[hider=I HAVEN'T POSTED IN A LONG TIME. CLICK THIS FOR AN OVERVIEW OF ETHIOPIA'S STORY.][i] Previously, on Efiopia... [img]https://i.imgur.com/qw5zZKD.png[/img] It is a period of Civil War. The once English colonies of Kenya and Uganda united in common cause to overthrow white rule. A Houist government was installed, calling itself the Swahili People's Republic, commanded by a triumvirate of James Lutalo, the melodramatic and ambitious chairman of the party; Thomas Jefferson Murungaru, the moody and ambitious General Secretary; and Paulo Madada, the professional and serious Treasurer. After expelling the last white outpost at Mombasa and purchasing methamphetamines for his army from a shady doctor operating in Ethiopia's Danakil desert, TJ Murungaru has returned to Revolution Town, the capital in Uganda, to find the Communist State in tatters. Anarchists, commanded by the dynamic Marcel Hondo-Demissie and his beautiful wife Grace Odinga, harass them from the west leading the Watu wa Uhuru, or Free People, from their base at Fort Portal. Worse than this, a reactionary army of pillaging Christian extremists terrorize the countryside, calling themselves the FAG, or Freedom Army of God, led by the enigmatic Elder Saul Allred, Mormon Freedom Fighter turned bloody mercenary. They leave villages of crucified Muslims and non-believers in their wake and spread doubt about the competence of the Communist government. In Ethiopia, forces converge to bring down the old order. Somalia, known by their Ethiopian overlords as the Province of Adal, is commanded by the talented and legacy focused [i]Ras[/i] Hassan. Though his legacy lacks an heir suited for the tradition-minded Muslim Somalis, he has foisted his only daughter into that role, treating her as his son, though she feels more than anybody the pressure of her office in a land where women don't wield such power. Nominally, [i]Ras[/i] Hassan commanded the Armies of the Ethiopian Kingdom, militarizing his Somali possessions for this purpose. But sensing weakness, he has cast off the bonds of the Christian Empire, declaring himself the Emir of Somalia, and declaring holy Jihad against Ethiopia, with the help of methamphetamines purchased off a shady doctor operating in Ethiopia's Danakil desert. Winning their first victories, his armies move in triumph toward Harar, threatening to severe the eastern half of Ethiopia from the rest of that embattled Empire. In Ethiopia's northern highlands, the cattle rustler and self-imagined Robin Hood of Begmeder, Ergete Galawdeyos, declares himself [i]Fitawrari[/i]: commander, for a new democratic movement aiming to liberalize the country and free it, especially from the rule of the [i]Neftanya[/i]: sons of war heroes now become landlords over vast Latifundia in Begmeder province. His popular army grew until they were broken by the combined arms of [i]Ras[/i] Wolde Petros Mikael, uncle of the Emperor and Lord of Wollo, and [i]Ras[/i] Giyorgis Temare Mengesha, Lord of Tigray. With his army broken, Ergete went back into a life of raiding the rich until he was captured and imprisoned by Issayas Seme, the weaselly Governor of Begmeder. The presence of a mysterious Doctor selling drugs to their enemies has not escaped the notice of the [i]Shotel[/i], Ethiopia's investigative and intelligence organization. Their newest agent, the young girl Leyla Masri, just out of an all girls school, earned her badge by showing exceptional shooting skills. She is paired with Agent Elias Zelalem as they go to investigate in the Swahili People's Republic. The turmoil in Ethiopia surrounds its royal family. Decades earlier, the Crown Prince Yohannes and his wife Eleni had three children. The first was Sahle, followed by the only girl Taytu, followed lastly by the youngest, Yaqob. They meant for many more children, but Yohannes died young, and when the Emperor died his grandson Sahle took the throne. Dissolute and irresponsible, his poor reign has been at the center of Ethiopia's woes. Eleni prizes her three children and helps her son rule, hoping to protect him from the dangers of ruling a large kingdom. Sahle's younger brother Yaqob looks at him like an example of how not to be. When Sahle is pleasure seeking, Yaqob is knowledge seeking. When Sahle is indifferent, Yaqob is idealistic. When Sahle is irresponsible, Yaqob thinks he would be more responsible. The idealistic young Prince has been sent to China, the seat of the Communist Empire ruled by Chairman Hou, who Yaqob happens to look up to. There, Yaqob has had time to read and ponder leftist politics. Living with the ambassador Akale Tebebe, the Prince finds himself the center of Right-Wing (China's "Financial Faction") schemes to get into Ethiopian markets using loopholes in the communist system. A maid lent to him by the Right-Wing magnet, Deng Zhong-shan, has made it very clear she wants to know him more intimately, and he has obliged her, making her his first love. The Princess Taytu thinks her younger brother too idealistic, and her older brother the Emperor too incompetent. Written out of the Imperial inheritance by the nature of her sex, she has poured herself into becoming its premier Stateswoman, a job she found herself floundering in as an attache to the Embassy in the United States. Frustrated with her stifled attempts at diplomacy and the racial attitudes of the near-south, she went on a trip across the Western US, known for its radical leftist revolutionaries and free spirited attitudes, accompanied by her body guard Noh Mareko. While discovering America's west, they become hunted by racist bikers, ending in a shoot-out in which Taytu was injured. She was treated, then flown to Ethiopia to heal, but stopped in Spain when a fever forced her to seek immediate treatment. She now waits as Civil War spins in her homeland and something sinister grows around her in Spain. This all orbits Sahle, Negus Negast, Conquering Lion of Judah. Not naturally disposed to rule, he has left his government in the hands of his Minister of the Pen, Desta Getachew. Desta wields power to increase his own wealth and the success of his coffee importing business. Sahle knows Desta rules for Desta's sake, and he does not truly trust him, but he does not care, seeking pleasure in sexual affairs and the strange narcotic temptations brought to him by his friend Rudolph von Lettow-Vorbeck, scion of the von Lettow-Vorbeck family that rules the German-Exile Kingdom of Ostafrika. Sahle's poor rule has offended the ambitious Ras Hassan of Adal, and the prickly Hamere Noh Dagna, the latter ruling Ethiopia's naval district. When Hassan made his intentions known to rebel, Hamere declared disinterested neutrality, and Sahle's weakened Imperial government found itself scrambling to pick up the pieces. Sahle made it worse when he took the young American girl Livy Carnahan as his mistress, buying luxuries for her in a country that distrusts foreigners. Sahle broods over this, finding consultation outside of the palace. While unbeknownst to him, disaster strikes on his borders... [/i][/hider] -------------------------------------------- [u][b]Mid September, Addis Ababa[/b][/u] -------------------------------------------- Sahle woke up, caressed by silk blankets, but he did not open his eyes. He didn't want to be awake. The room smelled like roses, strongly so, overpowering the musty scents of the bordello, though he still smelled hints of the girl in the sheets where she'd been. A record was playing, the sound grainy. [i]Listen to me, honey dear Something's wrong with you I fear It's getting harder to please you Harder and harder each year[/i] Somebody knocked on the door. Light rasps. He heard the girl say "[i]Âllo[/i]" in her musical french. The record kept playing. [i]I don't want to make you blue But you need a talking to[/i] "It's Ruddy. Is he here?" said Rudolph's familiar voice on the other side of the door. Sahle closed his eyes harder as if that would banish care from the world. [i]Like a lot of people I know Here's what's wrong with you...[/i] There started the soft strum of bare feet against hardwood. [i]After you get what you want, you don't want it If I gave you the moon, you'd grow tired of...[/i] The record player stopped abruptly and the door was open. He felt what he knew was his clothes fall on him all at once. "Your majesty, they want you at the palace." Sahle sat up. It was the same room he'd fallen asleep in: overbearingly French, with antique Empire furniture and thin blue fleur de lis wallpaper. He saw Rudolph standing there in beige Ethiopian robes and a fez. His face was unusually stern; not the way a school teacher might look stern, but nonetheless a noticeable shift in his otherwise placid attitude. Camille stood by the record player in a thin blue negligee, watching dumbly from the corner, her thick dark eyebrows arching. He climbed out of the sheets and began dressing. What had happened? What could happen? Everything probably, he thought, grumbling to himself. The walk out of the [i]Vin Rouge[/i] was quiet. They went out the back where the Emperor's car waited for him. There were guards with plumed pith helmets standing watch. The air was cool after the storm of several days ago, but the sun was out now. It looked to be about noon. Rudolph opened the door for the Emperor and climbed in after him. Before the door shut, the knot of the tassel on Rudolph's fez caught the top of the door frame and knocked the hat sideways. "I believe the battle in the north has been lost." Rudolph said, straightening his fez. He was affecting disinterest. Or was he really disinterested? Sahle's heart skipped a beat. "Do we need to evacuate?" "I haven't heard talk of it. But they don't tell me these things. I'm just an innocent bystander." Sahle envied that, and envy made him offended at Rudolph's remark. How could he be so calm? They city seemed to echo this new fear. Were there fewer cars? Didn't it seem the people they passed were more anxious? The police in their booths more vigilant? Didn't this now feel like a city under siege? Even the light in the sky seemed muted, like a grey energy descended from the clouds. As they passed through the busier intersections in the center of town, confused with little cars and trucks and bicycles and burdened pack-animals, Sahle felt the eyes of everyone around. Did they know he was the passenger? A motorbike puttered past, two men riding on it. He imagined they would be soldiers soon. Perhaps they knew it. Perhaps they would die. The Imperial Limousine climbed the hill above the city. The palace sat on top beneath the shady trees. Guards met them as they entered the drive. Were there more guards around the palace now? Sahle was beginning to feel like a General, and the feeling was all wrong. They led him in. His mother met him at the door. Even though she was quite shorter than him, she felt taller, even menacing. "Thank you, [i][i]Freiherr[/i] von Lettow-Vorbeck[/i]." She said coldly to Rudolph. He took the hint and went in another direction. Sahle noticed his mother was dressed in all black, her dress trailing on the stone tile. "You need to replace Zekiros." she said. "I do?" they went inside. "This disaster is his fault. He did not listen to Desta." "That is good." "That is good? We are lost and that is good? We should not have opposed Hassan in that place." "How bad is it?" "It is very bad." she rubbed her cheek. "It happened yesterday. On [i]Enkutatash[/i], and your sister's birthday too. It is a bad omen." "I will not put Desta in charge. If I give him the Army he will make himself Emperor." "He only wants his money, he does not care about the office. That is a good servant. He does not puff himself up and make simple mistakes. That is what you have to watch out for. I trust Desta because I know he is good at his job, and that he wants the money, and that he doesn't want the government. He is not a threat like these military men, or the nobles. I trust him with your life." She said the last part slowly, trailing off. They entered the scarlet throne room. Zekiros was there in a pressed tan uniform looking like he hadn't slept, leaning over a table papered in disheveled maps. Desta stood on the other side of the table affecting his patented mix of meek and triumphant. Zekiros' officers huddled by him. Most of his advisors were away, leaving his older doppelganger Telaye, the priest Sisay, and the large-headed Medebew. They looked confused. Sahle decided they wouldn't be helpful. But like any moment where he felt like he needed to take command, Sahle's insides balked at the task. He wanted to leave this place. Instead of taking command, he said nothing. Things would be handed to him as they came. That's all he knew how to do. "Your majesty" Desta saw him first and greeted. The others repeated the greeting and bowed. Zekiros spoke next. "Your majesty, the line protecting the passes at Marda and Chinaksen has failed. The army is falling back through the mountains. We are forming a new defensive line." "It would not have been lost if our aircraft was in the sky." Desta said. "The aircraft is deprived of fuel." Zekiros struck next. They were like men in single combat. "I have told you this. Our reserves are sitting in Djibouti, and Hamere won't release them." "And what are the fuel reserves doing in Djibouti when the air force is located in Mek'ele? That is nearly three hundred miles difference by way of flight. For any craft that can fly that is, if it is given enough fuel." "It is cheaper to store it in the port. I would have liked to bolster our reserves, but it seems like the money is never there." Zekiros said. He was fuming, his eyes accusing Desta. "The civil war is out there, not in here!" Eleni said. Her eyes accused Zekiros. Too much tension. Sahle was getting a headache. He wondered where Livy was. In her house, perhaps, writing another letter to her American mother. "We will reorganize in Harar..." "You haven't heard the best part of the latest battle, my Emperor." Desta said. Sahle disliked his tone, but his ears perked up. He noticed Zekiros redden. Desta continued. "[i]Ras[/i] Hassan captured large portions of our armor." "Armor? The big trucks?" Sahle asked. "The tanks." "That is a thing that can be done?" "[i]Ras[/i] Hassan did it. I heard the tanks moved forward from the rest of the army. They were boarded, by cavalry is what I hear. I don't know. It could be a rumor. But I know we have lost most of our armor in that battle none the less." Sahle was astonished. He didn't say anything. They were really losing this war. And what could he do against an enemy that could steal armored trucks in live battle like they were unwatched horses? "[i]Ras[/i] Hassan is a genius, and we will have to watch out for that." Zekiros said. "His father was a genius. It is in his family's blood." "Do not make him into a devil, my brothers." Sisay spoke up. The old priest was usually quiet, so hearing his voice was another astonishment for Sahle. Sisay continued. "He is just a man. Only a man. If you become scared of him, you will let his legend beat you." "He has no legend." Sahle said, mindlessly, because it felt like something he should say. He saw the priest's wrinkled features fold as his face went back to its typical placid expression. Nobody else said a thing. "We will beat him." Sahle added. Zekiros brooded over his map, his head sunk between his shoulders. "We will come together tonight when more is known." he said. Desta looked up at him with predator eyes. "It is his majesty's right to convene or end a meeting of his Imperial Council." he said. Zekiros looked alarmed. Sahle did too. "My apologies, your majesty." The old general bowed. "It is okay." Sahle said. He didn't feel like he'd been offended. Should he have been? He looked at Desta's satisfied face and a light flickered on in his mind. He was watching politics. It made him tired. "You were right to end this meeting, [i]Meridazmach[/i]Zekiros" Sahle replied, emphasizing the title. "I agree that it is ended, and I will retire to my apartments. Is there anything else I need to know before I go?" "There is one thing." he heard his mother's voice and turned to her. He could tell by her face that she was unhappy, "The girl Carnahan is here. She arrived just after we did and came in uninvited." Sahle stared dumbly. "I invited her." he lied. He left the room, his emotions in a cloud. All he knew is he felt tired, and he wished very much he was still at the [i]Vin Rouge[/i]. -- He found her in his room, sifting through his records, fully dressed. He'd given her leave of the palace, but he regretted that now, seeing that it might cause problems. She wore a canary yellow dress with matching hat, and her hair went to her shoulders like red waves. Her blue eyes were wet and distressed. "I heard you went to the brothel. I've heard them talk about it." "I did this thing." he replied. He could see that it hurt her. He knew why, but at the same time he didn't know why. He wasn't a regular man. Surely she knew this. But she turned away from him. "I am not jealous." she started, her voice searching, "I know that it isn't my place here. But I don't understand my place. I don't know what to expect." "Only expect a little rock and roll." he said, trying a smile, making an attempt to sound American, even holding up his fingers as if to snap. She ignored it and continued, facing him again. "I feel like I'm... like one of Henry the Eighth's wives." she said. "I have heard the name." Sahle paused, trying to recall. "En-er-ree" he said, feeling the name on his tongue, "En-er-ree. I do not know. It sounds English, yes?" She didn't say anything. She turned around again and tears started to roll down her cheeks. "Should I be here?" she asked. What was he supposed to do about this? He was an Emperor, not a mother, and he did not know what to do, so he just stared at the back of her head. "And the war..." she said. Her voice wavered. "The war!" he grabbed onto this, "The war is no big matter! I will finish the war soon, and you will have no reason to cry. "I am a little girl. That's what I feel like." she said, sniffing, turning to face him. "There is war, you are a King. The boys at home I dated... all they had were boats..." The more she talked the more anguish played across her face. She turned away again and he could hear her sobbing. He was still lost. This was a lesson in why to appreciate whores; they did not do this to him. But he had to make an effort, so he came to her and turned her toward him. Her face was half as red as her hair now. "You are a little girl, but this is no reason to cry. I am here and you will be protected. I will win the war for you. Does that sound good? I will be your En-er-ree." She broke down and cried. Truly cried. And as she cried, he felt more awkward, and his feelings grew dark. He could not make this young woman happy. He could not control his counselors. He could not win a war. All he could do, all he could ever do, was just watch things happen around him. "I will win this war myself." he said. She still cried. Then she gathered herself, and spoke. "I shouldn't be here. Your people don't like me. I've heard rumors. What would they do..." she started crying. He took her in his arms, but she did not feel right there. She seemed to withdraw from him, into herself, so she felt like holding a coiled rug. Inert. He kissed her head. "I need to go." she said. She pulled away from him. "What do you want?" he asked for her as she walked toward the door. Her face was red. Her eyes were red. In the shadow of the room she looked sick. "I don't know. I came because you might know." She left. He was alone in the room. -- "I will command the army at Harar" Sahle told them. The throne room was dark and crimson like the inside of a heart. His advisors looked at him like he'd announced plans to kill himself. "That will not be necessary..." Zekiros said. "You are the talisman of Imperial power, your majesty. You will not be safe..." Desta said. "You are not a soldier, you are my son." His mother said flatly. And then they all stared at him, waiting. Sahle looked at Zekiros. "You wanted me on the front, to inspire the troops." "That was before we were..." Zekiros stopped, swallowing his words. "Before we were?" Sahle asked. "The front is not stable." Zekiros stated, "I am willing to help you if you wish to command from the front, but it will not be an easy task. You must be guarded. And we must bring in the air force. That will be truer now than it was before." "Do we have any plans to do this? To bring in the air force.?" "We will try to get a hold of the Djibouti reserves. In the meantime, we had some reserved for the armor..." Zekiros cleared his throat, "The air force can use that." "I am handing control of the civilian reserves to the military." Desta stated. "We can do that?" Sahle asked. "You can do that." Desta said stoicly, "You are the Emperor. And I act in your name." "You are not a soldier!" Eleni shouted. She looked angry, and that childlike existential fear of an angry parent held Sahle's tongue. Eleni looked at the advisors. "Will none of you say anything about this? This is insanity. The boy should not lead troops into battle. It cannot be allowed!" "The Emperor can do as he will." Desta said simply. His words were measured. Eleni's head pulled back so that she looked like a cobra ready to pounce. Desta didn't react to this, but kept speaking in the same tone he had been. "However, I advise the Emperor, in my capacity to do so, that he shouldn't do anything rash." "I am not doing anything rash." Sahle said, "Old kings led mean into battle. All over the world this is true. In Ethiopia, In China, In Russia, In America (he quickly realized this was wrong but kept going), In England too. It has always been true." "Was true, perhaps." Desta said, "But with all due respect, Kings commanded troops into battle with sword and lance. War has changed. Old kings did not contend with automatic guns and air fighters." "I do not say I will lead charges." said Sahle, feeling rattled and slightly embarrassed, "But I will be near the action. And the men will see me. Like Zekiros sai..." "Zekiros is not a competent man! Do not trust him for advice!" Eleni lashed out. The room was silent. Dead silent. Eleni looked them over "You will not stop this? Is no man here brave enough to save their Emperor?" Nothing. She retreated in an air of dignity, and left the room, and there was still silence for a time. "You will need to be protected of course." Zekiros said. "I have my guard. I will come with the planes. Is that a plan?" Sahle asked. "It will be done." Zekiros said. "I will stay in Addis Ababa." Desta added, his voice soft and assured. "Keeping normality is key. And an easy thing to perform." "His Majesty will decide that." Zekiros barked. He stared straight at Desta, a hard stare. Desta looked like he'd just been goosed. "I see no problem with the Minister of the Pen staying chained to his, er, pen." Sahle said. "He ministers your pen, yes?" Zekiros asked. Sahle nodded, understanding. Zekiros continued. "Well, your pen goes with you. Let him Minister it near your feet, your Majesty. Your mother can handle the city." "It seems the [i]Meridazmach[/i] cannot handle being parted from my advice." Desta said icily. He turned to the Emperor. "The continuation of government requires..." "Continuation?" Zekiros barked, more aggressive this time, and made a tumult. Everyone in the room was startled, but they seen immediately the mistake Desta had made, thought it might not have been a mistake if Zekiros hadn't jumped on it. But Desta was taken aback, and Zekiros pressed his advantage. "Continuation from what? Nothing will happen to his Majesty." "I only meant the continuation while his majesty is..." Zekiros turned to Sahle. "It is good to keep men like this close." Then he turned to Desta, "You are not the continuation of the government, Desta. If some deception were to befall his Majesty, the continuation of the government is his family." "I did not mean continuation in the event..." "Be quiet." Sahle commanded, and all was quiet. But Sahle did not feel firm on his feet. He was never a man to take the idea of danger to himself without fraying at the edges. He was rattled, and he knew he looked rattled. "Your majesty..." Desta started. "Quiet." Sahle gathered himself, "You will go with me. It will be best that way. For the continuation of government... from the front line." The air was still. Zekiros stood like a marshal statue in a city square, and his face was stony. "We adjourn." Sahle said. He left before they did. Two guards followed him. "I will be needing a car." Sahle said. Outside it was dark, but it did not matter. He was not sleeping in his vault-like room, alone. He could not stand to visit Livy either, and see her tear-stricken face. But he knew somewhere to go, because this horrible day had began when he left that somewhere. And so he returned to the [i]Vin Rouge[/i].