Author Topic: Dartfordian Vignette(s)  (Read 1718 times)

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Offline CGJ

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Dartfordian Vignette(s)
« on: July 24, 2022, 11:17:21 AM »
Creating this thread to post any random, but usually mundane, stories from Dartfordia.
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Offline CGJ

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Re: Dartfordian Vignette(s)
« Reply #1 on: July 24, 2022, 11:24:36 AM »
In the depths of one of Hematite’s many Government complexes, lined with dark carpets, bright white lights and rows upon rows of desks, there was a light buzz in the air. It was Friday. 3pm on Friday, too. People were clearing out the last of their inboxes, talk was turning to the weekend, and for Julia Holden, she was about to take a two-week holiday.

Julia had joined the Department for Education a few years earlier, having spent most of her career working in the Foreign Affairs. She’d wanted a break from the diplomatic arena, so it was only natural that she’d simply ended up as Head of the International Division. She liked her job, though - her own mini-Foreign Office. It covered student exchanges, recognising qualifications, and learning from other countries about what they do.

With the last of her inbox removed, she began to gather her things, keen to get away before the Friday evening rush on the trains. An instant message popped up on her screen:
Polly Clarke, 15:16 says:
Can I call you? I think there’s been a security breach.


Taken back, Julia frowned at her screen. A breach? Is it my fault?

In a heartbeat, she popped on her headset and video called Polly.

‘Hi Polly, what’s happened?’ her question was immediate.

‘It’s uh. A weird one,’ Polly replied, ‘We sent a few letters out to some countries about mental health in schools, but one country has replied that…we didn’t write to.’

Julia sucked in a breath. ‘How sensitive were these letters?’

‘Not that sensitive, it…I mean it was just a letter asking if they had been doing any work on it and if they’d like a meeting. It was the uh…10th May one. Let me forward it.’ There was a pause. ‘Okay sent. The thing is - we’ve only sent it to 5 countries, ones we haven’t worked with before.’

In a few moments, Julia had opened up the scanned response. Odd, she mused, staring at the Chrysanthemum seal. ‘So it does look like it’s from Rokkenjima,’ she hummed quietly, ‘but I remember you’ve already had a few workshops with them, so it seems odd. I don’t recognise the official, either.’

‘Neither do I,’ Polly added, ‘I wonder if this could be fake? The title of the department is different.’

Julia nodded, ‘I see - leave it with me, it’s come from the Foreign Department, I’ll call the Rokkenjima desk there.’

A couple of minutes later she was on the phone again. ‘Hi Tom, sorry to bug you on a Friday. We’ve had a letter you’ve sent through from Rokkenjima, can I check a few details?’

‘Hey Julia, uh…’ he paused, ‘We haven’t sent your department anything this week.’

‘But we’ve got it here,’ Julia flicked back to the email, scrolling down the chain. ‘It’s come from the Ardia desk - do you know Tina?’

‘Ahhh yes,’ Tom’s voice lit up in recognition, then he laughed. ‘You are the third call today. Tina covers north-east Ardia. So Heyra, Iwi, Cassiopeia and, the problem child, Daitō.’

‘Daitō? Why are they using Rokkenjima’s seal?’

‘They’re not - they’re claiming it themselves. Theirs has 17 leaves, not 16. Or something like that. Either way, something to do with shared Ardian heritage.’

‘So now we have two countries sharing one emblem?’

‘Yep, and Tytor are going nuts apparently.’

Julia paused, and confusedly asked, ‘Tytor?’

‘That’s what their desk tells me anyway - biggest Cross-Straits crisis since Darxit. Though I suppose they are the new special relationship! Rokkenjimans aren’t happy either, so…war it is!’ he chuckled, only slightly nervously.

‘What’s our Foreign Minister said?’

‘Bemused silence, so don’t think we have to worry about launching a taskforce yet.’

They finished up their conversation, with the ever-unfulfilled promise to ‘catch-up soon.’ Julia was once again making a call.

‘Good news - no security breach!’ she exclaimed.

Polly frowned, ‘So what’s happened?’

‘Well,’ Julia chuckled, ‘Let me tell you about the most boring case of copyright infringement Mundus has ever known…’

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Offline CGJ

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Re: Dartfordian Vignette(s)
« Reply #2 on: January 30, 2023, 01:08:22 AM »
"Princess Adriana is dead."

The words hung in the air. Any energy in air zapped into the void of shock, disbelief, grief.

The Cabinet Secretary, the most senior official in Dartfordian's government, informing the Prime Minister. The Principal Private Secretary to the King informing the monarch. A chain of messages, all the same, slowly making its way to senior ministers and members of the Royal Family.

By the time the message had started to trickle, the news was breaking. Phone notifications, television stations stopping to play the national anthem, officials across the country putting in urgent 'Harland Castle' meetings to discuss their next steps.

"I didn't think it would come to that," Daniel Cleaver, the Prime Minister, said quietly. He leaned back into his chair. "We have to go along with it, I assume?"

"We do," the Cabinet Secretary replied solemnly.

Cleaver stood to face the window. "This will be the death of me, you know that?" Four months away from an election, participating in one of the biggest coverups in Mundus history. Electoral suicide. "I have to lie to my King."

"Do you wish to proceed with Operation Sandcastle?" Sandcastle was a top secret plan, devised in the last weeks, to strategically cover-up the possible faked death of Dartfordia's second-in-line. It took its name from all Royal death operation names - with each Prince or Princess having a 'castle' and the King and Queen having a 'palace'.

The Prime Minister bristled. "I don't have a choice. The King cannot know. I don't even now if the Prince and Princess of Littlebrook know." He steeled himself. "But we cannot let the Royal Family get implicated in this. they must grieve, like the nation will."

"I will need to contact the Palace," the Cabinet Secretary said, "you'll need to speak to the King. Once they've made the official announcement, the press will be outside waiting for your statement."

Cleaver thanked his official, who quietly made his leave. His speechwriter entered, none the wiser to the conversation that had just taken place, and the two began tidying up his broadcast to the nation.

A few minutes later, as his desk phone rang, he took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty," he began, never imagining his premiership would end like this. "I am so sorry for your loss."

The Most Honourable Marquess CGJ
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Dartfordia: TIOwiki - Politics - Flags - Armed Forces