Seaside Palace, Canissia
The Blue Wing of the Palace was so named because of the way it melded into the blue waters of an inlet pool, cleverly heated with geothermal piping from a nearby spring. The Blue Wing of the Palace was ground floor, but managed ot have a spectacular view nonetheless. King Arik Coyotus-I, of the Royal People's Republic of Canissia, generally made this part of the guest quarters of the Palace-- but when there were no guests, he liked to lounge here himself.
He'd developed a headache reading the reports today. For the first time, many of the folders he read were yellow folders relating to various Slavic nations nearby. The Slavic Confederacy, usually a fairly well-coordinated group, were having a great deal of trouble with the USSR invading a nearby semi-failed state-- and that had caused great consternation with the CSR, who'd sent in troops as well, and with PeZookia, who'd seen an influx of refugees pouring across their borders.
That made it potentially Canissia's problem, as well, with the recent open border agreement.
Business interests, in the form of the Libertarian Party, were on his back not to reverse the border deal. Nationalist Party interests, who never liked th edeal but dealt with it, were now howling for the closure of the border. The Labor Party also wanted the border closed, fearing an influx of cheap refugee workers willing to undermine their wages. Only the Greens Party seemed unconcerned, and was trying to find a way to work the situation to their advantage. King Arik, as
de facto head of the Royalist Party by dint of being the sitting monarch, was trying to balance the various political tides around him.
He'd hoped that the shade of the Blue Wing of the Palace would calm him, but the crashing of the waves only reminded him of the arguments in the National Assembly over the situation. The Royal Maritime Border Guards had already intercepted a small boat full of refugees and turned them back, not knowing what to do with them. Human rights advocates had howled; Nationalists, Labor and Libertarians had cheered.
"Thank God we're not involved in Frequesnean politics, at least," he muttered, looking at the folders. His wife Isabelle joined him, smiling, but concerned.
"Yes, my dear?" he asked, "You have that look."
"I know," she said, "I need to let you know, things here at home are turbulent," Isabelle said. "The people on the street see the CSR as little better than the USSR, sending in troops under the guise of stability... nevermind the facts, " she said, "You know how fickle the media can be. That's the picture being painted."
"I intend to stay out of Slavic politics as much a spossible. It's their ball game."
"It is," Isabelle said, "But we're close to the foul line, and every time the ball goes over the line, we tend to get hit. The refugee crisis is causing a lot of resentment. If we turn them back, we're being cruel; if we let them in..."
"We'll have a flood of refugees, all seeking handouts," the King said, "And we can ill afford that."
"Is there a way we can take in some refugees on, say... special work visas?" she asked. "Provided they have skilled labor backgrounds, that is."
"We could," Arik said, "But they'll be few and far between. Those microstates are disorganized kleptocracies at best, there hasn't been much higher education there for some time." The King sat back and sipped at his morning coffee. In an hour, it would be lunchtime, and after a light meal of traditional houmous, pita, and vegetables, he'd switch to beer. Under the circumstances, he looked forward to it.
"Really, about the only thing I could do with them is establish a Foreign Legion for the young and healthy ones," he said. "Useful as they'd be, though, the public relations blow --'foreign mercenary corps', the press would call it-- isn't worth it."
"Especially with the stalemate in Shepistan being what it is," Isabelle said. Arik didn't say anything. The stalemate in Shepistan had been his biggest headache so far, and protests of epic proportions had been a constant in the city since the war started. The Slavic problem had served to deflect some attention, but Arik knew it was just a temporary respite.
"It's only a matter of time," he said, sighing, "Before people start calling for the Army to return so we can deal with the CSR," he said. "They already don't like the CSR because of the damn nukes issue..."
"It goes beyond that," Isabelle said, "There are editorials in today's papers calling for Canissia to leave the MESS. The people don't like being used as instruments of the Old Dominion's foreign policy. They see the war between them and Shepistan as an ongoing problem that will drag us in every few years."
"The MESS is a protective alliance," Arik said.
"Don't tell me, I agree," Isabelle said, "But let's face it, Shepistan will never play nice. Right now there's a strong isolationist movement running through the country. The Nationalists are saying we should cut ties to the MESS and work with PeZookia and Shroomania exclusively. Form a three-way alliance with them for mutual, regional protection, and get rid of everyone else."
"Simplistic solution to difficult problems," Arik said. Isabelle gave him a look of mild rebuke.
"Hon, you know I'm a member of the NP myself," she said, "There's some substance to what they say. The MESS almost dragged us into a conflict in the FTO with that Tian Jia situation. King Paul is having a hard time with this USSR situation. Shroomania is one of our closest trade partners... and you can't deny the truth about Shepistan, either."
"I understand," Arik said, "I'm not blowing off your concerns, or the Nationalists. It's just... we need to see what kind of agreement we can come to with Shepistan now before we make any decisions."
Results:
Politics dogs Canissia.
