History of Lourenne

Pre-Colonial History
Due to a lack of written records, little detail is known about the extensive history of the indigenous people of Lourenne. Archaeologists believe that the ancient kingdoms existed for several centuries, and fragments found in several palaces in southern Kundir suggest that the old Mayan historical records were lost in the bloody Godless Wars that came to a close shortly before the arrival of the first Rildanorian missionaries. Oral traditions, many of which were transferred to paper during the Colonial Era, are rich and detailed, though their vast diversity and intentional inclusion of mythology limit their use to contemporary historians. Traditional stories from across Lourenne, however, frequently mention an ancient 'mother civilization' known as the Olmec Empire, and archaeologists have made several findings in the country's more remote regions that support these claims. Though little can be determined regarding Olmec history, it is apparent that they were quite advanced. Artifacts and inscriptions found in the few surviving Olmec temples show that they invented their own system of writing and possessed a calendar based on relatively advanced mathematical concepts. Modern linguists have also noted that similarities between the various indigenous writing systems of the later civilizations indicate a common root in the Olmec language. According to traditional myths, the Olmecs were ruled by a council of incarnate gods. However, a conflict, generally attributed to some sort of romantic jealousy, led to the council's dissolution and the creation of the five great kingdoms of the ancient period.

The largest and most influential of the latter kingdoms was the Mayan Empire. The Mayan civilization, originating in Alvium, spread to encompass all of Kundir and Kreshar prior to its collapse in the 18th century. Like the other kingdoms, the Mayans worshiped their monarch as a god, though, much to the ire of their neighbors, they insisted that their emperor was 'the King of the Gods.' This belief drove the Mayans to conquer lesser tribes and demand tribute from other kingdoms. The once extensive Xinca and Miskito kingdoms were driven into the isolated mountains of the Barrier Range during their centuries of resistance, and it is believed that the Mayans slaughtered many of their people during intermittent wars. Only the Zapotec and Mixtec were able to keep Mayan aggression in check, maintaining prosperous kingdoms on the Haboves Peninsula. Beyond their aggressive warrior culture, the Mayans were deeply religious. Despite the challenges presented by hostile terrain, the Mayans constructed several marvelous temple-cities across eastern Lourenne, many of which still stand today. Mayan beliefs involved a complex cosmology which led them to develop an intricate knowledge of astronomy. Many calculations and observations found inscribed in ancient temples have proven surprisingly accurate. The Mayans, unlike the preceding Olmec civilization, were pantheistic instead of polytheistic. The Mayans did not believe in discrete gods, but one god, Ahau, who took on different aspects. The Mayan Emperor, of course, was considered the dominant aspect, and anything that opposed him, be it a rival kingdom or natural disaster, was considered to be an incarnation of his lesser instincts. The principle Mayan holy book, the Popol Vuh, was one of the few religious texts that survived the ancient and colonial eras, and in recent years, a few nationalists have started studying the book as one means of restoring an 'authentic' cultural identity.

Historically opposed to the Mayan Empire were the Mixtec and Zapotec kingdoms which thrived on the Haboves Peninsula. Though quite distinct, the Mixtec and Zapotec enjoyed a long history of peaceful coexistence, a fact attributed to their shared mythology. According to both cultures' legends, their kingdoms were ruled by the gods of rain (the Zapotecs' Cocijo) and light (the Mixtecs' Coquihani), whose marriage created life. In reality, however, the monarchs of both kingdoms were almost always male, though an annual tradition involved each king giving the other a concubine who represented the fertility of their people. The Mixtec and Zapotec also both believed the Mayan Emperor was the incarnation of Tzontemoc, the god of death, whose jealousy they blame for causing the fall of the Olmec Empire. Culturally, the Zapotec (which roughly translates to 'inhabitants of the place of the fruit') were a sedentary and opulent civilization that deeply valued luxury. Living in cities along the Habovesian coast, the Zapotec developed numerous agricultural innovations and were rarely in want of food. The Zapotec were, however, deeply devout, and made frequent sacrifices to their God-King. Generally considered the more volatile of the two primary Habovesian deities, the hurricanes that often battered their coastal cities were attributed to his dissatisfaction, and consequently, the late summers were a time of especially extravagant (and often violent) sacrificial rituals.

Living in the southeastern hills of Haboves were the Mixtec (or 'cloud people'). Though usually considered more docile (a characteristic also attributed to their God-King), the Mixtec were also exceptional warriors and historically served as defenders of the Haboves Peninsula as a whole. Their battle prowess was greatly enhanced by their skill in mining and craftsmanship. The Mixtec, who also associated Coquihani with fire, are believed to be the first of the ancient kingdoms to make predominant use of metal weapons and armor, a practice which quickly spread among their hated rivals, the Mayans. The Mixtecs' skill with metal also led to the development of a standard currency, as well as especially intricate jewelry. Mixtec jewelry is, in fact, one of the few indigenous art forms to survive the Colonial Era wholly intact, as Rildanorian traders made a fortune selling their exotic earrings and necklaces overseas. Tragically, most of the more spectacular artifacts described and occasionally sketched by early colonists were melted down by traders to provide materials for more 'transportable' goods. Local legend says that any jewelry or coin made from these religious icons are cursed, and any who possess them are destined to meet a gruesome end. This legend is believed to have originated with the well known fate of the Gorgon, a massive Rildanorian galleon destroyed by a hurricane after it had been loaded with a small fortune in gold bars created from ancient discs depicting the marriage of Cocijo and Coquihani.

Less is known about the once influential Xinca and Miskito civilizations, largely on account of the fact that they had already been driven to the furthest southern fringes of Kreshar and Kundir by the time that the first Rildanorians arrived in Haboves. In general, these kingdoms are considered to have been less developed than their northern neighbors, as they favored a largely nomadic lifestyle and created few permanent settlements. Oral traditions retained by today's Xinca and Miskito populations insist that both civilizations initially had God-Kings, though the reason for their disappearance has long been lost to obscure myth. The Xinca claim that their God-King decided to abandon his human incarnation to better protect his people, a myth which serves as the foundation of their animistic mysticism. Miskito myth, on the other hand, claims their god was eaten alive by conquering Mayans, a belief which led to the morbid iconography that can be seen today in the skeleton-adorned flag adopted by Miskito separatists.

In the early 18th century, the era of the ancient kingdoms came to an end with the infamous Godless Wars that triggered the rapid decline of the indigenous civilizations. These protracted conflicts began with the mysterious murder of a young Mixtec king, an act that eventually came to be attributed to Mayan assassins. The leaderless Mixtec kingdom was driven into a collective rage, and their warriors poured into Mayan lands without restraint. The ensuing conflict was extraordinarily vicious and resulted in the destruction of several Mixtec and Mayan cities. It ended, however, when a group of influential Mixtec priests produced a child that they claimed was the new reincarnation of Coquihani. The child, prodded by the nervous priests, demanded an end to the war, and the majority of the people followed. A few powerful Mixtec warriors, however, doubted the child's legitimacy and continued to hunger for vengeance. Eventually, one of their ranks infiltrated the Mayan capital and succeeded in assassinating their mighty emperor. The high priests of the Mayans, not nearly as cautious as their Mixtec counterparts, were not hesitant to retaliate with their full might. Massive Mayan armies, the likes of which had never been seen, collided with the Mixtecs' formidable line of hillside fortresses, and for the first time in the history of the ancient kingdoms, they penetrated the interior of the Haboves Peninsula. The Mayans quickly overran their enemies, spreading the bloodshed to the shores of the Antonese Ocean, and in a horrific display of savagery, they paraded the corpses of the Mixtec and Zapotec God-Kings through the streets of the Zapotec capital. Their intent was to refute the essential divinity of the two monarchs, and their success in doing so marked the true end of the ancient kingdoms.

In the decades that followed, each of the three civilizations fractured into small, warring tribes. The death of the God-Kings left no grounds for political unity, as even the old religions had been cast into doubt. In time, the great kingdoms devolved into a chaotic mass of battered and disillusioned people. The inhabitants of these lands were nationless and godless, exhausted from war and harrowed by famine. Amidst the ruins of their crumbling temples, the people of what would soon be Lourenne were ripe for conquest.

The Colonial Era (1844 to 2286)


The first known 'Westerners' to encounter the indigenous peoples of Lourenne were Luthori colonists from Hulstria in the 17th century. These expeditions brought back tales of inhospitable, resource-poor swamps and hostile natives that, for a time, discouraged further attempts to colonize the region. It was purely a twist of fate, then, that a massive hurricane sent a small vessel of Rildanorian missionaries, originally destined for Hulstria, crashing onto the western shore of Haboves. The ship's captain, a devout merchant named Mathieu Dessaigne, was among the few survivors, and he led his remaining crewmen and passengers inland in search of shelter. There, they discovered a small Zapotec village who welcomed the strange men into their midst after Dessaigne offered them a chest of fine fabrics that he had salvaged from the wreckage. So, as the popular saying goes, 'Lourenne was born from a trade.' After a few days living among the Zapotec, Dessaigne resolved to look for help. Leaving the missionaries with the villagers, he and his crewmen fashioned a crude barge from the remains of their ship, loaded it with supplies, and set sail northward along the shore. Dessaigne's diary from this time describes his first encounters with the great (though, in actuality, crumbling) cities of the Zapotec, and his treacherous journey across the Bahia del Lodo that ended in his rescue by a Luthori caravel. The only survivor of this bold expedition, Dessaigne became convinced that he had been chosen by God to bring the true Orthodox Catholic Church to the Zapotec, and so, fearing the land would be taken by the non-Orthodox Luthori, he did not speak of his discovery for the entire time from his rescue to his journey back to Rildanor. Upon arriving in his homeland, however, he was quick to tell his patrons of the fertile pagan lands across the sea, and in time, he was granted an audience with the royal family. Rildanor's king, Louis X, was so impressed by the intricate and poetic descriptions offered by the pious Dessaigne, he agreed to finance a full colonial expedition under Dessaigne's leadership. After ordering six galleons to be prepared for Dessaigne's command, the king asked, "So, what do they call these idyllic lands at the world's edge?" Dessaigne, realizing the Zapotec had never offered a name for the land itself, hesitated for a moment, and then uttered the name of the young wife he had lost fifteen years before, "Lourenne."

Dessaigne's second expedition did not arrive in Lourenne until 1860. Upon returning to the first village he had encountered, he found the missionaries thriving peacefully among the natives. Having learned the Zapotec language, the missionaries were able to serve as translators, and they revealed that the natives had taken eagerly to the Christian faith. Though it would be decades before the indigenous peoples of Lourenne truly began to grasp the alien concepts of Orthodox Catholicism, the faith, in its crudest form, sated their long desire to comprehend the schism between mortality and divinity. The notion of an incarnate God who had to die to realize his divinity dawned on the Zapotec (and eventually, the Mixtec and Mayans) as a moment of spiritual liberation. Over the next forty years, the colonists used the faith to pacify the natives and establish themselves in their coastal communities. However, after the death of Dessaigne in 1881, the colonial leaders became increasingly cruel and exploitative. With the arrival of Viceroy Salomon de Montrosier, the Colonial Era began its darkest phase. The brother of a powerful feudal lord, de Montrosier brought the first colonial soldiers to Lourenne and began a brutal campaign of conquest. In the wake of his aggressive advance towards Kreshar, the fragmented communities of the Mixtec attempted to wage a unified war against the colonists, but they were no match for the Rildanorians' advanced weaponry. From 1896 to 1942, de Montrosier and his successors waged a merciless war of expansion that brought the borders of Lourenne to the eastern and southern ends of the old Mayan Empire. During this time, the indigenous peoples of Lourenne were subjected to starvation and slavery, having only their new faith to turn to for solace.

During the mid-20th century, social upheaval in Rildanor brought a radical shift to the colonial order in Lourenne. With conflict at home, the office of viceroy was abolished and the royal family ceded administrative powers to private trading companies. These companies, more interested in profit than imperial glory, had no desire to care for demanding Rildanorian immigrants and soldiers. They began to hire natives to administrative positions, and the largest of the companies, the Ducret-Levene Mercantile Co., created a private army composed entirely of well-paid Mixtecs. By 2100, Lourenne had been completely transformed. Slavery was nothing more than a bad memory, Rildanorians were marrying Mayans, Zapotecs were attending modernized schools, and perhaps most important of all, the trading companies were making higher profits selling goods to the natives than they were trading with the home country. For the indigenous peoples, the opportunity for social mobility resulted in the rapid dissolution of the old culture. The natives now aspired to be 'proper Rildanorians'. They adopted Rildanorian dress, they read Rildanorian literature, they played Rildanorian music, they had Rildanorian names, and even in the southernmost areas of Kundir, Rildanorian-French was the first language a native child learned. Still, however, the majority of natives languished in poverty, and as the years went by, the social order became more rigid. An informal caste system solidified with a wealthy merchant class ruling indifferently over hundreds of thousands of struggling laborers.

Consequently, modernization proved to be a double-edge sword. In 2146, the first labor strike hit a city in northern Alvium, provoked by a young Mayan factory worker who had been influenced by priests returning from their studies in Rildanor with radical doctrines espousing universal rights and democracy. Indeed, the natives wanted 'to be like Rildanor', so naturally, they began to aspire to the same egalitarian society that the citizens of Rildanor had fought for in the prior century. As democratic ideals spread throughout Lourenne, the merchant families that had come to dominate the colonial government grew nervous. They appealed to their mother country for aid, but Rildanor's government, ever entrenched in more pressing conflicts, refused to dispatch their foreign legions unless rebellion was imminent. By 2230, the democratic movement had combined with a resurgent sense of nativist pride, and that year, massive riots broke out in Lourenne's major cities. Native administrators in the colonial government appealed for calm, but they could not contain an anger that had been brewing for centuries. Following the seizure of a Rildanorian merchant vessel, the merchant families were finally able to convince Rildanor to help them crack down on the dissident laborers, and in the spring of 2231, Rildanor's dreaded Foreign Legion landed on the shores of Lourenne in force. The riots came to a quick and violent end, but where many natives had previously been hesitant to denounce Rildanor altogether, the brutality of the Foreign Legion almost instantly turned Lourenne's idealistic democratic movement into a belligerent anti-colonial movement. Surprisingly, the native Lourennians found support overseas. Anti-imperialist sentiment had grown strong among the middle class in Rildanor, and the government found itself under increasing pressure to withdraw its forces.

After the riots of 2230, the democratic movement largely dissolved. The majority of native laborers had grown less interested in lofty ideals of democracy, and now obsessed with overthrowing foreign oppression at any cost. In fact, where the first calls for reform had originally come from Zapotec intellectuals, the anti-colonial movement had now come to be dominated by the more rural Mayan population, many of whom had long been angry with the Zapotec and Mixtec for what they perceived as centuries of complicity with the colonial regime. During this time, the Orthodox Catholic Church also began a gradual but persistent decline in Lourenne, as many came to see it as just another extension of imperialist power. In 2252, Mayan militant groups launched what is now known as 'the Jaguar Offensive', a brilliantly orchestrated guerilla campaign that brought the foreign legion companies stationed in the swamps of Kreshar and Alvium to their knees. Only a year later, Rildanor withdrew its forces to the coastal cities, much to the anger of the colonial government. In 2258, however, the colonial government convinced Rildanor to attempt one more offensive to crush the Mayan militias. The ensuing conflict, now known as the Slow War, was exceptionally bloody despite its name. Employing highly unorthodox strategies, the rebel militants were able to defeat their conventionally superior enemies by disrupting supply lines and avoiding direct battles. For the Foreign Legion, desertion and disease inflicted far more casualties than the militants themselves, as they struggled to pursue outmoded strategies in Lourenne's naturally hostile environment. The Legionaries could take a town, but they could not hold a river. They could win a skirmish, but they could not pursue a militia into the deep swamps. In 2270, facing incredible losses and growing dissent among its middle class, Rildanor began to withdraw from Lourenne altogether, leaving the colonial government with only its own armies for protection.

In the following weeks, the Revolution of Lourenne came into being. The Mayan militants, however, discovered that independence would not be won as easily as they had hoped. Though small, the merchant families' private armies maintained a stranglehold on Lourenne's cities and industries, and though the Mayans had the support of their own people, the more conservative Zapotecs and Mixtecs had long been alienated from their anti-colonialist movement. Consequently, most of the natives in Haboves resolved to remain neutral as the merchant families fortified themselves against the Mayan onslaught. By 2276, the conflict appeared to have come to a stalemate, but in reality, lack of access to natural resources had brought the economies of Lourenne's eastern cities to the brink of collapse. The merchant families themselves had been brought to the brink of bankruptcy, and their armies were held together only by fear of the militants' retribution. Recognizing the colonial government's impending collapse, a small alliance of ambitious and wealthy natives realized that an alternative solution was needed. Calling themselves the Native Council, they met in secret from 2277 to 2279 to orchestrate an ambitious plan to both preserve the old order and end the bloodshed. Led by a Mixtec lawyer named Thomas Cheval, the alliance carried out a bloodless coup in 2280 by bribing the commanders of the colonial army. The merchant families, suddenly lacking both money and soldiers, quickly fled Lourenne, and the members of the Native Council, many of whom already held high office in the colonial government, quietly took the reins of power. In the months that followed, the Native Council declared that Lourenne's indigenous people now controlled the government and appealed to the Mayan militias to cease their attacks. However, the militia leaders, many of whom had dreamed of power for themselves, felt cheated, and they vowed to continue their war until 'a true revolution' was realized. Yet, with Thomas Cheval rising to the role of colonial governor and many natives (even some Mayans) being appointed to run the remnants of the old trade companies, the majority of the Mayans, utterly exhausted and impoverished by war, began to demand reconciliation. In 2285, all but a few of the militia leaders agreed to come to the bargaining table. The negotiations were long and chaotic, but by 2286, a compromise had been reached. The Mayan militias would lay down their arms, but only if the colonial government declared its independence from Rildanor. And so, as the famous saying goes, 'Lourenne was born from a trade.'

The First Republic (2287 to 2374)


The Revolution of Lourenne is often jokingly referred to as 'the Full Revolution', a pun pointing to the fact that it ended with very little structural change. After years of warfare, the merchant class and its trading companies were still the dominant political force, though now, indigenous Lourennians had risen to the prime positions of power. Thomas Cheval, the architect of this compromise resolution, was a figure of rare genius. Burdened with the task of transforming Lourenne into a sovereign state, he was keenly aware that his first task had to be the distribution of the appearance of responsibility. Thus, he divided executive power among three consuls, one to be held by each of the three major ethnic groups. The consulate would rule by majority vote to ensure that the Zapotec and the Mixtec would be able to keep the Mayan consul in check. Originally, Cheval had envisioned there being four consuls, the final being selected from among the Rildanorian population, but the Mayan militias threatened to break their truce if a Rildanorian were to serve as head of state, even if only as one of four. To ensure stability and continuity, Cheval and his Zapotec counterpart, Ahmok Laskine, drafted a constitution that kept power firmly in the hands of the consuls. The consuls selected government officials, as well as their successors, and popular representation was limited to elected advisors.

Lourenne's Declaration of Sovereignty, formally announced in 2289, initially drew threats of retaliation from Rildanor, but Cheval's diplomatic prowess helped prevent a full-scale war. Rildanor was given 'privileged trader status', a move that infuriated many in Lourenne (and would continue to until the fall of the First Republic), but one that decisively ensured the nation's independence. After decades of rebellion and economic deterioration, the seventy years that followed the First Republic's creation were a time of gradual reconstruction and social change. Despite the oligarchic government, the citizens of Lourenne were slowly given civil rights that they had never before possessed, and as the old trade companies fractured in the absence of the Rildanorian merchant families, newly emerging industries brought an era of shared economic prosperity to the people. Still, neither Cheval nor his successors could solve all the problems of the old system. Corrupt nepotists consolidated power, the ethnic division of the Consulate fueled ancient tensions, new generations rediscovered their grandparents' radicalism in the face of a rigid class system, and with the arrival of inevitable recessions, discontent spread to nearly every facet of society.

In the summer of 2374, a crippling economic depression produced a sudden and chaotic civil war, as Mayan radicals took to the streets of the eastern cities demanding proportional representation for their people. The Consulate, in a panic, deployed the military to violently suppress the protesters, a move that only enraged a widely unhappy population. In reaction, Mayan militias, supported by several mutinied companies of Lourenne's army, flooded into Haboves, and in a grim reflection of the ancient Godless War, the rebels publicly executed the Zapotec and Mixtec consuls. The government collapsed almost instantly, and many of Lourenne's wealthier citizens fled the country. The economy went from bad to worse as crime and famine became regular aspects of everyday life. Loosely organized and ideologically diverse, the rebels could offer only one solution: elections.

The Second and Third Republics (2375 to 2407)


The elections of 2375 ushered in the short-lived Second Republic. As no formal political parties existed, the people chose from their local leaders, and seats in the newly established parliament were distributed along strictly proportional lines. Voter fraud was rampant, however, and lists of 'banned persons' ensured that over 90% of the seats would go to long-standing supporters of the rebel movement, most of whom were Mayan. Though this led to frequent accusations of illegitimacy, the new regime vowed to move forward. Situated in an old colonial palace on the northern coast of Kreshar, two large voting blocs emerged: the militant federalists of the New Revolution Alliance and the leftist nationalists of the Unity Coalition. The New Revolution Alliance held a slim majority, though under the rules of the new constitution, this was all that was needed to impose nearly absolute rule. Soon after party loyalties cemented, Balthazar de Kundir, a well-regarded leader of the rebel movement, was chosen to replace the provisional prime minister.

The New Revolution Alliance's goal was to dismantle the remaining vestiges of the colonial order. This involved an ambitious program of reform, focused primarily on empowering provincial governments, a measure they hoped would give locals more power over the cultivation and sale of their natural resources. In one of the few lasting changes the New Revolution Alliance instituted, Kreshar was divided in two to prevent the wealthier industrial north from dominating the agrarian south. The boldest reform, however, was a series of 'labor reparation' initiatives, a wealth redistribution program they hoped would finally put an end to Lourenne's class system. Resistance among Lourenne's merchant class was fierce, however, and despite Prime Minister de Kundir's imposing presence, there was too little civil cooperation to bring this program to fruition.

In 2380, new elections were held. Aided by a stagnant economy and widespread perception that the new government unfairly favored rural laborers, the Unity Coalition greatly expanded its share of parliament. Where the New Revolution Alliance's majority had been slim, the Unity Coalition came to hold 65% of the seats, an outcome that most saw as a mandate to repeal many of the first parliament's more drastic reforms. However, the Unity Coalition soon ran into controversy itself. It re-privatized numerous industries, returning them to the wealthy industrialists and traders who had briefly fled the country during the chaos of 2374. In 2383, radical militants stormed several factories in New Kreshar and commandeered them 'for the nation', and initially, the government remained quiet. Both sides' moves proved a miscalculation, as large segments of the population were dually outraged that militants would betray the Second Republic and that the government would let this occur. Bowing to pressure, Saul Gachet, a Mayan academic who had risen to the office of prime minister, declared martial law in the eastern provinces, publicly declaring that parliament had to decisively legitimize itself through force. Though many supported this measure, the New Revolution Alliance and its allies angrily insisted that Gachet was overreaching. When the Republican Army, which had been greatly expanded in the first two years of the Unity Coalition's rule, seized a militia fortress in Kreshar, Balthazar de Kundir led his party out of parliament, threatening civil war if Prime Minister Gachet did not restrain himself. An emboldened Gachet, however, would not back down, and direct conflict between Republican forces and federalist militias soon flared. This time, however, the rebels found large portions of the Mayan population unwilling to support them. They were able to maintain their resistance, but they lacked the popular influence needed to mount retaliatory offensives.

In 2385, Prime Minister Gachet canceled the elections, and vowing to unify the country once and for all, he dissolved the Second Republic, rewriting the constitution to give himself authoritarian power. The move was unpopular, but Gachet had been careful to secure the support of both the merchant class and the military, using money from the former to bribe and modernize the latter. By this time, the Republican Army was, truly, a pan-Lourennian force, which diminished the effectiveness of the militias' usual tactic of provoking ethnic tension. By 2391, the militias were largely subdued, and Gachet, now calling himself President of the Third Republic, declared victory. Shortly after, however, he was assassinated by an unaffiliated anarchist, leaving behind no obvious successor. The government, hesitant to hold elections out of fear that it would only embolden federalist rebels and hinder the reconciliation process, voted amongst themselves to select Emmanuel Saint-Jean, a charismatic trade magnate, as president. Saint-Jean had largely purchased his support, though he was known in the nationalist political sphere for his populist public image. Saint-Jean maintained martial law for several more years while he consolidated power among his allies in industry, all the while promising elections at the end of his self-imposed six-year tenure. The elections never came, and when Saint-Jean stepped down, the presidency was assumed by a loyal bureaucrat determined to maintain this new order.

The New Kingdom of Lourenne (2408 to 2436)


Experiencing stability and economic growth for the first time in generations, the population allowed this corrupt charade to play out. Resistance groups launched occasional campaigns of industrial sabotage, but their membership was too sparse and ideological differences too great to foment an effective rebel movement. Yet, in time, oligarchy and complacency give way to tyranny, and in 2408, Charles Merovici, a cunning industrialist from a well-connected family, took the presidency through a campaign of murder and extortion. Merovici publicly carried himself with a pride and dignity befitting his distinguished lineage, a family history that could be traced back to both Zapotec priests and Rildanorian nobility, but in private, he was a tortured megalomaniac. His commanding presence drew people to him, but he was consumed by paranoia and delusion. Consequently, he wielded power like a hammer. People were either enemies to be crushed or raw material to be violently shaped according to his whims. In his first few years in power, Merovici executed hundreds of perceived political opponents, forced buy-outs of his rivals' companies to benefit himself, and vastly expanded the army into an oppressive police force. In the early months of 2410, he reached the pinnacle of this campaign of terror by making the dubious assertion that he descended from the old royal line of Rildanor. Shortly after, he declared himself King of Lourenne.

Merovici's reign as king was a time of totalitarian oppression and economic crisis. Merovici discarded the Third Republic's already undemocratic constitution, stripping away the few civil rights it provided. Merovici, keenly aware of the natural balance of power in Lourenne, lavishly funded his military at the expense of the nation's infrastructure. This policy that permitted him to live in luxury, but for Lourenne, his erratic and self-centered actions led to economic decline and, eventually, international embargoes. In 2417, Merovici waged a war of aggression against Sekowo, an expansive campaign that humiliated Lourenne and sent the nation spiraling into bankruptcy. Merovici, however, simply exploited these crises as further excuses to centralize power in his hand. By 2420, hatred of 'King Charles' was nearly universal, but anyone who voiced opposition quickly met their death at the hands of his brutal henchmen, the Royal Secret Police.

In 2432, after it was revealed that Merovici was funding fascist rebels in Sekowo, an alliance of larger nations began a bombing campaigning with the hopes of driving him from power. The campaign devastated Lourenne, but it did little to shake Merovici's grip on power. The tempestuous monarch simply responded with grandiose threats against the international community, a posture that was met with increasingly grave warnings of invasion. Finally, in 2437, as an international fleet of warships gathered in the Bahia del Lodo, Merovici's personal guard turned against him. The chief of his secret police personally shot him in the stomach and chest in the secure confines of his own luxurious palace. Merovici bled to death on the commode, as his own bodyguards made plans to replace him.