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Akarov wrote:

Paste

Proper term is flex paste

Even the most powerful man in the world was negligent: Nikolai Palk is dead.

It all came as a shock, to some even a miracle, when the news erupted across Slattsenw and soon after, across the world. One of the most powerful individuals in the world, or perhaps, ONCE most powerful person, fell at the hands of a heart attack.

Now, it is no rumor that Palk himself had already “died” once, and thanks to the likes of allied scientists the tyrant declared victory over death. Yet, he had always known narrow escape from death wasn’t forever, in fact, he knew he’d die much younger than he should have.

Palk, seventeen days before his 49th birthday, suffered his attack and fell dead in the lobby of Palk Tower - in front of at least dozens of businessmen and lobbyists. Of course, everyone within the nation is morning, but we all know there are those outside these borders in praise, and absolute joy, as a egocentric leader fell face first at the hands of God.

President Reuter sat at a bar, Palk always wanted one to be constructed at his funeral, and took a hard swing of alcohol. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was even drinking. As President of Slattsenw he knew for a damn fact he should be keeping his image up in times like this. But honestly, he could care less. His mentor, his friend, was dead. Reuter, if you remember, won a very narrow election with affair allegations stapled to his back. The man was considered an “illegitimate president” according to a handful of nations, and even by people in his cabinet itself.

He had spoken with Palk’s personal doctors, and apparently they all knew this was coming. Palk’s escape from death was short, but in the eyes of Slattsenw’s enemies, not short enough. Sure enough, there was no proof that this was some sort of a hit, but Reuter would never rule out the possibility.

He looked across the courtyard of the mansion, located on a small, innocent island in the Gorgeous Sea. Supposedly Palk had purchased Standman Island with his former lover, Fredrick Carlisle. He wondered if Carlisle still had stakes in the island, or if that was victim of the divorce as well. Who knows, he didn’t see any yachts from Vaquas here, so probably not.

There were so many boats.

Reuter never figured this many people, world leaders and other foreign individuals of course, would even bother to show up. After all, Palk had almost torn his friendships with everyone he came in contact with. Yet, here they were. Though, maybe they were here to spit on his grave.

Reuter did speak with... god what was their name... the President of Sarenium... the liquor was definitely getting to his head. He couldn’t even remember this their goddamn name. Either or, he did speak with them. Something about they may or may not be coming. Reuter did a pretty terrible job trying to heal the divide between Slattsenw and Sarenium. In fact, he probably made it incredibly worse.

Reuter figured he’d just drink the night away, here at this bar, and hope they won’t ask him to speak. God, this drink had to be from Akarov, this was the best drink he had in a long time.

Slattsenw wrote:

I think at this point in time would be a great and grand time to hold a funeral for the late, Supreme Premiere Nikolai Palk. If anyone wants to join in, well, go ahead.

is he actually dead this time

As the sun set, the Saren President thumbed over the pocket-watch six times over. Months, years maybe had passed since the passage of the Nationalization Act 2027. He remembered vividly. In January 2026 as the National Labor Party had all but merged with the National Progressives in a bid to fend off Horschtall's National Unionists, the Social Democratic Party of Sarenium had been registered. Led by a meagre, unknown Spanish politician and former President of the Nurses Union, Camilla Parker, she would win a surprise upset in a by-election, propelling her and her party to national prominence. Were it not for Preferential Voting, the National Union could have won, but instead the Progressives preferred the Social Democrats and she made the runoff, forcing a victory upon the nation. It stumped Henry Deruthesdan, but he was powerless, Camilla proved popular. Mixed-race, spoke six languages, was bisexual, and spoke vividly of liberating hard working Sarens from the grips of establishmentarian fascists. The center collapsed as her party surged to greater popularity, the Unionist Branch of the National Progressives defected in March of 2026, they were able to win State Elections or come close, so much so that Camilla Parker was sworn in as Prime Minister. The President remembered running for his first election in 2026, thank god the Social Democrats and Progressives united to back him.

The upcoming 2030 elections expected her Social Democrats to hold on, the nation's tilt to the left was complete when he signed the Nationalization Act, in one single hour every mine in Sarenium was bought by the Government, Horschtall refused to enforce it, threatening civil war, the idiot was arrested in 2028 for murder, conspiracy and a dozen other crimes as his actions against Labor MPs and intimidation tactics were made public. On this day the Slatsens had announced the death of Palk. The bastard was dead. The reaction was deliberately muted. Parker opted for niceties, issuing a warmly cautious sympathy note and dispatching the Foreign Secretary to represent the Government. Reuter had called him last night, asking if the Sarens would be attending, as if this President would go. No, no he would not. Some had broken out in celebration 'the tyrant is dead, death to the tyrant' some yelled. Amusing, he thought. His mind returned to the NA27, as it had been called. The up in profits from rare earth metals had propelled the Saren Tech industry to new heights, he was surprised they'd escaped nationalization themselves, but perhaps they wouldn't for much longer.

The door opened and in came a beacon of Saren pride, Madame President Alain Bronson, she gave a curtsey as was custom. Oh 400 year traditions hardly die easy. This President once would have stood, were she to enter his office, not today.

"Thank you for agreeing to go," he called to her as she sat.

"It's my pleasure," she replied, her tone indicating she did not look forwards to this visit. James Kennedy had made such a Prime Ministerial visit in his day. The painting on the wall in this President's office was exactly that, a despicable act that day. Other Presidents often chose a portrait to place, some chose themselves, the arrogant twats, others chose buildings or paintings. This one had half a mind to select the 1944 Battle of Marseilles when Sarens delivered a crucial victory at the Slatsen Port. Or the battle two weeks later at Bordeaux, nearly two-million Slatsens were trapped in the newly created line of Sarens behind them. They surrendered quickly at Andorra, but yes Marseilles weight heavy on his mind. Instead he'd chosen the Kennedy Assassination. Presidents rarely wanted to talk about that, it deferred attention to Prime Ministers, but this President preferred attention to be placed on Tortax Street, why should he think of solutions when he appointed someone to do exactly that for him? Much easier this way. Parker was visiting Melbourne today, she had seized Saren airwaves from Slatsen funeral preparations in the afternoon as she announced her boldest leftist idea yet; a jobs guarantee. Got even Fitzman never went this far, but the nation rewarded her. Young Sarens struggling with housing costs welcomed public housing initiatives, old Sarens struggling with retirement welcomed the boost to the Pensions Act. Those in the middle applauded the extra dollars for schools, roads and hospitals. Schools, roads and hospitals was how the once Nursing Union leader propelled herself into the Prime Ministership.

"Perhaps Nikolai really is gone," he glanced over at the television which had been rolled in that morning for convenience.

Alain looked somberly over, "my plane awaits, I wanted to come say goodbye, and thank you for the tap."

She'd been nominated as the next Administrator of Andorra, the semi-autonomous territory between Sarenium and Slattsenw had voted for Bronson by landslide margins both times she ran. The President nodded, understanding as he flicked the pocketwatch closed.

She stood to leave, "you know, Nick, you two share more than just a name," she glanced over at his medals that sat on the desk behind him. With that she left as Nicholas Stevens looked at the collection of them.

Was that a tear?

Perhaps, he might just be the only Saren to feel the slightest pang for Palk, not sympathy or pity or sadness, but this force of geopolitics was gone. He thumbed over the 2015 Service Medal he'd been given before he left the NIA, Palk wouldn't know that Stevens had been assigned to shadow Palk's every speech from 1990 to 1993, when the two met in an official capacity, every word was familiar. Stevens smiled weakly, on the one hand the tyrant really was dead, but on the other hand, so too was one of the nation's biggest source of humility. Would arrogance once again rule as it did before fear? Or would hope fill it's place? He hoped, but he knew his people, an entitled and bratty public that had only been satiated in recent years by non-mainstream thought. Alas, all he could do was serve. He was perhaps the last mainstream leader of Sarenium. On the television he saw a familiar face, a man who had only recently been a child, at least to Nick. As Sarens we know real enterprise comes through innovation! And boy can we innovate! He was saying, he smirked at the thought of it, the former Olympic swimmer had the fit and rig of a Saren God. Now, as Nicholas Stevens watched from the Presidential Office in the Palace, he heard an inspiring MP, and this one had the same last name as the first, Bronson.

As ironic as it was, President Reuter did in fact keep campaign promises. Though, only after his re-election, after he was reminded of the promises he made a few years back.

Slatsen Arabia, now the United States of the Middle East, was separated from Slattsenw in a massive Executive Order long, long overdue. This order also included the liquidation of one of Slattsenw’s biggest military states in the west: Slatsen California. Smaller pieces, such as Slatsen’s grip in the Horn of Polack [is that what we called Africa?] were lifted as well - this very much pleased the Sarens, who had been fighting for the Horn’s independence from Slatsen fingers for almost an entire generation.

Reuter, however, did not liberate Slatsen Zealand, a complete military state that hosted nearly 40% of the nations entire Naval capabilities. Those two islands were perhaps Slattsenw’s most powerful piece on a old board of chess, a rotting, less solid board that once hosted the worthiest of battles.

But those were history now. Everything was history. Nothing, nothing at all from that time was worth anything now, just extra homework assignments for the— that was another “achievement” on Reuter’s end. A complete overhaul Education Bill. Nothing comparable to the Saren “prestigious” outlook, but definitely a solid bill for a nation as big as Slattsenw.

Reuter took another swig of his drink - Slattsenw wasn’t what it was when he started.

God why the hell am I still going at this game.

Heyyo you guys still active im from Kaiserreich

La apodaca wrote:

Hello.... polacion
I am the Apodaca I come in the name of Nokhere, probably you do not know it but it is one of the largest secret regions, I only come to give my deepest sorry, you will wonder why Nokhere one of the most important regions takes notice of you (without offending ), one of our leaders was a great friend of his leader, (I cannot say his name since he preferred to be anonymous) but they sent me simply to give their condolences, it was just that.

what in the flying fvck does this say

Huben wrote:

Heyyo you guys still active im from Kaiserreich

hola papi

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Slattsenw wrote:

Oh I don’t think I told you all, I tested positive for COVID-19 three weeks ago.

Told who? The void?

I did the die

Sarenium wrote:

did you die

No