Armande paused. He remembered the world, God help him. The fall of the Soviet Union and the growth of the EU. American hegemony. The violence of Rwanda and the Balkans. The spread of terrorism and the world-wide response. Putin, Erdogan, Kim- and other authoritarian rulers.
Nationalism, the biggest cancer to infect the planet, shivering apart the bonds between nations that had been slowly forming for decades, that had pulled humanity back from the certainty of nuclear anihilation. Radicalization had become very real yanking back and forth as peoples were pulled in one direction or the other.
Whatever else he was, Nikolai had stemmed much of that extremism and violence simply through the creation of the ASU and its Dominances, following the Roman pattern of removing and replacing local governments. To be sure, there was considerable push back, especially at the beginning. But the economic and military might of the risen ASU and then CCD was irresistible.
At what point did the common people, the soldiers and businessmen, continue to prop up and back the old forms of government when the new one brought a massive flood of goods and money, of alliances and access to markets? Those members of Houses and Halls, of Ministries and Magesteriums, who refused to accede and integrate found themselves cut from the very power and influence they craved so much.
It was a brilliant system, Armande knew, nearly bloodless as country after country willfully joined the confederation, just as Bythinia and Pergamum had done with the Roman Republic. And the smart ruling classes easily shifted into the new system. All of this, in only a handful of years.
Peace was well and truly on its way.
Despite himself, he found himself wondering, had fate been different, had Nikolai gone to Syracuse or he to Bologna, what might have happened. He looked at Nikolai across the table thoughtfully. The man who thought himself a god. "I didn't choose to be your enemy, Nikolai," he said quietly. "In another life, we might have been friends. If we had gone to school together, you, me, Vladislavovna, Bykov, Valentin- all of us- yes... Your inner group." A slight smile. "Yes. We know about that too. I would have been there beside you. Not as your servant, of course. That is not my nature any more than it is yours. But as your friend and counselor..."
But logic was logic, the engine chugging on inexorably, unstopably, to the truth. To the reality. He clenched his jaw, the fire returning. "And the wars would come. Come, Nikolai, you are not as naive as this! Destruction is coming. Not because of this struggle between us. The enemies that sharpen their blades against you- against this world you have created- are out there now." He waved his hand angrily, voice hardening.
"And not just your enemies. Those who would be enemies against each other, god against god, vying for control. These 'Ascendants' walk the earth, each step they take telling them the world is theirs to own and control. A person cannot think themselves a 'god' and then walk small. It is not a nature of humanity. The earth will fracture under these wars. You are one man, regardless of the power you command. You cannot hope to defeat them all. Those you would trust to stand by your side- Vellas, DuBois- can you trust them? Your Rods of Dominion? A mere dozen? No, you would need an army of Ascendants- any one of whom could and would see the need to submit as something asked of lesser men. Gods on every side. A powder keg, only the powder keeps growing and growing, until..."
Logic. It was blindingly obvious. He despaired of reaching the man. No. He knew it would never happen. Lissandra's face floated before his eyes, clear and smiling, full of fire and life and pain stabbed into his heart as sorrow washed over his face. A perversion of John 3:16 whispered in his mind. For Armande Nicodemus so loved the world that he gave up his only Daughter, in order that the world might be safe for them all. "You cannot know the sacrifices I have made. Who and what I have given up to save mankind", his voice strained. "I cannot let this happen again, no matter the cost." he said earnestly.
Nationalism, the biggest cancer to infect the planet, shivering apart the bonds between nations that had been slowly forming for decades, that had pulled humanity back from the certainty of nuclear anihilation. Radicalization had become very real yanking back and forth as peoples were pulled in one direction or the other.
Whatever else he was, Nikolai had stemmed much of that extremism and violence simply through the creation of the ASU and its Dominances, following the Roman pattern of removing and replacing local governments. To be sure, there was considerable push back, especially at the beginning. But the economic and military might of the risen ASU and then CCD was irresistible.
At what point did the common people, the soldiers and businessmen, continue to prop up and back the old forms of government when the new one brought a massive flood of goods and money, of alliances and access to markets? Those members of Houses and Halls, of Ministries and Magesteriums, who refused to accede and integrate found themselves cut from the very power and influence they craved so much.
It was a brilliant system, Armande knew, nearly bloodless as country after country willfully joined the confederation, just as Bythinia and Pergamum had done with the Roman Republic. And the smart ruling classes easily shifted into the new system. All of this, in only a handful of years.
Peace was well and truly on its way.
Despite himself, he found himself wondering, had fate been different, had Nikolai gone to Syracuse or he to Bologna, what might have happened. He looked at Nikolai across the table thoughtfully. The man who thought himself a god. "I didn't choose to be your enemy, Nikolai," he said quietly. "In another life, we might have been friends. If we had gone to school together, you, me, Vladislavovna, Bykov, Valentin- all of us- yes... Your inner group." A slight smile. "Yes. We know about that too. I would have been there beside you. Not as your servant, of course. That is not my nature any more than it is yours. But as your friend and counselor..."
But logic was logic, the engine chugging on inexorably, unstopably, to the truth. To the reality. He clenched his jaw, the fire returning. "And the wars would come. Come, Nikolai, you are not as naive as this! Destruction is coming. Not because of this struggle between us. The enemies that sharpen their blades against you- against this world you have created- are out there now." He waved his hand angrily, voice hardening.
"And not just your enemies. Those who would be enemies against each other, god against god, vying for control. These 'Ascendants' walk the earth, each step they take telling them the world is theirs to own and control. A person cannot think themselves a 'god' and then walk small. It is not a nature of humanity. The earth will fracture under these wars. You are one man, regardless of the power you command. You cannot hope to defeat them all. Those you would trust to stand by your side- Vellas, DuBois- can you trust them? Your Rods of Dominion? A mere dozen? No, you would need an army of Ascendants- any one of whom could and would see the need to submit as something asked of lesser men. Gods on every side. A powder keg, only the powder keeps growing and growing, until..."
Logic. It was blindingly obvious. He despaired of reaching the man. No. He knew it would never happen. Lissandra's face floated before his eyes, clear and smiling, full of fire and life and pain stabbed into his heart as sorrow washed over his face. A perversion of John 3:16 whispered in his mind. For Armande Nicodemus so loved the world that he gave up his only Daughter, in order that the world might be safe for them all. "You cannot know the sacrifices I have made. Who and what I have given up to save mankind", his voice strained. "I cannot let this happen again, no matter the cost." he said earnestly.