Tale from a Throne

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When I spoke to him, there was more I wouldn't say than what I shared as we met after so long. I was certain he would defend and support my decisions, no matter my selected choices, but I did not wish for him to be confronted with such events taking place behind plain sight.

It is difficult to be a man of action when you do not want anyone to witness an uprising; much less the quashing of one. Questions abound when a person is in the midsts of such events. I wish I could say this battle; this approaching storm; shall be the final in this land. It can be no different than the way in which winter leaves and then returns. Such actions comparable to the rolling of a sea. Waters often calm, but different intervals dictate a tide to crash against the rocks.

Objectivity is not pure. It must skew in one direction or another. A war or coup never ends in the fashion of agreeing to disagree. It is an act of bloodshed in which both parties are correct - from their mutual perspectives.

It is more important for me to know my people are willing to fight for me, rather than lead them to take up arms. Does such make me a dictator? This was not the first time, but this is stemming more from seeds of hate than selfishness or pure discontent.

Before, things were more clear-cut. It was more destructive in nature; but property and vision more than spirit or soul. Did the fires of our siege char my objectivity? Did it destroy the kindness or compassion of my leadership? Did it shape me into the word of what it is: a ruler.

The land wasn't always plagued. Before we planted our collective flag into this territory, is was little more than a swamp which was bordered on one side by a large body of water. It had the advantage of hiding people who needed protecting. In its salad days, the people would have constant skirmishes with those who have been wrong or had authority on an opposing clan. Camping on the outskirts, then springing. Capturing a person was not an issue so much as capturing souls in any state. A death I was powerless to stand up to: no more than words could hold back a hurtling force of kinetic energy. I could say words such as please or why, but would be cleaved all the same and excused as no more than collateral damage. Interference with "official" business. All truth in the open, this would have happened to these people whether a marsh, open field, or the most densely-packed city. All I could do was watch. But in addition, I did wait.

Things got worse for the land. Not this swampy, sinkhole-laden diameter of geography in the physical sense but the climate. An energy emanating from somewhere elusive. At the time I did not know the reason, then a sudden shift occurred. Many of the men in this land chose to move on. Their old hierarchy fled with many others in a multitude of lands - seeking refuge from the hunt, joined by others confused in the wake of events.

Not all were people in pursuit of elsewhere. A great deal stayed, as I. With no present leadership and empty homes, many outlanders instinctively knew by some means. They came under cover of night at first; using mists from the ground to their benefit. By the edge of dawn, chaos broke wide open. Fire consumed the abandoned structures; sending streaks of orange rising to the sky against the still-dark sky. Eruptions from combustibles in storehouses literally shook the kingdom. When morning finally did arrive, damage done to the land echoed through us all.

Not just the kingdom suffered when dawn shed. The land externally matched what was felt within by all of us: those staying behind - apart from the exile of the hunted. The facades were gone. All left for us were sparse and broken buildings in this land which now so few lived. Smoke breached the horizon and climbed the sky, just as souls of the men who already left: reaching and dissipating into another realm, or the next plane; wherever it may be.

Waiting, I stood idly by throughout. I finally took my stand while the houses still still smoldered and flickered with patches of yellow and orange, such as a brain trying to use its electrical impulses to trigger recollection. Nostalgia. Back to an era of more grandeur. It was this moment I picked up the proverbial staff which was relinquished in haste; laying dormant for so long. A coup free of war, though I would not say bloodless or without war, as I assumed the role of leader. I was the one who wanted what no other sought. It seemed worthless, or even useless, to partake in such an endeavor as reclaiming or rebuilding. It was far from solace at the time; but after so much suffering and failure, there was nowhere to go but up.

I told the people it would not be superlative. Not better, or even larger, than before. However, building from the charred foundation meant it would be whatever we wanted it to become. Its future now for us to shape, rather than living in shadow's past.

Rallying alongside them; all of us toiled as one to rise amongst such gloom. Those who burned our land in the night thought done meant finished; leaving us alone to wither and decay. Assuming we would heed to such a message. The target preyed upon and now devoured - assuming nothing was left but bones. We remnants, feeling caught in the middle, decided to make a change. To step up and take our own lead: taking initiative rather than waiting for a nonexistent hierarchy to mandate or dictate. We rebuilt what had perished: not the same, but it was truly ours. The blood from those before us who fled or fell now washed away by the sweat of our collective labors. The present cleansing the sins and triumphs of the past. It was not easy; not immediately; but it eased the harder we struggled. Change occurred: almost so slowly it seemed to most of us as nothing transpired at all. We had been dwelling so longer from within, it took outsiders for us to truly realize this metamorphosis.

Later on, nomads and raiders came upon us, looking for an easy target - hearing rumors and tales of a broken land ripe for plucking. Those reports were far from accurate; as they learned firsthand. Underestimation became a weapon in our arsenal; as deadly as the greatest of fortification. Some of these returning wayfarers understood and accepted the change. The land rejoiced for those people, and those formerly wayward ones strengthened us all. A bond of acceptance and renewed spirit melded with our brotherhood.

Some from our former regime trickled back - trying to reclaim what they assumed to be entitled...only to reach a sad conclusion of time moving forward; leaving them lost in the past. They returned thinking we were one collective fowl: warming an egg loyally on hopes of these wayward people's unknown return. Some refusing to adhere to our new beginning moved on with regret or lament. Others tried digging in with their heels: refusing to admit mistake or wrongdoing. Treating a mirror as a window when looking to place blame. Words thrown and blades even crossed in more dramatic moments. But these were run off; a fate sealed by nothing more than stubbornness or an unwillingness. We held heavy hearts in doing so, but that was a decision jointly made long ago.

Leadership is about the whole. The greater good; not placating the few. All told and done, each invader or marauder crossing into our territory saw eventual defeat. There were long spaces dedicated to peace and contentment, but perhaps our land - or renewed ideals - seemed too tantalizing to pass up. A bountiful, or a happy [despite a gloomy geographical atmosphere] populace garners assumption by outsiders. Allegations the land is a ripened fruit; awaiting to be harvested and consumed. Foolish thoughts by foolish minds. It is an evil path of thought...but happens more often than one might assume. Even citizens on rare occasion. Forgetting mistakes of intruders, a group from within decided to stage a theft or coup of their own. Conspirators holding unreasonable viewpoints - differing from our society - feeling a separate and selfish outlook. And here I stand now: amidst another group's surge for power. Slow to grasp the chalice at first, but I now hold it in my hand relentlessly and restlessly.

As I see the clash before me, I realize the duality to it. Seeing those coming to my aid and defending values set forth makes me proud for what I helped build alongside them all. Yet at the same time, I am also saddened to admit things came to such a dramatic head to truly know the kingdom truly felt this is a land worthy of fighting for.

I sense this is the last day before a decision shall be made. Deciding a course of action for this battle which the opponent set forth to wage. I may lose the very land I helped make so desired. I cannot hold a grudge if this demise is true. It will be no fault but mine. I am above lamenting by proxy or placing blame on anyone besides myself. A leader stands in the front and must own any mistakes or misguided judgements - as well as wrongdoing. Many who lead do not hold these beliefs, but their subjects most times also do not refer to them as leaders.

This is an hour of uncertainty -- for myself and the kingdom I stand at the helm of after such a long period of hesitation. What I do know is how proud I am. Not just of this land's lore and potential legacy, but also of the people who helped build it again from the ashes: no matter who sits upon its highest chair. A feeling as this is something no person can force me to abdicate.

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