by O. J. Lowe
He hadn’t warned her about her treacherous brother though. That irked her. Collison or whatever he was calling himself these days under his new identity, he could have ruined everything. She’d sought to give him a place at her side, ideally her daughter would have stood there as well, the last three in the kingdoms to bear the Coppinger blood. It was difficult to get what you desired. Meredith was an ungrateful little bitch, their meeting before her wedding had proved that. If she was honest, it was no great loss. She should have terminated her before she was born, as horrific as it might have sounded. The presence of a child into a busy life would always lead to complications, how many and how quickly had been something she’d been unable to anticipate.
In short, although the moments of joy and affection had been there, they’d been fewer the longer time had gone by. Recent years had been a battle for supremacy, one she had no intention of losing. A spoilt teenager become sulky young woman couldn’t hope to outmatch her. She’d crushed better opponents than her daughter long before she’d turned her thoughts to divinity.
YOU! YOU HAVE COME TO SEEK WHAT ONCE WAS LOST TO ALL OF MORTAL MANKIND!
She shuddered. The voice rang through her ears, a booming echo that made her flinch. Domis put a hand on her shoulder, his concern touching. Rocastle blew on his nails. Mazoud kept his face impassive but she knew those eyes were searching for any sign of weakness in her. Weakness was abhorrent. She would not show it, not to her biggest supporters. These people all had their part to play in delivering the kingdoms to her and she had to keep them not just in awe of her but fearing her as well. The moment one of them stepped above their station, she’d smack them down.
“We’re going to go around the room, you’re going to enlighten the rest of us with how your project is going. We all have tasks after all. Left to right, from me. Mister Costa?”
Jake Costa, short of stature with his dark hair thick with grease, cleared his throat. He didn’t stand up. Not that it would have made too much of a difference. Since she’d moved Rocastle to training, Costa was working the recruitment side of things. He was a natural organiser, he’d overseen many of the building projects she’d undertaken in the early days. He’d organised the building of her airborne base, it was a project that he’d live or die by and he’d absolutely thrived with the responsibility. He’d finished ahead of schedule and his rewards had been great. She could trust him more than most, of that she was certain. Trust was earned. That he’d done.
WHAT YOU SEEK WAS LOST FOR A REASON!
“I’ve put together a network,” he said. “I think the previous organiser of this role…” He didn’t look at Rocastle as he said it. She didn’t like that the decision to make the change had been forced upon her. Rocastle couldn’t be trusted to wander free these days. He’d used up all his chances in that respect. Once he gotten out from underneath her, where he thought she couldn’t get him, he’d become too predictable in his unpredictability. He’d go do something stupid, it was just a trouble to work out what. It might well involve his biggest pet grudge but equally it might not. She couldn’t keep someone on him day and night to make sure he toed the line.
“… Had the right idea in approaching those with a grudge against the current order. These people are the ones most easily persuaded to throw aside any lingering loyalties they may have had and take up a new cause. We know what you are selling, Mistress, nothing less than revolution and there will always be those eager to take a part in it. My network is building steam, I did my research and used the model they used to create Unisco. Irony, I think you’ll find, is a beautiful thing sometimes.”
She did agree with the irony, much as she’d never admit it, instead let him continue speaking.
“It started with me. I looked at the kingdoms we don’t have a controlling interest in…” Mazoud bared his teeth at the comment, Costa either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “… I looked to Serran and Burykia, Canterage and Premesoir. I picked four names that I could trust, one for each kingdom. I explained what I wanted from them, what I was looking for and then I sent them off into the world. They were to spread their influence, they were to find people they could trust and implant them into each major city across the kingdoms, like a pyramid. If we can get enough people sympathetic to our cause, it will make the difference when it comes to taking the kingdoms with military might.”
RETAKING IT FOR YOURSELF WILL TAKE YOU DOWN A PATH YOU WILL NOT EASILY BE ABLE TO BREAK FROM!
Another pause, he wetted his lips with his tongue. Underneath her clothes, she was sweating. Those memories felt all too vivid. “As for direct recruits, I ask them to keep the names of some of them aside, those that they think hold the most promise. Some can go into our private armies, some into Mister Rocastle’s specialist forces, some into key positions we don’t want to trust to clones.”
A casual comment but one with spite running deep within it. She knew that some of her people thought that way. It wasn’t much of a secret, they had their grudges. They’d worked for her and then along came the clones. That they were to be used mainly as cannon fodder and expendables was something that hadn’t truly ever occurred to them. She’d overrun her opponents if it came to it, swarm them with body after body until they could fight no more. An inelegant way to win a battle but effectively simple. Alaxaphal had assured her that any victory was a good one.
YOU THINK THIS WILL BE EASY, A SIMPLE THING. SOMETHING THAT COULD BE DONE BY A CHILD. YOU. KNOW. NOTHING!
“Very good, Mister Costa,” she said, keeping her face straight. The voice wasn’t present. Only her memories of it. Those memories couldn’t hurt her. Not if she stayed focused on the tasks at hand. That train of thought she’d been on took her nicely to the next speaker. “Grand Marshall Alaxaphal?”
Bernd Alaxaphal got to his feet with a smile and a swagger, his hands twitched at his sides, she could see he was trying to shake off the impulse of too many years of military service. He wanted to salute her, the way any serviceman would salute their commander-in-chief. His career had ended in ignominy, not the way that a true hero should be permitted to go out after years of dedicated service. Subtractor had pointed him out to her. The man had good instincts, she had to admit. Overtures to Alaxaphal had been made. He’d been drummed out of the Serranian military, had been acknowledged as a fine tactical mind. He’d never seen eye-to-eye with his superiors, Subtractor had told them. There’d been some incidences regarding the early skirmishes with her forces. Alaxaphal had wanted to do one thing, his superiors had demanded entirely another. He’d done his own thing, a risky move that had failed to pay off and hundreds of Serranian armed forces servicemen had been wiped out. It was the conflict that had led to the single greatest loss of life in her civil war so far.
Strange really that Alaxaphal should wind up on her side then. He’d been willing, she’d seen the bitterness in him. He’d jumped at the chance of taking charge of an entire army, the one man responsible for overseeing everything. She wanted a figurehead who could do the job and one battle in which he’d made bad choices should not tar him for life. Part of her wondered if the disagreement with his superiors had rattled him, forced him into decisions he might not normally have made. She’d promised him complete autonomy, only that he reported to her at times like this with progress.
“Thanks to the help of Premier Mazoud’s forces in Vazara, that kingdom has been pacified,” Alaxaphal said. With his iron grey hair and moustache, he held the perfect poise of authority that she wanted. When he stood up straight, you might never have guessed at the limp he carried when moving, the souvenir of an old battle he’d never had fixed. “There may be some stray pockets of resistance, but we are in control. One of the kingdoms is ours. I am currently in the process of formulating attack plans to take the other four. Based on proximity to Vazara, I suggest trying to annex Serran next. We have a solid platform from which to build, as well as a plentiful supply of reinforcements from Premier Mazoud’s troops.”
“I’m not removi
ng my men from their positions to back up your invasion of Serran,” Mazoud’s hologram piped up. Claudia stiffened at that. “I need the Suns where they are. You mention these pockets of resistance but they’re more than that. If my military presence is removed, I could end up with a full-scale rebellion and I don’t need that right now. I’m in favour of invading Serran, they’re the worst sort of offenders against my kingdom, but you surely have enough…”
“Phillipe, you’ll do what you’re told,” she said. Divines, she’d enjoyed seeing the way the look went off his face as if she’d strode up to him and slapped him. “If we need your troops to take Serran, you’ll move them to Serran. In the meantime, if you do have a problem with a rebellion, then you crush them like insects. If you’re incapable, I’m sure we can find someone who isn’t.”
“Mistress,” Mazoud said pointedly. She could hear the indignation in his voice. “It is not as simple as you think. These people are rats, they scurry into their bolt holes and their safe dens. It is a case of finding them before we can crush them.”
SIMPLICITY IS GOING TO BE DENIED TO YOU. YOUR PATH IS A LONG ONE. ONE THAT WILL MAKE YOU OR BREAK YOU.
“You knew this could happen,” she said, velvet creeping into her voice. “You said as much to me before when we discussed this. And what was it you also said to me? Don’t worry, I can handle it. You’ve been in the job for a few weeks, Phillipe, you made me a promise and I suggest you handle it. It would be disastrous for the stability of your kingdom if you were to be removed from power already.”
“I took this kingdom by right!” Mazoud snarled. “It is mine and…”
“And if you wish for it to remain that way, you won’t try and dictate terms to me,” she said. “Better men than you have tried. Men who had the right to think they could make the attempt. Remember your place, you’re nothing but a mercenary who I raised above his station. I made you Premier. I can take it away again if I wish.” He looked furious but held his tongue. She relaxed her scowl, let her lips curl into the alien gesture of a smile. Her teeth itched but iron wrapped in velvet made more of an impact than one or the other. “I don’t want to. I think we can go on to do great things together, Phillipe. All of us are here because you chose to believe in what I promised you that we could do. I do not have any desire for the invasion of Serran to start any time soon. Too many more pieces have to fall in place. None of you will move to attack without my express permission.”
She felt the twinge in her wrist, confirming her suspicions. They did believe. Some of them believed in her now more than ever. More of them feared her but fear was just another form of worship. Fear had a different taste to love, a taste so much more expressive. Fear and love, two sides of the same credit. Either way, they’d surrendered a part of themselves to her whim.
YOU HAVE MUCH CONFLICT IN YOUR HEART. A DESIRE TO DO WHAT YOU BELIEVE IS RIGHT.
“Since you seem so eager to talk, Phillipe,” she said. “Tell me of your progress in Vazara, other than your latent inability to crush these rebels you talk about.” Privately she doubted his words. Talk of rebellion felt like an excuse for failure.
Mazoud looked a little more mollified by her words, puffed his chest out like a majestic pigeon and cleared his throat. It sounded like a speeder choking smog out of its own emission pipe. She hid her disgust. “Since I took the throne, there have been constant attacks out in the outskirts, Nwakili supporters all of them, we believe. They don’t like the way I became ruler. They said it was unlawful. These people are weak. They want to hide behind words rather than actions. They forget the old ways that Vazara practiced for years. We elect our leaders through blood. Not paper.”
And how did that ultimately work out for you, she wanted to ask him. She’d savaged his ego enough for today. Pricking it further might lead to him wilfully disobeying her, taking his own initiative and that could be fatal. Vazara had always been a piss-hole of a kingdom, full of those with nothing being dictated to by those that had snatched everything. When you had everything, it tended to blind you to what mattered. Not her though. She knew what mattered. She would never have gotten this far without her fortune. It hadn’t been a fortune when she’d acquired it though, oh no, building it up had been all her. It had been split between her and her brother after her parent’s death, Collison had given it away and she’d been furious with him when he’d walked out of her life.
YOUR BELIEF WILL COST YOU MANY THINGS. YET WHAT MUST NEVER FAIL IS YOUR CONVICTION.
Mazoud continued, oblivious to her silent musings. “… Have since sought to educate more, I’ve passed a bill through the warlord council to see that a dozen new schools are built in each major city within two years. I’ve put someone ensuring that the Vazaran Suns are the premier enforcement organisation across the kingdom, splitting the organisation into branches, one domestically, one paramilitarily, one covertly, etc. We will need a mass of new recruits, specialists in chosen fields, I hope to create something that can serve as a counter to the Unisco model.”
Subtractor laughed at that. “You don’t have a hope, Mazoud.” She saw him bristle at that. He didn’t like being referred to solely by his last name. He’d had bad experiences with authority figures who did that. It was thankful for all involved that neither of them was physically present. “Dozens have tried to copy the Unisco model. It was set up in a different time by five remarkable individuals through willpower alone, it has adapted to still be relevant today. To be accepted, Unisco had to endure, to change where change was due. The model of fifty years ago wouldn’t work today, today’s model didn’t just spring up overnight. It’s fifty years of building and adaptability. You can’t hope to replicate that in months.”
YOUR CONVICTION WILL REND YOUR PATH SMOOTHER. IF YOU DO NOT BELIEVE, THEN YOU WILL NOT REACH YOUR DESTINATION.
“Says the traitor,” Mazoud hissed. “You know what we do to traitors in Vazara?”
“The same as anywhere else,” Subtractor said, his voice flippant with a lack of concern. “Death, I imagine? Am I close? Disgrace? Oh, that’s a good one. Hmmm, how about stripping of all assets and personal property? I think you don’t even need to be a traitor for that to happen in Vazara these days, if I’m correct? Am I right, anyone want to tell me otherwise? Still, all in progress, eh Premier?”
“It sounds…” she interjected. “… like you are doing something, at least, Phillipe. The same cannot be said for the majority of politicians these days. All they wish it to bicker and squabble, line their pockets. Those that do wish to do good are swallowed up amidst a cradle of corruption and venal self-interest. Your predecessor set out to do good things and what did he ultimately accomplish that will be remembered with any sort of fondness?”
“It is a challenge that I could not turn down,” Mazoud said, not a hint of pride in his voice though she could tell he was bursting to let it out. She had the measure of the man and what his ego desired was recognition more than anything else. “If history remembers me as an illegitimate ruler, I care not one jot. If it remembers me as a great leader, then I have done my job. I have done my duty towards every true Vazaran, the ones who came back when I ordered them to. Any who remained nestled behind the lines of our enemies will be treated as pariahs when we take the kingdoms.”
A DESTINATION AWAITS YOU. ONE OF PARADISE, ONE OF DESPAIR. STEP TRUE FOR ONLY ONE IS YOUR LEGACY.
It’s we now, is it? After you initially refused to help with the invasion of Serran when it was put to you. She couldn’t help but let the small smile spread across her lips at that realisation. Mazoud could be quite selective when he chose to be. He wanted the glory but none of the effort. He’d spent a lifetime using his mouth instead of his hands, he’d managed to manipulate the Suns into making him their leader, but she wasn’t falling for it. He had his place and she meant to keep him in it.
“Mister Rocastle,” she said. She’d heard enough from Mazoud for the time being. “Report.”
Harvey Rocastle got to his feet uneasily, he didn’t hol
d himself with the same swagger as he had before, she noted with private amusement. Losing a leg could do that to a man. He didn’t have the same edge he’d possessed before, though she doubted it had left him completely. The hunk of metal perched out the end of his stump left him looking unbalanced, a tree swaying in the wind but never quite falling. He hadn’t gotten used to it yet. Sometimes she imagined him confined to his quarters and weeping. He was the sort who would resort to that. He liked to think he was big and tough, but he was like glass. He’d shatter under pressure. He’d really let himself go, she saw, the disgust curling at her like smoke. He’d always been on the heavy side since she’d known him, now the buttons on his shirt were straining to contain him, sweat thick across his collar. It wasn’t a warm room, but he looked like he was suffering.
EITHER PATH WILL TRIAL YOU COMPLETELY. SHAPE YOU ANEW. LEAD YOU TO YOUR TRUTH.
Discretely, she slipped her hand below the desk and fiddled with the room controls. She didn’t have to look, her fingers found the appropriate knob and she twisted it two notches, three notches, four. The temperature was going to rise shortly, she enjoyed seeing him in discomfort. More than that, she wanted to see how he reacted under pressure. Maybe the lessons she’d bestowed on him had helped mould him into something better. The heat didn’t bother her.
“Well, Mistress,” he said. Always that simpering tone that made her want to slap him, offence to her ears that couldn’t be blotted out. “My angels are proving their worth, I think you’ll find. Already we have despatched them on several successful missions, I have to say. They’re currently out in the field as we speak, at your request we deal with the old man.” Another way in which Subtractor had come through for her, he’d pointed out Frewster as a person of interest based on some old documents he’d turned up. “Our numbers are at an all-time high. We have seventeen currently ready for active duty at any one time, we must presume that dear Reda is lost to us…”