Their Ideals, Their Flag - A CCRP Novel by TrianglePanBrain

''This article is a wiki backup of the WIP book itself, also available on Scratch. For the as-yet-unwritten article about the book, see Their Ideals, Their Flag.''

Synopsis
Inutillian Vuric Tanil has spent his entire life in the PRA, being born 2 years after the invasion. And now approaching college age he must gripe with seemingly impossible choices, seemingly massive pros and cons. Should he go to one of the best colleges in the region so he can progress in life, but which is the capital city of his oppressors in the core Amurrhinian region in Spirova? Should he stay home with his family and protect them against the growing tensions in PRA-owned Inutillia, but face the might of the Amurrhinians? Should he leave altogether to the Free State of Inutilia (if he can manage to get across the impossible border), but have to leave his family and everyone and everything he has ever known behind? He doesn’t know what to do, but he must eventually decide or else he will be destroyed by their ideals, and their flag...

Prologue: The Invasion
I remember what my father told me about happened that day. As he was walking home there was nothing, on the street at least. He told me that while walking home his once bustling village felt colder, as if though death himself had come through our town, if only he knew that death did not come but was on its way. When he did see someone they were families frantically running with cases and whatever they could take, going seemingly as far west as they could go. He walked a bit faster that day, I think if he didn't then maybe he wouldn't have been alive right now. By the time he came home my mother pushed him into the cellar and came down too. He and my mother all hid there for hours on end. By the time the artillery fire ended and he and my mother left the cellar our neighborhood was completely destroyed. Every building was either burnt down, collapsed, or only half-standing and ridden with bullet holes. Our house was the latter. They took whatever wasn't destroyed and walked north.

By the time it got dark they were stopped on the road by a GDC army group, my father never told me the conversation between them or what the army group's idiotic justification for it was, but they were taken into the group and forced to march south-east to a prisoner of war camp in Salsuginis. They stayed there until the war ended, and so found themselves in the PRA. They settled in Salsuginis, but this isn't their story, its mine.

Chapter One: The Benefits of Pain
1914, September. Friday.

I put my books on the table as I got home.

"How are you mom?" I asked her, ever since the riots started we've all been worried.

"Better", she said, "if you got your books off of the damn table."

"Sorry." I took my books off the table and took a look at the newspaper she was reading. "Looking for updates on dad?" My father had been arrested and detained around a month ago when the riots started to "Pre-ensure the stability of the district." Bull. All they wanted to do was to keep us in fear, to show us that they can do what they did in 1894.

"No", she sighed, I've given up on that now."

"So what are you reading then?" I inquired, still trying to get a look at the newspaper.

"ElectionWatch, actually. If I can't get your father out of jail I might as well vote for someone who can."

That was the first benefit of the PRA, democracy.

"You know mom, there's a rumor that the voting won't happen here cause of the riots."

"If that's true then I'm joining them.", snickering,

"Anyways Vuric how was school for you?"

"It was good, weekend should be better."

That was the second benefit of the PRA, education.

"Appriciate what you have Vuric, we grew up with a field of wheat and a bucket of water for school."

"Yeah yeah I know, you've told me this a million times now."

"And I'll say it a million more until you get it."

"Ok then, I'll-"

"You need to get the food shipment remember?"

That was the third and last benefit of the PRA, easy food access.

"Oh right", I angrily mumbled. The PRA had a lot of farms, but the collectivization meant that it was a 2 hour journey to and from the supply center, not usually a pain since we needed to get it only at the end of every month. Anyways it is currently the end of the month.

Chapter Two: But Pain Is Still Pain
"Come on kid! This bus doesn't have all day!" The Amurrhinian transport official shouted.

I sighed and ran to the one of the 7 busses.

The official walked to the front. "Now, although some of us are late", the official glared at me, "we will begin the trip shortly. I just have to do a couple of vehicle checks, then we and the rest will get to the food supply center. Da zdravstvuet Adrieneu!"

'Da zdravstvuet Adrieneu!' At this point a familiar sound. Barely any of us actually knew any words of Amurrhinian, but we all understood 'Long live the Amurrhine!'. How could you not understand what was said so many times to you? I began to think a lot about Amurrhinian, why is it that the word Amurrhinian refers to both the language and the ethnic group, and how the Amurrhine is both the nation and the river. And how when you think about it the PRA has only won a war against Inutilia, a nation that already had a pathetic military, Alituria, a nation that was being invaded by essentialy ever other empire already, and two wars against itself. And college, why does the best college have to be in Spirova, the most dystopian and dense and Amurrhinian majority city in the world. I'd proabably either die of the combined body heat of the millions of people there or be forced to leave because I'm Inutillia-

"HEY KID!", the official yelled at my face, "Name."

"Oh yeah, sorry. My name is Vuric Tanil."

"Alright." The official wrote my name down on a clipboard. "Mr. Tanil, could I give you a piece of advice?"

I nodded.

"Don't daydream on the bus to the supply shelter, this isn't exactly a field trip."

"Understood sir."

The official took the rest of the names and went back to the front of the bus.

"We shall now depart, we shall approach Inutillian supply shelter 4 within approximately 2 hours."

The official got into the driver's seat and, after some inaudible conversations on the radio with the 6 other busses, the caravan departed.

You can learn a lot from studying your peers. I saw that there were 18 people on the bus overall, five people on the bus were those that I'd seen around school, one looked to be an Amurrhinian police officer, another one in the back of the bus looked vaugely Fictian and was wearing a fedora and sunglasses, and another eleven were an odd batch of middle-aged Inutillians. Then I heard a loud noise outside the bus. It was artillery fire, Amurrhinian army artillery to be specific, it was training which was something they did nearly every day now since the riots. They didn't need it though, they've used the same artillery for about a decade now, every soldier even slightly qualified to operate it knew everything about it for years on end. There was a reason for the training though, to train the Amurrhinian army for its favorite pastime, fear. Fear is what it used in Inutillia since the invasion. Fear is what it tried to use against the Eleutherians when they were still an anarchist group. Fear is what it tried to invoke upon the people of Socii Mundial and Borogravia tens of times over. It reminds me of an Inutillian phrase. "An Amurrhinian may not win against you in a fight, but they will otherwise make you regret you were ever born, not now, now soon, but within time." They may not have as much strength as they'd like, but they do not forget, and they have more pride than a tiger. An Amurrhinian will have their revenge, I just hope they have already gotten it against us.

I remember when they first invaded, we all just thought they were but proud farmers. The thing is that when you go through the Amurrhine you see that belief wasn't all too wrong. Kalonip and his party might say they "modernized" the country, but all that really means is that they produced better farm equipment, because farming is the country. And on that bus ride I truly realized just how absolute farming is to the country. Every mile is either empty grassland or full farmland, and you can see how the people are tired, tired of war and tired of peace. The entire nation, at its whole, is but a powder keg. The question is, when will it explode?

Chapter Three: Aforementioned Explosion
When I was 16 my father encouraged me to go to the supply shelter, I remember that while riding the bus I imagined a giant concrete complex surrounded by massive roads and many lorries with government officials giving out food while hundreds of citizens unload the busses and get their monthly food certificate stamped. Instead there was a wooden shack that contains food certificate stamps and blueprints for the eventual giant concrete supply center, a flat space of grassland with hastily set up wooden tables, and carts pulled by horses (sometimes they were late and just pulled by people) not on asphalt or even dirt roads but on wide and straight granite pathways originally meant for the cancelled railroad project. Today it's pretty much the same, the same promised big concrete supply center is still not there, the same carts are pulled by the same people, and the same gravel pathway is still not a railroad; if it weren’t for the bus ride there and the overarching bureaucracy of the place I’d think that by the time I got there I went back 100 years to the past. I went up to the rickety wooden table and the Amurrhinian official told me “Bonvolu montri vian Oficiala Amurrhinian Atestilo por Manĝkolekto kaj Oficiala Amurrhinian Identigkarto.” ‘Please show your Official Amurrhinian Food Collection Certificate and Official Amurrhinian ID Card.’ The Food Collection Certificate is somewhat self-explanatory, it's a card to make sure you don’t get your 1/10 of a ton of food for multiple times a month, if you lose the card it means that at best you go hungry for a week and at worst you starve for a month. “Jen miaj kartoj.” I replied as I gave my identification card and food collection certificate to the official. “Ĉio ŝajnas esti en ordo,” the official stamped the food collection card for the month of Decembro, “Via manĝsako por la monato estas numero 812.”. I went over to the platform where they had the bags of food and after a few minutes of looking through the bag numbers I found bag #812, threw it onto the dolly, and brought it onto the bus. I was getting onto the bus, and then it happened. The sound of a bomb seems easy to describe, and maybe it is, but it’s tough to talk about for someone who’s experienced it first person. The bomb went off on an empty bus in the back of the caravan, thankfully no one died, but to say no one was shocked would be at best a lie. What’s important is what the bomb represents. It represents oppression, family members and friends we haven’t seen in years, tensions so high you could either cut it with a knife or start a massive fire with a bullet, the question is does it represent a sign of things to come.

Chapter Four: A Sign Of Things To Come
The city center is, in my opinion, the best place to see the effects of Amurrhinian influence over Inutilian society. If anyone dare wave the flag of old Inutilia or the free state you’ll get either a visit from the cops or the firemen, depending on the mood of whoever got put in charge of taking down that flag. Everyone must speak in Esperanto, the language the Amurrhinians invented to promote lingual cooperation in Inutillia, or else you will get beat up by an angry mob of either Amurrhinians or Inutillians. So I think it’s fair to say that while I went down to the city center, tensions were high. But that’s a but that's a story for another time, or just for later.

“Election season is coming around!” the newspaper boy shouted “Don’t be the one to not have a clue when your ballot is due! ElectionWatch is here!”

Elections. I once heard a rumor that the Amurrhinians invented democracy, definitely not true (I’m pretty sure Humerland had elections far before the PRA was even established), but considering they were the first to effectively style their entire culture and country off it I can see why someone might believe that they invented the concept. They treat voting almost like a grand holiday, and since this is the first election after two devastating civil wars the excitement is palpable.

“Excuse me sir, do you know where 1400 Yuril Street is?” I asked a nearby traffic cop.

“The education department office? To get there take a left at the end of 3rd Avenue, go down 4th Avenue, and then it's the first street on the right of Teppic Road.

“Thank you sir.”

I began my walk towards 3rd Avenue (hoping that it was a simple numbering system and that it was simply to the right of 2nd Avenue, thankfully it was). When most people think of an avenue they think of a thin space between two buildings that’s filled with crooks, electrical boxes, and garbage cans but the 3rd and 4th Avenue were actually quite nice. They were a medium-sized space between two architecturally pleasing buildings, probably just big enough to fit a horse through, with lots of shrubbery and a well-maintained brick road. I wish I could say the same about most of the other roads in the area, but that's a story for another time. And after a particularly annoying moment of having to remove a sticky pink substance from the sole of my shoe I entered the education department office.

“Hello, is this the education department office?”

The secretary replied, “Indeed it is. Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes I do.” I gave the secretary my ID card.

“You are Vuric Tanil, right?”

“I am.”

“Ok, please sit in the waiting room sir.” The secretary gestured to the bench by the wall.

I sat down at the bench and read the ElectionWatch segment in the newspaper. Not sure why I did it though, who else would I vote for but the Party for Inutillian Freedom?

A man walked through the wooden door. “Is there a mister Tanil here?”

I sat up. “Yes that’s me.”

“Well you’re the only other person here, but thanks for the clarification.” The man chuckled. “Now please come with me.”

I followed the man into the small gray hallway and entered the first out of 3 doors on the right. The room was a small-ish blue colored office with a decorated wooden desk, the nameplate on it said “Out of District Admissions Officer, Francisco Deranamo”. I took a seat at the desk in front of the door to the office.

“Now mister Tanil, I’ve gotten confirmation on your higher education admissions for the next school year. Now, unlike most other applicants, you only applied for the Spirova Central High Law School and your admission status is...” the admissions officer pulled a paper out of a manila envelope “approved. Congratulations mister Tanil!” the admissions officer shook my hand “This certainly is not an easy place to get into, but you made it!

I was smiling the whole time. All my effort this past year had come to fruition!

“Thank you sir!” I said as I ran out of the office. My excitement was so high I managed to run all the way to Spirova, city of dreams, and in what felt like a couple of seconds finished the term and got my degree. I became an amazing and renowned lawyer, so renowned that I was promoted by the Minister-President himself and became the first Inutillian member of the 9 on the Supreme People’s Court of the PRA! I defended Inutillians from oppressive Inutillians, and eventually contributed to the freedom of Inutill-

“Sir, are you paying attention?”

“Huh?” I stopped daydreaming and listened to what the admissions officer was saying.

“So as I was saying, expect further details, especially transportation information, to be mailed to you soon.”

“Understood. Thank you so much sir, I’ll be on my way now.”

I exited the building and headed home, smiling ear to ear the whole time.

Chapter Five: Hope, Or Revenge?
1915, September. Sunday.

“Funny how we experience time isn’t it? One moment you’re here, the next you’re there. How a couple of minutes for one person can be 8 hours for another. Yet time is hard to perceive for it is both but a human construct and a natural occurrence at the same... time. You can never stop experiencing time, well technically you can but I’m not going into that topic, yet we take it so much for granted. For example, 77 years is around 4000 weeks, if you...” The professor droned on and on about time for seemingly all of it.

Philosophy was a requirement for the final year of mandatory schooling, I’m also pretty sure it is the most underfunded. Some people may be interested in it, but not me. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s the final class of the day and I’m excited to leave, or if it’s because I’m tired and cannot fully comprehend the pseudo-nonsense being spouted by the professor, but I simply despise the class. If it lasted for just a few minutes longer I may have sprinted out of there by day 3. I looked at the clock, 17:00, just a few more seconds and-

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

The bell went off. The bell is meant to tell the students when to move on to the next class by the sound it makes, but at this point I only know how to move on to the next class by the lack of sound in my ears it causes. I’ve heard someone say that the Amurrhinians didn’t want to pay too much extra money for the Inutillian schools so they used old bombing sirens as “bells”, probably the most credible rumor I've ever heard. But I couldn’t be too disappointed by the bell, for today was not only the second-last day of school, but it would be one of the greatest days of my life.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing riiiiiiiiiiiiiii-

The bell stopped halfway through on the final ring, a rare thing a couple of years ago but now it’s every other day.

The old professor stopped whatever rant he was on and sighed. “Alright students, that’s the end of the day. I hope I enlightened you on something today.”

I ran out of there as fast as physically possible. Today was potentially the greatest day of my life so far, I would get to see my father. For almost a year he sat in “detainment”, I’ll admit that on more than one occasion I forgot he was even still alive, but the devil Kalonip can at times be an angel and this was one of those times. They were letting all the prisoners out after a year on from the riots they put down. That, combined with being admitted to Spirova, and I was over the moon. As I was walking to the tram station I decided to write down all the things I would do in Spirova in my notebook, a city of 14 million people has a lot after all and Spirova is no exception.

“Excuse me sir.”

I looked up from my notebook. The man in front of me wore a red-blue uniform with a large silver badge and a blue cap. He surely looked Amurrhinian, dark hair and blue eyes, and he wore the outfit of a typical Amurrhinian police officer, but something seemed off.

“You are Inutillian right? I need to ask you a few questions.”

“How long will it take?” I said while nervously trying to take a peek at his watch. A very expensive looking Eleutherian watch mind you, a poorly paid police officer could probably not even afford the import tax for it.

“About half an hour.”

“How far is it?

“A few miles away from here.”

Second red flag, the PRA hadn’t used the Homaric imperial system of measurement since the fall of the GDC. Was this really a legitimate officer?

“Come on then.” The potentially illegitimate officer gestured to what I assume is the direction of his building.

I walked with the maybe not an officer, just in case he was a real officer and instead of being an hour late to see my father I’d be a month late. The closer I got to where the building was the more suspicious the officer seemed. The building the “officer” led me too was in a rough part of town as one might say. A disgusting alleyway that had a door on its left and right and connected to an unmaintained sidewalk in the front and back. One that didn’t see much foot traffic. One that most actual cops would stay away from (you didn’t have to pay the high taxes on bribes, you did on your already small wages), so I confronted him.

“You aren’t really an officer are you?”

“Excuse me!” He stopped walking. “How dare you accuse me of something like that! I’ve been trained for this job and I am an officer for this great state.” At this point I noticed that his Amurrhinian accent seemed to be slipping, into something more Eleutherian or Aliturian sounding.

“Despite what you may think of the people of this country I can tell you that I’m not an uneducated and isolated farmer, I know an Amurrhinian officer when I see one.”

“Fine then, can you keep a secret?” The fake officer sighed.

“I suppose so.”

The fake officer looked around to see if there were any passers-by and then told me. “I work for JUMPSUIT, the Eleutherian intelligence agency. I’m looking to worsen the situation here for the Amurrhinians.”

“You are helping the resistance?”

“Indeed I am.”

I started sweating a bit from the mention of him supporting the resistance. Doing that around here was the closest thing to a death sentence you could get. They would give you a trial and throw you in prison for life. Just mentioning “the resistance” could ruin any hopes of you having a future, which I wanted to have.

“In that case I’ve got to g-”

“Hold it right there!” An Amurrhinian police officer ran up behind me to in front of the fake officer, but this time they didn’t seem like a spy. He pointed to the fake officer and gestured to 2 officers that followed him in. “Are you Andrea Accardi?”

“What? Who’s that? I’m Nickolai Eritanol!” The fake officer nervously responded. “Here’s my ID.” He said as he handed the officer his ID while the 2 other officers behind him gave him dirty looks. “Look, Nickolai Eritanol, right there in print.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me right? This is the fakest ID I’ve ever seen, it doesn’t even have a Department of Records stamp. You’re coming with me mister Accardi.”

“Well shoot.” One of the 2 officers behind him put him in handcuffs as I slowly tried to back away, I’m a bit short for my age so I assumed that under the darkness of the alleyway they wouldn’t see me. I assumed wrong.

“Hey! And what are you doing here?!”

In the words of the fake officer, shoot.

“You’re coming with me too, for questioning in this case.” The officer did not handcuff me but gestured to his baton and said. “Come with me and mister Accardi. Oh and I hope you didn’t have any plans for this evening, you’ll be there for a while.”

Chapter Six: [Not Named Chapter]
This chapter is yet to be released.