William
I hear the rumble of thunder overhead, and there’s already a light drizzle falling onto the crowd watching the proceedings. Even though the day started bright, it seems like the Heavens themselves are crying over what’s happening to St. Carlta.
“Let me through,” I continue to say as I elbow people out of the way, steadily marching toward the stage. Richard has just finished his impromptu speech, and I can already see the suited bastards tying the noose around his neck. “Let me through!” I shout harsher now, flashing a couple of guys the butt the gun I got tucked on my waist. They step out of the way as fast as they can, and I race toward the stage steps.
There’s not a second be wasted, and so I just duck under the barriers the security staff has raised between the crowd and the stage, and I head up onto the stage. Security starts running after me, but the moment I feel the creak of the stage boards under my feet, I just take my gun out and brandish it.
“Back the fuck off,” I tell the security guys, carefully walking toward Gladrell. Everyone on the stage with a gun has just pointed it at me, but I couldn’t care less. Whatever happens, happens. And, besides, this is nothing new for me — I can’t even count the number of time I stared down the barrel of a gun. It usually makes for a shorter life, but at least it also makes for an interesting one.
“Hey, everyone!” I say into the microphone, pushing Gladrell out of the way. He stumbles to the side, but someone manages to regain his footing and stops himself from falling face down onto the floor. “What a lovely day, uh? I bet every family in St. Carlta woke up anxious to know public executions are a thing again. Or maybe not,” I continue, pausing to collect my thoughts.
Keeping Gladrell’s bodyguards in my line of sight, I grab the microphone with one hand and continue. “The man you see here, that’s not the kind of man you want to be part of government.” I point straight at Gladrell with my gun, and if he hasn’t pissed himself yet, it sure looks like it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growls, taking a step toward me, but I just cock one eyebrow and point the gun at him once more. That stops him really fast. Gladrell has never been the kind of man you’d be able to call courageous — always happy to hide inside his palaces and hunt foxes while guarded by a small army, he’s exactly the kind of asshole that gives a bad name to nobility. I bet he hands out fake bills to the homeless as well.
“I’m telling the people what they need to know,” I tell him straight to his face, my lips curling into a smile. This feels good — even better than I anticipated. “You see, friends, Prince Gladrell has played the whole country. Do you think Moira just nationalized companies left and right just because? In case you didn’t know, the Prince here is a major investor in a tiberium exporting company. And guess what was the first thing the Queen nationalized?” I wait for a few seconds, allowing my words to hang over the crowd, and only then do I offer a reply. “That’s right — check any newspaper and you’ll see that the tiberium mines were the first thing on the so-called-Queen’s todo-list. Oh, and by the way, do you know who she put in charge of operations there?”
I see a few mouths hanging open in the crowd, and that just makes me grin even more. Yeah, people are catching on. Let’s see how the Prince likes some heat.
“The Queen’s new minister, Prince Gladrell himself, has wasted no time. He’s been lining his pockets ever since Moira placed the crown on her head,” I tell everyone, and that’s when Gladrell loses it.
He simply hurries down to the edge of the stage, the palm of his hands in front of him as if he were about to try and stop an oncoming train. “Those are all lies!” He tries to shout at the crowd, but the way his hair is plastered to his forehead, a consequence of all his nervous sweat, really isn’t making him look like someone truthful. Oh, what a shame.
Yeah, of course I’m enjoying this — who wouldn’t enjoy making an asshole like Gladrell sweat like this? After everything he did to Snow, I’m pretty glad I’m the one hammering him with the truth. Nothing beats watching it happen up-close.
“ARREST HIM!” He tries and wave at his bodyguards and the police officers lining the stage, but they all hesitate as they look at the gun in my hands. Still, they keep their guns raised and pointed at me.
“Lower your guns,” I try to tell them. “I’m not your enemy — Gladrell is. Haven’t you seen the way money has been syphoned out every single one of your departments? Why do you think that is? Gladrell and Moira and sucking this whole country dry. You swore to uphold the law, haven’t you?” This time, I watch something like hesitation flash in their eyes. “If I were you, I’d start with arresting one of the men responsible for plunging the country into chaos.”
Slowly, they lower their guns and start looking toward Gladrell. I can almost hear the gears inside their heads turning, but their feet remain glued to the floor. Below us, the nervous chatter of the crowd is steadily rising into a crescendo.
“Lies, lies, and more lies!” Gladrell insists, and he actually seems to be on the verge of tears. For someone as corrupt as he is, I’m actually surprised he can’t handle the heat. “WHERE’S THE PROOF?” He shouts as loud as he can, his eyes bulging. “YOU HAVE NONE.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, asshole,” I whisper at him, grinning as I wave my hand toward the stage steps. At the bottom, a figure with her hood pulled up takes one step forward. Looking up, she pulls down the hood and smiles.
“Here’s your proof,” I tell Gladrell, and that’s when Princess Snow Avondale walks up on the stage.