The Last Emperor of Mercury ruled with an iron fist cast from the mines at the planet’s core. She had inherited the gauntlet from her father, who had ruled for 100 years before her. However, the emperor’s fury surpassed even that of her father’s. It guided her every decision.
As the mist cleared, the Ranger could see, in the distance, a city on a hill. A hill once verdant and green now lay blackened by industry. The corrupted soil and exposed rocks lay under the open sky, a scarred visage destroyed by greed.
This was how the ranger viewed it. Named Lin Car-to by her grandmother, she had grown up in woods and forest encampments far from the reach of the dictator’s regime. As a child, she played at the feet of oaks and conifers. Her memories were filled with the lilting notes of her mother’s reed pipe, crafted from the thick stalks that grew in the marshy wetlands. She never knew fear as a child. Her father kept a watchful eye at all times, leaping among the sturdy branches overhead. Later, he would train her in those same branches, teaching her how to see without being seen. They were the guardians of the forest, the keepers of secrets. The kind of secrets that could topple nations. That is the burden of the Rangers.
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Here in the Madginella 3 timeline, named after Kris-Jon I, a great-great-great-aunt of the emperor, who served as ruler and pope during a decades-long reign. It was under Pope-Emperor Kris-Jon I that the family first began to expand the borders of their city-state. Expansion called for war, and war needed resources. The emperor took control of the mining operations which had once been a cottage industry, with Mercurian natives freelancing their labor in caves that belonged to no one. Under her holy highness, the caves were deepened, and happy villages became grim mining camps. At the emperor’s death, her birth name was returned to her as the crown and title were passed on to a nephew. And so Madginella rests in peace, although her bloody fingerprint is forever smeared across the history of this timeline.
The young emperor Liga-Tito-So had been taught the history of the planet from the bias of a royal tutor. Her family led with the power of legacy. The crown on her head carried a manifest destiny passed from one leader to the next. The first time she had raised the iron gauntlet and heard the cheer of the gathered crowd, her heart was filled with immense pride. A singular focus took hold of her mind, the fever of expansion. Under her guidance, their armies would wipe out the enemies her weak father had let crouch on their holy lands.
Unlike Emperor Liga-Tito-So, the ranger Din Car-to viewed the incessant mining as a devastation of their natural world. The legacy handed to her was one of guardianship, yet historically the Rangers retreated instead of pushing back against encroaching forces. A secret existence was the traditional way to preserve a sacred way of life in the trees. Now, Din dreamed of crippling the royal forces and ending their expansion for good.
She was not alone in this desire. The latest batch of rangers, fresh-faced and fierce in the confidence of their skills, were a generation of change. The new growth of their forest called for protection. The saplings whispered rebellion as the young rangers trained. Elders warned against change, but nature is born of change. The young generation of humans and trees saw a long winter ahead if no effort was raised.
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The ranger Din had been sent by the sycamore trees to eradicate the Emperor's posted guard at the edge of the stolen border. She was joined by others, freshly graduated from the apostolate. Donning cloak and pressed with guiding principles, they scouted the Rangers’ Road. Their electric motorbikes were silent and quick, zipping across the countryside. The rich carpet of leaves gave way to dust and stone as they exited the eastern edge of the forest domain. At last, the brave warriors reached the outskirts of the royal city.
As they hid in the walls of the city, squeezing through shadows, Din heard something that reminded her of home. It was a song her father would sing when he was relaxed. At the end of the day, beside the communal fire. With the accompaniment of her mother’s reed pipe, he would bellow and make everyone smile. The words and melody were the same, but it sounded different. Lin had never heard a RoboMinstrel perform, and the music had a metallic tinge that grated on her ears.
Every-body loves a muskrat, dancing through the night. Every-body loves a muskrat. Billy, ain’t that right? This is where the horns would go. Real brassy with a heavy, little bass. There in the background, real simple, just three chords. However many coins it takes, you get the picture. Bring it in! Everybody loves a muskrat.
[Transmission interrupted]
Listen up, tots and turds, the radical times are upon us! Look to the clouds, they speak for the universe. To join the movement, wake up and be r-r-radical!
[Transmission resumes]
“I never thought you’d be brave enough to come here again.” The emperor was reclined in a chair in her private quarters as Din slipped into an open window.
“Yeah, well, you should have seen this coming.”
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Three arrows swished through the air, bouncing off the metal throne. The empress waved her hand and smoke billowed from the palm of the iron gauntlet. An ominous glow emanated from the crimson ring set into the metal.
“I am the last emperor.” She was hovering above the ground, looming over the rangers. Din raised her shield in the defensive posture she had been taught. Her companions found confidence in the bravery she exuded.
The emperor seemed to explode and beams of bright, red light shot across the room. Raised in the branches of the ancient forest, Lin and the rangers moved with a fearsome deftness. She lept and spun in the air, dodging the crimson beams that cut through furniture with the ease of a knife through soft cheese. The emperor’s eyes burned with hate, and she focused her attack at the lead ranger. Din flipped over Liga’s head and perched on the back of the throne.
A swipe of the deadly blade of Sar-won, and the iron gauntlet shattered. The crimson stone fell and grew dark. The last emperor of Mercury crouched in the shadows of the room, afraid fort he first time in her life. Her posture belayed the weakness of her youth. The ranger Din stood triumphant, but the winds of empathy blew through her soul. Whispers of the ancient oaks came back to her, and the lilting notes of mother’s reed pipe echoed through her memory.
“You will not die, today, Liga-Tito-So, although you never hesitated in eradicating life.”
“All of my hopes and dreams are gone.” The emperor spoke bitterly.
“That’s funny,” Din said drily, “with the death of your dreams the hope of Mercury rises again.”
The Rangers soon cleaned up the city, righting the wrongs that had transpired under the emperor’s reign. Nature began to regrow on the hill, although it would be several generations before the forest reached its former glory. The sycamore trees repaid the Rangers with kindness for 500 years by sheltering their encampment. It grew in harmony with the trees until it was a magnificent metropolis known throughout the galaxy.
Peace lasted until the War of Leaf and Flame, but we'll go into that another time. All of this is recorded in the further histories of the galaxy, although much has been lost due to faulty wiring and blackouts. For now, let us close the digital book and place it back on the holoshelf.
Good night, dear reader.