Piso was soundly asleep in his quarters. Looking at his aging frame, one might even be led to think that he is practically dead. As darkness filled the room, the fading New Year celebration in the capital can still be heard.

But then, a sudden charge came from Piso’s closet, leading to sounds of metals clanging against each other. At almost the same time, the clouds cleared, allowing the moon to shed light on the room. It was not just metals. Piso and his attacker were wielding swords, but before the latter’s face can be struck by moonlight, the attacker immediately jumped away from the dictator.

Piso rose, his head lying low and his feet planted on his bed, before saying, “When an assassin kills his target, he’d at least kick his pillow first to wake the target up.”

The attacker remained silent, and then checked the grip. When the clouds shrouded the moon once more, the attacker vanished from sight. Piso did not move his head, not even a finger.

Mere seconds felt like hours for both combatants, and sweat formed in their heads despite the cold climate. Suddenly, another clashing of swords can be heard.

This time, the attacker’s blade is a few centimeters away from Piso’s neck.

“What’s the problem?”, Piso asked, “Can’t overpower an old chap like me?!”

As their weapons remained locked against each other, one of Piso’s attendants barged in and lunged against the attacker with his knife. However, even before the attendant’s weapon can deal any damage, he was already taken out by the attacker’s quick chop behind the head.

Just then, the attacker felt the breeze gently touching the face when he heard Piso sheath his sword. The unexpected distraction caused by the attendant was long enough for the dictator to disarm the attacker and remove his mask within a fluid sequence of motions.

As the attacker sheathed his sword and dragged the attendant out of the room, Piso laughed, “Do you seriously think I won’t recognize our magistrate’s sword? What’s with the silly mask?”

It is a white mask with intricate designs of differing colors, having holes for the eyes, the ears, and the nose. Otherwise, it almost covers the entire head. Meanwhile, the attacker’s weapon is a longsword of a single blade, and a decorated handle of distinct Dalreidan style. It is known as Vaino, the Standard of War.

“Hey, that’s imported,” the attacker said, “But really, it wasn’t as if you aged since Kandara!”

“Oh, speak for yourself! I’ve got memories with that forget-me-chop you just did.”

Piso shaked his attacker’s hand and then they hugged. The clouds clear again, and the attacker’s face is revealed.

“So, you’ve decided to come out of the closet! Is this your New Year surprise to me, Hundo?”, Piso asked as he sat on his bed.

“Is that how you greet your best friend?”, Hundo said as he lightly punched Piso on the arm.

“If my security detail were here, they’d already be shaking in fear of being unemployed. That’s quite harsh of you.”

Hundo sighed, and spoke as if whispering, “Dalreida’s in trouble…”

The dictator patted the crumpled bed sheet to invite his friend to sit with him, and Hundo obliged.

“Yes,” Piso answered, “Time is running out… for all of us.”

“Even if I’m decades younger than you, it seems our generation is on the way out.”

“It’s not up to us anymore, and yet…”

“Hmm?”

“Yet the young ones are dying before us with all these incessant wars, diseases…”

Life expectancy in Dalreida ranges from 45 to 55 years of age. The very thought brings a few chills to those who have lived longer than what the projections say.

“Piso, you’re not god.”

“Of course,” Piso said with a slight smile, “Still, god has given us a charge right now.”

“The longest term. Do you really think…”

“The world was created in six days. Imagine what can god do with 680.”

“Well, Lord Ieso can take you out of power.”

They both laughed.

“Speaking of which, Alus is already on his way.”

Hundo’s eyes widened, “You actually sent that kid across the world to get you some herbs?!”

“He’s not a kid anymore. He’s just as old as you when I was transferred to Berania.”

“You really did it, huh? The ball is rolling now.”

“Elementary, my dear Hundo.”

“Oh, stop with the classical remarks. I knew you’re declining, but not like this.”

The first day of the year itself is a holiday in Dalreida, but it quickly passed as it became business as usual after the holidays. As the Assembly reconvenes for yet another session, Piso can be found in one of the bridges arching over Barian Way, the capital’s largest thoroughfare. As he enjoys his routine walk to the Assembly, his ministers are still uneasy with his actions.

“My lord,” asked Minister Retini, “Is it alright for you to walk in the open?”

After all, the head of state should not be an easy target, and yet the place virtually provides no natural protection from those who potentially have designs for their aging leader.

“I may be 96, but I’m not invalid,” Piso replied as he tapped his cane, “Besides, look at that traffic below. It’d be faster for us to walk over the Bridges of Baros.”

The Barian Way was designed to be used by vehicles only, with sidewalks and parking spaces limited to an absolute minimum, while the arching bridges over the thoroughfare is exclusively provided for pedestrians and human-powered litters. The Bridges of Baros crisscross over the Barian Way, so much so that any light from the sky barely reaches the wide road below. Then again, the current season does not feature much sunlight, making the climate quite colder.

“Yes, it does save us time, my lord,” Retini said, “But your presence here is also quite a traffic generator, if I may say so myself.”

Truly, people flocked on almost every bridge Piso has walked, even when some of the bridges are narrow. To this day, it all seems like the dictator retains the love of Dalreida’s commoners.

As Piso shook hands and patted heads, he told Retini, “I’ve been rarely at the capital in my youth. Now I’m old, if my wrinkled face makes these people glad, it’s the least that I can do.”

Despite all the commotion and his refusal to use a litter like most influential people do, Piso still arrived at the Assembly earlier than if he would have taken a chariot through the Barian Way.

The Assembly Hall is a grandiose edifice as subsequent expansions made it larger even than the Dictator’s Palace. Also unlike the Palace, which extends horizontally and has great height, the Assembly was circular in shape and goes up only a few stories. The entire building had steps wherein people can enter or exit. Columns guarded them like titans as they stretch from the ground to extremely high ceilings, an architectural option chosen to allow greater ventilation. Inside the Assembly, government offices and amenities scattered across the corridors, but the main attraction is the hall itself where the representatives meet and conduct their sessions.

In this large room, the dictator firmly seats with Assembly President Nepos and Assembly Vice President Arton in front of Piso’s ministers and around 500 representatives, 150 of which are from the three peninsulas of Dalreida. The rest comes from Aramathi (50), Kandara (50), Kamui (50), Barba (50), Carga (50), Triskaide (50), Cerana (25), and Miarza (25). The list of Dalreida’s territories displays how vast the republic has become after a century of chaos.

Nepos declares, “The first regular session of the year is now in order!”

“We concur,” Arton seconded, his example followed by the rest of the representatives.

At a glance, it is not difficult to see the stark contrast between Nepos and Arton. The former is not much of an elderly statesman as Piso, but being in his fifties and possessing considerable wealth, he might as well be elevated to the status of a privileged senior citizen, a noble personage, who can be the envy of many Dalreida citizens. The latter, while having silver hair that reflects his provincial and underprivileged roots, may be considered as the rising representative of the youth, a dashing war hero who has distinguished himself in countless battles, and possessing a demeanor that strikes a chord with Dalreida’s popular culture.

“Honorable Arton, Assemblyman of Kamui… Announce the Assembly agenda for today,” Nepos declared before fixing his golden hair.

Arton coughed a bit, and then said, “Thank you, Honorable Nepos, Assemblyman of Dalreida. As you may all know, just last month, after riots over slowing inflation rate across Dalreida, an explosion happened in the Kamui capital of Kotan. It brought down to flames the United Workers’ Association building, which also serves as a major trading post for Kamui. Four were dead, while six were injured. Such explosive power is currently experimental as far as public knowledge is concerned, so this raises the issue of national security…”

Murmuring then reigned in the background, while Piso remained quiet. The representatives began to bicker at each other.

“Time to declare a national emergency!”

“But aren’t we already in a state of emergency?”

“How come?”

“The dictatorship, my good man. The dictatorship, hello?”

“Isn’t it a normal fare anyway?”

“In that case, let’s raise taxes!”

“For what?”

“Um… Emergency taxes?”

“Expanding the intelligence fund is all we need.”

“You bumbling head don’t know anything about intelligence.”

Breaking this vicious cycle is Assemblywoman Metrica, who shouted, “It’s arson! Arson, I tell you!”

Some of the representatives misheard her remark as “Arton”, which sparked an immediate response from the opposition.

“How dare you!”, Assemblywoman Makrel roared as she pointed towards Metrica, “You attack dogs of this administration accuse the opposition leader for this act of terror?! Hah! Is that all there is for you, Mediocre Metrica?!”

Metrica quickly rolled up her scroll and threw it towards Makrel, but the latter managed to dodge the flying scroll. Still, it did hit one of Piso’s allies in the Assembly, who did not spare them heated complaints.

“Then, who did it?” Metrica sarcastically asked, “Us?!”

Makrel answered just as sarcastically, “Why not?”

Nepos repeatedly struck his wooden gavel at the marble podium.

“Order! Order! Order!”

“Speaking of orders,” Assemblyman Perolus butted in the midst of the imminent rumble, “Whatever happened to our fresh batch of weapons for the wars in Bereta and Berania?”

Makrel straightened out her dress, and replied, “I believe Barba has already transported the necessary raw materials to Dalreida.”

As the Assembly discussed the particulars of the issues in the agenda, Piso remained silent, which caused a slight concern for Nepos.

Finally, he took courage and leaned towards the dictator and whispered, “Lord Piso…”

Piso whispered back, “What is it? Do what you have to do.”

Nepos returned to his seat, and then struck his gavel.

While still having doubts in his mind, Nepos said, “If I may remind everyone in this Assembly… Lord Piso, who is up for reelection this year, has pledged to step down the following year. To prepare for this transition of power, I propose that we schedule an election.”

As Nepos spoke, Arton looked at the Assembly President with eyes narrowed.

Perolus stood up, raised his right hand, and declared, “I agree with President Nepos! Let’s have an election this year, with the victor taking office next year.”

“Good,” Nepos said with a wide smile, “Then let’s make a vote.”

“Objection, Honorable President!”

The representatives began looking and talking at each other to determine who raised a voice, only to find Arton rising from his seat while facing Nepos.

“This is mutiny,” Arton continued, “Truly, Piso publicly declared passing on power, but there is no indication of it being done through an Assembly election!”

Nepos charged at Arton and grabbed his toga. The tension has shifted to the upper echelons.

With clenched teeth, Nepos softly said, “You really don’t get it, do you? Piso’s trying to establish a dynasty. I’m going to prevent it here and now…”

Arton answered, “Piso’s got no heir! If I know anything, you’re the one trying to create a dynasty... but you’ve got to go through me first!”

He then pushed Nepos back with some force, causing the Assembly President to almost tumble, as well as ruin his hair. In Arton’s mind, having a government which agrees too much is dangerous for the republic. As Nepos recovered, he called for a break in the session, and then went on to persuade the representatives outside the hall.

Meanwhile, the oppositionists rushed to the seated Piso after most of the representatives and ministers leave the Assembly Hall. There are about 50 of them led by Arton himself. After bowing to Piso, some stood and some sat in the surrounding tables.

“My lord,” Arton opened, “You know Dalreida just had an election last year, and the official cycle is two years. Did you really mean to have the transition through an Assembly election?”

The rest of the oppositionists began asking questions as well, which proved quite incomprehensible when they say it in an almost unison manner. The opposition knew that at their present strength, they would be in a disadvantage in an Assembly election since the majority usually gets to select the magistrate as if it was a done deal.

Piso smiled, touched Arton’s shoulder, and answered, “What do you think, my son?”

Visibly irritated, Arton said, “Lord Piso, the Assembly would be reconvening soon. I’m no lackey of yours, but I also can’t let that scheming snake do as he wants!”

“You don’t want me to do what I want, too?”

“It depends. I may be an oppositionist, but I’m not opposing for opposing’s sake.”

“I want to retire. How’s that?”

Makrel entered, “Then why not now?”

“Look here, I’m a relic, okay? Don’t you think it’s better to let me expire the natural way?”

Arton then said, “Is this all a game to you, my lord? A friend of mine just died in the Kamui blast, and I know someone in the Assembly masterminded it…”

“If I tell you the rules, it won’t be as much fun now, is it? Are you looking for revenge?”

“No! Of course not… But… but I can’t let the perpetrators of state-sponsored terrorism to happily go their way. Besides, a snap election of Assembly representatives would just cause more violence. I say, the people deserve a better means for change.”

Words of affirmation from the oppositionists soon flooded Piso’s ears.

“Hmm… It sounds as though you’re also having plans of succeeding me!”

Arton paused as his colleagues looked at him, and then spoke, “If Dalreida calls for it, my lord…”

Piso laughed a bit, “That’s the spirit. You young people soar with ambition! And you should continue soaring, soar high to get the prize.”

With those words, Arton got an insight of what Piso might be thinking. His serious face lightened up for the dictator. Then, he looked at his fellow oppositionists with repeated nodding, as if trying to communicate a message already known to all of them.

“Thank you, Lord Piso,” Arton said with a slight bow.

“No need for that, Arton,” Piso responded, “But did you really need my help here? I’m a non-voter in Assembly decisions anyway.”

“Don’t humor me, my lord. How about the wars in Bereta and Berania?”

“Let’s see…,” Piso answered as he checked his cane, “I plan to lead the Bereta campaign myself.”

Makrel entered again, “At your age?!”

“I believe what the Honorable Assemblywoman from Barba meant,” Arton interjected, “is that you are better positioned to manage the affairs here at home.”

“Oh,” Piso said as he took Makrel’s hand, “But I think this fair lady’s got a point.”

Makrel shook off Piso’s hand, combed her blond hair a bit with her fingers, and went back to her place while her face seemingly flushed.

Piso continued, “Still, troops up north somewhat get amped when seeing me. It’s quite a marvel really, and besides, our people keep calling for more war.”

“Then, my lord,” Arton said, “I’d propose myself to spearhead the Berania campaign!”

“Eager to add your stars, Arton? I guess the world is getting smaller with globalization, but I’ve got other plans for Berania, and I don’t think neither you nor Nepos would like it.”

“We can crush Berania!”, Arton declared, and his colleagues agreed on that notion.

“If I recall correctly, none of you have been assigned to Berania yet, right?”

The oppositionists looked at each other, and then responded with weak nods to the dictator.

“And that’s a wrap for today,” Piso said with a mysterious smile, “I’ve just been informed that the representatives are going back to this hall. Honorable representatives, may Ieso keep you.”

He received the prompt from one of his elite guards, who are hiding within the Assembly. While serving in Berania, Piso saw firsthand the rigors of desert warfare, even when Berania itself was sparsely populated compared to Dalreida, a point which he tries to instill among the oppositionists.

As the representatives reentered the Assembly Hall, Nepos can be seen bursting with confidence. It signifies a job well done, at least for him, and some strong hairdo. As expected, he called again to vote for an Assembly election, but Arton was quick to counter him.

“Not so fast, Honorable President… Have you forgotten that we need to deliberate on this matter first?”

Seemingly unfazed, Nepos answered with a grin and a single strong strike of his gavel, “Very well, the floor is all yours, Honorable Vice President.”

Arton stands up and channels his oratorical skills, but would it be enough to change minds within the super majority which Nepos managed to organize in the past year? How does the Piso administration plan to deal with its mounting problems? What is Hundo doing at this time?