Anson was dragged out of the room by some guards and thrown into a holding cell on the first floor. He was right when he had the blindfold on. He and Deo were brought to the Chairman’s private residence. The same place Chairman Hektor Daniels pinned a medal on Anson. Sitting on a cold stone bench next to a toilet and surrounded by bars, Anson kept on thinking about what Deo had done. Was it spite? A moment of anger? Fear of years of imprisonment? Or he did actually hate me that much?
It was hard to think. The promise of life imprisonment clouded his judgement as Anson gazed around the poorly lit holding cell. Then, a noise emerged from outside the cell. Anson looked and saw, approaching the jail guard’s desk was Cyril. In brand new, but more importantly, civilian clothing. Anson watched in shock as Cyril asked the guard to see Anson in private, which the guard denied but let him talk between the bars.
Not challenging the order, Cyril walked over to Anson and gave a polite smile as Anson stood up and went face to face with Anson. “I have some explaining to do,” Cyril lead with.
“It seems so.” Anson quietly responded.
“My dad seemed to be of some worth to the Chairman. I was in a stagecoach for a while before it came to a stop. However, they did drag me out. I just sat there for about ten minutes or so before my dad, without any restrains on him, pulled the blindfold off and said that we were free.”
“How?” Anson asked in disbelief.
“Apparently the stagecoach service is of such importance to the Chairman, he allowed my dad to oversee, hearing out my dad, and how he was forced to comply under the threat of death to do whatever you told him to do.”
“And how did you get out?”
“There were some conditions.” Cyril admitted. “I am to be under house arrest for five years while I am forced to work under my dad. I am apparently supposed to do the bookkeeping, all the while four guards watch over me. Two during the day and two for the night.”
There was a moment of silence as Anson soul felt a little better, hearing that not all of his comrades would be shot in the head, either by a city guard or themselves. “Where’s Baldwyn,” Anson asked. “Where are they keeping him?”
Cyril paused for a moment, looking back at the guard before speaking again. “They—they didn’t catch him yet.”
“Really?” Anson asked, not believing his ears. “How did he get out of the stock market?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that right after you talked with us and walked with Osman, he immediately grabbed Hera and made his way to the back exit. But from there, I couldn’t find an unlocked or open backdoor out of the building. Though, I did have significantly less time.”
Anson let a soft smile emerge for a moment. Somehow, half of the group that was meant to die in the operation made it out with significant punishment. But, of course, not all. “Osman and Deo are dead.” Anso told Cyril.
“What? How? Deo makes sense, he probably tried to escape, but Osman?”
“I don’t know,” responded Anson. “The Chairman slit his throat right in front of us. In his own office, nonetheless. And Deo…” Anson didn’t say anything after.
“And?” Cyril tried to pry a response out of him.
“It’s hard to explain,” said Anson. “He…killed himself. He killed himself so that I could live.
“What—”
“I don’t know.” Anson interrupted. “The Chairman offered one of us life imprisonment and the other death. Deo took the opportunity to die before I could.”
“How’d he kill himself?” Cyril asked.
“Crossbow through the head.”
Cyril winced, stepping back for a moment at the thought of it. “In Hektor’s office?” Cyril inquired and was met with a nod. “And why did he offer that?”
“Again, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a psychotic thing he does. He seemed disappointed that the cloth on the floor meant to catch the blood wasn’t big enough.”
Cyril stopped his line of questioning but was instead now met with questions from Anson. “You seriously going to work under your dad?”
Cyril looked back at the guard before responding quietly. “Honestly? I might pick up a Sovan to Dymish dictionary. Sneak out onto a boat in a year or two and escape to The Expert’s Commonwealth. I know. Ironic.”
“You think they might find out that you served for a former enemy’s navy?” Anson asked.
“Well, I am not planning on keeping my name. I’ll probably end up finding a middle of the line job in a big city over there. All I need is the money and patience to escape my dad first.”
“Can I ask you something?” Anson questioned. “But you have to answer me.”
“Yeah, what is it.” Cyril responded.
“Why do you hate your dad?
Sighing Cyril groaned as he looked up at Anson, then back, down and lastly met eyes with the man once more. “Fine I’ll tell you. He killed my mom. I don’t have any evidence to prove it, but she was ‘accidently’ crushed by one of his stagecoaches. I saw her body myself. It looked like the stagecoach ran her over twenty times.” Cyril let the air out of his body as he finished. A man who had barely any sleep in the last day made to relive his mothers’ death.
“My God,” responded Anson.
“Yeah. It’s why I ran from him. And from the looks of it, he doesn’t regret it in the slightest.”
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It was then more guards walked into the holding cell area and called for Anson. “The Chairman demands your presence.” Cyril stepped aside as the guards told Anson to reach out his hands so they could restrain them before leaving the cell. As they opened the door as began to walk, Anson stopped for a moment and looked at Cyril, who was leaning against the wall. “I suppose it is goodbye.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll visit you in prison. While I can.” He then nodded and the guards dragged Anson back to the Chairman’s office, all the while, Anson thought about how Cyril could escape his house arrest. There were many different routes, but not enough time for the man could come up with a full-blown plan. Before he knew it, Anson was sat down in the same chair that Hektor sat in with the crossbow in his lap, but this time in front of the man’s desk.
The blood, skull pieces, and any sign of Deo and Osman’s dead bodies were now gone as Anson sat in a room one and half hours after midnight, with his only company being Chairman Hektor Daniels who sat behind his desk, signing a paper. Anson looked at the man, trying to understand his natural being. Even though he hated the man so much, he realized how little he actually knew about the man’s day to day existence. But that train of thought wouldn’t last long either as Hektor looked up at Anson, leaned back in his chair and asked: “Did you have any idea what you were doing?”
The question instantly pissed off Anson. He was nearly about to overthrow this man, making him watch his country change hands and rid itself of his corruption, but now that same man doubted his intelligence. “Yes, yes I did.” Anson responded. “I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“And do you know why you were doing it?” followed up the Chairman.
Anson’s mouth opened but no words came out as he considered if he should actually tell the Chairman the truth. “For the money, why less?” He lied.
Smiling, the Chairman shook his head. “That’s not what I heard. I heard you hate me. Wanted me to watch my country go down in flames.” Wiping his face, the Chairman pulled out a glass from his cabinet and poured himself a glass of water. “And you kept going after you knew that you had no support from the mercenaries. Instead deciding to go the headquarters and convince all of them there to join you.”
“And how do you know all these details?” asked Anson.
“Various sources. Some closer to you than others.”
Anson’s mind immediately went to Cyril. Did he lie to me? Instead giving up information for reduced time served? That doesn’t make sense, the Chairman surely isn’t that lenient.
“Did you consider going through the legal means?” asked the Chairman. “You could have gone very far with that.”
“The legal means?” Anson asked, furious at the question. “How in the world was I supposed to go through the legal means of overthrowing a man who controlled a majority of the shares? Ask you politely me to sell yours?”
“People think they know so much about the nature of what I do and the people I deal with every day, but they do not. You included. Every historical event, war, or struggle of power was never the intended goal, it’s the failure. Most of the time you have to go through what most people would consider ‘weak’ channels of power. Following the rules, listening to your boss, and lying low. It’s like being a Knees player. You cannot break the rules and there is only one way to win, and it is fair. And what happens? People may complain or think a person shouldn’t have one, but at the end of the day, no one can take it away from you.”
“Unless the game is fixed,” responded Anson. “I’m sure you love watching your fortunate grow as you watched rigged matches from your private box.”
The Chairman shook his head. “I never watch games I bet on. Ruins the fun of it. And that final today was a very nice one. You must have enjoyed it.”
“I was a little busy.” Anson responded. “What are you going to do with me?”
Taking a drink of water, the Chairman offered it to Anson, but, naturally, he refused. “I don’t get to talk to many people honestly,” said the Chairman. “The only times I have this conversation are with people I never expect to have any risk of influencing my future at all. People who won’t be in the know. Such as you this entire day. You had no idea what the plan was.”
“Osman told me.” Anson responded, “But I’m sure he didn’t know everything either.”
The Chairman shook his head. “If he did, he would have never agreed. You see, the original plan was to have you caught at the second location, but once you left, a pivot was needed. I saw an opportunity. To rid this wretched country of its old ways. The Kadon and Sovan Triads. The mercenaries. It’s a backwards ownership system of government shares. But now, you have delivered me every share in the republic on a silver platter. Along with that, I have a valid excuse to seize all of them.”
“So, you can take total control.”
“So, I can fix this country. Every time I attempt to cure this country of the cancer that plagues it, a headache consumes my mind. However, this is the final headache, and I can being to excise the ticking death sentence.” The Chairman leaned back in his chair and looked at his glass for a moment before speaking again. “Libo and Teoland are near war again. Like they have been nearly a dozen times before. This time it is the same reason as it was the last war: salt.
The Chairman gestured to the office. “This republic only is a buffer state so neither has too much power to overrun the other, but I doubt that will last. Even if it did, I don’t want it. This country should stand on its own two feet. People may die, but…” He nodded his head like he was finally realizing he had been ignoring for a long time, even though he subconsciously already knew. “I’ve always found it easier to see further on the mounds of dead men.”
“You’re a monster,” Anson spat. “You justify this whole thing and the death alongside it because this country might be better as a result? You’re missing the details. You’re willing to kill millions of people so thousands could live a little better?”
“I am not justifying, I am pivoting. Which is something you did not do. I heard about your little rule you put in place, only to let it slip from your hands. You didn’t change it of your own free will, but rather, let others make the decision for you. If you are going to break a rule, make sure you do not feel bad doing it, or it will delay you. You failed to adapt.”
Anson wanted to tear the man’s face open, but with his restraints, he sat there like a pig waiting for the slaughter. “Are we done?” he asked.
“No. We must discuss what will happen to you first. Deo is dead, Baldwyn and Eros are missing, and when they are found, they shall be killed. However, Cyril, Vasos, and you will live. Cyril and Vasos still provide a service but if they ever stop, they will die as well. But for you, I don’t want you dead. The type not to reach for the crossbow would surely welcome its bolt’s embrace. Instead, you shall be exiled rather than sent to prison so that if you are broken out, you won’t be near me. There is a work camp in between Kyknos and Ormos near the Teoland border. You shall chop down timber until you collapse from exhaustion. If you escape, you will either die from little resources or be caught. If we catch you, then you shall be branded on your entire body saying that you are a prisoner. It is a hard sign to miss for a city guard.
The Chairman then stood up to make his way to the door. “That is all,” he said as he got up. But before he reached the door, Anson spoke up once again. He had a question for the man. “Yes.” He said, standing by the door. Anson turned his entire body so he could look at Hektor as he heard the question.
“You made this grand plan to ensure all these shares fell into your lap, all the while I was a pawn in your game. Not knowing I was doing whatever you wanted. What if you’re someone else’s pawn and you have no idea? You’re just an Osman and you are in the middle of an operation you didn’t know existed. Controlled by the Sultan of Libo or a general in Teoland. All it would take is a swing of a knife to end it all.”
The Chairman nodded, seemingly pretending that Anson brought up a good point. “It’s hard for a fish to envision what the life of a human is like. What you see as cruel is only done to prevent future crimes and atrocities. There is a whole world above water. One that you will never see.” He paused and looked around for a moment before locking eyes with Anson. The two stared as the Chairman said: “Goodbye,” and the simply opened the door to leave. Anson sat back in his chair, waiting for the guard to walk in seconds later and start the long journey to the work camp.