Auveki, Phanóma

Pacifica
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1

Hi!

This post is just an OOC note from me, but everything else in this topic is IC unless otherwise mentioned.

I’ve been planning a Phanama roleplay for a while so, to keep me from getting in my way further, I’m putting out the first post today and we’ll see where it goes from there. The next couple of posts will be in the first person so you get to know who Ros Bjòrandi was during the run-up to last year’s elections. That said, I’ll probably switch to the third person later to make it easier to write different perspectives.

Auve is Phanaman for water, and Phanóma is Phanama. The ‘-ki’ is a grammatical thing but, right now, it’s not important for the story.

Once the story catches up to the present day, feel free to have your countries/leaders/other characters react to any events here that might concern/be of interest to them. I don’t want to get bogged down in the details of what information they would and wouldn’t have access to right now, but we’ll cross that bridge when needed.

Thanks!

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6 February 2023
Milina, Declevis

I set my tea on the stove before heading to the desk by my sewing machine. Though they weren’t particularly urgent, I finished all my jobs last night — a couple of shirts, skirts, dresses and trousers — so I check through them for the umpteenth time before ironing them, folding them, and placing them in their bags with a thank-you-note for their owners’ trust in my work.

I pour my tea into a flask and make my way to deliver the clothes to their owners’ homes. Once I’m done, I look at my watch to see that it’s 4:15 am. I’m about to miss my train.

The moonlit hills of Declevis roll by my window as I take tiny sips of my tea. It’s solely for this view that I try to get seats on the right-hand side of the empty train during my 3-hour commute from Milina to Spiritus.

I usually use this time to get ahead on the day’s work, put my thoughts in a journal or catch up on the news. But, even though I have my laptop, black cloth-covered notebook and daily newspapers sprawled across the table in front of me, my focus is on the outside.

I make out the shape of a waterfall in the distance, and the booming sound of cascading water comes to mind. I trace the jagged peaks of the valley and imagine myself hiking up there. And, just outside my constituency, at the foot of a particularly prominent hill, I see a quaint bungalow (which you wouldn’t spot unless you knew it was there) in which a certain Mr and Mrs Nolokari live.

My gaze lingers on my parents’ house, long after the train curves round a bend, slows down and the lights of the next station flood the car—

“Is anyone sitting here?” I turn to see a lady standing in the aisle, a warm smile on her face. Embarrassed, I down the last of my already cold tea, gather my things to one side of the table, and gesture for Councillor Sama Hauveza to take a seat.

“You’re making good use of the journal, Ros,” she ribs as she glances at my bookmark, placed about halfway through the black notebook she gifted me after I left her office to become a Representative.

“It’s the one thing that keeps me sane,” I smile. The train starts moving again and my eyes drift outside once more.

“Looking forward to the caucus meeting?” Sama asks drily. I roll my eyes.

“Just want to get it over with.” Any time a Kjofàfellskam caucus meeting is called, it quickly spirals into a shouting match between factions: insults are hurled, egos are bruised and the Chair decides, well into the night, that the meeting needs to be postponed (though many members of the party, myself included, take their leave before then).

The Councillor sighs and crosses her arms, probably mulling over the weight of the Chair’s promise that today’s meeting would be the last one, and the two of us remain silent until the train grinds to a halt in Spiritus.

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6 February 2023
Downtown Spiritus, Spiritus

Kai and I are laughing, though I can’t remember what about. We talk about everything from politics to Actoran slang as we enter the elevator that will take us to the caucus hall. The elevator’s walls are glass, so Spiritus starts revealing itself below: skyscrapers, steel and concrete are waging war against the parks, gardens and greenery bathed in summer sunlight, while the wide waters of Alterno snake between them, mediating and instigating their conflict.

The doors open and we step into a large, carpeted room with rows upon rows of chairs set up and filled by Kjofàfellskam members, sporting pressed suits like a uniform. As we take our seats towards the back of the hall, the Chair steps behind a lectern on a raised stage in the distance, a large television screen behind her. When 8 pm rolls around, she tests her microphone before explaining the voting procedure.

We won’t be using instant runoff voting (since arguing over how preferences are counted is what usually keeps us here for hours). We can vote for any two people in the room to form a presidential ticket, and any ticket with at least one vote will be displayed on the screen until the winning ticket is announced.

After Kai and I cast our votes, he asks about my tailoring, which I see as a hobby I just happen to get paid for, but he believes I should take it more seriously.

“Your work should be walking down runways in Vudesque!” he says a little bit too loudly, but no one notices thanks to the homogeneous hum of everyone’s conversation, the quietest a caucus meeting has ever been.

The idea appeals to me but I don’t think my heart’s in it. Switching gears, I ask, “How’s the Empire?”

“Becoming more like one every day,” Kai shrugs. The ‘Empire’ is the fast-growing, far-expanding Leandro family company. I once asked Kai if he liked his work there, but he brushed it off, saying his enjoyment wasn’t the biggest factor when his father, spending most of his energy in the Actoran Government, recruited him. Kai’s sisters are pursuing their own careers, so running the business keeps Kai busy when the House isn’t in session.

Before I ask Kai to elaborate, he looks up at the screen and says, “That’s many tickets.” He’s right. There are so many names that only a microscopic font can fit them all on the screen. I can’t make anything out.

Soon, however, the Chair is back on the microphone, adjusting her reading glasses. “This was a particularly tight race,” she begins, “but a ticket has received more support than the others. Kjofàfellskam, I present to you our 2023 presidential candidates: Ros Bjòrandi and Kaivar Leandro!”

I stare blankly at Kai and he looks back at me. What. Just. Happened?

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18 February 2023
Natans, District 4

We’re officially launching our campaign next week. Currently, our platform is centred on social welfare, following through on the 2021 environmental reforms and 2022 neutrality referendums, and giving Phanama’s nuclear industry a future outside nuclear weaponry. Nonetheless, I don’t see what contribution I’m authentically making to our platform — something I passionately want to bring to the table — so I came to the place where I decided that I’d even have a political career, with the gentle waves of Lake Natans providing the soundtrack to my thoughts.

Ever since the night of the caucus meeting, everything has been a blur. Kai’s friends at the caucus came over to cheer us on while Sama, who was already on her way home, called to congratulate us when she heard the news. The Chair displayed the detailed voting results, showing that our ticket had the most votes, though neither Kai nor I found out how our names ended up on the screen in the first place.

Sometime later that week, I came home to a surprise party thrown by Lara Takode, Kjofàfellskam’s new Representative candidate for Milina, with nearly the whole town in attendance. Lara has helped run my office in the constituency and, if she wins, I’m certain the people of Milina will be in good hands.

Last night, I received a call from my parents. “We heard on the news. You’re on your party’s ticket,” said my father.

“Yes, that’s true,” I replied.

“Are you going to run?”

“Right now, that’s the plan.” A brief silence followed before we exchanged goodbyes. It was a cold conversation, but far more than I could ask for since I entered politics.

My parents, like most refugees of the Second Declevern Civil War*, believe politicians were behind the fall of Declever, which forced people to trade their futures full of possibility for lives riddled with fear and uncertainty. This had to find its way into every dinner conversation in our studio apartment in Natans, perhaps to make me harbour the same hatred towards people in power. But, instead of hatred, I found hope.

Hope that I can right the wrongs. Hope that I can help us move forward, so people can look into the future with ambition rather than into the past with longing. Hope that we can come together, not just as Declever and Vesper but as the whole of Phanama. Hope that—

I should write this down. I think I’ve found what I was looking for.

* The Second Declevern Civil War took place in the 1940s between communities in the nation of Declever south of the Declever River (which would become Declevis) and communities north of the river (which would become Vesper). Tensions had already been rising for some time and had previously erupted in the 19th century during the First Declevern Civil War. The Second Civil War began on the night of a particularly controversial general election and saw atrocities committed by both sides, resulting in many refugees, most of whom were from the less populous Declevis, migrating to neighbouring Phan-Omna.

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Part 1:
Indauve | River

23 October 2023
Raamistau Office Building, Skierova, Vesper

Chancellor Ananeli Fujarvi watches the Raamistau handover live from the television in the Deputy Raamistau’s office. This office is bound to be Ana’s. Of course, Volta is not obliged to appoint a deputy for the remainder of the term, and she hasn’t announced anything about a search for a deputy, but surely that’s because the pair have been as thick as thieves since day 1, so the post is guaranteed to be Ana’s.

She watches the sun set behind the former Raamistau, Ian Aarijuka, as he steps into his car with his family and drives out of the compound. Volta is standing on the veranda, smiling and waving goodbye, without a single strand of hair falling from her sleek, grey bun onto her dark olive pantsuit. Ana takes that as her cue to join Volta. She grabs her notebook, keen to make a good impression, and rushes out of the office.

By the time Ana is on the veranda, most of the cameras are gone and Volta is making her way into the building.

“Is there anything I can do to help you settle into your new office, Volta?” Ana asks eagerly.

Without missing a beat, Volta snaps, “It’s Raamistau Kìruna, Ana. Replace the map of Phanama with my wall map of Vesper. In fact, get rid of all the Phanaman maps in this building by the end of the week.” She pauses so Ana can write everything down before adding, “I’d also like my bookshelves moved to my new office tomorrow morning, and then we’ll worry about the rest of the furniture later.”

The Raamistau walks past Ana into the building, leaving the Chancellor hoping that there are still staff that haven’t gone home for the night yet.

27 October 2023
Toiinala Square, Spiritus

Ros clears his throat before he nears the end of his inauguration speech. The audience has been very quiet since he began speaking and, despite looking up from his notes every so often, Ros hasn’t been able to gauge the the response since he starts shaking once he locks eyes with anyone. But the speech has been going as Ros rehearsed so far, so why should anything go wrong now?

“We have been described as a body, or a quilt made up of several fabrics” Ros declares, “But that body has wounds that are still raw, our quilt has seams that are fraying. Only when we consciously try to heal those wounds, can we go out there and stand our ground. Only when the seams are re-done, can we show our quilt off to the world. And I will make that my priority, not just for the next four years, but for as long as we need to strengthen the bonds that unite us as a country.”

Silence rings out across the open square. And then applause follows. Ros doesn’t take it as a sign that his speech was anything special, but he still beams. Ros steps down from the podium and President Bowleaf approaches him. When he gets close, the two hold each other’s forearms and use their free arms for a brief embrace, going for a formal but friendly greeting. As they pull away, Ros hears a distinct whisper: “You have as much power as you give yourself.”

He thinks he’s imagining things until he realises that President Bowleaf is maintaining eye contact for a bit too long and a slight shiver runs down Ros’ spine. Then they begin posing for the cameras. But even as he smiles, greets and shares short exchanges with Kai, Vice President Lancaster, her family and Bowleaf’s family, Ros makes a mental note of the former President’s words and starts mulling over their meaning.

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30 September 2024
Raamistau Office Building, Skierova, Vesper

Ana is not yet Deputy Raamistau. She keeps telling herself that Volta—no, Raamistau Kìruna—wants to spend her first year in office alone before appointing an official deputy. The Chancellor has been fulfilling all the duties of a Deputy in the meantime: she writes press releases, takes minutes at meetings and gets the Raamistau’s black coffee without sugar. Yes, these aren’t the executive responsibilities traditionally associated with the role, but when has Raamistau Kìruna followed the traditional route?

Ana knocks and opens the Raamistau’s door. Once she is called in, she marvels at the bookshelves that line three walls of the office while a floor-to-ceiling window makes up the fourth. Opulent rugs, sofas and trinkets from the Raamistau’s time abroad instantly grab her attention, making good use of the largest room in the building. However, these pale in comparison to the grand, detailed Map of Vesper that stretches across the entire ceiling. Ana always shudders at the memory of nearly falling off a ladder while trying to install that map.

Kìruna’s gaze darts between her three computer monitors and a pad of scratch paper on her desk. This is the usual routine: Ana asks what the Raamistau is up to, Kìruna says that Ana will find out in good time, and then Ana takes the Raamistau through her schedule for the day. But today, before Ana gets a chance to speak, the Raamistau asks, “How is the corruption report going, Ana?”

Not long after the Raamistau handover, Ana had been assigned the task of covertly investigating each Vespern official’s graft history. She had been dragging her feet with it and even thought—hoped—that the Raamistau had forgotten about it.

“I need that report before Friday’s Government Briefing. You are excused from your other duties until then,” the Raamistau adds. Ana nods and excuses herself from the room.

1 October 2024
Underground Spiritus, Spiritus

There are few meetings Ros dreads as much as National Security Council Conclaves. He has, however, come to love the early morning trek through the network of tunnels underneath Spiritus to get to the underground elevator that takes him to the meeting location. It gives him a chance to collect his thoughts.

Ros pushes a sequence of elevator buttons to begin his downward journey like he has every Tuesday morning for the past 11 months. Has it really been that long? Ros has started seeing through Phanama’s green transition, discussed nuclear power plant plans, strengthened social safety nets, followed the debate on reform of the education system, etc. Kai has been just as busy dealing with mostly foreign policy, breaking Phanama out of its neutral shell.

Despite their busy schedules, Ros steals away to Milina every week, Kai spends quite a bit of time in Actora, and the pair always find time to call each other and catch up. Usually, Kai and Ros take the trip to the Conclave together, but Kai is away on a foreign trip, leaving Ros to face the Conclave alone.

Ros actually gets along with most of the National Security Council. Prime Minister Elna Sotahuri is a different story. She takes Kai’s and (especially) Ros’ presence in that room personally, determined to be on the opposite side of the argument, belittling whatever words they say and hurling passive-aggressive statements at them. Kai and Ros are always outspoken and unfazed regardless, though Ros does need to psych himself up each Tuesday morning in advance.

Fortunately, today’s Conclave is just a simple election of who will chair the Council for the next quarter of the year. That shouldn’t be too difficult.

OOC Note

Thanks for reading! Sorry it’s been so long :sweat_smile: I’ve been focused on school, but I’m on a short break so I thought I’d continue the story a bit.

Best,
Phanama

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4 October 2024
Raamistau Office Building, Skierova, Vesper

“Where is it?” Ana mutters as she frantically searches her office for the corruption report. The Raamistau wanted a paper copy, and Ana knew she had put it in her bag before she left home. It has the fairly inconspicuous red seal of Vesper, so she wonders how she could have missed it. The Briefing starts in five minutes, and the Conference Hall is a long walk from the Chancellor’s office. Ana might as well arrive on time but empty-handed instead of being late with nothing to show for it, so she rushes out of her office.

With one minute to spare, Ana is the last person in the Conference Hall. All twenty heads in the room turn to her as she enters, indifferent. The Raamistau, however, is smiling. That’s odd, Ana thinks to herself. She hasn’t seen Kìruna smile since she became the Raamistau, but it puts Ana at ease.

“Don’t bother sitting down,” the Raamistau laughs. “We have just two things on the agenda. First, I would like to introduce you to our new Deputy Raamistau. A round of applause for ex-Chancellor Ananeli Fujarvi.”

This has to be a sick joke. Ana looks from the Raamistau to the cheering room and pinches herself. It hurts. She’s the Deputy Raamistau. Why was there a pit in her stomach just a few moments ago? “Thank you!” is all Ana can manage, visibly struggling to contain her elation.

“A joyous day indeed,” Raamistau Kìruna remarks, now directing her attention to the Ministers in the Conference Hall, “and as this day marks the beginning of the Deputy Raamistau’s time in office, this day also marks the end of yours.”

Now that had to be a joke. The cheering collectively halts as the Ministers glance at each other and mutter a few words. The Raamistau opens a drawer and pulls out a large binder emblazoned with the red seal of Vesper. Ana’s report. “I cannot stand for embezzlement in my Government, so none of your unapologetically flagrant track records have a place here. Use the remainder of the day to vacate your offices and leave room for those fit to hold public offices. Dismissed.”

Volta steps out of the room, and the Ministers move to the front of the room to analyse the binder. It doesn’t take long for them to find Ana’s name. They each shuffle past her, making sure to jostle her.

“Vekjil”, someone spits at her.

8 October 2024
Underground Spiritus, Spiritus

After Prime Minister and National Security Council Chair Elna Sotahuri reads through the Conclave’s agenda for the day, Ros raises his hand. “Madam Chair,” he says, “I suggest we also discuss recent developments in Vesper.”

The Prime Minister seems to mull over the idea before asking, “Why, exactly?” She does not do so in a particularly rude manner, but those two words scratch an itch in Ros’ mind.

Each morning, a stack of newspaper articles selected by the Chief of Staff awaits Ros on his breakfast table. When Kai was around, he and Ros would discuss them together with other events they considered worth thinking about. Nowadays, the Chief of Staff accompanies his selected articles with a brief presentation on each, though various topics receive various amounts of brevity. Today, he spent ten minutes on the supposed sheep uprising in Greenville—not an uprising by the shepherds, but by the sheep themselves—but did not even mention the mass sacking of Ministers in Vesper. Ros thought back and realised a surprising lack of coverage on Declevis and Vesper in his daily newspaper fare.

Conspiracy was the wrong word—too cold and organised—but Ros noticed an insidiously blissful ignorance and disregard for Eastern Phanama in the upper echelons of Spiritus. And he wanted to end it: if he had to listen to a thorough and well-researched argument that sheep had a vendetta against Phanamans, he at least deserved to see some coverage of what was going on where he was from.

“Vesper is the largest province and the third-largest by population,” Ros begins. “A capricious Vespern government would have widespread ramifications on national stability, the economy—”

“Speaking of,” the Prime Minister interjects, “Finance Minister Ramona’s team projects Phanaman GDP growth of 9.03% this year, an increase of only 0.32% from last year’s growth rate, which would be the smallest increase in the past 5 years.” This is not a new tactic, deflecting Ros’ concerns onto his perceived shortcomings and forcing him to choose which one to address: defending his Presidency or defending what is of importance to him. Kai has a way with words that he usually uses to defuse the resulting stalemate, but this time, Ros is on his own.

He opens his mouth to speak, but hears someone else’s voice. “It would also be the first time Phanama’s GDP crossed $1 trillion,” Defence Minister Vaske Brookhelm remarks. “Back to the main issue, I also think it is worth at least acknowledging what is going on in Vesper before it escalates into something else.”

This receives nods of assent across the room, except from the Prime Minister, but that is enough to add Vesper to the agenda. Ros makes a mental note to thank Minister Brookhelm after the Conclave.

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1 May 2025
President’s Residence, Spiritus

Ros has a busy day ahead of him. Though you could say that about almost any day for the past year and a half. Kai is in some distant time zone, and Ros doesn’t want to wake him, Sama is spending some time off the grid, and there isn’t anyone else Ros can just talk to.

He still craves company, however. So he unlocks the drawer of his bedside table, pulls out his black cloth-covered notebook, and decides to spend time accompanied by his written thoughts.

27 October 2023
President’s Residence, Spiritus

After the inauguration, a banquet was held at the President’s Residence. It was a Kjofàfellskam party more than it was mine, so I was met with mostly unfamiliar faces. Kai and I had had a hand in deciding the guest list, so I recognised someone every so often: I caught up with Sama, a few Representatives, and several of our campaign’s sponsors, whom I made sure to thank profusely. I saw Kai’s family and had a chat with each of his sisters; they were all kind and affable, but I couldn’t help but find the whole event…impersonal.

My mind was called back from wandering, however, when I stumbled into the dining room and saw the long table replaced by lavish carpets and large sheets of omnaavikra*. I nearly fell over as I ran to sit cross-legged and wait for people to encircle an omnaavikra, before I realised that neither of my parents was there. They definitely received an invite.

Heaps of effort had been put into the meal, but all the flavours on the bread tasted dull. I don’t know what expression was on my face, but Kai noticed and snuck us off to a nearby Stoinian place. Even though we were back in the mansion soon after, those few hours in the crisp, Spiritan springtime breeze, when we could actually fathom the inauguration, were the best part of the night.

*Imagine Dutch pannenkoeken but served like Ethiopian injera.

4 November 2023
President’s Residence, Spiritus

This morning, I shrunk the workforce managing the President’s Residence. I cook for myself most nights and take care of my living spaces as I always have, and the staff terrifically fill in the gaps I leave. I’m just not used to having so many people do things…for me. I talked it through with the Chief of Staff but decided to deliver the news myself: most of them will be redeployed at food banks, shelters and charities across Spiritus while enjoying their current salary. Some of them looked excited, others more distraught. And even though I kept just a cook—a lovely lady named Hemva—and some grounds staff to tend the compound and its rabbits, I didn’t chase away any of the other people who inconspicuously returned during the day. Nor do I plan on evicting them if I see them tomorrow.

This was my first real action as President, but my second awaited me in the afternoon. Kai and I discussed the meeting with the Provincial Heads of Government over breakfast and lunch—meals we share to keep each other sane—but I still couldn’t keep myself from shaking when we walked into the oldest café in Spiritus.

Governor Matthew Russo of District 4 arrived behind us, before being joined by his Lenian, Spiritan and Actoran counterparts. I was expecting Sama to enter next, despite her unsuccessful election, but Declevis’ Raamisdau is equally friendly. Her equivalent from Greenville sat with us soon after, and all eight of us held a kind conversation. Once it was clear that Vesper’s Raamistau Kìruna would not show up, I began steering the conversation to more official matters, making a mental note to reach out to the Raamistau again later.

We discussed the issues plaguing each province, potential solutions, and how everyone at the table could help. I was happy to speak little, since each Head of Government was eager to every other Head of Government. We agreed to hold this meeting regularly.

28 November 2023
Underground Spiritus, Spiritus

Today was the day of the first National Security Council Conclave. Kai and I had breakfast at the Vice President’s Residence because his entrance to the system of tunnels sneaking their way below Spiritus is more…manageable than mine.

We arrived an hour early but were still the last to take our seats at the round table. Ava Oakwell, now Minister of Home Affairs, welcomed us warmly and was followed by the Defence, Environment, Foreign and Finance Ministers. They’ve all spent more time in the National Security Council than we have, so we accepted their welcome. However, one person was not as cordial. Behind her voluminous clipboard and half-moon spectacles, Prime Minister Elna Sotahuri neatly tucked a strand of hair into her tight bun before silently shaking my outstretched hand.

As we moved through the agenda, I noticed a consistent coldness from her towards my contributions. I don’t expect anyone to agree with me 100%, but I also don’t expect a member of the NSC to disagree in such a petty manner. She had conspicuous coughing fits that were triggered whenever I spoke, to the point where I thought to offer her a lozenge, but cured whenever someone else took the floor. I thought I was imagining things until Kai tossed her a few cough drops across the table.

Yes, she was not part of my original Council of Ministers appointments, but Kai suggested that I shouldn’t take it personally: he, too, was a victim of her coughing fit assaults.

I recalled our meeting with the Presidential Candidates last week to see how I could implement some of their visions. Leon Nallerom, the Social Democrats’ candidate, initially accepted the invitation before cancelling with a strongly-worded email that ultimately boiled down to, “We decided to gate-keep. All the best!” Viiskama Huinademokratiadaàr lost the House of Representatives and a seat in the Council of Ministers to Liiberale and the Presidency to a party born yesterday. Most HD members don’t care, but it keeps the die-hard ones up at night. Our Prime Minister must fall into the latter camp.

7 January 2024
Central Spiritus Train Station, Spiritus

I saw Kai off this morning as he embarked on his first diplomatic trip as Vice President. He’s much better with people than I am, so everyone agreed he would be more suited to this kind of thing. As I hugged him goodbye, he whispered, “Try not to cry in public. You’re in charge of a country now.” I rolled my eyes, shoved him onto the train out of mock-anger at being teased, saluted his guard and waved them off once the train started moving.

We’ve more or less been joined at the hip since we met as Representatives, but now that he’s going to be abroad more often and for longer periods at a time, I need to make new friends.

Or not. I handled the festive season just fine when he was spending time with his family in Actora. We did talk every day, however. But! I have friends outside Kai, like Sama and…um…

6 June 2024
Riine Riine Memorial, Skierova, Vesper

Usually, Riine Riine* is a day of solemn reflection over the horrors of the Second Declevern Civil War and celebration for its end. However, I spent the day frantically seeking an audience with Raamistau Kìruna. I knew she would be there, and she knew I would be there, so there was no way we could miss each other. Or so I thought.

She gave a speech since Vesper had the honour of hosting Riine Riine this year. Afterwards, however, she might as well have disappeared off the face of Pacifica because apparently no one was able to reach her. I searched the whole of Skierova but couldn’t find her.

By the end of the day, my head was in my hands. When I made my inaugural speech about how Phanama needs to come together like parts of a body or a patchwork quilt, I actually had Vesper and Declevis in mind. Growing up in a community of Civil War refugees, there was a rhetoric that Spiritus didn’t care about us. That the Commonwealth didn’t want us after the Civil War. The squalid conditions and racism experienced by Vespern and Declev people in other provinces were a common justification.

Of course, there have been reconciliation efforts between Vesper and Declevis and the rest of the country. But I don’t know why I can’t shake off the feeling that they were too little, too late.

*Riine is the Phanaman word for six. The date on which the Second Declevern Civil War ended was the 6th of June, or 06/06—Riine Riine—in shorthand.

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