The East PacificBoard

There was an old Ostarian saying that went, “running with the wind allowed you to go far.” Typically that statement meant that doing the most practical thing got you in high places. That was still the meaning, but it had been tainted. Now it seemed, to Wilfried Burkhardt, that the wind was the Honor Party and running with it was the only way you could go anywhere. A while ago, he had cast his ballot for the ÖKP. Now, he was starting to wish he had voted otherwise.

Wilfried knew the Honor Party was on the war path, and he knew they and their Honor Guard were loud, angry, bullies, but they didn’t lead him on a leash all his life just to ditch him. That’s what he felt. His party, the ÖKP that his family had trusted for generations, had backstabbed him. They had lost the war, they had trashed the economy, and now, they were clearly corrupt just as the Honor Party has claimed they were. Now he understood what the party’s base felt, what they thought.

He himself was a veteran, but an Airforce veteran from the Großer Krieg. The Airforce had gotten into as much action as the navy and the army had seen even less in the GK, and knowing that made Wilfried mad, and he wasn’t a particularly mad person. He didn’t get berated by Felterian missiles to see corrupt elitists drag his country into the out house.

And that was what he explained to his newly wedded wife at the dinner table. “You know Olivia, something’s wrong when I make half a million kroner an hour and I’m worse off then I was before the war.” His wife nodded in agreement as she put dinner on the table, grilled chicken. “We can’t even afford breading for chicken.” Olivia shrugs. “What did I tell you about the Konservatives?” She had voted Honor Party and come around to them much quicker then Wilfried had. “Prices are already a little better and thanks to the new governor’s mining operations, you aren’t driving trucks and clothes only cost a few million kroner and not 20 million kroner like they do in those red states.” She scoffs as she starts picking at her chicken. Wilfried can only nod. “Suppose you’re right, as you typically are.” Another reason he was turning away from the ÖKP is that they hadn’t even really tried to fix the economic mess, and so when he married Olivia, he had to do it in a random government room with a government pastor, and couldn’t even afford a honeymoon.

The two sit in silence for a while and eat before Wilfried gets up and heads to the fridge. “I’m grabbing a beer,” he said beer with scorn, whiskey was too expensive, “You want one honey?”

“No thanks, rather have whiskey.” She must have been thinking the same thing as well. Wilfried sits down and pops the top off and takes a swig at the beer. It tasted like crap, but there was alcohol in it, and it was cheep. Olivia sits down her fork and looks up at him. “There’s a party meeting tomorrow, I think around 3, would you be interested in going? Might get you to see what I see.” She knew he was coming around and wanted him to finally get past the corner. “Alright,” he replies, “we can go.” He stops himself from saying more, he wanted to say how the Honorite’s were crazy nutjobs, but the woman he loved was sitting right in front of him and happened to support the nutjobs. You give and you take. Olivia nods. “Good, we’ll do some cleaning and then head up there.” Wilfried smiles, one more out of custom then joy.

Cleaning. How fun.

The next day came, and the cleaning was done, but made the morning much slower. Wilfried walks over to his car and checks the gas in the tank. Half full. That should be enough. Gas prices of course kept going up, just as everything under the sun. His wife hops into the passenger seat as he hops into the driver’s seat and starts the car, driving off down the rural Grüßen roads to the nearby town of Wirz, where the Honor Party had an office. Passing by fields and getting a good look at the Gruthenic mountains, Wilfried and Olivia finally arrive at the town and park in a gravel parking lot and head to the “office,” but it looked more like a bar. That seemed common of the party. The couple walk up to it and meet the guard at the door. “Hello y’all,” the Guard says cheerfully, “ain’t seen y’all around, new to the party?”

“You could say that,” Wilfried says. “My wife voted for y’all, I’m seeing what she voted for.” The Guard, a smile so bright on his face that he looked like a puppy, steps aside. “Head on in, donations ain’t required but there’s a basket there if y’all want.” Wilfried and Olivia walk in. Inside, they see a combination of folding chairs and wooden stools set up, while a bartender serves drinks and a bearded, graying fellow who looked to be a brawler stood on top of a few wooden crates. Men and women alike talk and laugh and drink together, in a combination of civilian clothes and Party garb. Wilfried and Olivia both nod together, folks seemed fine. They find a pair of stools and sit together. A bulky man in front of them notices and turns around. “Y’all new ‘round here?” When Wilfried nods, the man extends his hand to him. “Pleasure to see new faces around here, as always.” Wilfried accepts his hand and shakes it. “My names Alek Rehn, former Lieutenant in the 15th Infantry.”

“Wilfried Burkhardt, former M-49 pilot in the 8th Carrier Squadron and this is my wife, Olivia Burkhardt.” Alek nods to her. “Again, truly a pleasure to have you here. Now, the meeting’s about to start.”

The man on top of the wooden crates waves, and whoops and shouts come from the crowd of people. “Hello, Wirz!” He says. “For all you newcomers, my name is Patrik Josten, and I serve this District and it’s people in Ruhmstadt!” The crowd claps. “Never thought we’d get there, huh,” he says it with sarcasm and a few in the crowd chuckle. This Josten fella was decent enough as a speaker. “As you can see, we’ve really shown the country what traitors in our government have done, monitoring us and all, writing down whatever word we say. You know why? Because they are afraid. They’re afraid the people, the angry people, are gonna come up and knock on marble, gilded doors and hang for the multiple accounts of treason then have committed. We’ve already started having members of the RSB arrested, and a vote on impeachment happens next time I’m up there.”

The crowd got fiery, Olivia shouts “Honor!” as loud as she can with the rest of the crowd. Wilfried found himself only clapping.

“Folks,” Josten starts again, “this is what we are all about here in the Honor Party. We want to rid the Government of traitors, and then we’ll take over and we’ll fix the economy, we’ll get the Kroner back and get all our factories back and all our farmers will profitable and then we’ll aim at the bastards who wrongs us!”

The crowd cheered even louder, Wilfried even found himself yelling the party chant. He couldn’t believe it. Was he really being seduced by this nutjob Party? Then again, he was paying 150,000 Kroner at highway tolls. The world was truly upside down. The crowd suddenly bursts into song, singing an old tune about the good times that Ostarian life brought. The singing wasn’t exactly good or in tune, but it made Wilfried feel alive. Be felt like he was part of something bigger than he was, and that his country would be at the top again someday. He couldn’t believe it, but he was singing along and so was his wife.

As the meeting ends, Wilfried nods to Olivia, who pulls out two 50,000 Kroner banknotes. It wasn’t much, but it was something. They start walking back to the car. “You know, Olivia, you’re right again,” he didn’t much care that he was conceding, he was in a good mood. “Maybe they are the party this country needs.”