Checkpoint 1313 Prompt Submission for Ironage Media: The Annexation M.C. Deltat
An ornate horse-driven carriage rode through skid row heading for Checkpoint 1313. Its flamboyant and expensive detailing implied a certain opulence, one not mirrored by the filthy garbage strewn backstreets it currently rode through. Yet inside this carriage was not royalty. In fact, after the revolution, one would be hard-pressed to find royalty anywhere in the nation, let alone in the city. The Queen was the only one to survive the purges, and even that had been as a mere political prisoner. The once mistress of the land had even been stripped of her name, only to be referred to as The Dowager. However, while the new ruling class had been content to keep her alive for the past five years, things changed. She was no longer alive.
About a month ago, The Queen had tried to commit an act of terrorism, a massive bomb that would have slain every single person in the capital palace. The man sitting in the carriage was the one who had prevented the threat by putting a bullet in her head. He was a Judge, a field inquisitor with the ability to identify crimes and implement punishment. He had a calm look upon his face as he alternated between looking out the window and the fair-skinned lady sitting across from him..
“Gilford,” the woman asked, “Am I going to die?” She had been a lady-in-waiting to the late Queen. When the revolution ended, she was one of three maids that had been allowed to continue serving The Dowager. She had been the most trusted, and the one to reveal the queen’s plot to the Judge.
Gilford, the Judge, bobbed his head back and forth as he considered the question. “Hmmm, probably not.” He eventually answered. He took a moment to inspect the lady-in-waiting, specifically her clothing. She wore a hunting jacket over an expensive, yet visually plain, gown; it was almost exactly what the Queen had been known to wear. “Marissa,” He eventually added. “If you say your lines, and play your role well, everything should be fine.”
Marissa nodded, but it was clear she was still nervous. She had thought death would come for her after betraying the Queen, but evidently Gilford still had uses for her. And the worst thing about that? Seeing as she was currently disguised as the Queen, she had a pretty good idea of what that use was. The whole situation was driving her crazy. It was all she could do to stop sweat from forming; She had been promised death if she ruined the makeup on her face, and she wasn’t sure if that was an empty threat or not.
“It’s such a shame you know,” Gilford spoke absentmindedly, still gazing out of the window. “It's been 5 years and there are still such filthy places. I know there is a process to such things, but you would assume that the capital would be able to get things moving. Honestly, if I squint, this might even be worse than before.”
Without thought, Marissa responded. “Different management, same issue.” She explained. “Finding the resources to fix certain problems can be difficult, finding the care to fix said problems can be impossible.”
There was an awkward pause in the air as Marissa’s hand covered her mouth once she realized that she had just insulted the new regime in front of a Judge. Gilford meanwhile, faced Marissa, a stern look in his eye. “Just what are you saying?”
At first, Marissa didn’t want to respond, but the silent stare from Gilford proved just as painful as whatever judgment he may render. At least in this case, he literally asked for it. “I am just saying power changes your frame of reference. Once you have a taste of issues on the scale of running a country, some poor block doesn't matter as much.” She explained.
For a moment, Gilford considered Marissa’s words. A few seconds later, he responded. “So, you are saying that the council is no better than the royals they replaced?”
“Just something to consider.” Marissa squeaked out before forcefully turning her gaze back towards the window at her side.
Gilford did try to consider the thought, but he quickly discarded it. In no small part due to the firmness of his own resolve, but mostly due to how loud it had become outside the carriage. With a hand, he knocked at the carriage walls to signal the coachman. “What is going on outside,” he asked.
“I apologize Judge Gilford, but there is a crowd of people blocking us from getting past the checkpoint.” the man explained. “I am quite unsure how I should respond to this; they have basically blocked off the entire street.”
“WE WANT TO SEE THE QUEEN!” The shouts were audible even in the carriage. “RETURN THE QUEEN TO THE ROYAL THRONE!” They chanted.
“Why do they even bother?” Gilford sighed. “What was it about that old crone which inspired so much love?” He spoke out loud. “Not a single other noble had this much outcry.”
“You offered change.” Marissa knew the question was rhetorical, but she answered anyway. “A glorious path in which progress would sweep away the stagnant past.” Her fingers nervously tapped at her kneecaps as she watched the mob of people outside. “The Queen represented what was once known and accepted. A horror you are used to is far easier to stomach than a brave new world with questions and uncertainties.”
Abruptly, Gilford stood up. “We offered absolution. A future led by the people instead of a tyrant.”
Marissa watched as Gilford unlocked the carriage’s exit. “And people are stupid.”
“THE COUNCIL IS CORRUPT!” The shouting continued. “LONG LIVE THE QUEEN.” The carriage began to rock erratically as the mob laid their hands against it.
“It’s time to go to work, Marissa.” Gilford ordered. He held out one hand to the disguised lady-in-waiting, as he grabbed a pistol with his other. “Remember, my role demands just as much risk as yours. Both our paths were decided the moment you turned on your Queen.”
Marissa reached out to Gilford’s hand and nodded. He pulled her up and put her right in front of him. ‘I hope the disguise is convincing,’ she thought as Gilford slammed the door open.
“It’s the Queen!” The crowd cheered the moment they saw her. Marissa watched joy erupt in their eyes. Grins grew wide as the people cheered upon seeing the last monarch of the nation. It was strange. If Marissa had to describe the tone of the mob, they acted as if a long last parent had finally reappeared after having disappeared. They were all so distracted by the apparent facade of the Queen, none noticed the gun that had snuck its way above her shoulder.
They did hear as the pistol fired a bullet into the ground, erupting in a cloud of dirt and smoke. Almost immediately, the crowd went dead silent. While she had been expecting something attention grabbing, Marissa almost fell out of the carriage due to the shockwave. Fortunately, Gifford, while roughly manhandling her, had given her the support needed to recover somewhat. She didn’t get much time though, as he soon marched her towards the gallows.
‘Wait what?’ Marissa thought. ‘I thought he said I would live.’ To Mariass’s relief however, Gilford didn't wrap a rope around her neck. Instead, he merely marched them to the center of the platform, facing the people. Giflord was a good deal taller than her, so even though he stood behind her, he had a clear sight of the mob.
“Are you all here for her?” Gilfrod asked. His gaze scanned across the entire crowd, many of them still frozen in shock. No one responded to him. Annoyed, he kicked out Marissa’s knees causing her to collapse to the ground. “ARE YOU HERE FOR HER!” He shouted even louder. Some gasps arose at the flagrant disrespect towards the women they believed to be their queen, yet the closest he got to an answer were some vague nods. Still, no one dared to speak an answer.
Fury building in Gilford, he grabbed Marissa’s hair and pulled her head up. “WHAT DO YOU SEE IN THIS WOMAN?” he screamed. “WHY DO YOU ALL STILL CLING SO HEAVILY TO YOUR FAITH IN THIS OLD CRONE. SHE STANDS FOR EVERYTHING THE NEW REPUBLIC WANTS TO FIX.”
Again, silence.
“I WANT ANSWERS!” He roared.
Still nothing.
“YOU ARE ALL HERE FOR SOMETHING NO? WAS IT ALL BY CHANCE THAT YOU CONGREGATED HERE?” Gilford marched past Marissa to the front of the gallows. He scanned over the mob before his gaze settled on a child. He pointed his gun at him. Those who saw gasped, yet strangely enough the boy was stone faced.
How could he? He had never seen a gun before. He didn’t know what they meant.
“Boy?” Gilford asked. “What is your name?”
“Evin.” He answered. There were gaps in-between his teeth. He didn’t know that he was in danger, but the reactions of the adults near him had clued him in.
“Why are you here?” Gilford continued.
Evin puffed up his chest and grinned. “For the honor and memory of the Queen.” Once he finished, he looked at the people around him hoping for praise. What he had said was clearly a pre-prepared line given to him by someone and it seems that he wanted compliments for saying it correctly.
Despite his anger, a sigh barely sneaked its way out of Gilford. “How old are you, Evin? When were you born?” He lowered the gun as his face softened somewhat at the antics of a literal child.
Evidently, that was a question the kid wasn’t prepared for. Immediately, his posture dropped and an eyebrow went up in thought. His eyes went to his fingers for a moment, but he resisted the urge. He was only able to maintain the facade for a few seconds before he brought them up and began counting his age out. “Four!” He cheered.
“You were born a year after the revolution.” Gilford replied. “You have no memory of what life was before, why do you care?” Gilford looked for any adults near the boy, ones that were attempting to sneak away.
“Uhhh” Evin stumbled. Without meaning too, he looked at the man standing to his right. His face was similar enough to his son, except for one difference: his face was drowning in anxiety and sweat and oil. The man had not been expecting to be called out so publicly, and more importantly, to a Judge.
Gilford pointed the gun at the man. “So then, why are you here?” He asked. “Any goal beyond filling the child’s mind with lies?”
He opened his mouth to respond only for his words to betray him. He coughed for a while, trying to find his voice. Panic had consumed his mind, so much so that when he finally responded, it proved to be lacking. “For the honor and memory of the Queen.” he stuttered. For what it was worth, he did try to maintain a stern face, meeting Gilford’s gaze, but the erratic eye movement gave the fear away.
Gilford’s head bobbed as he considered the answer. He breathed deeply as he struggled to not explode. “So that is the best you have? A child’s response?” He asked. He failed to resist the urge. “JUST WHAT DO YOU ALL SEE?” He yelled again. “IS IT HOPE OR PROGRESS OR PRIDE?” He waved his gaze and pistol across the entire mob. “LIES! ALL OF THEM.”
“DIgnity” A firm voice finally replied. The raggedness of the voice cut through the crowd. Gilford found the source of the voice immediately, although the circle of empty space that appeared around the person made it easier. It was an old lady, one in the twilight of her life.
“Birds of a feather, I suppose.” Gilford chuckled. “I suppose one old crone would defend another.”
If the insults bothered the old lady, her face didn’t show it. Instead, the air about her grew even more sanctimonious. “We were a respectable nation with the former King and Queen.” She began. “One with true power and influence on the international stage. Now, we are led by children playing pretend; consumed by their schoolyard squabbles and grudges.”
If for nothing else, Gilford was happy to at least get an answer. He rubbed his forehead with his pistol. “That is the nature of democracy unfortunately.” He replied. “The cost of being for the people is that you are by the people, even with all our worst tendencies and desires. The best path will only be found through compromise and temperance.”
“The tyranny of the majority is not better than the tyranny of the minority.” The old lady said. “Horrors inflicted at the purview of the mob are no less sinful than if they were caused by one man.” She began to walk forward. The crowd immediately parted in-between the woman and Gilford.
“What is your name?” Gilford watched as the lady approached him. He sat down on the edge of the gallows, hoping to match her eye’s elevation while still having the upper ground.
“Hannah.” She answered.
“Hannah,” Gilford continued. “Do you not like how your local government works?” He asked rhetorically. “Good news, you can change that; Join your local council. Implement the change you want to see.”
“And how did you get your job as Judge” Hannah asked. She had finished her approach at this point. “You know as I do, normal people can not win. Whether by chance or by human intervention, I have seen no layman ever win. Those who win are mere lies, men and women that have been given their positions. They are puppets, only slightly better than a dog begging for treats. With the King and Queen, their decisions were all their own.
Gilford poked Hannah’s chest. “You look fairly old, crone. I am sure you lived through the King and Queen’s reign, just as I have.” He nodded. “Their independent decisions are why we overthrow them. I saw as their petty choices and whims shaped the nation,” he bobbed his head, “Sometimes for the better, but just as often for the worse. It was far from the holistic and self-assured kingdom you imply.”
“The result was the same either way.” Hannah replied, batting Gilford’s finger away. “They led us to prosperity, far more than what the council” She growled the word as she said it “has done in the past 5 years. See, a person whose only concern is re-election will lack the willpower to make necessary choices. Instead, they will be guided entirely by whatever bribes they need to lock down support.”
“Cause that is so much better than being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night for voicing dissent.” Gilford’s eyes narrowed.
Hannah’s arms went on her hips. “I’m sorry, what are you doing right now? I don’t suppose that is a fake gun you have been pointing at us the entire time?”
“Difference is that I have the respect to do it in the middle of the day, in full view of a crowd.”
“I suppose you think that makes it better.”
“Yes, it does.”
The crowd was dead silent, as everyone hesitated to make a single noise. They merely stared at the lady and man, the old and new, staring each other down. But then, a voice no one had expected to talk, cut through the tension.
“I did what I thought was the best for all of us.” Marissa said. Ignoring the King, she had spent the most amount of time with the late queen. Due to that experience, the voice was a perfect match. “For better or for worse, that was always my guiding principle.”
Gilford exploded up from his seated position. He launched himself back to Marissa, kicking her further to the ground. Staring at the lady holding herself up on all fours, Gilford seethed, “I didn’t say you could speak Dowager. Still yourself.”
“You said the nation is for the people.” Hannah pointed at the prostrated queen and shouted. “Last I checked, she still counts as people, even if you refuse to admit it.”
“YOUR LIVES WERE AWFUL UNDER HER.” Gilrford roared. “CONSTANT LACK OF FOOD AND WATER, EVERYTHING WAS FILTHY.”
Hannah’s hands shot out to her sides, as quickly as her old body would allow. “Look around. Even five years on, it's still the same.”
“You will find that it's far easier to burn a house down than it is to raise one up from the ashes.” He pulled Marissa back to her knees before putting his gun to her head. “But if you are all so blinded on what was, then I should do you all a favor at this moment.” He charged the gun, putting a bullet in the chamber. “You all have the power to affect your future in the new reign. Yet you do nothing, being merely content to sit and whine. You make no effort to fix your home, only whining that change is scary.” He paused to deeply breathe in. “Five years later, I will help you finally take your first step into the future.”
The crack caused by a single bullet echoed against the nearby buildings. The mob cried out in fear, but strangely enough the wrong body collapsed.
Gilford crashed into the wooden floor of the gallows, blood leaking out from his uniform, right in-front of Marissa. Her eyes went wide as the severity of what had just happened occurred to her. Gilford was dead and she was free. Who had down it? She looked at the mob, not quite as rowdy since she was alive, but the death had still startled them. It couldn’t have been them… could it? ‘Forget it. ‘Now or never’ Marissa thought. “I can make this right.” She stood up and collected all her strength. “THANK YOU TO WHOMEVER SAVED MY LIFE!” she shouted.
The crowd settled down a bit upon hearing the fake-Queen’s voice. All the attention was on her.
‘Don’t panic, don’t panic.’ The thought echoed in her mind. She walked to the front, close to where Hannah was still standing. She held a hand over her chest as she desperately tried to calm her breathing. “I am honored by your words, my lady, but I must confess to you that I am not the queen you remember.”
Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say if Marissa’s goal was to calm her down. “My Queen,” Hannah gasped. “Please… I am not… Please do not refer to me as an equal.” She begged.
Marissa could see that Hannah was about to bow. Before she could, Marisaa ripped off her wig and rubbed the makeup off her face.”I am not the queen. I am Marissa, her Lady-in-waiting.”
A gasp rocked the crowd.
“You remember the Queen fondly,” Marissa trekked onwards, “I appreciate that, how much you appreciated my lady.” She put her hands behind her to hide how much they shook. “But it would be disrespectful to her memory as a leader and as a person to not tell you the truth.”
Marissa began to pace back and forth across the gallows. She made an effort to meet the eyes of every single person there, at least once, as she spoke. This was perhaps the most important thing she had ever done in her life. She swallowed a few times, doing her best to clear her voice.
“The Queen was flawed.” She spoke. “That much is a fact. I saw more of her than perhaps any living person. She had very little personal restraint, and she was prideful; a dangerous combination. Many innocents spent nights in the dungeon for nothing more than wayward comments.” Marissa nervously looked at the mob, to see if everyone was paying attention. They were. “She hit me.” She stammered out, admitting a dark truth. “In fact, she hit most of the servants at one point or another. She had a dark side, one that has to be faced and condemned.”
The crowd began to mumble, at a volume barely louder than a breeze. Some of the people stayed, waiting to hear what Marissa had to say, while others slowly began to leave.
“BUT!” Marissa screamed. “But despite all those flaws, I can say from the absolute bottom of my heart, she did love the nation. In the long run, her decisions were made solely to help us all.”
She was losing them. The crowd was losing interest.
“I was with her the day her son was captured. I watched her break down as she refused to send a ransom. It was a privilege no citizen would get, so why should she?” Marissa balled her hands up. “I only heard her tears when his head, only his head, was sent back.” She paused. “I watched as the Queen sold her daughters to arranged marriages to ensure protection against the Liren hordes.”
Tears had finally begun to form on her face. “The queen drowned herself in vices to crush the sorrow caused by the choices she made for prosperity. And while it may be easy for you to disagree, living in the conditions you do… were you not fed? Were you not entertained? Did you not have access to jobs and clothes and safety? I guarantee however bleak you perceived your existence under her, things are far worse now”
Everyone was staring fiercely at her now. Their faces were impassioned, eyes unclouded by hate.
“You were promised choice and access?” Marissa asked. “Where is it?” She ceased pacing. “You are trapped in debt and subservience? You will never be able to rise above your station, nor does anyone care to help. The council will do the bare minimum for votes, and nothing further. After all, if they fixed problems, what would they platform on? No, they will issue false promises while only delivering lies and excuses. You will never again know prosperity.”
Marisaa looked at the crowd. In but a single glance, she could tell what was on their minds; it was all the same question. “What can we do?”
“But…” Marissa began to answer. “But you can bring it back. You could return the country to how it used to be?”
“How?” Someone finally grew the nerve to speak.
“The queen may be gone, but her children and her children’s children are still alive. We beg them to return, to take back the throne.”
“Would the council allow that?” Another curious, yet hopeful, voice asked.
“There is no allowing.” Marissa scoffed. “If they are for the people, then they will listen to the people. We must form such a wall of sound that there is no possible way to ignore the message.” She pointed at the capitol building, away in the distance. “Go before them and demand it.”
That seemed a step too far. The people’s courage drained away upon hearing that. Gilford was right in at least once aspect; complaining was far easier than doing. Complaining dulled the pain, allowing one to stomach each new day.
“The world you grew up in is gone. If you allow the desolation of your heritage, you will only grow old as you witness horrors beyond your comprehension.” Marisa paused before adding. “Never forget what they took from you.”
“WE NEED WEAPONS!” One man screamed.
“I HAVE A FEW FRIENDS ON THE INSIDE.” Another screamed. “I CAN GET US THE GUARD ROTATIONS.”
“I HAVE THE KEY TO THE GRANARIES” yet a third voice added. “WE MAY NEED SUPPLIES FOR A SIEGE.”
The crowd exploded in exaltation, as the men and women felt hope for the first time in a long time. They could see a path to bring the nation back to how they felt it should run. However, in the midst of all the planning, something cut right through the cheers.
It was a single man whistling. It sounded loud and sharp and piercing. Immediately, everyone stopped talking as they looked towards the source:Gilford. He was still alive.
“I’ve heard enough.” He slowly stood up, the crowd was completely paralyzed in terror. “Under penal code 61008291, I declare you all guilty of conspiracy to commit insurrection.” Once standing, he walked right to the front, past Marissa. “With my authority as Judge, I declare none of you qualify for a second hearing or parole.”
“Are you planning on arresting us all? Hannah asked.
“No.” Gilford answered. “No arrests will be happening today.” His hand snapped. Immediately, hordes of guardsmen appeared; some popped up on the roofs, some charged down the road, and some crept in from the alleys. They were all incredibly armored and incredibly armed, with rifles at the ready.
Gilford turned away from the crowd and walked back to Marissa. “You went off script, but given the result, I suppose it's a distinction without a difference.”
“How… How are you alive?” Marissa squeaked.
A grin appeared on Gilford’s face. “Fake wound.” He smirked as he wrapped a hand around Marissa’s waist. “Now let's go, we still have work to do.”
Downtrodden, Marisssa didn’t resist as she was forced back in the carriage. She stepped in first, with Giflord right behind her. The moment before he closed the door however, he signaled his men.
A cacophony of gunfire erupted at Checkpoint 1313 that afternoon, and there was never enough rain to wash away all the blood.
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Checkpoint 1313
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Checkpoint 1313
Prompt Submission for Ironage Media: The Annexation
M.C. Deltat
An ornate horse-driven carriage rode through skid row heading for Checkpoint 1313. Its flamboyant and expensive detailing implied a certain opulence, one not mirrored by the filthy garbage strewn backstreets it currently rode through. Yet inside this carriage was not royalty. In fact, after the revolution, one would be hard-pressed to find royalty anywhere in the nation, let alone in the city. The Queen was the only one to survive the purges, and even that had been as a mere political prisoner. The once mistress of the land had even been stripped of her name, only to be referred to as The Dowager. However, while the new ruling class had been content to keep her alive for the past five years, things changed. She was no longer alive.
About a month ago, The Queen had tried to commit an act of terrorism, a massive bomb that would have slain every single person in the capital palace. The man sitting in the carriage was the one who had prevented the threat by putting a bullet in her head. He was a Judge, a field inquisitor with the ability to identify crimes and implement punishment. He had a calm look upon his face as he alternated between looking out the window and the fair-skinned lady sitting across from him..
“Gilford,” the woman asked, “Am I going to die?” She had been a lady-in-waiting to the late Queen. When the revolution ended, she was one of three maids that had been allowed to continue serving The Dowager. She had been the most trusted, and the one to reveal the queen’s plot to the Judge.
Gilford, the Judge, bobbed his head back and forth as he considered the question. “Hmmm, probably not.” He eventually answered. He took a moment to inspect the lady-in-waiting, specifically her clothing. She wore a hunting jacket over an expensive, yet visually plain, gown; it was almost exactly what the Queen had been known to wear. “Marissa,” He eventually added. “If you say your lines, and play your role well, everything should be fine.”
Marissa nodded, but it was clear she was still nervous. She had thought death would come for her after betraying the Queen, but evidently Gilford still had uses for her. And the worst thing about that? Seeing as she was currently disguised as the Queen, she had a pretty good idea of what that use was. The whole situation was driving her crazy. It was all she could do to stop sweat from forming; She had been promised death if she ruined the makeup on her face, and she wasn’t sure if that was an empty threat or not.
“It’s such a shame you know,” Gilford spoke absentmindedly, still gazing out of the window. “It's been 5 years and there are still such filthy places. I know there is a process to such things, but you would assume that the capital would be able to get things moving. Honestly, if I squint, this might even be worse than before.”
Without thought, Marissa responded. “Different management, same issue.” She explained. “Finding the resources to fix certain problems can be difficult, finding the care to fix said problems can be impossible.”
There was an awkward pause in the air as Marissa’s hand covered her mouth once she realized that she had just insulted the new regime in front of a Judge. Gilford meanwhile, faced Marissa, a stern look in his eye. “Just what are you saying?”
At first, Marissa didn’t want to respond, but the silent stare from Gilford proved just as painful as whatever judgment he may render. At least in this case, he literally asked for it. “I am just saying power changes your frame of reference. Once you have a taste of issues on the scale of running a country, some poor block doesn't matter as much.” She explained.
For a moment, Gilford considered Marissa’s words. A few seconds later, he responded. “So, you are saying that the council is no better than the royals they replaced?”
“Just something to consider.” Marissa squeaked out before forcefully turning her gaze back towards the window at her side.
Gilford did try to consider the thought, but he quickly discarded it. In no small part due to the firmness of his own resolve, but mostly due to how loud it had become outside the carriage. With a hand, he knocked at the carriage walls to signal the coachman. “What is going on outside,” he asked.
“I apologize Judge Gilford, but there is a crowd of people blocking us from getting past the checkpoint.” the man explained. “I am quite unsure how I should respond to this; they have basically blocked off the entire street.”
“WE WANT TO SEE THE QUEEN!” The shouts were audible even in the carriage. “RETURN THE QUEEN TO THE ROYAL THRONE!” They chanted.
“Why do they even bother?” Gilford sighed. “What was it about that old crone which inspired so much love?” He spoke out loud. “Not a single other noble had this much outcry.”
“You offered change.” Marissa knew the question was rhetorical, but she answered anyway. “A glorious path in which progress would sweep away the stagnant past.” Her fingers nervously tapped at her kneecaps as she watched the mob of people outside. “The Queen represented what was once known and accepted. A horror you are used to is far easier to stomach than a brave new world with questions and uncertainties.”
Abruptly, Gilford stood up. “We offered absolution. A future led by the people instead of a tyrant.”
Marissa watched as Gilford unlocked the carriage’s exit. “And people are stupid.”
“THE COUNCIL IS CORRUPT!” The shouting continued. “LONG LIVE THE QUEEN.” The carriage began to rock erratically as the mob laid their hands against it.
“It’s time to go to work, Marissa.” Gilford ordered. He held out one hand to the disguised lady-in-waiting, as he grabbed a pistol with his other. “Remember, my role demands just as much risk as yours. Both our paths were decided the moment you turned on your Queen.”
Marissa reached out to Gilford’s hand and nodded. He pulled her up and put her right in front of him. ‘I hope the disguise is convincing,’ she thought as Gilford slammed the door open.
“It’s the Queen!” The crowd cheered the moment they saw her. Marissa watched joy erupt in their eyes. Grins grew wide as the people cheered upon seeing the last monarch of the nation. It was strange. If Marissa had to describe the tone of the mob, they acted as if a long last parent had finally reappeared after having disappeared. They were all so distracted by the apparent facade of the Queen, none noticed the gun that had snuck its way above her shoulder.
They did hear as the pistol fired a bullet into the ground, erupting in a cloud of dirt and smoke. Almost immediately, the crowd went dead silent. While she had been expecting something attention grabbing, Marissa almost fell out of the carriage due to the shockwave. Fortunately, Gifford, while roughly manhandling her, had given her the support needed to recover somewhat. She didn’t get much time though, as he soon marched her towards the gallows.
‘Wait what?’ Marissa thought. ‘I thought he said I would live.’ To Mariass’s relief however, Gilford didn't wrap a rope around her neck. Instead, he merely marched them to the center of the platform, facing the people. Giflord was a good deal taller than her, so even though he stood behind her, he had a clear sight of the mob.
“Are you all here for her?” Gilfrod asked. His gaze scanned across the entire crowd, many of them still frozen in shock. No one responded to him. Annoyed, he kicked out Marissa’s knees causing her to collapse to the ground. “ARE YOU HERE FOR HER!” He shouted even louder. Some gasps arose at the flagrant disrespect towards the women they believed to be their queen, yet the closest he got to an answer were some vague nods. Still, no one dared to speak an answer.
Fury building in Gilford, he grabbed Marissa’s hair and pulled her head up. “WHAT DO YOU SEE IN THIS WOMAN?” he screamed. “WHY DO YOU ALL STILL CLING SO HEAVILY TO YOUR FAITH IN THIS OLD CRONE. SHE STANDS FOR EVERYTHING THE NEW REPUBLIC WANTS TO FIX.”
Again, silence.
“I WANT ANSWERS!” He roared.
Still nothing.
“YOU ARE ALL HERE FOR SOMETHING NO? WAS IT ALL BY CHANCE THAT YOU CONGREGATED HERE?” Gilford marched past Marissa to the front of the gallows. He scanned over the mob before his gaze settled on a child. He pointed his gun at him. Those who saw gasped, yet strangely enough the boy was stone faced.
How could he? He had never seen a gun before. He didn’t know what they meant.
“Boy?” Gilford asked. “What is your name?”
“Evin.” He answered. There were gaps in-between his teeth. He didn’t know that he was in danger, but the reactions of the adults near him had clued him in.
“Why are you here?” Gilford continued.
Evin puffed up his chest and grinned. “For the honor and memory of the Queen.” Once he finished, he looked at the people around him hoping for praise. What he had said was clearly a pre-prepared line given to him by someone and it seems that he wanted compliments for saying it correctly.
Despite his anger, a sigh barely sneaked its way out of Gilford. “How old are you, Evin? When were you born?” He lowered the gun as his face softened somewhat at the antics of a literal child.
Evidently, that was a question the kid wasn’t prepared for. Immediately, his posture dropped and an eyebrow went up in thought. His eyes went to his fingers for a moment, but he resisted the urge. He was only able to maintain the facade for a few seconds before he brought them up and began counting his age out. “Four!” He cheered.
“You were born a year after the revolution.” Gilford replied. “You have no memory of what life was before, why do you care?” Gilford looked for any adults near the boy, ones that were attempting to sneak away.
“Uhhh” Evin stumbled. Without meaning too, he looked at the man standing to his right. His face was similar enough to his son, except for one difference: his face was drowning in anxiety and sweat and oil. The man had not been expecting to be called out so publicly, and more importantly, to a Judge.
Gilford pointed the gun at the man. “So then, why are you here?” He asked. “Any goal beyond filling the child’s mind with lies?”
He opened his mouth to respond only for his words to betray him. He coughed for a while, trying to find his voice. Panic had consumed his mind, so much so that when he finally responded, it proved to be lacking. “For the honor and memory of the Queen.” he stuttered. For what it was worth, he did try to maintain a stern face, meeting Gilford’s gaze, but the erratic eye movement gave the fear away.
Gilford’s head bobbed as he considered the answer. He breathed deeply as he struggled to not explode. “So that is the best you have? A child’s response?” He asked. He failed to resist the urge. “JUST WHAT DO YOU ALL SEE?” He yelled again. “IS IT HOPE OR PROGRESS OR PRIDE?” He waved his gaze and pistol across the entire mob. “LIES! ALL OF THEM.”
“DIgnity” A firm voice finally replied. The raggedness of the voice cut through the crowd. Gilford found the source of the voice immediately, although the circle of empty space that appeared around the person made it easier. It was an old lady, one in the twilight of her life.
“Birds of a feather, I suppose.” Gilford chuckled. “I suppose one old crone would defend another.”
If the insults bothered the old lady, her face didn’t show it. Instead, the air about her grew even more sanctimonious. “We were a respectable nation with the former King and Queen.” She began. “One with true power and influence on the international stage. Now, we are led by children playing pretend; consumed by their schoolyard squabbles and grudges.”
If for nothing else, Gilford was happy to at least get an answer. He rubbed his forehead with his pistol. “That is the nature of democracy unfortunately.” He replied. “The cost of being for the people is that you are by the people, even with all our worst tendencies and desires. The best path will only be found through compromise and temperance.”
“The tyranny of the majority is not better than the tyranny of the minority.” The old lady said. “Horrors inflicted at the purview of the mob are no less sinful than if they were caused by one man.” She began to walk forward. The crowd immediately parted in-between the woman and Gilford.
“What is your name?” Gilford watched as the lady approached him. He sat down on the edge of the gallows, hoping to match her eye’s elevation while still having the upper ground.
“Hannah.” She answered.
“Hannah,” Gilford continued. “Do you not like how your local government works?” He asked rhetorically. “Good news, you can change that; Join your local council. Implement the change you want to see.”
“And how did you get your job as Judge” Hannah asked. She had finished her approach at this point. “You know as I do, normal people can not win. Whether by chance or by human intervention, I have seen no layman ever win. Those who win are mere lies, men and women that have been given their positions. They are puppets, only slightly better than a dog begging for treats. With the King and Queen, their decisions were all their own.
Gilford poked Hannah’s chest. “You look fairly old, crone. I am sure you lived through the King and Queen’s reign, just as I have.” He nodded. “Their independent decisions are why we overthrow them. I saw as their petty choices and whims shaped the nation,” he bobbed his head, “Sometimes for the better, but just as often for the worse. It was far from the holistic and self-assured kingdom you imply.”
“The result was the same either way.” Hannah replied, batting Gilford’s finger away. “They led us to prosperity, far more than what the council” She growled the word as she said it “has done in the past 5 years. See, a person whose only concern is re-election will lack the willpower to make necessary choices. Instead, they will be guided entirely by whatever bribes they need to lock down support.”
“Cause that is so much better than being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night for voicing dissent.” Gilford’s eyes narrowed.
Hannah’s arms went on her hips. “I’m sorry, what are you doing right now? I don’t suppose that is a fake gun you have been pointing at us the entire time?”
“Difference is that I have the respect to do it in the middle of the day, in full view of a crowd.”
“I suppose you think that makes it better.”
“Yes, it does.”
The crowd was dead silent, as everyone hesitated to make a single noise. They merely stared at the lady and man, the old and new, staring each other down. But then, a voice no one had expected to talk, cut through the tension.
“I did what I thought was the best for all of us.” Marissa said. Ignoring the King, she had spent the most amount of time with the late queen. Due to that experience, the voice was a perfect match. “For better or for worse, that was always my guiding principle.”
Gilford exploded up from his seated position. He launched himself back to Marissa, kicking her further to the ground. Staring at the lady holding herself up on all fours, Gilford seethed, “I didn’t say you could speak Dowager. Still yourself.”
“You said the nation is for the people.” Hannah pointed at the prostrated queen and shouted. “Last I checked, she still counts as people, even if you refuse to admit it.”
“YOUR LIVES WERE AWFUL UNDER HER.” Gilrford roared. “CONSTANT LACK OF FOOD AND WATER, EVERYTHING WAS FILTHY.”
Hannah’s hands shot out to her sides, as quickly as her old body would allow. “Look around. Even five years on, it's still the same.”
“You will find that it's far easier to burn a house down than it is to raise one up from the ashes.” He pulled Marissa back to her knees before putting his gun to her head. “But if you are all so blinded on what was, then I should do you all a favor at this moment.” He charged the gun, putting a bullet in the chamber. “You all have the power to affect your future in the new reign. Yet you do nothing, being merely content to sit and whine. You make no effort to fix your home, only whining that change is scary.” He paused to deeply breathe in. “Five years later, I will help you finally take your first step into the future.”
The crack caused by a single bullet echoed against the nearby buildings. The mob cried out in fear, but strangely enough the wrong body collapsed.
Gilford crashed into the wooden floor of the gallows, blood leaking out from his uniform, right in-front of Marissa. Her eyes went wide as the severity of what had just happened occurred to her. Gilford was dead and she was free. Who had down it? She looked at the mob, not quite as rowdy since she was alive, but the death had still startled them. It couldn’t have been them… could it? ‘Forget it. ‘Now or never’ Marissa thought. “I can make this right.” She stood up and collected all her strength. “THANK YOU TO WHOMEVER SAVED MY LIFE!” she shouted.
The crowd settled down a bit upon hearing the fake-Queen’s voice. All the attention was on her.
‘Don’t panic, don’t panic.’ The thought echoed in her mind. She walked to the front, close to where Hannah was still standing. She held a hand over her chest as she desperately tried to calm her breathing. “I am honored by your words, my lady, but I must confess to you that I am not the queen you remember.”
Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say if Marissa’s goal was to calm her down. “My Queen,” Hannah gasped. “Please… I am not… Please do not refer to me as an equal.” She begged.
Marissa could see that Hannah was about to bow. Before she could, Marisaa ripped off her wig and rubbed the makeup off her face.”I am not the queen. I am Marissa, her Lady-in-waiting.”
A gasp rocked the crowd.
“You remember the Queen fondly,” Marissa trekked onwards, “I appreciate that, how much you appreciated my lady.” She put her hands behind her to hide how much they shook. “But it would be disrespectful to her memory as a leader and as a person to not tell you the truth.”
Marissa began to pace back and forth across the gallows. She made an effort to meet the eyes of every single person there, at least once, as she spoke. This was perhaps the most important thing she had ever done in her life. She swallowed a few times, doing her best to clear her voice.
“The Queen was flawed.” She spoke. “That much is a fact. I saw more of her than perhaps any living person. She had very little personal restraint, and she was prideful; a dangerous combination. Many innocents spent nights in the dungeon for nothing more than wayward comments.” Marissa nervously looked at the mob, to see if everyone was paying attention. They were. “She hit me.” She stammered out, admitting a dark truth. “In fact, she hit most of the servants at one point or another. She had a dark side, one that has to be faced and condemned.”
The crowd began to mumble, at a volume barely louder than a breeze. Some of the people stayed, waiting to hear what Marissa had to say, while others slowly began to leave.
“BUT!” Marissa screamed. “But despite all those flaws, I can say from the absolute bottom of my heart, she did love the nation. In the long run, her decisions were made solely to help us all.”
She was losing them. The crowd was losing interest.
“I was with her the day her son was captured. I watched her break down as she refused to send a ransom. It was a privilege no citizen would get, so why should she?” Marissa balled her hands up. “I only heard her tears when his head, only his head, was sent back.” She paused. “I watched as the Queen sold her daughters to arranged marriages to ensure protection against the Liren hordes.”
Tears had finally begun to form on her face. “The queen drowned herself in vices to crush the sorrow caused by the choices she made for prosperity. And while it may be easy for you to disagree, living in the conditions you do… were you not fed? Were you not entertained? Did you not have access to jobs and clothes and safety? I guarantee however bleak you perceived your existence under her, things are far worse now”
Everyone was staring fiercely at her now. Their faces were impassioned, eyes unclouded by hate.
“You were promised choice and access?” Marissa asked. “Where is it?” She ceased pacing. “You are trapped in debt and subservience? You will never be able to rise above your station, nor does anyone care to help. The council will do the bare minimum for votes, and nothing further. After all, if they fixed problems, what would they platform on? No, they will issue false promises while only delivering lies and excuses. You will never again know prosperity.”
Marisaa looked at the crowd. In but a single glance, she could tell what was on their minds; it was all the same question. “What can we do?”
“But…” Marissa began to answer. “But you can bring it back. You could return the country to how it used to be?”
“How?” Someone finally grew the nerve to speak.
“The queen may be gone, but her children and her children’s children are still alive. We beg them to return, to take back the throne.”
“Would the council allow that?” Another curious, yet hopeful, voice asked.
“There is no allowing.” Marissa scoffed. “If they are for the people, then they will listen to the people. We must form such a wall of sound that there is no possible way to ignore the message.” She pointed at the capitol building, away in the distance. “Go before them and demand it.”
That seemed a step too far. The people’s courage drained away upon hearing that. Gilford was right in at least once aspect; complaining was far easier than doing. Complaining dulled the pain, allowing one to stomach each new day.
“The world you grew up in is gone. If you allow the desolation of your heritage, you will only grow old as you witness horrors beyond your comprehension.” Marisa paused before adding. “Never forget what they took from you.”
“WE NEED WEAPONS!” One man screamed.
“I HAVE A FEW FRIENDS ON THE INSIDE.” Another screamed. “I CAN GET US THE GUARD ROTATIONS.”
“I HAVE THE KEY TO THE GRANARIES” yet a third voice added. “WE MAY NEED SUPPLIES FOR A SIEGE.”
The crowd exploded in exaltation, as the men and women felt hope for the first time in a long time. They could see a path to bring the nation back to how they felt it should run. However, in the midst of all the planning, something cut right through the cheers.
It was a single man whistling. It sounded loud and sharp and piercing. Immediately, everyone stopped talking as they looked towards the source:Gilford. He was still alive.
“I’ve heard enough.” He slowly stood up, the crowd was completely paralyzed in terror. “Under penal code 61008291, I declare you all guilty of conspiracy to commit insurrection.” Once standing, he walked right to the front, past Marissa. “With my authority as Judge, I declare none of you qualify for a second hearing or parole.”
“Are you planning on arresting us all? Hannah asked.
“No.” Gilford answered. “No arrests will be happening today.” His hand snapped. Immediately, hordes of guardsmen appeared; some popped up on the roofs, some charged down the road, and some crept in from the alleys. They were all incredibly armored and incredibly armed, with rifles at the ready.
Gilford turned away from the crowd and walked back to Marissa. “You went off script, but given the result, I suppose it's a distinction without a difference.”
“How… How are you alive?” Marissa squeaked.
A grin appeared on Gilford’s face. “Fake wound.” He smirked as he wrapped a hand around Marissa’s waist. “Now let's go, we still have work to do.”
Downtrodden, Marisssa didn’t resist as she was forced back in the carriage. She stepped in first, with Giflord right behind her. The moment before he closed the door however, he signaled his men.
A cacophony of gunfire erupted at Checkpoint 1313 that afternoon, and there was never enough rain to wash away all the blood.