The door screeched as Maro Vengene departed from the Chancellor’s chamber. It had been their third and final meeting, leaving the dark god exhausted and his mouth dry. The exterior of the meeting room, where candles dispelled the darkness, lay a fine crimson carpet below a shimmering chandelier. Viewed from the single open window was the entire mountain city of the Sect Republic, a forgotten little spot on the map much like Aquavy. Though unlike Aquavy its population was respectable, its economy strong and its military nothing to ignore. Maro took in the little lights below signaling each solitary building. The houses and businesses were arranged on the side of a granite incline where manmade stairs and shelves were cut out for ease of movement. The tower he found himself in now stood at the top of it all, five stories high made of fine marble. Truly if they could manage to fit such a marvel on the side of a mountain, than they were skilled builders, indeed.
Sect was a republic in name only, reliving bygone days when the people had some voice in politics. In distant lands commoners not among the intelligence committees still believe this ruse and, as a result, were not overly concerned before Sect's recent attack on Capital. If they knew that years before, after times of famine and a series of natural devastations, one person took control of everything than they might have been on guard long ago. This monarchy, led my Van Golach who gave himself the title of "Chancellor", quickly gave in to the religion of Illumination. Under Golach's decree all were to worship the god of light who went by the name of Fredric Vanhorne.
Behind Maro, the door came open and out came the Chancellor himself, dressed casually with a sheepskin jerkin, smoking a pipe. What was left of his silver hair had been slicked back. Maro nodded with his eye on the Chancellor's folder tucked under an armpit. The very secrets Maro had sold in order to render their "services". Soon a castle of his specifications would be erected as a hub for his purposes, and the war that has started, now seen as only a middle-range threat, would erupt into all out war with Sect's newly acquired knowledge. Everything would work out in Maro's favor. The trip had been a resounding success.
Long after being left alone Maro descended the black spiral staircase. The scent of onions passed his nostrils (doubtlessly from a kitchen somewhere) and then that of cherry candle wax. Not halfway down he stopped at a cross-shaped window overlooking a wood church. It was covered in overgrowth and lit by the lunar light. It was then, looking at that monument for his brother, that wicked house of deception, that it happened. First the collapse. Maro slipped and tumbled down the stairs. Ribs cracked yet his screams were muffled by the buildup of mucus. His vision failed and was replaced by a terrible blackness. The amorphous beings inside his mind verbalized that his doom had come.
In the lobby of the tower (where electric lamps shined every golden wall) the body of a young man in suit and tie was found by at the bottom of the stairwell. The accountant who found him, wearing his silver watch, called for immediate assistance. It caused as much commotion as possible for a night shift of twenty persons. The crowd did little good since none had any medical expertise. Even if someone did, who could possible diagnose and treat such a peculiar patient?
Four men of arms wearing the banner of their Chancellor volunteered to carry him to a medical professional. This was not before finding a full purse at his waist. Diving up a silver piece to each of the four for their aid, they took up each limb and carried him out like a stretcher.
The night mountainous air chilled the bone. Distant howling and the scraping of feet over the rocky steps were the only sounds. One of the four escorts knew of a reputable doctor and had in mind his address, for he would not be in the medical facility at such a late hour. Descending another fifty paces they turned off on a carved out path leftward. This stretch was naught but caves in the mountainside lit and decorated with the modern pleasures of life. It was these caves where the wealthy lived, those of high position who didn't wish to live in square buildings erected by man, but in a Fredrick-made home. It is not to be mistaken that such caves were cold damp and dry, on the contrary each had proper walls and a door at the mouth of the cave, heating, electricity, water and other luxuries. Masons skilled in cutting into rock expanded these homes often giving them the space three times that of buildings.
Stopping before the door at the far end of the pathway the four guards put down the unconscious man and gave three resounding knocks. After some mumblings three of the banner man withdrew leaving Maro alone with one. The one, whose keys at his belt jingled as he paced, wore a thick leather vest with a belt across his chest full of pouches. Impatiently he pounded the door again and spoke in a quick, commanding tone as so many did who found themselves in the Chancellor's favor. Finally the doctor opened up.
"What do you want, dammit," spat the physician, "I thought I told everyone to call on my no-good brother for night appointments."
"Calm down, friend," said the guard.
"Daryl? Well why didn't you say it was you! Come in, come in. To be honest I was planning on having my second drink. Care to join me?"
"Of course, but I have a favor to ask, or perhaps you should be doing me a favor. I have here a man, one who I have seen coming and going to the Chancellor's chamber on more than one occasion. Look here, his bag contains more money than I've ever seen. It was only because I feared the wrath of the Chancellor that I did not take it for myself. But, should you save this man, you’d have an excuse to take the money. Maybe share some with me for giving you this opportunity."
"This is no trifle sum, I admit," replied the doctor. "Suddenly I feel the need to help! Drag the poor lout in. On the couch if you would."
Maro was placed on the couch by Daryl while the medical man locked up his door. The sides of the cave had been cut flat to act as perfect walls. The ground had the same treatment making for a not-too-lumpy floor. There were no stalactites or stalagmites to speak of. Overhead lights installed in ceiling compartments made darkness no issue and the warmth coming from vents dispelled the freeze. Other than the black leather couch was his kitchen counter near the back complete with stove and dishwasher. There was even a fireplace and a hatch that could be opened to let the smoke barrel out.
James (the doctor‘s name) put on reading glasses on his hooked nose and exited the wash area holding a tool box. From first glance one might mistake that he made to work on a broken car or radio. Any patient who might have seen this would be put at ease when James plopped the box on the table and opened to reveal perfectly normal medical tools. A miniature flashlight came out first. After a few 'ah hahs' and 'mm hmms' the doctor finished checking Maro's eyes and allowed himself to be lost in his thoughts.
"What is it?" asked Daryl. The guard sat at Maro's feet and weighed the money bag in the palm of his hand.
"I don't know how to put this," he said.
"Well?"
"You know me, right? I've been in this profession for thirty years."
"Is it something serious?"
"I don't know! Look for yourself, those eyes are weird, to put it in non-medical terms. Like cat eyes enlarged and placed in the occipital cavities through some experimentation."
"My God you're right," exclaimed Daryl.
The doctor paled when he checked for a pulse using Maro's wrist.
"The heart has to be going at three-hundred beats per minute, but his breathing is steady and slow. And look, the skin here at the forearm is turning dark."
"Perhaps it's some rare disease! It certainly isn't the symptoms of that plague feasting on the lives in the larger countries."
Daryl, as our readers may have guessed, had learned a thing or two from his elder friend. Never before had he witnessed James with a more perplexed expression. It terrified him.
"Imagine," James said more to himself, "if I could be the first to treat such an illness, my fame would reach the ends of Neo-N."
"It seems more fortune than you thought has come to your doorstep."
"Not true. I don't know where to begin. This gentleman will sooner die on my couch than a meteorite striking down on the crown of our mountain. You haven't brought me fortune, you've brought me despair."
"What!"
"It's true. I have not lost the life of a patient in so long, and here the chancellor's own confidante will die in my house. I am lost."
James returned the flashlight to toolbox, not bothering to take out anything more. He sauntered away to the kitchen counter and leaned over it like a man about to vomit. Daryl realized how pathetic he looked there, in his white nightgown and graying hair betraying his many years. He couldn't help but feel pity.
"You are not going to attempt to get to the bottom of this?" Daryl said. "He still lives."
"Curse it, anyone with eyes like that is beyond my league. We've only got the basic antibiotics, and vaccines that would do no good now. What would you suggest I do? Give him all the shots I have and hope it works? I wrote four medical journals, I know everything out there. But this is new. Since when did Fredrick decide to create a new monstrosity? And should it be contagious..."
James slammed his fist down and went back to the toolbox. There, he administered his patient a number of pills. "This will ease the fever and slow the heart. It won't change anything, though."
A knock came from the entryway. The two remained silent a time. James hoped that whoever it was would assume was asleep and would simply go away, but the pound returned with more ferocity. Moving close James unlatched the lock over the wood surface and opened the door just enough to peek through. He swung the hinged barrier open and bowed, proclaiming, "Welcome, Chancellor!"
Van Golach stormed past the doctor and pointed at their doomed patient.
"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen? David is sick and I wasn't immediately informed?"
"I'm sorry, sir, it slipped my mind with the severity of the situation."
The Chancellor moved unsettlingly and spoke in a low tone. "Will he be all right?"
"I could not lie to you. His condition is getting no better, his body is sick with fever, his eyes are not like that of you or I, and his skin darkens. I have no cure."
"Oh, we are ruined," cried Van, "he promised us much, much more. What we have learned from him is not yet enough to take on three kingdoms!"
"Three kingdoms, sire?" Daryl spoke for the first time. "We plan to war with more than just Amasteria?"
"Fool, our rash action will bring retaliation from all sides. I beg you not to speak on matters not befitting your rank again. As for you, doctor, you best find a cure or I assure you your tomorrows will not be so prosperous."
"But sir," James cried out, "I am a man of science, not miracles. The best we can hope for is a natural recovery after a period of rest."
The conversation, if you could call it that, continued well into the night. Daryl remained passive in the corner hoping to escape further attention while James tried to reason with his superior. David, as the three now called Maro, didn't show any signs of waking from his delirious state. Nothing changed after another hour elapsed. James finally succumbed to Van's demands and left for his hospital to acquire anything that he could try on the patient.
"To think a medical doctor wouldn't even take these elementary steps," said Van after the doctor left. "Trying to treat a man without all his supplies."
Maro Vengene sat up.
Daryl and the Chancellor were so taken aback that they both retreated away as if from some danger. If never before had it been noticed, now it was undeniable that there was indeed something strange in his eyes. It wasn't just that they were piercing, showing malice read as easily as an open book, but they reflected light as sure as a mirror. Brushing coarse black hair back behind his ears Maro sniffed the smell of dried paint and boiled cabbage. The cave indeed gave these scents.
"Sir," said Van overjoyed. "I have watched over you as you've slept, and I beg you to tell me how you are."
Maro replied, but in a raspy, almost metallic voice.
"I have survived this second attack, but the next will spell my doom. Chancellor, your well being as well as mine hangs in the balance."
No response.
"It is this filthy kingdom, this rotten abode you call holy and just. If not for that then I could be in my carriage heading for the next train out." Maro stood, a good foot over Van, and peered at him like a crow eyeing its next victim. "I lied. I have one more request to make of you before I give you the next packet you seek."
"A-anything," Van said, mortified.
"Denounce your god. Tear down that forsaken church and acknowledge Maro Vengene, the true overseer of mankind, whom until now you mention with every foul thought. Worship him not, just acknowledge."
Dread of the worst kind seized Van. He fell back onto the granite surface and felt he could weep.
"You ask me, speaker of our lord Fredrick Vanhorn, to ruin everything we've built? The people would never accept such a thing!"
"Since when have you taken input from the people, or even the legislator?" Said Maro. "You will help erect my castle, continue your war, and do as I have just said, or you will be devoured by the coming tide."
"Enough," Van said, regaining some composure. "If I do as you say than there will be a coup of the worst kind. You give me no options, I am finished either choice I take."
A frail smile glinted over Maro's pale lips.
"I am Maro Vengene, and I have come to forge a one world government."
Van Golach went blank. Another word and he might faint.
"If you refuse to be the starting point for this venture," continued the dark god, "than I will not hesitate to invest still more time in finding another, more accommodating client. Better yet, I wonder?"
"Maro Vengene, in the flesh! You expect me to believe that gods are real? Think again. I have yet to get to the bottom of the sources to your radical inventions but you're nothing more than a man who had the good fortune to be blessed with a wealth of knowledge. I've made up my mind. Sect Republic doesn't need you. Get out before I demand your execution, pig."
Pig was not the word many would think of to be their last, but for Van Golach he had little time to choose. Maro observed passively as the Chancellor's pudgy eyes squirted out blood. His skull ruptured from some unknown gravitational force, bone and brains breaking the thin skin at his temples. The rest happened at once. The bones in every limb snapped piercing the mussels. His belly burst and intestines rained to the ground. The Chancellor's entire body contorted and compressed until in a flash he was gone. No body, no blood, nothing. It was if he had never existed at all.
Maro nodded to Daryl. It need not be described the soldier's look, or that he trembled and held his mouth closed.
"I am the new Chancellor as of this moment," said Maro. "Do you recognize that?"
"Yes," replied the man more as a scream than a declaration.
"Good. You can start by pretending nothing happened. The people don't need to know there's been a change in leadership. What a bother it is to gain trust. Rather I will ride on the trust of our lost friend here who now enjoys a stay in hell. Don't even tell that doctor, feign amnesia, for should word get out I will know who squealed. Then you will be joining your former leader."
"Yes, yes okay," he managed.
"Since you are the only one who knows, I also appoint you as my figurehead. You will say my words while I hide in shadow. Be my hand while I plot. Ah, how bothersome to have made this move before obtaining my cure!"
"I am at your service, lord Maro Vengene!"
"Good. I will sneak to the Chancellor's room and take position with a locked door. The servants and workers will think me absorbed in some important work and not bother to enter. Every night at this time you are to come there and knock four times in a row. You will receive my orders and be on your way. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will take my leave," said Maro, and followed through immediately.
Once alone, Daryl waited anxiously for his friend's return. James charged in holding rows of syringes and pill bottles, dropping the lot of them finding his couch empty. After fierce inquiry the only thing Daryl could say was that he remembered nothing, and did not know how he had gotten there.
Maro descended the half-mile of the rock stairwell carved into the mountain. The cloudless, misty sky changed to a shade of orange at the arrival of the sun. At the bottom of the mountain, where Sect's poor lived as well the location of both military training camps and taverns, Maro found his horses tied to a post at the outskirts. The boy leapt out from the nearby carriage and hopped around Maro grinning and laughing.
"You're back, you're back," said young Lucian McKnight, "I thought you forgot your promise to buy me ice cream."
"Where is the coachman," said Maro curtly, "I am sending you back at once."
"No, no, no. We haven't done anything but eat and sleep, and it's cold here. I don't want to go back to those no-good losers."
"I have erred. In my sickness I have launched my plan ahead of schedule. Should I lapse again this whole place may run red, your death would make me miserable, one who has yet to born controversy in his heart."
"I'm not going back," insisted Lucian.
"The coachman! Ah, there you are," Maro ran over to the plump man who bowed stiffly. "I have prepared a letter in advance. Take this to Samantha and have her and Aquavy follow the instructions without question. When you have the chance, write back with the status of Gats, for should he delay even a day longer he may have no more master to serve."
Taking his leave and ignoring Lucian's protests Maro passed the morning crowd of people who populated the field between the houses and bar, finding the endless set of stairs ahead of him once more. Up high, glowing in a new radiance, the black tower grinned and welcomed him.
And so he stepped forth to be Sect Republic's new Chancellor.
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Originally Posted by Kiza
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