The Irony of Pretentiousness
Chapter 10
As though he possessed an innate alarm clock, Albel rose from his slumber before the sun was directly overhead. No one had bothered to wake him, which meant that Arzei's lapdog had yet to make an appearance. Thankfully, what little sleep Albel gained had granted him enough awareness to handle any of Vox's underhanded social ploys -if Vox was not allowed to implement violence, he possessed an acumen for manipulation that he had never wasted time unleashing.
With a quick motion of his legs, Albel launched himself off of the bed, and landed flawlessly, both feet on the floor. He did not feel content in changing out of his uniform, so he proceeded towards the mess hall.
Soldiers littered the benches, sloppily devouring their fine meals -paid for by the taxes of the Airyglyphian citizens. No, paying for such meals (which Arzei had demanded the soldiers receive) was not something that the affluent King would bother to do: get the hard-working public to do it instead. Though Albel did not normally feel pity for the social underlings, he understood the financial implications of various social classes: and due to such knowledge, he felt that Arzei was despicable.
Scoffing at the feral expressions of these loud-mouthed maggots, Albel felt inclined to whip the crowd into shape -mainly by meticulously slicing them with his claws. Sadly, this was an unbecoming act -even for a notorious military captain. Instead, he made his presence known by tactfully throwing his katana, which pierced the wall at the other end of the room. The sound of silence from the crowd resonated longer than the crash of the alloy piercing the brick. All eyes, fearfully, upon Albel: he had made his point, yet he felt compelled to yell at the whimpering muts.
Casting a grinning glare towards his inferiors, Albel proceeded to chastise them, "Though you are no better than pigs at a trough, it would serve your health well to at least pretend that you are disciplined."
Though Shelby was closer to the pierced wall than Albel, the room was silent enough for Albel to assess that Shelby was the one who snickered... Or did he scoff? What did it matter: it was just another reason to make an example out of him.
"As all of you are aware, I can pierce far more than walls without the permission of Arzei." Shooting Shelby a swift smirking glare Albel continued, "Even though easy wins have never been my style, I would not hesitate to use any soldier of any rank to set an example. Yes, an example which would dangle upon the walls, by the fortitude of my blade, until his flesh corrodes to dust."
Shelby scoffed this time, Albel was sure of it, and he became infuriated. Before Albel could spout a quick line of threat, or gesture violently, he was shocked by the slow, sarcastic applause of a single person... Vox.
"So this is what you call military discipline, Nox?" Albel need not turn around to see that Vox was smiling smugly.
"Hmph," Albel shook his head, "What exactly do you expect a Captain to do? Implementing your methods of blowing smoke up of ones' rear end is a travesty."
Albel could practically hear Vox's cocky smile widen, "Surely you are aware that positive reinforcement is the cornerstone of a powerful military?"
How Albel longed to swing clenched fists at this pathetic joke of a military Captain.
Laughing, Vox discreetly taunted Albel, "Your father was akin to me in that regard."
Albel spun around, face knotted with rage, claw raised towards his loathed enemy, "Don't liken my father to the disposable, lap dog which you are!"
Eerily, nothing about Vox's demeanour or expression had changed: he stood perfectly postured, with a condescending stare, and a half-smile bearing his left canines, "I would consider it better to be a lap dog than a tyrant."
"Through tyranny, I will accomplish more than you have been able to fathom!"
"Come whatever may, you are still an infant in this spectrum." Vox grinned.
"What do you mean?" Albel shouted.
Shaking his head pompously, Vox replied, "You are no more prepared for the task of running an elite military force than you were the day you cost your father his life."
"You callous bastard!" Albel ran towards Vox, punching him in the face with a bare hand, knocking Vox to the ground.
Vox looked up at Albel, who was writhing and panting in fury, responding with nothing more than a smile to the malicious blow.
"What the Hell do you have to smile about?" Albel sneered.
Vox laughed coldly, "I am giving you taste of your own medicine, you infantile brat! It is the same ruthless warfare which you use to train these soldiers. So how do you feel?"
"I want to kill you!"
"I wonder how many of your self-described 'underlings' feel the same way..."
"Do you think that their petty emotions are of my concern? I am running a base here, not a tavern!"
Vox lifted himself easily to his feet, brushing off the dust, beaming at Albel, "Have you never heard of mutiny? Coup d'etat? You of all people who stress realism should understand the implications of your attitudes towards your soldiers. Lest you be usurped, I advise that you learn the customary measures of military function."
Albel could begin to hear hisses of 'tyrant' coming from the crowd of easily lead drones. He no longer wanted to deal with Vox's torture. Albel regained his composure, "Be silent on any matter other than your business."
"Very well," Vox's false sincerity was overwhelmed by a smug demeanour, "I am here because King Airyglyph demands your presence in the Kingdom's capital. It is a very personal matter regarding much of what we recently discussed."
"Is that all?"
"Yes."
"You came all the way here for that?" Albel laughed heartily, "You really are nothing more than a servant."
Vox nearly frowned, "A servant for our King, the provider of all for our military forces. You would do well to remember that, Nox."
"I would, were I foolish enough to not realize that the true financial providers of our forces are no more than citizens of this Kingdom -most of whom can barely afford to feed their children."
"I thought that you did not care for the petty problems of others." Vox scoffed.
Albel sneered, "There is a large difference between struggling to survive, and being handed everything you need. Of course, you wouldn't know that, because you have always been of the latter."
Vox slightly shrugged, "You may be right, but I have more to take care of than to waste time arguing here with you, Nox."
"Begone! Run your errands for your nephew who knows nothing more of the world beyond his dynastic title."
"Aye, I will. Lastly, King Airyglyph demands that you are in his presence before sundown tomorrow."
"Understood... Fetch."
Vox turned out of the mess hall, walking down the dank and dark corridor towards the entrance. Albel was left in the company of mindless, constructed glares of soldiers. He cast them all a grin, laughing to himself. Albel had never experienced anger to that extreme, it was nearly a high. He looked towards Shelby, who mirrored Vox's self-satisfied smile. "What are you smiling about, you one-note-joke? Mind your own business!"
Thankfully, Shelby was easier to scare than Vox, so he quickly ran out of the room with his tail between his legs. The cold glares within the room had not gone away, and Albel could swear that he could still hear the faint hisses.
"Listen up, worms!" Albel shouted, "If so much as one of you attempt to threaten my position in any more than a theoretical manner, it will cost you your head!"
Silence.
Albel chuckled, "I have always wanted to hand Shelby's head to Arzei on a silver platter, garnished with lettuce, with an apple stuck between that pig's cheeks."
It was common knowledge amidst the Black Brigade that Shelby was planning to over-throw Albel with the other soldiers utilized as support. They all seemed to believe that Shelby would be the better leader. Albel admitted that Shelby and himself were alike in one aspect: hedonism. They were both incredibly selfish, and in anything only for pleasure. Shelby got a kick out of the idea of running an elite force, but never bothered to do the calculations regarding work. He is nothing more than a loud-mouthed activist who could offer the soldiers nothing more than a free ride with a shovel to dig their own graves.
At least Albel is honest. Shelby is stringing them along with idealistic notions of equality, empathetic rule, and any other sentimental junk that he could muster up. There are ranks established in the military for a reason, to permit military success through evaluating each soldier's skills, thus rendering equality pointless. You cannot send a grunt to the front-lines without copious amounts of training, you can rarely teach a skilled archer the way of the blade, and you can never expect someone who is used to a high title to preform menial labour which grunts are expected to do. Empathetic rule at that point would mean nothing because many people would be dissatisfied, thus eventually demanding change anyway.
These morons would be strung around, with no structure, serious discipline, or punishment, and they would never learn anything more than reliance on others instead of autonomy. Albel would not deny that teamwork on the battlefield is occasionally necessary, however everyone must know survival tactics -it is essential in the training as decreed by Arzei!
Albel had become bored with analyzing the fools' reasoning. There was nothing better to do around the base, and he did not feel compelled to stay there. He decided that he would go to Airyglyph city a day early, spend a night at the inn, and pay Arzei a visit in the morning.