TEP Chpt 20

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 20 - Forward==
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===Faithful Meeting ===
Atreus, Marik CommonwealthFree Worlds League2733
Abdullah Ottovordemgentschenfelde'
Master Boris had anticipated this meeting for a long time. Nearly a month had passed since the fall of Atreus, and since then he had been worrying himself sick of what to say or do with Bertram Marik. I didn't see the issue. Bertram was unworthy of his time. For Justice's sake, he should just let the man die.
 
But he wouldn't listen to me. Bertram and he, were close. Almost like brothers. His years spent under the tutelage of the Hegemony had done him well, only those close to him could see the minute differences between his normal quiet self and now, his more sullen countenance.
 
The drive to Bertram's prison was uneventful and quiet. The heavy air of anticipation clung to us like a jungle's humid fog. Past the glittering lights of Atreus City was coastal woodland. Like so many frontier colonies before it, Atreus City was built where there was a bounty of wood, metal, water, and farmland. Of course, the gentle Ionian midland temperate climate helped immensely.
 
I decided on a slower, scenic route, passing by the vista sights of white sand beaches framed by gently swaying trees. I spied him in the rearview mirror, watching the background pass by. Hopefully, he would calm down some when we reach the villa.
 
Bertram's house arrest ironically placed him in the very same villa that we used to house Canopus MechWarriors during the reunification war. Back then, it was used as a means of convincing the Canopians of the sincerity and benefits of the Star League, of unity. Now, it's his jail for having unified the League against him.
 
Taking my chance, I interrupted the silence hanging over us. "You know, I haven't seen you this contemplative since your father died." Boris and his father were close. It made sense, he was an only child to a single father in an unfamiliar nation. For all that the Terran Hegemony was welcoming, it was still foreign to little Boris. That's why Oliver stepped up. He saw a child in need, and did what he thought was right.
 
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
 
"It certainly feels the same," he replied bitterly. "I can't help but feel this war was predestined. That either I or my cousin were always meant to die by the other's hand."
 
Breathing in deeply, he sighed a heavy sigh coming from his soul. "I really thought I had it all figured out," he softly said. "That the war everyone saw was coming was averted by the old hands' successors." Though I couldn't see, I could hear him quietly sobbing. "Look at me. What would dad say… I should give up."
 
"He would quote Atatürk," I stated confidently, hoping to distract him with humor. The snort from behind the seat said I was successful.
 
"He would, wouldn't he."
 
Striking while the iron was hot, I pressed further. "In fact, I know exactly what words he would quote: 'The necessary thing for anyone to be happy and contented as long as he lives is working for the ones who will come after him rather than working for himself—'"
 
"'One can reach the true delight and happiness in the life only by working for the existence, honor, and happiness of the future generations.'" Boris finished.
 
"Destiny or not, the problems of today were created by human hands. And, it is by human actions that they will be resolved." I took a hand off the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror to look him directly in the eyes. "Your father would say not to give up. Not just for the citizens that depend on you, but especially for yourself. You are so much like your father. Like you, it was always his dream to see the people of the League uplifted from their apathy."
While the tears stopped flowing, Boris was still in his morose mood. Though it wasn't as bad as just a few seconds ago. When he turned his face back to watching the scenery pass by, I recognized the way that his jaws clenched. It was the same when he first swore his oath.
 
"Thank you," he whispered.
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===What should do if you fail?===
It was the most famous villa in all the League. At three stories high, it was constructed in classical Victorian era style. The wood and brick that made up the structure was hand made and processed. It would be then assembled, also by hand, using the techniques of that ancient era to modern standards.
 
At over 300 years old, Casa Tres Souls was remarkably well-preserved.
 
We were greeted by the Parliamentary Guards serving as Bertram's jailers and his security detail. Unlike those at the Capitol Hill, these men and women were heavily armed and armored. I spied one of them wearing an exosuit, lugging a vee grade machine gun, patrolling the front gardens.
 
Parliament was taking Bertram's security very seriously. There was most likely more that I couldn't see despite my education in Foley's Finishing School and experience. It was obvious no expense was spared to ensure that he would answer for his crimes.
 
A short talk with what appeared to be a concierge had us taking a lift to the top floor. As we walked down through the hallway, I marveled quietly at the sheer history on display. Whoever took to decorating the floor before his arrival made sure to remind any walking through of the civic history of the League.
 
Lesser known, outside the purview of most province's educational curriculum, and yet deeply intertwined with the history of the League. The question of what does it mean to be a Leaguer was asked, answered, re-asked, re-answered, and redefined constantly, since the inception of the League to the modern day.
 
To my right, stretching across the entire length of the hallway, was a mural depicting Peter Marik II's entire saga with his peers in Parliament on passing the Liberation Act of 2448.
 
To my left was a more modest affair, but no less symbolic. Across the hallway's left were paintings of various points in history when Parliament and popular rhetoric tried to define citizenship as to exclude certain people. The most prominently displayed was MP Angela Marik's attempt to strip traitors of their citizenship, only for the proposal to be thrown out in the First Division of voting. No one save her voted for it.
 
It was petty and very on brand for the members of Parliament.
 
Opening the door at the end of the hallway revealed the office of Bertram's suite. There behind the French double doors, leaning on the weathered stone balcony overlooking the beach, stood Bertram.
 
I took my post away and to the side of the room, giving my master and his cousin space and a modicum of privacy. With only slight hesitation, Boris approached Bertram, the sea breeze gently blowing against his hair. Mimicking him, Boris leaned against the balconies stone railing, and watched the sea gently lap at the shore.
 
"Took your time, didn't you," Bertram started.
 
Sniffing at his cousin's disrespect, Boris replied, "I'd have gotten here faster if you weren't so high profile."
 
"Parliament dragged their heels on the approval process?"
 
"Yeah."
 
"Pfft. How typical of them." Bertram rolled his head, and presumably his eyes. "Even to a man above reproach or suspicion, they'll stick their oar in the gears of bureaucracy and prevent said man from seeing their family."
 
"Prevent?" queried Boris. "They didn't stop me, as you can clearly see." He waved at himself.
 
"No. They didn't. Or rather, nothing can really stop you," Bertram said softly.
 
At this, Boris stood there quietly, staring at his cousin.
 
Bertram turned his head to look at Boris. "You know, I've always admired you." I could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I admired you were driven in a way no one else I've known was. Always running, always learning, always volunteering to do this or that. There was a life to you that seemed bigger than whatever else the rest of us were dealing with."
 
Sighing, Boris returned to leaning on the stonework. "Death has a way of focusing your mind. And more importantly, reminding you how little time you truly have to live."
 
"It does, doesn't it," Bertram softly agreed. "Now that it is so close to me, I've never felt more alive." He then lowered his head to rest on his crossed arms. "Or so aware. Dear God, I'm so sorry, Boris. I — I've — I've lost sight and touch with myself. Exactly like mother."
 
Bertram's shoulders began to shake in the way one does when crying. Master Boris wrapped his arms around his cousin and bond-brother to squeeze reassurance into him.
 
"This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to put an end to Elise's madness. I was supposed to right the ship of state. To lead our people, especially the smallest of us all, unto glory unseen since Peter the Great. To rekindle the light, and bring back the age of great men and women." Bertram's choked voice was barely understandable through his tears. "Instead, I have burned that bright future in a nuclear pyre, following mother's footsteps." At those final words, the dam burst, and he wailed loudly and painfully.
 
How sweet of him to realize that… after obliterating several worlds.
 
They stayed like that for some time. Bertram cried, and Boris held him through the pain. Disgusted as I was with Bertram, I couldn't help but be proud of Boris. Even when dealing with a monster, he willingly gave kindness and reassurance. For all that death and destruction wrought by Bertram's hands, Boris still decides to be the better man.
 
I knew, I chose well in accepting Master Oliver's offer.
 
In time, Bertram's sobbing quietened. "Thank you for that," he said. "I understand I'm the last person deserving of such kindness. Still, thank you. Not just for this, but for when we met too," he continued.
 
Boris shook his head. "As I said before, you don't have to thank me for that. I was ju—"
 
"Just doing the right thing," Bertram interrupted, straightening up and turning to face Boris. "And nearly dying for it. For me."
 
Boris mimicked him. Both stood in silence, staring at each other. Before Bertram cut through the quiet. "Are you still following that fool's dream?"
 
Placing his hands on his hips, Boris glared down Bertram before answering with the full weight of his authority as Captain-General and Defender of the Realm, "Yes." One word, and a hundred meanings. Only the three of us on this floor understood them all.
 
Yes, it's difficult enough to be nearly impossible. Yes, he was still chasing it. Yes, it was possible. Yes, he was putting his money where his mouth was and making it a reality. Yes, he fully intended it to become real. Yes, his faith may not be rewarded, but that was a gamble he was willing to take.
 
Yes, his cause was an immense struggle, but Democracy was worth it.
 
All that and so much more went unsaid, yet heard clearly.
 
It was Bertram that broke first. He turned his head away, averting his eyes from Boris' intense stare. "You… Idiot. Even after seeing how the electorates act, after seeing how they prefer their 'elected' leaders to be all but kings, you still strive to revive a dead concept. The average man cares nothing about the balance of power. What they care about is getting what they want, and having someone to blame. Nothing but disappointment awaits. If it were otherwise, neither I nor my colleagues would have strived to fashion for the Free Worlds League an Enlightened Despot."
 
Boris stood there staring Bertram down for a few heartbeats before answering, "Don't care." When Bertram brought his eyes back to look into Boris' he flinched from the sheer intensity of the that glare. "If Parliament is the issue, I shall change Parliament. If the representatives are the issue, I shall change the hearts of the representatives. If the electorate is the issue, for being steeped in a culture of blind faith in authoritarians, then I shall change the electorate and its culture." He stepped forward and crossed his arms, tilting his head just so to make the weight of his words be felt. "Understand, I have made an oath. I do not break my oaths."
 
Bertram retreated back to leaning on the stonework. With fake nonchalance, he replied, "Than your task is more monumental than mine. Where I merely needed to lead the League, you must change every aspect of it, down to the individual citizen. You must break the power of the world-owners, the industrialists, political and military leaders of so many of our people. Despite their bickering, do act as one where their interests align.
 
"That isn't to mention the plebeians that see eye to eye with them. The Yeoman commoners are a functionally single voting block, while not nearly as powerful as the nobles, still own land and business. They are violently against anything they perceive might be a threat to their future ascendance to nobility, and are twice as vicious. Both of them together are the reason we have public education for assassins, saboteurs, and spies.
 
"All of that before your own personal jihad. To change the culture, the people must be willing to change. And to change for what? Backwards to something that hasn't been seen for centuries since the fall of the Alliance. A system of governance, literally derided for generations, as the cause of Humanity's First Fall. A struggle that is impossible to complete within a single lifetime. Don't you see? The whole League stands against you. Your struggle is futile."
 
Boris tisked. Still facing Bertram, he leaned against the stonework. "You haven't just lost sight and touch with yourself, Bertram. You've lost sight and touch with the League, too."
 
Boris paused speaking when Bertram snapped his head to look at him.
 
Why is he so surprised? He lived his whole life inside ivory towers, before, during, and after the civil war. A day in this villa cost more than my entire life's gross worth. And Parliament is using it for his house-arrest.
 
At his questioning glare, Boris resumed. "Practically, neither of the first two are true monoliths. Or my strategy would have changed drastically. There are wedge issues for all of them, that I am going to smash with the hand of Kali. Ultimately, I'll break the nobles into two camps, the bourgeoisie and the land dependent. The same is true for the Yeoman, the petite-bourgeoisie and the farmers and miners.
 
"Outside cold calculus, these people have hearts and minds like you and me. They are every bit as beholden to their emotions and principles as you or me. Perhaps even more so, considering how important image is in this era.
 
"As to the last. I have seen it with my own eyes, a budding Renaissance. People have begun to question accepted truth, especially the accepted truth of the First Fall. It won't be long before Intellectuals from every corner start stripping away the myths and superstitions of the past, then hollering their findings from the highest arcologies. Then. Then I won't have to do anything, they will do it for me, continuing my work long after I have passed away."
 
A weighty silence passed between them, as Bertram absorbed all that Boris said.
 
"You've stacked the deck."
 
"I am a Leaguer, if you recall. Unfair gambling is in my blood. All my years in the Terran Hegemony can't take that away from me," Boris said proudly. "After all, I don't intend to do all my work in the dark. To face my enemies in shadowed hallways and boardrooms. Eventually, I'm going to fight them all head on. And win."
 
Swallowing, Bertram replied, "And should you fail? Should you die?"
 
"Then I shall fail for all to see. I shall die standing for what I believed in. That might deter some, but someone will learn from my example, and succeed where I didn't."
 
"Martyr? You planned even for that?" Bertram said, shocked.
 
As if the two couldn't be more different. Of course he did. Unlike you, he actually believes in what he says.
 
"Bertram, I already had a brush with death once with you. And I always knew I was going to die." Boris put his hand on his cousin's shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I expected to die after having lost the civil war. Obviously, that hasn't happened. But I still know my death is coming. After having dedicated my life to what I believe, dedicating my death too isn't so different."
 
Bertram looked down at his hands. Sighing heavily, he stood up straight, looking to the horizon. "Then I shall do the same. The punishment that I have earned, I shall face with dignity. Not for myself, but for the League. They deserve that much in ending the monster I have become."
 
That hypocritical ass.
 
I bit back my reply, and clenched my teeth hard. It wouldn't do to ruin the moment for Master Boris.
 
After that, the two quietly watched the sun set. It was a gentle silence as they enjoyed their last moments together.
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