Illegal King

by Mason Dakota

  “I…I’m not sure. I’m a bit lost right now. So many challenges are spinning around me and calling for my attention, and if I don’t meet those challenges carefully and correctly, lives could be forever ruined.”

  Sig nodded as I spoke, appearing to understand my frustration—though we both knew he really didn’t. He chewed the corner of his bottom lip and said, “That is an uncomfortable place to be.”

  I sighed and chuckled under my breath. “The chaos is beginning to feel rather comfortable actually. I just feel…” I stopped, at a loss for words.

  “Torn between what you know you must do and what you really want to do,” finished Sig. He glanced at his feet and rubbed his palms down his pants legs. “Well…it goes without saying, Griffon, you’ve got to choose between the two paths.”

  “But what if I can’t choose?” I asked.

  “Then the choice will eventually be made for you. You don’t strike me as the indecisive and passive sort. I’m guessing you’ve already made a decision on what choice to make.”

  I duck my head and whisper, “I’m not sure I can bear the consequences of my decision. What if I’m wrong and what I think is right is actually wrong? What if I don’t get the outcome I’m hoping for?”

  “Do you really know for sure? Are you capable of predicting the future? And here I thought that power rested only with God.”

  “No, but I can speculate,” I responded, more frustrated. “And what I can predict…terrifies me. What would you choose? The right thing that will be hard or the thing that will make you safe and happy?” I looked him in the eyes, daring him to answer my next question, “Is it wrong to turn a blind eye to evil if it means it keeps me and those I care about safe and happy?”

  Sig nodded several times and said, “I would be tempted to choose happiness over holiness, because I’m human. But I wonder if the world is the way it is because too many people make that same decision. I see tragedies on a daily basis that would have been avoided if people had chosen right over easy, if people had accepted the risks and responsibilities and sacrifices of doing what is right in God’s eyes instead of seeking the simple road they think will lead to happy, comfortable outcomes.”

  “You make it sound easy,” I said.

  “It isn’t easy…because it means I cannot afford to be selfish in a world that wants me to be. It means I set myself aside for the sake of others and for what is right, to love the unlovable, not because I want to be loved in return, but because it’s what is right. It is denial of the self-rule for the greater rule.”

  “And if this greater rule or higher path leads to suffering?” I asked.

  “Well…I think we shy away from suffering—which is natural—far too easily. Sometimes…sometimes a lot of good comes out of suffering. Sometimes it’s the only way to know what’s right. Now that certainly doesn’t carry over to every situation. If someone is intentionally causing the suffering of others for their own gain, it is right to stop that person, but suffering for the sake of doing something good is inevitable when we live in a broken world. Evil tries to extinguish the light. If doing good means you must suffer, still do it. Otherwise, good will never get done and life will get worse.”

  Sig stood up, patted me on the shoulder, and finished, “I think that’s enough for tonight. You’ve got a busy day with the wedding. Why don’t you head home and get some rest? You look like you need it. The world’s problems will wait for you. Who knows, maybe a few of them will have fixed themselves by then.” He left me there, whistling away as he disappeared through a back door, as mysterious in his leaving as he was in his arrival.

  Thirty-Three

  “Um…Mr. Yiros, can we head inside?” Angelia Foss asked.

  The rain beat on their backs. Ziavir and Angelia stood in that cold alley long enough for their coats to soak. Angelia was patient with Ziavir. After all, he risked everything to sneak her out of the Palace during the battle. He abandoned men he served with, many of them his trainees for a mysterious mission commanded by his emperor.

  Angelia had been kind and considerate through everything, understanding all of what Ziavir risked to help her. Even if it meant quietly waiting outside in the rain as Ziavir stood frozen by a window staring inside at a beautiful young lady sitting alone at a booth.

  Alexandra Carline.

  Ziavir told himself he should be pleased to see Alexandra. After all he loved her dearly. Somehow that made what he knew he had to do all the more difficult. He kept fiddling with the ring in his pocket. He carried it around with him for months. Despite the reassurance of her eagerness on the phone to meet him here, a lump in his stomach prevented him from going inside.

  “Just a second,” he whispered in answer to Angelia’s question. He didn’t look at her when he spoke.

  It had been a while since Ziavir had been in Chicago and not much had changed. One of the few cities unaffected by the Abandoned War, and so close to the border, Chicago prided itself for never changing. It was a prideful way of admitting that innovation came slowly to Chicago. The city government lived in fear of incursion from the Northern Territories’ Giants, who would steal precious technology and put dangerous equipment in their hands. Despite the effect that Chicago and its docks had on Imperial economy and trade, the city was treated like an unwanted step-child compared to the more modern cities.

  Does this proud city even know it is a mockery to the vastly advanced cities across the empire, Ziavir thought to himself every time he came into this archaic and fooled city.

  It was cities like this, Ziavir knew, that would suffer the most if Adam Rythe succeeded in his coup. The old world would finally begin to die under Adam’s rule…if he weren’t already on the throne. Ziavir hadn’t heard anything from the Palace in hours and it terrified him. He shivered and forced the dark thoughts out of his head.

  Emperor Bretton will push back Adam. We’ll survive this war, and one day he will tell me why I had to leave it.

  Angelia reached out and laid her hand on Ziavir’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything you’ve done to protect me.”

  Ziavir squeezed the ring in his pocket, praying for hope. His Emperor counted on him to complete his mission. When this was over, he would then marry Alexandra—he would make right the wrong he was about to do—he vowed it so. Until then, his Empire and his mission came first.

  He looked back to Angelia and smiled. “Come on. The Emperor will kill me if you die of a cold under my watch.” Her smile lifted Ziavir’s spirits. Angelia was a plain woman, nothing really to look at—typical of Outcasts and certainly far from ever matching his Alexandra’s beauty—but she had a heart Ziavir had grown to appreciate on their travels out of the Palace and to Chicago. She never lost faith in Ziavir or Emperor Bretton.

  Ziavir hesitated before entering the restaurant. As he approached, he noted the restaurant was washed in darkness, lit only by low lights interrupted by dark pillars and booths which maximized candle-light atmosphere. Many of the surfaces were soft and jewel-toned with seating that allowed guests to dine privately. Ambient music played across the room and whenever someone entered or exited the restaurant the smell of delightful roses and fresh cut strawberries wafted through the air.

  Ziavir hated the romantic atmosphere of the location. It made his course of action more difficult. This was the place he had originally planned to propose. It pained him to think about that. But he chose this location for its seclusion of guests and hope that it wouldn’t be an obvious choice for any pursuers to think to look for them.

  From the window he saw that most of the clientele sat and stood around the bar with their eyes glued to television monitors. A news broadcast reported the progress of the coup. Every face looked terrified. Only Alexandra sat away from the bar and sipped her drink with disinterest. The world might as well be burning around her.

  Ziavir’s eyes immediately found Alexandra’s loveliness in the candle-light. Her perfect Noble genes blessed her with a remarkable beauty that Ziavir knew would keep
her looking young and attractive into her elderly years. She was about a month shy of her eighteenth birthday, and yet Ziavir had never met anyone more confident and mature. At such a young age, she was already a successful business woman. Her self-assuredness, more than her beauty, drew Ziavir’s attention to her years before.

  She wore a knee-length, dark red dress with a wave of embedded crystals climbing up the side. Matching crystals streamed through her black shoulder-length hair, which she had straightened, done only for special occasions. Lights from candles reflected off her pale skin giving it a luxurious glow that beckoned Ziavir to draw nearer. She wore the diamond earrings Ziavir had given her and a necklace that drew his eyes south of her neck.

  She sat staring into her glass while tapping her fingers to some tune in her head. She bobbed her head to her internal tune, and Ziavir was shocked to see such childish personality, a trait she carefully hid from others. She perked up every time the front door entered, and tried to hide her disappointment that followed. She picked up her menu to read it for the fifth time from top to bottom, growing more frustrated after each read-through. Her quirks made Ziavir smile.

  Ziavir and Angelia entered the restaurant. “Wait here,” whispered Ziavir to Angelia as he made his way to Alexandra. Alexandra’s face lit up seeing Ziavir, and about leapt to her feet before noticing Ziavir’s outfit and facial expression.

  While she was dressed in noticeably high class attire, Ziavir’s clothing was inconspicuous, like a man planning to murder someone. He wore dark clothes and a ball cap he’d bought from a homeless man. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink the night before, which was rather accurate.

  And he was soaking wet from head to toe.

  “Ziavir? Was I mistaken or did I think that tonight called for…better fashion?” asked Alexandra. She twisted her face with disgust. “I think the servers are likely to throw you out of here.”

  “Alexandra—”

  “Now you know I don’t like you calling me that. Too many fat businessmen call me that. You know I prefer for you to call me, Alex.”

  Ziavir smirked. He closed the distance between them as quickly as he could, and whispered, “Yes, Alex.” Then Ziavir grabbed Alexandra and kissed her softly, longer than he normally did for any greeting. It was the first moment he hadn’t thought about his Emperor in danger without him there to protect him. Alexandra embraced the length of the kiss with as much pleasure as he did.

  When it ended, Alexandra stepped back and said, “Excellent.” Ziavir wasn’t sure if she was commenting on his submission or in the kiss. Probably both. “Shall we sit? You sounded stressed on the phone.”

  Alexandra slithered into the booth. The speed at which she sat down and her surprising temperament of excitement tortured Ziavir.

  She thinks I intend to propose. Why else would I ask her to meet me, in Chicago’s most expensive and romantic restaurant, after months of talking about getting married?

  As Ziavir sat down, Alexandra’s hands reached out and grabbed his from across the table. She squeezed them tightly and beamed the brightest smile. “I think I can forgive you this once for not understanding the dress code. As long as you promise to make tonight special,” she said. Ziavir felt a hot iron press into his chest. He had to swallow and look away before he could answer.

  “Alex…that’s not why I have asked you here. I’m on assignment…and I need your help.”

  “But…it’s our anniversary,” said Alexandra.

  Ziavir cursed under his breath. He had forgotten about that. He felt the ring in his pocket pressed against his side. He had half the mind to propose despite his promise.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry about that. But our celebration will have to wait.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Ziavir, what’s going on?”

  I wish I knew myself.

  Ziavir swallowed and said, “I can’t tell you details.”

  She glanced behind her shoulder, toward the bar, and whispered back to him, “Does this have anything to do with what’s happening at the Palace?”

  “I can’t discuss anything. I’m putting your life at too much risk even asking for your help.”

  Alexandra was perplexed, and by the look in her eye Ziavir knew she was upset. Maybe she had hoped for tonight to be a night they would remember for better reasons than business. Her expression changed, getting harder and sterner. She crossed her arms, stifling any upset remark. “Okay, Ziavir. What do you need?”

  Instead of answering directly, Ziavir turned to face the front door and waved to Angelia. The woman nodded and approached.

  “This,” whispered Ziavir once Angelia arrived, “Is Angelia. She works at the Palace. She needs to disappear with a new identity. Nobody can ever find her.”

  Alexandra looked Angelia up and down. Her eyes halted at the black tattooed band around Angelia’s neck. Angelia tried to hide it with her coat collar and blouse, but Alexandra was observant. “She’s a slave?”

  Ziavir was startled. He had been so distracted by the battle and smuggling Angelia out of the battle he hadn’t really taken the time to notice details about her. There was no denying that Angelia Foss was a slave.

  The future of the Empire rests upon smuggling a slave out of the Palace? Bretton, what are you up too?

  “Yes, ma’am. I sold myself into slavery many years ago in the Emperor’s service. My family needed the money to afford their medical bills. My family is well taken care of now,” said Angelia.

  Ziavir cringed. Angelia wasn’t embarrassed by it, but Ziavir was. Her situation was common. Life was difficult for Outcasts and it wasn’t unusual for many to sell themselves into slavery to help make ends meet for their families and themselves. Slaves were abundant in Imperial society. Ziavir despised the system. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t really noticed the tattooed slave mark on Angelia.

  Alexandra nodded, less effected by the slave story—or at least better at hiding her reaction. “Ziavir, why is she here?”

  Ziavir leaned in close and whispered, “Her life is in danger. Like I said, I need you to take her and help her disappear; new name, new identity, everything. Nobody can ever find her, not even the Emperor. Can you do that?”

  Alexandra’s confusion came as no surprise. “What is this about? Who is she?”

  “I can’t tell you that—because I don’t even know. I’m just following orders. My orders are to make sure she is safe, no matter the cost. But I need your help. Teach her to hide and then forget she exists to protect both of you. Can you do that?”

  Alexandra looked back and forth between Ziavir and Angelia. “I…I can call in some favors and see, but yeah, I think I can do that.”

  “Good. Can you do it tonight?”

  “Ziavir, what’s going on?” Alexandra pitched her voice above a whisper and laced her words with authority. Ziavir sensed her rising fear. He wanted to say more but froze when something on the televisions caught his attention. He looked up to see a Noble anchorwoman speaking on the monitor.

  “We interrupt this program to bring you tonight’s news alert,” said the anchorwoman. The image on the television suddenly changed to video of the battle at the Palace. Bodies lay on the front steps and blaster fire damage covered the front of the building. “As many of us are already aware, First General Adam Rythe marched upon the Palace today. The siege has now gone on for—”

  Suddenly the image cut out to static. Whispers echoed across the room. Then the image returned, except instead of the anchorwoman on the screen First General Adam Rythe appeared.

  He wore the Emperor’s crown.

  “Citizens and slaves of the Imperial Empire,” said Adam Rythe, “I wish to inform you that Emperor Bretton passed away today. My forces have taken and secured the throne. I have the support of the Senate, and I now occupy the Noble throne as your Emperor. Long live the Emperor.”

  Panicked cries filled the room. People rushed from their seats and out the door.


  “By God, Adam,” Ziavir breathed with a curse under his breath. Only he, Alexandra, and Angelia remained seated as the restaurant cleared. The blood drained from Alexandra’s face. Angelia gasped and collapsed into a seat. She held her hands tightly across her stomach as tears fell from her eyes.

  “Allow me to explain my actions today, so there will be no confusion,” said Adam, drawing Ziavir’s attention back to the television. “My reasons are simple. You deserve better leadership. For years, Emperor Bretton has led this Empire through radical and unacceptable transitions. His policies risked harm to our way of life, and I could no longer sit back and allow him to destroy the Empire we all love. I admired Emperor Bretton, and I hurt with you today, but I love my home more and was not willing to see it fall into destruction. Therefore, I have done what was best for our future. A new day will dawn on this Empire and we will be great once again—I assure you of that.

  “I will lead you into a new era of Imperial rule. I will not surrender to our enemies. We will grow as a people, as a nation, and as a way of life. I will expand our borders where Emperor Bretton thought to shrink them. I will empower the Noble class where Emperor Bretton only sought to take power away from them. I will ensure security and stability, where Bretton only promised dissatisfaction and insecurity.”

  Suddenly there were a series of cries from outside followed by a series of gunshots. Blaster fire responded. Ziavir’s blood turned to ice. “Get down!” he shouted as he pushed Alexandra beneath the table.

  “Ziavir, what’s going on? Does this have to do with the slave? What do we do?” Alexandra pleaded. Ziavir didn’t answer her. He was more concerned with the sounds outside in the streets.

  Adam’s soldiers had followed him to Chicago.

  “As I speak Emperor Bretton’s strongest supporters are being removed from their influential roles. His disease will die with him. My men are sweeping across our cities to ensure stability and control take place. Do not threaten them. They will not hesitate to eliminate any opposition to their mission. Their job is to do whatever it takes to ensure our people are safe and can thrive once again.”