Do you still remember that time

When you hold fast this hand of mine

Hiding inside of us great pride

All this time we are hypnotized

Wanting to know what it is like

Without sending you any sign

Alus wakes up hearing this song. He is slow to open his eyes as he enjoys the tune. There was no feeling of urgency to actually get up. Perhaps he was really dead after all?

Yet when he finally looked, it turns out he is still in the same bed, in the same house. And the one singing? It is Kisira. She turns out to be a good singer even with a somewhat hushed voice she uses, presumably in consideration of his sleep. As he picks up the energy to get up from the bed, he sees her preparing their meals as she sings.

Turning to look at the soldier once more, since she has done so multiple times earlier, she notices that he is already awake, “Magandang... Oh, I mean, good morning. Are you feeling better? I didn’t prematurely wake you up with all the noise, did I?”

“Good morning… It’s alright,” he responds as he sits up on the bed, “But anyway, I guess the medics sent by the Beggar King didn’t notice you last night as well. Did you mind that? Like, because, you’re up early. I should be the one asking you if you had a good sleep. Besides, a sleeping mat on this kind of floor may not be the best of beds to rest with.”

“You amuse me. I hope you’re not thinking of me as a spoiled noblewoman. Besides, you’re the one who needed the bed more. Or… Are you implying that you want me lying with you?”

He blinked, “Young girls are hard to understand nowadays…”

She clenched her fist for him to see, “What did you say?”

“N-nothing! Ah, yeah, you seem to be in a good mood. Is it your birthday or something?”

Kisira lost her grip of the metal bowl she holds, which was fortunately empty and did not hit anybody as it falls to the floor. Realizing her blunder, she then collects herself and hurriedly took back the metal bowl.

“Hmm? Was that hot enough to penetrate your gloves?”, Alus asks as he rises from the bed to offer his help with the housework.

“N-no! It’s alright! I can do this! Really, I can!”

“Okay,” the soldier said as he walked to the dining table, “but don’t tell me you stole all these foods? I know it’s not lavish for the well-off, but this looks like a feast for a beggar, don't you think?”

She shivered as she joined him on the table, “D-don’t mind that… Get going… I mean, eating!”

“Are you alright?”

“Pray tell, do you know me?”

“I guess…? You’re Kisira. Twenty-two years of age. Daughter of a high-ranking official. Always wanted grateful recognition for a job well done. Twisted at times, but I guess, kindhearted.”

“I can’t believe it… Except for that second to the last remark, you still remember me…”

“Why should I forget? If I knew any better, it really is your birthday today,” Alus grins, “I used to do the same for myself during my academy days. I treat myself because nobody else does it for me. But don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I don’t have many friends because…”

“You’re wrong. I’m 23.”

After taking the first bite, the surprised soldier responded, “Wait a minute, didn’t you say you’re… Oh…”

She looks away and smiles, “Yeah… And you know… I'm... I’m glad... that I get to spend it with you.”

He was about to pull a sarcastic remark, but when he saw how Kisira reacted, Alus thought it over and figured a simpler statement would be better, “In that case, happy birthday.”

She looked back at him, this time with shock, “Huh? No witty lines? No moves to get the girl?”

He taps the table out of irritation, “That’s low! Do you think I’m here in foreign soil to find love or something like that? Anyway, heh... I’m reminded of another person who probably gets to celebrate a birthday today.”

Kisira’s eyes narrowed, preparing to pinch if he answers unsatisfactorily, “Don’t you dare say it’s your ex again.”

“Ex? No, of course not. What I mean is, you actually share the same birthday with Lord Piso.”

Indeed, on the other side of the world, it was only hours away before Dalreida enters yet another festive mood. Their beloved dictator’s birthday is one of the biggest events in the country, even when it is not an official holiday. This tradition has been carried over from the celebration of kings’ birthdays prior to the establishment of the republic.

As for Piso himself, he remains ensconced in the palace. He does not seek to have his birthday being treated in such a manner, but as he stays in power longer, the more difficult it becomes to stop such tradition. After all, even a century hence the republic was established, to hail leaders such as himself is a practice which persisted for so long.

“Hundo,” the seated Piso speaks in the Conference Room, “How are things going at the east?”

Facing Piso, Hundo replies, “The situation in Aramathi has stabilized, but Rabka’s still nowhere to be found. Had not those representatives forced me to withdraw my troops at…!”

“Let it go, Hundo. But you see, I’m more interested with the events in Bayan.”

His best friend looks around before answering in a careful manner, “If you meant the kid, I’ve got sporadic reports from there. At least Kayapa can confirm that he’s entered Bayan territory, but on how far he’s reached…”

“Let’s just pray that he can make it in time. After all, Ieso’s always in time.”

“Speaking of Ieso, have you signed that law on religious freedom? It looks good to me.”

“I’d be signing them all tomorrow. I’ll be busy so the people won’t bother me that day.”

Hundo laughs, “You mean, your birthday? You’re 97, so what? You just took down Excalator!”

“That’s not it. You knew how I hate my life being made a public fanfare. And for what?”

One of Piso’s elite guards appears behind him and whispers, “Lady Lacsacati is here, my lord.”

“Speak of the devil… Alright, send her in.”

As soon as the guard was out, the doors slam open and behold Lacsacati enters. Both Piso and Hundo can feel a sudden surge of pride sweep the room with her entry. Lacsacati is of relatively small stature, but her wear is regaler than anyone present. Considering the power represented in that room, she may probably be the most showy about her extraordinary status.

Two elegant togas drape over her tunic, all of which were made of high quality fabric. They even seem to shine when light strikes them. She is not short of any jewelry, from a golden crown studded with precious stones, diamond earrings, golden rings on every finger, each having different colored stone attached, a chain necklace also fitted with precious stones, to heels made more expensive by the gems attached to them. Her silver hair flows down to her chest, with which some strands had pink metal clips holding them together. The public found it safe to dub her as a walking luxury shop.

As she takes a seat beside Hundo, the dictator warmly greets her, “Lady Lacsacati, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Enough with the small talk, Piso,” Lacsacati says with an arrogant look, “Won’t the better opening phrase be like this: What’s the business of Dalreida’s richest person here?”

“Hey, Lacsacati,” the Kandara representative interjected, “Show some respect to your elders!”

She looks at Hundo, and then turns away from him, indicating that she intends to ignore him. He was insulted, and this was not the first time either. Even though he let it pass by keeping silent, his face was so convoluted that it betrays his emotions against her.

“As I was saying,” she continues, “I’ll cut to the chase. Time is money.”

“Alright,” Piso calmly replies as he clasps his hands together, “I’m listening.”

She makes a forced smile, albeit it was rehearsed so much, it appeared as real as it gets, “For starters, happy birthday! And as you may know, your birthday’s always a big event in this country. I’m planning to spend so much to celebrate it with all the people. I tell you, this is going to be bigger than ever before! I already laid out the plans and…”

“You lost me.”

“What?”

“I said, you lost me. I can’t have a proposal like that backed by the republican government. It’s a terrible waste of resources. As I always asked, why not engage in corporate social programs?”

Dalreida's most affluent lady pulls out a scroll and unveils within it a complicated chart full of theorems and its applications expounded through worded problems, “What does a soldier like you know about economics? Here’s the real deal. Holiday economics is good for the economy. Let them spend all, provided that I get a sizeable share of the sales, of course, to keep the money circulating. We produce, they consume, the process repeats itself at a faster pace. Not only do they get to buy things, they also get to help the poor and the marginalized with a little hike in the prices that’ll surely go to those who have less fortunes in life. What good is it for them to keep them in banks and stocks and bonds? A market crash happens once in ten years or so. The only reason why we get to avoid that is because of our continuous wars. But not for long. There’ll come a time when we won’t earn well from our conquests, or there’s nowhere else to conquer. How do you think we can recoup our massive expenses?”

“By regulating the market through progressive taxation, upholding consumer rights, sustainable consumption and production, sound economic governance, and ensuring essential public goods remain available for the public.”

“You're spouting nonsense. Look, we’re keeping public goods available to the public. Only in exchange for well-priced tolls. Let the market flow freely because people are the market.”

“Lady Lacsacati, I’ve said this for many years. I’m not interested in having my birthday, or any other holiday they attach to my name, become a profiteering venture. They should enjoy the blessings of the land, not as impulsive consumerists, but with the sense of being vital building blocks of themselves and the nation.”

“Piso, the government’s treasury will soon run on empty. We the private sector can help you. Look at what we can do with the income, and of course, the commission for you is assured.”

“Mmm. Why don’t you start with paying the right amount of wages and fully declare your taxes?”

The infuriated Lacsacati slammed the table, “Enough! I’ll make a profit from your birthday whether you like it or not! Mark my words, Piso. I can buy you and your position whenever I want. What Drizhan did in Triskaide is a filthy peasant’s work compared with what I can do to this country.”

The dictator smiled, “We’ll see.”

“Hmph! I’m done with this. But if something extraordinary happens and it changes your mind, you know where to reach me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The lady speedily walks out of the Conference Room, leaving the scroll behind. In her back, Hundo mouths some curses. His hand trembled as he kept himself composed enough not to chop the back of her head.

Piso coughs, “Er, Hundo. That’s enough.”

The Kandara representative stops his act, “I apologize. It’s just that Lacsacati’s very infuriating!”

“I know, but Lacsacati talks of our current reality. Our economy is built on inequality.”

“What do you plan now? I can already imagine her talking with Nepos and his associates.”

“Sadly, even some of my ministers are already under her pay. I was told that Kokitel just sold his loyalty to her for unlimited nights out with boys…”

“What’s wrong with Kokitel hanging out with his fellow men?”

“Don’t you know he’s already out of the closet?”

“You mean he also sprang out of your closet to kill you? You should really have a new closet.”

Piso facepalmed and muttered to himself, “Ieso, please help me.”

“What? You’re praying now? Are your aides going to serve something already?”

As expected, the famed dictator's birthday turned out to be a great feast equaled to that of the three gods of Dalreida, and Lacsacati made sure to earn her keep. By heavily publicizing the ventures her corporation has undertaken to celebrate, their income for that day was off the charts. Lacsacati also predicted correctly how the economy would react with making Piso’s birthday a big day.

Even though she did not gain Piso’s approval, the rest of the republican government who she colluded with saw advantages to exploit during the occasion. Nepos and his administration allies stumped across the republic to solidify their positions, as well as to present their case to the people concerning themselves being the best candidates to succeed Piso. Meanwhile, the oppositionists followed Piso’s example and kept a low profile throughout the day. After all, regardless of their differences on issues and policies, the dictator is officially affiliated with the super majority party of Nepos. They have to maintain their image as a credible opposition, even when it meant limited to no media coverage for that day.

Of course, with all the grand festivities going on, most of the people did not mind what or who exactly they were celebrating. Nevertheless, a considerable amount of them did not spare any delay going to the Palace. Thousands assembled outside the Dictator’s Palace, where they arranged an elaborate program and sang songs to honor their paramount leader. Finally, their wait was not in vain. Piso himself showed up at his terrace sometime in the afternoon, waved around, and then retired after a few minutes.

One of his elite guards asked their master as he was escorted inside, “My lord, forgive me, but can I voice my honest opinion?”

The dictator smiles but does not turn to him, “Even if it’s not my birthday, I believe I can accommodate you. Could you be a new recruit here?”

“Frankly, no. I’ve been in your service for a year now, my lord.”

“That’s good to know. I guess I’m a pretty competent employer after all.”

“You are, my lord, and I don’t want that to change anytime soon.”

“Do your work well, and I’m sure you can continue in the service.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the elite guard said as he becomes uneasy, “I refer to your safety.”

“What about it?”

“Um… I think, well, you know, having an open terrace like that… Isn’t it prone to many threats? After all, the elite guards are on rotational shifts. What if we’re infiltrated by malcontents?”

Piso stops walking, “I’m aware of that. I’m not safe in this palace or anywhere else.”

“Then why do you keep it so?”

“Because those who value their life will lose it.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you seeking some secret in Bayan to keep on living?”

They fell quiet for a while. After this, the dictator's smile fades as he taps his cane and resumes walking. The elite guard quickly follows him, and regains close proximity to his master.

“My son,” Piso then says, “The prudent keeps knowledge to themselves.”

The elite guard does not respond. Instead, he draws his sword and slashes the blade against Piso’s back. However, the dictator comes out unharmed as he squats and reverse strikes his legs with the cane. The guard collapses on his knees, but he still launches his own attack by thrusting the sword. Piso evades it once more, this time by jumping. He then hits the guard’s head with a spinning move, which causes the latter to fall flat on his back.

After confirming that he lost consciousness, Piso examines the guard’s body. In his pocket, the dictator finds a card bearing a familiar insignia. Meanwhile, he did not realize soon enough that the guard was not entirely knocked out. With the last of his strength, the defeated soldier pulls out a string from his sleeve and snaps his finger to light it. The flame he sparked spreads fast, first through the string, and then across his entire body.

Piso jumps away as soon as he smelled something burning, “What have you done?!”

The guard laughs mischievously, “Roshan kardan!”

The dictator runs to the nearest window and leaps from it. Behind him, the gunpowder wrapped underneath the guard’s armor explodes, leaving in its wake a holed floor and a burning hallway. The explosion pushes Piso further away from the window. In an attempt to decelerate, Piso pulls out Raja Ikinen and plants it on the wall. It created a huge cut that can be seen by the people outside.

An unwanted commotion erupted, and the media personnel were quick to the scene. The dictator lands on his feet safely, and sheathes the sword just in time. But then, he was immediately mobbed by the people celebrating his birthday, as well as reporters of all media types who were excited for a unique scoop. Piso has been target of many assassination attempts before, but at least during his dictatorship, it was the first time someone got as close to even damaging the palace to achieve the feat of defeating the nation's strongest.

“I’m alright,” Piso declared as he awaits his elite guards to gather, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

However, instead of his usual elite guard, it was the city constabulary that came to his rescue. While similar to the military, the constabulary uniform consists of scale armor, their weapons were primarily shields and batons. Only their officers carried swords and spears. Among them was Minister Retini, who personally escorted Piso back to the palace.

“Okay, okay,” the exhausted minister told the people, “You heard our dictator. Go home and keep safe.”

“Retini,” Piso calmly asked, “What are you doing here?”

“My lord,” the worried Retini answered while catching his breath, “I’m informed by Kokitel about another attempt against you! That’s why I rushed here with all that I can muster!”

“How can he possibly know that? I was just attacked a few minutes ago.”

“I really don’t know the details, my lord. I’m wondering about it myself. Shouldn’t your elite guard be present at all times?”

The dictator let that pass, “Retini, call all the ministers and their deputies here.”

His minister was surprised, “W-what?! My lord, an attack just happened here!”

“It’s an order.”

Retini hesitated, and then nodded, before running towards the communications room. As he rushed, he had a feeling that Piso had suspicions within his own inner circle. It increased his anxiety. A political purge may well be the last thing the nation needs after learning of such an explosive assassination attempt.

While the staff did everything they can to contain the damage, it will prove difficult to repair the palace anytime soon. The attacker’s body was almost unrecognizable because of the blast, but as Retini have thought, Piso managed to come up with ideas on who may have been behind this horrible attack.

It was already night when all the ten ministers and forty deputy ministers arrived in the palace. They meet in the Conference Room, which was well-lighted for such emergency meeting. The elite guards, now found after the incident, were briefed. Thereafter, Piso enters the meeting. He finds the ministers and their deputies bickering, even when there was no set agenda yet. The dictator takes a seat in the center of the room, wherein he gets a view of all the people before him.

“Happy birthday, Lord Piso,” they said in unison, “Forgive us for being rude.”

Piso smiles and motions his hand, “Don’t think about it. I know the traffic’s been horrendous.”

Retini speaks up, “My lord, I believe it’s about time we get to the issue at hand.”

Their dictator nods, “Good thinking, Retini. As you may all know, I was attacked hours ago in this palace. I’m used to assassination attempts against my mortal frame. Now, I can understand when someone derailed my return journey from Bereta to the capital in an attempt to kill me. But we’re in the center of Dalreida. This will definitely affect public opinion.”

“My lord,” Kokitel interjected with a clenched fist, “We should crush the terrorists!”

“Mmm. But aren’t you putting judgment against yourself?”

Sweat began to form on his forehead as the minister replies, “I… Y-you’re right, my lord… We should be c-cautious in rendering judgment… Besides, we still d-don’t know who was behind…”

“I know.”

Kokitel rose from his seat, “What do you know?!”

Piso motions for his defiant minister to sit down before bringing out a card, “Relax. I’m not here for some witch hunting among you. But first, I’ll give you a quick background. My latest assassin had this card with him, and his final words were roshan kardan.”

The card is black, and has a small white circle in the center. This is the same for both sides.

Some of the ministers were startled, “My lord, you don’t mean…?”

“Farblosigkeit.”

The Farblosigkeit is a professional assassin group, a death squad if you may call them as such, mostly composed of people who do not see reason in social order and hierarchy. They believe in the restoration of the natural harmony of humanity, that is the absence of government and authority. In order to keep operations going, they sell their expertise to the highest bidder, but unlike mercenaries whose objectives end with the mission they were assigned with, these assassins only accept tasks which they view would bring them closer to their collective goal. This is to achieve the complete breakdown of the existing world systems.

“Surely their mastermind has designs against you,” Retini boldly speaks, “Knowing the Farblosigkeit, they won’t move so quickly without handsome pay.”

The dictator rolls his eyes, “Everybody wants to rule the world... even if it’s a destroyed one.”

In hopes of gaining Piso’s favor, they all fight against each other as they sensed that their leader must have called them together to weed the odd one out. The ministers and their deputies did not spare anything, from words to fists, while they try to identify if the culprit is among them. Piso lets their little game play out for some time, and then he speaks again, getting their full attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m aware that a number of you have been involved in shady deals, but none of you could’ve masterminded such an attempt. This isn’t an insult, but a compliment. Well then, my objective here isn’t to lambast you or demand your resignation. That would be too easy. They’ll catch on if I take out any of you. It’d be bad for you, too. They’d see you as useless, and then throw you away like chaff. No, I don’t want you to suffer such dishonor.”

This well timed assurance gave his audience peace of mind as they settle down on their seats.

“You are my people of confidence,” Piso continues, at this point with a smile, “Let’s keep it at that, alright?”

When Kokitel saw this demeanor, he throws himself to the floor and cries, “Lord Piso! Even if you’re almost killed, you still think of us! Oh Tarches! I’ll admit! I’ll admit it all! I was tapped by Lady Lacsacati and other powerful interests with her to negotiate with the Farblosigkeit! But my lord, I don’t know how they managed to decommission your personal elite guard so soon!”

This did not surprise Piso one bit.

“Why did you do such a thing?”

“A lot of favors were promised… And I can have all the boys I want, too…”

The dictator walks to Kokitel, but Retini protests, “My lord, don’t go near that traitor!”

The other ministers followed up Retini, each with their strong appeals, but Piso did not heed their calls.

“Are you telling the truth?”, the dictator gently asks, “Is that all you have to say?”

Kokitel rubs his eyes and nods.

“Hear me, fellow public servants,” Piso exhorts, “I mean it when I said I’ll give the dictatorship to the worthiest among you. May you be from the lowest classes to the highest, you all have one rare chance to prove yourself. Kokitel, I always remember when you keep going on and on because this pledge gave you hope. I appreciate that. Continue hoping, my minister.”

Kokitel looks up as tears roll down his cheeks, “C-can you forgive me, my lord?”

“Of course. As long as god forgives us, so should we forgive one another...”

“But, my lord,” Retini interrupted, “What about justice? This man… or woman… or whatever gender orientation it is for this traitor, must be prosecuted!”

“Correct,” the dictator responds, “But I already told you. They’d catch on if I remove all of you now. Who knows if only Kokitel’s working with them? Who knows if Lacsacati’s not the real head? I'm not invincible, and believe me when I tell you, I need you now more than you know.”

Those who are present murmur with each other. Their ambitions were replaced with concerns revolving around their own self-preservation.

“This is your last chance,” Piso continued, “Kokitel’s here for you as an example. God’s justice is different from ours. I believe that my god will be merciful and just, but how about your human judges?”

It took time before some of the ministers and their deputies also leave their seats and bow low to Piso. They profusely apologize for their collusion with interests who wanted to rid of Piso’s existence and take over. Similar with Kokitel, they were promised much, but when they gave them second thought, their sponsors would most likely leave them in the dust to further rise in rank and be on the top of the world.

With all magnaminity, Piso forgives them and blesses them in the name of Ieso. Shock and awe filled the remaining ministers and deputy ministers, including Retini himself, who apparently remained clean of such involvements, but still remained apprehensive of the events to come. It was such a glorious display which melted their hearts, not out of fear, but out of respect.

The meeting concluded with the agreement for those who got involved with Lacsacati, Farblosigkeit, and the others to continue operations with them to gain vital information on their future movements. Every piece would be vital to solve the assassination puzzle. However, how can it be assured that the ministers and their deputies who discarded their dictator for personal gain would sustain their newfound loyalty? What do Lascacati and her associates harbor against the aging dictator? How was the Farblosigkeit founded in the first place?