Scraps of Roleplaying

OOC Note: This is a scene from an Interflix series from Saintonge called Toile des Mensonges ("Web of Lies").


Toile des Mensonges, S1E9 (episode dropped 24 March 2025)

Headquarters, Service de Renseignement de Sécurité
Somewhere in Saintes

Col. Pierre-Simon Hulin saluted his superior, Lt.-Gen. Gérard-Marc Bressant, as he entered the room. Lt.-Gen. Bressant weakly returned the salute and did not bother standing up. Something was quite odd. The head of the Service de renseignement de sécurité (SRS), Saintonge’s military intelligence service, looked weary and tired. The Bethanian separatists had been wreaking havoc in the country and seemed unstoppable.

Col. Hulin had at least some good news to bring. They had some sort of success against the Talbenn broadel bethoneg (TBB), the foreign-funded Bethanian separatist organisation that is spreading terror throughout Saintonge’s northwestern Bethanian-speaking provinces. They knew TBB had minuscule support among the Bethanian populace, but the people are afraid because TBB had managed to infiltrate the critical sectors of Santonian society. Including the Royal Santonian Armed Forces.

The SRS knew that they had at least one mole within the Santonian military that was passing information to TBB. It seems that finally, they had caught one. Just too late.

Col. Hulin closed the door behind him and laid down a dossier on his boss’ table. Col. Hulin was Lt.-Gen. Bressant’s aide-de-camp and was part of the spymaster’s small circle of trusted advisers. In spycraft, one cannot trust too many and too much.

“I have great news.” Col. Hulin said as he opened the dossier. “One of the TBB’s spies within the Santonian military had been neutralised.” He took out a picture of the bloodied corpse of a dead soldier thrown into a pit at a construction site in Redon.

Lt.-Gen. Bressant glanced at the picture and stared at Col. Hulin. “We have already reported to you who he is. Lt. Hoël Kersaint, from the Cyber Force. We believe he had been passing information from the military to TBB.”

“Unfortunately, TBB managed to neutralise him first,” Col. Hulin continued. “We believe that TBB had killed Kersaint before we can capture him and spill info about the TBB.” Col. Hulin smiled, evidently waiting for a celebratory comment or triumphal cheer from his boss for a job well done by the SRS.

Instead, Lt.-Gen. Bressant sighed as he looked down on his hands on the table. He had been twiddling his thumbs the entire time that Col. Hulin was talking. It took a while before Saintonge’s spymaster spoke.

After a minute of awkward silence, Lt.-Gen. Bressant muttered, “Was his family informed?”

Col. Hulin’s brows furrowed. Was his family informed? That was a weird reply to a report that a traitor to the country had been killed. Was he missing something?

Col. Hulin ignored that nagging suspicion and instead continued talking about future plans. “Because information is still getting to TBB even after Kersaint had died, we believe there must be at least one more mole. Also, they must’ve known from that other source that we have already uncovered Kersaint and that he’s already compromised – hence his disposal.”

Disposal. Lt.-Gen. Bressant replayed the word in his mind. Disposal. Such is the gruesome reality for a spy.

Lt.-Gen. Bressant pushed the other thoughts off his mind and asked his adjutant: “Do you have any other leads?”

“Coming up short at the moment, to be quite honest,” Col. Hulin said. “Kersaint could’ve been a gold mine of information if we managed to capture and interrogate him.”

“He would’ve said nothing new that I didn’t know,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant whispered obtusely. Now Col. Hulin was genuinely confused.

“Sir, is there something that I’m not privy to?” Col. Hulin blurted out.

After some uncomfortable silence, Lt.-Gen. Bressant finally spilled the information.

“Lt. Hoël Kersaint was not a TBB mole in the Santonian military. He was our infiltrator into TBB.”

Col. Hulin’s jaw dropped. They had been following the wrong lead all along!?

“Lt. Kersaint is one of ours,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant admitted, with sadness creeping into his usually stoic character. “His loyalty is to Saintonge. I recruited him from the Cyber Force. It was a very secret operation.

“I arranged for fake compromising material on Lt. Kersaint to fall into the hands of the TBB. TBB took the bait and recruited Hoël. I funnelled some relatively harmless info through Lt. Kersaint to the TBB, but I already know there’s another mole because there were info that TBB acquired that I did not feed through Lt. Kersaint. Lt. Kersaint also confirmed that TBB had a high-ranking mole within the Santonian military, and that he was close to determining who he was… but he was killed.”

Lt.-Gen. Bressant shifted in his chair, the unease in his body and emotions visible to Col. Hulin. Rarely had he seen his usually steely boss like this.

“What a waste,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant muttered as his gaze shifted to the photo that Col. Hulin had brought. Col. Hulin saw his boss’ eyes glisten with tears. “Hoël was a courageous, intelligent, patriotic kid.”

“It’s always tough losing an agent,” Col. Hulin sympathised.

“Even more if you are the one who personally recruited them,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant added. With shaking hands, Lt.-Gen. Bressant picked up the photo of Lt. Kersaint’s body dumped unceremoniously into a hole. The paper was quivering as Lt.-Gen. Bressant stared at it. “They must’ve discovered that he was an infiltrator and they had killed him…”

Col. Hulin then saw a glint in Lt.-Gen. Bressant’s steel blue eyes. Lt.-Gen. Bressant laid the photo down and his hands tightened to clenched fists.

Lt.-Gen. Bressant looked up at his adjutant. “The TBB will only know that Hoël was an infiltrator if…”

“… somebody tipped them off?” Col. Hulin completed, which was the same spark that hit Lt.-Gen. Bressant’s mind.

Lt.-Gen. Bressant leaned back on his chair and started barking orders. His demeanour had changed. Col. Hulin realised it was time to act. His boss had a realisation.

“Draft the order for the preventive detention of Ponsart and his entire staff and execute the order,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant commanded.

Col. Hulin was stunned. “Pardon, sir?”

“Detain Ponsart and his staff, ASAP!”

Col. Hulin could not believe his ears. “Sir, are we talking about General Victor-Robert Ponsart, the chief of the Royal Santonian Cyber Force – ”

“DID I STUTTER, HULIN?” Lt.-Gen. Bressant yelled.

“No sir. Will draft the order, sir,” Col. Hulin was the one stuttering, shocked at the order. “But… General Ponsart outranks you, sir…”

Lt.-Gen. Bressant stood up from his chair and leaned forward. He was giving Col. Hulin his trademark death stare. “I am the Spymaster of the Kingdom of Saintonge and I can order the arrest of ANYONE – I repeat, ANYONE – in this country!”

“Yessir.”

Lt.-Gen. Bressant pounded his fists on the table. “They are lucky I am not making them disappear into thin air!”

Col. Hulin started gathering the papers on the table in preparation for leaving and following his superior’s orders. Lt.-Gen. Bressant was not a fun guy to be around when he is mad.

“Or do they want me to involve the King of Saintonge on their detention order?” Lt.-Gen. Bressant huffed.

On that note, Col. Hulin inserted a relevant question. “Shall I have General Barraux countersign the – ”

“I’ll deal with Barraux!” Lt.-Gen. Bressant howled, referring to Gen. Martin-Adam Barraux, the Chief of the Defence Staff of the Royal Santonian Armed Forces.

“Yessir,” Col. Hulin said as he stood up from his seat and took the dossier. He wanted to go now and not deal with Lt.-Gen. Bressant any further but his curiosity was thoroughly piqued at the bizarre order.

“I’m sure it’s not my position to ask,” Col. Hulin began, “but is the upper echelon of the Cyber Force suspect now, that’s why we’re detaining all of them?”

Lt.-Gen. Bressant straightened back up. “There were only two people who knew about Lt. Kersaint,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant said softly. “Victor and I.”

Col. Hulin nodded. His mind immediately connected the dots.

“I never told anyone here in SRS about Lt. Kersaint. Not even you,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant said. “Which means the leaks are coming from the Cyber Force. Hopefully not Victor himself, but possibly his staff if he spilled it to them.”

“Sir, what if Kersaint was just careless and was discovered by TBB without any leaks from the Cyber Force?”

“Hoël is not careless. His last message to me was that he learned that a high-ranking official from the Santonian military betrayed his infiltrator status to the TBB."

“Merde,” Col. Hulin swore under his breath.

“Do not tell anybody about this. I will deal with Barraux and the King to explain why I am ordering the detention of the entire leadership of the Cyber Force.”

“Yessir.” Col. Hulin saluted his boss before turning to leave.

As Col. Hulin was reaching for the doorknob on his way out, he heard his superior call him back.

“Hulin,” Lt.-Gen. Bressant said, “after you draft and execute the detention order, please arrange for military honours at Lt. Kersaint’s funeral. That kid is a true Bethanian hero, a brave Santonian patriot. It’s the least we could do for his sacrifice.”

“Yessir.”

Artifacts of Krawiterski Dominarz Elisa II
Imperial Archives


[...]

Excerpts from the Diaries of Princess Astrid of Prydania (Krawiterski Dominarz Elisa II)
11. nóvember 1818

I woke up to the strange news that I might become Dominarz. Mama came to me 6'o clock in the morning. She told me I had visitors waiting in my sitting-room. She explained it was urgent, so I went there, alone, in my dressing gown. Had I known that I was receiving a man, a Grand Duke, I would have insisted to change into more appropriate clothes. Without knowledge of what was to follow, it was stranger without the presence of Pabbi or my brother Rikard.

The man turned out to be Friedrich Wilhelm, the Republican Duke. He is one of Chevalier's allies. He rules the Middle Countries, a former possession of the Syrixian Empire. It rebelled during the Callisean Wars and became one of its sister republics. Now, it is rebelling against Chevalier. It was highly unusual, not only because it is a union of Szlavic and Gotic princes, but that it became a republic where the nobles serve as its electors rather than ordinary men, as it happened elsewhere in Callise, Khastenia, and Maloria. The Grand Duke assured me that he prefers a monarchy over most republics. Their republic is unique and is meant to be crowned. I asked, still unaware, about how he was planning to restore the Syrixian emperor as Dominarz in the Middle Countries.

He answered they have no such plan. Instead, the people of the Middle Countries want an independent crown, free from the constraints of powerful houses and their empires. Only then will they be able to secure their rights. That was when he asked me if I would be willing to take up the mantle of Dominarz.

[...]

Pabbi supported the idea as part of the turncoat plan for the Middle Countries. They had begun talks as it became more apparent that the Calliseans will not be able to stop the Andrennians from entering Beaune. The Malorian Republic was defeated last year. Separatist Tristainese nobles, supporters of the House of Gerwin, had been frequently seen at the restored court of Emperor Alwin. In order to preserve the union of the Middle Countries, the Szlavic, Gotic, Tavastite, and loyalist Tristainese princes quickly decided on a form of government that would be sympathetic to the causes of the Nordic Coalition.

He asked me if I would marry a Malorian prince. It is a sensible match. The Malorian Empire suffered the most in the fight against the Calliseans. I asked if it was related to the Grand Duke's offer. Pabbi said it was the only way for it to be acceptable to Emperor Alwin, for the Middle Countries to maintain their miserable existence whole. By betraying Chevalier, electing a Prydanian princess, in matrimony with a Malorian prince, they are escaping with only their tails tucked between their legs.

I was not completely delighted with the idea. Noble electors or not, the Middle Countries was a sister republic, still ruled by the same consul who fought for Chevalier. I would like to keep my head where it is. Pabbi promised that, if they dared to put a finger on me, he would lead his men to liberate me and, if they kill me, sack the Middle Countries before leaving them small, irrelevant kingdoms and principalities. Their entire existence spent on squabbling and splitting up more of their diminished lands. It frightened me. Deep down, with the risk of sounding awful, his words made me feel safe and secure. I wonder if my throne will be the same.

From:Gai.Volk@Bvundza.Ess

Subject: (No subject)

Toby!

i've finally got this damned account set up (yes i picked Bvundza, i liked the animal print designs on the font....this stays between us), its taken me the better part of several years to fully acquaint myself with the internet, but here we are. Seems like a long time since we saw each other, Nurendir and Vivika's wedding is practically a lifetime ago now. I do hope Alycia and the children are doing well, i know you have struggled with the dangers of the world we live in, its odd to think that i might soon be in the same boat with cubs of my own!

That's part of why i am writing to you now, Anegrette has the damned Fohlenfieber*! she's been making nightly assaults that have led me to flee the damned country for Luscova! I am of course joking (partially), im actually here to assist with projects at the Luscova Pact Development Bank, but its also a good excuse to hide from the lady wife! She's due a check up in a months time, if all goes to plan i may soon be a proud father!

I wanted to express my gratitude to both yourself and alycia, the countless military personnel and medical volunteers that came here as part of the pact's mission have been instrumental in saving lives, my wife and countless others are safer during times of need because of our national bonds. Ive been trying to give back in my own small way, im working with the Pact bank to get up and running several charity iniatives, the orphans of Predice and Kosada Fund are intended to give hope to people who have suffered immensely these past few years. I think honestly ive found another calling, NGO work seems to sooth my soul and re-affirms my sense that Essalan's codes can evolve and thrive in the modern world. But i didnt come to bore you with politics that you will no doubt hear in greater detail at our next session.

I hear Maya is settled in her role as a live in wolf, always knew she would, they can sense a good human when they see one! i miss our hunting days, one day i hope you will come back down to the steppe for another adventure, or better yet invite me up to Skogurland(not sure if im spelling that right) for a spot of shooting. Either way i intend to bring a case of beer. Ive had a chest of gifts shipped to Bykonsvidi, a bear fur cloak for Alycia, hand carved toys for the children (don't worry i dissuaded the addition of bladed objects) and i even found some old architecture magazines i thought you might find interesting (apparently some journalist left them here in Vosgotis 80 years back! probably worth something). Most of all though i did wonder if you still ride, now your wife i trust, a good Trien woman is always to be relied upon, i do hope however that you are also maintaining your skills. Ive sent you a hand crafted sadddle, the sort our outriders use for long haul journeys, i hope it serves you well. I Know these past few years have been hard, especially with recent events considered, but you are strong and will weather the storm as your ancestors did before you.

Until we next meet

Gaiseric

Ps. also sent several bones and some dried snacks for Maya

*literally "Foal Fever" an Essalanean term analogous to "baby fever"

Co-written by: @Predice

Governor's Palace, Riga, Skalia, 29 March 1999

"...I am still confident we will be able to see more growth economically. Yes, the war might have been recent. But it's really twelve years ago. Of course, the effects of apartheid are still visible. Now, anything else that is new will soon be up to you and the next Council President."

“I am glad. You have done great work, I am sure your successor will continue to bring growth to Skalia, though I will be sad to see you go…” King Giorgio III pauses for a moment before continuing. “Your service to Skalia, and to the Predicean Union has been magnificent. Accept my sincerest thanks for your tireless service.”

"Thank you, Maestà. That means a lot." Council President Normens Matisons has been staring at the phone. Sometimes, like this moment, the sight of a handset secured on its cradle while calling is an amazing one. They call it a "speaker" function.

He looks away from the telephone to check his desk clock. Their 20 minutes are nearly up. He closes his ministerial leather folder with all the reports compiled by the Cabinet Secretariat.

Matisons is about to finish his last telephone conversation with the King. If he wanted to speak out, it was now or never.

"Maestà. If you would permit me, I would like to make a strange question."

“I would be pleased to answer, Signore Matisons. After all, I have asked many questions of you over these years.”

"Have you seen Predice change between gonfalonieres? W-Well, you must be receiving cabinet reports. O-Of course, you would notice." Matisons pauses to lick his lips.
"What I mean to say is if any gonfaloniere has done real change. Not just a color change in the flag or a lyrical adjustment in the national anthem. But in the soul of Predice. Change that you could see, feel, and hear everywhere. Does that make sense?"

“You know, there are periods where much doesn’t change. These can last for years, but then… then things change.” The King pauses for a moment.
“Change is usually gradual, but there are those Gonfalonieres… they fight and they work hard. They believe in what they’re doing. When they’re in office, things change quicker. Nothing ever stays the same forever, sometimes it moves quicker, sometimes slower. Signore Matisons, for what it’s worth… I believe you fall into the category of people who make a real difference in their time in office. You believe in what you do, and you fight for it. I’m glad to have had the opportunity to have you as Council President of Skalia.”

"Yes. Thank you, Maestà." Matisons nods, as if the King was right in front of him.
"I'm sorry if I sound like a broken clock. I-I'm only concerned if we didn't push harder. Apartheid only ended in the previous decade. Did we really deliver justice? We might have granted amnesty to too many people. Some of those accused of crimes against humanity are still on the run. There were witnesses who died on my watch." Matisons looks at the files on his desk with the logo of the Predicean Union Ministry of Affairs. One title read Caminia and the other read Prydania.
"It doesn't help that I'm reminded every day. The fall of communism in Caminia. The fascists in Prydania. The press has been questioning our work on truth and reconciliation."

The King is silent for a moment.
“Justice is an interesting thing. It is perceived in many ways by different people. I look at it this way, were many of those amnestied complicit in the crimes committed, willingly or otherwise? Definitely, that is indisputable. Have some of the criminals escaped justice? Yes. Those are the facts, now what do we do? Those who escaped justice abroad will not escape it forever, one way or another they will face their day in court, be it in front of a judge or in front of the Almighty. Those we amnestied have a new chance at life to atone for the sins they have committed, not everyone can reasonably be prosecuted for crimes committed by a nation as a whole, nor should they. Prosecuting them won’t bring back those who were killed, it won’t fix the decades of oppression. Our job is to do the next right thing. To do right by all Skalians…” the King takes another pause before continuing:
“All massive prosecutions can do now is to create a cycle of hurt and pain. Those responsible at the highest levels will face justice, be it tomorrow of fifty years from now. As for the press, it’s their job to question, and it’s our responsibility to keep doing what’s right for our people. What’s happening in Caminia will one day happen in Prydania too, these regimes never last indefinitely, and someday soon, the instigators in Prydania will also face justice. I believe in God’s plan, and in good time, all will fall into place as it should.”

"I agree. We better pray it happens sooner." The King certainly give him a lot to think about. It put a small smile on Matisons's face. Small because he cannot help but be doubtful. Matisons checks the desk clock. 1 minute overtime. "Well, this is it. It has been an honor, Maestà."

“It has been a pleasure, Signore Matisons. Best of luck. If you’d like, myself and my family would be honored to host you and your family for dinner sometime soon. Keep in touch with my office if you like that.”

"That would be a tremendous honor, Maestà. My family and I would like that, too."

The call ended. Matisons said goodbye without informing the King about the upcoming general election. He presses his forehead down on his steepled hands.

His national unity coalition, the Popular Front for Truth and Reconciliation, has collapsed. He felt more guilty after hearing and accepting the dinner invitation. He did say anything else new would be for the new Council President to discuss. Hopefully, his United Reform Alliance will gain a sufficient majority. Otherwise, the Predicean Union will have to deal with an obnoxious Neo-Pagan gang of communist ex-terrorists and student activists. Matisons might be desperate enough to work with Popular Unity, less of a party and more of an elitist club for oligarchs and rich intellectuals. May the Gods help us!

Matisons stands up from his desk chair, turns to face the window behind him, and watch the activity in the palace courtyard. The movers went back and forth between their van and the last stack of boxes, taking one after another. He starts thinking about what people will think about his leadership.

Did he have enough time to change Skalia? It felt like, instead of creating a new united nation, he created multiple ones.