Post
Region: the Pacific
A fluttery powder of snow begins to fall ever harder upon the castle, as a bitter chill continues to take its toll on the ever dreary structure. A landscape of pure white is all that could be seen from any window -- the concrete and stone utterly subservient to mother nature’s continued wrath. Ne’er a tree could be seen until a blinding white light stormed across the snow, reflecting upon the landscape and the falling snow. Some sort of vehicle, it seems. Closer and closer it drew, gliding gently across the snow barely compacting a single snowflake.
“Who could that possibly be? Only a great fool could eve-.”
Fluff stops himself in his tracks -- he realizes. It was obvious to him now, how could he have thought otherwise? It was Allen, of course. Allen had become a very close confidant of Fluff over these many years, they had become almost inseparable since the incident.
“...Sire, do you need anything?”
“Can anything be done to warm this room?... Let her… let Allen in when she makes it here.”
“We shall… I’ll work on the heat situation, my Tsar. It’s… well, it’s rough out here.”
“Perhaps 100 years ago this would be acceptable, not now.”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
Fluff begins to look out the window once again, but the vehicle has left his view just as quickly as it entered it. Only the minor marks of the vehicle were left behind, and those are quickly being covered up by snow. She must have arrived… or she spun out. Certainly a scary thought, sure. Scarier yet to lose the one he trusts the most, the one he respects the most. A lost man losing another thing, a man that will never be whole again. A scary thought indeed. But this would not come to pass, Fluff would not let it.
Just then, a furious knock rang out at the door, echoing through the castle. Fluff tumbled ever faster down the stairs as the knocks got louder. However, he did not get to the door first. A wave of frost entered the castle upon the opening of the door. It was exactly who he expected, Allen. She looked exasperated, no doubt because of the snowy landscape of the Dushinan countryside. Allen hastily enters the castle and shuts the door behind herself -- she isn’t wearing a coat, only her regular attire.
[Cough] “Er… thank you, Fluff. It’s good to see you. How goes it?”
“Cold. Quite cold.”
“Why did you come out here, anyway?”
“Just… just get inside. Get warm, go by the fire… smoke a cigar, whatever.”
“I… I understand”
Mittens and Allen walk upstairs and take up their place by the fireplace, sitting on an ornate velvet couch. It was at that moment that Mittens realized that the fire wasn’t lit. No wonder he was cold, he didn’t even have it lit. He fumbles around in a drawer but eventually finds a lighter. Then, he lights the fire -- slightly singeing his deep purple robe. The gentle crinkling of the fire is a wonderful distraction from the outside world, just what he needs right now.
“Thirty nine years. Thirty nine -- nearly.”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“It’s hard. You pour your heart out, you sacrifice everything for your nation and you don’t even get the respect you deserve. The media demonizes you… not from within, but from without. They don’t get it. Some guy is probably typing away about this right now. I can’t do anything to stop them, ‘lest they get the notion that Dushina would be better off without a monarchy. It’s a tower ready to fall, and it shall fall. I fear it shall. I doubt Dushina will survive after I’m gone. Not this Dushina.
Tsar Fluff stands up and lights a cigar off the fireplace, then hurriedly takes a puff
I’ve been working on a plan… I’m not sure that it will work, however.”
“Do tell, Flo-
Mittens glares at her, annoyed.
Err, sorry. Do tell, Fluff.”
“It’s… I’ve been keeping it on the back burner for years but it’s something worth seriously considering now. I’m planning on resigning. Not yet, but when the time comes. I’m not sure who will succeed me. It’s… it’s a tough choice.”
“Have you told anyone about this yet?”
“Just you, Allen. You’re the only one I can trust right now. Maybe I split it in thirds? No… that wouldn’t make sense. I already left Dushina smaller than I found it, I can’t just let yet more chunks slip away. It’s always bothered me, that situation. What will my people think of me after I die? I don’t want to be a footnote, I want to be an era.”
“You can’t determine your legacy, that is for others to decide.”
“I shall do what I please! I… I cannot leave it here. I can’t resign here. I can’t resign now. I still have work to do yet. One final major accomplishment is not a request, but a requirement. But what if I can’t finish that? I keep thinking and thinking more about it. Fate is a fickle thing, so is a legacy. If I am not the hero of the Dushinan people then I’d rather die unknown and go into a pauper's grave.”
“Let’s just… I want you to relax.”
“How can I relax at a moment like this? This is a crossroad I’ve been avoiding for forty years yet, I cannot just keep kicking the can down the road.”
“Just try.”
Mittens falls silent and begins staring intently at the fire. He almost sheds a tear but it is quickly stifled. It had been a long time since he had someone to converse with like Allen. Someone who could talk through a stressful situation is what he needed right now, not like the mindless spineless encouragement he had been receiving from “yes men” for years upon years. Someone who can think about every single aspect of a situation and masterfully solve each and every query. A friend -- not for his royalty, but just for his company.
1,012 words