Author Topic: Tales of Ikhan  (Read 365 times)

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Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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Tales of Ikhan
« on: November 05, 2020, 04:55:47 AM »
NOTICE: This thread will serve to catalogue various stories from throughout the history of the Empire of Ikhan and her constituent states. It will be used in the place of the previous thread, "the Dragon's Throne", as that one proves too restrictive for the ideas planned.


There have been many stories throughout the history of Ikhan that have been told, and many more that haven't. Some which should be spoken, and others that should not. Nonetheless, they are all important, for they are but scenes in the great story of Ikhan as a whole. These are some of these stories.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Marshal's Journal
« Reply #1 on: November 05, 2020, 07:02:30 AM »
Thunder roared across the sky one evening in 1950, subdued by it's distance. Outside, rain pelted the grounds of the Kasori palace in Ikan, which had, since 1941, been the center of the so-called "12th of April" regime under Marshal Varen Ikir. Despite ever-worsening conditions outside, its guards remained out of their post, more out of fear than respect. The last person to abandon their post had "vanished", after all. Even then, the guards had one of the most important jobs in the nation, protecting the Chancellor whom so many remained loyal to.

Inside, a man in his early seventies paced a private study which was filled with relics of a bygone age, rambling about the "old times" and his self-perceived notions of glory. The self-styled "Lord Protector" of Ikhan had seen himself as the heir to the Zharai of old, after all, being Chancellor Viras's successor gave him a claim, if tenuous, to such a title.

*TICK*

The Marshal sat down at his desk, a list lay there before him; It bore names, those who he saw as a threat. Anyone from a Duke to a lowly street-cleaner could appear on the list, simply because of the paranoid delusions of the ailing leader. He crossed out a few names on the list before pushing it aside; a grin creased his face as he felt, at least for the moment, relief. Any moment, he thought, a knife could be plunged into his back— He had to end any threat before it ended him.

*TOCK*

A clock could be heard in the room, only slightly illuminated by a dim lightbulb that, though it continued to burn, would need to be replaced soon. Nothing could last forever, after all, and time wouldn't wait for anyone.
            "I won't let it go..." Varen muttered under his breath as he looked at a suit of armor which had been put on display within the office. Despite not being a Zharai except in the eyes of himself and his most loyal of supporters, he always held a deep fascination with the class and often sought to mimic them. "I am the last of my kind... The last Zharai. Not any of the posers in Vrashe or Hashtai. Me." He said as he grabbed his journal.

*TICK*

The Marshal began writing, almost frantic in his pace as he did so. He occasionally glanced around the room; outside, footsteps could be heard, muffled by the doors. It was getting rather late, but that didn't matter to him. He thought, for a time, about the loss of his beloved grandson in the war, of the grief it brought that had, though not apparent to him, led to further damage to his psyche. Part of him doubted, however, that his grandson had actually died, and believed rather that he had been taken by the Ardians into captivity, kept alive merely to torment him. It didn't matter that the Ardian Empire had fallen, of course, for he didn't care about that fact in the face of what he perceived as reality.

Nonetheless, the Marshal continued writing, tears welling up in his eyes even as he did so. Deep down, despite his delusions, part of him almost certainly knew the truth.

*TOCK*

Varen placed his pen aside and got up from the desk, leaving his journal open as he left the room and retired for the night. He could always continue later, after all.

The journal entry, dated September 3rd, 1950, read as follows:
Quote
Release the mind of that which troubles you; detach from that which surrounds and seek peace. — Berai Tsakan, 1102

HE IS HERE
I CAN SENSE HIM BUT HE DOES NOT SPEAK
EREL WHY DO YOU HIDE
WHY DID YOU LEAVE US
SPEAK TO ME SPEAK TO ME SPEAK TO ME
COME HOME EREL
COME HOME

ISHEN WHY
I AM YOUR SUBJECT I AM THE SALVATION OF IKHAN
I AM NOT TERISI I AM NOT A MURDERER I DID ONLY WHAT YOU ASKED OF ME
I HAVE PUNISHED ONLY THOSE WHO WOULD KEEP MY GRANDSON FROM COMING HOME
WHY MUST THEY KEEP MY PROGENY
LET HIM COME HOME

Your Lordship, had I known that the actions taken would lead to this, I would've

COME HOME COME HOME
EREL PLEASE
RETURN HOME"

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Assembly
« Reply #2 on: December 08, 2020, 02:59:52 PM »
It was warm afternoon in Ikan, just a few minutes past three o'clock, and this particular session in the National Diet seemed as though it would never end. For the last few weeks, the government had effectively ground to a halt as its governing coalition began to collapse. It was obvious, despite his previous administration's own success back in '08, that the Prime Minister's days were numbered. Honestly, Jishek couldn't think of any other deputy that didn't think that, based on the general demeanor of the chamber. It was only a matter of time before one of them proposed moving forwards with some action against the new administration, the only question that remained was who would take that first step.
            "You should do something, Jishek. It's only right, y'know?" Aren, his colleague and personal friend of six years, muttered as he looked at his fellow deputy. "I know you've no love for the Prime Minster, given his lack of support for serious action against Tamora and other slave-states."
            "How he got the position, I have no idea. His previous administration was a disgrace." Jishek sighed as he looked around the room. Clearly, he wasn't the only one having such a conversation at this point, after all, many shared his feelings despite the popular support for him at the time. "But... I suppose that's populism for you. Even a monster can win in this system, if he plays it right." He noted as he listened to one deputy after another speak. It almost seemed as though it never end, as though no real progress would actually be made. In the meantime, he wrote down exactly what he would say when he actually got the chance to take the floor. Whatever he did, he could rest assured, knowing he would have the support of much of the Chamber when he did it. What he wasn't certain of, however, were where the coming power-plays within his own party that would follow would lead.

After nearly thirty minutes had passed, Jishek would finally rise from his seat, looking around the room once more. There was an almost eerie silence that had fallen over them, as though many of them were anticipating exactly what he was about to say, as well as what it would entail.
            "Mr. Speaker, it has become clear that the current situation can and will not be maintained. While we sit here arguing over petty squabbles such as who should be on the Prime Minister's cabinet, we have people in Kitenai still in need of relief following the disaster back in '18. We have people out on the streets demanding reforms that should've been implemented decades ago. I have little doubt you'll hear them when this session is adjourned later today, as we all have for the last six days." Jishek began, looking down at his notes one last time. "If Prime Minister Kaval cannot, however, negotiate with the other parties in his coalition, then what reason do we have to expect the same of his administration? How long will it be, if we are able to deal with this present crisis, that we will have to go through this again? A few weeks? Maybe three months at best? Need I remind you that his previous administration has showed us that we will not be able to accomplish what we need to do?" He sighed, almost hesitant about what he was about to say. After all, he was about to make history, and even he didn't know where this path would lead. "No. We cannot suffer this administration to continue as it is now. To quote my great great-Grandfather, the venerable Esik Viras, 'A divided government with a leader who does not represent the nation's best interests at its head cannot, for the good of the people, be permitted to exist.' These words have, after all these years, rung true. It is for that reason that I, with a heavy heart, formally request that a motion of no-confidence be voted upon by this Assembly." He finished, looking around the room one last time. While there was some applause, more people remained silent, almost stunned that such a motion was even being requested, even though most every one of them knew that it was warranted. With that, he sat down and awaited the results.

And so, the great game begins.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Response
« Reply #3 on: December 09, 2020, 04:35:57 AM »
Impatiently, Ashot paced around his office, listening attentively as the Chamber of Deputies continued voting on what would potentially be his own removal. Each word, each number, each vote... They all were the same in his mind. After all, they were, by all means, attempting to overturn a legitimate election just because of, though he didn't admit it himself, his own failures to negotiate the establishment of a governing coalition going forwards. No, it wasn't his fault, that would be too easy. Rather, in his eyes, it was sabotage by other members of his party, an effort to seize power for themselves. And he knew he had to do something about it.
            "Traitors, all of them!" He shouted, staring at the television, upon which a live feed of the meeting was in view. "They sabotage my attempts to unify the country, and now they are trying to take power for themselves!" He ranted; of course, there was no real response as anyone else in the room was too afraid to say a word. "Maybe Ikir was right, trusting in the system to do what is needed has only brought failure and humiliation! But..." He hesitated, looking around the room. Everyone else was stunned by what he had just said, after all, saying that the long-disgraced ex-dictator is taboo even to this day. "...What am I supposed to do? I can't just refuse to acknowledge their decision. If... If I could somehow get the backing of the Emperor... I could have a large part of the military on my side. After that, all that I need to do is dismiss the National Assembly and put the city under martial law..."  He thought, though he spoke aloud in order to fully process what he was saying.

And so, he continued for a few more minutes, all the while the votes continued. After a while, he left the building, heading for the Imperial Palace. He couldn't afford to lose power after all, not after all the work that'd already been done at least.

And so, yet another piece was set into motion.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Meeting
« Reply #4 on: December 09, 2020, 06:26:42 AM »
The Ikaiyan Imperial Palace loomed overhead, cast in shadow as the moon shone barely through the clouds. It was a cold evening, not too long after Dusk, and life seemed rather normal for Arkan, even though he was certainly concerned by the recent developments regarding the crisis in the National Assembly. Truth was, even though he technically wasn't supposed to take sides on this matter, he simply couldn't support the new Prime Minister's administration in good faith. If not for his... troublesome views regarding Tamora and other states in the region, then the failures of his previous administration had done it for him. That said, he had, in his eyes, the soon-to-be displeasure of meeting with him, as Kaval had scheduled a last-minute meeting with him set for tonight.

As he strolled through the palace garden, he looked up at the moon, the only semblance of a natural sky in the city these days. What he'd do just to behold the stars here, like he did in the blackouts of his childhood. And then, as he contemplated his life, a servant interrupted him.
            "Your Lordship?" He asked, bowing deeply in reverence.
            "Yes, Kosro?" Arkan responded, getting a good look at the Avosai, dressed in an elegant suit as befit someone of his station. "Actually, let me guess, he is here?"
            "Yes, your Lordship." The servant— Kosro— replied, following it up with "He's waiting for you in your study, sir."
            "Thank you, Kosr-" He was interrupted; in centuries past this would've been a great offense, but Arkan was anything but his ancestors. No, he'd be patient and hear him out, after all, he had been appointed to assist him back when he was very young and thus, even though he was his superior, he had a distinct sense of respect for the old man.
            "And sir, if I may say this..." Kosro said after accidentally interrupting him. "...Good luck. Prime Minister Kaval seemed... agitated when he arrived, to say the very least." He finished, after which he escorted Arkan to the study.

The study was filled with all sorts of artwork, ranging from swords made centuries ago to the most modern of statues and everything in between. In a way, the eclectic study seemed simultaneously from the 16th, 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries at once, a testament to the history of the building and the Empire as a whole. But there was something, no, someone who was, in Arkan's eyes, an affront to that legacy now present here. Though he would try to be polite, he knew whatever Ashot had to say, it wasn't something he would be likely to enjoy.
            "Ah, Ashot... Good to see you. How's the wife?" Arkan asked, putting on a smile and watching the man closely. If he could just remain cordial, then maybe they'd get through this situation without the conversation devolving into a sparring match of various insults and beliefs. He just needed to disarm him...
            "She's well, very well. We plan to visit the Akarasin this spring, get a few days away from that absolutely dreadful office." Ashot responded, following it up with what he actually wanted to say. "Anyways, I won't waste your time anymore than I have to. I need your consent for something."
            "Oh? And what is that?" Arkan asked, faking surprise as that's all that anyone ever seemed to visit for. Always "approve this" or "do that", never just a chance to actually talk to someone about something that wasn't related to the government. "You know I really don't have much that you can't do yourself, right?"
            "Well, that's the thing... I need you to formally recognize my leadership over Ikhan. Get those dogs in the National Assembly off my tail for a while, at least." Ashot said, not entirely saying why he wanted it. "Make it clear that I am acting on your behalf." He added, which only got a sigh from Arkan.
            "Listen, Ashot. I'm going to be blunt with you, and I'm not going to say it twice: I will not give you control over the military just so you can stage a coup against a democratically elected institution, let alone turn myself into your puppet. What you are suggesting, seeing as I need to remind you, is treaso-" He was interrupted, this time by Ashot instead of someone he was actually okay with.
            "Spirits, it's not treason. I'd simply be restoring order to the country when it needs it most. You might even be able to regain some of that power your ancesto-" Ashot tried to say before he was interrupted in turn. It was on.
            "How dare you invoke them. You come into my household, disrespect my forebears by challenging the system they worked so hard for, and you even openly admit you're wanting to send tanks down Ikas square, just so you can hold onto power? Who the fuck do you think you are!?"
            "I am the Prime Minister of the Empire of Ikhan, the executor of the will of the people. I have served the state since before you were born and since your father was young. You, on the other hand, are just a rich child given more power than you deserve! You have never served our country as I have! Half of those medals you earned were because you were the Emperor's son!"
            "You're one to talk, given that all you did in your brief term as Prime Minister was nearly undo the work your predecessor had done in the wake of the Financial Crisis of '03. I, on the other hand, had to work for every promotion I earned serving in the Army. And what did you do in that time? You sat around, letting others do the job because you were incapable of it. Now. Get. Out." He said before leaving the room, having much work do do now that he knew exactly what Kaval wanted. Once out of the room, he would turn to Kosro, who had been waiting there for him, and would say "Get me Marshal Kataran on the line... We've got work to do.

Prime Minister Kaval, now realizing that his first plan wouldn't work, realized he had only one chance left. Seeing as he had been able to formally have his chief of the Esat— A loyalist by the name of Berai Hasak— approved, he could just use them instead.

The clock is edging ever nearer to midnight

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Call
« Reply #5 on: December 09, 2020, 09:34:13 PM »
Arkan Kataran sat in his office a few kilometers outside of Ikan, focused on paperwork even late into the night. As cold wind blew against the window as he continued, and then, he recieved a call; The number alone sent chills down his spine, as if they were calling him, then something was afoot.
            "...This is Marshal Kataran." He said, awaiting a response. Every millisecond that passed felt stretched into hour as he waited, nervous about what was going on.
            "Marshal, there is something I would like to report" The voice said on the other end, immediately recognizable to just about anyone in Ikhan at this point. It was, after all, that of the Emperor himself.
            "And what would that be, your Lordship?" The Marshal asked, on one hand intrigued and on the other concerned greatly.
            "Regarding Prime Minister Kaval, he... He came to visit earlier in an attempt to get my support for something." The Emperor paused; though only barely audible, a sigh could be heard. "It is, based on what he said, my understanding that he wishes to use military force to secure his position."
            "That's... concerning, sir. What exactly would you like me to do about it?" Arkan asked him, starting to realize what may be necessary.
            "Nothing yet, Arkan. Just ignore any orders he gives you and stand by. If he refuses to give up the position in the event that the National Assembly formally removes him, then, and only then are you to take action. Am I clear?" The Emperor said in a calm, if frustrated, tone. This was, after all, not something he wanted to have done, and it was entirely unprecedented before this point.
            "Yes sir. I will do as you ask." Arkan said, and then the line went dead.

With all the pieces now in motion, the great game can only end one way.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Silence
« Reply #6 on: December 12, 2020, 12:25:32 AM »
It was early in the morning, a few days after the vote to remove Prime Minister Kaval had passed, and an eerie quiet had fallen over the nation, especially the city of Ikhan. Though life continued ever-onwards, fear over what was yet to come had gripped many including Erel Kosa and his family. Whether it had been the appearance of agents of the Esat in key points across the city or the cease in regular broadcasts by the major news channels, with most every channel just playing various scenes of the nation accompanied by patriotic music. This was accompanied by a message, one which claimed the opposite of the actual situation on the ground.
Quote
Remain calm.
The Emperor endures.
Ikhan lives.
The Arashin Empire shall endure.
There is much work yet to be done."

Erel was no fool, however, after all, having spent years in the Esat had taught him that much at least. Something had to have gone catastrophically wrong if his former compatriots were out on the streets now and a near-complete radio silence had been put in place. But what? What had happened? Sure, the Prime Minister had been voted out, but that should've been it. Maybe someone important got shot? Maybe even the Emperor? No. Now was not the time for baseless theories, but rather to keep his head down. Wait until something— anything— happened. With luck, it wouldn't be too long.

A great shadow has fallen across Ikhan, and only the truth will be able to pierce it. But for now, people wait, anxious of what is next to come.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Broadcast
« Reply #7 on: December 12, 2020, 01:33:53 AM »
He had actually done it. The traitor had actually attempted to seize power through whatever means he had necessary. And if nothing was done, then it would be the same as if Arkan had actually approved this move. He knew that, and that was why he was preparing to do what he had to. If the News Services were down, then he would find a way to get the word out, this time in a more... modern fashion. At approximately 12:00, when most everyone wasn't working, he would strike.

And so, the hours passed, and eventually, the time would come. On channels across Ikhan, over every mode of communication possible, his voice would be transmitted, informing anyone who would listen what the truth was. And many would certainly be listening; if even half of them would take heed, then it would be a success. And so, it began.

            "My fellow citizens, I come before you now not as your Emperor, nor as some far away politician, but as a brother to all of you. I know that, in years past, my forebears would not speak so directly to you, but... These are extraordinary times. If I may speak candidly, the present situation is not supported by the National Government. Rather, the traitor, "Prime Minister" Ashot Kaval, has, through subterfuge and almost certainly other means, managed to gain the support of a sizeable contingent of the Esat, through which he has gained control over Ikan and many other cities across Ikhan. He has claimed that he acts on my behalf, but know that I have never supported a man the likes of him. No. He is a traitor to the nation and to it's people, to the ideals of our ancestors and the dream forged in 1899. Henceforth, I am invoking Article 9 of the 13th amendment to the Ikhani Constitution and declare that Ashot Kaval and his "government" are enemies of the state— Enemies which must be expunged. Fear not, for though we are travelling through darkness, the light at the end of the tunnel is growing closer. Thank you for your time, and I shall provide further updates as time permits. May the Kani preserve Ikhan in this trying time."

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The March
« Reply #8 on: December 12, 2020, 05:47:10 AM »
It was yet another early morning in Ikan, eerily silent as a curfew had fallen over the city. Despite the frequent messages from the Emperor encouraging people to maintain faith that this was but a passing moment in the history of Ikhan, most didn't know what else to do. Jishek wasn't one of those people. Despite having been prevented from fulfilling his work in the national assembly after the Esat blocked entry, he was thankfully not arrested, something to do with the respect afforded to him for his lineage— his grandfather and great great-grandfather had both been significantly influential politicians in their days— and yet, it seemed as though maybe the "Prime Minister" were toying with him. Though he hadn't been able to fulfill his work within the National Assembly, he hadn't been idle. He had, in fact, made repeated visits to both the Imperial Palace and to military bases across the region, seeking to coordinate a response to this new threat. And besides that, he had also been delivering speeches across the city, seeking to maintain the spirits of the people in trying times such as these. At first light, today, he was going to make his move. He was going to stage a protest. Demonstrate to the traitor that he had lost the mandate of the people. And perhaps, Kani willing, it would be enough. Otherwise, it would provide the perfect cover for the Military to storm the building and remove him by force.

7:14--
            "Time to go." He said to himself as he stood outside of the door. What were the odds, he thought, that he'd get arrested? Probably at least 50/50, once the protest went into full swing. It didn't matter to him if he were arrested, beaten, tortured, and killed. After all, so long as good men die, liberty would always triumph, eventually. He found himself reflecting on the words of his ancestor, written over a century ago. "A government not supported by its subjects will fall into chaos, but a legislature which represents its subjects and changes according to their needs will live on. A state cannot last when its people are divided against it." He wrote, and those words rung true especially today. Change would have to come, but only the right way. Not this way. Never this way. And so, he began; soon enough, he would be accompanied by other, likeminded individuals from the National Assembly, both the Chamber of Deputies and Senate alike. All in all, it was a rather motley band, but it'd have to do, at least for starters.

7:30--
So far, the group had made it about a quarter of the way to the Kasori palace, now the official residence of the Prime Minister, which included the illegitimate one. Granted, this was because they were taking a longer route, in the hopes of gathering further attention from the public. And so far, it was working. The crowd had nearly doubled in number so far, and it was only inevitable that it was going to continue to grow. Shouts of "Down with the traitors!" among others could be heard erupting from it, as well as other spontaneous protests elsewhere in the city, if Jishek were to hazard a guess.
            "Didn't think I'd wind up imitating my Grandfather..." Jishek said, though it was barely heard as they continued to move forwards.
            "The whole situation's unprecedented." Another person in the crowd said in response, to which Jishek didn't reply, not yet. "Hope they can get the media on this. Let it be remembered for the rest of history."

7:46--
By Jishek's reckoning, the group was about half-way there by now. At least 2.7 kilometers to go. Even though it weren't important now, he couldn't help but think about how this would be a great walking route, once this mess was all over and the crisis was at it's end. By this point, however, as fighter-jets screamed overhead, it really began to set in for him— They were about to make history, though not necessarily in a good way. While the military was theoretically tasked with the maintenance of the democratic process in the event that something were to go awry, it had, thankfully, never been required. But this was different. Even in '52, they didn't have to be called in, though it wouldn't've happened anyways due to their conflicting loyalties at the time. If all went according to plan, which it almost certainly wouldn't, they wouldn't be needed. And so, into the lion's den they marched.

8:02--
They were getting close now. The Esat agents had, after all, begun to appear with greater frequency than before. What was curious, however, was that many hadn't even been ordered to do so; rather, they seemed to be doing this in spite of their orders. If even his supposed loyalists were turning, then the only ones left would be the most loyal, and therefore, the most dangerous. This, of course, led to some people to have doubts within the crowd, though it wouldn't be enough to stop this.
            "Odd that they're joining us—"
            "You think they'll actually help, or just arrest us?"
            "I dunno, just keep moving. They can't get all of us."
            "Oh, I guess you're right. I just can't be getting arrested again."

8:18--
The palace loomed ahead of them, tall and mighty, it was a major landmark in Ikhan that dated back over a millennium by this point. And of course, ahead of them, heavily-armed members of the Esat were waiting, fully decked out in riot gear and forming a barricade in front of the palace. Things looked like they were about to get bloody, after all, these men were supplemented by members of the Prime Minister's personal guard as well, who were particularly dangerous as they carried firearms themselves. It was, in that moment, that he thought that everything was lost. Then, he got a text that simply read "Look south, cavalry's on it's way."

Of course, that only meant one thing, as that was the phrase decided in a prior meeting to indicate when support would arrive. Soon enough, a great rumbling could be heard as the military finally arrived, complete with a column of tanks and enough firepower to easily overwhelm any opposition that would be in the area. And yet, they would not fire, after all, rules of engagement still applied even now. It was now down to who would fire the first shot, at least, it would if the "Prime Minister" didn't surrender. Not long afterwards, a helicopter could be heard flying overhead, heading towards the palace grounds, soon to be followed by a brief exchange of gunfire. Time seemed to freeze. What exactly had happened?

Had something gone wrong, or perhaps it was finally over?
« Last Edit: December 12, 2020, 04:24:34 PM by Arkan VI ve Sherkoz »

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Fall
« Reply #9 on: December 12, 2020, 10:52:50 PM »
It was quite hard to hear over the shouts outside, but Ashot nonetheless attempted to focus on his job. After all, in time, the Army would come to sweep them away, and then the real work could begin. So many had turned against him, however, which was certainly concerning, but if that was the way things had to go, then he would have to... deal with them in time. For now, however, he prepared himself, just in case he were to not make it through the day. He found himself looking at the sheet of paper that lay on his desk, waiting for him to fulfill that most peculiar of traditions undertaken by people of his position when facing death. And so, he took up a pen and began writing, as he was prepared to fight until the last.
            "Though the hour of my death approaches..." He said aloud as he began, staring down at the paper. "...I have sought only the betterment of Ikhan. Let none say that I was unjust, that I was cruel, for only the Kani will judge me, and they shall find my cause just and true." He said before gripping his pistol, a H/V-21, hearing a helicopter come to a hover just outside, followed by indistinct shouting. His guards should've been able to handle them, but if they were willing to use force, then it was now, after all this time, over. And yet, despite the expected gunfire, it was... quiet. Too quiet, actually. Then, a loud banging noise was heard on the door, followed by a voice.
            "Prime Minister Kaval, we have a warrant for your arrest on grounds of a class-A violation of the 1914 Treason and Sedition act, as well in keeping with the declaration made under Article 9 of the thirteenth amendment. You can come willingly as your compatriots have, or we can remove you from the premises by force. The choice is yours." The voice said; it was clear he wasn't a member of his guard. Maybe Gendarmerie or Spec Ops? Whatever the case may have been, Ashot only saw this as him being betrayed to the last man. And so, he did not answer, rather, he took the gun off safety and pointed it at the door; after all, he was more than ready to go out fighting rather than suffer the indignity of a show trial. "So be it." the voice said after a minute, after which a great crash was heard before the door was breached.
            "For the fatherland..." Ashot muttered as he pulled the trigger, hoping he might at least delay the inevitable. Soon enough, the crack of gunfire erupted through the room, gone as soon as it began. Ashot, though not dead, was going to need immediate medical attention if he were to survive. For him, it was now finally over, and yet, he did not know where the future would lead. But before he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard the voice again, one last time.
            "Akat 3, Esko EWIA*, repeat, EWIA." The voice said as Ashot's consciousness faded; he couldn't be certain whether he had heard anything before then, but it mattered not. It was over.

Though the head of the serpent is suffered, there is much work to be done.


*EWIA - Enemy Wounded in Action
« Last Edit: December 14, 2020, 03:24:47 AM by Arkan VI ve Sherkoz »

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Dream
« Reply #10 on: December 15, 2020, 12:45:59 AM »
There was great confusion in the moments directly after gunfire was heard erupting from the inside of the Kasori palace, accompanied by great apprehension as people awaited news of what had happened. It was almost as if, at least for Jishek, this moment had been dragged out into an hour before, over the radio onboard one of the tanks that had taken position nearby, a voice came through.
            "Akat 3, Esko EWIA, repeat, EWIA." The voice said, though somewhat garbled. While this brought some elation to the crowd, Jishek was still hesitant himself, after all, they couldn't be sure until another confirmed what he had said. Yet again, the wait seemed to take forever, yet it would prove to be worth it, ultimately.
            "Akat 1, confirmed visual, target designate 'Esko' EWIA... We got him." Another voice said, seemingly confirming what the former had said. "Moving for exfil asap." The voice said before going silent. For the first time in nearly a week, Jishek felt relieved. There wouldn't need to be an intervention by a foreign power or an ally of Ikhan, nor would it fall once more into oppression at the hands of an insane tyrant. Now, instead, was the time for a new start. And soon enough, his own words would reach... millions, at least, across the world. It would, however, be at least a few minutes before then. Give the crowd enough time to calm down and all.

A few minutes later--

It was finally time, time to state the intentions of the government going forwards in the absence of a clear leader, beyond the ceremonial role that the Emperor performed, at least. They weren't about to trade one dictator from their ranks just to replace him with one who, though maybe benevolent, would still hold absolute power. No. He had to assure not only his people, but those of surrounding countries, that though Ikhan now was without a Prime Minister, the new government would be seen as a direct continuation of the pre-coup one. And as members of the media gathered around the area, Jishek, ever the one for a bit of flair, climbed atop one of the tanks so as to give his speech.
            "My fellow citizens, today, we have proven to ourselves many things, as well as to those abroad." Jishek began. "Even now, as my voice reaches out beyond our fatherland, we rejoice in knowing that this task of ours is finally at it's end. But though we have eliminated a threat to our nation, know that this is only the beginning. The actions taken by Ashot Kaval have exposed in Ikhan a corruption that stretches deep into the very roots of our homeland. It has shown that power has, since the signing of the constitution, slowly but surely been taken into the hands of a select few, rather than be divided among the branches as the writers intended..." He paused, hesitating as he looked at his notes for a brief moment. "...But this crisis has proven more than just the flaws of our country. No. It has also shown to us that among the people, the dream of our ancestors for a truly free Ikhan, one founded in the ideals of unity, justice, and liberty, is certainly alive and well among the youth of our brave land." He continued, now looking at the crowd, taking in all the cheering he saw and heard. "Now, however, is not a time to seek retribution against his attempted regime, but a time to rebuild. We are a divided people, but we have today shown that when we work together, anything can be achieved. Today, we have shown that, though the road ahead will be difficult, freedom shall not perish from the world so long as we fight to preserve it!" He concluded, and so it was done. The future awaits.

And so, the New Ikhan is born.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Sentencing
« Reply #11 on: December 24, 2020, 05:17:20 PM »
Nearly two weeks had passed since the attempted coup had taken place, and the Ikhani judicial system had been put into overdrive as a result. Normally, a trial such as this would take at least a month, but in light of the overwhelming evidence against the former Prime Minister, as well as the necessity of reestablishing order within the nation, it was shaping up to be one of the greatest tests of the system since it was established. Quite frankly, however, the trial was little more than a formality, almost everyone there had already agreed that Prime Minister Kaval was guilty. They just needed to grant their decision legitimacy in the eyes of the people.

By this point, however, with the pronouncement that he was guilty, Ashot could only wait for their decision on how he would be punished. Though it was but wishful thinking, he hoped that he might get off with a few years in prison. Again, that was nothing more than hope, as treason was, at least based on precedent, often a death sentence if found guilty as he was. The best he could hope for was life imprisonment without a chance for parole.
            "Mr. Kaval, do you have anything left to say before we proceed?" The judge asked; this was abnormal, as typically the judge would skip straight to the sentencing. What was he playing at?
            "Only that the actions I have taken are in the service of the state, your honour." Ashot responded, which did not receive much of a response.
            "Then I have the solemn duty of formally pronouncing you guilty of using your position as Prime Minister to plot against the Empire of Ikhan with the goal of forwarding the interests of hostile powers, of attempting to override the powers of the National Assembly in the service of your own personal interests, of attempting to overthrow the legitimate government of the Empire of Ikhan, and crimes against the state and the Ikhani people." The judge then said, looking at Ashot as he placed his hand on a ceremonial dagger only used in the court. "For these crimes, there is only one sentence." He continued, firmly gripping it. Time seemed to stop for Ashot, the moment that he lifted the knife from the desk dragged on into eternity. In the eyes of the state, he was already dead. "You are sentenced to death, though by what means we leave in your hands, in light of your former position." He concluded, and so, it was done. At best, given what he had done, Ashot knew he had only a few days left to live, and they would be spent in a cell far, far away from those he knew. Such was the way of his people, such was the way it had to end. Now, all that was left was for justice to be done.

It was now time to excise the source of the crisis.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The End (IRP Date is 1/24/2021)
« Reply #12 on: December 25, 2020, 02:25:23 AM »
The cell was rather dark, and yet it felt spacious to Ashot. It had been a month since he had been sentenced to die, and this was to be his final day. He was lucky, most inmates on death row would wait much longer than he did, and he even had a window to see the landscape outside. To think, from the walls of his prison, here atop a mountain in the Feltasi range, he could see as far as the Ardian gulf to the north. And then, a knock on the door to his cell resounded through the walls, and he knew at that moment that it was time. Though a traitor to his people, as they often claimed, he had been offered an honorable death, one befitting someone of his station. If he was going to die today, it would be by his own hands, and the court was willing to accept that.
            "Prime Minister Kaval, it is time." The guard said, for a change respectfully for the ex-prime minister. In the month that he had been locked away, Ashot had time to grapple with his decision, and ultimately, he had come to a conclusion, deranged as he was. He understood, in a way, that he had been wrong to do it, and that what he had done had put the nation in jeopardy.
            "...I am ready." He said as he approached the door, hesitant as he knew the moment he walked through the door, there was no going back. He had failed in his duty, brought shame and dishonour upon his family name, and now, he would atone for it with his blood. And so, as the door opened, he stepped through.

A few minutes later, and under close supervision, he would arrive in the chamber, little more than a repurposed basement from decades long passed. In each corner, an armed guard stood, and in the middle, a blade lay, resting on the floor. Next to it, a pair of sticks of incense were burning, as was the tradition. Like a Zharai of old, he would die with honor in traditions deeply revered. This was the price of his betrayal, and he was ready to pay it. Besides, if he didn't, then one of the guards would shoot him anyways. This was the end of the line, whether he liked it or not.

As he knelt in front of the dagger, he took a moment to write down something "poetic" (at least in the sense that the Arashin view poetry) about his death. He had already done this once before, back when he planned to take his life on the day his world came crashing down, but this time... There was a sense of finality. This was genuinely it. And so, he began to write, for every last moment of his life had led to this moment.
Quote
Boldly, I march forwards,
Drum-beat marking each step.
I know now where the road shall lead,
but I have learned now not to ask "Why?"
Soon, I shall return home,
whereupon I shall say goodbye."
The message said as he picked up the blade. Though he had written that down, he had one last thing to say, to mark a final end to his long life.
            "Long live the Emperor!" He shouted, and then he fell on his blade. It was finished.

And so, the traitor met his end. Yet though he had passed away, the damage he had done would last far beyond him. Now, it was time to rebuild.

Offline Arkan VII ve Sherkoz

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The Warrior
« Reply #13 on: April 04, 2021, 12:41:41 AM »
Nearly fifty years had passed since the last emperor had fallen, and in the vacuum left behind, the land had suffered. Ashot had, for his short, eighteen-year existence, known nothing but strife. And yet, on the eve of battle, as his master, the Great Lord Vahram, made ready for one last push, there was hope. Hope that soon, the bloodshed would come to an end. And come dawn, in the shadow of the Holy Mountain of Akran— Mount Feltas— the new master of Arashkai would be determined. For tomorrow, the army of Esik Kamai was to be destroyed, and the pretenders of the Khushain state were to perish. Blood would be spilled, and men would die, but for the generations who would follow, life would be devoid of such horrors.

As he sat by his campfire, joined by some others, he spoke of his dreams, of his life, of how he wanted to marry a girl he was sweet on back home, and of course of how he looked forwards to the celebrations that would come after the battle. But of course, though he was not Zharai, he knew not to expect to survive. Thankfully, he had been trained as well as he could've been, at least for a levy. If, by some miracle, he survived, he could be made one of his lord's retainers, making him and his family part of the nobility. But who knew? As he grew weary, he would fall asleep. The battle would soon be upon him.

Drums sounded through the valley as men clad in brilliantly-shining armor marched into their deaths. Ashot would've been lying if he said he didn't feel fear in that moment. Tall pines loomed above, casting more of a shadow than even the mountains. Then, the drums stopped, and so did everyone else. Then, a different drum-beat, and the front line, the one that he was on, raised their spears, pointing them forwards. Then the drum-beat resumed as before, and they began to march forwards once more. Just across the way, a few hundred meters from them, the enemy waited. They continued their approach, orderly and steadfast, even as they knew many would not survive. The first arrows flew, striking a few around Ashot, but he was sparred by this volley. The screams of the dying and the wounded haunted the area, but they still continued forwards. And then, as they drew close enough that he could hear the shouts of the enemy, a loud thunderous roar filled the air, fire and smoke emerging from the enemy line. Ashot never knew what hit him, for he would collapse to the ground, and would never draw breath again.

Even to their graves, the warriors of the soon-to-be Vakhet Eshva would march, and through their determination, the Empire would be united.