Blood, Fire and Steel

Chapter 2

A blast of natural sweetness burst in my mouth as I bit down on a mouthful of fruit salad. When you have been living for three hundred years and tried out everything life had to offer, you tend to appreciate the smaller things. I once despised most fruits, as they tasted quite plain and boring, but around a century ago, I started liking them more. Now they're my favourite food.

"Are you ready for the briefing, Your Royal Highness," asked my advisor Megan.

"Yes. Go ahead," I answered.

"Here is a bird's-eye view of the city of Nauwick," an image of a blocky, repetitive and just downright boring city flashed on the screen, "as is the case with most of the cities in the Empire, there is nothing we have to be wary of. No strange traditions, special manners or dangerous local species. Except for the criminals, of course."

My father erased all the culture and language of every place when he conquered the planet 313 years ago. He made it compulsory for everyone to speak Universal, which used to be called English. He mandated that everyone adopt a Universal name and he made sure that people from each of the old countries were mixed well together in his new countries. He made it hard to practise their old culture in their new environments. A century or so later, most of the diverse cultures on the planet had pretty much died out.

In the past, I felt that was a pity. I loved learning about history when I was younger, and seeing all those rich and varying cultures completely erased just seemed sad to me. However, now I understand why he did what he did. It made the countries so much easier to rule.

"Well, this little trip of ours should be quite easy. Get in, promise to send them a few thousand soldiers, get in front of the cameras and make it seem like we're doing as much as we can about this, and then get out quick. Is that understood?" I asked the table of advisors around me.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," they answered in unison.

"This had better be quick. I need to be back by lunchtime."

"We aren't going to Veria?" my advisor-in-training, Oliver Cole, said disappointedly.

A ripple of laughter echoed around the table. I joined in, finding it funny that the young man thought that a 300-year-old person like me would be interested in any mundane recreational activity, such as shopping.

"I'm not paying my advisors to do shopping, Mr Cole," I replied.

Another bout of laughter vibrated through the table again.

"If there's nothing else, then let's get going."

I mindlessly gazed out the window of the plane and at the ruins of Nauwick below. The distance between the palace and Nauwick was too big to jump between, so we decided to fly there instead. Even from up here, I could see that many of the buildings were reduced to nothing but charred black stumps, and the roads were so crumbled, burnt and filled with ash that they were unrecognisable. Small orange flares dotted the city, places that were still burning with angry flames. I sighed with annoyance, but I felt no pity for the people of Nauwick. They were the ones who raised the criminals. They brought this on themselves.

The captain landed the plane right next to one of the only undestroyed buildings in the area, the mayor's home. It was ringed by ten layers of fences, most of them makeshift. Protestors gathered at the outermost ring, aggressively banging on the fence. Policemen tried to drive them back, but they were vastly outnumbered. Lord Byrne was right. His city was on the verge of collapse. More the reason to keep the situation contained so it wouldn't affect other cities, especially the country's economic hub.

The doors of the plane slid open, and a flight of stairs quickly unravelled before me. Lord Byrne was standing at the bottom, his hands clasped in front of him. He was a lanky man of average height, with sparse light blond hair and a thick moustache above his lips. He glanced at me as I slowly descended the stairs, relief in his deep blue eyes. He thinks that I will save him. How laughable.

"Lord Byrne," I greeted the mayor in a cool, crisp voice.

"Princess Minerva," he replied, bowing deep.

The protestors redoubled their efforts as soon as they saw me, their angry yelling clearly audible in the background even though they were more than 200 metres away. I resisted the urge to smirk. Did they seriously think that their anger would affect someone who has seen more of the world than all of them combined?

"Let's go inside, shall we?" I asked, not wanting to hear another one of their foolish insults.

"Yes, of course, Your Royal Highness."

The double frosted glass doors swept open upon detecting our presence, revealing a small lobby beyond. The mayor's mansion had light yellow marble walls and a white marble floor swirling with grey. A dusty unused chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. As the mayor led me further into his mansion, I could see that most of the furniture was made out of wood, wood that looked fine but old. I could see that Lord Byrne's servants had made efforts to clean the place up, but I could spot imperfections everywhere. The faded maroon carpet placed under the coffee table had lumps of lint and bits of wood were chipped off the furniture. There was the occasional crack in the wall, and many books on the shelf had broken spines and looked fit to fall apart at any second. Nearly everything here was probably older than Byrne himself. You could tell a lot about a city by the mayor's mansion. It looked like Nauwick had begun falling apart ages ago.

The mayor invited me to his office and beckoned for me to sit down.

"Would you like anything?" he asked, "tea, coffee, wine?"

There was a slight nervous and fearful tone to his voice, making him look even twitchier than he already was, if possible. He knows he pissed me off when he threatened to lift the state of emergency. I nodded with satisfaction. Fear was a good place to start.

"Just water, thanks," I replied.

He ordered his servants to get two glasses of water, then went to take his seat.

"First of all, I would like to thank-" he said.

"Cut the crap, Byrne. We both know why I had to come. I'm a busy woman, and I'm sure that you're a busy man. Let's get down to business, shall we?" I interrupted, cutting him off before he could waste any more time.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness."

"As soon as I leave, I will send 500 soldiers here to help local law enforcement contain the criminals. Anyone they detain will be sent to prisons in other places. We will give you one million to rebuild your city. In return, you'll keep the borders shut so that the criminals don't get out and ransack other cities."

His eyes widened, and I could see that he was struggling to keep his composure. What I had offered was clearly not nearly enough for Nauwick. He had no choice but to protest, as scared as he was.

"Your Royal Highness," he began hesitantly, "you may not have noticed this on the way here, but right now Nauwick is in tatters. Our buildings have been destroyed, our roads are unusable, and there's a shortage of almost everything. I'm afraid we would need some more help, at least financially, to fix this damage."

I had predicted this request, and I had already made up my mind.

I leaned back in my chair, forming a regretful expression on my face.

"I don't know if you have noticed, but right now I'm fighting rebels who want to start a civil war. I need the money to pay my soldiers, fuel my ships and obtain weapons and spyware. I'm running very low on money. I'm fighting criminals too, mayor, on an even bigger scale. I don't have a few billion to help you fix your own city."

His expression grew desperate, and his face scrunched together as he pleaded.

"You are wise, Your Royal Highness, but I'm afraid you don't understand how dire our situation is. Even if your soldiers do manage to contain the crime, my city will still be in utter ruin. Hundreds of thousands of people are homeless, and even people who have homes have little water or electricity. The aid and supplies that we are getting are finding it hard to reach the people because the roads are broken. The economy's at a complete standstill because no one can, no, there is no more work, and no one's spending any money. If you don't save us-" his voice caught in his throat, and he fought to hold back tears, "there will be total anarchy."