Renegade Reborn (2 page)

“Yeah,” Rolce said, as he retrieved a bottle of beer, opened it, and poured it on the ground before the doorway as an offering, a show of respect, since no flowers could be found, then, placed the bottle next to the other two, from the prior years.

“If that came from Grandfield’s stash, he’s gonna be pissed,” Whip said, his arms folded.

“It didn’t,” Rolce said, staring at the empty bottles, that had marked so much passage of time . . . and then, suddenly, he had an idea.

“Chieftain Narroway’s Domain!” Rolce yelled aloud.

Nothing.

“Come on,” Jackobi said, turning to leave, only to realize Rolce wasn’t following.

“Rolce, what you’re seeing, doesn’t mean it’s false. It’s, you know what, forget it. I don’t know what to tell you.” Jackobi said, biting the inside of his mouth.

“I don’t think I can take it any longer. Another year of hiding out? Doing nothing? Making no impact as people flock to his light? Trading their souls for a little comfort? Giving up free will, freedom, for a little security? And what’s worse, what kills me inside, is that he doesn’t even force it on them. They come to him willingly! I don’t think I can take it,” Rolce said. “I can’t take . . . living, in that cold, deserted Ronigade home. Don’t you feel any trace of him here, Jack? Anything? You were his Sentry, weren’t you? You had a special connection,”

“Sentry? Sentry’s do not fail in their mission. The moment, Gisbo died, left? Who knows, I think I lost that title,” Jackobi said. “Don’t you think, that if he were alive, he would have come to us by now? That you, with your mind-link, or I, would feel him? Be able to get in touch with him?”

“Am I the only one that still has hope?” Rolce asked.

“Hope is for fools. That being said, only a fool would hope to change what Drakearon has done to Thera.” Jackobi said, pausing, now looking up at the Rolce.

“And the biggest fool I ever knew . . . when authority, reason, logic, statistics, and definite failure crashed down upon him, told him to bend, he would look ‘em right in the eyes, sputter off something offensive,” Jackobi started, pausing, and giving a rare, slight grin before continuing.

“And punch their consciousness into tomorrow.”

Elsewhere, at that same moment, General Ricard sat within his office quarters, doing his best to drown out the noise being shouted outside the window of his keep. He was Warlord of Oak County now, a position; he never wanted, unlike his predecessor, Karm. If anything, he considered himself a placeholder, until the next in line would reveal himself, but from what he had heard, Heaven’s Shelter, The Renegades, and the line of Vadid, was no more.

“Amnesty for all, or amnesty for none!” A woman with a shrill voice shouted, as a host of others echoed her cheer.

Ricard sighed deeply. He was not a politician, he was a warrior, a warrior still piecing back together his shattered pride since the day Falcon Vadid, a Flarian Renegade of all things, had walked into Oak County, in front of everyone, and walloped him and his entire Elekai’ Elite with little, to no effort. Since then, Karm’s reign, Karm’s carefully ladled lies on the history of Thera to control his people, slipped from his grasp, and things were never the same. Soon, people had Renegade headbands on, waiting, as if one day, The Renegades would come for them, as they did for Gisbo.

Gisbo Falcon, once just shy a level higher than a maggot on a turd, had now climbed into people’s hearts, as the boy who believed, believed he could be anything, and do anything despite where he came from. Society was changing. The whole appearance of The Renegade, standing beyond society, beyond government, beyond measure, became a symbol. People began to remember, remember a time when they weren’t a political party, weren’t their job, weren’t their past, weren’t sheep! Their names were their own, their bodies their own, and their minds, their own, to forge their own paths, their own destiny without anything, or anyone, to tell them differently.

Ricard, in his heart, sided with these folks, but now, they were few and far between. Over the years since the arrival of Falcon, these people left Oak County, sick of the politics, and worse, sick of the people, voting, giving up freedoms, and turning over their lives to people in authority with relish, and even glee, letting a few speak and decide for the many, and Ricard couldn’t blame them. Some people, just didn’t have what it took, others did. How were they to help that? And now, with the sun gone, the past few years were hell. People were frightened. Hell, he was frightened, but mostly, annoyed, having to serve his duties not only on the battlefield, but in meetings, and proceedings, doing his best, to protect his people from themselves, but above all, protect them from the corrupt that seemed to have populated like black rabbits since Karm’s demise, all with their own stubborn agendas, ideals, and ways to fill their pockets. If only . . .

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Ricard said. Hearing the door open, he turned, and saw the last person he wanted to see. A very short, portly woman, with beehive hair and a long, horse face, waddled through the door. As usual, her chin was stuck up, her cheeks were red as a rose, and she was out of breath from walking up the high, winding stairs to his office, nestled on the north side of the castle walls.

“Ricard . . .” The woman greeted in a haughty tone. Ricard gave her a hard stare, right in her eyes, eyes that seemed to always be bugged out of her head, as if she was constantly offended by all she saw, which, in fact, was very close to the truth.

“Mrs. Remil, I . . .” Ricard started, and upon mention of the name, her eyes bugged out even further, like a chameleon’s.

“MISS Blackbox if you please!” Miss Blackbox said.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed that since you were married that,” Ricard started.

“That I would take my husband’s name? That, my dear Richard, is exactly why my Freeist party, and I, do, what we do, to STOP traditional assumptions in their tracks, and stop any and all old, ancient, neanderthal Flarian and Purist party propaganda, or, to put it more accurately, EVIL, in its tracks!” Miss Blackbox said in a huff. Ricard rolled his eyes.

“With picket signs and shouting? All day and night outside my home?” Ricard asked.

“Until you listen, yes! Peaceful ends can ONLY be accomplished, by peaceful means, Richard, something one of your . . . background . . . could never understand, but perhaps if you hear it enough . . .” Miss Blackbox started.

“Miss Blackbox, if you would, please, state your business. I have much work to attend to.” Ricard said, closing his eyes, and rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

“You won’t listen to reason, you won’t listen in proceedings, so, I have come to you personally! The Freeist Party has had it with . . .” Miss Blackbox started.

“And I’ve had it with your unrelenting nagging and one-sided way of thought! The military, is not going anywhere, Miss Blackbox. Weapons will not be melted down. Elekia’ will not be outlawed, and to do away with even one of those things, would only invite more crime within our walls! Just this week we’ve arrested ten men from Black Scar, for rape, murder, and a host of other things I do not even want to discuss in front of a lady,” Ricard said. Miss Blackbox scoffed at the term, ‘lady’ as if he had just violently cursed.

“Spare me your chivalry, Richard. It is not required, and it only belittles me, a woman, in front of your prescence as a man. It only shows that you believe I am inferior.” Miss Blackbox said. Ricard took in a deep breath.

“Fair enough, but what I’m trying to explain to you, Miss Blackbox, is that at one time, criminals had reasons for what they did, whether it be food, water, money, they were fulfilling a need, but now? Ever since this, this damned darkness, people, criminals are changing. Those bordering on the edge, I feel, have gone over, and those already over, well, they have become something worse and are now fulfilling carnal, primal needs, making the darkness their ally.

I’ve studied the records. It used to be that out of 10 criminals, one would be psychotic, and the other 9 would be desperate, but now? In just three years, such numbers have reversed. I’ve been to Blackscar, Miss Blackbox. It is a frightening, horrible place, and to them, when they see our fair city, they don’t see a new home, they see prey . . .” Ricard said. Again, Miss Blackbox scoffed at the logic.

“Typical fascist, generalizing talk! Do you not see why, Richard? They are who they are, because of people like you using hateful words such as ‘psychotic’ and ‘criminal’. They are offensive labels, labels, for people who are sick! And why are they sick? It is because of all these soldiers in their shining armor, and their weapons! Their damned, weapons! It is because of their Elekai’ abilities that they are put on a pedestal above all of those who do not have powers! They are looked up to, while the sick are despised and reviled! It is unfair! We are all equal! Every last one of us, even those outside our walls! As long as our walls and our military remains active, brandishing their weapons and armor and superiority, violence, will continue and peace, will be forever out of our grasps! We must show the outsiders love and acceptance, let them in, let us cure their minds, and all will be . . .” Miss Blackbox started.

“You let wolves into a sheep pen, the wolves will leave nothing alive.” Ricard started. Miss Blackbox threw her arms into the air.

“Oh, so now they’re wolves? And we’re sheep? Is that how you see us, Richard? As sheep? And you, with your sweeping, generalizing Shepard staff, you label us?” Miss Blackbox asked.

“This is getting us nowhere. Obviously, you have your opinions, and I have mine. We are debating what if scenarios. For instance, what if these criminals come in, and rape, and pillage, as I believe they will, and our society crumbles? Or, in your view, what if they don’t, and we live in harmony? What if they play nice? My job, firsthand and foremost, is to keep my people safe from harm as Warlord, and I will do just that. I will not open these gates to see the results of a, ‘what if scenario’. Violence is not always the answer, I agree with you, but . . .” Ricard started.

“VIOLENCE IS NEVER THE ANSWER! Are you not listening to what I’m telling you?” Miss Blackbox asked. “Your military, these Elekai’ users, they worship it!”

“To quote Vadid, although you do not believe in violence, there are certainly those who do. You may be a pacifist, and that’s great. We need more people like you in this world, but pacifists, without a military to protect their right to pacifism, become examples for some, but victims for others. I’ve seen it time and time again, Miss Blackbox. I do not wish to see you, or people like you, become victims, therefore, the military will remain. It is better to have our army, and not need it, than need it, and not have it. Am I making any sense to you? Do you see where I’m coming from?” Ricard asked.

“But that’s what you do not understand! We are all in this together! One world, one people! To favor one society over another is . . .” Miss Blackbox started.

“No one is forcing you to remain here, Miss Blackbox. If you do not like it here, simply, leave.” Ricard offered.

“STOP INTERUPTING ME!” Miss Blackbox said.

“As I said, if that’s how you see the world, that’s fine! Practice what you preach! Go! Empty your banks, disband comfort and safety, and make the world your home! Live in its forests, live by its streams, live off the land! Go visit, Blackscar! Help mankind! Make Thera a better place, be one of the seams that bind this world together, as one . . .” Ricard said.

Miss Blackbox suddenly found the floor interesting as she shuffled her feet.

“But you won’t, will you? You will remain here, and while you do, know that this is a society, a democracy. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we have. Now please, leave me be,” Ricard said, spinning his chair back around. There was an awkward thirty seconds of silence, and Ricard could feel Miss Blackbox’s eyes burning into the back of his neck.

“You are a rude, incompetent leader, and a savage!” Miss Blackbox yelled in the frustrated tone of a defeated child denied cookies.

“I thought I was being quite cordial,” Ricard said, not turning around.

“Think what you like! Our picketing will continue, and you will hear from me again soon enough! Until these walls come down, Richard, and all the swords, armors, and Elekai stones are melted down, we will let our voices ring, and we will shout the universal truth, that we don’t need walls, or a military. Peace, and love, is all you need!” Miss Blackbox said.

“Are you finished?” Ricard asked, turning around.

“Just getting started,” Miss Blackbox said.

“Good, then please do it out there, and shut the door behind you.” Ricard said, as he spun back around, opened a book, and pretended to read. He heard Miss Blackbox shuffle across the floor, then pause in the doorway.

“You cannot halt progress, Ricard! You cannot halt our mission! Peace will come! But only if you let it! You have no idea who you’re messing with! I’m the bitch that will not lament! I’m the bitch that will speak her mind no matter the consequences! I’m the bitch that takes pride in being a bitch! I’m the…” Miss Blackbox started. In a flash, Ricard was out of his seat and in her face, towering over her. He took in several deep breaths, and closed his eyes, refusing to allow this woman to make him lose his temper.

“Before I close this door, let me tell you something. My mother was the strongest and wisest woman I’ve ever known, much stronger and wiser than you’ll ever be, and my mother, was NEVER called, or referred to herself, as a bitch,” Ricard said, and with that, he slammed the door shut, harder than he would have liked, drowning out her reply. He was about to cross the room towards his chair when there was another knock at the door. This one was hard, and heavy, and the guest behind the knock did not even bother with manners. Instead, he barged right in.