"The Committiets don't care about us. About people in general. They hide behind facades of people being in power. What a lie. Have you been to their land actually? Or are you blinded by false illusions and promises? Or worse? Are you just as power hungry as them? I thought better of you." The speaker was none other than the President of the Republic of Slavia, a country in the heart of Cadmune.

Although nearly three years passed since the end of the most devastating conflict on Earth, the world was preparing for another, much direr one. A conflict of ideologies. Unfortunate the little country was, for its position on the border between the two shaping superpowers placed it in an unfavourable situation.

"And the West is better how? People pushed to their deaths? Forced to work late at night to make a living? Slaves unwillingly labouring whilst their employers swim in gold? The Committiets might not be offering paradise on Earth, but they aren't trying to enslave whole populations," the other man responded agitatedly. He was a bit of an overweight person, the leader of Popular Party and also the Prime Minister.

The current alignment of powers in Slavia was uncertain. Although formerly an occupied country liberated by the Red Army, voices for both emerging paths were equally as strong. And both obviously wished to win.

Yet what none could ever see with their individualist eyes was the simple truth that politics of such a tiny nation were never confined to themselves alone. There always were outside forces with their own interests, advancing their goals and furthering their agenda.

The President knew it, doing his best to withstand the continuous but invisible attacks despite being an old and frail man. A man that had walked the road of hell together with the reconstructing country.

However, he was only one against so many. Even the leader of Popular Party, Gotteld Clemens, was merely a puppet in others' hands, carrying his ideas and believing they were his own.

"Think whatever you want, I'm not going to concede to your demands," the President, Ednond Benoas replied with a sigh. This wasn't the first attempt of the Prime Minister to urge him to cede power. The goal was very straightforward. To seize the parliament. "We are a democratic country. And as long as I draw breath, I will make sure that this land doesn't succumb to the poverty of dictatorship."

"My friend, I always viewed you as a reasonable man, but you are trying to test my patience. The times of your undisputed reign are slowly becoming the past. We grow stronger by the day. We control most of the police, most offices and more are on the way. Even now, my loyal colleagues in the parliament are hard at work. And you can't do a thing about it. So why don't you just give up and walk away without humiliation while it is still possible? The offer stands, but remember that it won't forever."

"I'd rather die fighting your megalomaniac ideas than conform to your threats. The people believe you only because they're blind. But mark my words, they will open their eyes in time and march you out of the country."

"Really? Then why they voted for us? Why they elected us? Isn't it because they favour our movement? Isn't it because we are on the right side?"

"Then why do you demand from me the power to assemble your own government and thus have free reign over Slavia? Isn't it contradicting your statement? Or are you schizophrenic? Or worse? Are you afraid?"

"No," Clemens grinned. "But you should be afraid, for this isn't the last time."