The first chapter of Victubia: Civil War! Enjoy!
It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly over the Capital. People went about their daily business, buying and selling, working and planning, teaching and learning. New laws were proposed, and justice was served in the courts. In the castle, an accountant puzzled over the Queens' treasury papers.
"Some of these don't seem right at all," the spectacled man whispered to himself. There are discrepancies everywhere! The tax returns from some of the small towns, and even a few of the cities... There's less there than there should be... "Timothy, can you come and take a look at these? I feel like my calculations are off."
A small, tousle-haired boy jumped off a stool in the corner of the office and dashed over. His eyes scanned the papers, adding, subtracting, totaling. "Sir, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with your work... There's just missing money." He trailed off in puzzlement.
The accountant grimaced. And quite a lot of it as well... "Go alert the Queens, will you?"
Elsewhere in the Capital, a cart pulled up to the back of a bank, carrying a large palette with a olive-green tarp over it. Four figures wearing wide brimmed hats disembarked, entered through a side door, opened for them by a teller who wouldn't meet their eyes.
The man was sweating, his formal clothes being ruined by whatever stress he was under. When the palette-bearers returned, the teller closed the door as quick as a shot, and the cart drove away, going who knew where.
Inside a vault with a royal sigil, a wooden palette rested, sagging slightly under the weight of gold.
==O==
Beneath one of the backstreets of Orkan, an offshoot of the city's poisonous black market does business. In a tunnel, a cloaked woman and two bodyguards meet with a young man wearing a white mask.
"Of course you understand my need for anonymity. I doubt your real name is... Mira, I think you said? I'm still happy to do business, the merchandise will be loaded as soon as payment is given in full."
A cold voice, commanding and strong, echoed off the damp walls. "Your price has been raised."
The young man shrugged, "Competitors are stepping up their game. So must I."
"I would prefer a lower expense." The bodyguards tensed up, ready to leap into action at the first sight of trouble.
"Money seems of no object to you, however. I must insist."
Mira calmly pulled out a pistol and fired three shots. Abdomen, chest, head. The mask didn't even crack, and the man crumpled to the floor before the echoes subsided. The merchandise, a cage, is loaded into the back of a covered transport, and the coach set off for the Capital.
==O==
At a dock in Udde, a man waits next to a coach with the Minx Family crest. A voice whispers from the darkness in a language the courier doesn't recognize, but he recognizes that universal sign of beckoning as a red gloved hand extends from the shadows. The courier glances around, passes off an envelope, and takes a sack of jingling metal in return. As he boards the coach, his head snaps back and glares at the shadows.
"Don't involve me. I just want to feed my family, and get out of this country. I don't know what you'll do with that, but I want no part of it."
A knife lances out of the darkness and sticks in the wood next to the courier's head. The man flinches, but pulls the vibrating blade from the wall, and whips it back into the shadows. A grunt of pain sounds, and the patter of liquid drops hitting the ground, but nothing more. I won't let him silence me, not when I'm so close.
He jumps to the reins, and the clatter of hooves pierces the evening as the coach careens away. The figure in the shadows steps into the lamplight, and her pained expression was evident. The knife is still stuck in the woman's leg, so she crawls away, the royal sigil on her cloak very apparent.
"I'll be taking this now, thank you." Mira's cold smile flashes in the moonlight, all teeth and no kindness.
She bends down, pulls the knife out of the agent's leg, and calmly slits the woman's throat all in one movement. A slender hand grabs the folder and tucks it into a brown satchel. Mira walks back into the shadows, the knife leaving a trail of crimson spots behind her.
Three days later.
Gabbi and the MODs rattled along the streets in the Mayor's private carriage. Since there was only one carriage available that day, and only room for three on each bench, Panda lay down in the middle and slept, (everyone was secretly glad for the free footrest) while Raz stood on the roof, directing traffic around them. At some point during the ride, Arc got motion sickness and climbed up above, anchoring herself to the roof by sticking her swords through slots in the roof, and causing the MODs inside to briefly panic from the experience of swords coming through the ceiling. The horses cantered to a halt in front of the castle gate, and the MODs formed up behind their boss, and headed inside.
The Queens had prepared tea in a drawing room. The Mayor went in, while the MODs elected to stay outside and explore the Castle yet again, their favorite pastime during these meetings. Asa turned down a hallway and nearly collided with a tall, thin man carrying a stack of papers. Behind him, a boy struggled under an even larger stack.
"What are these papers for?" Asa asked, then realized the only thing in the direction they were heading was the Queens' meeting.
"There have been..." The man paused for a moment to groan under the weight of the papers, "Discrepancies in the Queens' finances. We were ordered to collect, hnnngh, all the reports and bring them to their Majesties." The boy seemed to be having even more trouble, so Asa walked over and took half of his stack, while talking over her shoulder.
"Mind if I take a look at some of these?" Before waiting for a reply, she scanned the papers and immediately realized what the accountants hadn't. They've been embezzling the taxes! I must tell Gabbi immediately... Of course we have to confirm it, but Raz could just check the Royal Vault. Where is he?
The MOD in question was visiting the dungeons, because who doesn't love a good dungeon? At the moment though, he had just found a very poorly disguised false wall. A quick punch from a shadowy fist, and the shoddily constructed mortar fell away, revealing a horrible sight beyond.
A cage full of people sat in the dark center of the room. They wore nothing, and all looked like they had been starved for months. Brands and scars of other terrible tortures showed all over their bodies. Raz could also see a workbench in the back, with tools on it. He could tell which ones had been used recently by the dried blood still on their tips.
His mind contracted into a single point of rage. The cage door was ripped off it's hinges and flung against the far wall. Raz dashed over, pushing people into the shadows, sending them straight to the hospital. When the cage was empty, he crushed almost every instrument of torture, saving a few for evidence, and then stalked out of the room, carrying a brand in the shape of the royal sigil. Their majesties will die for this.
When the Mayor exited the meeting, she found her MODs smoldering like an active volcano. Raz teleported them back to the carriage, and Asa explained what she had found. Raz spoke through clenched teeth about the horror in the dungeon, and Arc chipped in, remembering a conversation she had had with a royal spy handler who had lost her agent, along with valuable national secrets. What it all painted was a grim picture.
Gabbi sat in her office, head in her hands. Her head jerked upright, blue eyes cold with fury. This is the only way to stop this. We will have to rebel against their Majesties, no, those bitches, and make them pay.
"We move tonight. An uprising will be sparked."
And so the flint lights the tinder.
What did you think? More to come, and longer chapters too. This was simply short for reasons of buildup, and not revealing too much. Hope you enjoyed! If you did, I'd love to hear a review!