Chapter 25
As for Zungher Dol, he focused very little on the start of Princess Lillian’s trial that morning. He kept to his regular routine (awakened by staff at dawn, the first meal eaten alone where he could read that day’s briefing device, and then head into his office where he would spend the rest of the day managing the affairs of Merlain). The briefing mentioned the trial, but there wasn’t much to report since it was only the first day. Dol was reasonably confident in Amnon Saxe delivering an uneventful day logistically and in Tavros Fen handling all of the messaging once court broke for the day.
Nova’s identity, whereabouts, and plans were more concerning to him. Whoever this “artist” was, Dol feared that his messages would only gain traction with the simple-minded people over whom he ruled. As he crunched his warm and savory food, he sought connection after connection to get to the bottom of Nova’s treachery. One of Dol’s lessons upon leaving the impossible reign of King Valen, was that it was best to get ahead of crime and prosecute criminals before they were guilty. The Coellum practice of knowing who potential rebels were and even knowing what actions they were about to take, yet waiting for the criminals to strike before taking action, was ridiculous. Dol often told his former sovereign that failing to act on such information only put his people in harm’s way. Thus, when he established his rule on Merlain, Zungher made it a personal mission to stamp out a rebellion at the merest hint of a whisper. Nova needed to be rooted out and it needed to happen now.
But regardless of how hard he looked at the past pieces, locations, times when the crimes were committed, even looking at the materials used, Zungher Dol could not establish any better pattern or connections than his intelligence agents gave him. He pushed the device away, his eyes fatigued. Would that this Nova could be crushed, then he could go back to ruling in peace. Well, he thought, Nova and Lillian. But Lillian was almost a non-issue. She was in his custody, she was facing his tribunal, and she was days away from facing his wrath. Sure the rest of the realm maybe focused on Lillian, but as the leader, Dol knew that he needed to put his efforts on the next hurdle and it was Nova and the potiential people he represented.
The Chieftain signaled for his dishes to be removed and he made his way, by lift, to his office. At the door stood one of his assistants who passed him a new device that had a live look at what Tavros Fen’s Communication Department was feeding the other realms. Dol gave the obligatory smile of appriciation to his assistant as he took the device and entered his office. He placed the device on the desk and looked out over the square. To his right and up a few streets was the courthouse and from his office Zungher could see the outer rim of the crowd and the broadcast lighting. Then from behind him he heard the voice of Saw Yatha speaking from his device. Zungher turned his head slowly toward the device, wondering why Saw Yatha had decided to go to the courthouse that morning and more importantly why he was speaking to Communications Officials.
Dol picked up the device just as Saw had finished his comments. There was a smirk on the petulant, one-eyed maverick that Dol wished he could remove with force. Out of curiosity, Dol ran back the feed on his device to when Saw began speaking. He listened with growing ire to Saw’s claims that he, not the Chieftan, was to be hailed for this breakthrough moment in Merlain’s triumph over the other realms.
“Who does he think he is?” Dol muttered to himself. “Of all the arrogant…” he cut himself off as his emotions spilled over into action. Dol brought the device down on the front edge of his desk that it broke clean in two wiping, in an instant, any view of what was going on at the courthouse. Fuming, he went back to his window to stare at the distant courthouse. There was trechery with Nova, trechery with Lillian, and now he had to deal with trechary within his own government. Somehow he’d losened his grip or gotten out of touch. His mind raced to think of where and how, but it failed to point to anything specific.
Well, he thought to himself, I can’t find Nova yet, and Lillian is safely in my care. So, the one bit of trechary I can most easily deal with is Yatha. He raked his tongue across his top teeth as he thought and thought. Then, it came to him. Dol spun around and called for his assistant.
The assistant appeared suddenly in the dooway and gave a proper salute to his Chieftain. “Am I correct in remembering a certain trouble in Farimor?”
“I can look into it, Your Grace,” bowed the assistant and immediate tapped on his device.
“While you’re looking that up, please send in someone to clean my office,” Dol said casually. “The device you gave me broke and I want it removed.”
The assistant looked up from his research to see the jagged half of the device resting precariously on the desk’s edge. His eyes went up to his leader and without changing his blank expression said, “As you wish, Your Grace.”
After a few moments more the assistant returned with the necessary information. “No rebellion that I can find in Farimor, Chieftan. However, records show that there is an underperforming outpost there. It is on the docket for either retraining or removal.”
Yes, that was it, Dol thought to himself. Perfect. “Thank you. That is all,” he waved the back of his hand at the assistant, who bowed and backed out of the office before securing the door again.
Farimor, Dol mused again. It had been cycles since the Chieftain had ventured that far away from the capitol. It was so far away, on the very outskirts of the realm, and so barren, so beautifully baren. The wasteland had nothing to recommend it, no natural grander. For as far as anyone could see Farimor was rocks, yellow-steaming fissures, and acrid lakes. Still, it needed to be guarded, and that outpost needed to be maintained, even at a minimum level. Otherwise, rebels could amass there, or enemies could gather forces there undetected.
A gleam grew in Dol’s eye. Yes, he would send Saw Yatha to Farimor. Saw would whip the outdated outpost into shape and the assignment would be the perfect slap in the face telling Sawy he had no place of influence anymore in Dol’s circles. Yatha couldn’t refuse the assignment either without becoming a rebel himself or risk imprisonment. Oh, wouldn’t that be the height of irony, Dol chuckled.
Zungher’s private delight was interrupted by the assistant returning with a fresh device flickering with images from the courthouse. Dol took the device and saw that the feed had shifted to the trial room. He watched Lillian’s entrance and her defiant speech. How he wished he could wipe the self-righteous countenance off her face and make her see what real power can do. The longer he stared at her image the more his rage rose up within him. How delicious it would be for her to finally bow her stiff neck to him, to have to acknowledge that he was superior to her, her father, and the whole of the Coellum people.
But he knew, if his plan had a chance of success that he would have to let her come to the conclusion herself. He couldn’t barge into her cell with dominance, as Saw Yatha would likely do, and demand allegience. No, he would, yes, he would have to praise her into submission. Just like the animal farmers do when they bring a fresh one to the killing rooms. There are no beatings our loud words, but cheers, encouragement, and pats on the hindquarters. All the while the doomed creature is taking its last steps.
Zungher caressed the image Lillian on his device. Yes, he thought, yes, my words, my whole approach needs to be sweetened for the desired result. And Yatha needed to be flung as far away as possible so that he didn’t botch the whole plan. Dol would finally have his victory over Lillian and Valen. Dol’s fantasy took him to a scene of Lillian returning home. Her father rejoicing at her return, but then upon hearing the news that the Coellum people would be forever the subcordate regents, Valen crumpling to the floor like an old, used up, discarded cloak, dead.
As he continued to stare at his device and the insubordinate princess, Zungher couldn’t help but to chuckle to himself. He was so close to perfection, and he relished in the feeling of triumph. Yes, there was no feeling in the world so blissful as winning.
