Red Circus

  Her hair dripped on the warm floorboard. Riley dragged what was left of her strength to bed. The sound of crunching paper perplexed her. She lifted her head from the pillow and pressed on it again. The sound was back. In a second, she dug her hand inside the pillowcase and felt an abundance of small papers with red ink. Riley was aware she was not to pull it out and read it, not while she was exposed to the cameras around. She took one of the papers discreetly and hid it under the sheets. As hard as it was to read under the dim light of the chandeliers, she was able to make out the message.

  ~North Caligo~

  Jonathan stared unmoving at the stack of papers in front of him. They were smeared with coffee and tea stains. The texts were written in a rush with the Old World’s ink.

  He had been reading his father’s journals for hours, about royal affairs, love affairs, dirty affairs… but there was nothing about Riley. He was able to learn secrets about almost each one of the castle staff, but nothing of interest came to his attention. What if he was wrong to accuse her of sleeping with his father? It was tearing on him to be sharing bed with the woman he wanted to own. The thought of having her touch anyone other than him made his skin itch.

  Jonathan scratched the back of his hands and let out a sigh. He was going insane.

  With one sweep of his arm over the desk, the papers fell to the ground as light as a feather. Two taps on the desk, and a control pad appeared on the wooden surface. A large screen floated in the air in front of him, displaying the royal database.

  Jonathan swiped from one person living in the castle to another, none of major interest to him. He then threw the files to the left and surfed to the most recent ones. One folder read Cirque Et Feu. He zoomed in on Riley’s file.

  Charles Arnold’s code appeared on his cellulogram.

  “This is not the right time,” Jonathan told him gravely, declining the live video call option.

  “You need a new consultant, my king. The voting starts in ten minutes at the Symposium.”

  Jonathan bit the inside of his cheek, muttered a curse, and left his office.

  The Symposium door opened automatically as soon as the sensors detected the king’s shape. Jonathan walked inside and looked around at the attendees. Charles Arnold scrutinized his king and noticed how careless he was. He had to choose a new consultant who would be by his side for all his royal affairs and he did not even think it through.

  “Who are the candidates?” Jonathan spoke gravelly.

  Three stepped forward. It was Toby Long, Craig Ranger, and a very refined woman with a strangely tight hair bun that made Jonathan’s head ache.

  “Toby Long, my King,” Toby spoke and bowed respectively.

  “On your knees,” Jonathan ordered the three of them.

  Charles frowned and immediately looked at his king.

  It was not about humiliation as much as it was about how far these consultants would go for their king.

  “My k—” Charles started, but Jonathan pulled his hand up and silenced him.

  The three candidates went down confusedly to their knees and their eyes only met the floor.

  Jonathan walked around them, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was no person known for geniality and the candidates were made aware of that. Some of them were subjected to the cruelty of his choices when it came to decisions against rebels, but one did not know that. Jonathan eyed Ariel from head to toe. She was bowing down to him, but her eyes never left his. Being here among people who gave up their lives to be in the Assembly, as a candidate for the king’s consultant, meant she must have done something worthy of his attention.

  Jonathan placed the tip of his boots on her scraped knee.

  “Up with your head.”

  Ariel obeyed.

  “Do you or do you not respect the will of your king at any cost?”

  “I do, my king.”

  “Will you work on what is necessary for the kingdom and dismiss any opposition as balderdash?”

  “I shall dismiss nothing, my king. For if I do, I might miss on a small detail that could cost you your life.”

  Jonathan smirked impressed.

  “And why would it?”

  “There are a lot of revolutions out there, from people who do not understand your majesty and your true power. They would do anything to hurt you, my king.”

  “Tough truth,” he scoffed. “Are you a royal?”

  “My family had been a successor of the famous governmental poet and political science professor Hymes. We did not have the chance to join the Assembly, my king. But by being your assistant I shall work for the glory of your name in winning the coming war instead of trying to fit in as a royal.” Ariel threw an eye on her competitors then looked at her king in subordination.

  “On your feet,” Jonathan ordered her.

  Her heels clucked against the glossy floor as she stood up.

  “Charles, the iconprint.”

  Charles smiled proudly and pushed a small blue device inside Jonathan’s palm.

  The king pressed the white neon button in the middle of it. The same neon light emitted from the top of the iconprint and burned a small hole on Ariel’s wrist. She hissed in pain but said nothing. The hole turned into a small blue and black light and the skin seemed untouched.

  “As long as you are my consultant, this will be on. The moment your king dies or you die, this will die with you. Nobody can remove it but me. The moment I need you, I dial a code on my cellulogram and the wrist button will flash a faint white light. You shall obey my every command and answer every call. You understand?”

  “As you say, my king.” Ariel’s eyes shone with excitement.

  “Keep yourself controlled. The moment I feel you are to betray me, or show any sort of irresponsibility, the consequences will be dire.”

  “I understand, my king.”

  The other two candidates remained on the ground, and Jonathan did not bother to tell them to stand up.

  “Now I have other important things to do,” he declared and turned to leave, until Charles spoke.

  “Doesn’t she have to state the oath, my king?”

  Without turning back, Jonathan shook his head.

  “I don’t do oaths. They are words and words can be broken in our times. One bad move and she’ll lose her head.”

  The door clicked close.

  It had not been two minutes inside his office that Charles Arnold requested to see the king again. The doors clicked open and the man with the probing blue eyes entered.

  “Anything wrong with my new consultant?” Jonathan frowned.

  “No,” Charles sighed and sat in front of the king nonchalantly. “But there are pressing matters to discuss.”

  “Can’t it wait for the Assembly meeting?”

  “I’d rather discuss this with you alone.”

  “That sounds grave.” Jonathan relaxed back. “What’s the matter now?”

  “I am in no position to tell you what to do, my king. But there are a lot of news about the movements against the kingdom.”

  “We already established that. We are handling it, aren’t we?”

  “In a way, but there is more to it. Those rogue groups of animals are not rogue after all. We traced the source of North Caligo’s weaponry, and it leads back to the same centre as Cineria’s machinery. We did wipe out Cineria but did the funding stop? No, it moved to North Caligo.”

  “Which centre is that? Why can’t we kill the source of the flame?”

  “The thing is… our experts drew the map of Noteram and were tracing the sources, but they all stopped at certain points where we could not go any further.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All these revolutions in Noteram, and especially Regitum, go back to the same source. If we kill the head, the body will die as well.”

  Jonathan’s head was hurting. They were up for a big fight against an unknown movement, let alone a movement that seemed so strong it reached the entire continent.

  “
I will look into it. Leave me for the night.” He waved Charles Arnold out of the room and the latter happily complied.

  When the door clicked shut, Jonathan covered his eyes and laid the back of his head on the chair. It hadn’t been days since his coronation and he was already facing the start of a big civil war. How could a nation be divided and fight among itself? How could it look at its source of power, source of income, of law, of discipline, of nationalism and spit in its face? It all seemed like a big torn family to Jonathan.

  Family…

  Take a look around! Is this a true nation? I'm certain not even you believe it. No one does. He made a deal yesterday with one of the kingdom's greatest enemies. He's going to cost the West a lot if he goes on with it. Trust me when I say it will be bloody.

  He could not shake off Gabriel’s voice.

  “You fool…” Jonathan straightened up. “How could I have been so blind?” He grabbed his phone and called his intense security team. “I have a job for you,” he said to the team leader. “Difficult job, fruitful nonetheless.”

  Chapter 30

  “A new outbreak is shaking the world. It has been reported in Scientists Today that the famous cancerous cell killer machine the “Equalizer 2300” has been replaced by the “Equalizer 3000” which can, with a snap of a finger, rid you of any tendency for cancer in addition to already existing cancer cells. The Central Hospital of ________ asks the citizens who care about their health to come and test themselves with these perfectly safe machines starting from this moment if they care about a long everlasting life.”

  Riley muted the volume by gesturing down with her hand. Pollution contaminated the Old World which made cancer the most dominant disease to kill anyone. The soil was soaking with fertilizers that made the plants and trees look green, but parasites invaded the fruits and vegetables. The radiation emitted by the devices affected the users’ brain cells. That was until the revolutions, the wars, and World War III, when the East achieved one of its greatest victories. Everything was changing. Plans to save nature and return the balance to the wild life and the environment in general were already taking place. But after Wold War IV, the West yielded and what was thought to be independence and equality between the continents was in fact a form of silent oppression. The earth did not go back to the age of pollution and destructive machines, but there was a huge difference in the services offered in the West, and the ones allowed to get into the East.

  Riley sighed and thought of Rufus. If only he lived a few more days until she took him there, and forcibly let him go into therapy. A few minutes would have been enough to cure him.

  She shook the idea out of her head and waved her hand to the left, shifting to another channel.

  At first Riley could not understand what was happening on the screen. Her mind stopped racing for once, and there was a sudden ringing in her ears. The tragic scene was playing in slow motion and the voice of the reporter was dulling her senses into numbness.

  “The town of North Caligo has finally fallen. The rebellious group was put down a few minutes earlier by the Marches of the royal guards. There were all sorts of resistance, even the townspeople were fighting against the kingdom. However, when the main chief and his main followers were taken down, the townspeople started to back off and plead for mercy. Five out of seven thousand of the population had to be killed for attacking the royal guards, and the rest were taken for questioning.

  “Parental supervision is required. The following scene may be harmful for your children’s eyes. But, this is a message for anyone trying to defy the kingdom’s power… As you can see…”

  Riley muted the TV. The camera was slowly passing over five bodies hanged from the tree next to the resistance cabin built in the middle of the town. Her fingers grazed the sheets praying her assumptions would not be true.

  Next to the chief captain of the resistance group, there were five men. The representative of North Caligo, the chief, had his tongue cut out. Blood was dripping in massive amounts from his open mouth, contrasting against his bluish skin. The camera moved to the other men. Their ears were savagely ripped from their roots and compiled together at the foot of the chief.

  To Riley’s horror, there was one she was able to recognize. A perturbed sob escaped her as her eyes landed on Charbel’s corpse dangling loose from the tree.

  “Son of a bitch!” she screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped in one hoop to the door.

  Outside her chamber, William was standing upright without a word.

  “Where’s Lord Walter?” she asked her guard shaking.

  “Miss Red. You look upset. Is everything alright?” he asked her.

  “Oh for fuck’s sakes. I knew he wouldn’t be here.” She let a flow of curses fly under her breath.

  That was the fastest she had ever walked in her life. She did not know how she was passing floors and pushing whoever was in her way.

  “Miss Red!” William’s voice was fading as he ran by her.

  “Where’s the king?! Where is Jonathan?!” she was screaming in the middle of the castle.

  Everything was blurry. The only clear image in her mind was Charbel’s closed eyes and bleeding holes where his ears used to be.

  “Where’s the damn king?!” she shrieked again.

  There were guards gathering around to seize the raging woman. William tried to stop them, but he was outnumbered by ten guards who got hold of her arms and finally sedated her with one click of their digital sedater. Charlotte and Mathew appeared between the crowd of kingdom employees and residents. They were the last people Riley could see between her tears before she collapsed.

  A smell of sweat and dew crept in her senses. One droplet of water from the wet ceiling fell over her brow and slid down to her dry mouth. Riley opened her eyes to the darkness engulfing her. She was lying on the cold ground of what seemed like a square empty black room. Her legs trembled, her muscles tickled her. When she went to the only light that came through the small door, she noticed that it was protected by large bars. Disgust twisted her stomach when she touched it and felt the dry bloodstains on the rusty iron.

  She was in prison. She was held in the spiral tower underneath to the kingdom. She could see she was at the bottom of the cylinder.

  “No… No…” She looked around. There was no window and there was no way out.

  Riley tapped on the door.

  “I need to speak to the king! He will not stand for this,” she kept screaming and repeating but her voice could not be heard. An invisible insulator field shielded her voice and none of the prisoners heard, nor the guards.

  She kept tapping and screaming to no avail.

  Riley finally turned her back to the door and slid down to rest. Despair was beginning to settle at the back of her mind when the door suddenly opened and she landed on her back. Around her were two guards who looked down at her tear-stained face and sniggered.

  “Get up,” one of them said in a rough voice.

  As she was struggling to stand up, the other silent one clutched her under her arms like a toddler and pulled her up.

  Reflexively, she pushed him away.

  “I can walk,” she said in a ragged voice.

  “Apparently,” the first one sneered again and they led her out.

  Riley did not speak, but she was wondering all the while why they had released her.

  Her questions were answered when she was led out into the Royal Garden to the one who had requested her leave.

  “Hello, beautiful.” King Jonathan stood in his royal blue tux, the royal sigil printed on his left pocket in gold.

  Riley swallowed.

  Jonathan beckoned for the guards to leave her. He did not look angry nor amused, but Riley was crushed enough not to care if he was to whip her.

  “I heard you caused a commotion in the castle a few hours ago.”

  “You heard right.”

  “You do realize the guards who took you were beheaded a few minutes after you were caught,” he sa
id in a rather informative tone.

  Riley looked up into his eyes. She could no longer see the burning passion in them. They were as dead as her parents’ eyes when she found their corpses by their house.

  “What?”

  “Can we take a walk, my love?” He touched her arm but reflexively she shivered away.

  “I can’t walk. And I don’t want to get away from the castle with you.”

  “I will not hurt you, Riley.” Suddenly Jonathan frowned.

  “I—”

  “Come on.”

  Before she could say another word, Jonathan swept her off her feet and carried her to his Flyd. Riley wanted to get away from him, to jump down, but she was drained from energy and Jonathan’s arms were strong enough to keep her in place.

  “There you go,” he whispered as he placed her in the passenger seat of his flying vehicle and jumped into the driver’s seat.

  Seconds later, Riley was flying over Civilus and out to the borders where the sea caressed the sand in soothing small waves. It was dead cold outside, but she felt nothing with the heating rage swimming through her.

  After Jonathan landed on the shore, Riley stepped out, finally finding a bit of strength in her wobbly legs.

  Strange how soothing she found the moon to be at her darkest hours, but now it was nothing but a large dot in the sky, illuminating the endless sins of her lover.

  “Can you say anything, now?”

  Riley was struggling to formulate words but all she was able to let out were mutters.

  “I can’t understand how I upset you.” Jonathan helped her sit on a rock where the moving water was a few inches away from her feet. “I wanted to have a nice dinner in one of my private skylines. But I come after a meeting and find you thrown inside a dungeon.”

  “A meeting on how to put down men who fought for what they believed in?” She finally found the strength to retort.

  Jonathan’s look turned from a stare to a glare.

  “This is a duty for the king to put some effort in destroying those who are trying to destroy him.”