stuck her tongue out at him.
[hr]0638 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

A military officer observed the festivities from a nearby rooftop. He had been dispatched by a Northern unit to ensure obedience, and definitely did not like what he saw.

As the sun’s light pierced through the clouds, a collective murmur went through the crowd as they reached for their colorful umbrellas.

The officer narrowed his eyes and reached for his radio. “Form ranks. Advance now.”
[hr]0640 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

Ma Geming held out his hand as his mom passed out the umbrellas. It was red with yellow spots; the color wasn’t the best, but it would do.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the soldiers moving. Walking to each other, the soldiers in each unit were shoulders-width apart. They raised their plastic riot shields.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, they charged straight into the crowd.
[hr]0700 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

Stephen Yang sat down in the chair and took a look around him. It was not the comfiest of rooms, with the plain walls and the angry faces of the Senate Judicial Committee glaring down at him. For a short moment, he was reminded that once, he was on the other side of the room, being a Senator himself. He noted some empty seats, presumably the Southern Senators who were back home celebrating. He wished he could be there instead of this dreary place.

The Chairman banged the gavel. “Good morning. The Committee of Judicial and Government Oversight will come to order. The Chair is authorized to declare recess at any time. We welcome all participants to the hearing about the contempt of the oath of office by President Stephen Yang with regards to the willfull refusal to enforce Senate Bill 538 after a veto-override by both houses of the Legislature. The Chair recognizes himself for the purposes of an opening statement.”

“The will of the populace determines the President that will serve the Atlae Isles, guiding the country. However, the President is not all-powerful, and is bound by the Constitution, which, to quote, reads, “The executive power shall be vested in a President of the Atlae Isles, who shall enforce the laws of the Atlae Isles.” The Presidential Oath of Office, which our witness has sworn upon, reads as follows, “I do affirm my right to lead the country to the best of my ability, to protect the Atlae Isles and the Constitution thereof and serve the office of President of the Atlae Isles. So help me God.” However, after the passage of Senate Bill 538 and a veto-override, the witness has not only refused to acknowledge its passage, but willfully infringed upon the oath he swore on for the enforcement of Senate Bill 538. Mr. Yang has willfully infringed upon his Constitutional duty. The President is not above the law, so we must keep him to it.”

“No other Senator has prepared any public statements, so I welcome our witness. Mr. Yang, if you would please stand, I will begin and swear you in.”

Stephen stood and raised his right hand.

“Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Stephen nodded, and said, “I do.”

"Your submitted written statement shall be in the record in full. For sake of time, we ask that you summarize your opening statements in 5 minutes. There are three lights, green, yellow, and red. When the red light shows, it has been 5 minutes and your time will have expired. Mr. Yang, you may begin.
[hr]0640 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

Ma Geming didn’t know what happened. It all happened so quickly.

One moment he was opening his umbrella, the next he was on the ground. And his sister was screaming.

He never wanted to go to the festival in the first place. There was just so much screaming…

“No! No! No! Let me go!” screamed Ma Xinwen, her voice sounding far away.

Ma Geming sat up with a start. Among the ruckus, he could see the soldiers carrying away his sister and parents in handcuffs. He supposed that he was on the ground when it happened and the soldiers did not see him.

He made eye contact with the frightened face of his sister. Her eyes were stricken with her tears and she mouthed, Go. NOW!

He ran. Ran as fast as his legs could take him, away from this dreadful place.

He could hear the soldiers running him, yelling, “Stop! You’re under arrest!”

The soldiers weren’t native; they didn’t know the city layout of Marsepolis. After all, they were here to keep the peace, not occupy the city. So when the boy ran into a dark alley between buildings, the soldiers followed him and ended up lost in the maze of buildings. Eventually regrouping, they decided to retreat, figuring that the one that got away couldn’t do much anyway. It wasn’t like they had apprehended the whole crowd; many had run off, what could one boy do?

Ma Geming sat, panting heavily, next to a dumpster behind a restaurant. Cursing his luck, he wondered how he got here. He just wanted to stay home.

9

If you remember, some naval bases in the South had decided to furlough some of their men for the holiday. In addition, through some blackmail, McLocke had gotten soldiers from the North to “keep the peace.”

So when the South went up in celebration, the military cracked down on the illegal demonstrations. In some cities, they fired tear gas and rubber bullets at the crowd. In all cases, they brought those that they could arrest to the naval bases, the nearest military installment.

They couldn’t have the sailors operate security, as they would clearly be sympathetic. So they furloughed all sailors until further notice.

Most of the navy installments were built at locations picked centuries before, and as such there were definitely problems with security. The relatively more recently built Sky Guard bases had refused to store them, one of the reasons being capacity.
[hr]0743 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

Ma Geming opened his eyes to find that he was once again on the cold, hard ground leaning on a dumpster behind a restaurant. Getting up carefully and dusting himself off, he walked slowly to the entrance to the alleyway system.

After waiting a few seconds, he stuck his head around the corner. There were no soldiers there to arrest him. Pedestrian traffic seemed normal for the time of day, except passersby stared at the soldiers patrolling the streets.

Moreover, Ma Geming was hungry. Aside from being a growing boy and having a strong metabolism, instead of joining his family to eat the traditional dumplings and rice caeks at midnight, he had opted to play video games with his friends. He wondered where they were now, whether they were caught up in the fray as well or chilling at home without a care in the world.

The entrance to the restaurant that Ma Geming had hid behind wasn’t too far off. He could probably make it there if he ran without being spotted. He put his hands in his pocket to find that he still had a red envelope filled with karubles. A pang of guilt hit him as he realized he was supposed to give it to his sister, who would never receive it.

One thing at a time, Ma told himself. After seeing the soldiers turn their heads, he burst out of the alleyway and ran to the restaurant.

He burst through the door, and the waitress looked up. Turning around, she walked towards Ma, showing him a seat. “What would you like?”

Ma sat down. “I’d like the New Year’s Special.” The New Year’s Special referred to the traditional dumplings and rice caeks eaten on New Year’s Eve that he had earlier skipped. Unlike his family, who made them by hand, others relied on caterers, like this one.

The waitress nodded. “Crazy stuff what happened in the Plaza, huh?”

“What?”

“Looks like the military cracked down on the celebration. I wasn’t there because I had to help open this place up, but there were people knocking on the door looking for a place to hide.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? I’ll get you your New Year’s Special.”

Ma Geming turned to look at the TV screen. Military Crackdown on New Years Celebrations, the headline wrote. Peacekeeping Atlaesian military units from the North have charged into a crowd of Lunar New Year celebrators following weeks of controversy leading up to the ethnic holiday.

Ma turned and muttered, “Thank you” to the waitress who had returned to bring him the plate. Taking chopsticks in his hand, he started eating and returned his focus to the TV screen.

-rested for illegally demonstrating with a permit. They are being held at a makeshift prison at Marsepolis Naval Base. Those sailors still on duty over the holiday have been furloughed.

Ma kept watching and eating until he realized that the chopsticks had picked up air. Asking the waitress for the check, he started to formulate a plan in his mind.

He had been on a school tour of Marsepolis Naval Base when he was younger. Once he had gotten separated from the rest of the group and went to go explore. He had eventually found the other students, but he knew where things were. There were also very obvious spots where security was very lax because of its location.

Putting down a 10 Karuble note, Ma Geming left the restaurant, hopped on a dockless bike, and headed towards the Naval Base.
[hr]1100 Hours
Atlaerskoiy, The Atlae Isles
February 18th, 12018

“-and this meeting is adjourned.” The gavel sounds.

Stephen Yang, President of The Atlae Isles, stood up to leave, his wife Alice waiting for him.

They walked together through the hallway. “That was rough.” Stephen said.

“You think?” the First Lady responded. “They’re out to get you.”

“Yeah…” Stephen sighed. “Can’t say I didn’t expect this, though.”

Alice stopped walking and looked at him. “You know what’s going to happen. You know they’ll stop at nothing to get you down. What will happen now?”

“They’ll probably vote to indict me on some baseless charge. And that means house arrest until a trial.”

“And what will happen to us next? Do you remember our promise to each other?”

“You mean marriage vows? 'Til death do us part and all that?”

“No! Well, yes, but before that. Long before that. Do you remember?” Alice looked at him straight in the eye.

[spoiler]1337 Hours
Marsepolis, The Atlae Isles
August 31st, 11976

A much younger Stephen Yang was playing with an also younger Alice Zhu, both around 7 to 8 years old. They were laying down near the lighthouse, looking out at the sea.

He didn’t realize it then, but looking back, Alice definitely had a crush on him. It certainly explains what happened next.

“Hey Stevie, where do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Umm, that’s a bit far into the future. I guess I’ll be an astronaut…or a firefighter…or something.”

“I mean, who do you want to end up with? Do you want kids?” Alice’s voice got just the tiniest bit higher.

“I dunno, but I’m sure I’d want lots of kids!” He laughed. “The stork will be busy.”

“What about love? Have you ever loved someone?” Alice’s voice got higher and evidently, more frustrated.

Stephen thought for a moment. Had he loved any girls? The Qixi Festival was only two weeks before. It was something about lovers who could finally meet once per year, and how their bond could never be broken. “I don’t know if I’ve loved anyone like those two lovers with the magpies did. At least not yet.”

“You mean, where love went through all bounds, no matter what an angry goddess could do?”

“Yeah…I guess I’d want somebody who loved me like that.”

Alice stood up. “Well, I do,” she stated defiantly and held Stephen to the ground. “I never want you to leave me. We won’t go apart, no matter what happens. Like those two lovers.” She kissed him right on the lips. “Promise?”

Stephen was shocked. He wasn’t expecting this to happen. But looking into Alice’s eyes showed that she was sincere. What could he say to that? So he succumbed.

“I promise.”
[/spoiler]

“That was so long ago…” Stephen said.

“I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“But…if I’m placed under house arrest-”

“Screw that! Love knows no bounds. Do you love the country that has betrayed you or me?”

Stephen knew he was trapped with this question. “Well, whatever I choose, what do I do about it? The Legislature sure as hell won’t care.”

“Ugh! You’re impossible!” Alice stuck her tongue out at him. “If we end up separated, can’t you at least admit your love to me or something until we return?”

“Aww.” Stephen leaned in for a hug and kissed her. “I love you too.”

“Thanks. I needed that.”