Florida has virtually no government.
No, it would be more accurate to say that there's hardly any formal governance structure or administrative apparatus at all. The vacuum of power is palpable across the war-torn region. At most, there exists a largely symbolic assembly that calls itself a government—a pale shadow of legitimate authority—alongside the clandestine underground organization carefully cultivated and embedded by the enigmatic Nemo over many years.
If one were compelled to identify a single entity that could legitimately claim to represent the collective interests and will of all Florida's remaining inhabitants, it would undoubtedly be the hastily assembled council. This unlikely coalition brings together the charismatic leaders of the slave uprising, pragmatic Spanish collaborators who had switched allegiances when the tide turned, and the battle-hardened operatives from Nemo's underground network who had emerged from the shadows.
