A Quiet Inn

It has been a week since the rule of Lord Mallock was explicitly extirpated. Garrick sat in a musty, near empty inn within the city. After the battle, crime and looting had run rampant so Commander Fulton had assigned Garrick and his men to remain in the city until a new ruler could be chosen. Garrick found it hard to remember the stately grace that the city had once commanded. The inn was ominously quiet since the local civilians suppressed their conversations while he was around. Garrick found it ironic that the locals were wary of him when they should be taking solace in the fact that he was the one keeping the peace within the destitute city. 

Servant No More

The servant ascertained that the end of his servitude was near. The supercilious treatment from the malevolent Lord Mallock was finally almost over. He and the other servants had made a plan to disperse and escape the city in the confusion of the battle. Mallock would have severely punished the servant if he caught wind of this plan but the servant knew that he was not omniscient and he would never discover his clandestine plans. The servant decided that, once out of the city, he would expunge his old identity of servant and reinvent himself as a humble farmer named Jacob. That moment was drawing very near as he could hear the Emperor’s legions outside, converging on the citadel. The servant thought it was uncanny how the Lord could think himself invulnerable even when all but him knew that the attainment of Commander Fulton’s victory was at hand. Soon, the servant would be a servant no more. 

Found Poem: Vermin Supreme

Vermin Supreme:

A friendly fascist,

A tyrant you should trust,

You should let him run your life,

He does know what is best for you.

A politician:

He will promise you anything your heart desires

Because you are his constituents,

Because you are the voting public,

And because he has no intention of keeping any promise that he makes.

Vermin Supreme stands by his pledge:

To provide a pony for every American

Because it will create jobs,

Because it will reduce our dependence on foreign oil,

And because it will be a federal pony identification program.

Vermin Supreme wants you to remember:

Vote early,

Vote often,

And a vote for Vermin Supreme,

Is a vote completely thrown away.

Musings of Battles Yore

Today was the day. Garrick strode confidently toward his squadron, who were waiting to be deployed. He mused of battles of old; friends and allies with whom he had fought side by side in battles long since passed.  He wondered what punitive measures the Emperor had planned for Lord Mallock once he has been captured. Their craven adversary had barricaded himself and his subjects within the city walls in futile hopes of perpetuating his illegitimate independent rule. Mallock’s demise was certain and Garrick knew that the Emperor would delete his brief reign from the history books. Garrick reached his men and began forming them up into organized ranks. The soldiers were exhilarated having come directly from Commander Fulton’s inspiring pre-battle address to the entire army. They seemed determined to set a precedent on how quickly and efficiently a city could be captured. Garrick’s troops were convinced that the city’s defenses would be negligible compared to the might of the entire Empire. Garrick knew his men were right.

The Servant

The servant scrutinized the silverware he was polishing in preparation for the feast later that night. He grimaced as he meticulously wiped a spot he had missed. The thought of Lord Mallock throwing a banquet on the eve of what was sure to be the holocaust of the city disgusted the servant. He and the other servants shared in nostalgia for the benevolent rule of Mallock’s father and the peace the city had once enjoyed. Now he and the rest of the city were under the rule of Lord Mallock; the quintessence of a belligerent tyrant. There were always whisperings that Mallock had gained control of the city through duplicity which is entirely feasible when you consider how much the minor nobles of the town fear him. These being the same nobles who had once been adverse to the spoiled boy being next in line to rule the city. Now they extol him to no end in hopes of winning his favor. The servant found it hard to concentrate on his polishing with the knowledge that the entire city was in jeopardy.

Garrick

Garrick trudged through the dark camp, eager to rest for the events of the following day. The faces of his comrades, dimly lit by small cook fires and torches, projected an overall dour mood throughout the camp. As he worked his way through the lines of tents, Garrick reiterated the orders his commander, a young, ambitious man named Fulton, had given him until he could repeat them verbatim. He knew that forgetting some small nuance of the deployment could be the difference between life and death for himself and the men of his squadron. During the counsel of the previous hour, Fulton had briefed Garrick and the other lesser commanders of the basic layout of the city and the detailed plans of the siege. Fulton explained that the lord of the city they were about to attack was little more than a spoiled boy who had grown up in the opulence of his noble status. The boy in question had recently inherited rule of the city after the death of his father. The new power he held had adulterated his pliable character to the point of making him arrogant enough to rebel against the Empire. This was a poor choice. Garrick admired the fortitude that Fulton displayed during the counsel, and he saw no intimation that this was simply a guise to gain the confidence of the other commanders present. This was Fulton’s first assignment of real importance and Garrick knew that his stolid command style would bring him the first of many victories in the following day.