MontealbaBoard

Order 1, containing news from June 1st 2023 - June 6th 2023

The Aesymnetes has officially approved the Citizens council request to approve the Department of Caning within V-M borders. After viewing the dissoluton of the Autonomous Province of Spezia Vínfalov-Meyle has quickly joined the fold so as to not lose its autonomous status. The Aesymnetes shall remain in power and work with the new 2nd Montealban State. To continue to operate in this role most effectively the status of Union between the Vínfalov and Meyleans is officially dissolved. The 2 Root-beerian states shall now operate as one official entity. The official name of the province, "The Grandest Home of the Vínfalov and Meyle Under the One Star" shall remain but for government documents the "Province of Vioney" shall now be used to represent the state. Using the old name of the Root-beerian state that used to exist in the area in medieval times.

The new state reaffirms its opposition to Fascistic, Communistic, Kaiseric, and hoolaginist activites and they will be dealt with by the newly approved ministry of caning, which has already established offices in the cities of Anise, Kessidy, and Sv. Marisa.

Trade remains strong. The Vínfalov and Meyleans are a united people and while chaos reigned in the realm they maintained strong ties with the EU and west to maintain imports. This they now choose to share with Siesty Dom and the remaining territories in need of supplies. Humanitarian convoy's should be expected in the coming days.

The Ministry of Navy has reorganized itself and the Minister for the Navy himself has gone on a pilgramige to find the mythical Chrysanthmum Isle. This Isle is said to contain holy scriptures of the Vínfalov-Meylean religions and the status of this island state will allow them to better analyze the naval tactics and equipment of foreign countries to better invest and procure for the strengthening of the Montealban Navy.

General Notices:
-Interstate 3, crossing through Anise, Kada, Sv. Cebereus will be fully opening its 2nd lane after months of maintenance.
-The Cecensko memorial in Kessidy is reopened for the public under a guard to avoid vandalism
-Juliet Company has officially disarmed as a Vioney PMC and submits itself to the new central state under orders of the Aesymnetes.

HAIL VIONEY! MY LIFE FOR VIONEY!

Shaido uni, sekund uni 2023 por sekund seku 2023

Zenyen no cocha no peum por {Department of Caning} shovsci no Aesamnitai a peum seishilfaia. Otonomi ken no Spezia apro ponduai, soi Vínfallo-Meyru nia nadu bacome, Aesamnitai a shin Prinkes hoyo sanajia. Aesamnitai no basoi a gadu. Shin Prinkes no Liu a suwa tarakia. Mou soi biete taraku avo no shin Prinkeps bacome Aesamnitai a Vínfallo-Meyru no Uniki nia etia. niu maichi ar pondci et uni maichi a no toushi tarakci. Seishil nami, {Vinfallo et Meyru no Meilban Maichi Yünde len Meil Astéru} a gadin demai len feunei no seishil nami, {Vioney ken} a kagin.

Shin ken vaui fashishu, Comishu, Kaishu, Holaganshu no Otoçon kopanikopan et kon Otoçon tuti nubasinubasin. len {Department of Caning} a sudeja jiso den Anise, Kessidy, Sv. Marisa a sudri.

Kobai nosti omu. Falu et Meyru a uniki no Otoçon et meria saon no ken nadai. Kon ken avo EU et len ust a basoi omu shikeite impotfau. kon impot no ken a parsci avo Siesty Dom et ahao shin ken den beskau. suitsi joi den Otoçoishu goso a aritsu.

Nakai no ministri a saiorkensin et meria ministrishu watekitik {chrysanthemum Isle} no yovini higardeite a sati. kon shils

ahao nus
-Hasti tan, Anise, Kada, Sv. Cebereus no veyokumo len niuti vin a saikeoku aho niu und ar itenji.
-lemenki no Çecensko den Kessidy no bilko ar saikeokin. kon lemenki no viki halaktoi a keidi ar magamu.
-Juliet gun a kaoburmiete seishilfain a no Vioney PMC. kon gun, Aesamnitai a cojaiete tarakin avo shin prinkeps

HAIL VIONEY! NIA VIU AR VIONEY!

Desperate to evade the mounting criminal charges against him, Jovan embarked on a one way pilgrimage across the country, seeking solace in anonymity. However, his attempts to find employment in Terovgrad were short-lived, as the authorities from Vissegard soon arrived, casting an ominous shadow over his newfound haven. Faced with the imminent threat of capture, Jovan made an unfortunate decision to set fire to yet another building, erasing any trace of his existence in the city, but also leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

With each passing day, Jovan became more of a nomad, a restless wanderer with no fixed abode. He sought refuge with a small nomadic tribe, their way of life mirroring his own perpetual state of displacement. The nomads quickly ratted him out, however, and Jovan was once again forced to flee. Jovan tried seeking refuge in the shadows of Pripjat, and on the beaches of Kada, where the crashing waves provided a temporary respite from his own existence. But even in that fleeting moment of tranquility, Jovan could not escape the weight of his past.

The world became his shelter and his prison. At his lowest, Jovan found refuge within the confines of a museum, huddling in a dusty bathroom stall for a weekend. The silence of the museum's halls offered him a temporary reprieve from the relentless pursuit that dogged his every step. But as he left his makeshift camp behind, he knew his time was limited, for his crimes would inevitably catch up with him once again.

Nowhere else to turn, Jovan returned to Mariagrad—the very place from which he initially sought escape. The city's dark alleys and loud booms frightened Jovan more than ever, as police and cannery guards could be in every corner. With every footstep on the worn cobblestone streets, he felt the weight of his past mistakes pressing against his shoulders. The air carried whispers of his transgressions, each breeze reminding him that he was a marked man.

And then, chaos.

Attempting to blend in while walking down one of the bustling streets in downtown Mariagrad, Jovan's gaze was drawn to a significant crowd huddled around a small tube television. Though his mind urged him to avoid drawing attention to himself, Jovan's feet propelled him towards the gathering. He caught only fragments of a newscaster's words, "Glory to the New State!" before the crowd erupted into screams and dispersed, their voices echoing phrases such as "The country has fallen!" and "Vissegard has no leader!"

What followed the hysteria was what will be forever known as the Mariagrad Massacre.

In the aftermath of the massacre, Jovan spent most of his time packing his belongings and meticulously planning his next move in his makeshift hut on the outskirts of the slums. He was prepared to leave and start anew, perhaps in the Buzhan Republic or Dawlat Thania. However, his plans were abruptly halted when two men dressed in black arrived at his doorstep.

"Mr. Jovan Djordjević, I presume?" said the taller of the two men, his voice laced with a chilling authority. Jovan's heart sank as he stared at them, shock and fear gripping his every fiber. It had been over seven months since anyone had uttered his name, yet these strangers seemed well-acquainted with his identity.

"You're under arrest for destruction of government property, arson, murder, vandalism, and grand larceny," declared the shorter man, deliberately deepening his voice to sound more menacing. Jovan's mind raced, desperately trying to rationalize his actions. "But all I did was commit arson, and it was in another province!" he stammered, hoping to plead his case.

The two men exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes filled with an unsettling mix of indifference and cold determination. Without uttering a word, they descended upon Jovan, delivering merciless blows that left him battered and bruised. The pain seared through his body, each strike a cruel reminder of the consequences he now faced. In a haze of agony, Jovan's consciousness waned, and he was left to the mercy of his captors.

Jovan regained consciousness, his battered body throbbing with pain. He strained against his restraints, feeling the cold metal of handcuffs biting into his wrists. The room was dimly lit, and he struggled to focus his eyes as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Panic welled up within him, but his attempts to cry out were stifled by the tight gag, allowing only muffled sounds to escape.

A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into Jovan's line of sight. Clad in a dark trench coat and a distinctive military hat, the man exuded an aura of authority. His tall, thin frame was accentuated by his greying hair, cropped close to his scalp. But what drew Jovan's attention most was the scar that marred the man's face, stretching from his right ear down to his chin.

"Jovan Djordjević," the man spoke, his voice chilling and tinged with an intriguing accent. "You must be wondering why you find yourself in this predicament, yes?" The man's words dripped with a calculated tone, as if relishing the power he held over Jovan's fate. Jovan's gaze burned with a mix of hatred and defiance, silently questioning the motives behind his capture.

"Oh, wait," the man continued, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Of course, you cannot speak." His comment carried a tinge of amusement, further fueling Jovan's anger. The realization that his ability to defend himself had been taken away only intensified his rage.

"Mr. Djordjević, I believe you are well aware of the reason for your presence here," the man stated, his voice devoid of empathy. "Seven months ago, you threatened to set fire to cannery #44 of the Vissegard Canning Co. As the Secretary of the Department of Canning, it falls upon me to apprehend individuals like yourself." Jovan's confusion deepened at the mention of this unknown government department, wondering if he had missed some significant development in his world. Had the government truly descended into madness?

Before Jovan could gather his thoughts, the Secretary interrupted his train of thought, his smile widening. "According to the Department of Canning Act 2, all canneries owned by the Vissegard Canning Co. have been declared government buildings," he explained, his tone filled with a disturbing satisfaction. "And by virtue of Order 7742, your attempted arson of such a building mandates your execution."

The weight of the situation bore down on Jovan, the gravity of his actions and the unforgiving laws that now governed his fate. His mind raced, searching for a glimmer of hope, a crack in the seemingly impenetrable system that held him captive. But as he met the cold gaze of the Secretary, he understood that his struggle for freedom had led him to a point of no return.

The Secretary paced around the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Jovan's eyes darted around, desperately seeking an escape route, but his restraints held him firmly in place. The scar on the Secretary's face seemed to contort into a sinister grin, amplifying the dread that coursed through Jovan's veins.

"Mr. Djordjević, your actions have not only endangered the interests of the Vissegard Canning Co., but they have also disrupted the stability of our society," the Secretary continued, his voice dripping with disdain. "We cannot allow such insubordination to go unpunished. You are a symbol of chaos, an embodiment of the threat to the canneries prosperity."

As the Secretary spoke, Jovan's mind raced, searching for a glimmer of hope. But the weight of his crimes, the evidence stacked against him, seemed insurmountable. The realization that he was at the mercy of an unjust system threatened to crush his spirit.
"And so," the Secretary declared, his voice now cold and authoritative, "your fate is sealed. The Canneries demand justice, and justice shall be served."

Suddenly, the room filled with a chorus of footsteps, as a small group of uniformed soldiers marched in, their expressions void of emotion. Jovan's heart pounded in his chest as they formed a line behind the Secretary. In their eyes, he saw not just the instruments of his demise, but a reflection of the oppressive regime that held them captive as well.
As they approached, Jovan's mind raced, desperately seeking a way to defy his captors, to resist the chains that bound him. But his body, weakened and battered, could do little more than tremble in fear.

The soldiers surrounded Jovan, their eyes locked onto him with an unsettling intensity. One by one, they raised their weapons, their fingers tightening around the triggers. Jovan closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable.

In that moment, as the room fell into an eerie silence, Jovan's mind drifted back to the slums of Mariagrad, to the flickering flames that had ignited his desperate quest for freedom. He thought of the nomadic tribe, the fleeting moments of respite in Pripjat and on the beaches of Kada. He thought of the weight of his past, the whispers that followed him through the city's alleyways.

Jovan’s last thought was of his mother as the deafening roar of gunfire filled the room.