"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: November 645 AU
Location: ????
POV: Narrator.
Technicians, soldiers, and civilian workers are moving about near unch pads reserved for orbital satellites. Checks and updates were made while an engineer of higher ranking could be seen reclining over a railing. His gaze is focused on the rocket they had painstakingly developed and protected from the ravages of war.
“Oh, Mr. Ryswick! I had been searching for you.” The man looked back to see a colleague walking towards him with a stack of documents. He eyes them curiously before taking them into his hands when his colleague hands them over. The content made him shake his head, for the umpteenth time that day.
“This is the report for Her Grace, right?”
“The very same. Mrs. Costner looked like a zombie nowadays, judging by how long she had been cooped up inside her office. Rumors said that the Grand Autarch chewed her out so badly that she caught insomnia. Poor her.”
“Well, what can we do? I could swear that our team advised the director to be honest about the status.” Ryswick snorted with amusement but also pity before turning his head back to the rocket.
“I know she was excited, we all do, but to mix up the documentation? That won’t fly. Truly fortunate that she doesn’t get more than a warning.”
“Mhm, say… the Grand Autarch felt nicer yeah?”
“I don’t know, she looks the same way to me. Just more… hmm… understanding or something like that… Did you know she also chewed out a whole naval department when their dirty secret got out?”
“You mean the Floating Fortress Project?”
“Yeah, that incomprehensible money sink. I mean, I would too, so her anger was justified. What sort of drug did they consume that encouraged them to imagine and pn a 400m (about 1250ft) long battleship? Even crazier they want to install 4 turrets of double 56cm (22 inch) guns, enough anti-ship missiles and AA missiles to make it explode like a few kilotons of nuke, and 10-12 CIWS on it. Talk about lunacy and boredom.”
“Well… shouldn’t it be ok to do that during past time?”
“Sure, but they have done it when not on break instead of working on the next-gen destroyer. She did her, now starting to be a norm, surprise inspection and caught them when it hurt the most.” Ryswickleaned closer to whisper.
“I heard from personnel involved that the Grand Autarch was so shocked seeing the tempte her body swayed briefly.”
“For real? Was it so horrendous that she almost fainted?” They were about to continue their discussion when the intercom made an announcement.
[ALL PERSONNEL STAND CLEAR FROM THE LAUNCH PAD. WE ARE T-MINUS 5 BEFORE LAUNCH! I REPEAT-]
“Welp, that’s our cue.” Men and women start running towards their respective stations. Military personnel did the st-minute checks and sweeps to ensure no one tried to sabotage or endanger the surroundings. The Regalian Aerospace Research and Development’s Director has the honor to start the countdown.
[10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Launch!] 4 rocket-carrying satellites were unched into the stratosphere and higher. The observation and control room watched with bated breath until finally, they confirmed that the satellites had safely breached the atmosphere.
The control room and all affiliated personnel jumped in joy seeing the rockets succeed. Some of them had harbored fears that if anything were to happen, then it would disappoint the Grand Autarch. Seeing them now safely entrenched in the orbit is like a heavy weight lifted off their shoulders. Cheers, and some bottles were popped to celebrate this achievement in an alien world.
“Finally, we get to be the first!”
“Technically-”
“Yeah, yeah, you can keep your correction.”
“Thank god! I hate overtime, but it does feel worth the effort.”
“Good work folks, guess we could expect those extra rationing after all.”
“We might lost in Orneas but we’re the first here!”
“Hey, let those people in! We got to make history!”
[Alright everyone, we shall soon document the true face of this world. This is a new era for Regalia.] Everyone quieted down until the satellite feeds stabilized. This was the moment when this, tentatively, nameless world’s course of history was altered… severely.
Date: January 646 AU
A shot rang inside a secluded room beneath a mountain. The shot indicates that it was from some type of revolver and the confined space made it mistaken for a cannon being the culprit. The revolver’s target shows a rge hole, dead center, and the spent shrapnel embedded deep into the sand wall. 5 more such shots were fired, and each never strayed from its path.
“Interesting.” The shooter, now revealed to be the Grand Autarch herself, sports a bemused expression. She inspects her oversized revolver, more of a hand cannon, and only made slightly less ridiculous due to her above-average stature and ensemble.
‘I like this body… It doesn’t tremble as much every time I carry a firearm. God, how times had passed. Then this thing…’ This particur model was made just recently, back in the game she couldn’t do such a thing. There was a limit on what could be made and why, but here? Every restriction seems to vanish.
“Well, it never hurts to try…” She was about to continue her shooting training (rexation) if not for the sound of the door being opened. There was still another set of doors that could only be accessed by her, and it was a neat feature. The guest would be her maid and recently established head caretaker, Meredith Walter.
Cylene activated her built-in microphone connected to the terminal. It would make it easier to prevent sounds from leaking.
[What is it Meredith?] Cylene uttered through the partitioned room. She could see her maid’s silhouette through the blurry, bulletproof, gss. She is not alone, the Commander Regent is next to her and he seems to be carrying some papers.
“Pardon my intrusion, Your Grace, Commander Regent Kennedy requested a dialogue with you. Commander Regent, please if you may…” She bowed, stepped back, and let him talk with the sole ruler of Regalia. He fixes his cap before speaking.
“I’m here to inform you that the western region mapping has been finished.” The Commander Regent proceeds to inform her of recent developments.
[Mhm, and how is the Supreme Admiral’s progress?] Her silhouette could be seen inspecting the gun.
“He had just submitted an extensive report of vessels we had gained since transference.”
[Omit everything except the capital vessels, I will read them thoroughly ter.]
“Understood. We had added 20 carriers of all types and a further 80 rge vessels ranging from arsenal battleships to rger sea transport. Aside from that, we found a rge cache of weaponry and equipment these st few weeks. Those cargo ships are filled to the brim, providing more insights into their lengthy occupation and annexation if we were to lose.”
[Indeed… Shame, we are in no position to utilize them all. Status on the rebuilding of our fleet?]
“It would take approximately 2 years to retrain the necessary manpower to reach our bare minimum defense pn. To be truly what we once were, we might need a decade.”
[Then start mothballing 20% of rge captured vessels with efficient operational and maintenance costs, carriers are a no-brainer, so please prioritize faster and nimbler vessels. Next, I want 70% to be scrapped gradually, and utilize these for crew training in the meantime. Lastly, the remaining 10% must added into the reserve or home fleet, keeping them nearby would be for the best. Minimizing military expenditure to hasten revitalization would be our key to hastened recovery.] She pauses.
[Contact R&D to continue their development of our new multi-mission destroyer. If that’s unfeasible at the moment, then producing more Baron-csses would be the next logical step. I want smaller mobile forces to be our core fleets and to keep the maintenance down while directing our human resources elsewhere.]
“Make sense and yeah I’ll make sure they understand.” His tone getting more and more flippant, but Meredith has no right to talk unless prompted to. The Grand Autarch’s bodyguards don’t seem to mind him either, what say does a maid have in this?
[What is the status of Nova Leuvelica and its supply lines?]
“Groundwork and foundation of the military port have been id out by our combat engineers. In regards to supply lines, the second Sky Citadel could still support indefinitely and its nuclear reactor proves to be stable. Sea routes have been guarded by maritime coast guard vessels, the retively short distance goes in our favor.”
[Land appropriation progress?] Fshes were seen but no shots could be heard from the intercom. Kennedy continues his report.
“Except for 150 confirmed casualties but no fatality so far, the effort to pacify the isnd has been going smoothly. We are still within our timetables to turn it into our next breadbasket. Specialists and experts have been shipped with due haste to maximize the momentum. Preliminary reports stated that the soils were rich and fertile. The first batch of volunteer colonists would be shipped next week, numbering around 18.000.”
[Prioritize them, direct uninterrupted supply, and make sure I’ll be updated to the very minutia of details every time reports are submitted to my desk. With the state of things, we should be able to reliably improve our food production. Then again our fishery could only do so much without endangering themselves, and I doubt our people could stomach another decade of baking mushroom flour.]
Meredith watches the exchange silently, something has been bugging her. The Grand Autarch was known to be very ruthless… but ever since the transference? She is nothing sort of benevolent and reasonable… minus when dealing with… undesirables. It might have to do with the fact that her peers are no longer eyeing the continent greedily, thus her much more mellowed approach.
“That’s most of it, and I’m sure that the people would be most grateful. No worries, I will ensure your words are carried to the letter.”
[Make sure you do and when will our new Supreme Field Marshal arrive?] Kennedy gnced at the sidelined maid and she answered dutifully.
“Supreme Field Marshal Titania Rhycelia should be in transit at this very moment and arriving by the evening.”
[Accommodate her entourage’s needs until the appointed time on our schedule.]
“Understood, My Lady.”
[Then do let them have some of our homegrown commodity, the Umbral Pace should be able to do so, no?]
“Indeed and while we are on the topic, any specific request for the upcoming dinner, Your Grace?” Kennedy was surprised by her initiative, he was amused. Frankly, he thought the girl would be frozen stiff just like any other maids or butlers before her.
[Keep it simple… although I wouldn’t be opposed to having something on the heavier side. Get to it.]
“Noted and shall be done.” She was about to leave before Cylene stopped her, she had one less directive for the maid.
[Before you leave, I want you to inform the Military Internal Affairs echelon. Tell them that I want Olga Caligo in my office by the next week. Depending on what I shall see in the Western region, she would have much more prospective and productive sentences befitting her controversial fame as a War Hero.]
“Very well, My Lady. Perhaps there is more you wish of me to convey?” Cylene paused before affirming.
[That I do, inform the Navy to always have a linguist ready in our outlying outposts and ports. I don’t care where they are allowed to solicit members from other branches and even civilians. As much as I want to utilize the Diplomat first and foremost, they are in grave danger while we are blind.]
“Acknowledged, anything else?”
[That would suffice, now off you go. I do not want to be disturbed while conversing with my Commander Regent unless necessary.] Meredith said nothing else and left the room. She met Grasdivis along the way and even when she gained Cylene’s favor, their suspicion linger without reduced intensity.
Once the maid was out, Cylene let him get inside and locked the door again. The Grand Autarch continued with her exercise while the Commander Regent slunk on the nearby couch. He just enjoyed seeing her scoring hit after hit before opening his mouth.
“Stressed, aren’t you?”
“I saw those devastated settlements, scorched fields, ransacked camps, destroyed vegetation, and empty or filled mass graves. Regarding those left homeless, we would need more temporary dwellings, those are badly needed all over Regalia. With the 20th War ended, hopefully, factories are slowly being turned back into non-wartime production, so we couldn’t cease operation unless we want to risk colpse.” She inspects her revolver while continuing.
“Pre-fab houses, raw material refinery, medical equipment, auxiliaries, and so many things had been ordered for production… but I feel like it was never enough. This country has taken massive damages and most pressingly, we are blind to the geopolitical ndscape of the new world.”
“Felt like the same old problem, except the part where the Old World forgot that we existed or extra-dimensional guests wanted us dead. We build over old stuff, someone or something came knocking to knock off our stuff, and repeat ad infinitum.” The Commander Regent took an apple id on the table. He is visibly worried seeing that none were touched.
“You should eat more.”
“Not hungry…”
“Yeah right, lie better won’t you?” He meant that as a joke, but the woman took his words seriously.
“Pragmatic assurance, by showcasing to the people that we could recover quickly would inspire them to do their best. It would-” He sighed hearing her like that, a part of him was puzzled as to why she pushed herself beyond what he remembered.
“Oh come on just rex, there is no one else here and your Spesdecs would sooner shoot me in the head and themselves than entertain an idea to rebel against you. I didn’t follow you around for the st 1000 years or so for nothing, Cyl.” Cylene sighed and then stored the revolver on a nearby rack filled with firearms. She sauntered to the couch and slinked onto it. Her headache had been getting worse; shown with her hand nursing her temple.
“Fair enough… but what can I do? These st few weeks have been hectic as hell… and I have a feeling of being wrong, such as this world is much smaller compared to Orneas. Preliminary report suggested that, at least.” He nodded while looking at the targets by the yonder.
“Agree, that was a chaotic world and an expansive world that stretches without limit. Makes me wonder when we will even see the end of it.”
“We did see it; the Icefield.”
“Doesn’t count; it was so vast, and even our best could not go farther than a third way from Elesia to Graceveria.”
“The best you say…”
“I knew it, you have an allergy of staying perfectly still. Tell me, why are you so stubborn? Is it about the Frostnd Patriots? If it’s them, we already traced their hideout and kept them hunkering in their bunker. Destroying them and burying them alive is easy without UFSNE eyes drilling holes in our backs.”
“I’ll deal with them ter, personally.”
“…You’re not thinking to pull another illogical stunt, are you?” Kennedy’s eyes hardened his stare at her. The Grand Autarch may have closed her eyes, but a tiny quiver of her brows is enough.
Predictably, Cylene didn’t answer and he began wondering whether he should take them out himself or not. These Frostnd Patriots are quite complicated, they are a group that is fighting for the continent but not for the government. They pursue their objectives primarily concentrated on eliminating those they considered to be the invaders.
They hardly cared about who, what, or why when it is concerning how they will safeguard the continent with their modus operandi. If they confirm that their targets are non-native, so anyone coming from outside, they are toast. They had killed journalists, medical workers, volunteers, and soldiers alike.
Hell, there was an incident where they drove a car bomb towards a docked hospital ship and sank it. Not having enough of drowning defenseless and wounded people, they hijacked a communication station and loudly cimed to be the ones responsible for it. What came in between them and the target often became their colteral victims. Regalia and NIIO had pced a bounty on their heads, but so far no luck whatsoever.
It was horrific that both sides’ standing order was shoot-to-kill. Bonus and accodes for NIIO’s soldiers with confirmed kills on them earned a ticket to return home and enough cash for retirement. Even if said ‘lucky’ soldier had just stepped off their transport. It was that bad.
His extermination pn was interrupted when Cylene let out a shaky groan from her lips. His expression was marred with worry, but she stubbornly refused to yield. She nursed her headache a bit more then cracked her right eye open slightly. It doesn’t look as intimidating and instead carries an air of hesitance.
“What do you think of my policies so far? I would appreciate a harsh opinion.” A part of him wanted to reassure her, so she would rest. Yet he also knows that Cylene is not a person who could be pcated so easily, and she would be furious if someone lied to her too often.
“We could still have weathered them better, as in Regalian domestic policy and reconstruction. Your actions weren’t wrong but they weren’t the most optimal too… You’re really tired, take a break, the Autarchy isn’t so brittle that you taking a backseat for a few months would end up problematic.”
“I know… thanks for the reminder while making the headache worse, Otto.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Don’t start…” He tried to smile away at her squinted but intensifying gre, especially when each passing second made his lungs feel tight. Kennedy doesn’t know why she is so against being called that.
“Ok, I’m just kidding…” She closed her eyes, and he breathed a sigh of relief. They conversed nothing and savored the silence, then her longtime companion uttered something unbelievably daring.
“Wanna have fun then?” The woman groaned hearing his words. Of course, he was jesting… maybe…
“How crass can you get?” Despite her protest, there is nary a hint of disgust that echoed through her lips. Cylene was too mentally drained and stressed and wanna blow off some steam. Her shooting range happens to be a nice pce to unwind at the cost of potential hearing problems.
“You made me follow numerous insane pns that I never bother to count, it was not an overnight habit you know? Everything was an engrained experience. Besides, I was also there when we made a break for that Southern Portal… Your Grasdivis was 90% wiped out that day, and you almost died.” He quipped back, visibly and cautiously tiptoeing the line.
“Nah, never mind that…” He goes silent to munch on the apple and Cylene savors the silence while nursing her headache. She has been feeling them more frequently, but most of the time it felt like an itch behind her skull. Otto continues when the apple is half-eaten, he doesn’t realize Cylene’s quirked eyebrows when he pces the apple on the table.
“How did it go with your talks?”
“Good, the pn I offered them should be beneficial enough as is.”
“Not like they have any choice, or desire even, to openly oppose you. You’re not too unreasonable, and can be lenient at times.” The Grand Autarch snorted, amused or exasperated he doesn’t know. She crossed her legs and straightened up a notch.
“The project to encroach either westward or eastward would be decided soon. I have some designs in mind to utilize a part of our might to project power while concealing weakness. We need time, but we couldn’t just hunker down too. Acting weak and secretive could work, but I doubt it… goes to show that I’m far from perfect.”
“Gives yourself some scks, and this world is lopsided, to a comical degree, from what I had seen.”
“True… if our guesses were correct, then the dominant powers in this world could start closing in on our territory. The reports about seemingly damaged artificial satellites just made my head’s throbbing worse.”
“Shame that Rossa isn’t here with us.”
“She is.”
“Physically?”
“… Tsk… How is it going with the undesirables?” Her voice regained its vigor… or hate would perhaps be the correct word. Otto’s tone turned serious.
“We got some stragglers and they are trying to flee north. Your fanatics stay strong in the east and south, and Casherlish would never defy you no matter how outndish your orders would be.” He smirked and rolled out a cigarette on the table. Cylene doesn’t realize when he pulls them out, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Rest easy, not even one of them is getting away unless we got cndestine operatives from an unknown country trying to bail them. Even then if the tech and weird otherworldly difference aren’t too severe we could still win.”
“I want them removed.”
“Consider it done… and those who could still be redeemed?” Her eyes almost shot open; she tried her best to keep those golden suns from bzing over her expression. She scowls, teeth gritted tight and arms clenched to hold her trembling. Her head dipped slightly, but he knows that he kinda fucked that up.
“Are they redeemable after declining to peacefully answer the broadcast of surrender for the st few months? Are they redeemable after deliberately harming my soldiers and people? Are they deserving of redemption when they turned their backs on Regalia? They fear me, and they keep resisting. They think of me as the Devil incarnate, well… might as well be the very Devil they wanted me to become in their nightmare. No traitor’s life is worth even a drop of blood of my loyal subjects. We captured enough vermin to compensate, the rest of these pests must die.”
Her words are drenched in venom. Those golden eyes, even when shrouded from view, gained a further edge that made even the Commander Regent shiver in his seat. Cylene dialed back her aggression a notch with a tired sigh.
“Sorry, being so mentally exhausted made me too emotional… That being said, I would not suffer opportunist turncoats and I would not take Simon’s death lightly, they were complicit. Neither of us could afford to look weak in our own home, clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Another thing… keep our readiness at the fourth tier. Our ballistic missile arsenal is the only effective deterrence or st-ditch defense we have right now. I want to revoke Avalon, but current uncertainties won’t allow compcency.”
Thus the Commander Regent and the Grand Autarch continue their correspondence.
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[My fellow Regalian; of those who honored their vow most admirably, of those who endured in silence and spite, of those who had broken the promise and fealty, and of those who absconded the oath to unity and faith on the Autarchy… I wish for you to listen to my voice.]
Everyone listened raptly on the broadcast, no matter who they were. Be it the soldiers about to set forth on their duties, civilians who are heading where they are needed be it for work or to look over their family, and even the rebellious remnants who had their embers of defiance reaching a critical junction, all turned towards her.
[The st few weeks had been a situation that could not be understated. The drumming of artilleries and symphonies of guns were silenced by a bright light, and then… you feel the warm so alien… so… unnatural, even. However, all you had felt was nothing but one facet of the most basic; unvarnished, truth.] Murmurs broke out between them, split between two opposing spectrums of disbelief.
[It is a phenomenon that would make even the sanest and brightest minds question the foundation of what they believe… but I will say this, and as vexing as is…] The Grand Autarch held her breath, apprehension, confusion, anger, hope, and even na?ve puzzlement could be interpreted wildly.
[Transference of our continent… is a fact.] Louder voices, confounded, bitter, hopeful, joyful, wrathful… all sorts of emotions exploded in the continent. No one could believe someone like her to tell such a tasteless joke, but she provides evidence.
[For those who are listening through the radio, please turn towards the nearest television and I shall expin while you judge every sylble I utter. Refute me if you must, but only if you watch what shall unfold.] Her words were oddly persuasive, even those who hate her couldn’t fathom why they… follow her directive obediently.
Once they turn the television on, they see it for themselves.
[This is Tridentian Airport, Nova Elesia, and the Crown Jewel of Commerce for Regalia or, some stubbornly called, Tenebrea that was left to ruin… Does anyone know where and when, or more importantly how, we gained these?] NIIO’s sophisticated or ubiquitous aircraft are being parked neatly and even under maintenance. Supporters of detractors are left speechless seeing it all unfold.
Rows upon rows of aircraft and weapons of war being parked atop a bsted airfield put a jarring contradiction. MURG’s cutting-edge fighters had been sought to put an end to the stalemate, URoV’s robust and fabled interceptors had their cockpit emptied of its occupant, the Chrysanthemums who just arrived had their multitude of weapon systems still looked brand new; fresh out of assembly line.
Those who couldn’t believe it, mostly those who hated what she had done to Tenebrea, were quick to decry what was shown as falsehood. It was all a trick; a st-ditch effort where she couldn’t face reality. In any other reality, that is nothing but the truth although that truth is non-applicable on this one.
[Quite a perplexing image, I concurred; to the point that I shall call myself a madwoman; a most fitting title to some of you… Then what is this if not utterly inconceivable?] She shows the central mountain range melting snow and blossoming trees; the immortal Edelweiss does not wither but blooms. There is the leftover blight from wars long forgotten now dotting the mountains.
Those voices of dissent were silenced. The highest point of this continent is melting in some areas; free from its endless prison of ice above the cloud and mirroring the continental-wide of uncertainty. Central mountain ranges were once told as sacred ndmark because of its many cave fortresses where their ancestors banded together against oblivion before falling unto Casherlish systematic conquest.
It would be hard to deny that every pce melts under any normal condition.
Evidence is pouring and enlightening the masses; the images and recordings of migrating beasts further add authenticity to the footage and broadcast. Few television were smashed in anger and disbelief, but most still watch in hopeful silence and grim interest. Her expression then turned fiercer, and her mystifying eyes waited patiently for its time to gleam.
[I had been here for the rest of my life ever since the Casherlish first arrival. I had known this mountain for so long that it was the first time its valleys and feet of the mountains ever melted. If that’s not enough to convince you, how about something more… practical.] With a snap of her fingers, the camera moved to lines, and rows of traitors suddenly found themselves back at home.
Bound, shackled, terrified, abused, and so many words but one thing is certain. They had been captured, judged, and now awaiting their sentence and verdict. Something of this scale shouldn’t be possible else Regalian would be torn to shreds by a collective fury of the coalition, and UFSNE would have denounced them to hell despite knowing this sort of crime was being perpetrated by both sides. Regalia would be open to complete annihition… but so far nothing.
Audaciously, this time, it is done in broad daylight; no one could intervene other than the power that is which unfortunately did not care enough to do so. Cylene then walks leisurely towards a particur hooded person segregated from the rest.
[To those who defied Autarchy’s vision of the future, surely you know this one person? A courageous fellow; one aspect that I could respect. A man who had enfmed the spirit of freedom against the one and only tyrant. One of many monikers I bore with even lesser meanings but no less endearing to all of you who wish upon the Commonwealth’s return.]
She ripped open one of the figures whose face was shrouded inside a bloodied bag. Once it was shown, the rebels cried out in shock while the loyalists roared in jubition. Gleeful contempt and contemptuous spree cshed seeing the fme of rebellion exposed to the cold blizzard. Night has come, and it cimed the one who carried the torch of freedom with it.
Here is, what would have been, Tenebrean Commonwealth's new leader. He had been beaten bck and blue; bloodied and battered, to the inch of his life. Aside from his missing eyes, messy scraggly hair, fully naked and tortured body, and tongue ripped out of his throat, his face is recognizable.
[Damian Wilhelm Constantine… Traitor, backstabber, murderer, sinner… and a man who sold the continent for a noble goal. A goal that was paid by Regalian and you, Tenebrean, alike.] Even if his eyes were rendered unusable, ears rendered dead, mouth bled out of its right to speak, and senses turned into a chaotic mess, he still spat on the floor. Exactly where Cylene is standing. He spoke an incoherent mess of words, but it was enough to hear that it was the real him.
[The man is here… whisked away from his fortress and nest overseas. He is now barred from broadcasting the most beautiful fantasy known to all of us… now he is here… on his feet; awaiting judgment.] She pulled out a revolver and inserted a bullet inside the chamber. The sheer size of the hand cannon promised an instantaneous journey to the afterlife.
[Let it be known, effective immediately, I decre the traitor be damned.] The trigger was pulled, and Damian’s brain was spttered on the concrete below. His body jerked one st time before settling for eternal rigor mortis. It fell with a soft thud, but even the softest sound could not understate its significance.
His face smashed into billions of pieces and trillions upon trillions of atoms. Blood red puddle erupted and etched on the ground like a fountain. His blood is on her, and she doesn’t bother to clean it. Cylene did nothing else but stood where she was.
So perfectly still with nary a word nor tremble.
Many had expected that she had killed more people with or without proxy, what is one more skull on her throne and a river of blood under her boots? Then why is she standing there like an arrogant fool? Perhaps she is waiting for anything to happen, or is she finally internalizing the enormity of her past, present, and future sins? No one knows other than a man who had been executed in cold blood. One dream extinguished by another, a common application of the victor’s privilege.
People who had fostered a grudge against him began their mocking, shouting, and swearing of curses upon the man rendered a corpse. Sense of relief and satisfaction flow into those he had, knowingly or not, wronged. Grudges, sadness, and grief are put to rest with a clear sight from the flower of blood blooming splendidly. To them, he is the one who had precipitated all these mayhems. He is the architect of this chasm between Regalian and thus considered irredeemable.
Conversely, those who supported Damian’s vision began their prayers, with staunch belief or not had pushed them over the edge for a miracle. They do not care which higher powers are out there, but praying hard for anyone or anything to smite this devil for her hubris and scatter her flocks of demons. Some did so with utmost fervor that they cried and hands csped tight to bleed…
And yet…
Nothing.
All that’s left is an ever-present silence. The birds cawed disinterestedly, the livestock grazing quietly, and even ever-infinite waves and tides of the sea carried on with muted diligence. People who toiled and listened were accompanied by their crafts, children frolicked in their pyground with wonder at this still calmness free of once ever-present artillery bombardment, and painful groans or stifled tears of people who had suffered injury and illness echoed amidst many pces that treated them.
Other than those…
Not a single fsh of thunder, not a sliver gust of wind, and most certainly… not even a whisper foretelling eternal damnation. Damian visionaries’ vibrant fervor petered out and lost its momentum, and they too could do nothing but wallow in helpless horror. Conversely, the demagogue of her design watches in awe, suffocating on the idea that even fate itself is on her side.
Cylene Renoir stands where she is, drenched in the blood of a dreamer and traitor. Paying no mind to iron seeping into her fabrics, she stood and savored the gentle breeze. A natural monument to showcase a hero’s sublime righteousness or a monster's unadulterated terror.
Soon the rest of the defeated, captured, and humiliated visionaries began their strings of cries. Repeats of weeping, ughter, shouts, and many more things in the face of her executioners lining up for their shots. Their fate is sealed and sanctioned for the rest of this dispced continent to observe.
[Here I am, out in the open… waiting for any NIIO’s agents in the dark to put me down like the whore she-devil and witch they accused of me… How come I still stand? Didn’t we lose the air war as this once courageous man decred grandly? He was really brave; uncaring that his brothers and sisters were the ones being put to the guillotine. How come I was not erased into oblivion by the so-called righteous hammer falling from the sky?]
Taunts and pities are softly spoken flippantly with tones of small talk. The camera turns to see her standing right in the middle of an open field turned execution camp and soon-to-be mass grave.
[The answer is simple; ughably so… Our invaders are no more; NIIO is no more.] Images upon images of empty camps, mass graves for NIIO, and even mustering points in remote supply depots show nothing but abrupt messiness. NIIO’s fgs are fluttering without anyone to salute and care for them; a few have been damaged due to harsh weather.
Stacks of documents in a rge base were left unattended and unguarded. Proven to be so when codes and intelligence made a good chunk out of it. So many secrets left bare for Regalian’s soldiers' perusal with a few being handed around like a piece of inconsequential paper. They read those things casually, before handing them in for collection.
Mess hall filled with half-rotten food since its occupant went missing, dirty bandages and undries left to the element on some forgotten front, supply depot chock full with weapons and arms that are enough to arm a battalion for months, and so many more to see. Series of burning tents from negligence and disappearance of their occupants, motor pool with vehicles going through cleaning or maintenance, and so on.
The next image shows a confused Regalian prisoner trying to make contact with the nearest avaible unit to free them. They even managed to storm the local armory and armed themselves with what they could find, suffice to say some have more than just cuts and bruises. Obvious signs of mental illness and torture are pin to see; something Damian had denied ever happening.
Even more images and recordings show emaciated soldiers, sexually abused male and female Regalian, PTSD-ridden prisoners merrily mucking about with their limbs now incomplete, and recently tortured soldiers reeling from their wounds. Their eyes, body, spirit, and health are bruised if not broken for eternity. The rebels who believed that NIIO would not do such a thing averted their eyes, either out of shame or not wanting to acknowledge the truth. Of course, those who witnessed Regalian atrocity tried to bring them back to the fold, but mere lip service is ineffective.
Bullets and shells left unattended with many start gathering a reasonably thick dust covering them. Crashed aircraft and vehicles clogged the runway and highway respectively. Most damningly, the POW camps for NIIO’s soldiers were left empty, the guards were helplessly left confused about this phenomenon. Not even the slightest bit of evidence of anyone being there was left. Everything from blood to human waste is gone like NIIO was nothing but a continental-wide hallucination.
Fleets upon fleets of ships crashing on one another create a jumbled mess of steel on the ocean. A city of metal scraping one another and flying weapons of war tilting into the sea to swim with the fish. Gigantic cannons and humongous stockpiles of missiles left without masters to command them. Port facility in the middle of supply transfer and distribution had fallen into disrepair with many great machineries fruitlessly going back and forth to retrieve non-existent packages.
The most damning and damaging evidence, however, is none other than the occupation zone’s projected pn and divisions. Cylene authorized RAIO to repy many audio logs they had gathered for the st decade. It ranges from normal conversation between soldiers to the many high-ranking or influential persons bargaining the nd that will be utilized by their respective factions.
Many ideas revolves from peaceful amalgamation to outright subjugation because it took too much time otherwise. There is a pn to emigrate their people to the conquered nd to enforce and help foster obedience and loyalty. Then there is also a pn to segregate Regalian under the idea that their mutation could be harmful, effectively turning them into second-css citizens at best.
Offshore oil fields, mines, farmnds, and trading ports are even shown to be more complicated, several factions are ciming different parts which could potentially lead to another war. This time, Regalian would most likely be employed as disposable soldiers with promises of a better life in occupation zones. It fuels indignation among the rebels that have been promised freedom only to trade one tyrant for another, or worse multiple tyrants, for even smaller strips of nd.
The paper was read aloud on how the coastal regions, barring the south for obvious reasons, shall be annexed. Those who had sacrificed everything for freedom had gone insane from this painful revetion, but of course, some deemed it false and just another propaganda albeit with less intensity and surety.
Doubt is a potent seed for despair.
Treachery’s reward is itself.
They gained a little more than autonomy but never, ever going to be enough for such a harsh continent; a far cry trade from the promised free state. Dawn for the day brings about a crushed hope for heralding a twisted tomorrow after yesterday’s yearning. An utterly hollow mockery of a sophisticated future becoming a murky and shallow fantasy.
[This was our previous and what was to be the new reality. The mainnd shall suffer just as much is true, but you’re selling yourself even cheaper.
Your family, children, friends, and everyone you hold dear… Are you willing to trade your neighbors who have weathered the same storm for people who only wish to use you?
While we, the defeated, are rebuilding, you, Tenebrean, shall be off to another war… ironic, isn’t it? Dreams of eversting and sacred freedom that leads to eternal servitude in the fiefdom.]
Most rebel groups already turned off the broadcast, fearing organizational failure, worsening morale, and catastrophic colpse. Quite a few rather face the ugly truth, and with a wounded heart and will, they think hard on cards id on their table. To persist and hold on to shattered freedom or to save what is left of their group.
To fight and die on their knees then consign their family to oblivion or to bend the knee and open up the path for their children’s future. If freedom, hopefully, rises again, the newer generation may deem them a coward.
How could they say that when they’re not facing the executioners’ gun barrel? How could they denounce their choice if their children are being sent walking to a point of no return? How could they say that fighting the good fight by sending their brothers and sisters to pointless death is just? They don’t know and care about them while such thoughts pgue their mind.
[But, right now is our reality. This continent is no longer in Orneas, and for those who still wish to spill the blood of their own to stubbornly have the truth denied… please, do try to communicate with your handlers. Otherwise…] The Grand Autarch opened her eyes for the continent to see, and every living, breathing, souls were compelled to bow their head in fear or awe or both.
[Understand that the Regalian Autrachy only gives you one st chance to surrender. The Autarchy shall forgive your transgression in light of this extreme event…
Please, sincerely, surrender to the nearest garrison and I promise only a few decades of hard bor and reeducation shall await you. Think about your family and future, it is senseless to continue. All of us are survivalists by nature, SIEZ taught us so, and this is not the time for division.]
Cylene tone softened, an ample of pity and forgiveness was thick enough for even the staunchest rebel to feel its genuineness. This chance to surrender is coated with hateful rage spoken through her golden eyes, it is a bzing but cold radiance of logic. She gave them a chance, but that was it.
She gave them a choice and chance, but that didn’t stop her from snapping her finger. A single, simple, flick ter, a chorus of gunfire snapped into attention. The cascades of thuds were heard, and the Grasdivis all turned with practiced movement toward their leader.
That day, the continent watched as her hunting dogs and peacemakers executed thousands of people deemed harmful to national security. It was swift, clean, and done with a single stroke of the bde… but Cylene still clenches said bde, who knows how many more swings shall she bring?
It is easy to crow and fight for freedom; to be brave and do what is right. Yet when death itself is staring you in the eye, you would see that more than a few of your compatriots would falter. Not everyone is built as an indomitable warrior, most just want to survive.
[Casherlish, Wolltresh, Taisharagi, Basradeen, Icefnders, and Avergoths; all Regalian… we are stranded in an unknown world. Riddled with unknown perils and this is no time to fight amongst ourselves.] She reiterated her words that the rebels should surrender, or face the practical persuasion and test its efficacy for themselves.
[Thank you for your attention…] She stood on attention and she performed the standard Regalian salute. Deeply ingrained in her people and despised by her detractors, but that is the perfect hammer to nail down the truth.
[Eternity, for our Autarchy.] Her soldiers mimicked her movement perfectly. Formations of unmasked Grasdivis created an effective image to show that they are not anywhere close to complete capitution. These young’uns were once innocent nobody or perhaps not. What matters is be damage reflected on their faces.
Aside from the asinine truth that their faces are younger, courtesy of the deadly war, none among them that doesn’t bore the same lifeless and cold eyes that lose their youthful and dazzling charm. Some had gone as far as bearing scars that left them disfigured for life, and some more.
They were maybe aspiring engineers whose expertise in creating architectural marvels was turned to bury mankind underneath the earth or a more sinister design. Maybe they were thieves whose expertise meant little in the eye of the w but was necessary and heroic in times of great perils. They have a pair of real skills; surviving and fighting through the corpse-ridden battlefield is a skill like no other and coveted by the learned and sophisticated or dimwitted and uncultured.
That’s the end of the broadcast, and the people were once again released from their captivating trance. One second, a rustle, five seconds, heads are turning at one another, and by the eleventh, emotions erupt to signal a widespread change.
Her lively loyalist cheered, victory and survival had arrived. Men and women broke out into celebration, their enemy had been vanquished, who did it mattered little, and now the path to rebuilding was open. The storms had passed, and they could see the sky without fear and hatred clouding their eyes.
People cried and hugged one another, others crumpled where they were with relief and disbelief. So many Regalian are going around doing merry with one another. Old and young shared modest cups and fsks filled with either distilled wine or pin waters, but at such crucial junction managed to taste the coveted ambrosia.
On the other side, there exist those drowning in misery.
Her despondent denouncer cried out and cursed loudly unto the heaven. Broken and exhausted men and women could do nothing but stare in manic denial, resigned in defeat, or try to fight against the dying of hope.
Their victory was robbed and now the Regalian shall turn their fangs upon the Tenebrean. Resistance Leaders who had voices that rumbled the earth were robbed of such lightning. Freedom fighters and good warriors going mad, looking for deliverance from nothing, and even turning on another, mirrored the jubition of the side they thought to be defeated. Freedom is dead, or if the Witch is speaking the painful truth, a stillborn concept.
The common people; the majority? They are watching in a daze, confusion, and bewilderment. Everything is moving far too quickly and their old world is changing. For the better… or worse…
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“Boss, what’s next?” The one they addressed as boss twirled a knife between his fingers, his eyes cast far into the horizon. His unkempt golden hair, bulky build, and tall stature were framed solidly by the wind breezing through the mountain’s crevices. A point of interest would be the crossed-out tattoo that stretched over his right arm to form a coiling snake. It was no tattoo but a wound that burnt parts of flesh and muscle.
Around them would be others of the same mind, but strangely enough, none appears perturbed about the broadcast. They still py chess as if normal, goofing around with guns and cards, or sitting back and enjoying a restful silence. A few could also be seen watching or hearing other broadcasts uncaringly like they have all the time in the world.
Her threat was not dismissed by any capacity, they merely deemed the whole ordeal as a done deal; an inevitable outcome. Rather than brooding over painful and hideous death approaching them slowly, if they are insidiously lucky, better enjoy life while they can because Grasdivis wasn’t famous for accommodating their fellow man unless exceptions were made.
“Order everyone to cease operations, and tell them they are free to surrender or RTB. Those who did, I wish them good luck, and those who didn’t… Well, I will never turn away idiots wishing to accompany me to hell.” He snickered faintly when his knife nicked his finger, drawing a drop of blood.
“Our brethren no longer have a gun pointed at their heads, so they will clean up the dregs and filth without our intervention more efficiently.”
“I’m sure we are within that perimeter of dregs, guess I need to look for Napalm raining down from the sky soon enough huh?” A man said nonchantly while cleaning up his machine gun. There is a noticeable scar with flesh gouged out of it, but what’s more concerning would be the nerves still pulsing through. His half-greyed-out eyes do not respond to the glint of light reflected off his gun.
“Hmm…. Otto will kill us without second thoughts if it means that… err… Cylene would get peace of mind. We had agreed with our lot anyway, what’s the point arguing?” Nods and agreement quickly spread despite the grim undertones of their topic.
Naturally, the base became a hive of activity after the order came down and soon day turned into night. Men and women who were so grim and taciturn now wore their hearts on their sleeves. Hugs and cheers for the war’s ending were celebrated with zero remorse for their crimes. Some shed tears before leaving their gear and heading for the nearest Regalian outpost with a bright smile on their faces. The rest?
“In other words, we are dead, dead? Huh, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll meet her real executioners.”
“Hey check it out, our bounties were delisted. We are so screwed! Hahahahaha!”
“Toast to our freedom! Toast to Her Imperial Majesty Cylene Renoir! ALL HAIL HER IMPERIAL MAJESTY!”
“All fucking hail to Her Imperial Majesty Cylene Renoir! Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
“We are damn cheap bitches now! Hey boys and girls, prepare to welcome the customers!”
“Anyone wanna have fun?”
“I’m on ya ass, sis. Hey bro, let's share the moment, how’s that sound?”
“Just don’t miss your aim again… I can still feel it…”
“Bah, don’t be a pussy my man!”
“Good thing we have no one going to miss us.”
“Wrong, one person might ment our mentally insanity.”
“I doubt it, we know how she runs the show. Just look at those hopeful idiots there, all bloomed.”
“Well, it might not be her personally.”
“What? You want her to bed you or something?”
“I’m just saying…”
“Man, get real, you have a short and limp dick you will shame us all instead!”
“You wanna fucking go taintsucker!?”
“Oh, I’m going!”
“Hah…, it reminds me of those lucky bastards. We would have put some hot leads in their heads if you weren’t so fucking slow! Because we have to wait for you to take a piss, we lost them, shitheads!”
“I said I’m sorry, ok?! Besides, who knows we would get shit like this thrown at us? Get real mate!”
“Such a great way to end our merry band and this bsted adventure.” The Boss mussed seeing his subordinates let go of the war. They are dancing, singing, and ughing with that devil-may-care attitude. Of course, some start preparing for the inevitable, but not before mooching off on beverages and snacks.
“Yep… the Commander Regent will kill us all.”
“Otto will drop a 10-ton bomb on our heads… or maybe an Indigo for a good measure…”
“If he didn’t?” The so-called boss shrugged off their query and continued pying with the knife. His response confused them, but no one was interested in pursuing it any further.
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author’s Note:
Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who has a toothache and what else can I say?
Here we see her going into the swing. Settling into a role she had been allegedly familiar with. Very harsh and scummy, but hey… people say that Politicians are either liars or hypocrites.
These are the css-naming patterns for warships in the Regalian Navy. Only the first ship of her css will bear the full name (duh).
Super Carrier = Emperor / Empress
Carrier = King / Queen
Light / Helicopter Carrier = Prince / Princess
Super Battleship = Archduke / Archduchess
Battleship = Duke / Duchess
Heavy Cruiser = Marquis / Marchioness
Light Cruiser = Count / Countess
Destroyer = Viscount / Viscountess
Frigate = Baron / Baroness
Corvette = Knight / Knightess
Submarine = Folktales, Myths, and Legend.
Cargo = C - Numeral (Example, C - 011)
Spesdec (the correct abbreviation would be SPS-DC) stands for Sovereign’s Personal Security and Defense Corps.
That’s all… Update?
Ciao.
