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It had been just less than two months since those dramatic events. Even though Lapharcia had been torn apart by conflict, it's government toppled and no one able to form a new government, some tried to hold on to the old ways and re-establish Lapharica. Parts of the country fell into anarchy. Others broke away and formed independent states, not that there was much to break away from.

They carried on in that clearly unsustainable way, and the world watched. To give aid to them would make no sense. Who was there to send it to. Trade would have to be renegotiated and embassies set up. Diplomats who were willing to go who have to be located. While this challenges were insurmountable on their own, the one great obstacle to Larpharcian reunification was the lack of formal divisions.

If the nation had been formally divided into separate states or nations, the world could have had someone to deal with. Instead, different groups vied for territory and constant infighting poisoned the entire country.

At the end of the two months, Sirakles sat in his room. He had spent the time in between, talking to his advisers about how to save the country. There were things that could have been done but without another other international support, Lapharcia was doomed and everybody knew it. In truth, Sirakles knew this as soon as he went to Lapharcia. He was not a fool, but the Mzeusian Telumas, and he could see when a situation had become hopeless.

Now, he stared at the carpet, tears trailing down his face. Small erratic sobs shook his body as he recalled a better time. The man who had not too long ago sent him those letters detailing the state of Lapharcian affairs had been a good friend. They had gone to the same university in Mzeusia and had been happy to debate about the merits of different policies. When he had gotten elected, Sirakles had called to congratulate him. He had done the same when Sirakles had been elected. They had kept in touch, speaking at least once a month and while they could never talk for long, what they did say was enough and they laughed often.

It had been a painful journey to this point ever since the first letter had arrived. The embassy had to be closed and the diplomats recalled. Mzeusian citizens had to get out for their own safety and Sirakles had watched every news report on the situation and read every article. The gradually worsening state of the country his friend had tried so hard to build plagued his mind. He was powerless to stop it, and as each burning building fell, and as each shot was fired during the street-fighting, he could feel the man's legacy slipping away.

They would have talks in university. They would talk about getting into politics and making a change in the lives of the people they would represent. That opportunity came, and despite that man's best efforts, the country had slipped into ruin.

Today, Lapharcia had been formally dissolved. All that work had been washed away.