Control
Arcturus Mengsk is losing control.
Not of his mind, thank you very much-he may be taking after his father physically, but his mind will remain stable for many decades to come, thank you very much Miss Lockwell. No...he's losing control of what truly matters. The Dominion. His people. His power.
Gazing out across the city of Augustgrad from his palace, smoke from the fires of civil disobedience still visible, he wonders how it could have come to this. One moment. One broadcast. One intercepted transmission from the final throes of the Confederacy's unlamented demise and suddenly he's gone from being a noble leader to a dictator. A tyrant. A mass murderer. Someone as horrific as the zerg, if not more so. It's as if all the good he's done for humanity now means nothing, and that once again, humans are more comfortable fighting amongst themselves rather than the true menaces.
He did his duty, didn't he? He's ruled fairly and justly, has taken the necessary steps to ensure mankind's survival, has built an empire of law and order...Once he shouldered it as a benevolent ruler and champion of the common folk, and now that weight on his shoulders has been replaced with what feels like the entire universe. Right now, the only way some of that weight might be removed is if he loses what resides between those two shoulders. His family met such a fate, didn't they, courtesy of the Confederacy? The real evil? The predecessor to the shining beacon of law and justice that is the Dominion?
As yet another pillar of smoke rises to the sky, clearly the people don't think so.
A lesser man might lash out, might want to break something. But while humankind has clearly mixed up monsters with heroes, Arcturus does no such thing. Let those media jackals feed upon his outdated words all they want, it won't change anything, he reassures himself. Only great visionaries can change the galaxy, only men such as himself. Not people who are miserable excuses for human beings at best whose idea of justice is weakening the foundations of rule and hijacking broadcast towers and siege-walkers in order to portray their version of 'truth...'if such a thing really exists.
It's not just the Dominion he has to worry about either, Arcturus reflects. The Kel-Morian Combine, the Umojan Protectorate...strangely, it's the latter that concerns him more. He wonders what Ailin Pasteur, that sanctimonious bastard is doing right now. Laughing at his former ally's misfortune? And what of Juliana? Is she turning in her grave or laughing right alongside daddy? Arcturus doesn't know and as he makes his way to his drinks cabinet and enters the combination with more force than necessary, Arcturus tells himself he doesn't care.
A lie. But after a few glasses of klaava wine, it might become truth. Almost...
How long will this last, the emperor wonders? Will the people come to their senses and accept his benevolence? Or will history repeat itself and the Dominion follow in the steps of its predecessor, only without any good reason to? Valerian, at least, might provide another pillar of strength, but since he's off doing God knows what right now, Arcturus isn't so sure. He just hopes that even as Valerian sees his father's rule crumbling, he remembers where his loyalties lie.
Pouring his first glass of klaava, Arcturus isn't too hopeful.