Dodge: Serial 72

Ano attempts to solidify his authority over his soldiers as Losha draws closer to the Henron capital.

Serial 72: Coup in the captial

March 18th, 33 S.D.     09:19     Capital City, Henron

    Core Lead Ano Taksat walked briskly down a long hallway, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he made his way. Tailing him, an assistant Field Lead flipped through various notes on a clipboard. From time to time, the junior officer glanced up at his superior.

    “Ver Ano,” he started. “About last night’s report...”

    “Sa, sa,” the old man grumbled. “I know. 20 squads failed to follow a direct order, and a simple one at that. When I instruct which units are to be stationed where, I expect all ears to heed and obey. And the Range Lead responsible for those ingrates refused to punish this offense. To have come as far as I have, only to be surrounded by incompetence...” Ano growled to himself as they rounded a corner.

    “No more,” he spat. “It is not as if I am deaf to what this order says behind my back. I know they despise me for the most part. But their job, their duty, requires no ounce of friendliness from me. A soldier must follow their commands to the letter. It should not be necessary to remind them just who holds true authority here. Once they donned these uniforms, they gave me absolute control, barring Govan and Heigon themselves.”

    The Field Lead bit his lower lip and said nothing all the while. Eventually, they came upon a set of wooden doors. “This way, Core Lead,” his helper said, going ahead and opening one side for Ano.

    “Thank you, Field Lead,” Ano said with a brief nod. He clasped his hands behind his back and entered an expansive room.

    “I shall wait outside, Ver Ano,” The Field Lead assured him as he closed the door. However, as soon as it was shut, he breathed in deeply and turned around, retracing the path from before.

    Inside, a long, grand table sat in front of Ano. Lined up at the sides, dozens of his Range Leads and other senior staff presented themselves. They had already taken to their seats; in silence they’d been waiting for the Core Lead. All eyes looked to him as he appeared, though not a single greeting came his way. Ano took these as signs of compliance, that they were ready to begin.

    “Comrades, brothers and sisters alike,” he spoke aloud as he assumed his place at the head. “I have summoned you all here at a vital moment for a matter that is nothing short of severe.” Ano scooted in, propping his elbows up while he carefully steepled his fingers together.

    “We are at war, and on the verge of winning no less. Today marks Govan’s campaign against Sventa. No obstacle stands in our way. Victory, as such, is virtually granted to us. I know a number of you have not the slightest fondness for me. Let me just say I do not give a damn what you all think.” His lips curled into a conniving smile as he paused, looking several of them in the eye.

    “Some of you regard me with respect, fear, hostility, arrogance, mistrust. Whatever your views are, they remain utterly irrelevant. I am not here to be liked or loved. I am here to supervise the single strongest order ever known in Henron history. I am here to enforce Heigon’s will. Thus far I have tolerated a considerable amount defiance. Certain soldiers have elected to follow their own decisions, in contradiction with my own directives. This leeway comes to an end.” Ano took one fist, balling it up tightly as he raised it.

    “Any acts of insubordination will be met with the swiftest retribution from now on. Just as well, we must recognize it as a crime comparable to outright treason.” Ano’s staff exchanged glances quietly; their brows lifted high.

    “Much has been said in the past few days among these ranks, that some have called for my removal. All of that is the talk of traitors. The instant you become one with the Henron army, you vowed to adhere to its rules. That means my word is not up for debate. I expect you all to recall who runs this order, and by who’s rule I am granted such a right. Whether you favor me or not, whatever I say is practically law, so long as it does not infringe on the power of those above me. From this moment forth, everyone in this order is subject to my instructions or a court martial. Is this perfectly understood?”

    He tapped his index finger on the table several times, as if to clarify his point. No one spoke for a while; everyone bore serious, rigid expressions as they looked back at Ano. The Core Lead imagined that he’d gotten the message across. One Range Lead coughed briefly before responding.

    “Ver Ano,” he said. “You have made things abundantly clear to us. In the past few days, we have all had some doubts or misgivings about your leadership. However, as you said, we must maintain the regulations of this military. It is the life we have chosen and the way we must follow. Make no mistake, Core Lead, we fully recognize who you are and where our loyalty and faith must be placed.”

    “Excellent,” Ano smiled, leaning back in his chair. He’d obviously struck his intended mark.

    “That is why we are unanimous, Core Lead, in seeing you unfit for the duties bestowed upon you.”

    “What?!” Ano cried, lurching forward, slamming both palms on the table. “What is the shrieking meaning of this?”

    “Ano Taksat,” the same Range Lead continued, standing up and holding his hands behind his back. “You must remember that we soldiers in fact do not serve a single man or woman. We are bound to no figure, no lord. The only ones we honor are the people themselves, our brothers and sisters of Henron.”

    “Insolent vansel!” Ano hissed. “Are you saying you surpass Govan and Heigon? You would betray your own clan?”

    “What is a betrayal to our kind, Ano,” the Range Lead barked, “are your infernal and insufferable actions. We cannot turn a blind eye on what you did in Totul and the Ganglan Pass. When we joined the army, each of us vowed to uphold the Ordinal Oath. We swore to protect Henron from any threat, any dangers external or internal. You have made it apparent that your role as a commanding officer jeopardizes the lives of thousands and the overall safety of our clan members. To allow you to carry on would be a gross error that would stain our proud history indefinitely.”

    “B******s! One and all!” Ano roared. “This is pure mutiny!”

    “Mutiny? Ano, it is more than just that. What we have on our hands is a coup.”

    “A... coup? You mean...?”

    “It was by Heigon’s design that we arrived in this mess of a war. By his rule, Henron has faced nothing but decline. We serve the people, not Heigon. It is high time the course of Henron change.”

    Ano stood up; his hand snatched upon the hilt of his sword. “You would deny the rule of law? Just throw out the foundations of this clan?”

    “Perhaps we need to rebuild our clan. This most certainly puts us at odd with Heigon and his supporters, but this is a cause we are willing to back with our lives. After all, this is our choice as soldiers. Now, Ver Ano, I highly suggest you take today as an opportunity to evaluate an early retirement.”

    As soon as the Range Lead finished speaking, four armed soldiers cast open the doors behind Ano. Wielding sabers by their sides, they wore blackened uniforms that were otherwise identical to ordinary units. The dark color, however, signified their status as military police. An officer appeared behind them shortly after they entered.

    “Been a while, sa, Ano?” asked Range Lead Kal, Ano’s former lieutenant.

    “You! You should have been executed in Navaran by now!”

    “True enough,” Kal admitted. “But no one ever followed through on those orders. It seems to be a pattern concerning you. There is no need to conceal myself any longer. The same applies for you...” Kal looked over his shoulder, gazing at one last figure making an appearance.

    “Sa, sa, it feels good to be out of the country and back in the capital,” Tibil said as he walked in.

    “What is this now? Seeking to replace Heigon with an unproven upstart?” Ano sneered.

    “Shrieks...” Tibil breathed, frowning. “Already I find myself tired of this old fool. Ver Kal, need we keep him here any longer? I mean, he has no purpose in being here anymore, sa?”

    “Alright you lot, take him into custody. For good this time,” Kal commanded. They grabbed the Core Lead by the arms, practically dragging him along.

    “You shrieking imbeciles! You think Heigon will stand for this madness? He and Govan will crush you. You will be less than dust when he has his way. And I will see it all. I shall laugh upon your bones!” Everyone but looked at Ano as the police escorted him away forcefully. When his heckling vanished into the distance, Tibil turned around and nodded at Kal, then at the other officers.

    “I would like to thank you all for you help. Henron has fallen from its path, a situation we must rectify at once. In order to reclaim ourselves, we must abandon our old ways. The system of governance so long the pillar of Henron civil society - the all-powerful autocrat - must be abolished. From that, we will start anew.” All in the room shook there heads in agreement. “Let us get straight to business. There is yet work to do to see our goal come true.”



    “Get me a status report on the remaining prisoners, on the double! Move it people, move it!”

    The warden of Navaran hollered left and right as he made his way to his office. Around him, others scattered to and fro, rushing about. Their voices rang hurriedly with panic, yet their bodies moved purposefully. As the warden stepped over a fallen storage cabinet, bits of the ceiling crumbled down before him. He stopped for a moment, looking up at the fresh crack just above his head.

    “Shrieks,” he muttered to himself; bits of dust ejected from the fracture. “Vorun!” the warden called out. “Vorun, where are you?”

    A woman quickly emerged from a side room. Her usually tight hair-bun had come loose, replaced by a hasty, albeit messy ponytail. Vorun’s boots were badly scuffed, and a thick film of dirt covered her glasses. A single streak of grime ran across her left cheek.

    “Shrieks, Vorun, you look like hell,” the warden said. Vorun frowned slightly.

    “You are not in the best shape either,” she noted, pointing at the patch masking one side of his forehead.

    “Sa... sa...” he grumbled, touching the sore spot. “I need to know what just happened to us. Every last detail. What do you have?”

    “As you know, Losha, the Wolf of Sventa, made her escape. She fled the facility along with Core Lead Liveta, and another prisoner Alant. All of them were being held in East Wing Three. In the process, she managed to inflict serious damage on both personnel and property. In particular, we sustained heavy structural damage to sections of the third and second floor. Portions of the first floor no longer have exterior walls. No reported fatalities as of yet, however, our injured number in the hundreds. On-site medical staff estimates that over half of us took some kind of hit.”

    “D****t all...” the warden scowled as he turned to the side. “The Wolf of Sventa, she is no longer on these premises, correct?”

    “Sa.”

    “Where exactly was she headed?”

    “Based on what those in the watchtower witnessed, we believe she is making her way for the capital.”

    The warden threw his gaze to the ground. “Just terrific...” he glowered at his feet.

    “She and her accomplices were seen commandeering horses before racing off. At this rate, they will get to the capital by noon, if not sooner.”

    “Ano’s order is holding the capital right now, sa?”

    “Indeed,” Vorun said. “Warden, you... do you really think the Wolf will lay siege to the capital? Half of our combat strength lies within the city and the surrounding barracks. Would she really attack us like that? I mean, she is only one woman; she does not even have the support of her own military...”

    “Vorun, I do not even want to think about what happens next,” he sighed as he snapped his eyes up straight. “It only gets bad from here on out. With her record, and judging firsthand what she did to us, she will put Henron in a critical, vulnerable position no doubt. How did she escape anyway?”

    “She used serialization,” Vorun explained. The warden furrowed his brow in confusion.

    “What? Impossible. I have the only key to her shackles. I have it on myself this very instant even.”

    “She used serialization to remove her shackles...”

    The warden made a strange face as he pondered the paradox before him. However, with a long groan and toss of his head, he realized what she’d meant.

    “Ah, shrieks...” he said, pinching the skin above his nose. “D****t! She could serialize all along. And we were fools to her entire charade...” Lowly, the warden continued mumbling obscenities, though to whom remained unclear.

    “Fortunately, no one else was set free during Losha’s escape,” Vorun said, highlighting a small bit of positive news in an otherwise disastrous day. “I do not think, warden, that there was anything we reasonably could have done. We all heard the stories about her... Digressing, everything is in chaos at the moment. We are disoriented and uncertain. What are your orders?”

    The warden pointed at Vorun directly. “Get word out to Govan as soon as possible. By the time we dispatch a message to the capital, they will already know. I realize how important Govan’s campaign is, but if Losha gets a hold of the capital, we lose instantly. Even if Losha cannot win against Ano, she will do irreparable harm to our fighting capabilities. Get going, Vorun. I want the Prime Lead reading that missive before you even write it!”

    “Understood!” she said, saluting him sharply. Exiting the small room, Vorun turned and walked down the hall. The warden noted, however, that a slight limp affected her step. He frowned again, but he looked ahead of himself. They all had roles to fulfill here, and his was just beginning.



    The capital city of Henron stood some 70 kilometers west of Navaran, lying in the heart of the clan’s territory. Most of the earth stretching into the distance was dormant grasslands not yet woken from winter’s thrall. Here and there, Losha, Liveta, and Alant passed by towns or villages, but these were seen only in the background. They traveled alone and undisturbed. It certainly didn’t feel as if they were fleeing fugitives.

    For the first stretch of the journey, they had flown across the plains like lightning. Losha cast her speed-step series on all their horses, just like she and Izel had done to reach Leitis. They’d charged along, propelled by bursts of energy. From far away, it appeared as if they were running on pure light. Every time their steeds planted a hoof in the ground, a blue flash surged, sending them forward rapidly. About a third of the way there, however, Losha stopped to give herself some time to recover. She could have pushed herself further, but none of them really knew what they’d find in the capital. In case the insurrection didn’t go as planned, she wanted to have a large amount of seras to deal with any problems. For now, they trotted at an even pace towards their destination.

    “So,” Losha wondered. “What exactly is the name of your capital? I have never heard anyone mention it.”

    “Its name?” Liveta repeated, puzzled at the question. “It is just the capital, more formally called Capital City.”

    “Sa... Interesting. You mean it does not have its own title, like Sevia back in Sventa?”

    The Core Lead shook her head. “We find it rather strange that you would name your capital anything else,” the officer smiled. “Why call it a capital then if it has some other name to go by?”

    “I suppose that is how we are in the Central Plains,” Losha said, glancing up at the gray sky. “Each of us is different. But... I think we exaggerate these differences. That sort of behavior is what brought our two peoples to war, and it has spawned countless other conflicts...”

    Liveta looked at Losha for a second, then down at her horse. “You know, when I had occupied Valia, I often found myself staring out the window and into the streets. I kept thinking to myself how it did not feel as if I were somehow in a foreign world. It just... it felt like any other place.”

    Losha turned to the Core Lead and smiled. “You should come to Sventa when this is all over. Without your army, of course,” she laughed.

    Liveta gave a quick but uneasy look before averting her gaze. “I can tell you are serious about the matter, but do not be so naive. Something like that would never be allowed.”

    “Se? Why not?” Alant asked.

    “You too?” Liveta frowned. “Is it not so painfully obvious?”

    “Not particularly,” he shrugged. “If everything goes according to plan, Sventa will have had a major role in bringing about a new Henron, perhaps a Henron they can trust. Our ties as neighbors will still be strained, but there is the possibility of at least becoming neutral towards one another.”

    “You really think Sventa will throw themselves into our internal affairs? One way to end the war is to just let us fight amongst ourselves,” Liveta said.

    “I am here,” Losha said. “I do not know if the others will join me, but even if they do not, I should think I count for something now.”

    “I am aware of that, Ver Holvate,” Liveta sighed. “I suppose I am simply unsure that there can ever be a strong bond between our people. Do not mistake my words; I want the status quo to change. I just do not think the era we live in will allow it...”

    All at once, Losha stopped her horse in its tracks. Liveta and Alant halted a moment later, turning around to the serialist.

    “Losha?” Alant asked.

    “Let me tell you something, both of you, about the reason I am sitting here now. When I came home, when I arrived from Palostrol, I found my clan at war with yours. For years I had been removed from the Central Plains, safeguarded from its violence. While others may think nothing of it, to me I could only see a pointless struggle being waged. I abhorred the thought of conflict. At my school, there were many from the Central Plains, some who would have been my mortal enemy in another setting. But back there, none of it mattered; we did not even share our family names. To me there is no Sventa, no Henron, only Asten. We speak the same tongue, share the same culture and values, yet here we have given birth to endless rivalries.”

    “Everywhere I go, everyone I talk to, I keep hearing the same thing: this is just the way we are. But I do not accept that. I absolutely refute it. I told myself that I would cease this war as peacefully as I possibly could. In the time that I have fought, I also promised to reject our ways at every turn. Perhaps, in the past, we were simply too weak to change. Perhaps none of us had that kind of power.” She held her hand out in front of her, staring into her palm. Soon, her fingers curled up into a fist.

    “Now, however, there is no excuse. I do not care who or what says we have to be like this. The lifestyle of the Central Plains is wrong. If the times dictate how we live, I will fight against the times. Somehow, I am going to make sure we have something better than all this wretched bloodshed. It shall not happen immediately, but it will begin with me. The first order of business towards this goal is stopping this senseless battle between our clans and ensuring Henron’s future.”

    She nodded at Liveta and Alant before peering into the horizon. “I have said my piece. I still expect to see you both in Sventa one day. I expect to see you in Capital City even sooner.”

    With a whip of the reins, Losha and her horse bolted away, carried by a stream of speed-steps. Liveta and Alant quickly looked at one another before giving chase as well, trailing after the Wolf.

Author's Note

In the reaches of Aste, deep within the grasslands of the Central Plains, 14 warring clans mount constant warfare against one another. Through endless bloodshed, the people are forever rooted in a cycle of conflict. Returning to the place she once called home, Losha leaves Palostrol to go back to her family. Yet in their embrace she finds a world teetering on the brink of devestation. As King's words echo through her mind, she must decide if serialization holds the answers to peace. But are the consequences of failure are worth it? The path of the Continent's greatest struggle has only just begun. The Age of Serialization starts now.

The next installment comes May 27th, 2015. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

======

* After your boss tries to burn you alive, then bury you under a mountain of snow and ice, I think it's time to fire him :(

* Remember that Losha's personal philosophy is two-fold. On one level, she believes that all the Central Plains can live without the violence plaguing their lands. At another level, she believes serialization can be used without abuse, and that it can do more good than harm. These two ideaologies are not separate, and in fact intertwine frequently, both now and later.

======

Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.