City of Light

120BF (Before Fall), The King’s Coronation. City of Light. The Northern Stretch.

The coronation of a king is always the source of much happiness and celebration, and it is no different among the people of the Northern Stretch. On this day, Day 1 of His Reign, and Year One of His Majesty, was the coronation of King Jubiliah. Appointed as more a tradition than as a position of real power, this civilization having long ago advanced beyond the “barbarity” of one man rule, the King had no real power. At least, so the Book said. But this King had a very different goal in mind when he accepted the Crown of Light, a very power mongering goal of a scale not seen in centuries. He wanted to become absolute ruler of the Northern Stretch, to become supreme dictator of the City of Light, to become the ultimate power in this world. But the people did not know this at the time, and so they cheered, cheered just as much as they would weep in the years to come.

“Five years! Five years we’ve been forced to live under the heel of this Oppressor!” The Protestor’s voice carried surprisingly far in the small city alleyway. The man spoke to a small crowd of like-minded individuals, his message carried across them upon the waves of righteous anger. Lucius had seen many crowds of its ilk in the past, but the protests seemed to be evolving, carrying more anger, more weight, and most troubling of all, more violence.

“His Majesty thinks he can just take the crown and take power for himself, thinks he can twist the Book to fit his own needs! He thinks he can walk all over the common people, take our lands, take our freedoms, and still get away with it! He is wrong! If our new “King” wishes to fight, we will fight back! Kingdoms men hold the power of voice, Kingdoms King has power of choice, if battle fought and voices win, woe to evil King and Kin!”

“Woe to evil King and Kin! Woe to evil King and Kin!” The crowds’ voices resounded in the small space, and bounced wall to wall. Lucius decided that the “peaceful protest” was swinging a bit too far south for his liking. He scanned the crowd, searching for his second, Garmand. He saw Garmand near the front of the crowd and sent him a signal through his Point Interface. Mission is a go. Garmand pinged back his affirmation, and in turned signaled the disguised Guards hiding among the crowd. They pulled out their Neuron Pacifiers, then pointed them in the air and fired a few crackling shots. That got the crowds’ attention. Most fell to the ground and covered their heads, most likely veterans of the protesting field. A few amateurs attempted to flee the scene; they were shot down, the Pacifiers disrupting the motion signals from brain to muscle, essentially paralyzing them. The head honcho, whom Lucius had begun to think of as Mr. Black due to his extraordinarily dark hair, remained standing, wearing a defiant look that looked permanently affixed to his ugly visage, and began to speak.

“Ah, the Oppressor’s Dogs come to do His dirty work among my flock.” Mr. Black looked right at Lucius while he spoke. It seemed his reputation preceded him.

“I am here on behalf of the King Jubiliah, His Majesty, Lord of the Northern Stretch, Ruler of the City of Light. I, Lucius, First of the Guard, would advise that you end this treasonous talk and return to your homes. I may otherwise be forced to take aggressive action and imprison you.” Lucius kept his weapon holstered as he spoke, trying to convey his hope for peaceful resolution. His cocky second kept his weapon trained on Mr. Black.

“You pretend to give us choice in the matter, but you do not. Be hauled off to jail, or return to our homes, but are our homes any different from Stasis? The Oppressor keeps us in our homes with his curfews, and should we dare step outside to obtain basic sustenance, we find ourselves beset upon by you ‘Guards.’” Mr. Black said the last with an unconcealed sneer on his face, and allowed his contempt to shower Lucius and his men.

“Go on Dogs, do what you will! We are not afraid of the Oppressors’ pets, hanging from his leash and begging for scraps from his table. Be careful you do not hang yourself with its extra length.” Lucius shifted his stance only slightly, and allowed no emotion to touch his face. Inside however, he was becoming a bit irritated with this man; his unwillingness to cooperate was a pain Lucius did not feel like dealing with today.

“Sir please, remove yourself and your, ‘flock’, from the premises. The King has placed no restrictions upon my dealings with you, and I do not wish to resort to violence.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw his second shifting, looking as though he were searching for something. Unwilling to take his eyes off Mr. Black, Lucius was unable to fully see what Garmand was doing, but he had a bad feeling in his gut, a “soldier sense” that was beginning to whisper. Mr. Black had begun to speak again, snapping Lucius from his internal turmoil.

“You do not wish violence? Ha! I have seen the news feeds, protestors marching peacefully cut down and arrested by the Dogs. I am not ignorant of your methods, nor will I…” Mr. Black’s speech was suddenly silenced, and his defiant face fell into a look of utter surprise. Then his face began to turn red, redder and redder, more red than naturally possible. His eyes rolled back, showing only the whites. It was then the blood began to flow. Starting from the eyes, streams of blood began to pour from his face out of every hole, from his mouth, his nose, even his ears. Coughing and choking, he thrashed around violently, then fell from the stage and landed on his face, having a small seizure in his own blood pool. Lucius gaped in the same surprise everyone in the crowd did, watching the man die so horrifically. The source of his death didn’t remain a mystery long. Lucius' second walked through the crowd holding a strange device in his hand. It appeared to be a heavily modified Neural Pacifier, still holding the hand held, slightly bulky shape but adding a strange disc shaped head instead of the spiraling spike the First was accustomed to.

“People of the Light, heed me! His Majesties' will shall not be questioned, His rule is absolute! This man spoke of treason, and thus is his reward. Lest you wish to share his fate it would be wise if you returned to your homes, and followed our King’s command! He gives you only kindness and protection, and asks in return only obedience. Instead you spit in His face, and spurn all his gifts! You have no right to be angry with His benevolence, but He has every right to be angered at you, His rebellious people, whom He loves as dearly as family! Go home, and think upon how good your life is compared to the Marches, and be grateful for His mercy!” His eyes were filled with a strange feverish light as he spoke, as though everything he said gave him joy. Lucius was stunned. The protestors took one last look at Mr. Black’s now motionless corpse, then filed away, some slowly and tearfully, others more quickly.

“What in Jubiliah’s name was that Garmand?” Lucius walked towards his the man as he spoke, closing the gap between he and this murderer.

“I did this in Jubiliah’s name Lucius, and under His orders as well.” Garmand held up his weapon, looking it over slowly. “This is a new Neurological weapon that has been in production for quite a while. I was asked to test it out, and I live only to serve the King. It doesn’t merely disrupt neurological function, you see, it stops it altogether. Not a very practical weapon, but it serves a useful dramatic purpose. I am honored to be the first to use this prototype.”

“The King condones such an action? The use of this barbaric club against unarmed civilians? This was a rash and utterly unnecessary action, and with all my power as First I...” The statement halted mid completion. A sheaf of papers rested in Garmand's outstretched hands.

“Yes Lucius, about that. You'll see that all is in order I'm sure.” They would have to be in order. Documents of Removal were signed and observed by the King himself. Lucius took the papers, then felt a sudden urge to beat the smirk off his traitorous “friend's” face.

“How the hell did you..”

“The King has been very disappointed with your methods lately Lucius. He feels you are too kind to the rebellious rabble.”

“So now being nice is a reason for Removal? How far our government has come.” Lucius kept his voice at a deadpan, hoping to control the violent rage battling inside him.

“There is no government. There is only the King.”

“How blind I've been.”

“How blind you are, Lucius. The civilian curfew is in a few hours, I'd, advise, that you return home.” The biting sarcasm isn't lost on Lucius, nor the irony that Jubiliah's most loyal subject was becoming filled with hatred for his King.