Vignette:Lamentations of a Civil Servant

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Lamentations of a Civil Servant

Club Wettin, Alvastadt, Imperial State of Alva
December 10th, 1976
I

n another life, someone would have had the brains to point out how concerning it was that he’d gotten used to the sounds of the bar. Perhaps he’d been here too often and for too long every time. But alas, he had nobody.

Or at least nobody useful.

It’s stupid, isn't it? How poorly this country's been managed.

Are you here to drink or wax philosophical, Sebastian?

Both. Keep that mouth of yours full of your shitty beer while I lament the state of our country.

Go and find someone else to bother, for mercy’s sake; I’ve already got my hands full, what with half of the office on strike.

And whose fault is that?

His stein clatters onto the counter with a dull thud. “I swear, what is it with you and politics?

For one, it’s a surefire way to get you riled up.

He’s gaining a newfound distaste for his friend's laugh lines. “God, I need new friends.

Fat chance.

His currywurst hasn’t even moved an inch towards his mouth, and the side of fries aren’t any closer either with the amount of pestering his supposed brother-in-arms is doing. Swiping away Sebastian’s hand from the fries, he finally takes a bite. The ketchup-smattered wurst is sorely welcome after a debilitatingly long night’s worth of cramming, what with his coworkers abandoning their posts to join the fight against the military government. Unlike them, Franz has had the rather ingenious idea of not painting a target on his head and laying low instead.

I mean, think about it. Weiss and Leitgeb had collaborationists on a loose leash from ‘25 up until Arendt kicked the door in. Then the bastard ruins the economy, the military, and our diplomatic ties all in the name of severely misguided patriotism. Honestly, do you know how much of a dent he put in our coffers rebuilding our navy, just to bloody mothball it when shit south of the border started getting hot? We’re lucky we’re a bloody petrostate…

When he puts it that way, it does sound bad. The fries taste impeccable, though. Might need a touch more salt.

“Yeah, I’ll admit the coup had an even worse effect on our diplomatic ties, but look at what came out of it! We got the king of collaborators in charge, and you know what he was? A proper pragmatist. You know, from the stories my father tells me, life under Arendt was absolutely fucking atrocious compared to Rodinoglou. Proper miracle worker, that man.

He hums his approval, stuffing another bite of currywurst down his mouth. Of all the things this bar serves, this is the best thing on their menu. He wonders why he hasn’t ordered it before.

Are you even listening?

Mmm.” (Yes.)

So anyway, we’ve got Dohna now, and the smarmy git has only gone and slashed our budgets in favour of refunding our military. Sound familiar?

Mmm.” (Delicious.)

The man’s shaping up to be a repeat of Arendt. I swear, he’s going to gut the Finance Ministry and I’ll be out of a job in five years time. Makes me wonder why Rodinoglou didn’t appoint someone from his clique, though.

You done? I’m getting tired of listening to you complain.

Hey! They’re legitimate concerns, and I want to voice them.

Wrong person to vent to. You do know I work in the private sector, yes?

But-

Just eat, man.

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