The sun rose early the next morning, painting the rocky landscape a soft pink. It dawned upon a new day, a day that would go down in history as the day Nirvivan was founded.
I have seen many things, but few were more miraculous than that battle. A small force of poorly equipped men attack a fortified force 3 times larger than them. And they won.
John, led at the front, the brilliant sun behind him blinding all that dared gaze upon it. His pistols pounded out a steady rhythm, felling officers in the dozens. And when his bullets ran out, his blade tasted blood. Behind him the brave men of Nirvivan followed their indomitable general, blazing with passion. But even with Sunshot himself at their lead, some things cannot be overcome.
Just when it seemed like it was over, Tomas struck from the back, having scaled a sheer cliff to reach them. Sunshot raised his pistol and a bullet flew straight into the air, catching the rays of the rising sun and seeming to become a sun itself. Thunderous booms rang out as hidden explosives discharged their payloads amid the Fraldian forces.
“CHARGE!” screamed John, the very picture of glory.
The Nirvivian forces charged up the hill with renewed vigor, the disoriented Fraldian forces struggling to deal with both the suicidal charge and the small elite force, led my Tomas, spreading devastation.
In the end they fell short. I watched in awe as John crested the fortification and began to lay into the enemy. When the dust cleared a Nirvivian flag topped the hill and the defeated Fraldian force left in shame, having been stripped of all their possessions.
The greatest of the Fraldian armies had fallen. The rest would soon follow.
Two weeks later, Sunshot’s army marched into a devastated Rashek. Lines of dirty and bloody people lined the streets, watching. Silence permeated the city, a silence filled with disbelief and growing realization. There is a moment, balanced over the chasm of defeat and the zenith of victory, where all stops. The certain knowledge of impending death evaporates like morning gloom in the face of the sun and light streams through the dissipating darkness.
Then John Nirvan, Sunshot in the flesh, stepped to the front, and in a voice that seemed come from everywhere, announced,
“It is over. We are free.”
A single cheer came from the mouth of a dust-streaked boy, fist raised in victory.
The world exploded into sound, the previous silence shattering like the former truth of Fraldian dominance. No man is free until he believes he is free.
The celebration lasted for days, a triumphant rebuilding of the capital of their new nation.
In the skeleton of the old council building, a meeting to decide the fate of a nation was convening. The assembly knelt before the high dais, upon which John stood.
“What is the meaning of this?” he questioned.
An assembly member stood and stepped forward,
“We have convened, and it has been decided. You shall be the progenitor of the new royal line of Nirvivan.”
Humans have a saying, one that I have seen proven apt throughout the ages. Die the hero or live to become the villain. Power corrupts all things in the end. By all metrics, Sunshot was following that path. His opportunity to die the hero had passed. Now all that remained was villany. And yet…
John looked over the gathered assembly, the most powerful people on the continent, kneeling before him and suddenly felt tired. He remembered when he had wanted power like this, when he had dreamed of it. Now it all felt so… hollow. All he wanted was to lay down his weapons and quietly pass into eternity. He was no king. Merely a man. And no man should wield the fate of so many others. It was kings that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. He turned to look at Tomas, and saw the hesitation in his eyes. He didn't believe this was the right decision either.
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“No. There shall be no kings here. No man deserves to wield such power.”
The assembly looked at him in shock, unable to believe a man could turn down such power.
Another assembly member stepped forward,
“Then… who shall rule? Who shall protect the people? Who shall affirm our sovereignty?”
Tomas stepped forward, the hope in his eyes reigniting with a familiar fire,
“I have an idea.”
They listened for hours and Tomas detailed a new form of government, one for the people and ruled by the people. No longer would the people bow to the whims of the king but rather it would be the other way around. It embodied the very essence of the war they had just fought. I will admit, even I was impressed by the foresight he had shown in the plan. It was detailed and meticulous. At the end, nearly everyone was nodding in agreement.
John stepped forward,
“Then it is done. Let this be our new government”
He started to organize the meeting, taking control of it as he had so many times before. Then he stopped. Why was he doing that? He didn't want to lead. The sudden thought struck him like a lightning bolt, and he looked back at the war, at how he had changed during it. He was the sum of his moments, and throughout the war those moments had been with him in ultimate power. There was no time of dissent or democracy in war. There was only command and death. That command had changed him. Forever. He was not suited to this new type of leadership, one that required listening and deliberation with others. He was not needed. The thought struck him harder than he expected. He had grown used to the power and respect. He wanted to assert it, hold onto it despite his exhaustion. He did not want to be a king, yet the desire to be the greatest of men had not been purged. It was a trap. The more he asserted his power, the more it would grow and the greater effect its assertion would have. His power was already too great. It affected things he should not be meddling in.
He sighed out loud. He had almost fallen. It truly was time to step down.
“Tomas. Come here.”
Tomas looked confused for a second, then joined him on the dais.
“I vote Tomas act as the first among us.”
A shocked silence filled the chamber,
“What about you?” somebody yelled.
“I will be stepping down. I am not suited to this. I am a man of violence, not peace.”
The room erupted into chaos, only to be silenced by a hand from John,
“My mind is made. I will hinder the birth of our nation more than help. If you have ever trusted me, trust me in this. Tomas will lead us higher than ever.”
He turned to Tomas,
“Are you ready for this?”
Tomas looked back, burning with those familiar flames,
“Yes, Sir!”
“Then my work is done”
He faced the quiet assembly, and to their shock bowed deeply to them.
“It had been my honor fighting alongside you all. In that you have made our nation proud.”
He swept his gaze through them for the last time, taking in the men that had given everything for their country. Remembering the battles he fought alongside them. They had all grown marvelously. They were ready.
“Make it proud once more. Goodbye my friends.”
And with those last words, he turned around and walked out of the assembly room.
To walk out is among the hardest of achievements. In that action John Nirvan truly earned my respect, a feat few mortals can claim.
He spent the rest of his life in quiet contemplation and when his time came I pressed him into a traveling star, forever separated from the people he had fought for, forever in peace.
Tomas forged a new government, unique in the world, creating a prosperous nation. When his time came I let him become one with the document he had spent his life forging. A code of laws that defined how government should function. He would forever act as its spirit.
Power is a concept all men seek to wield, but in the end, it is often power the wields man.
Only those that can give up power are qualified to wield it.
A paradox that has haunted humanity for all time.
Unsolvable.