Breakwater

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Breakwater

Post by Socialist World Republic »

Tessi, Loago

Loago, John Ngomo felt, was in many ways like his home in Orashi. Wandering the streets of Tessi, he could have easily mistaken the city for Oloko or Amizi - though not the bustling, overcrowded metropolis of Port Calabar. That was, perhaps, unsurprising given the length of Implarian overlordship over southern Cyrenaica. There was only so much the Qedari could do in less than two decades, especially with their focus more on Ha'il and their rivalry with Adrar than on developing their southern Protectorate.

However, wherever John turned, he was also reminded that Loago was a foreign country. There was more poverty, more visibly destitute people in Loago. People openly begging on the streets was an unusual sight to John, as it had become to most Orashi citizens. It was an obvious source of pride to them, but the tales of how Orashi used to be so poor people died of starvation in the middle of the streets was also perhaps the biggest reason that membership in the SWR wasn't in question in Orashi: without the steady stream of money from those who were able to freely move to Implaria to work as well as from the federal government, many of the welfare policies of the state would be unaffordable.

There was a good reason these thoughts were on the fore of his mind right now. John had come to Loago to set events into motion that, hopefully, would bring Loago into the fold. Would allow his brothers and sisters to the west to enjoy the same development his own country had been able to undergo. His mission was to help the Loagans attain freedom and socialism. And for once, John actually felt good about his mission without hesitation.

At a small café at the fishers' port - called "Mama Kabba's" - John had arranged a meeting with a Loagan general. It was still quite early, the café had only just opened up and barely any patrons frequented the establishment yet. The location was quiet, unnoticeable and his conversations here were unlikely to draw any unnecessary attention. It had taken John a while to find it.

"General Taal, glad you could make it."

Makang Taal was a visibly tough man. He had the toughness of an officer who had spent his life serving a cause that wasn't his own. Someone who had pursued a career and been diligent, disciplined, efficient, precisely because everyone knew that he wasn't serving out of loyalty. Out of all the men that had enough power in Loago to shape the future of the country, Taal was the one most suitable as an ally of the World Republic.

"Let me not waste you time, General," John chose a direct approach because he had already noticed some hesitation in the General coming here. He assumed the General was a man who didn't like to act on limited information. "Your country is at a crossroads and it must choose its future. My impression is that you like neither the idea of being ruled by the Tajdidists, who don't even acknowledge the existence of your people, nor by a royal lapdog who has lost his master."

General Taal remained stoic, not giving any hint as to what he thought of all this. John, however, paused, waiting for the General to reply, which came, after a few seconds, in the form of a slight nod with the head. "Go on."

"I represent an interest - a foreign interest, admittedly, but an interest nonetheless - in Loagan self-determination. In democracy and popular sovereignty. And I am looking for the future leaders of Loago so that we may provide it with the ressources necessary to seize this future."
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Re: Breakwater

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Dia, Loago

The group of soldiers had been given their orders, nothing more. Explanations was a matter for the higher ranks. These men however had been driven up the road in a truck, told to dismount and put up a road block. No one was to get in or out of the capital until further notice, unless under explicit orders of the general.

Or unless it was General Taal himself. He watched his men salute him and clear the way for him and his personal guard to pass. They had questions written on their face, but dared not to speak. It was a curious expression, one he saw throughout his force, so unlike the heavy burden of worries one could see on the faces of his inner circle of officers and guards. They knew what he was about to do, and though they agreed, they approached the point of no return anxiously. His soldiers, however, would only learn of it once the deed was done.

He could only hope they would understand as well; still follow him loyally, once the Rubicon was crossed.

"General," an officer saluted him in front of a radio station, explaining that his units had taken up key positions in the capital. His most trustworthy units had been tasked with apprehending members of the current government. First reports of success were coming in at that front as well, but it was likely many would evade him for now, even if just out of poor chance.

Either way, it was time. Time for him to make his declaration. He stepped into the radio offices and when the technician had set up a live broadcast, he began his speech to the people of Loago and the whole world. He was ending the Pashalik of Loago and declaring a new, independent Republic.

He knew, this was the beginning of the future for Loago, but only the future itself could reveal what it had in store for his country: bloodshed and war or peace and prosperity.
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