Caster had always misliked Three's streets. They were the kind of streets that never made him comfortable, the kind of streets that always felt as if something was lurking around a corner. Some issue, some danger, some problem just waiting. And, even if this part of town was a lot quieter, a lot safer than the rest? Even if Cotor, as a whole but especially Fair Isle, was a lot nicer than where he'd grown up in Tulles?
He still didn't like it. There was an eerie silence in the air, the kind of silence that hung over everything like a wet blanket and kept any sound, any noise, any event in general from actually happening. The streetlights were on, his taxes paid for them after all along with the taxes of everyone else on the isle, and they were even brighter than they could be were there bigger issues. The light was still almost greasy, though, slipping through the air. The smells of home weren't there, thankfully, but they were still in his memory. Truth be told, it felt almost strange for them not to be there – like the city was some fake home he just hadn't realized yet.
Going into the streets saw him walking, following the white lights towards the shops. After all, in this part of town they were open, and even if these streets weren't full it was near guaranteed that some would be. In most of Three, stuff's all dark and quiet, but out in Fair Isle? On the shore, the stopover on cruises along the Inner Sea? Well, it's a long party in some areas, in others the party is just tolerated on rows of townhouses and the few palatial manses that dot the north of the island.
And, as if called by thoughts, rounding the corner sees him drawn into a world of shimmering light and hordes of Capitolites. Longer necks, dresses in every strange shape, they're all too odd, and it's there that he finds it necessary to pull up his hood. Walk through the streets a ghost, rather than Caster Deck. Rather than Three's Victor, the one who stabbed three crying children who just wanted to go home because he wanted to go home just as much. He may be an old man, but even now seeing his face seems to excite far too many people.
And that anonymity is nice. It means he can nod back at the various people who smile at him, and make them think that he's just some resident out for a nice stroll. It means he can push through the crowds, and even though there may be the occasional affronted yelp, he's able to do it with a mostly clear conscience. After all, half of them are drunk, the other half are on something stronger, and they're all Capitol. They don't need to be further babied, they've already been babied and that's made them. Well. This.
He can spare a tad more sympathy for the blonde boys and girls who flit through the crowds. Smiling, always smiling, dressed in various uniforms and trying to coax the slew of inebriated travellers into their establishments to mixed success. The lights are shimmering, inviting, but without boots on the ground it's unlikely the buildings would get half the foot traffic they usually do.
"Come in!" "Come on!" "Please!" The voices have various tones, but all push the same message – come in. Come on. Welcome. A million different ways to try and lure people in, and it's the same thing they do every night. He can feel bad, just for a second, and then remember that they're One. That they're from the favoured District, that they're making more tonight tan a Three would with triple the hours.
Still, it draws a tinge of sympathy when he can hear a firm no, see one of the uniformed figures struggling with a reveller. Enough sympathy that he intervenes, walks over and places a hand on the Capitolite's shoulder.
"Stop that, please. It's a nice night, he's a busy lad, why don't you just move on. You can hire people if that's your fancy, but that's specific. He has a job to do. Hey, hey."
He shouldn't be as good at it as he is. Wishes he was worse at it, but after years of coaxing Ma and Pa out of the bars until he grew old enough to realize that they didn't have his best interests at heart, that they didn't care for him? Well, he lets a little of that same convincing tone come through, and before long he's managed to detach the figures, recognize the smiling Capitolite with dilated pupils as one of the sponsors he's spoken to in the past, and head off into the night, good deed done for the day.
Past that crowd, the streets are quieter. There's still tourists, of course, but they're being chaperoned in groups by their own Ones. Big-eyed children, hassled parents, getting told stories about Three that may be true but don't deserve to be perverted and commercialized in quite the same way as they're being. "Did you know, that here on this very street, it's said that a battle took place. It was during the Dark Days, when a brave squad of Peacekeepers engaged rebels trying to attack the locals. Thankfully, they managed to drive the rebels off, and brought relief to this part of the city. If you look closely, you can even see the bullet holes!"
There are bullet holes, drilled into the walls and rooves of buildings, and the girl is at the least able to point those out. Still, it drives a certain anger into him. That the rebels are treated as they are, that the girl seems to be telling the Capitol's story. Sure, she may not be the kind of person to be able to refuse what the Capitol wants, but she's still District. No District citizen, no self-respecting District citizen at the least, should be allowing themselves to be treated like this, but there's that tone of genuine enjoyment. Excitement.
It's another ten minutes before he's reached the house he's meeting at tonight, another five after that before he's buzzed in by a local maid. Then it's a short walk up to the library, a knock on the door, and he can go in to a moonlit room.
"Hello."
Greetings are exchanged, before he takes a seat. Exclusive of himself there's half a dozen people arranged around the rectangular table, half a dozen names anyone would recognize. Industrialists, one and all, the kind of people who smile and drink with Capitol businessmen as they discuss outsourcing labour to Three. After all, Two's getting expensive now.
But the table isn't quite the usual mahogany. Instead, it's made of a grey metal for the most part, a nice map of Three that comes to life as you run your fingers across it, each bump and groove reflected in the District's geography. How Alesander got it made he'll never know, but it's not exactly his need to ask questions.
"Caster! Just the man we were waiting for!" Charlotte leans across the table, smiling. Her blonde hair falls down across it as a waterfall. "Are you sure Latier won't be joining us? Esterhazy, even? We need to do this now, or else-"
"Or else the whole thing goes to hell. I know. But they're not coming, say they don't want to. Now, what have we got. You told me you wanted me here for something important, what is that something?"
Pod leans over, tapping his finger on the table. "We're go for the Seventy-Fifth, then? No setbacks, no-"
"No." Charlotte's voice is firm, if still lighter than he would have liked. "We're still the Seventy-Fifth. Furrier says that we'll be fine, just need to wait until One's go and we get the go ahead from Torni. Can't go early."
A smile, a relieved smile, and Rahm can speak, hand tracing across the table. "Furrier, Furrier, Furrier. The Ones are claiming a lot, what if they don't come out on top. We're the District's men and women, not Panem's men and women. We can't go, we need to start with the rest. I know they want to wait until the Capitol's marched east and we can raise cleanly, but we need to start with the rest."
"And what, pray tell, have we got that could accomplish that." Their host, Alesander leaning in with a frown. "I know what you want, but Three can't fight alone."
"We did during the Dark Days. One may have bitten down on us harder than you would have liked, but Three held her own. That's more than some can say. If we raise our banners, march and declare Three to be free, what can they do? Do you really think the peacocks will be willing to stamp us out, as opposed to gaining an independent ally. Three can take the stranglehold of Panem. Demand higher prices for our technology, not take the worthless crap One sends over and claims is entirely fair."
Rahm's voice is louder than intended, prompts a shush from Mack that seems to be the first time the younger man has made any move during the meeting. He quiets, and Alica can interject. "I'm with Rahm. We raise our banners, more of Three will rally behind us. I know Bine has his own plans across the bay, the peacocks may be the strongest but if it comes to blows? They'll let us go. Hell, we can demand more, they'll probably concede."
"And risk bringing their sword down upon us? They have four times the men, ten times the financial power. What are we going to do when the Capitol's fallen? What do we do if the Capitol wins? Snow won't look kindly." Mack's advocating restraint, and now he's animated, voice live as a wire and twice as dangerous. "Do you really think that One won't pay back dissent in kind. We know what she wants, to be the queenmaker. Coin and her ilk may say they're in charge, but here? We're a continent away, and it won't be Coin's boots on the ground."
The meeting's descending into chaos, it's to Caster to call some order. "We need to handle this like adults. Evaluate the situation when the time comes, rather than making some impulse call that leaves us all in a spot of bother later. I say we wait. Let Natoma and the Capitol rip each other's throats out, if we want to cause issue then we can march when the time is good. Beetee, Wiress, they won't counsel it, but they'll be mentoring in the Capitol."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure. We've looked at the chances, right now? Sartorian thinks it'll be something to do with the Sponsors, he wrote the slips and boxed them, he knows."
"And how can we trust Sartorian?" Mack glares, seemingly out for a fight out of nowhere. "He's Capitol. He's been one of the ones with a boot on our necks. Why isn't he with Heavensbee, Furrier, Coin, Rivers? Why's he marching to our drum. What's in it for him."
The tone is low. "He's new." He is, Adelius Sartorian has only been informing them for a few months. "Furrier didn't trust him, he was the one who introduced her to her duties. She wouldn't touch him with a steel pole, so that's that deal done. Heavensbee usurped him, his own pride won't let him side with that, and Coin's not exactly been doing much of her own stuff. Rivers… I don't know. But if Rivers was sniffing around him, I'd be all the happier. We need that firepower. Us and Rivers could do some real damage."
Charlotte raises one dainty hand, is called upon with a clap of Alesander's hands. "Yes, Charlotte?"
"Have you considered that Coin herself might be a load of lies. I know that the Ones count Thirteen as real enough, I know that Two does as well. Trust me, I met Fairway on that Two boy's Victory Tour and she was ok enough to tell me she was batting for the right side. And if that's not a clue, then I don't know what the hell is. But what if it's bullshit. What word do we have, Heavensbee and receivers out in Eight who forward all their intel to us or so they say? Paylor and Bakken are too independently minded for my liking, and not in my way. Wouldn't put it past them to incite us to war and only afterwards pull out that their special attack dog was a lie all along. Thirteen surviving, with nuclear weapons, with that kind of power? Well, it'd be great if it were true, but when I was younger I thought much the same about having a giant wolf I could ride. Didn't make that wolf real."
Laughter rings around the table, and in an instant they're on the same page for second. "I don't know if Coin's real." Pod's the one who'd brought the rumours in in the first place, so his words on this carry enough weight that he's deferred to. "But if she is, if she can bring Thirteen's guns to bear? If Nine's right about the riverlords being willing to defect, if One can bring their power out of Seaguard and Natoma, if Two can finally break the Capitol's eastern shield? We have a chance, and I'd prefer not to spend any longer on the Capitol's lap than I have to."
"And if we're wrong?" Alica ventures the question, eyes flinty. "If One doesn't swing and this has been a trap, if Nine's trapped among himself and Six, Eleven, Eight can't bring their power west? Hell, maybe we're the only real rebels among this and everyone else is being fed a line of bullshit. We need a plan."
"We need a plan." Rahm nods. "And we have one. Declare independence when One's sweeping up in the deserts of Five. We can be free. We can choose whether or not to aid. Offer concessions, support for the war in exchange for the Free State of Three. Break Panem up, and we'll have a far easier time of it. Tacker's granddaughter is out on our island at the moment, out of the way of the protests. The Capitol doesn't want her becoming a figurehead, we can make her our figurehead. With her behind us, we have Three rising."
"Tacker's been dead twenty years. His granddaughter's a little girl, a little girl the Capitol is so proud to show us is becoming a good citizen under the stewardship of the Ranja's. If you're so certain we can rally Three behind her, then we can probably rally Three just as well behind her. A dead rebel isn't a formation for a system of governance. We can talk with the rest once we're all free, we can't push some queen in the south now and divide the Rebellion." Alesander's voice is low, cool. "I'm putting my neck on the line hosting this, and I say no."
"And I say yes." Charlotte smiles, leans in. "I think a queen could be a damn good thing. A single ruler to make the hard calls, a group elected by the people below her to take power. The granddaughter would need someone until she was old enough, but it would provide a figurehead, an ideal. A lot better than Three being a lonely cog in a big machine, we could be our own machine."
"A queen. And what happens when the queen goes bad. They all wanted Snow as a ruler, Caster even was for it. Now he's bad. My father thought he was good, but who was the first one on the noose when it came down to it. I say we ask the only person with direct experience." After being ignored long enough, Caster turns a light shade of red as people turn to him with big eyes. A lot of thirty-something year old idealists, looking at their older leader. "Caster? What do you think?"
"I think." He's hesitant, needs to choose words delicately. "I think that maybe we could try it." A clap from Charlotte and Rahm, after a moment another from Alica. "But after the war is over. Freedom first. Trust me, I'm a Victor. I know this country more than anyone. If we go off now, the others won't like it. And what the Victors won't like, neither will the Capitol. I'm sure we can get some concessions, but not now. Not like this. I don't want to cause issues and divide our freedom. If the Capitol comes after we declare a queen, we'll all be shot or worse. Remember what happened to Tacker."
A shudder at the thought of the rebel who'd burnt the Justice Building down before being caught, a shudder at the memory of his being burnt among the ashes of the building. An eye for an eye, Snow's speech had said, and the action alone was enough to see Three cowed for another twenty years. "Don't think that would be the best." Alesander's tone is light, passes with it the grim certainty of someone who knows what he's talking about.
"Well then. We need a plan. A proper plan. What is that?"
"We march with the rest. When One declares, we follow suit. If all goes as they expect, the hardcore whities will be forced east to fight the rebellion, when the war launches we may have a few platoons of Twos still here but the vast majority should be loyal blondes. Us loyal, not Capitol loyal." Alica's speaking, this is her area. "We have a few Three locals in the force, enough that if we're loyal they'll be brought back. We can get them on side, have to get them on side. And then it's just a question of how well they do their jobs. All goes to plan, we can have Three free quickly, and then."
"And then we raise the banners. Declare Three as free. Hope that another group hasn't gotten there. There has to be other groups, too man people with rebel tendencies who we have no tabs on. I know the Ullers have something going on, some shenanigans, probably the Ranja's as well. If they march before us, take control, we'll be a laughing stock. We can't let that happen." Alesander's on politics. "Mayor defects, or we handle him and it's one of us. When we've raised the banners, we can get on comms with the rest. But we need One to go first, or else they'll have to crush us."
There's a set of nods cast around the table assuring at least some agreement, before they're forced to dive back into the fundamentals. "And when One's free. Do we know what their plans are? We can guess, but it's not like their power won't be enough to fight a weakened Capitol. March north for Seven? Drive directly? There has to be some plan we're privy to, else we'll be as blind as the rest."
There's a noted pause, waiting for intervention, before Pod steps in. "One's closed mouthed, but what we do know is. Well, they want their own District secured, and then they'll use that bottomless money pit to hire outsiders. Ours, Sevens, Fives, whoever they can get their grubby little hands on. Get those, get their own men in order, and from there I believe two distinct moves. Take on Five, clear that out, before sweeping on the Capitol from the south. Take Seven back if the Sevens can't do it themselves and that jut of Nine, before sweeping in from the north. Assuming Two breaks, we can be in Snow's manse before the Capitol loses her winter… Well, snow."
Another round of laughs, nods. "And if this all goes to shit?" Rahm's leaning in, glaring with his pale eyes. "If we fall, if Three breaks. If we get independence and sit this out, no matter how the war goes we can sit out the war and claim we were on the winning side. If we wander around like a stray dog, pledge allegiance to the Capitol and they break? If we sit with One as you want and they break? Then we're finished, we'll be as beaten down as damn Nine is at the moment. We get independence, sit neutral, and claim we were sitting out for whoever wins? We're safe."
"And what if the Capitol doesn't like it?" Mack fires back, hand pressing down on the table. Running over the model of Fair Isle, finger tracing out every groove. Every building, the few pin-sized skyscrapers peeking over a crowded, messy island city, a ridge on the east where gentle hills rise and fall into the sea. It's a lovely thing, one Caster's eyes and focus linger on a second too long so he only catches the second half of Mack's words.
"We can't expect to go to war, take our independence with the help of One and then sit this out. It wouldn't be right. It'll take thirteen Districts to beat the Capitol, not Twelve. If we want to win our independence, then we must spill blood, not quibble over the meaning of independence. When the war is over I am as willing as the next person to claim our rights and discuss, but we must first take the war and make it over. I say we join ourselves to One's southern power, Three marches to war against whatever the Capitol's scrounged up, and when we're won we take what we need at the negotiating table. Perhaps One could consent to land concessions or some kind of deal, or-"
"One concede when they've won? I doubt it. We need to take what is ours and convince them post-war that it won't be enough of a help to take us head on. If we can seize the hook and straighten out the border as it should be, well. What's a few resorts to the peacock? We can make Three nicer, they lose little. It's a win-win situation." Alica presses her argument, and so it continues for the next two hours. Finally, the squabblers give up, and Caster can place his hands on the table.
"I understand the thoughts. I want Three to be pure. Pristine. We can build a new District, and maybe that would be served by independence, maybe not. Maybe it would be served by breaking the Capitol upon One and ourselves, maybe it would be best to sit and wait. Either way, that's a discussion for another time. For now, I believe we're all in agreement that something needs to change in Three?" Nods around the table, each looking down at it, the shape.
"We're all in agreement that we need to wait for One to move, for the Capitol to be engaged before we make our move?" Another round of nods.
"Then why don't we wait. We meet again in two weeks, at… Charlotte's I believe?" She nods, straightening ever so slightly with a smile on her face.
"Then we can discuss it there, come to a final decision. After the Quarter Quell's announced, after we know what we're up against."
A chorus of 'aye', and he can take his leave. Stand, offer goodbyes and walk out the door, leaving the youth to their discussions.
Pod Acasta survived the war, and is believed to have emigrated towards one of the many Special Investment Zones set up by the Paylor regime in Panem, more specifically to the coastal city of Surgat in District Four. While his part in the Rebellion is unknown, he is known to have received pardons for any actions taken, and attempts to link him and his family to various acts of sabotage against Capitol systems known to have weakened hospital and power infrastructure have been reportedly prevented thanks to the intervention of the Panemois government.
Alica Lux died in the opening stages of the war on Three. With the Capitol aware of her rebellious tendencies, she was deemed a major threat, and in spite of the protestations of her parents was arrested and executed on the steps of the Justice Building. While her family lived on, her dreams of an independent Three would not follow the same, and Three was subsumed into the Panemois Union as an independent province in the aftermath of the war.
Mack Trembley is believed to have died in the initial storming of the Justice Building on Fair Isle, together with seventeen other citizens of District 3. While a body was not found, enough DNA evidence to place him conclusively at the scene was acquired, and as such he is remembered alongside the other Threes as one of the rebels who sacrificed their lives for the freedom of the District from Capitol rule.
Rahm Caraway died in District Five, attempting to besiege the former fortified town of Perelevie. Sitting athwart the Front Range and a strategic lynchpin in the Capitol's defence, the decision of Perelevie as utmost priority saw several hundred men, including Sergeant Caraway, pass away in a three week siege which ultimately saw the town surrender to District One forces after the fall of the mountain fortress in District Two. He's remembered in a statue cast in bronze in the mountains of Perelevie, a name inscribed upon the statue alongside countless others.
Alesander Lessig is still alive, and has taken an active part in the politics of the District in the aftermath of the war. Most prominently, he's bankrolled several candidates to the 49 member House of Representatives the District has, and has supported attempts to lower the minimum wage, secure greater rights for the industries of the District and generally advance his familial cause, albeit with some token service to local rights including supporting the establishment of a Provincial Health Service.
Charlotte Caulker is still alive in District Three despite the loss of her familial manse, and has taken an active part in reconstruction. While not directly involved in construction, her familial wealth has been used to fund rebuilding efforts in Tulles, the city more heavily ravaged by Capitol air raids until air defence systems could be brought in, and she's listed among the District's most popular figures. In recent years, she has taken more of an interest in Panemois federalism, and is expected to run against an incumbent for the Fifth District at the next Panemois elections.
Caster Deck was not present at the next meeting. Reports say he passed away of massive self-inflicted trauma to his wrists in the days after the announcement of the Quarter Quell. While not seen by many, both Beetee Latier and several of his domestic staff described the Victor as withdrawn and sullen in the aftermath of the announcement, likely due to the impact on him specifically. While discovered on January 17th, he is believed to have been dead at least two days prior, and lack of a note or other identifying information made it impossible to discern whether speculated reasons for his apparent suicide were correct.
His statue stands in silver alongside that of Beetee Latier and Wiress Esterhazy outside the District House.
Excerpt from Three's Rebel Dream: A story of Three's Rebellion, by Mercury Greenfield