Then, he took a trip to Guapa and when he came back after a couple of weeks, he brought a silver prino horse back with him.
“Everyone, meet my new right-hand,” he told the court on that day.
Once again, there was shock, but not much of a surprise.
It was the last straw.
One night, without warning, without another thought in his head, Cheron took it upon himself to have a party. Not just any party, but the dirtiest of parties, and not just of the sexual kind. Every kind of filth, from human to animal to parasite was there and all kinds of acts were being permitted inside the Santos Palace. Timon had parties like this before, but they were away from the Santos Palace.
This particular party was at the heart of the home of Crystal Metropolis kings. The home Pisanio Santos made for his future descendants had turned into an extravagant harem for a maniacal king.
By the time the party was over, the Santos Palace was a mess. It was the worst shape ever since the Santos Palace Fire. Cheron ordered that the high cursers, not the servants or those appointed by Cheron himself, clean the mess up.
While they had to do that, Cheron took a trip to Troyuvant with some soldiers. They had a story to tell as well.
When they arrived there, they thought they were going to fight a war or deal with a dispute between the Troyuvant drug guilds. Instead, it turned out to be an expedition for old fossils from creatures in the ATM’s past. They were asked to find one and if not, face certain execution. News spread in the inhabitants of Troyuvant that this was the greatest joke coming from the Santos regime.
The army could not take it anymore. The high cursers could not take it anymore. The Crystal Metropolitans could not take it anymore. All sides agreed that something had to be done.
The only question was who would make the first move.
****
Despite the change in mind frame, the most thoughtful of Cheron’s actions were appointing new cursers, who were thinking about disbanding themselves from Cheron Santos.
Being a curser or a person of position in the Crystal Metropolis royal court was the highest honor anyone could get. It was better than being a strator because they were the eyes and ears of the king, while the strators was only for the people of the planet, and that in itself was a fabrication most of the time. If a person was a curser of a good king, their future was secured.
Fifty-five year old curser Malvolio Nihon had been a curser since the dwelling years of Nero Santos. He had been a favorite with Timon. It had gotten to a point in Timon’s reign that he wanted to end his streak as one and retire in peace. Then, Cheron came into the picture and there was a ray of hope. Malvolio came back into the curser game with a new perspective. He was going to make changes in the way the royal court handle things.
Then, Cheron lost his mind, ending Malvolio’s dreams with them. He knew that sooner or later, he was going to be in fear of his life. He saw the new addition of cursers from parts unknown, turning more into a criminal organization than a royal institution. His friends were being disbanded left to right. He knew that his future was more at stake than ever before.
While Cheron was in Troyuvant in his “expedition,” Malvolio had heard of rumors of past cursers coming together as a group called the “Fallen Court.” It was not until someone told Malvolio about it that there was a chance this group existed. A frequent member gave him a secret flyer and Malvolio took it without regard.
The meeting took place in an inn near the outskirts of the surrounding city passed the Santos Palace. Malvolio entered and viewed a gang of them in the main conference room. He recognized some of his former comrades in the Fallen Court.
One was a best friend named Flaminius, who came into the cursership with him as a young adult. Then, there was Aimens, the most menacing of the cursers who exiled himself because there was no way he was going to be a curser without his friends. He had great respect for Malvolio and quieted the already agitated group so that he could introduce him into the meeting. When all greetings were set aside, the talking out of turn continued. Aimens held his hands up and everyone got quiet.
“Look, we all have our concerns and all will be brought into the open soon,” Aimens said. “At least we all know what the main issue of this meeting is. Cheron Santos has to step down as king before we all end up losing our jobs. And if that happens, it’s going to mean worse for everyone else in Crystal Metropolis.”
“I agree,” Flaminius said. “Cheron’s losing his mind. But we must also realize that if we fail, it’s going to mean more than our jobs.”
“That’s why we won’t fail. There’s only one thing that stops everyone and that’s us in this room. We’re the only ones that can take us down.”
Another count said, “Anything that we do, it has to send off signals. It has to tell the people that we won’t tolerate this. No king is above Crystal Metropolis.”
Then, some said, “Down with the king!”
"He has to die!"
Aimens put his fist in the air. “That’s right! Cheron Santos has to die!”
Malvolio heard more and more conversations and it came down to two conclusions. One was that despite how they felt about each other, they could come together for a cause. Second, they also saw this as some kind of business opportunity. Cursers were the power behind the palace, and were content to play powerbrokers to the empire.
Finally, Malvolio stood up and Aimens gave him the floor.
“I’ve been hearing all of you talk,” he said. “And I agree. But what you’re asking is anarchy. You want to kill Cheron? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Why not?” Aimens asked. “The people won’t care. Cheron’s sadistic. How long do you think it will be before he kills all of us? Or you? Another year? Another ten? Maybe tomorrow?”
“You believe that? Do you know what will happen? If we do that, we’re pissing on the memory of the Santos name and let’s not forget this. That’s the reason why we have anything. The Santos has been generous in giving us these titles and property. Where do you think you’ll be if you weren’t a curser? I tell you. Probably in the darkness like you gentlemen are thinking of journeying right now.”
Aimens knew that this was going to be a heated debate, and he did not have that kind of time. It took a while to get the other lower-level cursers to agree with him.
Malvolio was no pushover. He took his title seriously and he knew what Aimens wanted to achieve, which meant Aimens was not someone he wanted to make an enemy.
Aimens got into his face. “What are you trying to say?” he asked. "Are you saying you’re for this crazy king?”
“I’m not saying that at all,” Malvolio said. He took a deep breath and chose his words carefully. “What I’m saying is let’s not go in like butchers. We don’t want another Pisanio Santos on our hands. Wouldn’t you agree? If you want to kill Cheron, then kill the man known as Cheron, not the Santos legacy. I don’t care what happens. He has gone over the deep end. Just think about it carefully. That’s all I’m saying.”
He had more words, but Aimens held his hand up.
“I’m partially satisfied,” Aimens said. “Consider yourself safe from me.”
Aimens went back into the front and continued the meeting. Malvolio went into a corner, taking a glass of wine to make it as if he agreed with everything Aimens said. Inside, he thought of a backup plan if this brigade’s plan did not work. He knew that whatever they decided, it was going to spark headlines all over the ATM. If it was up to him, he was going to make it as quiet as he could be. But he knew that if there was a chance Cheron’s reign could be destroyed, then he would strike the blow himself.
When the meeting was over, he made some calls to some people that he would need the most when all was over. Then, he was going to make some wills out to his family, who were away from Crystal Metropolis for the time being, and tell them of what’s about to happen.
The worse, he thought. Only the worse.
****
70
B.E.
The Fallen Court waited for the chance to get rid of Cheron. So far, throughout the last year since they made the plan up, there was no open opportunity. He was fanatical and insane, but not ignorant.
Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself in the beginning of 70 B.E.
Cheron arranged to go to a private show being played at the Theater of the Starstriker. The show dealt with a story about Pisanio Santos and the king wanted to personally view it to make sure they got the story correct and in good liking. Only the royal family, which included the king, his wife, his daughter, and his sisters, were to be in attendance.
Aimens told his gang that when the show was over, he was going to get some of the cursers to disguise themselves as soldiers and blocked the passage away from the rest of the people by using some sort of excuse, thinking that the king would come away last.
On the night, there was a problem. The king was the only one there. A handful of people were in attendance to include some strators and lators watching the show with him.
Aimens left the theater and went into the streets. Some of them came to meet him halfway.
“They must be inside the Santos Palace,” he said. “If that’s the case, then some of us have to go there right away. Tell the others inside that a signal will be given to let them know that the king is dead. Then, we take care of everyone else. Anyone who goes against us is dead, understand?”
Everyone was in agreement. Aimens went with some of the men to the palace while others went back inside.
Hours going into it, Cheron was getting tired and left, satisfied that this showing of the story of Pisanio would put him back in favor with the people. He was heading to the exit with his caravan following him.
Cheron showed off the Starstriker ring as he laughed at a joke made by a strator. The soldiers stayed motionless. Cheron kept it up until they took a good look at it.
Then, one of the soldiers said, “Like we suppose to care now.”
Out came the sword and swapped off Cheron’s hand. Cheron fell to the ground by the exit and immediately began screaming for help. Before the strators could run, they were shots coming out from all over the place. More men came out from out of nowhere, shooting anyone that tried to escape. No matter what title they held, they could be potential witnesses and had to be executed. They knew that they were with Cheron Santos and that was good enough of an excuse to die.
By the time it was over, the entire caravan was dead. Cheron was still lying in the middle of the street bleeding profusely and trying to get up with one hand. One of the soldiers picked up his severed hand, took the Starstriker ring off his finger, and gave it to another comrade.
“Give it to whoever will take the title next,” he commanded.
When the short and stubby soldier left with the ring, the rest of the men stood over Cheron’s body.
Even though he was going into shock from all of the blood loss, Cheron managed to get out, “How… dare you! I’m the King… I’ll have all of you killed along with your families.”
The soldiers laughed. Then, out came the swords. They came around Cheron’s body and stabbed with all the force they could. Cheron grabbed whatever or whoever he could, but it was no use. Cheron was at the mercy of his own soldiers alone and helpless. No one came to his rescue no matter how loud his screams were.
By the time it was over, Cheron was said to have been stabbed thirty times. One of the soldiers even defecated on him; a sign that represented everything Cheron had been.
History had repeated itself. Cheron Priam Santos, who only ruled for four years, was dead and robbed of everything on him. It was the worse death since the first Santos ruler...
****
Aimens was more nervous than he thought he could be. He knew that if Cheron managed to escape from this, he was in trouble. He looked out from the window.
There, he saw it. The flare was as immense and dazzling as it could be.
“There it is,” he told the group. “Start bringing them out.”
Then, while the palace was as quiet as it could be, each of the cursers put on their masks and went into the many rooms of the palace. As soon as they burst through the doors, they let their bloodlust loose, stabbing, slashing, or shooting with silencer bullets anyone that was Cheron Santos-branded to include the influx of street cursers appointed by Cheron, other officials and leaders, or bystanders.
It had gotten to a point that it did not matter if they were connected to Cheron or not. The enraged cursers started killing anyone within distance.
One person awakened to see what was going on and gave out a scream. She was shot down on sight, but the call was made.
Cassandra and Rosaline Santos got up from their beds to see what was going on. Before they knew, several of the cursers grabbed them by the hair and other ligaments, trying to tear them apart. The Priam sisters screamed out for their brother while trying to grab each other’s hands, but there was no one coming. The brought them to their knees and as they cried out for mercy, their heads were cut off cleanly.
It was antebellum in the Santos Palace. Blood, guts, blades and bullet shell cases were everywhere. One of them even let out a flare of his own to let anyone know who was awake what was happening at that moment.
Aimens went into the king and queen’s room. There was no sign of the Queen anywhere. Aimens was pissed and ordered his men to “tear the entire palace down if they have to, but find them!”
****
Queen Andromache and Strator Ichiamo Boardwalk Santos were in the same room together on top of another level. They heard noises, but pay it no mind. Worry came over Ichiamo's face. He was getting older by the minute and his stomach could not take much more madness. Andromache watched her little girl Arturo with shorten hair playing with a plastic sword.
“Where’s Cheron?” she asked Ichiamo. "What’s taking him so long?”
Ichiamo circled around in his seat, hitting his head to get the sound out. “I’m more worried about what that noise is. It sounds like it’s coming from downstairs.”
“Who knows what’s going on with that man?”
A pause.
“I fear something’s going to happen to him,” Andromache said.
“What do you think will happen?” Ichiamo asked.
“The worst. Cheron knows that there are some people out there that hate him, but I don’t think he knows how much.”
“I’ll talk with him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t make any more mistakes.”
Then, three men in masks burst into the room and looked around. There was no one else but the three, and with that knowledge, one of them took out his silencer and shot Andromache right through the eye. This put Ichiamo into hysterics. He dropped down from his chair and tried to find a nice corner to cover himself with. Another soldier grabbed little Arturo and while she was screaming, raised her to the air and slammed her down with as much force as possible, cracking her skull in two.
Ichiamo was the only one left and he covered all of his face so no one could see what he looked like as a frightened old man. The third of the men took Ichiamo’s hands away. They paused for a few seconds, taking another look at the now-dead queen and princess. Then, two of the men took Ichiamo by the arms and dragged him out of the room.
The three men brought him downstairs, where Ichiamo saw first-hand all of the carnage made by the Fallen Court barrage. A part of him could not help but compare this kind of bloodshed to his own father Timon's purges. The men took him to the main throne room, where he saw that they were some that came out without a scratch.
Unmasked, Aimens scope out the faces and was impressed that he did not see anyone else that needed to be punished.
One of them took off his masks, revealing Malvolio. He could not believe what his fellow curser was doing. Then, he saw Ichiamo on his knees in distress. Before he could go to him, he saw that a comrade came down with the crown and the Starstriker ring in his hands. He gave it to Malvolio. Malvolio took the items, observed them,
and then at a scared Ichiamo.
He walked slowly to him. Ichiamo tried his best to plead with them, but before he could do, Malvolio raised him to his feet, and quickly put the crown on his head and the Starstriker ring on his finger.
“HAIL KING ICHIAMO SANTOS!” Malvolio bellowed to the top of his lungs.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and saw the gesture. Aimens was bewildered, but saw that Malvolio was not backing down.
"What are you doing?" Aimens asked.
INIQUITOUS DOMINION: The Galactic Classic Page 12