In the year 37 BS, almost a continent away from Felix Barson's hometown of Redton, he found himself on another adventure.

No, that's not right. I'm not writing a book, this is a journal. A journal meant to be read, but still.

This was written to...

Too meta.

Dear diary, today I'm going to...

A knock shatters my concentration. Probably for the best, this is driving me insane. "Enter."

A familiar figure clad in leather comes into the room, followed by the man I was waiting for.

Felix Anders.

"Hey, Felix."

"Felix!"

"Hey, guys!" I rise from my chair to greet them, then meet Felix A. in our signature greeting, a minute-long "handshake". Once it's done, I give a short laugh. "Don't let my soldiers know we did that. In fact, consider every interaction we have in this room to be double-secret. Can't have the 'face of the Empire' smeared by something as simple as some friendly interactions."

"Wow, you weren't kidding when you told us how much scrutiny you're under, were you?"

"Not at all, A. Being the golden goose of the emperor and his court has its perks, but it removes almost any semblance of fun outside of short, private interactions such as this."

"Someday you have to tell me what balls you had to suck to get where you are, so I can avoid them like the plague." Artur jokes.

"Haha, yeah, someday..."

"So what's the deal, then?" Felix asks. "I don't know many group healing spells, so I'll mostly only be of use to you and maybe your top men."

"Oh, don't worry about that." I say. "You and I will mostly be away from everyone else, so it's just me and Artur you'll have to worry about."

"Really? I didn't take that pretty mug as one to stand in the back where it can't shine."

"Whomever said anything about the back?"

"Ahh, that's more like it! Now that, I can deal with." Felix smiles brightly.

"Just like old times, eh?" Artur chimes in. "Back before the Sarah incident. How is she, anyways?"

I fiddle a bit with my ring. "She's lovely, as always. Sad she won't be seeing me, but she's a strong one."

"Oh, don't you worry." Felix reassures me. "We'll be right by your side, nothing to worry about."

"I'm counting on it."

My first friend's face fell faintly feeble. "I really wish there was some other way around all this. I don't want to fight for or against the revolution, but I suppose something has to be done with how things are going. I'm glad to help a friend in need in all this, though, and I wish I could help more, but healing and shielding normally only go so far when dealing with political matters."

"Trust me, for this matter, your help will be more than enough."

"Now I know I said 'nothing to worry about', but don't go getting cocky!"

"Oh, that's no issue at all. You know better than anyone that lesson's been beaten into me longer than I can remember."

Felix and Artur both laugh heartily at this comment. It's been so long since we've chatted like this, yet our shared memories bond us closer than my right hand man and I. "I'm really glad you two will be on the field with me today. As I said, I'm not dragging you into anything, it's for one battle only. I'm particularly worried about Jeff showing up, as rumors say he will. With that sword and his skill, I feel I'll be taxing your magic to its limits, A."

"I don't know about that, Toara's been smiling on me more and more with each passing week," the cleric's face falls, "despite circumstances."

Artur is quick to console him, "You know only one or two of them were your fault, we talked about this."

"Yeah, yeah... we can talk more about it later, though. For now, let's prepare for the battle ahead of us."

Artur suddenly gets an excited, sly look. "So B, got anything fancy in your bottom drawer to help us 'prepare', or do rosy cheeks ruin photo ops?"

"Oh, they normally do." I turn and round my desk, bending down to open the drawer. He knows me so well. "But as we aren't taking photos today..." I beam at them while raising my prize.

"Holy shit... wait, that doesn't say vintage 30 BS, that's FI!" Artur's jaw almost drops to the floor on exclaiming this. Felix looks like he's going to pass out from excitement.

"Indeed it does, my friend. Indeed it does."

A week later, we find ourselves a few miles out of town, at the field known as Merchant's crossing. Normally, this area is filled with hundreds of people buying and selling exotic goods as merchants travel to, from, and through the capital. With such limited space in the market, high waiting times for a spot to empty, and steep prices to so much as set up a cart, it only makes sense merchants would find a temporary place to set up away from all that hassle.

Sometimes, when the weather is nice and people are willing to make the trek, a merchant will set up here temporarily as they wait for their spot to open, and they'll leave early having sold and traded all their stock. Today would have been one of those days.

Today, though, the place is deserted, the only trading going on between soldiers as they exchange rations for trinkets or other rations. The reason for which is scheduled to come over that ridge tomorrow, which in military strategy-speak means today. The revolution.

To be quite honest, I find myself more in agreement with them than those for whom I'm a figurehead. The Empire keeps the lesser folk in the dirt, paying them nothing, taking their land and anything off their backs, all so they can live posh lifestyles. Just the fact that, in my own thoughts, I called them "lesser folk" disgusts me. The impoverished are only lesser in that they don't have money. Many nobles would disagree, but I've specifically gone into poor villages and given random people money, titles, and land, and I can speak for a fact that the common man is just as good with those things as any noble. Not that that's saying much in their favor, considering some nobles nowadays.

The point is, were many people in my shoes, they would say they hate their position. But I feel it gives me an advantage on both fronts. I am the figurehead of the Empire, the face of the Emperor, the hands he works with, the feet he stands on. By no means am I able to speak for him, his mouth and heart belong to his right-hand man, but in terms of who the people see? When I move, people notice.

At least, that's what I'm counting on...

At the moment we're playing cards, the three of us, waiting for the revolution to come. I play a queen of diamonds, and the others throw their cards on the table and their hands in the air. Felix slams his arms on the table, his face downcast, then looks up at me with a sly grin. My own smile fades as I notice the cards he had thrown on the pile, specifically the top one: the Ace of Spades.

"Damn it, you beat me again! What is that, 56-nil?"

"Come now, I'm sure you've won somewhere in there."

"No, I think we'd have remembered something so prophetic." Artur says.

"Prophetic?"

"You know, like pigs flying, or hell freezing over."

I smack him on the arm, then stick a thumb in his direction. "He's not wrong, though."

Felix giggles for a second, then sighs. "So they're coming today. What's the plan?"

I look at him, flabbergasted. "How in the hell did I let you get all the way to now without explaining the plan?!"

"Well, I mean, there was the drinking the day we got here, then you were in meetings for a few days and we only got to eat dinner together for a few minutes each day, then the Emperor's envoy showed up..."

"Point taken. I lead a busy lifestyle."

"So the plan?"

"Right. So. The plan is... basically, to surrender."

"Uh, what? I did hear you right, didn't I?"

"Well, we won't be throwing our arms down and our... arms, up? I really should have thought through that sentence before continuing it. We won't be disarming then waving the white flag, how about that?"

"Okay." He said, giving me a sideways look. "So... surrender?"

"Right. So the plan is to be a pretty face for the emperor, whom I'm the figurehead for, then let the, quote unquote, 'lesser folk' beat that face up. Then we shout at them to stop, beg forgiveness, and we give up with minimal losses on either side. It's entirely a play to show that the Emperor has less power than he thought."

"Hmm, interesting play. And you wanted us there for the 'let them beat us up' part of the plan?"

"Yep, I intend to take a lot of damage today, and you're the best individual-healer in the continent."

"Surely you jest."

"Surely I do not. Nobody else has such devotion to Toara, to her tenets of peace, and thus none are so blessed as you. Artur told me of the games you play with her blessings sometimes, the sort of thing Toara loves, yet almost none of her priests and priestesses do due to the spirit of religiousness shoving a stick up their asses. You don't even realize the gift you have, and the gift is all the more powerful for it."

"I mean, I was joking, but now that you've put it so plainly." He pauses for a second, then his face shifts into that of one deep in thought. We decide to leave him to those thoughts for a bit.

"So what about me? Any special reason the great rogue Artur Deadhands gets to be on the front lines?"

"You keep Felix safe, sane, and out of trouble." I state that as the sole explanation for his presence.

"Fair enough." He shrugs and takes another sip of whiskey. I had brought the bottle from my office, because this may be our last chance to enjoy it together. Somehow, I know, everything will be changing in the next 24 hours. Whether I end up dead, imprisoned, or with the responsibility of running the country, I can tell, almost clearly see, this is my last day of freedom.

We sit there for a bit longer, Felix not moving from his position, still deep in thought. From my perspective, it seemed like we were simply enjoying each other's company, but on closer inspection it looks like they're both having different, probably unrelated thoughts. I leave them to it, moving to my desk to examine reports. Not long after, a knock strikes the door.

"They're here."

We stand at the head of the Imperial Army, looking out at the forces lining themselves against us. Funny, he's nowhere to be seen. Must be saving him for the dramatic reveal.

They're playing music and reveling, clearly enjoying themselves, despite being armed to the teeth and obviously ready and waiting to put their weapon sharpening skills to the test. It's a surreal sight to see, and if I were a traditional captain I'd call them fools.

This is the heart of the revolution. The common man coming against the powers that be. As much as we'll be putting on a show, this is theirs, showing that they're just regular folk, forced into battle by circumstance, not willing to give up who they are. The concept is somewhat weak and convoluted, but also somewhat inspiring at the same time.

At some point, we hear clapping, slowly at first, but growing louder and faster. As the clapping raises to its climax, a bare-chested man moves to the front, a bubble forming in the crowd while he walks. Eventually, he reaches the front, and when he raises his axe, the crowd bursts into frantic applause.

Jeff the Intolerable.

Some men on my side start jokingly clapping with the lead-up, others stopping them with a "shush", but laughing to themselves all the same. I never shut down shows of humor and joviality unless the situation is extremely serious, the better for my men to enjoy themselves and be mentally ready for battle, while also giving them an indication of my read on any given situation. When I say shut up, you shut the fuck up and get serious.

There's nothing serious about this man dressed like a frilly barbarian, shouting things about society and opression anyone with a brain would already know. He's inspiring though, and I find my men nodding along with the other side. I pretend not to notice, hoping the other side sees this, the better for tonight's show to have some credibility. My men are innocent in what's about to happen.

He was weaker than I thought he'd be, for being the hero of the common folk. Could this have been a battle of figurehead against figurehead? It's entirely possible the real force is hiding in the back, getting ready for the real final battle. They're sure to be disappointed, if that's what they're looking for in the castle. I always made sure to keep the best of the elite close by my side.

The revolters stop slowly, as news spreads through the ranks. My men allow them. All eyes fall on me.

I've always wondered what would happen if you didn't have anything epic or inspirational to say if you found yourself in this situation. My answer comes in the form of a shout, "They killed Jeff! Make them pay!" Very anticlimactic.

A war cry rises from their ranks, and the battle begins anew. Within seconds, four burly men are slashing and stabbing at me. I make a show of parrying, dodging, taking some hits, and helping Artur defend A., taking even more hits in doing so. Surrender can't be quick, they have to feel they've earned it, so I fight them back another two minutes, even as another joins their ranks. Ironically this hinders them more than helps, due to their lack of skilled training and coordination.

"You win," I say, "I concede! Stop, and my men will follow me in surrender."

"You bastard, you dare to cut down our beloved Jeff, then ask for mercy?" One of them retorts, "We'll have your head, and those of all who follow you!"

"Stop, I say! This need not continue! My men have no hand in any of this!"

"Any who follow the emperor's man in battle deserve to perish!" Another shouts.

"You fools! I don't want to kill you, and my men are innocent!"

"You'll all die!"

It only takes twenty seconds for them all to be laying on the ground like they were dead. Only one isn't faking it, which is a passing score in my book. I usually accidentally kill more than that, but as weak as they are, they're tougher than they look. "I said I didn't want to kill you, but you go after my men, and I won't hesitate to show you how few limbs you can live with." I say unnecessarily to their unconscious forms.

Looking around, the battle rages with fervor much greater than when Jeff the Intolerable was alive. This needs to stop, but with the death of their leader, none will listen to reason. I should have anticipated this in planning, and every death that happens from this point is my fault for naively ignoring the obvious: people get stupid when they're angry.

There's no other choice. Nobody else on our side is close enough, and it can't be one of theirs who kills me, or they'll slaughter my men too, fueled by their success. It has to be betrayal for them to see my men have no part in this.

I touch my earring and think, He's doing this on my orders. The men are to stand down and ignore all further orders coming from me. Long live the revolution.

The response comes a moment later, dejected. Long live the revolution.

"Artur." I imbue the words with great magical power. "Restrain me, and look angry about it. Ignore my next order. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! UNHAND ME!" He complies. He has no choice but to comply.

The Command spell is a powerful thing.

Felix has tears in his eyes. "No. No no no no no! No!" His face is wild, fearful. I get the feeling he knows what needs to be done. "No, no, no, not agai-!"

"Felix." I command. "Pull out your dagger and come here with rage on your face." The peasants have stopped, seeing the position I'm in. Perfect.

My childhood friend continues to cry as he draws his weapon and approaches me. "I would never ask you to do this, you BASTARDS," I shout, to continue the facade, "because I know you would never comply. Un-HAND me, ATTACK THOSE PEASANTS!" I move quickly between shouts and angry-sounding whispers. "YOu know you're my best friends. I suppose that's why it had to be you in the end. I'll have YOU BOTH COURT MARSHALLED! But in truth, it's just because you're the closest two on our side. I'm sorry. And you BETTER BELIEVE IT! AARGH! MEN, GET THESE TWO OFF ME!" The men don't comply, of course, having been ordered not to. They simply stare on in sorrow, which is sure to be construed as shame by the enemy. Shame for having served under such a murderous brute as myself. Perfect.

I'll miss you all, so much.

"Stab me in the mouth when I begin to shout again, scream at the top of your lungs, "we've had enough of your tyranny, long live the revolution", then stab me until I'm dead."

I'm so glad I commanded him to look angry. I couldn't bear it if I saw his true emotions under that mask. "It will all be alright, it must be this way. There's so much I wanted to say in these last moments, but to take time to say more would be suspicious. I'll miss you both. I love you both so much. SO THEN GET OFF ME SO," I speak slowly and loudly. He hasn't done it yet, he's resisting much longer than the spell usually allows. A testament to how little he wants to do this, "I CAN BURN THEIRAGGhhh."

"WE'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR TYRANNY, YOU AND YOUR EMPEROR." Holy shit he's powerful, if he can add improvisation to a Command. I underestimated him, even when overestimating. "WE LIVE IN TRENCHES WHILE YOU SIP FANCY WHISKEY IN PENTHOUSES, WE SUFFER FOR YOU TO STAY SAFE!" Alright, now he's just drawing it out and showing off... "NOW IT'S TIME FOR YOU AND YOUR PRECIOUS EMPEROR TO TASTE THE SUFFERING YOU MADE US GO THROUGH WHILE FIGHTING AND DYING IN YOUR NAME FOR A PITTANCE!

"LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!"

Dear diary,

Today I'm going to kill the leader of the revolution to show the people how strong they can be without him. He'd be a terrible ruler of the country anyways, as great as he is at rallying people to a cause.

Afterwards, the capital is all theirs. My men have been ordered to join them once this has been completed.

If all goes well, this letter will wait, no, this diary, wink wink, will never be read by another, and I can burn it in peace. On the very slight off-chance that provoking a hundred thousand of the common folk doesn't go as planned, the next most hopeful scenario is that one of the revolters will find this and read it at my funeral, so people will know why I did what I did.

In the worst-case scenario, let this journal entry be my declaration of war against the emperor. Even in death I will fight and haunt you! Whooo ooo ooo. It was nice being your figurehead, but show a little respect for your fellow human, eh? Then again, simply reading this will probably throw you into a fit of rage, so to the person who just picked this up and read it to see what got him all fired up, hi!

And in the scenario even worse than the worst case? In that case, hi A., I was hoping you would never have to read this.

My ring is attached. You know where she lives. Tell her the revolution was successful. She'll understand. After all, isn't that part of being the wife of a soldier, knowing he may not come back? Anyways, show her some of your signature care, for me, when she breaks into tears. Also, don't tell her I said any of that unless you wish to join me. She's not one to spare the messenger, hahaha.

Your author of this totally legitimate and not basically a suicide letter journal entry,

Felix Barson