(TRC) Rhyme and reason-1
1.It was almost laughable how quickly things unraveled.
Five years on into the worst war in Celes’ history, yet another war broke erupted. To add on to the flames licking at the doorstep, the house itself was burning down. Metaphorically-and literally.
Prince Fai stood by the glass windows of his ‘classroom’ in the palace, watching the people in the streets burn flags, break shop windows, and generally cause mayhem. As he looked on, a man in a ragged black coat attempted to oush past the palace guards to storm the palace grounds. He quickly shut his eyes-there, the now-familiar sound of gunfire. When Fai opened his eyes again, the man was now merely a black mass in a red puddle, safely distant down on the cobbled, chaotic streets below.
“Your Highness?” There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. Fujitaka was trying to distract him, shepherding him back to his lessons and away from the violence outside. The tutor tapped him lightly again when there was no response.
“Alright,” Fai finally said, but stayed for a minute longer to see his breath fog up the glass, blocking out the rioters below.
2. Kurogane wasn’t sure if he should be sitting where he was-in a smoky, shady, grimy bar-listening to propaganda being trumpeted from the stage up front. The man had insisted that it was the ‘truth’, nothing more and nothing less, but Kurogane wasn’t so sure. In any case, it was cold outside, and he was practical enough to stay put. Too bad if any officials walked in, but he wasn’t about to freeze his ass off just for some stupid laws.
Up on the makeshift stage-an old box in reality-a man in a coat that had seen better days was shouting himself hoarse. “Comrades,” he bellowed, “we have suffered much these past few years, have we not?”
Those present looked suspiciously at each other before sullenly muttering agreement under their breath.
Undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm, the man continued. “And surely all of you know the cause of our pain, our misery!” He paused again to eye the uneasy crowd. “The king,” he hissed, “is the reason why thousands of our fellow countrymen lie dead in rotting fields, why our fathers, brothers, husbands have left us to die for this ridiculous war that has left us all bereft and starving.
“Just this morning, I saw a child licking at the ground for scraps of food, no better than the mongrel dog next to her. Is this what Celes has become
? A country fit for nothing but pompous barbarians like the king, who lords it over people who die at his feet? A wasteland for wretched, dying children?” The candle next to him flickered at the rising volume of his voice, casting a dim glow on his white hair. “Tell me, comrades, whose fault is this?”
The murmuring was louder this time, and someone was brave enough to shout, “The king! The bloody king!”
“Yes,” agreed the man, pleased to finally have garnered an angry response. “But let us not push all the blame to king, incompetent as he is. What about his wife-a woman who should by all rights be exiled back to the enemy country we fight now? And the slime she keeps by her side, Fei Wong Reed, brainwashing the king into decisions that benefit no one but his despicable self? They are equally at fault!”
“Kill Reed!”
“Hang him!”
“Execute the traitor queen!”
“Get rid of the king, overthrow him!”
Kurogane was growing uneasier with each outcry, aware that if anybody entered the room there and then, there would be no escaping. No one could possibly be stupid enough to mistake the crowd as anything else besides a potential rebellion, and he couldn’t possibly deny participation in this very illegal gathering. Guilty by association. His sense of self-preservation than outweighed his desire to keep warm, and he tried to stand up discreetly and make his escape-
He winced when his stool scraped shrilly against the icy floor, loud enough to have everyone’s attention immediately centered on him.
“Are you a supporter of the king, by any chance?” The man on the box called out to him, a layer of calm on his voice.
Kurogane mutely shook his head, inwardly swearing.
“Then why are you leaving, dear comrade? Don’t tell me you are still convinced by the ridiculous story that the king is the rightful ruler, because he is sent by God or what other religious fairytales.” The man snorted, as if scorning Kurogane’s intelligence. “Tell me, comrade, from what rock did you crawl out from? That you should be so woefully naïve?”
“…Suwa,” muttered Kurogane, mistaking the speaker’s rhetorical question for just a barbed, insulting inquiry.
But the speaker was amused, if anything. “Suwa? You mean the village that our dear king infamously left to rot at the enemy’s mercy, charred to cinders by bombs and devastated beyond recognition, because he was too busy entertaining his royal family and noble guests in the palace?”
Kurogane’s stomach gave a funny lurch. “What are you trying to say?” he growled. He had never been a fan of monarchy, but he had always figured that politics were none of his business. Until now.
“I’m saying, comrade,” continued the man, clearly enjoying himself, “that any family you had died because of our pathetic king’s inability to rule, to understand that his country is falling apart. He doesn’t care if our family dies, as long as his doesn’t. The tragedy of Suwa, of all the other countless dead and burning town and villages-the foolishness and selfishness of a king.”
Kurogane said nothing then, but sat down abruptly. What wouldn’t he give to strangle the king, he thought, suddenly feeling completely at home amongst the rebels and their ‘truth’-speaking leader.