The Velvet Knight

As the sun was moving towards late afternoon, the General’s footsteps rang across the empty corridors of the mansion. An eerie silence dogged each step, as if nature was holding its breath, waiting for the General to express his will.

Dreaming! Click…

Praying! Clack…

Yearning! Click…

Starving! Clack…

It was a special day, today, a monumental day… liberation day! Eight of July 2030, the day the World stood still, the day when fifteen years ago the General had marched his armies across Batna with forceful passion towards freedom, safety and prosperity.

Hope! Click…

Love! Clack…

Happiness! Click…

Fulfilment! Clack…

Each step echoed with the embodiment of the creator, powerful, virile, just… unyielding. General Alexander, envoy to the future, to growth… to an earthly paradise.

‘My liege!’ said the guard, driving her knuckled hand to her left breast.

‘How are you, Mary?!’ asked the General.

‘I am fine, General! It’s been such a lovely day, today! We are being blessed!’ she answered.

‘God gives to those who earn it, my dear. And you are all deserving of his love!’ said the General.

‘Thank you, my liege!’

‘Would you be so kind and open the door now, Mary!’ said the General.

‘Yes, my liege!’

‘Thank you, Mary!’

Beyond the door, an immense hall opened up; the General’s quarters. The furnishing was sparse but tasteful, intimate yet functional, as per the General’s direct request. Snug, colorful rugs arranged in intricate patterns met his first step. Their purpose clear, masterfully executed and a joy to chase and understand. They muffled the General’s steps as he carried himself to the center of the room where a bell sat on a table.

The General touched it gently, and in the room’s silence turned and headed towards the far-reaching windows to his right. The General preferred this view above all others in his Batna: a scattering of oaks embraced the slope towards an emerald lake. Just beyond, the foliage grew dense as a cacophony of vegetation transformed into a dense forest, whose curvy arms could be seen swaying towards Batna’s capital: Libertá. And all of this magnificence was resting safely in the arms of Batna’s enormous mountain range, Guardatu.

The General sighed deeply… painfully! From those mountains his army had descended fifteen years ago and fought the Butcher and his cohort of devils, putting an end to the atrocities he had wrought upon his land. With God’s help, they were victorious, slaying the Madman and issuing an era of prosperity in Batna, the likes of which the world had never seen.

‘My liege!’ a voice called out from behind him.

‘Victor! How are you?’ asked the General.

‘Great, my liege! This day has been truly blessed.’ answered the majordomo.

‘God rewards all those worthy of his love.’

‘He is rewarding beyond measure. How may I serve you, my liege?’

‘Is everything ready for tonight?’

‘Yes! The crowds are already gathering on the esplanade. Our youths have been attending the games since early morning and the Redeemer has already been decided.’

‘Good! Who is he?’

‘No one of importance, my liege.’

‘Every Redeemer is of importance, Victor!’

‘Without a doubt, my liege. I just meant to say that he’s not from any standing family…’

‘I understand,’ said the General. ‘Neither was I, or Christian for that matter.’

‘Of course, my liege,’

‘Where is he from?’

‘Praeta, up in…’ the majordomo’s answer was cut short by the General’s fiery reply.

‘In the mountains, below Cacciadore’s Peak. Did you know that the youth in that area climb that peak before they’re eighteen, Victor?’ he asked.

He had been standing with his back to the majordomo up until now, every fragment of his being caught in the fading light beyond his gaze. Every time he had to turn away, it felt as if he was turning away from himself, his dreams, his creation… his child. The Butcher’s reign had sapped the country dry of any hope towards a future, children had been turned into killers, women had been sold into slavery, the earth had been poisoned and its riches used to bring comforts only to the fat and wealthy.

The Butcher had used illiteracy both as a weapon and as a tool, and through it he had built himself a country to inspire even his medieval paragons.

‘I did not,’ answered the majordomo.

‘Few do, Victor. Few do!’ answered the General, regret flowing gently behind his eyes.

‘Yes, my liege!’ said the majordomo.

‘Batna’s blood is still strong, Victor! This new Redeemer proves it, the strength he’ll bring to my personal guard is indisputable. Our mountains will always provide for us, remember that if anyone questions this young man’s standing.’

The majordomo smiled at this last remark of his General, and inclined his head slightly, acknowledging his liege’s wisdom. Alexander’s decrees had pulled Batna’s people from their darkness, teaching them a new kind of freedom; freedom of the mind… freedom to dream… freedom to be content… freedom to live.

‘Please bring me the ceremonial suit, the white one with velvet lapels,’ said the General.

‘Yes, my liege!’

The General put little value on ceremony, but it had its uses. Today’s use? To never forget! Neither the sacrifice of those that came before us, neither of those that still struggle amongst us. Victory and freedom are bought with blood, and those that shed it need to be remembered, for their lessons to continue to live on protecting those that come after them.

The majordomo returned and hung the suit next to the giant mirror near the center of the room.

‘Shall I help you dress, my liege?’ asked the majordomo.

‘No, Victor! I need to be alone before I emerge. See that everything is in order with the ceremony and everyone is attended to.’ said the General.

‘Right away, my liege!’ said the majordomo, before retreating.

The General approached the mirror wearily, as if fearing what he would find there. He was of medium build, with broad shoulders forged in the hard labour of a frugal youth. His hair had gone completely grey over the years, but his beard still retained the color and thickness that had fueled many women’s passions. He undressed gingerly, the criss-cross of scars upon his back and arms shining in the fading light of dusk. The General was no longer young, but his body remembered it and rebelled at the passing of days, filling him with comfort and courage, renewing his vows.

He stood there, naked… and watched himself reflected in the golden rimmed surface.

Brothers… Sisters… I come before you as a man! I come before you not as Your General, but as Your Servent!

He breathed deeply, allowing his lungs to fill to the brim with the sweet-scented air from a nearby candle.

A humbled man, a man who has known death… pain… misery. Just like all of you!

And exhaled, losing himself in the way the energy from that breath caressed his muscles, flowing and emptying him of tension.

I have known pain, brothers and sisters. The pain of losing a country to a Madman, the pain of losing my future, the pain of losing myself.

In…

But through that pain and only in that pain, I had a vision.

Out…

A vision of a new home… a new country. A new future! Our future!

In…

I was not alone in that vision. Oh no! Just like me, thousands of our countrymen dared to dream fifteen years ago!

Out…

And from that dream, our Redeemer was born!

And in… and as he pulled the air, he could feel his hackles rise.

Christian was my brother, your brother… and through his sacrifice… through all our sacrifices… a new Batna was born.

Out…

Through my sacrifice, brothers and sisters. I have continued our Redeemer’s legacy and brought forth a future without sacrifice. Without pain, without violence.

In…

I have brought us all… FREEDOM!!!

And out…

Through this last breath, the General felt prepared to meet his people. He had grown old, yes… but his strength remained. He had grown grey, yes… but his fire still burned. He was still who they needed him to be… and they should never forget it.

He was still… himself.

Donning the suit, he felt empowered by every article added and every button closed. It did not feel like clothing, but a suit of armor. One that would hold his and Christian’s legacy together for hundreds of years to come.

The balcony towering above the esplanade was in the northern wing of the mansion. The closer he came to it, the more he brimmed with energy, fueled by the gathering outside, their collective hum increasing with each step he took.

Finally… he stood once more above them… his children.

In…

‘Brothers and sisters…’ the General began.

And as a spark had just ignited, the crowd burst forth…

‘Murderer!’

‘Tyrant!’

‘Butcher!’

‘Traitor!’