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36
Punctuating his speech, the man punches his fist multiple times into his palm.
The meaning is clear.
Rory’s cool facade collapses entirely. He seems thoroughly annoyed. “So assault’s okay if it’s someone you don’t agree with? Am I understanding this correctly?”
A woman tilts her head to the side. “Why do you stick up for them? The people who don’t support King James are literal Nazis.”
Rory nods slowly. “So everyone you don’t like is a member of the German National Socialist Party. I see.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t like this tone you’ve been taking,” the man suddenly snaps. “It sounds somewhat mocking to my ears. I’m not even sure youareRory Munro.”
“Oh, I am. Unfortunately, I am.” And for the first time, he glances wearily in my direction.
The woman from earlier leans forward. “You know at the protest today, there were actuallymorecounter-protesters than usual. It’s alarming. They’re becoming emboldened, spreading their poison against King James. They need to be taught a crucial lesson.”
Rory sinks deeper into the sofa, as though in despair, staring up at the colored lights pulsing, the overlapping circles flashing across the ceiling. He blows out a large smoke ring, as if trying to aim for one of these circles, his body growing lethargic as he leans into the cushions.
“The totalitarian left or the fascist right,” he murmurs, deep in thought and almost to himself. The smoke ring evaporates before it touches the darkness of the ceiling. “Hard to imagine why anyone would be a centrist these days.”
One of the women, who looks younger than the rest, laughs. “It’s not that deep, lol.”
Beside me, Finlay jerks his head as though having just woken up. “Did she just say…lol? Oot loud?”
“I think we know where they spend the majority of their time.” I’m starting to appreciate Lochkelvin’s anti-tech stance, directed even as it seems to have been by Oscar Munro and his penchant for all things traditional. It may mean we’re out of the loop when it comes to Benji’s latest power-grab but on the other hand it stops us from usinglolas an actual word in conversation.
“Our generation isfucked,” the woman says, “so why not put our faith in Jamie? Someone our age? Someone we can relate to? It’s not like we have any better options.”
“KingJames,” the man beside her pompously corrects.
Rory stares at him dully. “I don’t get you Antiro folk,” he mutters, and this time it’s all him, the facade now gone. “You say you don’t want royals, so you get rid of them, and then you cheer when one of your own declares himself king.”
The man looks taken aback, utterly shocked and betrayed. “What, are you saying you’re a royalist?”
“I’m sayingyouare, you weirdos.”
“But that’s just not true,” the man scoffs. “Royalists are bad people. You don’t want to be a bad person, do you? On the wrong side of history? Because the things you’ve been saying about King James — why, I don’t believe you’re an ally at all! You’ve been parroting propaganda fromtheirside all evening.”
In a low voice, Rory asks, “How can something be propaganda if it’s true?”
The younger woman peers at Rory, her expression much frostier. “Areyou a royalist?”
Rory looks at her sympathetically, as though giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Nowadays, that means different things to diffe—”
“Yeah, but are you a royalist?”
“You can’t just—”
“Yes or no: are you a royalist?”
In a waspish tone, he snarks, “I’m as much of a royalist as you are a bellend,” which leaves the woman sitting puzzled as she mulls over Rory’s final words. He stands abruptly, leaving the sofa and stepping between the ring of students around him.
With a frown, the woman murmurs to herself, “Well, I’mnota bellend…”
As Rory squeezes through the crowd toward us, he finally releases a long, weary sigh that I feel he must have been holding the whole evening. His face loosens, his eyes becoming less guarded and calculated. He looks at me like a man exposed and exhausted, as though I’m his sole sanctuary and the sanctuary for his soul, the only person who may just be able to recharge his waning energy.
“It’s like communicating with a brick wall. I’ve used logic and I’ve used reason,” Rory mutters, his face grim. “I’ve used charm, I’ve used my family connections, I’ve used witty cutting remarks, I’ve even tried to use mylooksto get what I want — and nothing.Nothing. These people are a lost cause. They believe the worst of Luke and the best of Benji, and both are complete lies. They don’t engage with any arguments and accuse me of being a royalist, without noticing their hypocrisy. This is a waste of time. I thought I could maybe make them see reason, one of them at least, but this shit runs deep. Benji’s supporters… it’s a cult we’re dealing with, and they’re all high on their own self-importance. Fuck them.”
