Krysalida

Bialous often wondered what it would be like once his father had died. He was certain he was going into uncharted territory in his own home country, but was he prepared for what he’d find there? Barely eight hours ago, he was back in London getting up to attend a conference. Now he was staring out the window of a Mercedes sedan at the streets of Amur. A drizzle was pouring down over the town, blanketing it with a thin reflective veil. This gave the buildings the only sense of beauty Bialous could find in them, creating a subtle kaleidoscope of red bricks and grey concrete. The overcast sky did nothing to uplift the mood.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have spoken to the Glorious Father one last time, sir.” Bialous replied with the same passive nod he had been giving him ever since they left the airport. The car turned a sharp left and moved into a large avenue lined with damp trees and thousands of people. Their frantic waves and shouts had little effect on Bialous. “You must come to terms with this sooner or later, sir. And the sooner the better. The country needs you. They need you.” The general Kratos marked these last words with a forceful finger pressing against the window.

“I know.” Bialous had finally spoken his first words on Sutlanan soil ever since he had left it some twenty years ago. It was not at all how he had hoped to return.

“When can I see my sister?” This was all that was on his mind. He hadn’t seen her since last fall, and wanted to talk to her before any decisions were made. Seeing her wavy black hair as she sang those melodies they used to hear as children in the countryside every summer - that’s what he longed for the most right now.

“As soon as we reach the palace, Prodigal Son.” He noticed general Kratos’ voice had a reassuring tone sometimes. He found it somewhat out of place, given the man’s square jawline, his sharp complexion, and short but perfectly trimmed hair that emphazised his high military rank.

The road narrowed a little as they entered the ministerial district, and the crowd was much closer to the car. Some were just a few feet away, almost touching it in their attempts to be near Bialous, even if for a fraction of a second. His mind seemed to have awakened, for he noticed something strange.

“Why aren’t they waving any flags?”

The general sat up straight with a surprised look about him. “Why only officials and family members of the Glorious Father may carry them! Surely you know this, sir.”

Bialous, not wanting to seem ignorant of state matters, quickly added “Of course. But this is a special occasion. I was just wondering why an exception wasn’t made?”

“The moment you make an exception, the populace will want for more. These things must be carefully...” there was a short pause as he searched for the right word. “balanced.” For a moment, Bialous thought there was something of a repressed chuckle in his voice. He made nothing of it.

They arrived at the palace gates with the rain now pouring, but the crowd wasn’t leaving. If anything it seemed to be growing despite the weather getting worse. The shouts became somewhat perceptible for a moment. Bialous could make out a few “We love you!” or “Glory to the Prodigal Son!”. He could still feel nothing. No grief, no anger. Not even anxiety at the thought of what was to come. He suddenly realized this was what it was like to feel empty. Part of him wanted to feel something for the people who had come here to see his arrival, but they only seemed a blur - a human mass with no great relevance except for the fact that they loved him. And this was the first time they were seeing him.

General Kratos was looking rather pleased as he made some quick introductions to the Chiefs of Staff, Minister Severina, of Interior Affairs, and General Hada, commanding the 4th Sutlanan Brigade, which Bialous knew were famous for their skills and daring missions. They bowed as they shook hands and whispered respectfully “Prodigal Son.”

“Please, this way sir. This is the Glorious Father’s study. This is where your father directed our Fate when in town.” Minister Severina had bowed at every mention of his father and hardly dared to look at him.

“Our fate?”

She tried to give speak but General Kratos quickly interrupted with a smile. “Not yours, sir. Your Fate was written the moment you were born. But like the Glorious Father, you will decide our Fate.” He paced around the room and faced a large painting of tall man vaguely resembling Bialous’ father. From there he looked upwards to it. “It shall be our duty to follow it.” Bialous noted he didn’t bow like the minister. He daren’t say anything yet. There was too much he didn’t understand, but secretly hoped he would soon.

A single sheet lay on the desk over a leather binder. Next to it a gold pen.

“I want to see my sister.”

“You need to sign this to confirm your succession to the Glorious Father, sir.”

Bialous tried to change tactics a little. “I thought the ceremony would only take place tomorrow?”

“And it will, but we... you need to have make your position known beforehand.” General Kratos was pulling the large leather swivel chair inviting Bialous to sit.

“I don’t think I can do this right now.” General Kratos merely blinked. Bialous stood uneasily, his legs urging him to move, held back only by his will to refuse. “This is happening too soon. I need to get some bearings, some idea of what is going on.”

“What is going on is your country has lost it’s Father, and needs leadership.”

“It can wait for a few days, though, I’m sure.” For a moment, Bialous felt he was regaining some control over events.

The general’s lips curled into a small thin smile. “Prodigal Son, there are those who do not wish to see you succeed.” He took a pause to choose his words. “While the Glorious Father did his best to show us the way ahead, some have chosen to turn their backs to reason.”

“I still don’t see how this makes things any more urgent. Wouldn’t it be more logical to make this public, and legitimise things that way?”

“Your father was wise to send you abroad. You have gained great wisdom for your age, but there are things you do not know.” He motioned to General Hada, who approached, bowed and turned on a large screen attached to the wall opposite the desk. It showed the local news channel, a woman on a corner of the screen describing events as a group of people, mostly Bialous’ age, gathered around a building he couldn’t recognise. They weren’t friendly like the people he had seen cheering him outside earlier. These were angry, even enraged people. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, except some loose words. He was shocked when he heard “impostor” from one of them. He approached to look closer. Some were getting violent, dragging whatever hard objects they could get their hands on to throw at the building in front of them.

“What is this? Where is this happening?”

“In the corporate sector, sir. That’s the Ministry of Finances building you see there.” Minister Severina helpfully pointed out the inscription on the building façade.

They were getting closer to the main entrance despite a police blockade to stop them. For a moment Bialous thought he recognized one of the men at the front of the crowd.

“Who is that?” He asked pointing to a tall man, in his late fifties, short greying hair and large brown eyes - like Bialous’.

General Kratos approached. “You noticed him. You have good perception, Prodigal Son.”

The man on the screen looked directly at the camera for a few short seconds and Bialous’ eyes seemed to lock into his, as if gazing into each other’s souls for a brief moment. All doubts disappeared then. “My uncle! What is he doing with them?”

Kratos smiled again, this time grimly. “I think you already know, sir. While you were away, he decided to ally himself to this... rabble. They aren’t normally a threat, but with him as their leader...”

Bialous felt a sudden conviction rise in him. “I want to speak to him. How can I get there?”

“That will be unnecessary, sir. We can bring him here, safely of course. However he may refuse, unless we... have proof that you have indeed succeeded your Father.” Kratos eyed the sheet on the desk.

Bialous understood the message. “And can I see my sister after I sign this?”

“Of course, sir.” Kratos bowed his head to Bialous for the first time.

Bialous resolutely walked to the desk, sat on the chair and found it to be surprisingly comfortable; the sides and back hugged his body just enough to cushion him, as if made to his exact size. He picked the pen and signed.

The final line read “We, the undersigned, do hereby recognize Bialous Haaz, the Prodigal Son of the Glorious Father, as successor and new Leader of Sutlana.”

His sister already waiting in a luxurious room on the East wing of the palace. As soon as he had closed the door behind him she leapt to his arms and hugged him. She always did so every time they met, but this felt different. She was trembling slightly. He put his arms around her to try and soothe away her fears.

“Bia, what’s happening? Kratos wouldn’t let me out of my room! He said it was for my own protection, but I don’t believe him.”

Bialous held her arms with his hands and took in her sight. He had missed her so much since this morning, but now he could feel was worry for her. “Silidia, he’s actually probably right.”

She searched his eyes. “What do you mean? We were never treated like this before! I know we weren’t here, in the palace, but-”

“I saw... I saw the riots. They were violent. I don’t know how, but some people hated father. They must’ve had a reason, but it sounds hard believe.”

“Riots?” Silidia stood mouth agape, then broke free of his hold to turn on the television in the living room area. The same pictures were still on, although the crowd was now openly fighting the police. “How can this be happening?”

Before Bialous could answer, a picture of the man he recognized came up. Silidia put the sound a bit louder to hear the news anchor speak.

“Known leader of the separatist group known as the Freedom Collective, and family member of the Glorious Father has been captured. We can rest assured the Prodigal Son to be safe as the traitorous group should be swiftly dealt with at this most sacred time in our beautiful nation.”

“It’s uncle Kiron!”

“Yes. I told general Kratos I want to see him.”

Silidia turned around bruskly. “What for?”

“To reason with him, of course!” Bialous couldn’t quite believe he had to explain this to his sister.

“Reason... the man never understood reason! Don’t you remember how he made mom cry? How he constantly pushed her to go against dad’s wishes?”

Although she was his younger sister by almost five years, he couldn’t remember much of his life before their mother’s death. “Not really. I remember them arguing sometimes. That’s all.”

“Bia, don’t let him get to you. I never trusted him. For all we know, he could’ve had a hand in dad’s death!”

“How could you think such a thing!”

“Have you looked at that crowd? I’ve seen people like that in Paris, Bia. They’re not a happy bunch! And they tend to hate anyone who doesn’t think like them.”

It dawned on him that he still wasn’t quite sure how father had died. The thought that Silidia’s suspicions could be right gave him a violent shiver. “I seriously doubt that he’d kill anyone. Besides, have you looked at how well guarded this place is?”

“How can you be so sure?” Silidia defiantly retorted. “We’ve never been here. Not really. We don’t even know our own way around the palace, much less how it functions.”

Bialous had to concede this to her. “Alright. I’ll talk to him, but I’m not making any decisions until I know more about what’s going on.”

Silidia hugged him again, this time more reassured. “I just don’t want to make any rash decisions, that’s all.”

“I always thought you’d make a great leader someday.” She said with a dreamy smile. Bialous turned the screen off with the remote, but didn’t feel any more confident. He closed his eyes and was finally able to feel the emptiness in him disappear under a wave of pain as memories of his father came to him.

Profile sheets got shuffled on the Glorious Father’s desk as general Kratos tried to gain some insight into the evening’s rioters.

Severina was absentmindedly playing with some paper clips while sitting close by. Hada broke the silence as he came in, closing the doors to the study behind him.

“They’re sleeping now.”

“Good.” Kratos laid his hands on the desk as if to underline his next sentence. “What do you make of him so far?”

Hada gathered his thoughts as he watched the crowds dissipate outside. The rain was still beating against the windows. Looking above the rooftops, the clouds darkened the sky to a heavy black haze completely blocking the night sky. He was partly surprised they had stayed around for so long, although the love for the Glorious Father was so great a little drizzle could easily be overcome. “I don’t think he’s all in it, if you get what I mean.” He focused on a small group of stragglers being ushered away by an armed patrol. “He’s got potential but his heart is not in it.”

Severina cut in. “Didn’t your people do their job? Do we have to babysit him here too?”

Hada turned to face her but Kratos stopped him before he could reply. “Now, Severina. We all know there wasn’t enough time to fully... prepare the lad. This was unexpected.”

Her gaze narrowed, but she dropped the subject; after all, the old man did teach her to pick her fights. He might have been an old coot, but he had his moments of wisdom. She was going to miss his little attempts at philosophy.

Kratos continued. “What we need is a push. A little nudge in the right direction - just to start him off.”

Hada looked disappointed. “Our little display wasn’t enough.”

“Not entirely, but the attack on the ministry was a nice touch. He needs to feel...”

“What we need is resolution.” Severina was aware Kratos hated being interrupted, but she knew with an absolute certainty neither of them had what this conversation needed most: female intuition; and she had it in abundance.

Kratos raised an eyebrow. “You have something in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. We have the motive and the perpetrator, just not the act.” She pulled one of the precious files Kratos had been reading earlier and pointed to one specific mugshot. “Have him attempt to kill his sister. Make it noisy. Once the boy sees this and hears the girl’s pathetic squeals, he’ll come around.”

Hada could not hide a certain admiration about him. “That’s... actually pretty good! But you don’t have to be so nasty about it. I mean the girl is only, what, eighteen?”

“Nineteen. And have you heard her voice? She sounds like a high- strung poodle begging for treats!” She made a face. “Can’t stand it!”

Kratos gave a chuckle. “You’ll have to. For now.” He went over the file. It was an old acquaintance of his - and the police force. A clumsy separatist who failed to break into the palace twice. Now he was kept in it permanently, in a prison cell, in the underground levels. “Hada, make sure he escapes and finds instructions to carry out an assassination. Poison. He’ll bring a poisoned hot chocolate.”

Hada caught up and finished the logical steps. “The guards will know he’s not supposed to be there since Bialous and Silidia are already asleep. He’ll struggle and make a fuss! They wake up, go outside to see what’s going on-”

“Yes, here’s a cookie for you getting it this far.”

Kratos lifted a firm hand to end the verbal sniping. There were more important things to deal with than personal grudges.

A few rays of sunshine coming through the curtains awoke Bialous. A servant girl came gently knocking at the door to bring him breakfast shortly thereafter. He had no idea how they could have known, but they brought him exactly what he preferred: Corn Flakes with strawberries, a warm milk, and buttered pancakes. Despite living the better part of his twenty five years in London, the traditional British breakfast never gained much traction with him. Although it was delicious, it didn’t have any effect on him - he was emotionally drained following yesterday’s events, not to mention having only gotten a few hours of sleep.

Bialous was still shaken every time he remembered his sister screaming in the hallway as the guards kept a man holding a mug at gunpoint. It’s the kind of surreal thing he’d seen in films, never in real life - and now those threats were literally knocking at the door.

He was given a formal black suit for the occasion, with bright sash sporting the vivid red and yellows of the Sutlanan flag. He found the jacket to have a military style cut he instantly disliked, but had no alternatives to wear.

General Kratos came to meet him before escorting him back to the study downstairs. He too was wearing a black suit, although in his case, lined with a dozen badges and insignias highlighting his military career in service of Bialous’ father.

“Good to see you, sir. We have much to do before the ceremony begins. Also, you will be glad to know the assassin has confessed his intentions. He revealed a great deal, including his connections to your uncle -” They walked down a long staircase, flanked by two armed guards. “Whom we have brought to see you, as you requested.”

Bialous stopped and turned to face the general. “Connected to my uncle? You mean they knew each other?”

“More than that, I fear. The whole transcript is on your desk, but suffice it to say he had personally sent him to infiltrate the palace.”

Bialous recalled the face he saw on television the previous night and began to feel a focused hatred grow in him. Still, he tried to keep it in check: he wanted to hear what his uncle had to say first.

“I strongly recommend you reconsider this, though. He has a known record, which I took the liberty of also putting on your desk. The ceremony will begin at ten, so there is no hurry. Also, if I may sir, I would recommend you sign an order before the ceremony to send a strong message to those rioters. Hopefully it should dissuade them from giving in to further violence.”

“An order? Wouldn’t arresting them be enough?”

“Of course, but that is only a short-term measure. You are about to step into the hallways of power. You need to project strength to be respected, especially at this fragile time of transition. The people need to know they have a leader.” He smiled reassuringly. “Do not worry, sir. This is a simple matter, and one that can easily cement your position if well executed. Why, I recall the day the Glorious Father had ascended to become our leader. I was not a general then, but I was tasked to help your father understand what exactly he was facing at the time. It is my hope you will permit me to do the same for you.” He bowed respectfully.

“I suppose so.” Having a mentor seemed like an excellent idea at this point. He still had many reservations, especially considering he had little knowledge of his own country, but if his father had done so, then so could he.

Bialous sat once more at the desk and opened the files the general had brought for him. There was no doubt uncle Kiron had been busy cosying up to separatists and extremist groups over the years; some even related to terrorism. This in itself was no crime, but as one note from a spy mentioned “but how long until he pushes enough people into violence?” One file in particular struck him. It was a collection of posters and pamphlets from a group called the Freedom Collective. They all revolved around the same subject: how Bialous’ father betrayed the nations’ ideal and ‘murdered freedom’. This gave him a burst of rage as he remembered it was his father who had pulled the country out of misery, building free schools and hospitals - the hypocrites!

Then there was the transcript. A man named Meletos had infiltrated the palace, received instructions once inside and tried to murder his sister with a poisoned drink. The picture was undoubtedly the man he saw only a few hours ago outside the bedroom, although a few years younger; this had probably been planned for a long time. Bialous was glad he didn’t talk for very long with Silidia last night. Had they done so the assassin might have gotten to her in time before she went to bed - the guards might have let him through then.

“Bring him in.” He ordered, taking in a deep breath.

General Kratos bowed his head and motioned to general Hada, who immediately left the room. Moments later, the man was brought in, hands shackled, looking like he had spent a rough night. His eyes landed on Bialous. He recognized his uncle’s vigorous stare immediately, even if the face he remembered from his youth seemed vaguely familiar.

Kiron sneered, but didn’t move to look away. “Kratos. The Glorious Father’s lapdog... you’re barking up the wrong tree again, I see.”

General Kratos walked to him slowly. “I’d be more careful if I were you. You should be grateful the Prodigal Son has granted you this moment to explain yourself, maybe even show some remorse over your decades of insolence. I wouldn’t have hesitated to-”

“You had your chances, little chihuahua. It’s a shame you can’t even hit what you’re aiming at when you piss.”

Bialous intervened before tensions became too high. “General Kratos, please leave us. I would like to discuss this in private.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking at Bialous, then bowed in consent. “Of course, Prodigal Son.”

Bialous waited to speak until the doors were closed behind him. “Uncle Kiron.”

“Bialous. It has been... twenty years now?” The corner of his mouth turned to a smile. “You’ve grown.”

“Care to explain the riots, uncle?” The words didn’t come out quite as he had expected, but he stared back. There was something that made him suddenly very uncomfortable. He didn’t know exactly what was more off-putting: the fact he was his uncle or associated to terrorists.

Kiron took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Bialous, I know I never saw eye to eye with your father. In fact I had many disagreements with him, it’s true.”

“And my mother...” he added quickly.

“Yes, and my sister. I didn’t want her to get hurt by the events going on around her. I was glad when she left with you, in a way. At least you would all be safe.”

Bialous took a moment to think. “Is that why you joined a terrorist group? To keep us safe?” His hand clenched into a ball of rage.

“Is that what they call it?” He gave indignant grunt. “Anything to justify repression...”

“Well?”

“Bialous, I don’t have much time to explain everything, but you have to understand many people have suffered under your father’s government. We cannot live in fear of criticizing, hell, even thinking the wrong things about... about anything these days! Has Kratos even told you about the prisons?”

“So you resort to violence to get your point across? I saw those crowds yesterday. They looked like they wanted to kill.”

Kiron gave a sigh. “Not one of my proudest moments, no. I’ve never killed anyone, Bialous. I’m not like that!”

“No, but your words certainly seem to make others want to!” Bialous found his thoughts were coming more fluidly to him as the conversation progressed. This gave him an empowered surge of confidence and focused his anger.

“We don’t target civilians, Bialous! We only want the government to back off!”

This sounded far too much like the same practiced excuses Bialous had heard other terrorists say in interviews in the BBC. He slammed his fist on the table. His patience had just been depleted.

“And what would you call my sister then? Collateral damage?” His voice boomed across the room.

“What?”

“Are you going to deny that you sent this man... this murderer, to infiltrate the palace?” He threw the profile sheet over the desk. Kiron didn’t say anything at first.

“Thats not what it seems, Bialous, you have to listen to me! I sent him here, yes, but not to kill anyone!”

“Really? Because he freely admitted to wanting to kill her.” Bialous felt he was in control now, his outrage wasn’t getting the best of him, but driving his a sense of purpose in him.

“I’d never do that! You must believe that much!” He took a step forward, then thought better of it and stopped. “Bialous, can’t you see Kratos is setting us up?”

Their eyes met in an awkward silence, each studying the other before Kiron looked down.

“I’m going to lead Sutlana. I can’t let its citizens come to harm if I can help it. That includes Silidia.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know yet, uncle...” Bialous found it impossible to say his name now.

As if from a memorized choreography in another life, his left hand automatically reached for a button on the phone - a gesture he had never done before but performed flawlessly. A female voice came on the intercom. “Please tell general Kratos to return.”

Kiron was taken away by the two guards and the general took a seat next to Bialous. They both sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts. Finally, Kratos broke the silence. “These things are never easy, sir.”

Bialous shook his head and sighed. “No they’re not. He doesn’t even deny allying himself the assassin!”

“Such is the impudence of those who think they know better. I have seen this happen several times before. Your uncle, however, has never wavered from his... insistence to associate himself with criminals, despite our best efforts to dissuade him.”

“How could my father deal with any of this?”

“With great confidence, sir. Of course, this came with experience and good guidance. In time, you too will know.”

“We must stop him somehow. How long can we keep him in prison?”

General Kratos laid another folder on his desk. “Prison, sir? I fear this is going too far. Harsher measures must be taken, I’m afraid.”

“Harsher? What do you suggest then?” Bialous could not think of what he meant. General Kratos opened the folder and held the golden pen, extending it to him. Bialous could not quite believe what he read at first. “I... we can’t do that! He’s family!”

General Kratos gave him his small, tight reassuring smile. “We are your family, sir. The Glorious Father made us who we are thanks to his guidance. Those who, like your uncle, have extricated themselves from the path have chosen their own Fate.” There was a momentary pause hanging between them before he concluded. “Even in prison, he can recruit more criminals. You saw how bloodthirsty they were last night. And then how long will it be before... well. You know what I mean, sir.”

He read the sheet again. “Is this even legal?”

“You have absolute power, Prodigal Son.”

Bialous took the pen, his mind a haze of uncertainty. He thought about the riots on the news, the pamphlets, terrorist attacks, the angry shouts. From between the double doors, Bialous saw his sister walk in with Minister Severina at her side, her long hair flowing exactly as he remembered so many years ago, back when she was happy. Time froze in that instant and the warmth of summer surrounded him. In the distance he could hear her careless laughter - and the echoes of his father whispering in his final moments “Keep her safe.”

And then he knew exactly what he had to do.

The final line read “I, Bialous Haaz, Prodigal Son of the Glorious Father and leader of Sutlana do hereby sentence Kiron Vanu to death for the crime of inciting hatred, violence and terrorist acts against the State and its people.”