Chapter LXXVII – We the plotters. (Patreon)

(It’ll take a month for a cable to arrive so that my computer can be fixed. No title cards until then.)

55th of Summer, 5859
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Sunlight shined through a stained glass window, making an impression on the table below while dust danced under it. Depicted on the window was a simple scene – divine light at top shining down on a man who held a scepter and wore a crown. Such divine light was reserved for one man of course, with the rest of the peasants in the scene having to suffice with sunlight to toil under. Thus the world had been made, for earth for the peasants to stand on and peasants for the big man at top to stand on.

It was this scene that an old man was appreciating. His forehead was barren and wrinkled, so was his face, yet he had determination on that old face. Not the determination akin to that found in a hero, but a determination akin to that found in a rat going through the tightest of spaces to escape and prolong its life no matter what.

To the outside observer however, this man was far away from a rat. He was a well-bred well-dressed bloke, a gentleman, an intellectual. A man of certain taste in architecture, the type to pause to appreciate a stained glass window. The type to make plans to rebuild the building he inhabited in his image. Forget the building, he’d rebuild the entire city that the building was in. He would build, rebuild, and rebuild some more, until there was nothing to do but re-rebuild. A utopia, yes, he’d make a utopia out of these ignoramuses.

“Spear, are you staring at walls again?” It was the voice of a younger man, coming out of the shadows to be enlightened under the stained glass. He was much well-dressed than Spear, though not as well-dressed as he could be if he had to. There was no need to dress fancily while in one’s home.

“I was just pondering, my Leader.” replied Spear, clapping his boots together. He had readied himself to give a salute that he didn’t need to give, and the clap of the boots awkwardly echoed throughout the corridor.

“As you always do.” The man beckoned Spear to follow him. He seemed to be going nowhere in particular. “What is it that you were pondering?”

“Architecture. I was thinking on how I could rebuilt the capital.” Spear inspected the brick walls and marble floors of the room while following the man. “Everything here is so different. I’ve had to rethink how I can realize my projects with the limited resources in Gemeinplatz.” Spear couldn’t help but stifle a laughter upon saying “Gemeinplatz”. It was such a silly and nonsensical name if one knew what the two words composing it meant. “Still, I have many things planned if I am to ever receive approval and a proper budget.”

“We could do many things if we were to only receive a proper budget.” The man sighed. “Yet, the only thing that the noblemen do is bicker amongst themselves. Such a sad state of affairs, isn’t it? How did you manage to deal with such things back home?”

“We shot anyone who complained. Even better, we apprehended dissenters and made them labor for our grand projects.” Such irony delighted both of them equally, so much so that they were laughing wholeheartedly.

“Oh, only if I could do that, Spear. Only if I could…” The man slumped his shoulders, looking all dejected. “I could, but then I’d find my head rolling on these floors.”

“That won’t do, would it? No, it wouldn’t. It won’t do, my Leader. It shouldn’t. You shouldn’t give yourself in to these traitors. You are the leader. You have all the right to drive anyone away who dares go against your will. One will. One realm. One leader. Not many wills fighting each other.”

Spear’s words seemed to mesmerize the man, who had walked a great distance without even thinking. Thankfully they had more than enough space to loiter around all they wanted all day long. “Yes, to move this fractured realm into greatness to… to… to unite all under me. To move to an era of peace where the realm shan’t bicker with itself.”

“Yes, that’s most beneficial for the folk of the realm.” replied Spear. “To submit to the will of an absolute and wise ruler, that is what’s beneficial to everyone.”

“Wise words as always, Spear.” With all the talk they had done a whole lot of walk, ending up in front of Spear’s office. “Only if every one of my vassals were as amicable…”

Spear put a hand on the man’s shoulders. Opposed to his own clean-shaven face, the young man in front of him had the beginning of a beard as if he was trying to compensate for his lack of age. His eyes were all focused on Spear, listening to his trusted advisor intently. Spear had learned how effective a good, deep stare into another’s eyes were from his former leader. The kid in front of him had none of that, no charisma, no wisdom, no experience in leadership… One could see that from how he completely trusted the political adversary right in front of him. The young man was ready to be molded like putty by Spear. “That’ll change soon, my Leader. Have you heard the news coming from the west?”

The young man shook his head. “There are many news coming every day from everywhere. I cannot keep track of them all.”

“That’s why I’m your steward. Ever since I was summoned to Gemeinplatz, keeping track of all this has been my only job.” Spear cleared his throat, and looked around him to make sure nobody was around to listen. The corridor leading to his office was empty. “A group of lords in Casamonu over concerns of a slave rebellion, which materialized in a border town.” Azdavay was so insignificant that its name had been lost travelling through the grapevine. “Your other ministers are trying to keep this news from leaking fearing that it might spread panic, but they likely won’t be able to hold back the rumors once the first wave of refugees arrive… especially as I’ve hired a few people to make sure that this leaks out to the general public.”

The young man was perplexed by the last part. “Spread panic? Why?”

Spear simply laughed at the naïve question. “Excuse me… Ahem. It’s simple: Panic is a tool, a tool that can be efficiently wielded to gain power. My previous Leader had his men burn down the diet, a type of royal court on Örf, controlled by his own allies. Then he publicly blamed his enemies for the attack and he simply purged them for the good of the realm. Of course, there’s no need to actually set fire to anything for this to work. As long as the folk is scared enough…”

“…I- I get it.”

“Good. Just follow my advice; it’ll be obvious when the time comes.” Spear let go of the young man’s shoulder. “Now, my Leader… Or, should I call you Your Imperial Majesty? Your Imperial Majesty, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend to as your faithful steward.”

The Emperor nodded in approval to Spear’s request, and they parted ways as Spear entered his office. It was an office quite unlike any other in Gemeinplatz, being quite plain and utilitarian. There was a desk for Spear to work on with a set of filing cabinets next to it, and another larger table for him to use for planning. That large table had a pretty big plan on it: A city model lovingly handcrafted by Spear. Simple, symmetrical buildings made of marble, granite and concrete. Plenty of triumphal arcs, grand pillars, and a grand hall in the middle with an enormous dome that’d need the work of several wizards to hold it up.

Spear watched his magnificent model city from above. He had unfinished business, a business which he’d finish here: to build the perfect city. For that, he needed to build the foundation of a perfect state for his perfect city to stand on, and to build that perfect state he’d need to do something other than look at this model all day. He turned back to his desk to do some work only to notice that somebody had made a delivery on his desk. It was a nameplate with Spear’s name and title on it. He disliked how his surname had been mispronounced in Gemeinplatz, but he had to make do with the people here:

SIR ALBERT SPEAR OF MANNHEIM
Imperial Architect and Steward of Gemeinplatz

The old man turned the nameplate to face the door and got back to work…