The Bloody Chateau

Olev Sarkwrath joins a mass demonstration at the Chateau De Ordinis, protesting President Roony to allow Fredrick Krauser to run as a presidential candidate.

Chateau De Ordinis, Ordinis District

 

Beauty is dangerous, the thorn of a rose could make you bleed just as easily as it could make you cry. The blue sun rose above the waters of Three Kings Bay, just like any summer morning. Olev Sarkwrath glimmered in the sunlight, pleased to stand tall on this day of historic justice. Alongside his red hearted daughter, Ally was a chip off the old block. She had only been to the capital a few times, she was always in awe seeing the massive buildings and dominating skyline. Every time a Sarkwrath visited Ordinis, something new and exciting revealed itself. A breathtaking chapel, an Imperial mural, or a marvelous street performance. The first time Ally had seen the capital she was a mere babe. Back when the Sarkwrath family attended the Ordinis theatre and subsequent lounges. Miss those simple times. Today Ally traveled as far east as she ever had, towards the golden Chateau. The Chateau De Ordinis, where the most powerful man on the planet resided. Golden and majestic, the reflection of the Chateau danced on the balmy waters of Three Kings Bay.

 

Sing o Reffeldian princess, shame to the scum who sit upon thrones…

 

               Ally and Olev marched in formation, dressed in cultural Reffeldian outfits. Crimson colors, Ally’s sleeveless dress reached her ankles and was worn overtop a white blouse. She was a young freckled thing with auburn hair, barely a lady. Olev stood beside her, white bearded and jolly.  Olev had similar colors and patterns on his outfit. On special days he wore the same outfit during his farm work, days which were filled with prayer as well as sowing the fields. Olev was reciting poetry, the first was a ballad written by the very person they were marching to protest. President Ronald Carr was a uniquely witty figure, but a horribly dangerous politician. That was how Olev put it, a treacherous duality of ambition and charisma. A rooster amongst ancient birds. He would cut the wing of holy Agnoara if it would feather his own nest.

 

Olev knew his history well, just like any well taught Reffeldian. The president had led a so called revolution eight years ago. Deposing the centuries old House Rurik, the former residents of the Chateau. The lavish glimmering palace which sat twenty miles east of the capital. An aristocratic design with marble pillars and fancy hedge work. Rather distinct from the highly advanced capital. Olev had never seen it in person, only in paintings or history books .Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses frequented the residence for centuries. Today they continued to do so, sharing tea with the so called president. Glorified toad, Olev groaned. The president of course had a royal lineage, going back centuries as well. His claim to the chateau was seen as vengeful and resentful of Reffelda’s history. Eons ago, the chateau had in fact been the architectural dream of Ronald’s ancestor, the withering white lion. Not only that, but the former royal family were responsible for taking the head of Alfred Marcus Carr. The former governor of Novaya, and the president’s father. Nothing but hate in that one’s heart, not an ounce of liberty. Olev mumbled once more, chewing on an old cigar as they marched. Roony, was a very upbeat persona, despite his hateful heart. At a time being a known theatre actor in Ordinis. Laura enjoyed his work…for a time. Olev recalled a time they had watched the president on stage, back when he was a heartthrob of Ordinis. To most today he was nothing more than a foolish toad, destroying the country he claimed to be reconstructing from dust. Those loyal to the true Reffelda plotted against him in secret. The hardened patriots who lived along the Glavna River were being disgraced and humiliated. Militant types loyal to the old imperium began rising up in the mountains, pesky radicals joining hands along the riverside. Trouble seemed to be creeping in every corner of Reffelda…

 

Olev was one of such Reffeldians that chose to fight for his rights, against famine, death, pestilence and war. Olev was a resident of the farming city of Cristvoske, residing in his family ranch with his daughter Ally. Her mother died not long ago. Olev remembered that often, famine had been sweeping through the river villages. For Olev, he was used to death. Tragedy had struck Olev at the age of ten, losing his mother and two elder sisters in a horrendous earthquake chain. A short twelve years later he was drafted in the army, along with his father Stepan. The two looked out for one another, Olev learned a lot during those years in the service. Sadly Stepan had died in combat, just before the two were marked to finish their tour. I met Laura not long after…she rescued me in so many ways. The passing of Laura hit differently, a tragedy to end all tragedies. If not for Ally, Olev wondered if he’d of been able to stand on both feet anymore. He’d never forgive those he deemed responsible for Laura’s death, responsible for the famine which was devastating the region. Fredrick…lead us out of this nightmare, fight Roony. Olev hissed some smoke, looking ahead of the pack. Fredrick Krauser was at the helm, the Commander of the Ordinis District and presidential candidate for the Reffelda First Party.

 

Crowds upon crowds were expected to attend this event. Flags from all corners of Reffelda were present, the downtrodden of Ordinis, the frostbitten Khuvash peoples, the proud warriors from Tsaraya, the oppressed Tortov masses, Sheidish compatriots, occupied peoples of Novaya and even the tribes from Rokazure were here. Though most flew flags from the Glavna Region. As well as portraits of loved ones recently lost…the bitter famine had taken many. Ally was holding a framed portrait of her mother Laura, young and lively as Olev remembered her. Even now he pictured her as if she were that lovely girl he met at university. After graduation Laura wrote catalogues about Reffeldian foliage. She brightened their home with beautiful Alexevkian Lilies and Cristgorod Carnations. Ally does the same…though they seem to wilt. Olev cracked a grin, happy that Ally was carrying the tradition with her. Reffelda without Roony, Reffelda without Roony, Reffelda without Roony.

 

The columns marched in formation, repeating their defiance of the president. Just like Olev, everyone here remembered a time when Roony wasn’t the head of state. When the banner of the Great People’s Imperium of Reffelda flew over the citadel. Over the course of eight years a once thriving empire was reduced to a laughing stock. Reffelda’s territory was cut in half, fear of further separatism was ripe. Olev understood why…the country was diseased, with a foolish worm standing as helmsman. Olev didn’t wish for the country to disintegrate, he wanted a way out. He wanted to see Fredrick Krauser elected president. He was meant to run in the upcoming race for presidency of The Republic. But for unknown reasons he was banned to run. This is why we stand tall today…ever defiant. Fredrick worked as the Commander of the Ordinis District, in fact he was the third most powerful man in the country. From the farms of Cristvoske to the oil fields of Ukrassa, the port of Wallachious to the metropolis of Ordinis. Fredrick was responsible for hundreds of millions of Reffeldians. However…rather than wear Republic colors, or a bureaucratic suit, Fredrick wore his Imperial uniform today. Just as he did when he served the old royal family. Several medals were on his uniform, as well as a stylish red ribbon. A black leather coat reached his knees. The crest of the old House Rurik was blazoned on his officer’s cap. The Obsidian Crown overlooked the blue sun, star dust trickled over a black bird. At the center of the sigil was Great Rurik riding horseback and slaying the great foe, a blue background fell behind that depiction. It shined proudly in defiance of the ailing regime of The Republic. Fredrick…we need you to show true strength. Olev respected Fredrick. But like many criticized him for his inaction these last eight years. Rather than take a hard line against the president. Fredrick chose peaceful resistance. There was merit in that...but Olev felt enough was enough, they needed to take a stand. Maybe this is the first step, Olev thought with hope. Olev watched from the crowd, wondering where Zhenkov and Dragomirov were. Those two were also founding members of their revolutionary party, but chose not to attend this event. They’d prefer to fight with the sword than with a pen. Olev knew there was this disparity in the movement, militancy and pacifism. Olev still wasn’t sure what side of the fence he was on. At the very least, Olev knew Fredrick could lead them out of this nightmare. Today their demonstration would present a petition to President Roony. Calling for various social and economic changes and allowing for Fredrick to run for President in the upcoming elections.

 

During the start of this march of justice, Olev recalled moments when revolutionaries had risen against the bestial oligarchic regime of Ordinis. These past eight years...three times. Three times a disproportionate amount of revolutionaries had rallied against an impossible task. And three times they were repelled. There was the spontaneous rallies in Ordinis, immediately after the blue flag had first risen over the citadel. Then there was the Oil Worker Strikes eight years back, Wallachious had never been so bloody. Not since the days of Draga and the old Bear Kings. The third…Olev recalled the riots in Agnoorgrad. Though few were brave enough to speak of those days, or risk being silenced by the police. Olev tightened his jaw, refusing to be silenced today.

Looking over to his daughter…Olev shivered with determination. She had so much ahead of her, Olev wanted that time to be filled with happiness. The last eight years were tough for many. Olev counted himself lucky to have a decent trade, able to bring his family up the same way. Despite the turmoil, common folk like Olev made the best of it. Olev filled his days with honest farm work and revolutionary pursuits in Cristvoske. Preaching in the workshop, singing songs of country, and constant reading. Olev was a well-read man. Not letting a single hour pass without the musty innards of a book reaching his nose. The latest was a poetry collection of various Reffeldian writers. To Olev’s displeasure Roony was included in the publication, but nonetheless admitted he had his place in Reffeldian history. That’s where we best leave him. Olev reflected with repugnance.

 

“Olev, mind grabbing the end of this?” Olev heard the voice of young Dustin Bronstein, wild haired and boyish eyes behind spectacles Olev knew his father from way back. He had been upset to hear of his passing, during the Agnoorgrad riots, Olev recalled bitterly. Looking closer he noticed his portrait was sewn onto Dustin’s coat. Today the young Bronstein worked as an underground journalist and organizer for their party. Olev realized Dustin and a group of comrades needed assistance holding a large banner. The words read, The Sun Rises With Us! Olev did so as the crowd started to reach their gathering spot. It was a monument dedicated to veterans, a large red pillar and square. The Veteran’s Remembrance Pillar, it made for a wonderful gathering place in what was known as Chateauville. Though originally it had been called the Royal Village, when Cristoph Roerich had established the pillar. In fact Olev had come here after finishing his tour of service, the Order of Cristoph Roerich on his jacket. Honoring his father and fallen comrades in arms who died fighting their enemies. Chateauville had a fine marketplace, as well as overindulgent villas. It was a mile away from the chateau. At first it had been a hotbed of imperial reverence. Though ever since Roony took power, it had become his personal circus of worship. After the collapse of the imperium Olev came once more, this time he was an open target of ridicule for wearing an Order of Cristoph. In fact he had gotten into a fist fight with a local, some sympathizer of the president. Despite that, Olev felt safe locked arm in arm with his Reffeldian brothers and sisters.

 

Being amongst such a vast crowd of like-minded comrades breathed new life into Olev. Even if a few hypocrites were amongst the sincere. A mic and podium was soon set up as the crowd mingled and formed up. Olev looked onward…a few of those insincere individuals were coming forward for a word at the mic. In the far off distance Mount Rurik remained a sacred spec in the skyline. The primordial mountain fortress of Dragnoske was safe and secure. Three sons of Dragnoske were present today. Gennady the business man, Laeron the famous boxer and Andronik the young prince. For Olev the involvement of the bear family was a symbol of inaction. House Olferre was pleased to sit back eight years ago during the collapse, if it meant they could reclaim their lost prestige later on. President Ronald Carr allowed the bears to maintain a symbolic rule of their mountain fortress, in exchange for peaceful loyalty. That is what the bear lords said, Olev knew the proper term was obedience. Admiration for the bear family was nonetheless prevalent amongst Olev’s generation, and the people of the Glavna more generally. However Olev was wiser than the common stock, and could smell opportunism anywhere. Gennady Olferre stepped forward, not a single hair out of form, his suit freshly dry cleaned with the flag of Dragnoske as his lapel pin. “Dear comrades, brothers and sisters! Today we’re embarking on a challenging journey, towards a bright and vibrant future! We’re standing tall and saying that Fredrick Krauser is our chosen president! I hope to live in a decent Reffelda, a Reffelda where the voices of the masses are not crushed beneath the webbed fist of a foolish toad. We’ll soon march towards the chateau in our thousands, and show Ronald Carr that we will not be silenced!” Gennady paused “And so we march!”

 

And so we march! Olferre! Reffelda! The crowds roared with enthusiasm, repeating the creed of House Olferre. Olev agreed with everything Gennady had said, but knew they were only supporting Fredrick in order to further solidify their position. Beneath the reign of Roony, House Olferre maintained a certain autonomy over the Glavna Region. Roony needed the region stable, an opportunistic alliance with House Olferre was the best way to do so. Though that alliance was coming under increasing question in recent years, as House Olferre played backdoor politics and alliance building. Their most recent was an electoral one, with Fredrick Krauser and his Reffelda First Party. The promise of further autonomy and further prestige came with it. Despite the hypocrisy of the Olferre clan, Olev couldn’t help but feel in awe.

 

Standing shoulder to shoulder with a prince of House Olferre, standing for the legacy of the People’s Imperium. It was like something out of an old story. Like the ones Olev raised his daughter on, the tales of bygone times. Olev handed the fringes of his banner off to the youthful Bronstein, rejoining Ally who was standing closer to the podium. Approaching his daughter, he placed an arm around her. Placing a gentle kiss on her cheek, they both smiled. I’ll stand as tall as old Rurik if it means inspiring you. Gennady stepped from the stage, shaking hands with young Bryak Dragomirov. Bryak was a priest of The Allmaker, stationed in the bear fortress of Dragnoske. However he was also the brother of renowned revolutionary Emerik Dragomirov. Bryak was a symbol of this bridge which was being built between the revolutionaries, and the imperial fanatics. Fredrick was much the same, being the heir to House Hyydragar, as well as the leader of their revolutionary party. Father Bryak stepped towards the podium, a blue sun pendant hanging from his neck, his beard wise and trimmed. “Sons and daughters of Reffelda! Today is the first step into a sacred struggle to reclaim our homeland. The ballot box must be filled with truth. Today we’re demonstrating our peaceful intent…our unyielding determination for a better world. Ordinis will see that the masses cannot be brought to their knees…we’ll stand tall, and the sun will rise with us!” Olev smiled as Bryak repeated a popular credo of the party. Bryak uncurled some papers, Olev readied his as well. This was of course a ceremonial reading of the poem Hymn Of The Revolution. Written by some fellow named Wordcraft, it had gotten quite popular amongst the downtrodden and revolutionary warriors of the Glavna Region. Bryak cleared his throat “And now, the Hymn of The Revolution.” Many in the crowd revealed their own copies, following along with Bryak.

 

Sing o Reffeldian princess, shame to the scum who sit upon thrones…

Thrones of hate! Thrones of lies! Thrones of oppression!

Bright muse of liberty, where art thou? Sing o Reffeldian princess

Shame to the scum who sit upon thrones…reveal the noble path…

Where exalted Rurik once strode, where you inspired his kingly deeds.

 

Tremble, tyrants and thieves! You autocratic psychopaths,
You and your throne I do despise! I watch your doom, your estate perishing…

With hateful, jubilating eyes. Stain of the world, shame of creation,
Your tyrannical star gleams on the Glavna,

A reminder of resistance , a reminder of revolution

Sing o Reffeldian princess, Shame to the scum who sit upon thrones…

Thrones of hate! Thrones of lies! Thrones of oppression!

Bright muse of liberty, where art thou? Sing o Reffeldian princess

Shame to the scum who sit upon thrones…

 

Bryak received great applause, stepping aside after permitting a moment of silence for those killed during the famine. The podium was reserved for those most revolutionary and those who brought the most to the cause. To Olev, there was one who stood out of place. David Lambert, the psychologist and veteran of the Tortovick Intervention. He was a gangly and grim sort, rather knave like. Dark eyes and flat dark hair. Olev knew his story well. David was a working army psychologist, supposedly growing disillusioned with the army during his attention to veterans. David had become friends with Fredrick at the time. The two both agreed that the intervention was a horrible and ugly affair.

But it wasn’t until recently that David earned a place at Fredrick’s side. It was clear that President Ronald Carr had led Reffelda down a dark path. David could see that Fredrick was marked to win the upcoming elections. Just as David tended to his patients, Fredrick would tend to the ills of Reffelda. It was a fair view, but Olev didn’t trust indecisive people. Even a fish could tell Roony didn’t have a single democratic bone in his body. Fredrick welcomed David onto the stage, shaking his hand. “We’re all happy to welcome Mr. Lambert today, on our march to the chateau. We all believe in a Reffelda where the voices of the people are heard and honored.” David stood at the podium, pausing. “Today…is our first step towards a bright and vibrant future.” David lazily copied the words of Gennady Olferre, soon his eyes looked towards Fredrick. “Liberty, she is fierce and must be protected. Fredrick has led men into war…I couldn’t think of anyone better to be leading us today.” Applause erupted, balloons hoisted into the air along with banners. Despite the words of Lambert, Olev didn’t trust him. He had a shadowy look to him, and his association with the army was shrouded in mystery. Though I suppose even the ancient bird changed her wings once or twice. Just as Colonel Fredrick, David must have realized the wrongdoings of his overseers. Watching Reffelda descend into darkness these past eight years, hearing the stories of his fatigued and troubled patients. Fredrick Krauser soon approached David, landing a friendly hand on his shoulder. Fredrick stood at the height of a legendary knight, his jaw square and clean shaved. His hair was slicked back and blonde. An ambitious man who wished to return Reffelda to a state of stability and glory. While not wishing for a full imperial restoration, Fredrick knew Reffelda needed a new path. A path of unity, a path where the government worked for the people and not a handful of blood thirsty oligarchs. Fredrick paused, waiting for absolute silence. He chose to hand his officer’s cap to Bryak. His hands gripped the podium, completely in command. His red ribbon crimson and vibrant.

 

“Dear friends, comrades, sons and daughters of Reffelda. Thank you for joining us on this historic day. The sun has answered our call and risen with us! My voice extends to all corners of our vast motherland, and to those hesitant to join us on this day of justice. Silenced by this oligarchic regime…historic humiliation…territorial disintegration…economic decay.” Fredrick paused as voices of dismay filled the air, discontent towards the failures of the last decade. Fredrick breathed in, his breath fiery “The voices of the masses will not be silenced! I call upon all honest Reffeldians to speak truth, become our comrade and become our friend. A red dawn is coming! I vow that I will not stop fighting for a truthful Reffelda, a Reffelda of the masses. It was the wish of the late King Cristoph Roerich to allow the people to rule themselves, and I intend to uphold those values.”

The crowd erupted in applause, Fredrick remained serious and continued speaking. It seemed as if a tear may have come to his eye, though just as easily could have been the wind. “I ask all of you here today, will we be victorious?” The crowd repeated with a resolute yes. “Comrades! Once again, I thank all of you for joining us today. I thank all of those who have decided to fight for a true, strong and great Reffelda! To all those who wish to cast a ballot for our party of the people. Victory will be ours, glory to Reffelda!”

 

The nearby band started to play the former imperial anthem with pride. Prince Andronik Olferre was at the center playing a traditional Reffeldian lute, as well as wearing a fancy nobleman’s outfit. It reminded Olev of the stories of old Dragnoske, the stories of Draga and her many conquests. Andronik however, Olev had heard few stories of him. Only that he was a musical sort. Traveling from town to town in the Glavna region with his lute and golden vocal chords. Fredrick Krauser listened to the anthem with nostalgia, vibrating with both joy and sadness. He stepped from the stage as banners were hoisted. He shook the hands of patriots, received kisses from old women and tussled the hair of children. That is when Ally approached Fredrick with a traditional greeting, a fresh Reffeldian loaf of bread and salt.

Olev smiled as his daughter took part in the festivities. Fredrick smiled, grabbing a fresh piece from the loaf and devouring it. Ally kissed Fredrick on both cheeks, and he returned the courtesy. Soon others stepped forward for a fresh slice, Bryak the priest, as well as Dustin Bronstein. Olev simply stood back and soaked it all in. The event had truly brought in people from all corners of the country. Olev looked to his daughter, happy to see that glimmer in her eyes again. “Glory to Reffelda!” Fredrick held his fist high. The crowd repeated the phrase, raising their fists and banners triumphantly. A large banner read Justice for Reffelda, Justice for History! It was held by the brothers of House Olferre. House Olferre was an old and legendary house, three of the five Olferre siblings had made an appearance here today. Olev didn’t believe rumors, but had heard that they were inspiring riots in their family name.  If this was the work of Lord Aldaveer Olferre, Olev couldn’t say. It seemed all sons of Aldaveer were here but Stanislav, who was still up in Dragnoske with his sister Sofia. Olev wondered their reasons for missing this demonstration. Cake and champagne. Olev knew Stanislav had little wit to him, and Sofia the same but with even less ambition. Olev knew their story, losing their mother at a young age. Ally is strong…she didn’t let it stop her from living a fulfilling life. Olev smiled once more, proud of his daughter.

 

“Death to tyrants!” Laeron Olferre yelled like a bear. Olev stepped forward as the crowd repeated the words of Laeron, choosing to join in. Raising his fist, Olev repeated “Death to Tyrants!” Olev stepped towards his daughter, landing a kiss on her cheek and accepting a slice of bread. Olev wanted to be optimistic, to inspire his daughter during this plight. But Olev knew deep down the days of the old Imperium were gone…the times of bear princes, legendary knights and great conquests were through. However there were some legendary names which did give Olev hope. The Olferre’s weren’t among them, though he could see their support was important going forward. For Olev, the future would be led by renowned Reds.

Such as Emerik Dragomirov, or Marshal Gennady Zhenkov. Those two were building mass movements of ordinary people along the Glavna. Not in regards to imperial worship, but truly bettering the lives of ordinary people. Olev turned his head, realizing Fredrick was in arm’s length. He never expected to be so close to such a legendary figure. Fredrick was busy conversing with Bryak about the elections, but Olev remained bold and moved closer. “Colonel… Colonel Fredrick!” Olev said with trepidation and optimism.

 

               “Just Fredrick is fine.” Fredrick remained humble “To who do I have the pleasure?”

 

               “I'm Olev, Olev Sarkwrath.” Olev brought his daughter forward “My daughter Ally, we’re from Cristvoske.” Olev paused “I…wanted to say, this movement, all of us…the criminals in Ordinis know how dangerous it is. They want us snuffed out. I thank you for leading us Colonel…but can all this last?”

 

               “The movement?” Fredrick asked “We’re here today, in defiance of all that came before. The collapse of the country, territorial disintegration, war, famine…disease. We stand tall in the face of everything.”

 

               “My…” Olev looked to his daughter “My wife admired you. She studied your writing in Cristvoske. It was not often she admired nobles…but she knew you and Cristoph had deeper beliefs. I believe that as well.”

 

               Fredrick tightened “At a time…the name of Rurik was one of pride and strength. But…the time of legendary knights and kings are gone. Sad to say, but it’s true.” Olev was shocked. In truth Olev somewhat agreed. But he had thought Fredrick would be less pessimistic. Sure the knights of old were lost to the history books, but heroes still existed. Olev believed that, he needed to believe that. He wanted to be a hero to his daughter, to be someone to look up to. Surely Fredrick is the same? Olev looked up to the Colonel, just as he had looked up to the late Cristoph Roerich. Olev replied bluntly “We all thought The Republic would be a breath of fresh air…but it was anything but.”

 

Fredrick nodded “The Republic…yes, she has failed. Some heroes exist within…I’d like to believe. But…no more tales that fit legends. It is the people that must stand tall now…carve their names into history.”

              

“The past shouldn’t be forgotten, only in spite of it can we move forward.” Olev said

 

Ally broke the tense debate “Fredrick, another slice?”

 

“Thank you my dear.” Fredrick grabbed another helping

 

Ally found her chance to ask “Colonel…what my father was saying, we believe in heroes, legendary figures. King Cristoph…Colonel Fredrick, Marshal Zhenkov, Prince Andronik. They give us hope. But the question is, will you stand up and fight for us?”

 

Fredrick stood rigidly, and yet undeniably noble “Heroes…legendary names, loyalty. Admirable perhaps. Though I would discourage any such notions. Instead, be loyal to the people…the party, the movement. For me, there is no better service. Don’t confuse this with loyalty to faces, such as mine.” Fredrick paused “On the topic of struggle…if there is a chance for peace, we must take it.”

Fredrick spoke boldly “Reffelda has seen enough blood.” After he said that Ally was a bit quieter then she was earlier, Olev unsure what side to take. If we don’t take a stand, blood will be inevitable. Fredrick looked a bit uncomfortable and drew his eyes around to find another comrade. Olev was a bit flustered, wondering Fredrick’s intensions. Ally returned to handing out bread slices, and soon joined in with the choir. Singing ballads of the Glavna Region with Prince Andronik as the lead, Olev watched with joy. Local television stations reported the events. After some statements were made by Fredrick and a few others. Olev found his chance to lead Ally towards the local samovars. Olev found that many had opted for some tea time. Dustin was amongst them, already at the head of the line. Young Bronstein waved, handing some cups off to Ally and Olev. The three stood serendipitously, happy to find some tranquility before they marched on the Chateau. The sun was growing weary, which gave Olev pause. That was when they began their final march to the chateau, banners hoisted, defiant voices assail. The mighty presidential estate revealed itself on a hilltop, golden and foreboding.

 

Olev remembered seeing a painting of the chateau in the House of Reverence, it was far uglier and dated in person. The marble pillars of the courtyard were ornated with vine work, an overzealous fountain in front of the entrance. A twelve foot cobblestone wall protected the estate, with accompanying guard posts. A haunting clock tower sat above it all, watching. The hedge work of the courtyard seemed like it needed some tending. Laura would have a thing or two to say about the garden Roony keeps. The estate was monstrously massive, one hundred rooms of obscene size. Having been rebuilt, expanded and redecorated numerous times in it's centuries long history. Olev recalled the young Sofia Olferre and her mother Anastasia had been guests here not long ago…when a different family resided in the chateau, before Reffelda had changed forever. Olev raised his head and looked at the balcony, noticing heavy weapons being carried by soldiers. Did they know we were coming? If there was a garrison of soldiers here, Olev wondered if the president was safe inside.

 

Fredrick gathered himself at a podium, set up by the demonstrators in haste. After shaking the hands of his supporters, Fredrick prepared some revolutionary rhetoric to read. Olev faintly heard the echoes of the past. The crowds of people bringing flowers to the doorsteps of the Chateau to honor Ronald and his service to the world. The old House Rurik had declined during the ailing years of the People’s Imperium, people had looked to Ronald as a symbol of new ideas and progress. Over the years the flowers stopped coming as Reffelda steadily declined into stagnation and instability. When the Dukedom separated…the red isles sold off…and the Tortov people were butchered.

 

When he signed the wealth of our nation off to the empire…we’ve never been the same since. The clock tower of the chateau ticked ominously. Olev came forward with his daughter, standing at the helm of the protesters. The veil of silence was broken as a hymn began to fall from Olev’s mouth. The anthem of the Reffelda First Party. Resolve conducted the voice of Olev “Arise, arise sons and daughters!” Ally smiled and sang as well “Arise against the tyrants!”

 

Dustin came forward “Against those who wear crowns of cruelty!”

 

Fredrick smiled “Let the song of the people fill you with pride!”

 

“Arise!” Olev roared with revelry

 

Arise, arise sons and daughters! Arise against the tyrants!

Against those who wear crowns of cruelty!

Life will become better, life will become cheerful!

Let the song of the people fill you with pride!

Look at the sun, it rises with us!

There’s a world to be won, rally under the red banner!

A Red Dawn, a new world in our hands!

Onward! Onward! Onward!

 

Denounce the dark old order!

Shake the structures of torment! We detest the thrones of tyrants!

Our great party of Reds!

Our great party of Reffelda!

Become our comrade, become our friend, a red dawn is coming!

 

Stand tall, brothers from Cristvoske, sisters from Ordinis

Mothers from Ukrassa, sons from Dragnoske, fathers from Wallachious!

From the Glavna to the Glass Sea, across the southern fields, stand tall!

Stand tall, the sun rises with us!

Arise, arise sons and daughters!

Rise throughout the Tundra, the Khuvash coasts and the frozen north!

Rise brothers of steel, rise sisters of the field!

 

Arise against the tyrants!

Against those who wear crowns of cruelty!

Life will become better, life will become cheerful!

Let the song of the people fill you with pride!

Look at the sun, it rises with us!

There’s a world to be won, rally under the red banner!

A Red Dawn, a new world in our hands!

Onward! Onward! Onward!

 

               The revolutionary words of their party radiated in the air, banners from all walks of Reffelda flying united. Fredrick remained atop his podium, acting as conductor. The crowd cheered, Onward! Onward! Onward! Olev stood amongst the vast crowd, banners above his head, the air fresh and warm. He looked at his daughter, her face as bright as ever. Looking around…Olev felt truly optimistic for the first time in years. It was moments like this which reminded Olev that regular people could change the world for the better. That with the simple tools of blood and iron, mountains could be moved. Dustin Bronstein pulled Olev in for a hug, along with Ally they all raised their fists with pride. Onward! Olev smiled, amongst those he knew were true friends. The chateau remained ominous in the horizon, like a bloody hound waiting for it’s prey to take a wrong step. We’re too numerous…even if they snuff us out, a million more will show up to take our place. Olev’s energy darkened, something was off with that David fellow. His eyes grew bloodshot and antagonistic, drawn to the majestic chateau. It was so quick…but it was also as if time froze in that moment.

His daughter’s glimmering eyes, the red banner…the opulent imperial estate. David…seizing the moment, reaching inside his trench coat. Like a sword drawn from ancient stone, David drew his shiny revolver. A few shocked faces turned away. David aimed directly at the chateau…a few arms moved in to stop him. But it was too late, David nailed five quick shots at the chateau balcony. From this distance…incredibly impressive, only someone with proper training could land such a precise shot. Laeron Olferre was the first to grab hold of David, putting him in a choke hold. Another bystander knocked the revolver to the ground, a third punched David immediately. Not long after the guards standing at the chateau gates began shooting at the crowd without discrimination. Snipers from the chateau balcony followed as well. Fredrick attempted to plead from his podium, COMRADES, TAKE COVER! Bodies began to fall, banners tossed to dust…the stench of led filled the air. Rethinking it all Olev wondered if this was meant to happen. “LEAVE THEM BE!” Fredrick pleaded with the chateau guardsmen, but soon found that his mic had been shot dead as well. Bodies fell left and right. Silence filled Olev’s head as bodies fell around him, a ringing began to take place. Blood began to soak his boots from a nearby corpse, looking closer he could see it was the bear prince Laeron. Dear Allmaker… Olev gripped Ally’s arm as their banner fell, the other bear prince Andronik had fallen with it. The eldest Gennady came to their bodies…on his knees…screaming with rage. Olev ran with his daughter behind the stone gate of the chateau, he covered her ears from the noise. Olev noticed Gennady growing cold with anger, his eyes agitated and dilated. He reached for David’s revolver and began to shoot at the guardsmen, killing a few soldiers. The fabled revolver slid from Gennady’s grip, sweaty and slick with blood. The revolver lost its breath…and a bullet landed in Gennady. Looking down at his chest…bewildered and scourged with rage. Fredrick immediately hid behind the opposite side of the chateau gate.

 

The Colonel dropped to his knees, piles of bodies littered around the chateau. Shooting continued to echo, firefights breaking out nearby. Fredrick remained on his knees…Olev wondered if he would have the courage to stand once more. Looking around, Olev was grateful he and Ally were still standing. Several had already escaped…but only the chosen handful The Allmaker deemed worthy. Olev held his daughter close, her head at his chest. Strange, Ally had fallen asleep in her father’s arms many times, but this time it reminded Olev of when she was a child. As he recalled those treasured memories, the stench of ash filled the air. Soon clouds of terrible grey filled Olev’s eyes, both he and Ally coughing. Olev fearlessly kept his daughter safe, choosing to raise his head above the stone wall to gain view of the chateau. The historic estate was burning in every corner, from the top floor balcony, to the majestic dining hall down below. Who…who did that? This was meant to be peaceful! Olev tightened his teeth, wondering about that David…who was he? He shot at the balcony…but who set the chateau aflame?  Olev felt his daughters hand twinge with anxiety, recalling when she did the same thing as a child. The crackling of flames, the desperate voices of the masses. Silence reigned at the chateau, where revelry had briefly roared. It’s time to go! Olev turned back, ready to leave, to lead his daughter to safety. But he couldn’t move…he felt his chest tighten, suddenly he felt his shirt was soaked. Red…blood began to pollute Olev’s clothes. They shot me. Olev’s thoughts had been racing for so long he hadn’t realized. Suddenly he felt his knees buckle…Ally held her father, lowering him safely. He rested his head against the chateau gates, the world spinning around him. Red flags tossed in the muck…banners of Dragnoske by their side, and the young princes of House Olferre with them. What happened…they did this…those dogs…they massacred us. Olev rethought everything…their mission…it all flashed. He remembered his wife Laura, his friends in Cristvoske and his prized ranch. It’s all yours now darling. Olev opened his eyes, pleased to see his daughter…as well as distraught. Ally held her father’s head in her hands, gently keeping him awake.

 

He had been focusing so deeply on her that he hadn’t realized Fredrick Krauser had raced towards him as well, attempting to peal his daughter away to safety. Save her…and you’ve redeemed yourself in my eyes. Fredrick pleaded with Ally, we have to go! We have to go! Young Dustin Bronstein had come forward as well, trying to get through to Ally. Bryak the priest had rushed to the scene just behind Dustin, examining Olev’s wound. His eyes tightened, dashing any hope that Olev would move from that spot. This is your fault, you did this! Ally screamed at Fredrick, refusing to leave her father. Finally Olev spoke up, extending his hand to Fredrick. The Colonel knelt down respectfully, gripping Olev’s hand tight and facing him. “Colonel…save my daughter…save my Ally.” Fredrick paused…looking back at Ally, to ensure she had heard her father’s words. Olev tightened his grip “Today we lost the battle…” Olev withered “Now, prepare for the war…”Fredrick focused his eyes to Olev, his lips barely moving properly. “You were right Colonel. Shame…to the scum…who sit on thrones. Thrones of lies…thrones of hate…thrones of…thrones of…” Olev began to fade away, his vision blurry. He returned his attention to his farmland, a peaceful time…when the world was fair. White lilies…crimson carnations in the window…Laura. Fredrick smashed his fist into the gravel, Olev heard his grunts. Bryak and Dustin attempted to raise Ally from her feet. Eventually she gave in, only doing so as she watched the chateau catch flame. She kept her eyes on her father as she ran away in tears. The chateau flames soon reached the garden…the radiant roses crisping to ash. The last beautiful thing Olev remembered was his daughter singing, singing a song of resistance with hopeful resolve.

Author's Note

Thoughts on characters, story, where do you see it developing?