[img]https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UoSoeC1q1x8/maxresdefault.jpg[/img] "I can't begin to describe it. The freedom of the open plains, the taste of the open air, the smell of the open fields! Why do we seek to protect and shelter ourselves from the outside world, couping ourselves into metal boxes with wheels or wings or gas, while with a horse you can splash about in puddles, blaze new trails across the wilderness, and enjoy the sunset atop a gentle hill? Why must we always be so stiff and sophisticated day in and day out? How did so many thousands and millions distance themselves from the nature from which they came from?" - [i]A Foreigner in Anglonia[/i], Page 75 King Ula-Williamson I put down the book, and stroked his mustache. He felt quite stuck, all things considered. So many things swirled around and clashed in his head, dizzying him. Such simple nations, the people with simple needs, simple cultures, simple desires. Men got up, attended their animals and family, went to work, maybe hit the pub for a chat and a drink, and headed home. But Ula-Williamson? He had to wrestle around with how to make two nations one, day in and day out, a monumental task that he would not wish upon his worst enemy. Of course stability flowed nicely now, he wouldn't stand for it if it were any different. But the fact that remained was that eventually, someday, somehow, his heir or their heir would oversee the splitting of the Second Union. In his opinion, a dual monarchy was just a good bridge to a better government, nothing more, and if the bridge didn't end up leading to somewhere it would collapse. He would not stand for that either, hence his conundrum. How to stay mostly out of the harsh politics of the world, yet be strong, breeding patriotism, nationalism, unity, and winning some great political victory that proved the worth of the Second Union to both itself and the word? How to stay true to Anglonia and Eirein while simultaneously making something new from them? "How...?" The King asked aloud, self-consciously yet audibly. As if in response, a man burst into the throne room, dressed in a strangely fitting combination of modern northern styled uniform with accents of centuries old Anglonian fashion, including a formal coonskin cap. "Your Majesty, of the Great Union of the Kingdoms of Anglonia and Eirein, the first-" "You don't have to be so formal with me, Mac..." "Its Douglas, Great King. And according to the Second Union Constitution..." "According to the Second Union Constitution I have the right to edit my title within some reason. Now must I amend the Constitution just for this, or can you just accept it like everyone else has?" "Y-yes Mi'lord." "Good." The King let out a stressed sigh, "Now, what have you come here for, Douglas?" "A message, Mi'lord. A meeting in 3 weeks in Coral City-" "What for?" The King asked, cutting him off. "For... 'an alliance and ordering of the continent.... to ensure our shared security and prosperity..." "Perfect!" The mustachioed king suddenly rose up from his throne in a burst of excitement. Douglas flinched, surprised and unnerved. Either ignorant, or uncaring, he continued his shouts, "An international meeting with our friends and neighbors! Both different and the same! Perfect, perfect!" The king, still standing, dismissed Douglass, and only sat to start putting together his plans for the conference, vigorously jotting down notes, shuffling papers, and contacting and sometimes even listening to his advisors. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- All the while, in three completely separate dank rooms, scattered across the nations were three groups: ultra-nationalists, communists, and wanna-be parliamentarians. All three knew their places in society, and all three knew that currently only the parliamentarians would be considered if the government were to undergo a major shift. It was no wonder, with the popularity of the king and royal family. Yet the other two would not sit there idly, instead plotting and preparing and biding their time to make their mark on the Second Union. It was do or die, and whether their opportunity came in weeks, months, or years, do or die they would do. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In an inland military base, a man and his horse were being trained to trust in powered armor. Making sure that the horse would feel protected, but not invincible, small arms were fired in the general direction of the horse, blatantly aimed at fake targets and dummies nearby it, bullets sometimes grazing or denting the armor, but without many direct hits never coming close to puncturing it. "Aren't there better ways of doing this?" A private asked, flinching after every shot went off. "This is only one stage of training you and your partner. The next step, for example, involves you learning repairs for powered armor, starting with this set." The private now flinched doubly so after every shot was fired.