To Cage a Vermilion Bird [INVITE ONLY]

[Pikabo]

帝國2220年8月2日
22:33
Sun's Day
Zhujing, South Iteria

Mark Geissen fondly recollects the time his mother yelled at him, "Don't become a journalist! You'll make enemies!"

Judging by the metal large ring clasped cold and heavy around his ankle, anchoring him with a thick long chain to the middle of the bedroom, she is right as the Vallish president... Or so he thinks. Right as in correct or right as in the direction of the political spectrum...?

Sometimes, he couldn't remember the last time he voted for an MP and sometimes he couldn't be sure about who is the current President of Valland. Sometimes, he believed that Valland had multiple heads of state and that Lawston had a cereal box for a flag. Maybe he's just bored?

Or maybe, just maybe...

I'm losing my mind.

It's boredom.

That's what he inclines himself to believe. It's no good wasting his time, plunging himself into random thoughts of endless nonsense. Clearly, it's proven itself to be nonsense and, potentially, harmful. He couldn't even remember Mark Hellstrand-

Wait...I just did.

...It's definitely boredom.

It's odd.

Isn't it odd?

Like, after three long weeks, is it odd he hasn't gone mad?

Is his 25-year-old mind supposed to survive much longer? Or is it his generation getting jelly?

It would make sense since a lot of young people worry over beta crap like calling someone the wrong gender pronoun. Thinking you can get in someone's pants only to find out they are ace or something else of a politically correct cockblock.

"Shut up..."

Mark was so invested in finding ways to express himself, that after three weeks of isolation, he is starting to talk out his thoughts that he doesn't even notice. He couldn't help himself but laugh at the slow realization of this new behavior.

Is it alarming...?

Yes.

Does he care enough to care about it...?

Absolutely not. Because the Queen of Prydania has plowed the fields of fertile Korovan beaches.

"Shut up!"

An unexpected hand wraps around his mouth to force quiet from him. Another hand wrapped around his chest and pulled him down on the bed. At the first instance, some nights worth three weeks ago, Mark naturally pushed and struggled.

Then, every evening after, the spooning was getting longer and longer and longer, until he had a wait-a-minute moment, "I'm not sore...?"

Apparently, spooning was the only thing Meng has done to him for the past three weeks.'

...How did I end up in this mess?

"Only three weeks have passed... Before I cut off your beautiful fingers, go to fucking sleep."

 

[Pikabo]

帝國2220年7月10日
19:02
Star Day 5
Zhujing, South Iteria

"Unskyldigen jeg?"

Mark felt heavy. His head seems to wobble around a bit. He tried to open his eyes.

"Hej? God Morgen?"

Who is...?

"God Kveld! Wake-wakey!"

The table shaking under his face jolted up and awake, feeling fatigued. His sight was blurry and head splitting.

Restarting his memory, though painful as it is, he has to remember. He started recalling going to Vermilion City with Åsmund. Some people from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism joined them and he got hit in the back of his head-

MARK! LOOK OUT!

"Åsmund! Åsmund!"

"Alright! He woke up!" The man in front of him, sitting across the long table, laughed as he cheered at Mark. He clapped to the burly Zhen man standing beside him, who looked uncharacteristically shaken.

"Very good. Lucky you, Zhang!" The man beamed at him with a cheerful tune, speaking in Ascalonian. He took a bite of the crab cake he picked up from the dishes in front of him, continuing as he chewed. "Now, be careful next time. You know me. I don't want to screw up and, of course, I don't want to screw you up. You are my favorite, you know! ...Do I need to remind you? If you do it well? If I had to send Mark back to my bedroom, I would already have your pregnant wife..."

The man looked at Mark, his gaze half-lidded. He dropped his half-eaten crab cake and licked the fingers he used to hold it, still looking at Mark.

"Sorry, Zhang... I'm sorry, Mark... Where are my manners? I shouldn't be... inappropriate? No? Dinner, or any other meals for this matter, cannot be foul. I mean, if we don’t do as expected, why do we have a society? Correct? Mark, don't you agree? ...You know, if I didn't know who they were sending, I will never agree to an interview with Den Rektstrieks. Well, I am the one who asked for you specifically. You made the whole thing possible."

Mark looked at the man-

No.

Mark looked at Meng, and he damn made sure it was a glare. Emperor Kaihuang, as he proclaimed himself, is the tyrant ruling over the poor souls of Zhen, slaving away at his every whim as he destroys their lives, their heritage, and their identity. Mark came here to expose Meng to the world on what kind of man he is. IF he is still a man.

"Hvor er Åsmund?"

Meng smirked. He still understands Gojan.

Meng snapped his fingers at the man he called Zhang. The burly man walked to the door behind him.

Looking at the red lacquer door with intricate golden designs on them, the door Zhang opened, tells Mark that this was no ordinary dining room. Looking at their surroundings, they were not even indoors.

They are in a large Zhen veranda, facing a spacious garden amply lit up by small stone lamp houses. It is interspersed with various hill stones and miniscapes. The trees are old, winding and crooked, yet flourishing in its greenery. Taller than the red and yellow wooden structure that surrounds this garden. They are all connected by small bridges and pathways that run throughout the garden. In the darkness of the night, the garden looked larger and resembles its own little world.

This must be Vermilion City.

Mark heard a door creaking. Zhang returns with a cardboard box, which doesn't belong in this sophisticated and very traditional environment. It was stained and, as it came closer to Mark, he could smell something that reminds him of fresh meat, and he's certain it isn't exactly that. Judging by the bits of ice on it, it looked like it was just taken out from a freezer.

"...What is this?" Mark said in Ascalonian.

Meng waved at Zhang, gesturing at the door. Zhang bowed and ran to the door, closing it behind him as he left.

Mark is now alone with Meng.

Meng stood up and, with an air of malevolence, sauntered his way towards Mark, smirking wider than before. Mark gripped at the seat of his chair as he watched Meng approach him.

Meng disappeared behind him and Mark refused to look, keeping his eyes in front, focusing on the box Zhang left on top of his empty plate.

No.

Mark gulped. Something, as the smell grew stronger, tells Mark of a dreadful thought that he doesn't want to believe. Even for a second.

No.

Mark could feel Meng, his breath against his neck, and felt it move towards his ear.

"Open it." Meng whispered in Gojan as he grabbed Mark on his shoulders, holding him down firmly on the chair, and slid his hold down to Mark's forearms to carry his hands onto the top of the box.

"C'mon. Mark. Såtte..."

"No."

Meng growled. He lets go of Mark to grab the box and dump whatever's inside it on Mark's lap.

Åsmund's cold, dead eyes stared up at Mark.

Mark couldn't speak, couldn't scream, couldn't vomit, even if he really REALLY wanted to. He needed to.

Instead, he froze right there. He just looked at Åsmund.

What was left of him.

Meng took Åsmund and placed him back in the box, slowly as to torture Mark's trembling eyes longer with the bloody sight of what was...Åsmund's head.

"Now, now." Meng wrapped his arms around Mark's neck, pulling his back against the chair. He was talking in Ascalonian again. "I didn't mean to scare you. I thought I had to make it...clear to you. You know. Who is responsible for everyone here. All services come with... terms and conditions. I hope you can understand. For this interview... We will do it together. There are..."

Meng lets go of Mark, but he grabs his neck instead, pushing Mark to look up, right into Meng's eyes.

"Seemingly small actions that have far-reaching consequences. Everything thing you do can be your last. So...do you accept my terms?"

Mark winced at the hot tears running down his cheeks.

OOC:

Spoiler: Translations

"Unskyldigen jeg."
Excuse me.

"God veld!"
Good evening!

"Hvor er Åsmund?"
Where is Åsmund?

"Såtte..."
Please.

 

[Pikabo]

帝国2212年3月13日
13:26
Star Day 2
Sihuan, Zhenmen

Reading the article on her tablet, Shi tried her best to divide her attention between it and the Premier's narration of the article.

"...Ma'am, it is best not to read the newspaper. It is not always a reliable indicator." Mr. Li said, reclining confidently on his armchair, smiling as he did. He chuckles. "Heh. It's no good, this press. If I wasn't educated, I might've pushed to abolish press freedoms in the House."

Shi rolled her eyes. "Is that a political joke?"

"I'd resign for a moment of laughter from you, Ma'am. Haha!" Mr. Li kept laughing, barely holding it in, and was only able to at the sight of Shi's growing frown.

"Premier...I think it was too early to negotiate.."

Mr. Li held his breath for a moment of silence. Then exhaled. "...We gambled. For peace, we accepted the suggestion and counted on your help."

"From a literature major with no political experience." Shi said, dumbfounded herself. This and the cold temperature set in the room reminds her of the days she tried to upstage her young brother. Planning alone in her cavernous old bedroom in the palace...

"Nevertheless. Without you, the success of the government’s peace policy would not have achieved this much."

Without me...? Shi shook her head to that. It was Meng who always impressed people, never left a bad taste in anyone's mouth. After Mama... Shi never thought it would ever end up...like this. She never does know what to say and, now, she has to...

"Peace and tranquility are a thousand gold pieces..."

Whether she likes it or not.

"But they who love peace mind their own business. Trusting Meng might not be worth his weight in gold."

"...That was certainly not what the Goyanean government believed in giving back Zhenmen."

Mr. Li steadied a pair of tired eyes on Shi. Though tired, his narrow eyes spoke determination and resolve. With much more to be said, Shi already felt where he was coming from.

"As a democracy, Goyanes would have said the choice belongs to the people of Zhenmen. However, knowing the fact that they built a Gotic kingdom on top of an ancient Iterian civilization...may have helped them understand why Zhen claims Ascalon and Zhenmen. To know that your country was divided like spoils by competing empires, as easy as winning a game of cards. To inherit...such a humiliating national heritage."

"I still don't understand." Shi said, thinking how she could add to figure out an answer for herself. "Goyanes could have easily defeated Zhen to defend Ascalon. Their threats are meaningless-"

"Princess Shi. You know your father and the people he associated with. If our claim is not true, they wouldn't have cared. They will restore pride and glory to the Great Zhen Empire. After three-hundred years of colonial rule, people tried to take back what they thought should belong to us and voted for those they believed who could. Where did that lead us? Now our country is more divided than ever."

Shi decided to delay her reply in silence. Thoughtful through her pursed lips and eyes downcast on the floor.

"This is not surprising in our world." Mr. Li added, leaning forward. "Those warlords, these overlords and god-kings, and their interests. Even if no one below them wants war, it has always been quick and easy for them to condemn, demonize an entire nation, and send soldiers around the world in a crazy crusade."

Shi exhaled. She put down her tablet on the coffee table in front of them.

"Avoid defeat and you will avoid success." The question now is whether we succeeded or avoided defeat...

After gathering her thoughts, Shi smiled and returned her gaze to Mr. Li.

"Premier...I think we should move on to domestic affairs."

 

[Pikabo]

帝國2220年8月18日
22:17
Star Day 1
Gaoling, South Iteria

Being driven home in the deep of the night when he's supposed to be in bed. Meng wasn't having it. He isn't going to have any chance of getting it tonight. He wasn't going to give those dirty rats any more chances of living. Lowlifes, like the last one who pathetically call themselves The White Flower.

...Seriously? Have all the respectable names, sharp epithets that can strike fear on the individual, dwindled until it went Stan Yera or bust? Where's the creativity?

And their choices of meeting place were an abandoned warehouse, a cheap love motel, and a sewer tunnel? Just the notable few of their disgusting selection. What an unnecessary cliche! Crime doesn't pay is a fib crafted in cheap police PR campaigns.

Oh well. All the more reason to exterminate the human-sized parasites that bring sickness and death on the hardworking people of Zhen.

The emperor's incoherent muttering grew clearer once he pulled off his black leather glove still wet of blood. "...skinflints. What kind of gang calls itself after fucking analgesics?"

Meng reached in his pocket and pulled out a gold cigarette case. He opened it and put a stick in his mouth.

"Finally, we canceled the damn White Flower." Cringing, Meng threw the bloody glove at his feet to join the other one he took off upon entering the car earlier. He was so ready to end the day and go back to his bedroom.

Meng glances at Zhang. "...How's Ulrik with Rong's wife? Five hours have passed since I killed the ugly bastard and his kiddy club."

"...U-Ulrik's cleaning up the scene." Zhang said softly, fear trembling in his voice. "H-He's on his way back to the City Convention Center."

"Good news!" Meng lit up, smiling gleefully at Zhang.

The big man shirked his head down on reflex before he steadied himself, knowing how it might upset Meng. Luckily, the emperor was too caught up with the news and he ignored it. Meng would even admit he was a bit overreacting.

Of course Zhang wouldn't dare ask to know for certain. He's a bull with no balls, so to speak. Meng made sure his general nonsense demonstrated the unpredictable bouts of insanity that comes along with it, which he would fully enjoy if he doesn't have to restrain himself all the time in order to maintain some form of decency.

This way, the anxious Zhangs of the world could never tell where anything leads to whenever Meng is bossing them around. Nothing for any able-bodied men to dissect, rationalize, and lead a movement against. Zhang must have sworn he survived too many times where Meng would have certainly killed him. To that, the proud emperor grins as he basks in Ulrik's change of work ethics.

"Glad he didn't choose to cuddle this time!" Meng happily exclaimed.

Zhang stared at Meng. Then, hesitating before he coughs, "...W-What can he embrace?"

Meng paused. His smile reduced, slowly as it dawned on him, to an expressionless slit.

"Right. I did order him to finish her off after...you know." Meng nodded to a heavy sigh from his chest. His closed eyelids clenched.

He doesn't like it when he forgets about the small things. It often ruined a lot of important stuff.

There was a buzzing noise that played on a repeat. Meng looked at the source and found Zhang with his phone out.

"Yes...?" Zhang answered.

The emperor could hear a voice coming from the other end of that call, yet Zhang wasn't uttering a sound. He didn't look like he was breathing either. He held the phone against his ear, staring silently in front of him. He's acting as if he's not on the line with anyone.

Meng couldn't figure out if he was just annoyed or what, but he couldn't stand looking at the dumb expression adorning his right hand man.

He spits out the cigarette stick that was still in his mouth. Zhang dove down to pick it up from the floor.

"Say what it is, Zhang. Or I will cut off your-"

"Some of The White Flower escaped!"

Ignoring Zhang's possessive hold, Meng nabbed the phone out of his hands.

"Listen here. If you don't find these monkeys, you will join them for the big exciting jump-off at the first building I set my eyes on..."

The car stopped moving. Something caught his attention in the dark city streets. He was attracted by the colorful and bright ice cream sign in front of it, and it was certainly not tall enough. Still, it put a smile on Meng's face.

"You're lucky I saw a low-rise. I'll let you off with this if you manage to catch just one of them. If you still fail this, I will personally inflict the Scarlet Red punishment on you. Alright...? Thank you... Yes... And say your goodbyes... Just in case."

Meng threw the phone at Zhang without looking, sending it off in the wrong direction and made Zhang lunge towards it. It did not end painlessly, with Zhang's face pressed against the car window on his side. At Meng's side, the young emperor was grinning to himself.

Taking out his own phone, he turned on the screen to see if he had any notifications, only to frown at the lone message that reads Mark is uncooperative.

Meng side-glances at Zhang. The burly man flinched, quickly putting in Meng's discarded cigarette back in his mouth. Zhang then took out his lighter and lit up Meng's cigarette.

"It's been three weeks..." Meng mumbled. "How much longer until Korovka Syndrome kicks in?"