Jess Lebow - The Darksteel Eye

Councilor Orland smiled. “Excellent.” He looked to the other two representatives who urged him on with a wave of their hands. “As you may know, age old vedalken bylaws require that in order to change the voting structure of our government, a unanimous vote by all the members of the Synod is required. In the absence of Lord Pontifex, you have been summoned here to vote in his stead-” he turned slowly around the room, taking in each and every face-“much as you voted to accept me into the Synod only a moon cycle ago.” He stopped and looked down at the parchment in his hand. “This time, there is no tie that needs to be broken. It matters not the weight of each vote, for any vote against this measure will be the end of it.”

Orland took a deep breath. This was the moment he had been waiting for since the day he had become a councilor. “So, I ask you now, good representatives-” he looked at Sodador and Tyrell-“and councilors, how do you vote? Up or down?”

Orland held two of his four arms out before him, his thumbs pointing toward the ceiling.

Sodador and Tyrell stood up from their bench. They too held their hands out, their thumbs stretched to the sky.

Orland smiled. His insides jittered in anticipation. Scanning his eyes up the long spiral, he took note of each representative’s vote.

Every thumb in the chamber pointed up.

“Congratulations, my friends,” he said, lifting all four of his arms in the air in celebration. “Welcome to the new Free Republic of Vedalken.”

* * * * *

The trip to the Quicksilver Sea had taken no time at all. Pontifex and his soldiers had climbed aboard Malil’s levelers. The vedalken’s four hands made it easy for them to hold onto the killing devices’ steering tails and hides. The remains of the elite guard had ridden the whole way atop the swift metallic beasts.

Crossing over the rippling ocean with the aid of Pontifex’s magic, they entered Lumengrid. Inside, the halls were quiet, save for a handful of low-level functionaries carrying on mundane business. When the vedalken citizens saw Pontifex and his retinue, they disappeared into doors or around corners.

“What’s going on here?” demanded Pontifex.

“The people are afraid of the levelers,” replied Marek.

Pontifex was irritated. “I am their lord. They should not cower from me.”

Just then another vedalken stepped out of an alley, his attention focused on a memo in his hands. When he looked up and saw the group, his eyes opened wide, and he tried to dart away, but Pontifex grabbed him by the front of his robes.

“Why do you run, citizen?”

“I … I …”

“Where has everyone gone?” shouted the vedalken lord.

The vedalken swallowed hard. “They’re in the People’s Assembly Hall.”

Pontifex released him, and the vedalken citizen stumbled backward, dashing away as fast as he could.

“The Assembly Hall,” said Pontifex. A cold chill ran over his skin. “Orland.” He took off, dashing down the corridors, running straight for the inverted cone-shaped hall near his own chambers. There could be only one reason-

Turning the corner, Pontifex burst through the doors of the People’s Assembly Hall.

“Pontifex? What a surprise.” Orland stood on the floor at the bottom of the chamber. Sodador and Tyrell near him, a look of contentment on their faces.

“Don’t you mean ‘Lord Pontifex,’ Councilor Orland?”

Around the outside of the room, arrayed on the viewing platform, all of the vedalken elected representatives were in attendance. They stared at him, their expressions ranging from shock to amused silence.

“No, Pontifex,” said Orland. “There are no more lords among the vedalken.”

“What are you talking about, Councilor?”

“We have taken a vote.” Orland waved his hands in the air, indicating all the vedalken in the room. “The Vedalken Empire is no more.”

Pontifex laughed. “That’s preposterous. If there is no more empire, then why are you all still here? The people and the empire are one and the same.”

Orland nodded. “How right you are, Pontifex. Only, we prefer to call it a republic.”

“Oh, please,” spat the former vedalken lord. “Who will lead the people? Who will make the laws and instill order in the masses? Surely you don’t think the representatives can rule?”

A loud rustling sound filled the chamber as the assembled citizens shifted and scowled, reacting to Pontifex’s words.

“Actually,” replied Orland, “that’s exactly what we think.”

Pontifex beat his hands against the railing. “This cannot happen. I will not allow it. I am still the leader of the Synod. Nothing happens in Lumengrid without my approval!”

“No, Pontifex,” said Sodador, “the Synod no longer exists. We’ve formed a parliament. The elected representatives now have all the power.” He took a step, leaning heavily on his cane and limping. “In fact, you’re the only one here without a vote.”

Pontifex looked around the room. How could they do this to him? After all he had done for the empire, this was how he was rewarded. He had dedicated his life to the service of all vedalken, and now he was cast out.

Tyrell stood up from the bench where he sat on the floor of the chamber. “Now, for the next piece of business,” he said. “I bring before you a resolution of imprisonment.” The older statesman held out a piece of metal parchment, holding it at arm’s length and leaning his head back to view what was written on its surface. “Wherein: The Free Republic of Vedalken has found citizen Pontifex to be within the jurisdiction of this governing body and its limits of prosecution and retributive justice. And Wherein: This parliament has found the former lord of the empire to have committed numerous crimes against the people. Let it be resolved that free citizen Pontifex be immediately apprehended and imprisoned, to await trial and punishment for his repeat offenses against the republic and its denizens.”

“You’re imprisoning me?” shouted Pontifex.

Orland nodded. “Yes.”

The door behind him opened, and a pair of armed guards burst in. One leveled his halberd at him. The other produced a set of four manacles.

Pontifex narrowed his eyes, glaring down on the three former councilors standing on the floor. “You will not get away with this,” he said. “Mark my words, I will make you all pay for this treachery.”

Turning around, he lowered his eyes to the ground and stuck his arms out straight, presenting his wrists for shackles. As the guard moved to take him custody, Pontifex lifted his head. He finished mouthing the last word of a spell, and a jet of brilliant blue energy shot from each of his hands.

His spell struck both guards. Pontifex lifted his arms over his head, and the guards shot into the air, their arms flailing, their legs moving as if to run, but both were held fast by powerful magics.

A gasp escaped the lips of the collected representatives, filling the Assembly Hall with the booming noise of a million whispers.

Spinning around, Pontifex lifted the two suspended guards over his head and looked back down at Orland. Their eyes met. The former vedalken lord hurled his fists toward the floor. Both guards shrieked. Magnified by the chamber, it bounced off the walls, overtopping the collective gasp. Both vedalken fell.

Orland jumped away, but the older Tyrell and the lame Sodador were not so quick. The falling guards landed atop the two councilors, and the crunching sound of bones breaking replaced all other noise in the hall-amplified a hundred fold.

Pontifex smiled as he looked over the rail. Only Orland remained moving. The other four lay on the ground in a broken pile, their blue blood mixing as it seeped out onto the floor in a large puddle.