Changing Times
François Cloutier poured over the economic documents scattered across his office, scowling in frustration.
His was a nation carved from the poorest and least developed regions of an oppressive government, and its maintenance proved to be nearly impossible. Modern infrastructure was non-existent, taxation or any significant degree of central control were nearly impossible. The Métis Republic was vast- a rich land, but unharnessed. It was populous, relatively speaking, but so many lived far beyond the limited reach of the Fleuve Rouge, the three cities of Baie-Tonnerre, Ville-Michif and Winnipeg. Local councils from the far reaches of the republic did have a level of contact with the 'central' government, but they did not follow its lead by any stretch of the imagination.
That was the trouble with the nation- so much remained undeveloped, or even unsettled. Many Métis still subsisted off of nothing but the spoils of the traditional Horseback Buffalo Hunt, as opposed to the far more effective methods of farming used around Lac Winnipeg.
Cloutier began to pace around his desk in frustration. If anything was going to be done here, it would not be done by the useless councils.
A knock came at the door. Cloutier put down his papers.
"Yes?"
"Monsieur Cloutier, l'allemande est ici."
"Doeubler?"
"Je pense que oui."
"Merci Luc. Envoyez-lui dedans."
"Certainment."
François quickly cleared off his desk and moved about several displaced objects, bringing his chaotic office back into order.
*****
Marius Doeubler followed his guide through the, in his opinion, poorly-heated stone structure. Technically, this building was now the administrative capital of the Métis Republic, but the German Envoy was of the opinion that it still more closely resembled the Québecois Gouverneur's Offices that the simple, three storey building had been prior to the war.
His guide knocked quickly on one dark red wooden door, and pushed it open. Within, was the man Doeubler knew could only be François Cloutier, standing behind a tall, engraved desk. The German envoy noted the woode structure of the room, several bookcases along the sides, and a collection of Métis flags hanging behind the desk, in front of a row of windows. Cloutier was not quite as tall as he, but that was not uncommon. The Métis leader's posture indicated some physical strength, and his black-haired, clean-shaven, angular face radiated something of a inexplicable- perhaps it could be described as a tired, patient confidence.
"Good day, Mister Doeubler. I would like to follow up on your nation's economic offers."
"Certainly sir. I have all of the proposals filed already."
"Excellent. Come, let us discuss this outside- we may have much to talk about."
