War. Famine. Plague.
The vast country of Ecclesia, like most other countries, had suffered a long history of devastating events, leading to a disastrous decline in the country's ruling monarchy. The King, his somewhat young face wrinkled with worry, refused to accept these problems as his own, turning a blind eye and blaming others vainly. In retaliation, many turned to lawlessness to combat the lack of action from the weak king, but most people, hoping everything would sort themselves out, waited patiently for somebody to change the course of history.
---
Avarice Crowne, flattening his clothes hurriedly and tidying his dark hair, strode confidently into the spacious lecture room, every noise magnified by hundreds of times. Immaculate paneled walls covered every side, showing years and years of the university's history, mimicking all the other grandiose buildings in the country's style.
He was here today on a crucial mission; one of the men who had agreed to join him in his cause for rebellion, a university professor with knowledge and cognitive abilities surpassing all the greats of the country, was the only hope he had when it came down to formulating the plot against the King. Theories, stories, and myths surrounded the mysterious man—he seemed to be the perfect strategist, an enigma unfathomable to humankind.
Approaching the sturdy lectern frowning down at him, Crowne asked, somewhat more timidly than he usually did, "Mr Grock?"
The man behind the lectern, his sharp aquiline face partially hidden by the falling shadows, stepped down.
"That would be me. You are Mr Crowne, I assume?"
Crowne nodded firmly, taking some time to get a good look at the man. Grock was thin, but his body radiated health; his curved nose, piercing eyes and thin mouth gave the impression of an overbearing vulture, which Crowne tried his best to ignore. The clothing and polished shoes were quite plain and although serviceable, seemed to have been worn for many years already.
"If I remember correctly, you wanted me to work under you to overthrow the King, isn't that correct?" asked Grock tartly with a frown.
"Yes, and there will be benefits for you as well," added Crowne hastily. "If we succeed, you will be in charge of the country as my advisor."
Grock seemed to be deep in thought. For a brief moment, Crowne felt a stab in his heart; what if Grock declined the job?
At last, Grock looked up and said, "Very well. I will help you, but not because of the benefits—I only want to serve under someone who will help bring me out of this monotonous life."
He ended his sentence with a thoughtful sigh. Just as Crowne turned to leave, Grock asked out of the blue, "Your reason for overthrowing the King isn't to bring peace but to rule in the King's stead, isn't it, Mr Crowne?"
Crowne stared at him open-mouthed. How did he know?
"You appear to be surprised," chuckled Grock mysteriously, turning to the door, beckoning for Crowne to join him. "From now on, don't worry, and do exactly as I instruct you."
Not at all assured but still hopeful in Grock's rumored abilities, Crowne tipped his grey top hat to him and said, "Goodnight then, Mr Grock. I will await your instructions.
---
Time passed away quickly and with it, so did the people's patience, especially the commoners, who not only had heavy taxes laid upon them but suffered from the lack of simple needs. More criminals, produced from the hunger vacuum from the monarchy's incompetence, sprang out from all over the country like an infectious disease and consumed the nobles from the countryside, towns, and even some major cities—nowhere remained safe from their spreading bloody influence.
When the news reached the King's ears inside the palace, he at once summoned Crowne, who was acting as his advisor at the time, and asked, "What do we do, Crowne? The servants have all lost faith in me, and you're the only one who can give me the answer."
Crowne pretended to be deep in thought, scratching his smooth chin ruminatively, while glancing around the richly decorated room.
The cavernous room, which was more of a hall than a room due to the giant arched ceiling and carefully chiselled doric pillars on the sides, gleamed with wealth; gilded mirrors shone in every corner, opulent purple carpet ran across the floor, covering every inch of the white marble in their patterned coat, and a shining gold chandelier on the top sparkled like clusters of coins glittering among an expanse of swirling white. This was evidently a room to impress guests, who were expected to sit on the elegantly padded couches.
Ignoring all the wealth demonstrated before his eyes, he began his rehearsed monologue.
"Firstly, we have to find out why your servants have abandoned you, Your Highness."
"That's hardly important. They rearranged my plans and made the people pay taxes early to infuriate them on purpose; they must have been the cause of this unrest! If I get my hands on them now…"
"Then the only way to save yourself is to expel them. Rid yourself of the traitors and put your trust in me and your loyal guard. I suspect the rebellious citizens will find a way to enter these sacred grounds sooner or later…"
"That was too easy," smirked Crowne to himself. "As long as he doesn't suspect me, everything else should run as smoothly as Grock had said."
An urgent messenger, who was secretly under Grock's wing after being harshly punished when the King was scourging his palace for traitors, rushed into their discussion, and shouted with a quivering voice, "The rebels have breached the palace grounds! They've broken down the gate and are heading this way! What do we do?"
Anguished, the King turned to Crowne, who at once responded with alacrity, "Take your family, Your Highness, and flee to a wagon I have prepared for you. We have prepared everything for you to blend in with the commoners and escape from the country."
Not having any other choice, the King took this piece of advice and fled, his high collar bobbing up and down as he dashed off to round up his household, who were still sleeping soundly in their beds, blissfully unaware of their dire situation.
Once the King's absence was clear, the messenger whispered to Crowne, "Mr Grock has advised you to kill the entire bloodline, sir. Here is his letter."
He produced a stained yellow piece of paper from his uniform jacket, handing it over to Crowne.
"I had already planned to wipe out his entire family from the beginning," smiled Crowne, his lips twisting maliciously as he read the letter.
Bloodlust rose from his heart, consuming him gradually. Soon, the country would be in his hands. Very soon…
---
With a gentle breeze blowing his rugged overcoat around to reveal his crisp suit on the inside, Grock stared out at the giant pale palace gleaming in the soft moonlight.
"Burn it down," he ordered the man next to him, who in turn, commanded his underlings to go up and drench the entire building in kerosene. Within minutes, bright orange flames flared up, engulfing the palace.
The colours of the desperate fire danced around in the night's palette of deep blue hues, mimicking a giant pool of orangy crimson blood trickling upwards to reach the sky.
"What now?" asked one of the grimy men, staring impatiently at the gradually blackening building, which was withering away, unrecognisable from its former grandeur.
"Now, we wait," responded Grock curtly, his thin lips shaped in a straight line. "Return to your homes. Tomorrow, we shall see the outcome in the newspaper."
And so they did, not without a few grumbles here and there, of course. The night quickly passed with the moon descending sorrowfully as if mourning the rapid deaths of the lynched nobles. In the newspaper the next morning, a shock rippled through the country, acting like a water droplet disrupting the tranquility of life.
Announced brazenly across every newspaper in the country, were the headlines:
ROYAL FAMILY FOUND DEAD, INNOCENT WAGON DRIVERS ALSO FOUND MURDERED
The culprits behind the innocent wagon drivers transpired to be a gang of patriotic criminals, who Grock had secretly allied with to take down the King. In an instant, the people's image of them crumbled and instead of viewing them as selfless heroes protecting the country as they once did, everyone turned their backs to them. This allowed Crowne, advised by Grock, to round up the unfortunate ones that laid behind and exterminate them, making him the only candidate for a seat in power.
Of course, the issue of the country's leader was brought up by the people, and Crowne, swaying the people through speeches and campaigns, captured the hearts of the citizens effortlessly, putting him in office as the first president of Ecclesia.
But one thing had never changed; corruption still lay within the country, passing down from the King to the victorious rebels, who bided their time to bring down the Ecclesian monarchy with countless peoples' blood, only to build up their strength upon the same violence.
It was the genesis of a new era!