In Huck's Hands

Chapter 5: No More Hangover

My exhibition of control went off with mild success in my eyes. Though Aygu like a whipped mut was calm for the moment...Each time he thought I wasn't looking he stole glances at me. He didn't even wince as they stitched his hand into a Stalky Stump. His Scarred skin was like a tapestry of tattoos and combat.

Aygu knew I had played him and appeared to be reveling in masochistic glory, he now held the highest militant rank beside my own...though I used the simple customary Buriti blood pact to seal his direct support. I knew he was either waiting for me to slip--or happy at the idea of another maniac in charge, while he held the reigns.

I, as a noble, had been granted no mandated military service but had always reveled in the concept of warfare...Yet I refuse to participate in the deliberate slaying of my fellow countrymen outright. The factory behind him reverberated as the M-10 tank made its way away from our mock battlefield, small vortexes of sand mixed with the silver ashes. The tide of victory swept in this time, even if rapidly receding every moment.

I stamp my foot on a wriggling sand skimmer amongst the soot, taking in its finality with a simple burning breath. I felt Aiko's lingering noiseless critiques of my actions as I wiped caked blood off my fingers. I nodded to her, my dreads plunging into my face for a moment as the calm Buriti breeze centered my mind in the hot sun. My face instinctually began to scowl, small beads of sweat began to form on my brow.

How would I comingle the two central forces without causing more casualties...Before it would be seen as the pangs of civil war--I must push our northern boundary with Svetlan. A shakey united facade can be managed considerably more uncomplicated than fatal coups. I must take my time urging the less spirited parties in my command...

"Do you intend on standing out here all day?" Aygu had encroached his way into my small posse of crimson-garbed soldiers. He stuck out like a love abscess wearing that god-awful tribal headdress. If my mouth wasn't so parched I'd spit on him. I turned with no response before Aiko motioned for my presence.

I commenced my tour through the still-smoking rubble with Aiko, Aygu, and my small legion of royal sentries. Our footsteps resonated hollowly off the remains of decimated structures. The only other sound was the desolate breeze whistling through shattered windows. Survivors materialized gradually to gaze at us with starving, haunted eyes or rummaged desperately through the devastation for any slivers of their old lives.

A small boy attempted to scurry away only after nearly being kicked by a rebel soldier, his small ears must still be ringing from the bombs...I turned away for a moment. I knew I would fix this but not now, our people's culture would not allow any weakness--even from their new king on a half-mangled child.

My heart wrenched at the sight. Rebuilding this inoperable capital - my ancestral metropolis - now fell to me if Buriti was to ascend for the first time in history. But first, ensuring leadership and resources took precedence. The boy finally made his way into a small alley then curled into a fetal position, I wished to stay and provide anything for him but my rule is one of swift sweeping change not one step at a time. My chest tightened but I made my heart titanium as our march continued.

After a mile of walking to the main center of Buritis capital, I heard Aiko's voice ring out like a siren."Set up headquarters in the West Command Bunker, Aygus forces will no longer be occupying it so that will be where we house the new throne...." Her eyes flashed to him and then to me, her regard unchanged between us. "Send scouts to search for any high-ranking Buriti officials who may yet live. We'll need to form an emergency council."

As she finished, the two Svetlan soldiers Aygu observed earlier pushed their way down the fractured road hastily. The others seem to be more focused on deliberately driving their way through the considerably more diminutive rebel childtroopers. Though these asshats treated them like canines we all were much more weary of the Svetlan immigrants. I could see scorn wash over each Buritian eye mine passed through the sea of native warriors.