“To crave power is to be

  undeserving of it.”

  - The Chronicler

  Chapter 19: The Burden of Kingship

  Since being made King, Magnus did not know how to feel. It all felt so unreal. Knowing how to think or how to act felt like some unattainable goal. Being made a King was not something he could readily incorporate into his identity.

  “And that’s a good thing,” Maria replied, now fully healed. “So many leaders let that kind of power go to their head. You can be a better kind of leader. One that lets his morals guide him, as opposed to his desires or ego.”

  “That’s right,” Lima agreed before gulping down some Coco-bark juice. “You’re going to make a great King. We just need to get you on that throne.”

  The rest of the usual suspects were there. Everyone had engaged in conversation, some relaying their experiences from the previous battle. Others enjoyed the comforts and peace the Matai’s lounge offered. Most of all, everyone enjoyed the good Co-co bark juice that had been freshly pressed. Save Gar, who was brooding next to his brother.

  “Do we really have time to be sitting here doing nothing?” Gar asked, refusing to partake.

  “We are doing something, brother. We’re resting. You should try it sometime,” Lima countered. “Besides, it's not often we get to celebrate a victory.”

  “I don’t consider barely surviving a victory,” Gar hissed.

  “Surviving is always a victory,” Red countered.

  “We’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” Pickett added, nodding in agreement. “The Chronicler arrived just before we got the feet knocked out from under us.”

  “I don’t understand how someone being given a glowing sword is going to fix all of our problems,” Gar reasoned. “You think we’re just going to waltz into Paradign and expect Azakar to hand over the throne?”

  “The Sword of Right is not just any sword. It's a symbol of authority to the people. A symbol that has grown stronger under the reign of Azakar. The people want new leadership,” Pickett argued.

  “And how will they know that this sword isn’t some kind of forgery?” Gar asked.

  “Because the sword is not something you can fake. Its power is in its commanding of respect. All true Paradignians will respect its authority,” Pickett continued.

  “See? We have reason to celebrate, brother,” Lima began. “For the first time in a long time, we’ve been given a major victory in this war.”

  “Best not count the goober eggs before they hatch. Besides, we lost a lot of good people,” Gar reminded them.

  “And we’re not forgetting that fact. We’re not heartless,” Lima spat. “But we have a glimmer of hope that this war, and this conflict, will be over. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating that.”

  “Well then, what do we do now that we have the glowing spirit of optimism on our side?” Gar asked, looking around the room.

  “That’s apparent, General. We get King Magnus to his throne, and restore order to the motherland,” Pragnus suggested, speaking up from the corner of the room.

  “As great as all this is, I also think someone should see if Koga is still alive at Deathlock. With Tulius’ forces in retreat, it would be an ideal time to use that chaos to our advantage,” Maria suggested.

  “Doing that could endanger more of our men. I don’t think it wise,” Gar countered. “Getting the new King on his throne is time sensitive.”

  “And seeing if Koga is alive isn't?” Maria retorted.

  Heated arguments around the room began. Gar argued with Maria, then everyone who joined her side. Some, it seemed to Magnus, out of spite for Gar. Magnus, tired of remaining silent, stood up.

  “Enough!” he bellowed. “If you want me to be King, then I’ll start acting like one. Maria, you and your friends take the Night Witch to see about Koga.”

  “Lima,” Magnus continued, “Rosari is a territory of Paradign correct?”

  “That’s correct,” Lima replied. “Rosari answers to your authority.”

  “Then prepare half of your people to join me. You as well, Pragnus. The rest of the troops, armorment, and ships will stay here to defend Rosari and the outlying islands.”

  “What about me and mine?” Gar asked.

  “You can come with us if you want. If not, that’s up to you. You don’t answer to me, but if you come along, you will. Understood?”

  “Clear as crystal,” Gar responded. “I’ll help you… King Stryker.”

  “Good,” Magnus replied. “Red, would you be willing to accompany Maria to Deathlock? She’ll need someone who can infiltrate the prison stealthily.”

  “Not too excited at that idea,” Red replied. Sighing, she continued, “but I owe Koga a favor, so yeah. I’ll do it.”

  “Glad you’re on board,” Magnus replied in gratitude.

  “But I’m not helping you fight your war. After Deathlock, I’m done,” she stated bluntly

  “That’s fair. Thanks for your help,” Magnus replied.

  “Don’t thank me. Just repaying a debt,” she added.

  Lima stood up, and began to make out plans and send out messages on his H.I.C. Gar and Pragnus did the same. Maria began conversing with her crewmates.

  “When should we be ready to make way?” Lima asked.

  “In the next twenty-four hours,” Magnus replied. “Maria, once you’re done at Deathlock, rendezvous with us at Vult. We’ll need all the help we can to defend the Capital. I don’t think the Triumvirate is done with us yet.”

  “Copy that. We’ll leave within the hour,” she confirmed.

  “One more thing, Lima,” Magnus added, turning to him.

  “Yes, my King?” Lima answered, a certain glow of hope about him.

  “I need you to give me all the engineers, technicians, and old Titans you have lying around. I’ve got a little project to work on before we leave.”

  *

  “You awake in there?” Maria asked, banging on Marriane’s cell.

  “I am now,” she replied, sitting up from her bunk. Rubbing her eyes, she approached the cell’s shielding.

  “Let me make one thing clear to you,” Maria began. “I don’t like you. What you did to my village was despicable. You’re pirate trash, and you don’t even deserve a bed or bathroom in that cell as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I get it,” Marianne replied humbly. “What I’ve done was unforgivable. I’m sorry.”

  “That being said, I’ve done stupid things for love,” Maria continued, “and I’m going to need your help in dealing with the Triumvirate. You know them, and you know how to help out on the Night Witch. Red told me that Krieger’s son, your boyfriend or husband or whatever he is to you, is on Deathlock. Help me get in there, and I’ll help him escape.”

  Maria opened Marriane’s cell. The pirate stood dumbfounded, her expression turning from mournfulness to relief. She bowed her head in thankfulness.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” Marriane quivered. “I won’t let you down.”

  Maria reached forward, grabbing Marriane by the collar and pulling her forwards. Standing roughly the same height, Maria locked eyes with the pirate. Her face contorted into a visage of vengeful wrath.

  “Step out of line, go rogue, or so much as forget to clean your room and I’ll have no problem filling you lasers and playing you like a flute. Are we clear?”

  “For better or worse,” Marriane replied softly, “I’m on your side now, Captain.”

  Maria released her.

  “Then follow me. We need to get you prepped for the mission.”

  *

  Making their way through Paradign had been easier than Magnus anticipated. With the Sword of Right in hand, it was the only passport he and his small army needed to make his way to the Capital. Some tried to prevent them, but such protests were quickly quelled by the showing of the sword. It was as though it had a power in and of itself to command the respect of every Paradignian they met.

  In his direct entourage was Naf, Pickett, Checotah, Gar, Lima, Losefa, and a handful of Rosarian soldiers. Maintaining communication with Maria and her team, they learned their mission was going as planned. They were almost at Deathlock.

  It was a growing sympathy among Paradign that new leadership was needed. Magnus was under the same impression for many years, but having been in the military, he could not openly voice his concerns. Given all he had been through, such concerns were no longer pressed upon him.

  Vult was in utter disarray. The Capital was locked down tight. Armored units, including a few Hercules mech units, marched around the city’s outer walls. Ground troops and tank units patrolled the inner city, while fighters and destroyers hovered high above. Transport units lay on standby, despite the city resident’s pleas for evacuation. According to troops he’d spoken to along his trek, Azakar had ordered that no one was to leave the city.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Relay the order that I’m giving the transports clearance to depart. Tell them to get the civilians far away from here to the South,” Magnus ordered, communicating with the Air Marshal.

  “I doubt Azakar will like his orders overturned, my King,” the Marshal countered.

  “And I don’t think any of us will like the very people we’re protecting put in harm’s way,” Magnus hastened. “Now get going, Marshal.”

  The Marshal, loyal to Paradign, did as commanded. Ending the comm, Magnus walked away from the communication panel. Walking up towards the front the bridge, he looked out of The Herald’s main viewing deck. Lima addressed him.

  “He knows you’re coming. Are you ready for this?”

  Magnus took a moment to respond.

  “My whole life, I’ve wanted to see change happen for my people. To protect and serve, just like my father did. This war has taken my father and brother. Maybe my other brother, too. I used to just be a cog in the system. A pawn in some mastermind’s game, unable to see the big picture. Now that I have this power, and the vision to see clearly, I can actually change things. So yes… I’m more than ready.”

  “You know, sometimes, good people lose sight of that goodness they’re trying to accomplish,” Lima warned. “A lot of evil has been done in the name of good.”

  “Then keep me in check, Lima. Don’t let me lose sight,” Magnus replied, turning to the older man.

  “I won’t” Lima replied, smiling as he grabbed his shoulder. “I met your father once. I think he’d be proud of you.”

  “I hope so,” Magnus replied.

  “I’ll help keep that big ego of yours in check so he’ll stay that way,” Lima teased, winking.

  “Sir,” the Bridge Commander interrupted, “troop transports are ready for departure.”

  Jumping into his newly created Titan, Magnus boarded a transport along with his compatriots. They descended towards the palace, which looked as pristine and shiny as the first day he had laid eyes on it.

  “Much nice,” Naf noticed, pointing out Magnus’ new armor.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Magnus replied.

  “I’m much your buddy?” Naf asked, looking up at him with his big eye. He then proceeded to hug the leg of his Titan.

  “You much my buddy, too.”

  Magnus felt his heart warmed by the little robot’s hug. He felt pity for all the little guy had lost. It led him to wonder about why he had decided to travel to Vult instead of Deathlock.

  “Naf, why did you-”

  “Not go with the girls and the rude one? Master made Lima my new master. I would not disobey him. Must protect Lima,” the little guy reasoned, letting go of him.

  “Hey, much think make Titan for Naf?” he continued.

  “I think I could get around to that,” Magnus chuckled.

  Magnus was not one to brag about his accomplishments, but he was quite proud of his creation. The large, armored beast was painted the colors of his homeland: white, green, and red. It was decked out in laser cannons, jet thrusters, a mega sized H.I.C. with a large shield output, and even a mini-phanter cannon. It stood 3 meters high, and provided more maneuverability than any mech ever created. Its motions were fluid, and timed perfectly to the pilot’s movements. It was a technological wonder, one he hoped to make accessible to all Paradignian forces.

  As they landed at the base of the palace steps, the reality of the situation hit Magnus like a ton of bricks. He was about to face Azakar and his family. He doubted it would be a peaceful transition. He hoped to handle the situation correctly.

  The Royal Guards, loyal to Azakar, refused them entry. This was the case until the military forces guarding the perimeter bullied them into opening the way. Loyalty only went so far when outnumbered by devastating odds, so the Royal Guard begrudgingly let Magnus and his party through.

  “Be ready, Magnus. Azakar and his spawn are a slippery bunch. No telling what they might do,” Lima warned.

  “I’m ready,” Magnus replied, “If watching them on the interweb has taught me anything, it’s that they’re good at slipping out of sticky situations. No doubt they might try to escape, and undermine my rule.”

  “There’s no escaping this situation,” Gar chimed in. “They’re giving up the throne, or else.”

  Entering the throne room, Magnus laid eyes on Azakar. He was proud. Pompous. Old. With him stood his daughter, Azraya, and his two sons, Mezatosh and Ducifer.

  Azraya, charming, deceiving, and spoiled, was the middle child. She was also an excellent dancer, which made her a nimble, deceiving fighter. He remembered watching her compete on The Greatest Fighter on DingeyPrimePlusUltraUber, a popular streaming service. Whether scripted or otherwise, she won that season.

  Mezatosh was the oldest, wisest, and most cunning of Azakar’s offspring. Magnus had never seen him fight before, though he imagined it was because he did not have to, and not because he could not. He had seen him speak many times, and could see he could spin a lie along with the best of the politicians.

  Ducifer was the youngest, strongest, and biggest of the three. From his interweb appearances, Magnus gathered he was also the dumbest. Had he not been the Prince, he would have been thrown in prison long ago due to his violent outbursts and bar fights. As Naf might say, he was clearly, “much on the juice.”

  “So you’re the usurper I’ve heard so much about. Pity you came all this way to die,” Akazar wheezed. The old, long haired did not bother to stand. Magnus was not sure he could.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Azakar. You know what this sword means. Please, let’s handle this in a civilized manner,” Magnus implored.

  Azakar and his kin chuckled. Azakar, as Magnus had figured, would be far too arrogant to respect the authority of the sword.

  “My boy, you’re trying to usurp my throne. MY throne! You think I’d just hand it over because some outdated law requires me to? I AM THE LAW! THE KING! A fool like you doesn’t deserve my throne,” Azakar roared, weakly trying to stand from his throne.

  “Your rule is over, Azakar. The military won’t back you this time,” Lima warned. “How do you think we got here without a fight?”

  Azakar smiled. His smile was twisted. It was beyond haunting.

  “The same way I orchestrated the death of your father, little Stryker,” he began, addressing Magnus. “Do you really think that your father’s little ‘accident’ on the way to a peace-accord was not planned? Your father was a bug under my boot, and soon, you will be too.”

  The news stunned him. To think that his father’s death was orchestrated by the highest law-giver in the land, a King which he had loyally served, made him sick. More than that, it made him angry.

  From behind the great pillars aligning the throne room, troops emerged in black and silver armor, with purple energy weapons at the ready. Their unique armor made them easily distinguishable from Paradignian forces. They were Triumvirate.

  Gar laughed.

  “What a joke. There’s an entire army behind outside that backs this transition, Azakar. What would killing us accomplish?”

  Azakar smiled, but Mezatosh replied in his stead.

  “Chaos, of course. Without a clear leader, the Kingdom will crumble.”

  “So you’d rather watch your homeland burn than it be under your rule?” Magnus asked, confused and enraged.

  “That was the plan all along. In the new world, no kingdoms will be needed,” Azakar responded. “I’ll have a new body, and more than a kingdom. I’ll have an empire. I’ll be a god!”

  Lima shook his head.

  “You’re mad, Azakar,” the Rosarian retorted, stating the obvious. “The Triumvirate has twisted your mind.”

  “No. They’ve enlightened it. Guards, finish them!”

  The Triumvirate troops moved forward, attacking with ferocious tenacity. Prepared for the fight, Magnus was locked into his suit and ready to go. Now, he could demonstrate the overwhelming power of his Titan, and let loose the anger that was boiling inside. Launching himself forward with his suit’s thrusters, he cut three Triumvirate men in half with the Sword of Right. The armor’s speed, combined with its agility equal to that of the Triumvirate’s biosuits, performed well. Magnus’ men also engaged the enemy, but they could hardly keep up with the body count he was racking up in the Titan.

  Despite the impressiveness of Charlie, the name he had given his Titan, the Triumvirate guards were not fearful of him. They were skillful fighters, and had it not been for his technological advantage, Magnus wondered if he would have succumbed to the enemy’s power. Should he survive, he decided to dedicate more time to melee training.

  Magnus’ team was winning the fight. Slowly, they were cutting down the Triumvirate troops. Pickett, using his skill with shield and saber, Checotah with his two handed ax, Naf with his laser eye and other gadgetry, and the two old brothers with coordination and precision. The rest of the entourage of troops moved forward, gaining ground on their foes. They had almost reached Azakar’s position.

  The old man looked fearful.

  “Magnus!” Mezatosh roared, halting Magnus, and by his command, his forces.

  “Show yourself a King, and duel my brother Ducifer to the death. If he loses, you take your throne. If not, you were not worthy of it anyway.”

  “Foolishness! Press our advantage, Magnus. We almost have them,” Gar growled, readying his sword as he took an aggressive stance..

  “No,” Magnus countered, deactivating his blade. “They may lack honor, but I do not.”

  Magnus knew it would be better strategically to do as Gar had suggested, but there were less obvious elements to the situation than his brash counterpart could see. Chiefly, the court of public opinion. To their right, a news drone had been covertly recording all that was transpiring. Magnus only noticed it moments before Mezatosh’s offer. If he were to be seen by the people as a different kind of King than Azakar, he would need to prove himself a noble warrior.

  Exiting his mech so as not to have an unfair advantage, Magnus faced off against his larger opponent. With the Sword of Right, as well as shield in hand, he stepped forward towards the circle of his troops and the Triumvirate being formed around the two of them. Activating his blade, he pointed it towards Ducifer, and took a defensive stance.

  Ducifer was a tank of a man. Armored from neck to toe, he forgoed using a shield. He had never really needed one before, Magnus imagined. Using a two handed long sword instead, he prided himself on his ability to crush any opponent he faced. Magnus thought back to the many televised exhibition fights Ducifer had starred in. None had turned out too pretty.

  With a smile, Ducifer charged his smaller foe, seemingly not taking him too seriously. He probably thought him a fool for taking the offer, for Ducifer had never lost a duel in his life. Then again, who would dare try to defeat the Crown Prince, when the power over life and death was his to command?

  Magnus knew he was not the best swordsman. In hand to hand combat, he was not the most skilled either. He calculated he had two advantages the false Prince would not take into account.

  The first was Magnus’ craftiness. Often, especially during his training at the academy, Magnus had defeated his sparring partners by being completely unpredictable. He accomplished this by proper timing and feints. Many a fellow cadet had charged out of the training room flustered that they had been thwarted in such a way.

  The second advantage was the fact that Magnus had lost. At the beginning of his training, he lost a lot. Unlike many, however, he refused to let it dishearten him. Failure, he realized, was the greatest of teachers. To know failure was to know how to take on many challenges. Success, without having ever failed, would lead to complacency. Magnus estimated that his opponent would have such a pitfall.

  With his biosuit enhancing his movements, Ducifer was nearly upon Magnus. He wanted the big brute to think he would either dodge, duck, or roll out of the way. Perhaps, even to stand his ground. Each option, with all its possibilities, would only lead to certain death. However, none of these things happened. What Magnus did, as he predicted, was completely unexpected by his foe.

  Getting his timing just right, Magnus slid through the big brute’s legs. Whilst doing so, he used his sword to cut the back of his knees, where no armor protected him. Magnus proved the old adage, “the bigger they are, the harder they fall,” as Ducifer fell flat on his face, sliding forward. The man screamed in pain, with the fight being over sooner than he had anticipated. Magnus put his blade to his enemy’s neck, and looked to the beaten man’s father. Azakar stewed in his rage.

  “It’s over, Azakar. I’ve won in fair combat. Surrender your forces, and your crown!” Magnus ordered.

  Before the old King could say a thing, a member of the King’s military staff burst through the doors. He looked panicked, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding before him. Everyone wondered what warranted such an interruption.

  “My King,” bowing to Magnus, “An enemy force has engaged our troops guarding the perimeter!”

  “The Kenzanites?” Gar asked.

  “No, sir. An unknown force. One we’ve never seen before!”

  “The Triumvirate rises!” Azakar roared in triumph, coughing uncontrollably soon afterwards.

  Magnus, his adrenaline still rushing, took a moment to process the information. It was unclear what he should do, given he had not been prepared for such an outcome. Lima rushed to his side, placing his hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

  “We need to support the army against the Triumvirate, or it will be too late for Paradign,” Lima suggested, granting clarity to Magnus’ decision making.

  “Then we must take the lead,” Magnus concluded.

  “My King, their forces outnumber us three to one! Without help, Paradign is finished!” the staff member relayed, looking slightly worried afterward that he had somehow overstepped.

  “Then we’ll just have to recruit ourselves some more help,” Magnus responded, walking back towards his mech.

  “From where?” Gar inquired. “There’s no army that can help us now!”

  “Of course there is,” Magnus retorted.

  “And what army would that be?” Gar asked.

  “The Royal Kenzanite Army.”

  *

  “So… no one is here?”

  “Not a soul. They left in a hurry, prisoners and all,” Red replied.

  “Blast!” Marriane roared, kicking over a chair in the Commander’s office.

  “Do we have any sign that Koga is still alive?” Maria asked.

  “None,” Red confirmed. “We found scratch marks on the roof, but no other signs he has been here beyond that.”

  “What do we do now?” Penny asked.

  “Well, are there any clues as to where they went?” Maria continued. “Anything to go off of?

  “None. R.U.D.E. has scanned every corner of this dung hole. They’re gone for good,” Red continued.

  “Then we need to head to Vult and aid Magnus,” Maria concluded.

  “And this is where we part ways,” Red replied.

  “Sure I can’t convince you to-” Maria began.

  “No,” Red interrupted, “I need to go.”

  “Well, then I-” Maria once again began, before being rudely cut off.

  “Goodbye,” Red replied, turning around and all but running back to her ship.

  Maria, slightly stunned, was beginning to understand. Red was conflicted, and confused. Being a part of their group had surely put her in a position where her former views were untenable. She was scared.

  “I hope you find yourself someday,” Maria whispered, looking at Red as she ran.

  “Who are you talking to?” Penny asked, looking at Maria in confusion.

  “Nobody,” Maria replied. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Fine by me,” Zenny responded. “This place gives me the creeps.”

  *

  Tulius was angered. Beyond angered. The enemy had forced his back. Now, their chaos could continue. After taking command of the main Triumvirate forces post the retreat, however, their chaos would soon end.

  The time was ripe to strike. His master could not have been more correct with his predictions. Now, finally, his patience would pay off, and bring about the result Tulius truly wanted to see. What he had longed to see since his journey in the Triumverate began. The icing to his cake was that he would be responsible for bringing it to fruition. He could not be more delighted if he had tried to be.

  Kenza had been pushing Paradign farther down the map for quite some time. It was no secret that the Southernmost nation was losing the war. Still, it was a Pyrrhic victory for the Kenzanites. Each side had suffered terribly, and was tired of the war. Tulius could sense their collective weakness. As the real fight began, both nations would soon lay on their backs like submissive dogs, more than ready to heel. They were too exhausted to do anything else. In the end, the Triumverate would always win. After all, they alone represented order.

  All he had ever wanted was order. Pristine, clean, undisturbed order. Yet, from a young age, all there had ever been around him was chaos. Undisciplined children in the lunch line. Coworkers who cut corners at every turn. Traffic that did not obey the simplest laws. Litter in the streets. So much chaos, all born from the undisciplined nature of fools. Chaos born from nature itself, even. And no matter what Tulius did, chaos, like a cancer, would continue to grow.

  Only the Triumvirate could kill it.

  “Status report,” Tulius asked Martzia.

  “Our forces have engaged the Kenzanites and the Paradignians with success. We’re overcoming them with minimal losses,” she replied informatively.

  “Good,” he replied excitedly. “And project J?gumangr?”

  “Our top scientists believe the prototype is ready should we need it in the future,” Martzia continued. “Overlord Thanator will be most pleased, I am sure.”

  Tulius grinned, standing from his chair aboard his new flagship: The Desecrator. Walking over to a nearby viewing port, he looked down at the conflict in satisfaction. Although chaotic, there was a certain satisfaction he felt when viewing it. Chaos would not be put down without a fight. Soon, the foundations of a new, clean, ordered galaxy could begin.