Citizen Tales 3 – Witnessing (Patreon)

“And you are sure you want the green one?” Melissa asked her husband. She stood there, with the tie in her hand, waiting for the response.

“Am I?” Phillip responded, an eyebrow raised.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Are you?”

“To be completely clear: yes, I am, but you seem to be unhappy with that choice. So why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Melissa let out an annoyed groan. Five years ago, she would have demanded he kept guessing until he proved he understood her. Nowadays, she had accepted that, among the many good traits of her husband, good social skills were not one of them. “Go for the deep blue tie,” she told him. “This is the Fusion Festival, not the Green Festival.”

“Alright, fine.” Phillip surrendered to her reasoning and she quickly grabbed another one of his ties. Expertly, she put it on for him. She did this practically every morning, so it only took her ten seconds to give the tie a sharp looking knot. “You do this perfectly, like always.”

“Yep,” Melissa agreed and leaned up. The two exchanged a kiss. Their marriage wasn’t always easy. Oddly enough, their fights had become more frequent since they had joined Fusion. The safety just let the mind wander to all the less pressing concerns that accumulated when two people were raising children together in the Abyss. “Now, let’s pick my dress…”

“Shouldn’t you just go with the dark blue one?”

“We’d like look we’re going to a funeral.”

“Maybe you can bury your grudge against the President while we’re there.”

“Ha-ha,” Melissa remarked, drily. While checking the dozen dresses in her closet one after the other, the redheaded woman thought about her two daughters in the living room. Was she thankful to John Newman that those two got to go through puberty and reach adolescence without needing regular warnings about slavers? Absolutely. Would she have preferred it if the head of state wasn’t flaunting his polygyny so openly? Absolutely.

It set examples for the children that would take decent parents like her a long time to drive out of the minds of rebellious teenagers. Sure, the president looked to be a decent guy and she could acknowledge that he cared for all of his harem, but Melissa knew that most men were not built for what he had. Any kind of normalization of polygyny and she just knew that single motherhood would spike in the next generation. There would be guys that just used the premise of a harem for constant sex with different girls and girls that thought they were fine with it until they realized they weren’t.

As far as she was concerned, it would be much better if there wasn’t a role model that advertised to people that this was a successful lifestyle to emulate. To the Gamer’s credit, he did try to warn people that not everyone could have what he had. Melissa just would have preferred if he doubled that up by keeping his public displays of multi-women affection to a minimum.

‘Can’t have everything,’ she told herself. This was a major point of concern regarding public morals, but she knew she could instill the proper caution into her kids with enough elbow grease. In the current paradigm, she had the time to really take care of them. A massive pervert was still a better role model for success than the slavers, the crime lords, or the corrupt politicians they had been used to from the Little Maryland.

Indeed, Melissa and her husband had been from the outskirts of that guild. They had moved to the Hudson Barrier and to the Guild Hall shortly thereafter. The reason being that Phillip had worked for a company that he later found out was owned by Scarlett Thorne. A surprise, to be sure. One that came with a growing salary.

“You think this one looks good on me?” Melissa asked and held up a red dress.

Phillip gave it a short pause, actually thought about it, and then responded with an earnest, “Yes.”

That made her hum, pleased. Sometimes her husband did show that honest decisiveness that she liked so much. She put on the red dress and they made it out of the spacious bedroom.

They entered an equally outstanding living room. The dark wood furniture was polished (she did take care of that) and it smelled of pine needles. There was a large couch, a door to a balcony, a half-open kitchen, a hallway to the children’s rooms, and a lot of space they currently filled with the luxuries of upper class life. The best thing about a house in the Residential District was, in Melissa’s opinion, that they could rearrange the walls in a week, if they were so inclined. They just needed to get to the local government, fill out a form for redesign, vacate the premises for an hour, and then they would come back to see their apartment shifted around.

They had not taken the offer so far. It was nice to know they could, though. If they managed to get a third baby on the way, then they would maybe have to.

Their current two daughters, aged thirteen and twelve, were watching some kind of anime on the TV. The older sister had recently discovered that stuff because the First Lady talked about it. Fundamentally okay. She didn’t mind the anime, it was just as juvenile as entertainment she had seen around their age. Them getting around the safe-search on their browsers and finding certain unsavoury interviews of the First Lady, that was a much greater concern.

‘Just need to keep internet access regulated for a few more years,’ Melissa thought. “Alright, girls, let’s go.”

The two girls shut off the TV and went along with their mother’s wishes with ease. Melissa often heard that modern parents had issues with disobedient children. Those parents should try protecting their daughters from a cruel world that would quite literally eat them alive if no one watched for them. Maybe the disobedience was the better alternative.

Even though she followed along, the older daughter did have to ask, “Why are we going out there when we can just watch the speech on TV?”

“Because it’s better to witness things in person, sweetie,” Melissa said and looked to Phillip for support.

Her husband nodded supportively. “After today, tens of thousands of people will be able to say they witnessed the first anniversary of Fusion, but only a few thousand can say they were there.”

“It’s just a speech,” the older daughter said with the irreverence of the young.

“Maybe it’s just a speech. Maybe it will change your life,” Phillip told her. “You’d be surprised how easy that can happen to girls your age.”

‘Not the best thing to say,’ Melissa criticized her husband in her head. Easiest way to get a pubescent girl to act up was to tell her she was too young to understand something. That it was true didn’t matter because they were too young to understand that they were too young to understand. She kept the comment to herself, not wanting to have a fight in front of the kids. “Come here.” Melissa offered her hand.

Her younger daughter took it; the younger offered her hand to the older, who took it in turn and then finished the link by holding onto her father. Maybe they weren’t a perfect family, definitely they lived in a flawed world, neither of that had to stop them from being happy. “Hold on tight!” Phillip warned, before his magic took effect.

Melissa pulled up with superhuman strength and soon the two daughters swayed back and forth as if they were sitting on a large swing, moved by magical winds. The parents smiled at each other, while their daughters giggled heart-warmingly. Here and there, Melissa caught the annoyed gazes of single people, who doubtlessly thought the four of them were being noisy and blocked the road. As a mother, she was fine with being selfish in a way that made the rest of her family happy.

Plus, the walkways were broad enough that everyone could move around them.

Eventually, her husband’s magic waned and carrying her children like this became impossible. The daughters hit the ground walking, so well used to the limitations of their father. The older one had already shown her own Innate Ability in regards to the wind, the younger had not shown any talent yet. Whether that was good or bad was so hard to judge in the Abyss. A little over a year ago, it would have been terrible. Latebloomers rarely got to manifest their abilities, most of them were taken out or crippled long before they got to realize their potential. This was different now.

‘More likely she has none though,’ Melissa thought. Latebloomers were rare, very rare, and it was the safer bet to assume she wasn’t talented in any overt way. Another thing she had been terribly worried about last year. What had been a guarantee for a life at the behest of more powerful individuals now was most likely only an issue in terms of how far she could advance in certain fields. The older daughter often said she wanted to join the military these days. Melissa found that worthy of support, although she guessed that was just a tomboyish phase.

They passed and were passed by several other families, most of which they knew. A fair amount of the residents had opted to spare themselves the dense crowd gathering by the main stage. Instead, they were grilling and lounging under the much less frequented screens used for the public viewing of the speech. Currently, they only showed the Fusion emblem. An animation was playing steadily, of the symbol turning in unsteady intervals, showcasing the simplified and the proper version of its design.

Walking past the Green Greens (a video game reference, as she had been informed by her husband), and over the bridge was almost like passing into another Illusion Barrier. The attendance had been incredible yesterday; today it was positively massive. It was the first time in Melissa’s lifetime that she found the streets inside an Illusion Barrier to be as crowded as those inside a mundane capital. They actually had to break up their chain at that point. Both mother and father picked up one of their daughters and carried them through the crowd, fearing they might lose them in the chaos.

They became part of the stream. Everyone was moving towards the centre of the Commercial District. The large, green area there had been, as far as Melissa knew, kept clear of any shops. A good decision because it wasn’t overly crowded by visitors to start with. “Huh, would you look at that,” Phillip spoke up and pointed her towards a sign. It spelled out: ‘Viewing area for residents.

“We get our own little corner of the field, how nice,” Melissa hummed. Following the direction of the sign immediately thinned out the crowd. When they got to the actual clearing, the people dispersed further. The stage had been erected at the east side of the circular pond at the dead-centre of the district. It was the usual position for these activities, putting the pretty stereotypical stage to a backdrop of the Statue of Liberty. In addition to the structures Melissa was used to seeing, there were eight raised platforms that encircled the area like the viewing stands of an arena. One of them was the area for residents.

A silver-clad knight stood in front of the entrance gate to the viewing stand. Confidently, the family walked towards and then past the Sentinel Golem. “How did it know we live here?” the younger daughter asked.

“It’s part of the Guild Hall, sweetie,” Melissa explained with a smile. “It just knows instinctively who is registered and who isn’t.”

There were no assigned seats and finding one was luckily not too difficult. The other viewing stands, whether they were given to people who paid or who just came early, were packed. The residential one, courtesy of the laziness of many of their neighbours, was only about three-quarters full. That was fortuitous for the family of four, who found a place where all of them could sit in a row. Even if they were further away from the stage than most, the raised angle more than made up for it.

They were thirty minutes early and the field before them was already packed. That only worsened further as time progressed. “Gaia, I’m so thankful we’re not down there.”

“You can thank my job,” Phillip told her, across their kids.

Melissa gave him a broad smile and a nod. He did work hard and she respected that – although that was not an excuse for leaving the toilet seat up all the time. Plus, what he did now, testing the durability of military equipment, was a lot easier work than his previous occupation: making sure no one invaded their home.

Before she could return her mind to those awful times, Melissa’s eyes caught movement in the sky. Recognizing the chancellor was pretty easy, same with the Gamer’s air and fire elementals. The dark-feathered harpy, however, she did not recognize. Was this the Nightingale she had read about in the newspaper? She could barely ask herself the question over the loud applause all around.

The women landed on the stage and joined the ranks of the entirety of John Newman’s harem. All of his harem minus the foreign queen, it should be said. Melissa felt the annoyance rise in her again. Did he have to parade his lifestyle so much? The women formed a crowd behind John Newman, as he stepped up to the wooden podium. He wasn’t even wearing a tie. There was much Melissa would have loved to say about the way he presented himself.

Melissa’s eyes were fixed to one of the many screens, showing the president as he orderly placed down a stack of papers. Going by previous speeches, he wouldn’t look down at them a single time. At least his body language was worthy of a proper ruler.

Just as the president was about to start his speech, the cheers in the crowd rose up in a second wave. “Fusion! Fusion! Fusion! Fusion!” the crowd chanted. Phillip tuned in, stomping in the rhythm of the clapping crowd. Many of the people around did as well, including their daughters. Melissa let them. Personally, she found such chants rather awkward.

“Alright, alright,” the amused voice of John Newman eventually rang through the speakers. “Settle down, I’m as happy about this day as you are, but I do have a speech to get through, so you can all get back to eating good food.” There were enough chuckles around to fill the air with joy. The good mood made room for a solemn one, when the Gamer’s expression became serious. He stared into the camera, into the hearts of the crowd. Plain as he looked, he knew what to do to have people hang on his lips.

“A year ago, on the roof of what is now once again known as the Thorne Headquarters, I declared that the guild I lead, Collide, would expand as a Federation, not as a force of conquest. I told the world not to underestimate us, and I think I have delivered quite well on that goal.” A quick rise of cheers was swiftly quelled by the Gamer raising his hand. “There will be time for applause later,” he promised with a soft smile, then continued in the serious tone.

“Many, most likely most, of you present here today will have joined Fusion after that announcement. Many, most likely most, will have joined by Fusion taking the land from the hands of local criminals, slavers, or similarly awful individuals. I pledged Fusion to be a force for good and sometimes doing the right thing requires violence. To remain pacifist at all times is to be neutered in the face of injustice. To be just, one has to use force and one has to know when to stop using force and to extend a hand.

“That was demonstrated no better to me than during Fusion’s… I would not blame you to call it a takeover of the Little Maryland. Neighbours, brethren in having a republican government, and a position of culture important to my mundane upbringing, the Little Maryland was all three of these. It was natural to seek out ties with them. I had my misgivings with the way Abraham ran his nation and sought to rectify them in the most bloodless way possible. Both I and Abraham were tricked, and although we had plenty of reason to despise each other by that point, he saved my life – and I will forever honour his. Let’s take a minute, for the fallen of that conflict…”

John Newman closed his eyes at that moment and Melissa realized only after ten seconds how gravely quiet it was in the Guild Hall. The speech was being broadcast everywhere. It was a long minute, during which Melissa mostly looked down at her hands. Finally, the President took a deep breath.

“Fusion found itself in a precarious situation in the aftermath. I was weakened, our forces were weakened, a large threat was still out at large, and the Lake Alliance had declared war on us. It was then that the Hidden Tradition reached out, in friendship, warding off a bloody conflict with its influence and joining the Federation of their own accord, ready to commit themselves to the vision of a unified North America. These native people, who have suffered historical hardship like few others, came to extend their aid and for that they, too, will have my eternal respect

“With their help, we saw to it that Sigmund was punished for his deeds, although he sadly escaped.” John Newman paused there for just a little longer than a standard breath. No one had to ask why. He had plenty of reason to be enraged and Melissa hoped that a large part of it was the blood of the people on Sigmund’s hands, not just the robbing of the Gamer’s eyesight.

“Fusion’s footing was firmer after that,” John Newman continued. “Rapidly, we expanded afterwards. What was known as the Small Lake Pact was integrated as the North Lake state. We struck an accord with the American-Canadian Trade guild, and formed the Amaca Coast. Shortly thereafter, with only one true and thankfully swift battle fought, we made peace with the Lake Alliance. We pacified the lands to the south over the course of several months, creating the two Meltpot states. Before we finished that project, we also were joined by Florida after a… rather odd series of negotiations.”

That comment introduced some levity in the current situation. Melissa felt a sigh of relief make its way up and she wasn’t the only one. The continuous, brooding tone of the recollection did not match the fanfare she had expected to hear today.

“Shortly after that, we had the first meeting of parliament. A historic day, properly demarking when Fusion lived up to its promise of delivering the primary law-making power into the hands of you, the people. A process that I continue to hope will be met with respect and care for all involved in it.

“Afterwards, Fusion, now the de-facto power of the region, found itself involved in the disastrous dissolution of the Gestalt guilds. Utterly corrupted by the Lorylim, a process made easy by the choices they made to surrender their individuality, they became a terrible threat to us all that we, luckily, snuffed out in its conception.

“Good news followed bad news. The leaders of the many small guilds decided to join us peacefully, earning their state’s name Pacificia.” John took a pause and looked down on his papers. “It was a joyous occasion that I wished I could say more about.” He raised his eyes again. “Perhaps it is good that it was so simply resolved that there is nothing more to tell.

“We entered New Libraria, for many reasons, and found a conflict between their demonic forces and the knights of the Order of the Golden Rose. A short, but noteworthy, altercation. A prelude to what would come later.

“Before diplomacy between our guilds could properly begin, we were struck by an attack by the crisis of that time. The Death Zone, long a mystery on this continent, expanded and revealed itself to be the work of a corrupted god, eager to rend flesh and rip apart the very essence of the peace we have striven to build. In that, he was thwarted, at a loss of life once more.

“It is in that conflict that Fusion found its true character. One where ordinary people and soldiers take the greatest burden they can shoulder and where the leadership does not back down from danger merely because their lives may be important. I have spoken at length of Mark before, the one soldier that I met, the man who died a hero, and the countless others who made the same sacrifice as he did. I hereby announce that all those that died for Fusion during that crisis will be awarded with a new military honour created for them and that all that receive that honour in the future shall know that Fusion regards them to be heroes just like them. We shall call it the Mark of Heroism and it will be the highest honour we may bestow.”

John Newman was forced to take a pause when the crowd exploded into agreeing cheer. Melissa herself, who had lost a sister during that conflict, instinctively joined them. For a solid thirty seconds, the entirety of the area was filled with jubilation, denoting the joy of the survivors, the agreement of the honours, and the respect for the fallen. At least that was what Melissa felt.

“Reminded of the horrors out there, the Lake Alliance asked to be admitted into the Federation. After short negotiations, we agreed. For all of our differences, for all of our worries, let us not forget that there is an enemy of life that has had time to fester in the corners of this continent. Let us not forget that we share a common humanity, a sapience, a call to be fruitful and multiply, and that all of that unites us more than any cultural differences ever could. For all the difficulties Fusion had with the Lake Alliance and the Lake Alliance with Fusion, let us forgive and let us have them fade, let the Lake Alliance be a part of Fusion and let us move stronger together into the future!”

This time, Melissa knew the cheers were planned. This time, she did not participate. The Lake Alliance’s attack on the Hudson Barrier had reminded her of the awful times that Fusion let them leave behind. That was not easily forgiven. The best Melissa could do was not to pass that grudge on to her children.

“From there, Fusion saw its largest expansion yet. In a series of small games and through reasonable negotiations, William Brighton and I found an agreeable way to see the Order of the Golden Rose and its vast territory integrated into the Federation. We gained the states of the West Crest, East Crest, Bulwark and Wardenshield, the Argent Lake, Ladysland, Roseshield and finally… New Brighton…”

‘…Do I hear contempt?’ Melissa wondered. The speech moved on before she could be certain of that.

“The Golden Rose was given a semi-autonomous territory and thus we reach the current state of the Federation. 20 member guilds, 2 military zones, and 1 autonomous territory. The land that Fusion holds shall not know the chaos and uncertainty that marked the rule of the small, petty criminals and slavers. It shall not know threats from its neighbours. It shall know prosperity and trade and the rule of law. Fusion has pledged itself to a mission, to see the world be made a better place by its value, to have people be given the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Fusion has created the environment for jobs and innovation, bound together a military might that even the world powers have to respect, and continuously grows from the ingenuity of you, the people, who no longer have to fear for the next day.

“To all of you, I say thank you! Thank you for showing me that my dream of a better world can be made reality. Thank you for making my work worthwhile and fulfilling. Even when the days are long and the stress overwhelms me, I will know in the faces of those that I meet in the street that it is all worth it. To one year of Fusion, that it may continue for as long as it serves the public interest!”

The crowd erupted into the loudest cheer yet. Many chants were started, none managed to gain the dominance over the excited crowd, and so the words all surrendered to the cacophonic noise of thousands of people letting their joy be known.

And thus the festival started in earnest.