The King's Freedom

[Nentsia]

Dein 1587

Zemaita
Kingdom of Nerysia

The sun had just gone under as a motorcade travelled through the capital of the Kingdom. The black, armoured vehicles carried the Royal Standard on the hood, signifying that a member of the Royal family was being escorted. Police escorts cleared the roads for the 20 royal vehicles, heading towards the National Assembly building at high speeds.

The illuminated Gothic buildings of the Nerysian capital were reflected in the black metallic paint of the royal cars as they drove through the historic center of the city. If a member of the Royal family was on the way to the legislature, it was probably the King himself. But King Algirdas, son of Aspar, was 70 years old and shunned publicity, preferring to wield his influence behind closed doors. It could also be his son and intended heir, Prince Azirkas, who had the authority to act in the name of the King. Prince Azirkas and his wife were frequently seen in public, attending ceremonies, religious celebrations, or making political announcements. He was a tall but skinny man, usually dressed in full uniform, with a well-kept brown-haired beard, short brown hair, and big eyes that stood out from his rather long, rectangularly shaped face. His narrow face was a reflection of his narrow mind. Prince Azirkas was disliked because he didn't just look like a police-man in his black uniforms with his polished boots, he also acted like one. He was also keen to correct those around him, impose political discipline on everyone, and even reprimand his wife when she read books that he deemed politically subversive. Pretty much everyone in the Kingdom dreaded the day that Azirkas would become King, for it was impossible to like the man, who to some extend seemed to enjoy being hated. For him, the hatred of others served as a form of confirmation that he was on the right course. To Azirkas, human beings were nothing but a bunch of cattle, shitting and eating as they see fit, and he saw himself - as (future) Monarch - as being tasked with instilling and maintaining order. Being disliked was part of the job.

It was indeed Prince Azirkas who emerged from one of the vehicles after they had arrived at the parliament building. The Prince was quickly welcomed by Chancellor Ricimer, the man through whom King Algirdas often operated and controlled the political system. As Chancellor, Ricimar was the chair of the legislature. He also sat in the Crown Council, the advisory board of the King. Executive and legislative powers were strictly separated under Algirdas. The National Assembly and the Senate, chaired by the Chancellor, approved budgets and could block and initiate legislation. Executive power was concentrated in the Council of Ministers and the Crown Council. Both were composed at will by the King, and answerable only to the King. In practice, this meant that the King and the Crown Council governed the country and developed its policies, the Council of Ministers was charged with implementation, and the legislature was allowed to debate the plans, but seldomly blocked them. True opposition parties were banished a long time ago - there were only varying shades of loyalty.

The fact that a member of the Royal family visited the legislature, instead of the legislators being summoned to the Palace, usually indicated that Royal family had an announcement to the nation - therefore symbolically addressing the representatives of the nation.

Once standing before the representatives of the Assembly, everyone in the room went silent – not knowing what to expect.

The tall Prince Azirkas, in his black royal uniform with all its golden braiding and decorations, stared into the chamber with his big, hollow eyes and his long face. ‘’Esteemed members of the Assembly,’’ he began with a loud and stern voice.

‘’I stand here with a message from our Sovereign Lord, King Algirdas, son of Aspar. I have been ordered by the Sovereign, my beloved father, to personally hand the Chancellor of the Assembly the following Royal Decree.’’

With his slender hands, he then held out an envelope, which was taken on by a herald who then took the letter across the floor to the bench where Chancellor Ricimer was seated. Ricimer, a thin man with a pale, wrinkly skin and his black hair combed back – highlighting his receding hairline – opened the letter. He turned even paler, to the point that some worried he was suffering a heart attack. He rose from his 700-year old wooden bench and read it out loud before the Assembly.

‘’His Majesty the King, Lord Sovereign of the Kingdom of Nerysia, Algirdas, son of Aspar, hereby orders the immediate dissolution of the National Assembly, the closure of its building, and the cessation of its activities, until further notice. The King expresses his gratitude to the Members of the Assembly for their hard work and commitment to the Nation. Signed…’’

Chancellor Ricimer looked up from the letter, then to Prince Azirkas, and then to his peers on the front rows of the parliamentary benches. The room quickly filled itself with the sound of whisper and buzzing as the members realized they were blatantly being cast aside. A man in the back rose from his seat. ‘’This is Tyranny!’’ he yelled. Prince Azirkas seemed rather amused at the scene. ‘’The King cannot do this!’’ yelled another short but fat man.

‘’We want to speak to the Majesty in person!’’
‘’I shall never give up my seat!’’

Some people started screaming and yelling, but the majority of the people seemed to accept their fate with resignation. Some members were visibly content with the decision – having never thought much of the Assembly and its role. But the people who mattered, like Chancellor Ricimer, were simply stunned. Eventually he rose from his seat again. ‘’Order! ORDER I SAID.’’

Everyone was silent again. Some were still standing though. ‘’With all due respect, Your Highness, but has His …Majesty… given any reasons or explanation for this unexpected Royal Decree?’’ Ricimer slowly turned his skull towards Prince Azirkas, who smiled arrogantly at him.

‘’Chancellor I can only assure you that His Majesty has taken this decision after lengthy consideration, and decided in all His wisdom that this was to be decided. That should be enough explanation. I hope that you do have faith in the judgment and wisdom of our King…’’

Chancellor Ricimer was now as white as the moon. The blood vessels in his forehead were pumping as he was fuming with anger. He rose from his seat again, crossed the floor in a few short but determined steps and walked over to Prince Azirkas. ‘’I am not playing games here. What is going on? I could still summon the King in person before this chamber,’’ he hissed at Azirkas.

Azirkas’ smirking face disappeared. ‘’You want to drag an old man to this floor because you’ve become too arrogant to accept a message from the Heir to his throne and his only son?’’

Ricimer turned around. ‘’You’ve all heard me. The King has dissolved the Assembly. Everyone is hereby dismissed and ordered to leave the building and do not return until further notice.’’

Then he turned back to Azirkas. ‘’I request an audience with the King for tomorrow morning.’’

‘’Your request has been noted.’’ Azirkas replied with an irritated voice.

Moments later, the Assembly members poured out of the building, while Prince Azirkas entered one of his Royal cars. Chancellor Ricimer wandered through the corridors of the building’s floors to instruct supporting staff and administrative personnel to go home until further notice.

Once he got to the highest floor however, two men appeared. They walked towards Ricimer who initially thought they might be from the security. Once he got closer to them, he noticed they were wearing doctors’ gloves. Ricimer panicked, and tried to run away as fast as his old legs could carry him. But his legs proved too old and he tripped, fell down to the floor and probably broke his wrist. The two mysterious men picked him up from the ground.

Outside, below the building, Prince Azirkas was looking at his watch while sitting in a stationary car. Then he heard a strange scream, followed by a slap. Azirkas noticed in the corner of his eye that an object had come down and fell on the ground. He turned his head, and saw a man lying on the ground, bleeding, with his arms and legs visibly broken.

‘’Drive.’’ Azirkas then told his driver.

[Nentsia]

Elva, 1588

Ministry of Security Headquarters
Zemaita

''WHERE ARE THEY?!'' a man yelled. He then gave his victim another kick in his stomach as he crawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. After a while the poor man regained his breath. A tall man was hovering above him. He was wearing a white shirt, tucked inside his black trousers with his sleeves rolled up. His tall, black boots were covered in blood. The black jacket of his uniform was still hanging over the chair behind the metal desk - the only pieces of furniture in this dark cellar with artificial light. The officer placed his fist, covered in a black blood-covered glove, close his victim's nose. When he saw that his victim had already lost his consciousness - again - he took it as a signal for a well-deserved break.

But outside the cellar, there was an unwelcome surprise. An imposing, bearded man with an enormous stomach was waiting outside the cellar. His black uniform was covered under a layer of medals and silver decorations. He was a balding man, but his perfectly-kept beard accentuated his sharp chin, and featured a perfectly-matching moustache. ''General Trep,'' the officer immediately exclaimed, as he straightened his back and saluted his pipe-smoking boss.

''Have you got him talking yet?'', the Minister of Security asked, with some irritation in his voice.

''No, General. But it will not take long anymore. We have almost reached the Source's physical limits. Then he will give up his resistance.''

General Trep coldly stared at the junior officer in front of him while taking the time to smoke his pipe, and to think. He then turned around, heading towards the staircase leading out of the dark basement of the Ministry building. But before going upstairs, he turned his head around. ''You won't break him. He's useless. Liquidate his case.''

The young officer stared at his boss with large eyes, but nodded in obedience. He took his gun out of his pocket and removed the safety switch. He then went back into the cellar, with slightly shaking hands. He had never done this before. In fact, he didn't know of any other officer in his department who had done this before. Times were rapidly changing. The orders that came from above were much more aggressive by the month. The atmosphere at the Ministry was changing. Protocols were being violated, and eventually thrown out of the window. A conspiratory culture was trickling through the hierarchy. The fact that the Minister of Security personally descended to the ''Dungeon'' to attend the torture of a prisoner, and then to privately request his execution, bypassing all formalities, was symbolic for the new climate.

The officer stood next to the unconscious prisoner, bathing in his own blood. His face was beyond recognition - completely swollen and bloodied. He aimed his gun at his head. A single gunshot then sounded through the basement of the Ministry of Security.

---

Elsewhere in the city, a white minivan was slowly passing through the streets. Before a police station it became stationary. The driver got out and walked away. Five minutes later, the side doors of the van opened and six armed men in black stepped out. They wore black ski masks, carried Mordvanian-made assault rifles and wore Severyanian-produced grenades around their belt. They quickly stormed towards the entrance of the police station, forcing their way through the doors.

Once inside, the sound of salvo's and gunshots quickly resonated through the streets. Six armed men stormed their way through the police building, taking the few officers at night shift completely by surprise. Everyone who crossed their path was a target and quickly taken out. The group split up in two units, throwing around their grenades in one office after another - killing or wounding anyone inside. The windows of the building were shattered by the force of the explosions, and several small fires caused smoke rise above the building like a big alarm signal above the neighbourhood.

While one unit was sweeping the upper floors, one unit descended to the basement - to the locker rooms where weapons and ammunition were kept. But most importantly, they kept the archives there, including records of possible police moles within the underground resistance - the so-called Southern Society. The main purpose of the operation however was plain revenge. Revenge for the kidnapping of one of the most trusted members of the resistance by the Ministry of Security.

As the emergency services responded and came from all corners of the capital, including nearby military units to deal with terrorist threats, the Southern Society's paramilitary unit set the rest of the police building ablaze, before vanishing into the night again. They didn't leave the way they came. They dispersed in three pairs, quickly running on foot to the river, where they got into small motorized boats that had been hidden under a bridge in advance. At night, it was so dark over the black river that no one would see three small black boats sneaking away from a burning building. A time-bomb placed in the minivan destroyed the last bit of evidence at the scene, and killed an additional number of servants of the State.

The messages of the terrorist attack in the capital quickly reached the highest echelons of the Kingdom, including General Trep - who smashed his pipe to pieces - but more importantly, the most powerful figure of the country. Prince Azirkas was informed on the phone while he was working late in his private study, to go over some details of the modernization of the Royal Navy. He did not need to turn on the television. He could see the sky turning red above the capital from his palace windows. Contrary to his staff, the Prince felt no sense of anger at all. His enemies were getting desperate. These acts were not a sign of their danger. These were the final convulsions before the eventual and unavoidable death of all opposition inside the country.