As of July 1, 1998, the Ozian government has yet to issue a formal response to the recent Myrorian measures.
Ozipol, Sankt. Ozi, Tower of the Listener
Saeya Iuseph, the High Admivi of Information, pushed her rotting wooden desk to the bay window area of her office. The typewriter and pencil mug on top of the desk rattled as she settled it. A newspaper fell off, a headline in all caps said PARTY SILENCE and a picture of the Myrorian declaration next to it. Three open windows overlooked the Tower compound that housed many forms of Ozian government for the past thousand years. Directly across from her office was the base of the Tower of the Listener, which you had to bend down to see the very top swaying in the sky. Beyond the tower and the mountain, she could see the sprawl of Ozipol rising and falling down hills and mountains into the bay.
Someone tapped the door and said, “Oi, Saeya.”
“Come in, Come in.” Saeya looked behind her, “Oh, Comrade Primav.” She stood stiffer at the sight of Primav Amelia Ostai.
“Please Saeya, call me Amelia. I’m tired of conversations turning into Comrade this, Comrade that.” She pointed at her desk setup, “I see you’re ready for the summer desk.”
“It’s scorchin’ today, did you see it’s going to be over 30 all week?”
“Yeah, and last winter we had minus 10 for a month. Thank Gaea we work at the tower for some wind right?”
“Yeah, you want a drink?”
“Shit, already? What do you have?”
“Gin, Aeloert, Akuavit-”
Amelia interupted, “Aeloert? That alley-piss from Rastianav?”
“Yeah, I also have some Myrorian Whiskey.”
“Eugh whiskey. You know what, screw it, time to fight my mother today. I’ll take the Aeloert.”
“Sure thing.” She reached into a drawyer of her moved desk and picked out a recyclable green bottle with a plain lable. She poured the bronze liquid into two different mugs, then handed one to Amelia.
“Vero,” Amelia raised her mug.
“Vero,” they both drank out of the mug, Amelia had a more soured face than Saeya.
“Oh, fuck, how do you drink that?”
“I throw it to the back of my throat so I don’t have to taste it.”
“You enjoy that? Why the fuck would you own a drink where you try not to taste it?”
Saeya shrugged, “I don’t hate it, and I grew up with it, so I have it for my best friends.”
“I’m your best friend?”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Her comment startled the Primav, normally people at all levels of government are prostrating to her. “Well I’m guessing you didn’t think I came here to drink Rastianav’s finest.”
“No, did you need me for this new Myrorian situation?”
“Yeah, what do you know about Nerandam Mirshanith?”
“Whatever his mistress tells us.”
“So you are able to control him? Did you cause this incident?”
“Not really, Yes. Kind of. Not really. It wasn’t our intention.”
“What the Listener does that mean?”
“Our informant, his mistress, she’s gone rogue, and I think she’s playing both him and us. She won’t respond to our numbers station anymore, and we’re still trying to figure out the details.”
“How did she become an informant?”
“She came to us, asking for insurance notes*. A specific amount, 32,500 P.E.I.”
“Did you ask why she needed it?”
“We did, and as usual she said, you have STIA, figure it out dipshit.”
“She sounds charming.”
————————————
Pelagis, Myroria, Mirshanith Loft
In the middle of a dimly lit and spacious master bedroom, a gargantuan bed had a middle aged man tied up in the middle of it. Paon, a light skinned woman in tight black leathers snapped a whip on him. She cut too close to his skin, and he shouted in pain “Ow! Stop! STOP!”
“What did you say? You ungrateful bitch.”
“S-sorry, my Queen! That was too painful.”
“That’s good, I’ll give you a break if you, now open up.” He opened up his mouth and she spat in his face, “You’re disgusting.”
“Th-thank you your majesty.”
“Ugh,” she reached back for a bottle of whiskey, it was empty. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She exited the room for the liquor cabinet across and even larger living room. When she reached back to grab a bottle on the top shelf. In the reflection of the bottles she saw a shadowed figure behind her and turned to it. A pair of bright violet eyes behind the barrel of a silenced pistol stared her down.
“Need a torch?” a woman’s voice said in Ozian.
The only weapon she had on her was a whip, but she didn’t know how to use it like that. “Who the fuck are you with? STIA?”
The woman laughed, “STIA? You’re in trouble with them too? No, no. I was sent by the Parpaskis. Where are the titles?”
“I told you, we couldn’t get them for you. I got you the money though right?”
“Yes, yes, they told me. But the Parpaskis want capital, not fucking paper. You need to do better than that to pay off your debts.”
“But I gave them what I owed.”
“I’m not here to negotiate with you. You signed a deal with the devil, not me. So, it seems, you don’t have the titles for them. I’m here to tell you, try harder, and I’ll see you next month if you can’t get them. Also stay in contact, If they don’t like what they hear, or nothing at all, then I might come visit again, and I won’t be chattin’ with you. Understand?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll do what I can, it’s just asking-”
“I don’t give a fuck, you talk to them. I’m just here to tell you, get to work.”
She stepped out of the dim light and disappeared. Paon turned on the nearest light switch she could, but she couldn’t see anyone around.
“MY QUEEN!? WHERE ARE YOU?!”
She grumbled and grabbed the nearest bottle, “What did I say about shouting?!”
