Otto stared at the snowflakes dancing in the moonlight seeping into the cell. He hadn't been able to sleep for Od knows how long.
Betrayed. Both he and Subaru. Subaru by an unknown force, and Otto by Subaru. The words from the interrogation chamber echoed in the cold steel of the isolator cell. It didn't matter that Otto gave up everything for the cause. It did not matter that he was the first to join Subaru's side, and stayed by him through thick and thin. When the time came, he was thrown out over a suspicion, not even a true crime. The hammer came down on him simply because he was the nearest one.
Their allegiances had been tested before. Otto never faltered in his support. Neither did Subaru. But now things changed. Otto tried to force down the anxious trembling in his hands and turned to lie on his side, staring at the stone wall.
Turns out that when you're on top of the world, "friends" and "loyalty" become out of style. At least the gracious "President" had spared him a trip under the Razor. No, now the Ex-Right Hand was put under "house arrest" until further notice in one of the highest spires of the palace. And so he lay there, trembling from the cold wind blowing into his cell.
They didn't starve him and he didn't lack water, but there was very little care for him as soon as he had his title rescinded. Otto shrugged off that unpleasant feeling welling up in his stomach. He was not one to hold a grudge or even rage. That was Subaru's job…
And there he goes again. Subaru this, Subaru that. Closing his eyes, he would try to get some sleep though the attempt was short-lived.
He didn't know if he had fallen asleep or simply gotten drowsy, but murmurs behind the door caught his attention.
"This the cell?"
"Yes, brother."
"Very well. Make sure we're not disturbed."
The door creaked open as a figure walked into the cell. Otto felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as the person entered, not because of their presence but because the many voices of the rats and mites within the walls and wood of the spire had suddenly gone silent.
"My, how the mighty have fallen." Walking forward and sitting down crosslegged on the stone floor, the figure put its chin on its hand, looking Otto over. "How goes prison?"
Otto sat up, rubbing his shoulders to warm himself up, not taking his eyes off of his visitor. While the man's tone was casual, his presence wasn't. What did Subaru say about power disbalance? 'Play the game until you know the rules'?
Otto needed a second to get himself under control. Stuttering wasn't a good start. "Could be better." He tried to get comfortable, sitting back against the wall, also trying to seem casual. "Might I ask who I am talking to?"
"A friend of sorts. Let's just say I know you better than you know me." The figure chuckled, the sudden noise being muffled as if he was wearing a mask, "I'm a friend of Revolution but not of its leaders. How about that?"
"A name would be good." Otto continued rubbing his shoulders. Something unnatural hung over the man. It was as if everything began to freeze. An Authority user, possibly?
"Well…" The man paused, "How about Cepheus? Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Cepheus suddenly burst to his feet, his figure being lit up by the moonlight, "Cepheus, The Greater Archbishop of Treachery! Yes, that certainly seems to get my blood running…"
While from the dark, it was hard to tell, it seemed that almost the whole of the Archbishop's body was armoured. Gauntlets, an extensive cuirass, shoulder padding and a full-head helmet borrowed from some heavy cavalry, no doubt. The man's top half looked like it was bulletproof at the very least. Strips of yellow fabric were wrapped around the armour haphazardly, somehow reminding Otto of the Knight burials where the corpse would be wrapped in his dynastical banner, no matter how torn it was.
"A…" He took a gulp, almost stuttering again, instead suppressing the urge and pausing. "A pleasure, though I do not see how I warrant your attention."
"Oh, but you do." Cepheus sat back down again, the armour giving an audible clank. "See, both you and I have a vested interest against the great all-mighty President, do we not?"
So that's his game, an anti-Subarean alliance. "So you want me to help you out?" Otto sat forward, feigning only slight interest. This could be a different kind of opportunity, not revenge but…
"Your life is over. Dear old Pres took all of your belongings. Your land. Even your family's businesses. Don't you want a little payback?" Cepheus craned his neck, the sheets of metal creaking. "Decide now, for very soon; it will be too late."
Otto smiled, "I suppose I do… I suppose I do. In the end, what Subaru is doing isn't freeing people, is he?" This was a great opportunity, a perfect one.
He now had direct access into this group, and soon he would bring it crashing down. Otto would save Subaru, even if his comrade wronged him. Then he would get it back. He would get it all back. "So, how about you get me out of this cell?"
"-why it is simple, Mister Rovalius, as we can see, by rational observation, there is clear outside differences between the human and demi-human race, same as there is a difference between, say, a human and a Ground Dragon-"
"No, no, my question is NOT whether there is a difference on a natural level, however how we can classify all demi-humans in one go."
"Well, quite simple really, as you see the great rulers of this world, the great dominators and victors have mostly been human. I can give you dozens of examples, from as far back as before the Great Calamity, to the modern-day with the Vollachian Emperor. It has also been shown that it is a struggle between two, the civilized and the barbarian. If we have a clear definition of civilisation within the human side of the dichotomy, an event such as the Demi-Human War clearly shows the opposing side of the dichotomy, that is the Demi-Humans."
"Well, for example, how are we so sure that an oni is not more racially superior to, oh, I don't know, an elf? Besides, aren't the Demi-Humans a separate occurrence from these races?"
"Because these divisions, while on the outside quite clear, ignore the simple truths of the great dichotomy. Yes, an elf, an oni and a Demi-Human are not the same, but on the basic instinctual level both have the same hostile and violent Demi-Human reaction to enlightenment and civilization brought on by humans, we see that both in the case of the Demi-Human War and the modern conflicts of the Vollachian Empire with the Shudraki villages. Even with the epitome of human progress, President Natsuki-"
"Yes, yes, quite a waste. The President's efforts could be better suited to furthering the Republic rather than trying to form a dialogue with some unintelligent rabble."
"The President, while one of the Great Men, so to say, has also unfortunately shown the overt problem of civilisation, its inability to purge itself of uncivilised parasitism through education and force, instead weakening its grip due to rational reflex. If we were to-"
Subaru sighed as he pulled the hood of his overcoat further down over his face, not wishing to be recognised in this place. The Unionists had chosen their centre of operations to be a repurposed pub, now much more refined, the crowds of black-jacketed ex-militiamen separated by small groups of older and not outwardly offensive types as they murmured away in their arguments.
'Rovalius Flitch, Harmen Drifort, even the professor of what used to be the Royal Institute, Grenarium Divten. Educated people, smart men and women, and yet…'
Promoting rationality came with the problem of people beginning to rationalise their own biases if not outward hatreds. Racialism, The Human's Burden, the 'Duty to Civilize'. A bizarre mish-mash of progress and, at the same time, a newer form of more clearly argued regress.
Swirling the mead in his tankard, Subaru took his final sip and stood up, making sure his arm in the sling was well hidden. While usually, he preferred to be extremely punctual, always 15 minutes ahead of the schedule, talking to the self-proclaimed 'Ideologus' of the Unionists was not something he wished to do. And besides, he was the President, damn it, he had the right to be late, especially at such short notice in the middle of the night. His eyes stung slightly, but he quickly re-focused, not allowing the lack of sleep to withhold him from his hopefully short mission to this hive of national embarrassment.
Slipping past the groups, he did reconsider not bringing his Guard with him. However, in the end, that would probably make him too curious of an individual for people to not look into. Better this than having even a moniker of association with the black jackets.
Passing through into the pub's back, Subaru checked his weapons. There was no reason for them to assault him, but they still did not give him any reason to trust them, especially after recent developments. Though, in the end, he was the President after all, they would not try anything unless they risked the Republic's downfall. The heavy wooden door creaked as the President entered the room of the Ideologus.
Regulus Cromwell was seated at the table like a king on a throne, listening to one of his black jacket officers reporting to him. "Right, yeah. You keep an eye on that one." Much has changed about the Unionist, his mud-coloured beard had grown out, and bags had developed under his eyes. The lighting from the twisted iron wall candelabra did him no favours, the flickering flames giving his skin a sickly yellowish hue.
"Unsanctioned espionage over Republican citizens." Subaru did not raise his voice, he simply let the pressure within his tone do its job. "I see you are hard at work, as per usual."
"Nothing espionage-based 'ere, simple preservation of national peace." The Ideologus scrunched up his nose, "Better 'han the army does, anyways."
"That is a bold claim." Subaru did not take a seat, even though the man beside Cromwell offered him a simple wooden chair. He continued to tower over the ex-officer.
Subaru wouldn't be able to discern Cromwell from a crowd if he could. Be it his slightly below-average height, brown hair, hooked and slightly crooked nose, or a grin filled with some damaged teeth, Cromwell looked similar to any subpar peasant joining the Revolutionary Guard. Though, unlike the officer's parallel-world English namesake, the Ideologus cut his hair short, a crude buzzcut performed by a hand razor. (While Subaru many times tried to discern why some names so closely resembled Earthly ones, especially stars, he soon gave up. There were bigger things at hand.)
But this averageness, he considered, is probably what made Cromwell such an appealing figure. He could see nothing in this man. He wasn't particularly militarily skilled, from the records of his service. He wasn't politically skilled, as he rode the same issue to the end. He wasn't even charismatic to simply charm people into his point of view.
But behind those benign eyes, there was some bizarre stamina, some persistence, the power to break down walls by simply smashing one's head against them long enough. And that average close-mindedness, that average fascination with big words of a new scientific yet still prejudiced society, and that average low cunning spoke to peasants. It told them, "It's fine to be hateful, it's fine to be spiteful, it's okay to rabidly persist and turn a possibility into a self-fulfilling prophecy. You shouldn't feel guilty about despising your fellow man for their birth, for acting like a dolt, for perverting study and turning it for your own benefit, because I don't feel guilty for anything at all, ever. And I'm in the government, so you can do it too. Maybe they'll give you an office like me."
And that was that, a pure genius of the crowd. Subaru pinned him with his gaze, waiting silently. The Ideologus pinned him back, but he was inexperienced, quickly moving his eyes away and clearing his throat, "I er… I called upon ye because we've got sum bad info from a beastfuck."
"Do go on." Subaru continued to stare patiently. His arm in the sling was beginning to ache, probably the nerves.
A document slid to him from across the table. Eyeing it and ensuring that it wasn't covered in anything toxic, Subaru opened it. The pages were rough and cheap, the paper must have been stored in some terrible conditions, with a leaky container or no container at all.
But all of his observations of the small details were swept away by the words on the paper. Vigenere cypher, Subaru wasn't the one who created this type of code in this world, but he was the one that popularised it within conspiracies and armies. Simple to use with a keyword, impenetrable otherwise. The black jackets were majority military men, so they probably had an army cypherer in their midst; the decoding grid was scratched into the paper.
"Beat 'em key out of the beastfuck we caught snooping about. Thought it would be a regular situation, beastfucks being beastfucks, but-" Cromwell's muttering didn't matter to Subaru as he desperately continued to translate, his finger moving along the lines, muttering to himself.
The code word, "Treachery," by itself was ominous, but the message gave him an unpleasant shake in his bones. "ON THE MORROW COMMA MIDNIGHT FULL ST"
It did not state when or what was occurring, but it was nothing good. The Liberationists were going to make a move, and he had to prepare. Is this was Miklotov felt when he heard the news of armies pulling out without orders to do so? Is this how collapse smelt?
"When did you get this paper?" Subaru stuffed it into his pocket. He needed all of his most loyal officers and the whole of his inner circle, especially Halibel. They needed to mount a defence, lock down the Capital, and start a purging of internal government if he had to. Of course, one message wasn't much to go on, but he was tired of this game. This paranoia, this sitting and waiting. He was going to act on it; this was his excuse.
Yes, just an excuse. Somewhere in the shadow, he felt a glimpse of that gas mask that came to him in his nightmares, the reflection of a gunshot, the whistle of trains, the hissing of gas.
"Yesterday, we got it yesterday. Took us a while to decode the bloody thing." Subaru couldn't read Cromwell's expression. Or rather, he didn't want to believe it. A glim predatory expression crawled up the Ideologus's face. This wasn't a warning; this was a simple message scrawled for Subaru, "You're fucked."
"Considering its contents…" Cromwell lifted his hand, several black jackets emerging from the shadows; Subaru had not noticed them through the haze of the mead he drank before the meeting, "We, as the sons of our greater patria, would like to take ye, Our President, under guard, at least for the time of this possible crisis. For ye protection, of course."
Right, protection. This was a soft coup in the making. Subaru had gotten too used to his status as President, even with the attacks on him, he still believed that the political establishment beneath him was still loyal. Now he had overplayed his status; he had come straight to the den of an enemy, blinded by his own pain and paranoia. The scariest part is when Cromwell would tell the people in the pub that he is doing this to protect Subaru; most would believe him.
They would keep him around to have a monopoly on power when the instability came, and when push came to shove, he'd be forced to legitimise them. Subaru threw a gaze at the black jackets and Cromwell. Five in total, no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to take them all out without his authorities, especially with how closely they were looking at him. His weapons would take three on a good day, and that's with a good arm. He overestimated himself. 'Damn, damn, damn…'
"Hey, Pres. This is really for your safety." One of the black jackets boomed guiltily, "We know some 'em dirty beastfucks wanna hurt ya, in the army too. So no need to start anything, we just wanna help."
They really did believe Cromwell. Subaru sighed, "So you want me to hand over my weapons?"
"That would be for the best, Pres." The black jacket extended his hand, "It's just for safekeeping."
'Safekeeping, right.' Subaru took out his flintlock, looking it over. The thing was still loaded, he could turn it on Cromwell, but there was no way he could be sure of getting out of this alive. Besides, Cromwell was probably a mask for the whole thing, this ugly muck that leaked out of the revolution. One death doesn't always change everything.
Extending the gun on the top of his palm, he would wait for the black jacket to take it. It wasn't over, but this was a setback, a setback that would take years and years and years to correct…
Subaru's world shook, his knees nearly buckling under him. 'FIRE NOW!' An explosion ripped through the air, the sound having come from outside the pub, the black jackets all turning their heads at the noise, except for Subaru. Subaru had this deja-vu before. Maybe death had begun to affect him more and more. But in the end, even Halibel's glyph couldn't stop Return by Death.
Taking the split second of confusion, Subaru flipped the gun, the trigger securely under his index finger. The black jacket turned around at the noise; his dumb swine face filling with understanding.
The gunshot ripped the black jacket's stomach, throwing him against the wall. Not waiting for the next attack, Subaru swung behind him, the flintlock's jaw connecting with the second captor's temple, the second black jacket sagging.
"DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY! WE MUST PROTECT HIM!" Cromwell screeched, diving behind the table, terrified of a possible consecutive shot from Subaru.
'Two down, I have to get ou-' A set of strong arms locked around his shoulders, Subaru screaming in pain as his captor squeezed his injured arm. Another black jacket approached him from the other side, raising his fist.
Summoning his remaining strength, Subaru leveraged his weight and lifted his legs, kicking the enemy in front of him. The black jacket holding Subaru would lose balance, falling back and slamming against one of the candelabras, his grasp weakening. In the end, for their size and strength, they were still militia.
"NO, YOU IDIOT, DON'T FIRE!" Cromwell hung on the fifth black jacket's arm, trying to wrestle the flintlock out of his hand, "ALIVE! WE NEED HIM ALIVE!" Seizing the opportunity, Subaru wrung himself out of the unconscious black jacket's hold and charged the door.
The other militiamen must not have been informed about what was occurring; Subaru bursting out was met with shock and surprise, several people trying to call on him. Though those calling on him were the minority, the black jackets had a new threat to reckon with.
Subaru recognised the scene, or rather, felt it through his deja-vu. The explosion from the outside was cannon fire directed into the pub, though the attacker was clearly inexperienced: the small holes in the walls indicated them trying to fire grapeshot through the windows, a fool's affair at this range. The entrance was blocked up by the fighting crowd, the black jacket officers had seized the opportunity to use the narrowness of the doorway to not allow the enemy to use their numbers. At most, the battle was three-on-three as the rest wrestled near the windows to block the enemy from any more points of access.
Another shot boomed as grapeshot whistled through one of the windows, turning the top half of a black jacket into a fine mist, though only splashing his comrades with blood. Maybe the assaulting commander did not know what ammunition to use for sieging, or maybe this was the only ammunition he had.
Subaru pulled his hood over his head and snuck past, trying to disintegrate into the crowd of civilians hugging the walls. The professors and orators that had been discussing the inferiority of demi-humans over a keg just minutes ago were now visibly shitting themselves. Pushing past them up the stairs, Subaru peeked through the second-floor corridor.
Pubs usually kept those for guest rooms, and with the minute size of this pub, it had six rooms at best, but they always had windows. If he found a good window near another building, he could jump the gap and slip down the roof unnoticed. Thankfully, fortune smiled at him as there was a window at the end of the small corridor.
Marching to it, Subaru pushed it open and looked around. The building beside him was a tenement one, though of the old design, two-floored and hay-roofed. Under his breath, Subaru thanked the Gods that he hadn't gotten to renovating this district. Whoever the enemies of the black jackets were, they didn't take positions on this side of the building, though Subaru could hear struggling around the corner next to the back door. Either lacking time or men, they held down only the main chokepoints.
"Stop 'im!" Cromwell had finally caught up to him, Subaru looked over his shoulder as several more black jackets struggled up the stairs. "Don't let 'im get away!" The newly-minted front of refinement melted away, the desperate Ideologus reverting to his old manner of speech.
"No running start then…" Subaru grumbled, squeezing through and stabilising himself on the sill. This would have been quicker with two arms, but there was no chance he could use his injured arm with how badly the black jacket grabbed it.
"And a one-two…" Subaru pushed off, plummeting through the air. Somewhere deep inside, he felt satisfied. Satisfied? Everything was burning around him; there was fighting in the streets between an extreme faction and an unknown assailant, one of them wielding military assets. But maybe that's why he felt satisfied. Rebuilding the world was a terribly difficult task, boring and all-consuming. He was a breaker, not a maker. Running from forces greater than him, getting out of impossible situations and learning from his deaths, fighting and using every asymmetrical tactic in the book, this was him. He was a professional revolutionary, so why did he think he could ever settle down..?
These thoughts would be knocked out of him as he landed face-first on the hay roof of the neighbouring building. Desperately trying to grab onto the wet and slippery fibres, he would exclaim as he lost his grip and rolled down the angled roof, yowling as he landed on his hurt arm. Blinded by the pain and rolling in the dirt, Subaru was able to focus enough to see Cromwell's silhouette in the outline of the pub's second-floor window.
"Oh shit!" Subaru rolled to the side as a shot lifted up dust in the spot where he had fallen seconds ago. The Ideologus must have decided if he couldn't have Subaru, no one could. Thankfully, the darkness of the alleyway had covered Subaru, the President sneaking by as Cromwell fired a few more blind shots into the dark, before giving up and retreating back into the pub.
"Well, you look like a right mess." Doltero Amule, the recently promoted financial head of the republic, chuckled as he helped Otto get the blindfold off, "They really must have starved you, huh?"
"Mister Amule?" Otto exclaimed in surprise as he looked around. The room was one of the mansions outside the city wall; clearly, the glow of the city was barely visible through the window.
"Not only him." Hailey muttered, his expression filled with its usual exhaustion as he looked out of he stood in the corner with crossed arms, "Welcome to the True Subarists club."
Otto lifted his eyes and recognised quite a few of the individuals sitting at the table. Many of them were from his retinue from the times of the ex-merchant Convention wing, and a few were new additions, though their clothes signified their lower status. They must not have been successful enough to get elected.
"The True Subarists?" Otto tried to hide his surprise, but he couldn't really replicate the way Subaru was always able to pretend that he had seen things before, "Uh, enlighten me?"
"Let me," Doltero Amule stood up, and coughed, the merchants, businessmen and even a few early KP members going quiet, "Gentlemen… no, that wouldn't be quite inclusive, now would it?" The crowd gave a muted laugh.
"Gentlebeings! Welcome, welcome, welcome. I would like to welcome back our ideological leader from exile. Applause, please." Doltero helped Otto stand up, the young merchant now completely confused at what was going on. The meeting room clapped politely, several giving respectful looks to Otto.
"Now, as we had not included dear Mister Suwen in our charter, we will have to fill him in on our mission statement." Dolter helped Otto sit back down and tried to give a recreation of a fatherly smile, though the light of the candelabra above him and his pig-looking features made it seem more nightmarish than anything.
"As of recent, many of us had been put under sanction from the government. Kicked out of power, our teeth pulled out for mere suspicion of treachery." Doltero nodded sadly, the room joining in boos and muttered obscenities, "Yes, quite painful. To see the Republic turn on its own principles, to undermine the very class of citizen that built it."
Doltero clicked his tongue, "Which is why we, the True Subarists, must correct course! Natsuki Subaru, our President, had fallen to the temptation of power, and it is our mission to restore the Republic! A toast, gentlebeings! A toast to us all!"
Those that held glasses raised them, "Hear, hear!" Otto, on the other hand, sat in shock, unsure of how to respond. Besides the anxiety of somehow becoming an ideological leader for a faction he didn't even know existed, while he knew Subaru had taken some action against his faction, he didn't think that he had been dismantled. An unpleasant cold vacuum filled Otto's stomach as if his whole tower of confidence had been shaken.
'No, no, there must have been a good reason for this. Subaru wouldn't do such things without proof. What they're doing here is clearly treason, so I better keep my ears open and report back once I can lose these guys.' Otto got comfortable in his seat and breathed out to relax. This wasn't the first time he was working under pressure to give his leader out, he could handle it.
"As you may have now heard, several of the rebellious factions within the Capital had risen under the tyrant's nose! Drink to us, for freedom shall be restored soon!" Doltero bellowed, the other businessmen, traders and merchants cheering again.
Otto snuck out of his chair while Doltero continued his soliloquising and tugged on Hailey's sleeve, "Can we talk in the hall?"
The darkness of the corridor felt more familiar after all the time Otto had spent in the cell. "Enough of the speeches; you're a military man, so catch me up on things. What did Subaru do after he imprisoned me?"
Hailey sighed, rubbing his temples, "Look, so…"
Subaru pushed past some garbage mounds and chuckled to himself. What would the electorate think, their great President wading through mud and food refuse to get home, jumping at every sound? Probably not much, as they were in the same situation.
The streets had erupted into fighting and skirmishing, though thankfully not as grandiose as the taking of the Capital. Small bands of men in improvised uniforms opened fire at each other at most squares, and Subaru had sworn he saw some Revolutionary Guard units fighting each other.
"What in Od's name is going..?" Subaru scratched his chin and only noticed the strain on his facial muscles. He was smiling. This reminded him of hit-and-run tactics of the insurgency and his times working with the banditry… a simpler time…
No, this wasn't the time to get nostalgic, let alone excited! He had to fix this somehow, but first, he needed a good overview of the situation, a report, and someone who understood what was going on.
The rebels he had thought were cowed into submission emerged from the shadows, and the scariest part was that he didn't recognise any of them. Sure, there were a few Liberationists and what looked like Monarchist dandies, but they were a minute part of what looked like a wave that overtook the streets of the Capital.
"Alright, first priority…" Subaru stopped and closed his eyes, formulating a plan. First was the preservation of his life and, in turn, Capella's life. Second, find loyalist divisions, whoever they were. Third, get a better understanding of the situation. Fourth, act on that.
"Beware, Prophet. Beware repetition. After all, there's always a snake in the garden. One already took her way back whe-"
Subaru shooed away the apparition, closing his eyes to not see the glint of the gas mask. He was nothing, no one, nation personified. He was not attached; he was coldly dispassionate. That's how he was supposed to be. So what if the Knights did that to her? So what? He didn't care because he was not he. Nothing. No one. His hands searched for the Bocco powder box, only finding a little pinch. It wasn't mana he needed, no…
The Bocco powder coursed through his brain, and Subaru's eyes fluttered open. The haunting presence was gone. The thoughts of her were gone too. "I continue winning against you, witch. You said I had a weak heart all those years back." Subaru snorted, continuing down the dark alley towards his apartment. "I'll just make sure it never raises its voice, ever."
Otto sat in the cushioned chair in the darkened corridor, the seat was originally meant for servants, but right now it didn't really matter. His legs had given out from the implications.
"An… An alliance?" Otto's mouth felt dry as sand, his lips barely moving.
"It wasn't a quick process or a smooth one. In fact, when the Liberationists sent that Treacherite assassin to shoot old President, we were all shocked ourselves." Hailey sighed, his arms were still crossed, as if his defensiveness would protect from Otto's possible outburst.
Otto, however, had exhausted himself long ago and all that came out was a confused groan, "'We'?"
"The True Subarites, yes." Hailey chuckled, "I know, it's ironic, considering the name, but old President has forgotten his roots. I wasn't fully on-board with how the True Subarites wanted to deal with things but when he invited us to these meetings, the Four as it used to be called, I understood what Doltero meant."
"It's not right to say that everything will be elected and free and fair and then sit in the shadows." Hailey's tired eyes glinted in the darkness, recapturing some of that fire that he had when he went on his tirades during the Four's meetings, "So we have to make course correction. Even if it takes spilling some blood."
"And Chin?" Otto feared hearing the answer.
"Rachins?" Hailey scratched his jaw, "No idea, it could have been any one of our alliance. As I said, there's no real head, only an informal agreement. The fact of the matter, I think this business with the old President will be done soon, and it will be high time to begin fighting all the other parties to our conflict."
"But how am I important to all this?" Otto pleaded. This was certain madness he was being pulled into. They were going to overturn Subaru, the man who built and steered this whole ship from day one and beyond that there was… He didn't know what was beyond that.
"You're a revolutionary brother of his, one he cast out for nothing but the suspicion of disloyalty. You are the symbol to the many hopeful souls, those waiting for true freedom." Hailey rounded Otto's chair and stood on one knee, keeping his gaze level with Otto's, "With you, WE can do this right."
'They've all gone mad here.' Otto suddenly felt very far away, as if his body was not his own anymore, a numb puppet with terrible strings. 'MAD!' It was all happening under their noses, and neither he nor Subaru noticed this literal tumour growing on the Revolution's underbelly! A literal alliance of counter-revolutionaries! With a merchant, beastmen and an Archbishop at its head!
But a sudden thought cut off the stream of panic: Were they wrong? Was Hailey wrong? Sure, the Archbishop that freed him looked like bad news for the Republic, and so did the Liberationists, but the True Subarites? From Hailey's rhetoric, he at least believed what Doltero was saying. That maybe this was a real chance at a do-over. Subaru was a good leader; he had let these ideas prosper, but even he wasn't infallible.
But then another thought crushed the doubts, for Otto thought back to the room where Doltero was still waxing lyrical. Merchants, businessmen, KP… and not a single revolutionary. No, this wasn't an attempt to save the Revolution, only to appropriate it. While Otto believed in business interests, the prospect of a second Kararagi entering this world filled him with dread.
"So, what do you think?" Hailey continued to drill Otto with his gaze. "Don't you want things to be just like in the Subarean Code?"
Otto gulped before raising his gaze. For now, he would observe and try to find their weakness. Even as a figurehead, he would be more able to save the Republic than as a dead man or a civilian. "A-alright… Alright."
"Open up, right now!" The soldier continued to hammer on the door of Subaru's building, causing the barricade behind it to rattle, "In the name of the Republic, open up!"
Subaru continued to observe the small unit that must have come to apprehend him from behind a corner, analyzing the uniform. The exact same military attire as of the Revolutionary Guard, but with blue pieces of paper pinned to their hats and jackets. 'What kind of nonsense is this…'
Instead of an answer, a shot rang out from one of the second-floor windows, smoke billowing as the unit scrambled to drop to the floor or take cover against the building's wall. Someone shouted from inside the building. "Go on, cowards! Try to come in, and I shall show you the valiance of the Revolutionary Guard!"
Ah, and that was his young Guardsman in there. The young soldier must have acted quickly, being able to barricade the door and windows alone. Subaru smiled to himself as he backed away, into the shadow, considering his options.
He could go in head-first, but while he could probably take a fight with his Authorities and uninjured limbs, the contract with Capella was still in effect, and his arm still burned from the strain he put on it during his escape. 'Stealth it is…'
Rounding the building and shimmying between the two brick apartment buildings, his boots pushing past the trash, snow and refuse, Subaru emerged out back. The residents had long run away from the violence or had taken cover and waited out the trouble; the windows were mostly dark and it was quiet despite the shots. Checking the corner, he would nearly stumble into the back of another infiltrator, the military man fruitlessly fumbling with lockpicks a mere couple feet away.
The unit that was sieging Subaru's apartment was clearly not going to be satisfied by a rejection, though they clearly lacked experience in arresting their target. The militia, as ragtag and undisciplined, was undoubtedly more competent; cutthroats always knew when to drop pretences and use their violent backup plans. Drilled soldiers could make a good firing line, but improvisation like this came with more difficulty.
'Is the army in on this? Or are these select units turning on me?' Subaru considered as he pulled out his flintlock and brazenly paced up to the bent-over soldier. The timing was almost perfect; as the soldier turned his head at the intruder and reached for his own weapon, just in time for the metallic barrel smashing against the side of his face. Taking a deep breath and gathering his strength, Subaru brought the gun down a couple more times, letting the blood spill on the cobbles.
Tearing the improvised wire picks out of the lock and taking out his key, Subaru breathed out and wiped his face with his overcoat cuff, paying no mind to the red droplets. This wasn't the first time, nor the last.
Slipping into the corridor, slamming the door behind himself and clicking the lock shut, he finally gave himself a chance to breathe out, putting his forehead against the wood and cradling his damaged arm. The darkness was impenetrable, while the Guardsman kept the back door unblocked as an escape option, the windows and the doors were barricaded so well that not a single drop of moonlight seeped through.
The wave of relief crashed against the feeling of a cold metal ring of a smoothbore touching the back of Subaru's head, "You better start praying now, you mutinous-"
"It's me." Subaru couldn't recognise his own voice. For all his nerves, there was a nervous rasp to his tone. Or maybe this wasn't anxiety… but something different. Anticipation? 'Absurd, why would I be happy to see all this chaos?'
"President Sir!" The gun lowered with a click, "What is going on outside, sir? These units showed up demanding that you come out. Of course, I told them that you are not at their disposal, that it is late and that they should depart and then-"
Subaru turned around to look at the soldier, squinting his eyes. "We have to get out of the city, right now. Then get our bearings."
"Get out of the city? But we must contact headquarters! Besides, wouldn't that be more dangerous-" The soldier's expression hardened, something noticeable even in the darkness of the corridor.
Subaru had to keep his cards close to his chest, in the end, he didn't know how loyal the soldier would be to him if his officer defected to some side or other, "There's disorder in the streets, possibly an interfactional scuffle but the army is occupied, we have to get out." Mentioning that some of those factions were fighting with army weapons and were themselves possible defectors? That was for another time. For now, it could be considered a limited mutiny.
The soldier hesitated but then nodded, "As the peak authority, I defer all orders to you, President, sir. What is the plan?"
"I saw a carriage with some ground dragons down at the corner. Grab it. I have to get the Guest. I'll meet you by the same corner. Don't get spotted. And for Od's sake, take off these colourful garbs, it'll be a dead giveaway." Subaru grabbed the tricorn off the soldier's head and tossed it in the corner, the young man's brown hair emerging from underneath.
"I can take her with me." The soldier nodded at the second floor as he began pulling off his jacket, leaving him in the white Guard shirt and black pants.
"Just focus on nabbing the carriage, you'll have your hands full with it without an unconscious body with you." Subaru chuckled, and nodded to the door, "Go on. I cleared it."
As the soldier disappeared through the back door, Subaru quickly locked the door behind him, but decided against barricading it. He also had to get out after all. Stumbling up the stairs, he would turn into his room.
The scene had barely changed from when he left, yet it felt like the slow crawl of bureaucracy had been a decade ago, somewhere far away from the gunfire and violence, from burning buildings and back alley close-quarter combat.
Pulling the drawers out and sweeping the papers off the table, Subaru stopped as his hand met one of his manuscripts. One of the first drafts of the Subarean Code, the more radical version, the one that went unpublished, neutered for the general public. Maybe he could have avoided these half-measures and brought down every institution; maybe in some world, this version was the one that reached the people; maybe if there were no mutiny, he would consider working on it more and publishing it in its proper form. Subaru sighed and swept it down onto the floor, kicking the papers into a small pile before pulling his crimson jacket off and adding it to the mound. Then, grabbing one of the light crystals on his table and slamming it on the desk corner, the green-blueish sparks poured out of the cracks, igniting the sheets with a partly magical flame.
Maybe there was a world, maybe he could have done something, and maybe there was still hope. But he would not bet on it. "I demolish my bridges behind me… Again…" The papers crackled as the flame spread lazily to the boards beneath it, and Subaru shut and bolted the door. Crossing across the corridor, he entered Capella's room.
It was also as if nothing had changed, except Subaru's discerning eye could catch the dark lines on the comatose woman's throat when he had choked her in his madness. Sighing and cursing himself, he considered how he would carry her. With his arm in the sling, princess-carry or a piggyback would probably be disastrous.
"Eugh." No matter how he rationalised it, even touching Capella felt repulsive. Her very nature feeling wrong to him, but nonetheless, that is what his life was attached to. So, as much as he hated it, he used his functioning hand to lift her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Taking a cautious step back into the second-floor hallway, he stumbled into a soldier with a blue piece of paper standing at the bottom of the stairway, the two gaping at each other for a split second.
The soldier shook the surprise off quicker, turning his head to call on his comrades. "He's here!" Raising his gun, the mutineer began to run up the stairs, probably intending to knock Subaru down to restrain him.
'Oh no, you don't!' Subaru tried to reach for his musket, but his hand in the sling was still too weak and painful to be of any use, and his healthy one was still holding Capella. Giving up his momentary struggle for a firearm, Subaru would kick the soldier charging up the stairs in the face, the mutineer stumbling and falling backwards. The benefit of being too valuable to shoot was becoming quite clear.
Retreating into Capella's room, Subaru grabbed a chair and placed it under the door handle. A dozen seconds of a headstart, maybe less. Taking his bearings, Subaru looked at the window. The wood frame was weak enough, though the tumble could end badly with the icy street below.
'No other choice, I suppose.' Taking a step back, Subaru smashed his heel against the frame, the frigid air blowing in his face as the shards disappeared into the dark, Capella on his shoulder shivering unconsciously.
He didn't hear the door behind him break down as he jumped down, the wind whistling in his ears as the soldiers spilt into the room, escaping the flames that spread from under the door of the opposite room. His heels met the dark ice sheets covering the street, Subaru sliding for half a meter before his center of gravity moved beyond him, dropping onto his side and barely having the time to protect Capella's head from any undue impact with the frozen cobbles.
Picking himself and Capella up, he looked over his presidential apartment, the smoke and flames spilling through the windows as his office's window burst with a loud crash, carrying away the ashes of his speeches, proclamation and carmagnole jacket. Subaru lifted himself to one knee, watching it burn away. "Goodbye, res publica. Someday, your fleeting steps shall bless these streets again."
Subaru's poetic moment was lost in the rumble of the carriage wheels as the Guardsman whipped the two ground dragons. "Get on! I don't think the apartments'll hold them for long!"
The carriage was nothing fancy, more a wagon for carrying goods than anything worthwhile for a passenger. Shaking off his prissiness, Subaru carefully lifted Capella off his shoulder and put her on top of some of the empty potato bags, before climbing on himself. "Get going!"
"Which way!?" The Guardsman already whipped the ground dragons, the wagon rumbling down the cobbles, past more and more firefights and skirmishes, the participants too busy to take note.
"Closest gate out is the Southern one! Head out of the city and towards Cramlin, we'll find some shelter in the hills!" Subaru shouted over the wind blowing into his face. "Just make sure to- GAH!"
The yellow light of the seal on his hand crackled through the scars on his palm. "Capella..?" Turning back to the woman on the potato sacks, he could make out a groan. "Capella!?"
She wasn't awake, not yet, but she was stirring, the cold causing her to shiver relentlessly. Touching his hand to her forehead, Subaru swore under his breath. Fever. Moving an injured, comatose person in such weather and through such means, of course, she would get worse. Pulling off the overcoat and wrapping her in it, Subaru was now left in only his undershirt against the elements. 'I've had it worse before…'
"Just keep on, stop when the city is out of sight." Subaru only now began to notice the adrenaline begin to run its course. A wave of exhaustion washed over him as he slipped down onto the floor, covering himself with one of the potato sacks for warmth. "Just… get out of the city. Whatever it takes…"
"Aye sir, President Si-!" The soldier cut himself off, clearly having forgotten about the ongoing mutiny.
"Right, I'll try to sleep it off for now… You think anything's wrong, cough. I have a good ear for sudden noise…" Subaru could barely keep his eyes open, his voice losing strength. Nursing his injuries and the dull pulsating ache of the seal on his palm, Subaru tried to get comfortable, seizing resistance against the weight of his eyelids and pushing himself into the corner of the carriage floor for whatever possible heat he could salvage.
The rumble of the carriage and the sound of distant gunfire soon washed away…
No, it couldn't be. She couldn't be…
His knees gave out as the militia around him parted, terrified and confused shouts ripping through them.
"What's at the gate!?"
"What's with the President?"
"We got the guns, right!? The March is over!?"
"Back off! Secure the area! I said BACK OFF! FOLLOW YOUR FUCKING ORDERS! THE PRESIDENT AN' I NEED A TALK!" Chin barked as he dragged Subaru away, his hands under his armpits.
"Chin… Chin, she's…"
"Don't look at her, at it." Chin grabbed him by the temples, putting his forehead against Subaru's, "Just don't. Keep your head in the game. Forget it, we need work done."
"Right… Right…" Subaru couldn't breathe, the world was swirling around him, "Forget… I'll forget… I'll just forget…"
"We're jus' out of this Od-thrice-damned Rose March. All of 'em need a leader, you fall and they'll be LOST. Got it? We can't be goin' soft, goin' all human on 'em." Chin tried to be calming but the caked blood on his face didn't help, Subaru's chest continued to tighten. She was at the gate, what was left of-
"SUBARU! DON'T! LOOK! AT! IT!"
Subaru gasped as he sat up, pulled out of the memory… No, a nightmare. A nightmare, it couldn't have been anything else. Seeing the glint of the gas mask in his periphery, Subaru shook his head, banishing the apparition.
The wagon had stopped, and through the holes in its canvas roof, he could see the early lights of dawn rising from behind the snow-covered hills of what was probably the Cramlin outskirts. Raising a hand to wipe his face and eyes, he hissed from pain. The tips of his fingers had become swollen and red from frostbite and as the grogginess of sleep receded, the aches in his body advanced. The injuries had not gone anywhere.
'First order of business, getting to the nearest town and figuring out if the mutiny reached them yet. If it did, we would have to find shelter or use fake names to warm up and lick our wounds. If not, we will coast on my name and use anything they have. Then, information. As much as possible. What faction's for who, whom I can join, whom I should avoid. Every little bit counts. And also-'
Raising his eyes, Subaru only just realised the suspicious quiet around him. His overcoat was unwrapped and empty… "Capella!" Trying to burst to his feet, Subaru howled from the agony of putting pressure on his frostbitten toes. Regaining his footing and gritting his teeth, he would lurch to the opening in the front of the wagon, in the direction of where the ground dragons would be connected to the carriage.
"Ca-!" A strange scene unfolded before him. The ground dragons stood in silent obedience, but their driver, the Guardsman bodyguard was up against a nearby tree, his hands raised in surrender as Capella held a crude blade up against his throat, the only thing on her being the long Victorian-like nightgown that she had been wearing when Subaru dragged her comatose body out of bed. Her feet and hands, just like Subaru's, were red and slightly swollen. Her face also contained a red hint of fever.
Noticing Subaru's intrusion, Capella let out a scream as if trying to intimidate him, grabbing the Guardsman and taking cover behind him, keeping the blade around her meat shield's neck. "Drop your weapons!"
"I don't have any weapons." Slowly raising his hands, Subaru tried to take a step forward, but Capella maintained the distance.
"I demand answers! Who are you, dirty commoners, and who ordered you to kidnap me!?" Capella roared from behind the Guardsman's back.
"Kidnap you?" Subaru tried to maintain calm. Capella was acting absurdly. Of course, no more absurd than she usually did, but this was something new, "I assure you, we are not kidnappers."
"You dare lie to a royal! SCUM! DIRTY SHIT-EATING PIG-FUCKING SCUM! It is on my honour as the Royal Princess Capella Emerada Lugnica that I swear that I shall see you hanged in front of the Palace! I shall… I shall…" Capella's eyes rolled back as she lost balance, dropping into the snow.