3.24: The Messiah’s Gift

“No, no, no.”

My heart sank.

This was bad. Really bad.

“Jack?”

“Goddamnit, Lothar!”

“Language.”

“Shut up! This could ruin everything!”

He just stood there, staring at me.

“How?”

I took a long breath, forcing myself to calm down.

“I’m trying my best to create an impersonal state, one that isn’t dependent upon a single leader, and you are attaching it to one man. No, even worse! An image!”

I jabbed a finger at him.

“You weren’t there in Nebelhain. Entire villages had been burned down to ashes by men clawing for the seat of a tiny, poor barony. If we hadn’t gotten to Althafen in time, the nobles there would have burnt the whole city down in their infighting.”

His face blanched, while I continued.

“All because they didn’t have a system that could withstand the absence of one single man! What you are doing is even worse!”

“How?”

“You are presenting me as not just a ruler, but a Messiah! Who is going to oppose the man chosen by God himself?”

“You want to be opposed?”

“Yes! I at least want people to openly tell me what is bothering them, not hide it because a Messiah could never be wrong!”

“What if the opposition gets strong?”

“I will manage somehow. I have weapons and loyal men, right?”

“You’re taking unnecessary risks.”

“No, me becoming some mythical figure is a much bigger risk! If our nation is founded upon devotion instead of law, it will not survive beyond me. Someone in the next generation only has to convince enough people that he is my successor, and the whole country will fall into his pocket. So please, stop exploiting people’s beliefs like that.”

“What if…” He hesitated, before looking me in the eyes. “What if you truly are the Messiah?”

“It does not matter! Institutions based upon charisma either don’t survive beyond the man, or morph into terrifying abominations. I’m trying to build a country, not a religion, damnit! The more you exalt me, the more people will expect of me, and I’m not all-powerful. What if someone comes to me with their dying child in their arms, begging me to cure her?”

“Couldn’t you?”

“No!”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I think—” I stammered. “I think I can eventually make a medicine that can cure some of the ailments, but it’s no magic panacea.”

He sighed, his shoulder slumping.

“Fine. I won’t push it in everyone’s face, but I still think it’s silly to not use it to bind our people together. Besides, they already believe in your divine status.”

“I can’t do much about what they believe, but I don’t want you or anyone else feeding it further.”

He inclined his head in reluctant acceptance.

As we began crossing the courtyard, he stepped closer.

“How are you doing?” he whispered. “I can tell you are not used to this… kind of violence.”

His eyes flicked to the gallows. The nooses hung limply from the beams, stirring faintly in the breeze.

“Neither are you.”

He suppressed a smirk.

“I think you are missing a lot of memories. My father… he was not a good man. He made me watch and do many terrible things. To toughen me up. To make me a real man.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“I’m fine,” I finally said, “It had to be done.”

He nodded.

Soon, we found ourselves standing before the Military headquarters.

My feet stopped.

Aprilia stepped closer.

“Does it have to happen today?” she asked.

“Not necessarily,” I replied.

“Then don’t,” she said softly, her fingers slipping through mine. “You’re—there have already been enough deaths today.”

“You want me to just let them wait in anticipation?”

Beautiful silver-gray eyes held mine.

“I don’t care about Hyde.” Her grip tightened. “I care about you.”

Some of the tension left me.

I sighed in relief, then nodded.

“Fine,” I said, turning to Lothar.

“Let’s do it tomorrow.”

The next morning, I sat atop the bastion that was my home, while the Ducklings sat around me.

Given the last day’s events, we focused on discussing politics rather than the usual science and technology.

Fresh mountain air blew over us, as it rang with the noise of hammers, chisels and men grunting as they lifted large blocks of stone with wooden cranes and placed them on the wall, filling the gaps with lime mortar.

The people still weren’t happy about resources being allocated away from the construction of their own homes, but our massive shell keep of a castle would provide shelter for almost a thousand of them during the winter and security for us all, should we need it, so I had prioritized it over the insulae.

“Master, why did you give exactly half of the voting power to the common people?” Aldren asked out of nowhere.

The others gasped loudly, as if he had committed blasphemy.

I couldn’t help but smirk.

His habit of blurting out words before his brain caught up with them was going to get him in trouble someday. I hoped I could cure him of it.

“Not exactly half; the Elders also come from the people. But back to your question: I wanted a balance between representation and long-term planning.”

“The representatives can’t do that?”

“They can, if, and only if, the people electing them understand their circumstances. Our people aren’t there yet. I want them to be well educated before I hand the keys to them.”

“More than half of our adults are literate,” he said proudly.

“That’s not enough. Not even remotely. It takes a much more thorough education to understand long-term policies. Their consequences can take years to bear fruit, while the side-effects, on the other hand, have a bad habit of appearing immediately.”

I leaned forward.

“So if the representatives support policies whose long-term benefits the average person doesn’t understand, but does bear the immediate costs, what do you think will happen?”

“They… will lose the people’s support?”

“Yes, and how many people would have the courage to still do it anyway?”

“They should just stand up for the right thing!” Fennar said indignantly.

I suppressed a laugh.

“Easy to say. Hard to do. Power is one hell of a drug; and not an easy one to give up.”

His expression faltered.

“If educated people rule wisely, why didn’t the nobles help us?” Tobin asked.

“Because education is not wisdom. It’s not enough.”

If it had been, the Germans, who were one of the most educated people of their times, wouldn’t have supported the Nazis, even when they were open about their intentions, nor would Argentina be such a basket case.

“You also need a mature administration and judiciary,” I continued. “Building all that will take time. A lot of time. On top of all that, our circumstances are rather unique.”

“They are?” Frida asked.

“Very. I am going to transform our nation into something this world has never seen. And I can’t even explain the details to everyone. Not unless I want our enemies to know about them as well.”

Their eyes grew as big as saucers.

“You haven’t told anyone about the powder, right?”

They all shook their heads.

“Good. So when people lack all that knowledge, how can they make the right decisions?​ They can’t. Until then, the Council must have members who can make difficult but necessary decisions, without having to agonize whether they’ll be popular or not.”

My plan wasn’t foolproof by any means. Deng Xiaoping’s technocrats established the foundation of a strong China, but also made a massive blunder with the One-child policy. I hoped that my knowledge, combined with the Cha’s personal experiences, would lead to the best of both worlds.

Going full democratic was not an option.

Not yet.

“Or are you just a power addict in denial?” a small voice whispered in my head.

I shifted uncomfortably.

Shut up, brain.

“You could just tell them to do what’s right.” Runa said meekly. “You are our Messiah.”

“No.”

The word came out sharper than I had intended.

I softened my voice. “I am more knowledgeable, Runa. That doesn’t mean I’m perfect. That’s why we must have the Council. It will be the seed for a proper government that can run without a Messiah.”

For the seeds to flourish, first I had to remove the weeds.

As the sun reached its zenith, hidden by gray clouds, I stared at the red cedar wood of the sturdy door of the Military headquarters.

Besides me, Aprilia squeezed my hand.

“You really want to accompany me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her silver-gray eyes not leaving mine.

“Alright.”

The hinges squeaked as we entered the common room.

Yara and Hyde sat on benches, under the watch of half a dozen soldiers.

Rafiel stood nearby, rigid as a spear, which was usual for him, next to Emma, white as a sheet, and old Matilda, stoic as a rock.

Hyde was calm as a still pond, while Yara’s hands couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Did you make it?” I asked the old woman.

She nodded, handing me the bowl in her hands.

I lifted the lid and breathed in the aroma deeply.

A faint itch announced itself in my throat.

Just like that night.

I handed it back to her. “Please divide it into two strong doses.” I hesitated. “And… I should have asked earlier; are the effects painful?”

“No,” Matilda croaked. “The patient just falls asleep.”

And with a strong enough dose, never wakes up.

I nodded in response.

She knew what she was doing.

“What’s that?” Yara asked, barely above a whisper.

I turned towards her.

“A taste of your own medicine.”

I immediately regretted those words.

“I didn’t want the people suddenly gaining sympathy for you,” I explained. “A frightened woman being dragged to her death by a group of big, burly men might have made them forget why you were being executed.”

Her face lost what color remained.

Besides her, Hyde said nothing.

As Matilda poured the concoction into two cups, Hyde clasped his hands together, closed his eyes and began praying.

Yara, on the other hand, began shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Suddenly, she bolted for the door.

The soldiers were faster.

They seized her arms before she had taken five steps, jerking her backwards. She thrashed against them, heels scraping against the stone floor.

“Lemme go!”

While she struggled, Hyde slowly opened his eyes.

He walked up to Matilda at a languid pace and took one of the earthen cups from her hands.

Then, he turned to face me.

His electric-blue eyes met my much duller ones.

Neither of us spoke.

He raised the cup.

“I truly hope that you know what you are doing, Supreme Leader.” His voice was stripped of all the fury that had defined him.

“For the sake of all Cha.”

With that, he tipped the cup and swallowed its contents in one long gulp.

A red drop clung to his silver beard.

He wiped it away.

“Don’t forget your promise, or I will haunt you.”

“I won’t.”