The East PacificBoard

No word in the dictionary could describe the amount of joy, albeit rather predatory, that Oskar Eroberer felt. He had gotten through the Easarion Front. He had gotten through the army cuts. He had gotten through the economic crisis. He had gotten through the Parliamentary elections. He had gotten through the instability in the basin region. He had gotten through an assassination attempt. He had gotten through thick and thin the last 5 years, sometimes through sheer will power. And now, he was standing on the steps of the Capitol building, taking the oath of office.

“Congratulations, Mr. Chancellor.”

The words rolled from the tongue of the elderly Chief Justice like butter on toast, and once the ceremony was over, a massive rawr of shouts and cheers erupted from the crowd of thousands upon thousands of people that had come to the Capitol to see him become Chancellor. Patting the Chief Justice, the new Chancellor walks up to the microphone.

“Let me tell y’all a story,” he begins. “When I was growing up on that Altmark farm, we had a few hogs. We’d feed the hogs, take care of the hogs, and sometimes we sold them, sometimes we had ham for dinner. But occasionally, a hog would get sick, real sick, one where you had to get rid of ‘em. Well, our government is a sick hog. It’s sick, real sick, and it’s time we got rid of the damn fools in that government, ain’t it?” Once again, the crowd erupts into a cheer that was just about on par with what it felt like to be shelled, soon breaking out into chants of the party slogan. Oskar tries to wave them down, but they quite down only gradually.

“And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do folks. You have elected me as your leader, and I will make sure I fulfill every single thing I promised to you. I ain’t gonna let you down because that would mean letting the country down. We’re gonna boot the establishment out on their ass, just like they did to our brave veterans, then we’ll make sure the idiots can’t come back. After that, we’ll put our economy in order and pay back every debt we owe. What do I mean by that? Well, we’re gonna pay back every goddamn asshole that’s f*cked with us. Every last one!”

To describe the cheers of the crowd in military terms, it would be equivalent to being shelled by artillery guns, bombed by aircraft, while a thermonuclear bomb dropped right beside you. They were furious, just like Oskar, and their cheers upon his decree showed that they were even angrier.

“Folks, we’re gonna make sure that this country never goes to hell again, as it has so many times in the past. We ain’t gonna falter, neither are we gonna flinch. We will have our Honor once again folks, and our Honor will stand with our nation for a thousand, no, a million years! Mark my words!”

One last time, the crowd was set off like a battery of Raketenwerfers. Oskar waves to the crowd, and gives the Honor Party salute, the crowd quickly returning it. “Thank y’all, gimme a few days and we’ll be back on track to being the top dogs.” As he came off the stage on the Capitol stairs, he began to realize how sweaty he was, and how fast his heart was pumping. Nothing had kicked his adrenaline up like that except giving a speech in front of a roaring crowd.

Oskar then heads out of the Capitol and hops into the bullet proof limousine that made the center of the Chancellor’s motorcade, a few APCs rolling on the flanks to protect him and clear the road. They rolled down Repulikan street, then Maximilian, then finally, on Ruhmes Street, and pulled into the gates of the Ruhmes Haus.

Parking, he hops out with a few Honor Guard’s, which he was using instead of RSB per his request. He grins, seeing the Ruhmes Haus before him. This was his now. Oskar pushes the doors open and views all the works of art and the freshly cleaned rooms. Politicians spared no expense when they alone could be comfortable. Electing to pay no attention it it, he walks to the end of the Haus, the far end, where the office of the Chancellor lay.

Oskar slowly pushes the door in, and sees the Ruhmes Office, taking a minute to savor his victory. He’d won, by God, and now, this was his office, not some damn socialist’s. He steps over to the Chancellor’s desk, pulls out the chair, and takes his seat, sliding back into it and sighing with relief. Here he sat, triumphant over the establishment, and he was sure he would stand triumphant over the rest of his enemies.

Because, this was where he would pack back all that he owed.

Every.

Last.

Bit.