Can you guess I've been playing way too much Fifa 11 recently?
Bastions
Chapter Forty One: Aeterna Rege Europa
Part 3
Prelude:
By 1361 Duke Mohammad of Holstein was able to regain control over his Norse territories. But the tensions between Christians and Muslims were at an all time high. Throughout Germany and Italy mobs of one group would go out trying to root out the others. Violence between sects of one group was also increasing. Christians especially had become very untrusting of other Christians. The self imposed isolation drove groups apart, especially the Edessan Catholics. The Edessans retreated to their fortresses on the Persian Gulf, a mere shadow of their former greatness, their empire long ago extinguished. Their diasporas scattered amongst the dunes of Arabia, but the island of Bahrain held the key to their survival, and from there they antagonized all the local states. North of Arabia laid the Christian lands: Rome, Prussia, Mordvia and the Norse. The British Isles and Iceland were the only Christian lands west of the Baltic Sea. There was a period of time, between the early invasions of Britain by the Caliphate and the mid XV Century, which Iceland remained mostly isolated. Trade continued, but there are few signs that Iceland entered any wars, marriages or even alliances during this period. Instead, it is assumed, that they took to the seas. Many signs point to an Icelandic presence in North America as early as 1280 and lasting as late as 1350. However, by the time Vasque sailors discovered the Americas for Europe, there was no sign at all of Europeans in Newfoundland.
June 13, 1998
Bralisklas Stadium was filled to its peak capacity for the rivalry between
FK Mæmálgrád and
Máriengrád Óneon. A sea of old gold and black pulsed underneath Bendiks as he leaned back in a comfortable chair in the presidential box. Klaudijs, a native of Kiev, had abstained from this trip, instead choosing to remain at the Presidental Palace where he could watch Kiev in peace. Bendiks thought nothing of it, he'd be damned if he didn't cheer the boys onto another victory over
Óneon. Isabel was sitting deeper in the box, watching something else on a small TV; she glanced over to Bendiks as he shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth, much of it landing in his lap. "I have no idea where our children get it, dear," she said toying with her husband. On the pitch FK entered in their old gold and black home kits while
Óneon wore their blue and whites.
FC Memelgrád's home (left) and away (right) kits.
Mariengrád Union's home (left) and away (right) kits.
He turned around and gave her a popcorn infused smile and then turned back to face the game, "I'm pretty sure it is your dad. Guy is always a mess," he said jokingly. As one of Memelgrád's strikers broke away from the last defender Bendiks stood up, ready to cheer, but the kick goes just over the bar with the help of the keeper and the Mariengrád fans let out a sigh of relief. Bendiks let out a laugh and clapped his hands, sitting back down and straining to watch for the corner.
"What is so funny?" Isabel asked, sitting down next to Bendiks.
"We are at the sixth minute and already
Óneon is blocking shots. We have them on the run; the new formation is the key. That new manager is doing things right." Bendiks quieted as the cross came in and was headed away from goal. "Damned, Zydrunas! That was practically to your face!" He almost stood up, but remembered to try to stay calm. It would have been a brilliant goal for a player who was on his form.
A several minutes and at least two fouls later, Bendiks had forgotten anything pertaining to civility. Cursing the refs and yelling play ideas despite being in an enclosed box he would have effectively isolated Isabel had she not been doing the same thing. "Agustas Koit, with the ball!" shouted the announcer, "Around Kaljo Aleksandersun! Only the keeper left! He's got maybe ten meters left; he shoots for the upper left and... ITS IN! GOAL FK MEMELGRRRRÁD!" Bendiks jumped to his feet and grabbed Isabel, swinging her out of her chair. "Goal for the rookie number nine, Agustas Koit, in the fifteenth minute! Boy, Mariengrád not looking happy about that one!"
"Ha! I told Klaudijs that Koit was a good buy. Kid's going to be a great star! I can tell!" Bendiks said, eventually settling back down as the players returned from the celebrations to kick off again. "Heh, not worthy of the number nine my ass." Mariengrád kicked off and kept the ball in their defensive line, trying to set up for a long pass forward.
"Watch him!" Isabel shouted pointing at the Mairengrád left winger who was open and decently far ahead.
"No, no no... watch!" Bendiks demanded, he pointed to the last Memelgrád defender who took a few steps forward while watching the left winger.
"What is he doing?!"
"The left winger is off sides, but I bet that his center doesn't know that..." And it was true; Mairengrád's CDM kicked the long ball up to the left winger, only to have the flag go up as soon as its target was known. "Told you. Mariengrád is really off form this season. If this keeps up we'll need a new rival because they'll get relegated."
"Mariengrád? No. They might not end in the top five, but there is no way they are going to place twenty second," Isabel said. "Once Mindigas recovers from that bull-shit Chernigrád tackle, Mariengrád will be playing at full strength again."
"Meh, Mindigas is over-rated. Ugly troll anyways. Though, it was fun to watch him roll over those Istimari pretty-boys in the World Cup two years ago," Bendiks chuckled. As half-time approached the game seemed to die down and despite a few fouls, stoppage time was limited to just a minute. Almost the instant half time was called the phone rang in the box, causing Bendiks to jump in his chair.
Isabel walked over and picked the phone up before handing it to Bendiks, "It is Klaudijs."
Bendiks gave her a half-hearted smile; a call from Klaudijs at a time like this is rarely good news. If it had been good news, it would have waited for after the match. "What is it, Klaudijs?" Bendiks asked.
Surprisingly, the voice from the other end of the phone was not as sullen as one would have expected, "Well... we have some good news and some bad news."
"Well, get it over with..." Bendiks said, impatiently.
Klaudijs paused before lecturing, "You are a member of government, you should put a bit of interest into it. The good news is Kiev is winning three-nill. The bad news is that we might be getting dragged into a war."
"What?" Bendiks asked.
"Well, Morcárgrád isn't really known for being that good... plus there star center man is out and the team is just looking like shit..."
"Not what I am talking about."
"I know," Klaudijs said, slightly disappointed his joke wasn't better received. "Carthage's application to the European Union will officially be rejected on Monday. The reason is the on-going conflict with Kanem. Aragon especially stood firm against letting in a nation that is occupying another country. Of course Carthage is likely to appeal, stating the Kanem is not a functioning country and needs to be pacified before they can pull out their troops."
"So you were right back in the Zilina days? You expect then that Prussia will be at the front lines."
"I don't know. The representative from Aragon has been pretty strongly opposed to Europe intervening in Africa."
"Well if they ask for our military support, I'd say you should refuse," Bendiks began, "Tell them we will not support their intervention in Kanem until there is universal recognition of Zilina. And not just the Hungarian part... the German part to."
Klaudijs sighed, "Bendiks: that is probably not the way to go."
"We cannot cave into Europe's every demand. We are going to need to stand up eventually for ourselves and for the Prussian diaspora." On the other side of the line Klaudijs was silent. The whole subject of Zilina was becoming a dividing issue in Prussia. Within the Social Labor Party a large "hawk" faction was beginning to build, centered mostly on Bendiks and General Mihkel Georgssun. Klaudijs knew that his support was waning the longer he put off resolving the Zilina question.
"Not now," he answered after some thought. "We need to cooperate now, be pushy when they owe us something."
"They already do," Bendiks said quietly. He set the phone down on the receiver and after sitting still for several minutes, walked back over to his seat. The game had already started and the score was tied up. He shook his head. "Who scored?" He asked Isabel, who had tried not to eavesdrop the whole time.
"Edward Stefanssun: off a header from a corner," she said. "It was totally a goal kick."
"Fuck."
As the game progressed, Bendiks slowly began to forget about the phone call and got more and more back into the game. But everything remained tied up through the eighty-fifth. In the eighty-fourth one of
Óneon's defenders got sent off for a foul just outside the penalty box, and despite the chanting of the crowd, a free kick is all that they got. The right midfielder lined up his shot and with an expert flick sent it not over the wall in front of him, but across them into the waiting feet of Koit who sent the ball into the back of the net. The stadium erupted in cheers. Even the announcer was drowned out by some fifty-thousand people chanting. And as play started again, with a mere four minutes plus stoppage, Memelgrád's defense held firm and it wasn't long before the ball was back in Mariengrád's third.
The crowd stood up in apprehension: "We want a hat trick! We want a hat trick!" And so it was: hearing the crowd, Memelgrád's other striker passed across goal to a wide-open Koit, letting the rookie sink his third goal of the day. Bendiks and Isabel cheered with the rest of FK's fans as a large tifo flag was drawn cross the stands. All across Prussia on game day, people left their worries at the pitch's gate and got to enjoy ninety minutes away from work, worries, land lords, and any other problem that they might be facing. For ninety minutes each Saturday Memelgrád's center district united under a banner of old gold and black.