Tymarian Exodus

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Vilhelm Benkern
Posts: 3833
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2012 11:08 am

Tymarian Exodus

Post by Vilhelm Benkern »

A small number of residents in Tymaria City have moved from that city to the other islands of Norfolk. They are mostly of Aryashti ethnicity, and mostly consist of members of the educated governing classes. The Vidyāvyākhyānamaṇḍapa/Technological Institute has relocated to the old buildings of the Vidyāmaṭha/Temple of Wisdom in Traisoss/Satyapura, where they have established a close community in a northern part of the city's centre. The district of Bodhamandira (बोधमन्दिर)/Bloomsburg has become a refreshing cultural centre.
Vilhelm Benkern DEOMI, Member of the Order of the Dragon, Silver Swan, Red Dragon
Dirigent of Musica, Count of Mar Sara
In Aryasht Prapta Vrteti, former Prince of Aryasht; Zaila Vrteti, Norfolknath
In Elwynn Benjamin Sebasokrator Timothy Quentin Kern, Duke of Raikoth
In Khalypsil Representative of the Wisdom

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Vilhelm Benkern
Posts: 3833
Joined: Sun Apr 01, 2012 11:08 am

Chez Solitary

Post by Vilhelm Benkern »

What last we heard of Solitary:
Adimadeva (until recently, Andrew) Solitary flicked a leaf on his bush lily plant. He was a man of action, or of an impatient temperament a previous wife had suggested, and waiting was not his style. It did not fit his grade or dignity; it was not something he was used to, nor something he enjoyed. His city was a bottomless cesspool where there was always something to do, some civic duty to discharge, some whore to see to, some crime to solve, some administrative matter to bring to committee. He was sitting on a straw basket chair on the balcony attached to the study of his villa one mile and a half from Tymaria City limits. It was a wonderfully tranquil place, of searing heat and sparse vegetation, far away from the distractions and concerns of the city, and perhaps part of the calming effect it had on Solitary was that it was where he had deposited the hundreds of thousands of various units of currency illegally appropriated during his tenure as mayor. His retirement fund, he liked to joke, along with his payment protection insurance - a nuclear bunker for a basement, stocked to the rafters with weaponry, long-life food and, for good measure, Benacian gold. He sucked on his sixth hemp cigar of the morning - he only smoked when stressed, and only this particular plant when particularly anxious - while preparing to light it. He sucked and he pondered the damn letter, the whole damn situation.

One letter, mimeographed and passed around the relevant government department heads and the Mayor. One absent and conspicuously silent feudal superior. One equally anti-loquacious Head of State. One city. One man of great importance. One Condominion, torn between two States. One fleet of ships penetrating its territory; one gravity-defying ship posing one dutiful civil servant one peculiarly painful headache. Why during this, his fifth term? The fifth term was meant to be the peaceful term. Bad enough adapting to Aryashti language, custom, governance and idiotic politicians; now Norfolk was slowly coming under siege. Time for waiting had past, a large part of him said, the time for action was now. His Boys - technically composed of detachments of the Vice Unit of the Municipal Constabulary, some loyal personal bodyguards, and a renegade secret service unit that had fled when Antica to offer its mercenary internal security to the highest bidder - had been keeping track of the movements of the Prince, though he hadn't gone far yet, was acting like a real tourist. Damn the gods, damn the Prince, damn the so-called Norfolknath - blame it on the bureaucrats, thought Solitary, and I didn't want a sixth term anyway.

He put down the cigar, went inside and picked up a phone. 'Merle? Could you communicate to our little visiting party that I would like to meet them personally at the Mayoral Palace this afternoon? The usual arrangements for Tarney.' Tarney, the Mayor's precise body double, the third he had been forced to use and the least convincing, even after the surgery, spent more time in that grandiose inner city mansion than he did. 'Standard diplomatic chit-chat. Find out more about what they're doing here, though I don't expect much. Try to plant a bug on a guard or two, even the Prince if you can, and use the ones with the "Tè Gōng Lĭ" stamp.' Putting down the phone, the Mayor sat down at his desk and started on something productive: trying to sign his new name. Ā... आ. Di... दि. Ma... म. De... दे. Va... व. Not too hard. Will take more practice.
Adimadeva Solitary was ready to embrace his retirement. His extramunicipal villa was sparse now; a matter of days had seen his past and future shipped away in boxes to a little Arthasthani town he had bought through a series of secret trusts for the purpose of housing his natural decline. Death had a beauty of its own; Winter had a charm that verdant Spring couldn't begin to approach, he mused. If anyone had the last word in the eternal cycle of the seasons, it was the coldest one. And if the process of sliding into obscurity and happy oblivion can be qualitatively easied with vast riches, untold luxury and infinite concubinage, all the better. Uneasy lie the shoulders that bear the linen suit; politics had been amusing, exhilirating and lucrative, but they were behind him now. The change in regime - certainly towards a potentially more scrupulous, if not moral, tendency - meant dinosaurs of the corruption of this city at the centre of the world had to take their natural path, greet the descending meteor spelling doom with dignity. That said, damned if Solitary was going to have to compete on the other side.

Last night, a fire had ravaged the estate of Timothy 'Terrible Tim' Jessop, destroying the fine town house and all its inhabitants in the process. Herbert 'Docksider' Jackson's guards had found their charge with his throat slit in the morning. 'The Phedodan', aka Vincent Tremble, had been garrotted during morning prayers at the Antican Rites Institute. Mickey Trihus was shot four times by a waiter during lunch at Le Petty Alexandriene and had died two hours later. Peter 'Little' Filter was shot through the head with a 51mm hollow-point sniper rifle bullet while giving a speech in a square in west Tymaria City mid-afternoon. And as the sun set on this bloody day, it was down to Adimdeva to settle the last score. His Boys had done enough work, stirling work as ever. They would be joining him in the fine polity of Bristol, or Palisamaja, and the majority were engaged in guarding the convoy fleet containing his riches to that far-off place, from their greedy crews as much as from pirates and other nautical raiders. Four of these grisled warriors of Tymaria's darkest streets now waited at his limousine while he and Merle Obsidian saw to the final matter.

They descended into the deepest bowls of his bunker, floor by floor, ladder by ladder, step by step. It had cost a fortune to build but, such were the quirks of Sakat's clockwork, it would have to go. Each floor was stacked with a sufficient number of containers of a thermite-based compound to rend a small section of the hill in two. While originally this bunker had been originally commissioned by Solitary to serve as a hideaway in the event of a massive change in popular opinion, during happier times he permitted the use of its lower two levels by the Boys for torture chambers and prison cells. Merle was going first so he turned the handle on the sound-proof trapdoor, climbed down the final ladder into the human stench, and turned on the light switch. A sudden groan was followed by wretching as Solitary's python-skin loafers touched the chamber's floor. Merle placed a tape player on the metal desk at the centre of the room. Solitary pulled a seat from against the wall and sat down at the metal desk as Merle stood patiently by the figure emitting the sounds of mortality.

'Good evening, Karlue.' The man tied to the chair opposite Solitary twitched and shifted his body, but though his hands were bloody from striving to escape the handcuffs, they were not coming off. 'Have you been enjoying my hospitality? I understand my Boys have been keeping you entertained. Or was it you doing the entertaining?' The man half smiled before expelling blood from his mouth. 'Karlue, you know how much I appreciate any time that I manage to take from my busy schedule to spend with you, but I'm afraid this really is the end of the line. It's been fun, but I have a venture coming to fruition in another land and I just can't afford to take you with me. Do you know how long you've been a guest at Chez Solitary, Karlue? It's been five months, I'm told. I guess you don't miss the sunlight, having lost your eyes and all. But you knew what would happen when you did what you did. You took a moral decision, and I respect you for it, Karlue. An upstanding scumbag like you showing a shred of scruple? I was impressed. But you knew what would happen. Moral decisions have moral consequences. So for now, forever, farewell, adieu, khodafez.' He paused and looked at the sorry state of a person before him. 'One final gift for you, my good snitch. It was clever thinking to send your wife and child away before you tried to tell on me and my Boys. Unfortunately, there's no police force uncorruptable in this world, Karlue. So I sent Merle here to give them my kindest regards. Telsoun is a long way to travel, but I think he enjoyed his visit. Anyway, I bet you're wondering about the gift? Merle here recorded it. No video, I'm afraid, only audio, but you won't mind. We'll leave you alone with it now.' Adimadeva began his ascent up the first of the bunker's many ladders as Merle began the recording - a panicked female voice, saying, 'Hello?' Merle closed the trapdoor behind him and they continued on.

When they reached ground level, Solitary walked the rather long safe distance to the limousine while Merle prepared the fuse. It was lit, with five minutes delay for him to reach the vehicle. The six of them watched as his beautiful, grand villa - built with the finest Norfolk marble, designed by inspired architects from across Micras - exploded with the force of the sun. Tonnes of dynamite demolished each room as the thermite burrowed its way down into the depths of the earth. After a few moments, no trace was left of his oasis. They proceeded to the airstrip. When they were on the plane, Adimadeva shared a glass of sparkling wine with his oldest friend. 'So passes Karlue Alaiaon,' offered the retiree. 'Smart kid, good kid, crossed the wrong guy. No long-dead madman anti-Kaiser was going to come and save him.'

'He went the way all traitors do, boss. The grave.'
'But then, don't we all end up there?'
'Sure, but some have a better time of it than others.'

Solitary smiled. Some do have a better time of it than others. He raised his glass.

'Here's to a new life, to Bristol, to Palisamaja!'
Vilhelm Benkern DEOMI, Member of the Order of the Dragon, Silver Swan, Red Dragon
Dirigent of Musica, Count of Mar Sara
In Aryasht Prapta Vrteti, former Prince of Aryasht; Zaila Vrteti, Norfolknath
In Elwynn Benjamin Sebasokrator Timothy Quentin Kern, Duke of Raikoth
In Khalypsil Representative of the Wisdom

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