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11
Manik
“We owe you a thousand apologies, sire.”
There is a literal line of officials, nobles, landowners, and courtiers, each of whom is eager to apologize and once more pledge his or her loyalty. I know their loyalty means nothing. But I also know that I have loyalty where it counts, in my bedroom and in my heart. With Lyssa by my side, I can do what needs to be done without fear of loss. She is all I need, and everything else is set dressing.
Enchante has ruined this land. She has turned the castle into a gaudy and debauched den of stolen riches. Every decision she has made since my exile has been to take more from the people. A once proud citizenry now stands in the ruins of their lives and looks to me for justice.
I will give it to them.
“You could all apologize forever and it would mean less than nothing,” I say. “And you know that, so let’s all save our collective breath and time. You know what it is to be ruled over by a power-hungry monster who wastes your resources and taxes you heavily and runs the land to ruin. This is my decree. Ninety percent of the riches will be returned to the people, effective immediately. This applies to the palace coffers and your own personal funds. Pay the farmers, free your slaves, and give up your riches, or I will kill each and every one of you.”
They know better than to splutter and argue, though I can see that they want to do both very badly. I know this decree will hurt them. That is the point. They deserve to be punished. They deserve to know what it is to lose everything.
“Before you leave, the court clerks will oversee the wealth transfer,” I tell them. “Anybody who refuses to sign can join Enchante on her ice planet.”
I sent her to the same place I suffered. Lyssa calls that poetic justice. I call it a lack of imagination. I know I should have killed the woman, but the planet will likely do that for me, and it is better that she suffers first, struggling to survive a harsh world with nobody to exploit but herself.
The damage Enchante has done in a matter of years will take decades to repair. It is an unfortunate law of the universe that the works of a single evil soul take the efforts of hundreds of good spirits.
Lyssa
“We did it!”
I am very pleased with myself, and Manik. Very, very pleased. There was a time I didn’t think I’d ever achieve anything. I thought I’d metaphorically sit in the remains of a cancelled wedding for the rest of my life. But now I’ve achieved something frankly insane. I helped an exiled king regain his confidence and reclaim his throne. I am the lady with the burned bread — though I’m not sure if she was a motivating factor for King Arthur, but I like to think she was, and that I am.
“Yes,” he agrees, pulling me into a royal embrace. “We did.”
“And now you’re king. And that’s a happily ever after.”
“Well,” he says. “I have to rebuild my world, put down rebellions, ensure Enchante does not return, tend the poor, feed the hungry…”
“I know. But look how happy everybody is that you’re back!”
“They are fickle and spineless. I will have to remove most of them from their positions and send them to far off enclaves, while replacing them with others who have demonstrated their loyalty more completely.”
I guess I knew this wasn’t going to be as easy as I made it out to be. Even Marjorie had to deal with Stan’s fetish for surprise anal and refusing to put his dirty socks in the hamper. Every victory in life seems to be another opportunity for defeat to once again rear one of its heads.
“You’re not happy,” I say, crestfallen.
“I am where I should be,” he says, sounding more resigned than triumphant.
This is a downer. We won. At least, according to every narrative construct I’m aware of, we won. The villain has been cast out, wrongs are being righted, and the king has his throne. This should be a fucking fairytale ending of absolute perfection. But seeing Manik this way makes me feel sort of hollow.
What if I was wrong to convince him to come back here? Maybe being king isn’t really all it is cracked up to be. Maybe I’ve condemned him back to a life he was actually quite happy to escape. He was different in the ice cave. He was cheerful and humorous. Now he’s just a king. A king with no time for a human pet, probably.
“I guess you don’t need me anymore,” I mumble, just as one of the courtiers comes in, singing Manik’s praises in the hopes Manik won’t summarily kill him.
Manik doesn’t hear me. I slip away. He’s busy. And I suppose I have some thinking to do. On the ice planet, I was his captive and the sole focus of all his impressive attention. On his world I am going to be one of many problems.
I wonder if now isn’t a good time to slip away. This is a massive city. I could easily lose myself in it. But I don’t think this is the world for me. I think this is Manik’s realm, and now that he has what he needs, it’s time for me to go on my way.
I go for a walk, first wandering the palace, and then out onto the many walkways of the city. From the first moment I expose myself to the world outside the palace, I can tell that chaos has ensued. There are crowds in the streets, shouting and waving things. I cannot tell if they are happy or sad. Probably both. In my experience in human realms, populations are usually split fifty-fifty on almost every issue of importance. It’s almost as if the issues themselves aren’t what matter, but a primal need to form tribes and go to war. I hope that isn’t what is going to happen here, though I know Manik could put down any rebellion single-handed.
They don’t know me, of course, but to some of these people I am a liberator. To others, I have returned a tyrant king who has stolen everything they own. I thought I was making a difference, but now I’m wondering if all I have made is a mess.
“What the HELL are you doing?”
