Montigny - January 12, 1836
Lord Edward Townshend of the Atlantic Federation was not a happy man. Ever since his appointment to the post of a Federation delegate, a never-ending series of political quandaries had ruined his dreams of leisure and power.
"Valkyr-" He stopped himself from uttering the taboo phrase. "-cursed Gallians just keep on making difficulties", he muttered into his beard as he surveyed the map of Europa on the opposite wall of his office.
No one had honestly imagined the tiny Principality to have even a Porcavian's chance of gaining its independence when it had taken up arms against its Imperial masters the previous winter. Although a small band of Gallian partisans had seized Randgriz, a significantly-sized Imperial garrison had been present nearby, so most of the Federation's delegates and politicos had expected the rebellion to be put down in short order.
What no one in either the Federation or the Empire had realized at the time was that the majority of the "Imperial" garrison troops present within the tiny nation were Gallian-born conscripts recently back from having seen brutal action on the Federation front. It didn't take long for these bitter veterans to rediscover their . . . sense of nationalism and promptly defect over to the side of the Gallian independence movement.
The entire Federation Parliament now had their bowels in an uproar in regards to the newly-formed fledgling nation. The new and still fragile armistice with the Empire could be shattered if the Federation officially recognized Gallia's sovereignty or turned it into one of their protectorates. On the other hand, allowing the Empire free access back into Gallia was not a particularly appealing idea, especially considering the region's natural resources. To be sure, it was a highly delicate situation. Townshend was startled out of his reverie when his manservant stepped through the door.
"Lord Towns'nd, the bloomin' council wants ter clock ya".
"What?" After nearly a year with the man, Townshend could not understand his accent for the life of him.
"The council want'a see ya"
"Oh". He gave the servant a suspicious glare. If the man could speak like any proper Appledorian, why on Earth wouldn't he? He brought his mind back to the issue at hand. "Thank you Percy." He watched as the manservant slunk back out the door. He stood up, feeling the weight of his 46 years as his back cracked, then started for the door.
"Where to, sah?" the driver asked as he climbed into his private carriage.
"Independence Hall." Townshend's intended destination, a magnificent stone building and the centerpiece of Montigny, was a triumphant testimony to the economic and political might of the Federation. The structure's name, however, was pure irony, considering the issue that Parliament was convening here to discuss. Townshend dismounted from the carriage and hurried up the marble steps.
The inside... was as expected. Although the bright colors and shining fixtures lent to aesthetics every bit as grand and imposing as the exterior, the gaggle of delegates, observers, press, and the chairman plying his gavel in the center of the meeting hall detracted from the effect.
"Order, order!" the chairman shouted as he continued to abuse his gavel. "All delegates present will come to attention!"
The bickering delegates quickly fell into line.
After a moment's pause, the chairman then continued as he sourly glanced at the papers piled upon his desk. "We are solely gathered here today to discuss the current political state of the Principality of Gallia. We are NOT gathered here to speculate upon a possibility of absorbing Gallia into our political sphere, nor upon the possibility of enacting military action against the Empire!"
"With all due respect, Sir, does not the Gallian issue include both of those subjects?" a nearby delegate asked with clear restraint.
"Indeed it does, gentlemen, but that is a subject for another day, and even if it were on our agenda, I do not recall the matter necessitating Parliament's members to chatter and bicker as if they were a fractious mob of housewives on Market Day!" This final exclamation finally silenced the chamber. "Thank you. Now, onto the subject of Galli-"
"We must treat with Gallia as an equal, and support it in its valiant stand against the Empire!" one delegate burst out.
"Are you stone mad?! We must neutralize any negativ-"
It was now apparent that the chairman had lost control of the situation altogether. "Gentlemen, please-" he began in quiet frustration.
"Do you want another war with the Empire?" another delegate began. "The current situation is far too tense-"
"Reactionary!" a heckler across the room shouted.
"Radical!" another shot back. The meeting soon dissolved into a disordered back-and-forth lobbing of crude insults. The chairman, sitting amidst the storm of words, looked as if he were about to cry.
Townshend, calmly sitting at his own desk, was not surprised. He had seen this situation altogether too many times before in regards to any piece of legislation, no matter how trivial. The meeting would now continue on for a few days, and, with a great deal of noise, accomplish absolutely nothing. Resting his chin on his palms, he considered the possibility, at least in his opinion, of voicing a much better option. Even if the idea didn't pass, he could amuse himself with listening to their petty responses.
"Gentlemen," he began at a lull in the shouting, "It is clear that we must do nothing in this situation!" Mildly amused at the astounded expressions of his fellow delegates, he continued. "If we support the Gallians, the Empire may view this as an overt declaration of war. On the other hand, if we support the Empire's claim, then we will be promoting our own downfall. Therefore, we must wait and see if the Gallians will be able to maintain their independence on their own."
There was a moment of silence throughout the hall. Then, fresh shouting broke out so as to put the previous round of bickering to shame. Townshend sighed noncommittally. Though not exactly enjoying the most heartfelt of support, he felt confident that his proposal would win out, if for no other reason that it would benefit from the fact that what passed for Federation politics generally proved incapable of deciding anything on its own, resulting in a lack of action. Not that he was actually suggesting anything new. He was simply setting himself up nicely for eventually claiming credit for the "brilliant" idea of allowing the Gallians to choose their own fate.
He then excused himself and discreetly left the meeting hall, knowing that he could very well disappear for hours without missing anything important. A far more pressing business now required his attention: The backroom deals and bargaining that created the real policies within the Federation. Perhaps he could arrange for some surreptitious aid to Gallia; an extra bargaining chip with a nascent government couldn't hurt. Still. . .
"Things in Gallia are looking to be very interesting in the near future," he muttered. "I really do wonder if its people have what it takes to break free of the Empire. . ."
Author Note: Many thanks to Markal for the beta-reading.