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The telephone in Novikov’s study was ringing, an occurrence not at all uncommon. The guard picks up the phone and hands it to Dmitri.

“Novikov? It’s me, Načlan. Turn on your television.”

“Why?”

“Channel 4.”

With a sharp nasal exhale, Novikov hands the phone back to the guard, walks across his study to the television set, and presses number 4.

“-oday we climb the mountain! The people have spoken, and the message is clear! The future belongs to Rwani!”

Novikov takes the phone back and raises it to his ear

“And who’s this supposed to be?”

“Someone called ‘General Djime N’diaye’, his small South-East Usean country just had a coup, not far from Marundia. We were so busy with Talgerria we completely missed a revolution occurring the other side of Khazhatistan!”

“I remember Rwani, the old premier of Marundia mentioned it, said they were good allies.”

“Well this could be great for our influence in South Usea! We lost Marundia, and it was a catastrophe, but now that we have a strong friendship inland, we can mobilise towards Rwani and expand our relations there! In fact, their new leader mentioned you personally as an ‘inspiration’, his words not mine. You could have a summit in their capital of Zibélé?”

“Perfect. I’ll go tomorrow, and tell Ibjalni too, I want to really make sure we can keep Rwani in our grasp this time, we can’t afford another loss like Marundia!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, comrade.”

The phone clicks and Novikov goes to turn the television off.

“Just as well we build tanks better than we build boats, hm? All this foreign influence is getting risky, Feuraxia won’t like this at all…”