A Tale of Two Empires

Nogori

Nogori

TNP’s Greedy Capitalist
This is kinda my own attempt for a series of short stories that take place in the Malorian Empire and the Shogunate of Takashima. I have to thank Sil for the inspiration for this thread as I got the idea from Silien Short Stories.
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The fire crackled and hissed as Marten the Elder filled Elli’s crystal glass cup back up with his vintage wine. Soft piano music accompanied the sibilating flame throughout the room bouncing from wall to wall. The wooden floors occasionally creaked with it.

The walls were covered pearl white paint with golden trimmings alongside it. Paintings and busts were present as well dotting them formerly showing Malorian war generals and battles which was now replaced with tales of Norsian greatness and patriotism however the former Queen did leave up the mounted heads of Marten’’s kills, the massive head of the Malorian Mountain Lion being most prevalent among them, hanging above the fire place. Large windows with iron grills allowed the sunlight from the sunset to enter into the room making way for them to show off the vast countryside in the distance.

He put down the wine bottle back on the rosewood dinner table and resumed cutting back into his venison which was medium-rare. Elli followed suit with a certain awkwardness hanging over the room as neither one of them spoke but the piano music filled the void that was left. As he cut into it Marten finally struck up conversation.

“”I hope you’re finding my hunting lodge to your satisfaction,”” he said taking a bite of his food right after.

““It is very lovely. Thank you for letting me live here instead of a prison cell like they would prefer me back home.””

““No the pleasure is all mine after all you are the guest here not me.”” Marten kept his smile and remained very open and outgoing as they chatted about a wide variety of different subjects which eventually landed to her own daughter’’s coup against her.

“”I hope to one day return home and not as a criminal and traitor like I’’ve been branded out to be. I ruled that land and I’ll be damned if they’’re going to keep me out of it.””

The aggressiveness of her tone didn’t phase Marten, he still kept his composure, remaining calm and collected while she took another large gulp of her wine which was at this point almost gone again.

““Is it worth fighting for”” he said with his smile now gone and his face emotionless like it was famous for.

““Excuse me?””

““Is it worth fighting for”,” he paused for a minute before continuing. “”I’’m sure as you know it is my job as the Director of the Secret Service to know what happens in my nation. So I have to ask you is it worth it?””

Elli didn’t know what to say as he got out of his seat and walked over to the window looking out at the vast countryside and the sunset with it. ““You really are stupid aren’t you?You don’t think I wouldn’t have caught you trying to gain corporate allies to retake your throne?”” The soft piano music continued to play throughout the lodge.

“”Sadly I’’m afraid to tell you that you aren’’t a necessity we need and you have overstayed your visit here.””

Elli then started coughing and coughing and coughing, with it getting worse each time. Blood started to trickle out of her nose and she coughed it out into the table grabbing at her throat. Marten kept his calm and indulged in the piano music.

He walked over to her chair and kicked it out beneath her feet as at this point she was choking on her own blood. He stood over and looked at her and he felt nothing. No hate or sympathy just a pit of nothing.

She grabbed at her throat a couple more times but the life eventually left her body. Marten whistled the tune of the piano music as he found some gasoline and poured it all over the lodge which was a pity because this was one of his favorite hunting houses. He pulled out a match and lit and threw it in the doorway and walked out into the yard and watched it burn.
 
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Marten stood over the vast line of men in his throne room from the bottom of the steps of his luxurious seat of power. He waited and looked over the line, at least over one thousand men were present today in the palace and each one were going to be knighted and appointed to the Chamber of Edelen, the Malorian Upper House reserved for the nobility and those appointed by the Keizer. The Chamber had been dominated by the NRV from the reign of his great grandfather Alexander as he had appointed a majority of them to the body but now that majority was biting Marten in the ass. The United Fatherland Party who had been swept into a super majority in the lower house faced great difficulty in passing the items on their agenda due to the opposed upper house but now it was finally coming to an end.


These men presented before the Malorian Keizer were men of great esteem and honor who had proven themselves to the people of the Empire time and time again but they also were the strongest loyalist supporters of the Severyn Family and of the UFP. The age of opposition has come to an end and in its stead the age of prosperity will rise. The new regime will finally stand unopposed and the ability before them to usher in their policies will be utilized to the best that they can be.


Marten walked down the steps until he was at a reasonable distance from the first man. The Keizer was wearing his ebon colored suit and and a tie of the same color adorned with many military metals on the left dangling and shaking each time he moved. To his left was a member of the Orthodox Church wearing traditional church garbs holding a purple pillow with the necklace that a member of the Chamber of Edelen receives made out of silver small hands along with a golden ring having ruby lions in a pattern encrusted into it and the Keizer’s sword. Marten turned to his left and picked up the elegant and thin bladed sword before assuming his original position.


“Mykhajlo Menkhorst” Marten cried about before the line. “Please step forward before your Emperor” and as such with a large smile on his face he obeyed and did as he was asked. “Take a knee” Marten said smiling likewise at the man as Menkhorst did so again.


It wasn’t easy for him as he was a 90 year old man but the trial was worth the cost in order to serve his Empire more. “Before your Keizer and before your God do you swear your eternal allegiance to the Malorian Empire?”


“I do” with his response Marten placed the blade on his left shoulder.


“Do you swear to uphold the will and the traditions of the Orthodox Church?”


“I do” he placed the blade on his right.


“Do you swear to serve your Emperor undyingly and without question at his command?”


“I do” he placed the placed the blade on his head.


“I dub thee a knight of the Malorian Empire. Rise Sir Mykhajlo Menkhorst of Bergum.” Mykhajlo rose up from his knee and was patted on the shoulder by Marten. Marten though placed his blade back on the pillow and grabbed the necklace and the ring


“For your services to the Empire and to your Emperor, I Keizer Marten the Third of my name appoint you to the Chamber of Edelen.” With that said he placed the necklace over his neck and put the ring on his finger and Mykhajlo turned to his right and walked back down the throne room. One down over a thousand to go.
 
An old man laid in his bed, his health having deteriorated and given up on him for quite a while. He was there alone, by himself. His wife had passed sometime before and his children sat outside waiting for him to pass. The machines there which had previously been used to subsidize his increasingly bad health had been shut off at his behest. He knew, his children knew, and his doctors knew that he was not going to survive to the morning. Now was the hour of his passing and all anyone could do was wait.

Staring at the ceiling he contemplated what would happen when he finally passed from this world. He was raised as a devout member of the Orthodox Church but he, like many, you still wonder if maybe you were taught wrong? What if there is nothing once the moment his heart stops beating and his brain loses function? What happens to your soul, if it even exists, when your body becomes lifeless?

He couldn’t waste the energy to move the rest of his body so he laid there on his back in his lavish archaic bed. The room was silent except for loud audible gasps for air from his nose and mouth for his body to continue fighting to win a battle it knew it was gonna lose. He’d lived a long life; he was ready to let go when all of a sudden a gust of wind blew onto his skin. Odd, the windows had been shut, he was sure of this.

Footsteps approached him, starting slowly from the window coming closer to the side of his bed and all he could was lay there. Closer and closer, the steps grew louder as they finally stopped beside him. He couldn’t move his head but his eyes darted over. A hooded figure in black robes watched him. Perhaps the Angel of Death was finally here to collect his souls for the sins he had committed or maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. That was until the hooded figure pulled down their hood.

“Is God playing tricks on me,” he said in an old, tired, and grainy voice with a great many pauses in-between words. “Or has my mind deceived me? Why can’t the dead stay dead? Why do you have to be here after all this time?”

The previously hooded figure took his hand and placed it on the old man’s hand so he could feel his body. His touch was cold and soft but familiar. “No, I’m here, in the flesh and blood…my little boy. You’re not so little or young anymore” he said with a smile. The old man was too tired to laugh though. Normally the dead being resurrected was a momentous occasion that would require a great deal of research and might even turn the most adamant nonbeliever into a devout worshipper but he thought nothing of it. His time was done, he was too sleepy to worry about anything like this even more.

Silence was between them for a few minutes as the reality set in. So much emotion and nothing either one of them could do about it now. It was rather unfortunate. The hooded man continued to hold his hand as they waited together. Then finally the old man decided to speak again.

“Are you proud of me? I tried so hard to be like you. I’m scared I wasn’t good enough. You’re so good and I was nothing like you. I’m sorry.”

The hooded man replied with another smile and a tear rolling down the side of his face. “I’ve always been proud of you Martin. My little boy, you were better than I could have ever hoped to be. I might not have been here for you to know but my love for you never went anywhere. You’ve done so well.” Silence remained between them, Alexander keeping a hold of his hand still.

Martin looked him in the eyes, “Thank you.”

Alexander stayed there for a while longer not saying anything, wanting to savor the time he spent with his grandson, the last one left who truly remembered the man as he was. Not as an emperor but as a lowly grandfather who raised his grandson.

He pulled out a small vile from the pocket of his cloak. It contained a purple liquid that illuminated his hand from its bright light. He popped the wooden top off of it. “Open” he said to Martin and Martin with what little strength he had left opened his mouth and Alexander poured the substance inside. It was sweet, sweeter than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Moments went by before it kicked in.

Martin didn’t ask any questions, he trusted his grandfather. He stared back as the ceiling, feeling the touch of Alexander’s hand on his own. He took one deep breath as he closed his eyes.

Space and time had faded out around him. The darkness from his closed eyes gave away to light at the end of a tunnel and he was going towards him. Faster and faster he went until he eventually reached the white field. There was nothing around him except for endless fields of white and then once more he felt something on his hand and he looked over and it was Grace.

She looked the same as when he had first met her when they were young. Her hand wrapped around his and they looked one another in the eyes.

“Are you going to show me the way?” he asked. She responded with a slight nod and led him deeper into the white void.

Alexander stood there watching Martin with his eyes closed and his heavy labored breathing. Tears started rolling down Martin’s face before his breathing stopped. Alexander held onto hand for a little while longer. “Goodbye, my boy,” and gave him one last kiss on the forehead before leaving the way he had came in.
 
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