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527BC 21ST Augusto
Oh diary, today I felt like writing an account of this plan. Perhaps I should have started a diary the day my thoughts about Meica began turning twisted and contorted, but I’m not late.
They are bound to call me foul and sick for what I plan to do. Do I care? No. Caring is only for those who have never faced death. I have. Right in its eyes, I promised it I would come for him one day, that his blood would be mine.
Many moons have passed ever since I left my homeland, or at least felt like I’ve been part of it. I have lived on the outskirts of this fake utopia for all my life hiding my true self. The son of Lanmir. The man that grew me up, neither weak nor soft of soul, in truth it took him great ease to continuously command his men forward. My father was a commander and at times the bravest this wretched city had to offer. But in this world people who are often the bravest and deserve the most for their selfless acts get treated like junk.
He was a revolutionist against the king, a man above the hierarchy, almost seen as a divine entity by his cowardly followers. Henry IV, the undomesticated barbaric dog that has been reigning over the people of Meica oppressively for years has made it simple. Either be one of his loyal soldiers or of his trusted assistants that cater to his every need. Else be ready to be treated worse than cattle. But funnily enough, I am one of those assistants after suppressing my hate for him.
But he doesn’t see my face, he doesn’t remember me as the kid who saw him order the decapitation of my father.
My father stood against this oppressive city and all the king stood for until his whereabouts were ratted out by the same people he was trying to protect. Two-faced snakes. His punishment? Decapitation visible to all. It wouldn’t have bothered me more than it was supposed to if the nation hadn’t visibly been content. All of them laughed and cheered the moment my father’s head blew off into the distance. At that moment I felt my heart explode under such discomfort and an itch so loud in my head that only worsened by the laughs of the people surrounding me. Giggles and laughter towards my headless father. Mocking him. Perhaps he had done something bad to these people I was unaware of but that’s simply impossible, these people were just cowards. That day I promised revenge on all these two-faced bastards and that horrific man who calls himself ruler.
I’ve begun searching for a nation to wipe Meica off the face of the earth, unfortunately, I just can’t do it alone.
I now call myself the man of many masks. Telling lies and telling truths and whatever is required in different cities with an army big enough to help me.
Anything to sprinkle chaos into Meica.
And now that you are up to date diary I have the ruler of Dimoria to persuade on the morrow…
527BC 25th Augusto
Another failure has fallen onto me today in the land of Dimoria, the people I thought would have acted out my revenge on my behalf were too weak-minded, not greedy and certainly not violent enough. Another failure. Weeks wasted for their incapacity to plan and for their stupidity to believe In me.
527BC 31th Augusto
Oh, great diary, I have found a different city not too far and this one promises well, on the morrow I am taking a voyage there and seeing it for myself, perhaps their ruler will be easy to manipulate once I become his right hand or give him the false knowledge he seeks, whatever it takes.
It’s annoying diary, but it will be worth it.
527BC 2nd Settebra
Oh, diary Isn’t it just beautiful when poor insignificant people will do anything for worldly items you own in abundance? I say that because I believe I have found the right people.
At first, when I entered Pechax everyone instantly thought of me as wealthy, those peasants had never once seen clothes which weren’t punctured with holes and of magnificent colours like mine, but funnily enough they had weapons, all seemed to have wielded something sharp within their filthy hands. A good sign. They instantly listened to what I had to say,
“How may I meet your ruler?” I remember requesting them. Instantly, what I’d later come to know as their leader’s fortress was pointed to me as if they saw some salvation to their problems with me… Nevertheless, it was easy to reach and even easier to enter. No guards. Almost isolated. With long thin webs and short thick piles of dust, the corridors and rooms mourned for a day they would be cleaned. If it weren’t for the leathered throne with wooden handrests he was sitting on, I would have had trouble believing I had entered a king layer. His face looked so pale and troubled.
I requested what I always did to every king.
“Lend me your army for In return a promiscuous land.” No hesitation.
I remembered his confused expression, understandable. Not every day do you see a shining man walk through your trembling doors and request such a bizarre feat. That pale old “King” then took to his feet questioning me. I would normally be of polite nature to someone that could be so helpful but this individual resembled nothing of a king, only a mere poor man that had a lot of men. Useful men. Which I needed. But he was a rightful man. After he understood my request and what it meant to invade and kill another city he didn’t want to be involved in such a bloody conquest. Respectable, but I just couldn’t care, this was a golden ticket. I needed them and their poorly fed body seemed to have needed my resources—Meica’s resources.
I was done searching the land for armies that could help me in my quest for revenge. So I did what I do best. Manipulated him into thinking that if his people didn’t have food then they’d soon have their king's blood instead, and surprisingly it worked. This king was rightfully scared. The moment I had walked into this barren land I had felt a tension between the people and this “king”. Hunger almost certainly leads to unforgivable actions, I know, I’ve felt it on my skin. In this case, a revolution is to be carried out against their “king”.
But I assured him this revolution would have happened to a different king.
527BC 25TH Settebra
Oh diary, I have finally returned to my land victorious, after a month of continuous travel back and forth between my land and Pechax I have managed to conclude what could have only been a dream pact.
They are not the strongest I’ve seen, but they are numerous, that’s what matters, and with the swords they all seem to have it will suffice. Apparently, they were thrown as waste into their city with other trash and they scavenged it to find what they felt was useful. In this case swords… Sure, whatever works. With a king atop a land that rots and reeks of intoxicating fumes, he was bound for his starving and irritated people to follow me on this quest. On a quest to find a solution to the “poverty” that afflicted his people. Just a matter of time and negotiation. That’s all it takes to kill. Extreme survival conditions; and a people who already believed he was a selfish king keeping plenty of food supplies to himself.
That last bit I may have had something to do with…
Regardless, they will not back down. They can’t. These Pechax are greedy people who would never back down from a land so breathtaking as Meica. With its crystal clear river that runs through its core, with so many well-erected houses dotted across its fields, with each one filled with blacksmiths and leatherworkers and farmers and tool smiths and weaponsmiths and—Yes, it’s enough. After the complete and utter destruction of people, all those houses will be empty, ready to be given to Pechaxians to fulfil their economy. It’s perfect. The motive is perfect. And their men are plenty. With my help, it won’t be of any difficulty. I promised them the gates of Meica open upon their arrival during the night. After years of being a kiss-ass and strategically getting closer to him I have become one of Henry’s most trusted assistants and because of that with me lie the keys of these fortified walls.
Its people and its king for so many years have solely been protected by these walls. Not its soldiers but its walls. Soldiers here are weak.
I just need to finalise this bloodbath. It’s all up to me now diary, to bring them here.
527BC 12RD Ottobra
It is done! Oh, diary It has all been planned. Soon I will avenge my father, a father who was far greater than every living being within these walls, every single person who laughed at the man who stood up against tyranny. A father so
Better if I stop myself there. He’s dead. Nothing to remember more than I already have for these years. Nothing can bring him back. But this will avenge him, I have promised Pechaxians the gates opened at their nightly arrival and the vast army that will march through the gates of Meica will establish graves for children men and women alike and hydrate this uncalmable thirst for the blood of Meicans I have gathered over the years.
I won’t take credit until Henry’s head dangles before me, however. I don’t want to prolong this entry…
Diary, as I finish writing this passage I stand in the courtyard of my previous hell, and diary, tomorrow I will turn it into my paradise filled with my enemy’s grave.
527BC 13th Ottobra
Oh Diary, It was fabulous. My promise for revenge came true, and so did the promises I had made to the people of Pechax. Their trust is in my hands—but that’s beside the point. The moment his decapitated head hung from my left hand as thickened blood gushed from his punctured neck, swinging; as his eyes twitched in pain and his senses opted in and out of consciousness was fabulous. It was fabulous. And of those bastards of Meicans almost only lay ripped flesh. Some are still being hunted and chased with razor-sharp blades screaming for their salvation, but in this chaos, I take my time to write this entry because it's freeing. It’s a wholesome sight. The smell of rotten flesh, however, has begun displeasing my nose a little. It's irritating. It’s incredible that even beyond their graves these insignificant creatures still irritate me.
It is so thrilling remembering it all. From the instant, I opened those gates while the townsfolks were asleep right till the moment they invaded Henry’s castle I was there of course. They stripped him out of bed, tied his hands and feet and dragged him by his hair. This was all just after all his guards were outnumbered by my pawns these Pechaxians. These pawns Pechaxians, then hauled him into the courtyard as he was cursing me. The audacity!
All I had to do was give an arm signal to my men before his body was dashed onto the cold floor, as he crawled away from me. He. Was. Scared.
What a pitiful king. In the moment I saw anger in his eyes I asked for the soldier’s blade, then, his eyes frightened. He asked why all of this was happening to him, why this invasion was taking place and why I appeared to be the mastermind behind it and why— now that I think of it, so many questions. Understandable. Nevertheless, it felt degrading. Questions weren’t meant to be asked then, it meant he didn’t fear me enough. If he did, he would have kept shut under my presence. I had to make him value me, fear me.
And so I did.
I began with his nails, they were too perfect, if I was the one with the upper hand in this situation he couldn’t possibly be “better looking” than me. I had to level things with him. Even better, I lowered his status as a human. Not that it was high. Ripped a few nails here and there until his screams of agony accompanied the sound of blood dripping down to the floor and created a delightful symphony of pain in my ears. I think it was four I took off, maybe eight or even nine.
Can’t remember well.
Then his skin looked just a bit too polished for my liking. “Perhaps his flesh is a bit too covered by his skin.” I mockingly told the soldier who had supplied me with the blade. To which he chuckled. I began trimming him shortly after and once again the screams besieged the courtyard as he kept on cursing me. I had completely forgotten about my father then, the truth I wanted to tell Henry, that I was the son of Lanmir had left my mind.
But he did deserve some answers.
Why was I doing this after so many years after my father’s death, still chasing that personal vendetta? So many people had been born after my father’s execution and today they were still dying while I was torturing Henry. It felt like something else was stirring up in my heart, more than just a personal vendetta. It was the need to see the world and its people get flipped upside down. That’s what It was.
Perhaps I deserved some answers.
“Why all this chaos?”
“Because chaos is freedom,” I remember telling him. It felt so freeing. “It’s an elixir to slurp and awaken one's desires. When you grant people the correct or the unlimited amount of chaos their true freedom rages out.”
The fact that humans, myself included diary, have some sort of person that is a pillar, almost resembling an entity in their life, a protector that helps guide them in all moments. And when that powerful entity is defeated chaos slowly rages from within and freedom to fulfil any action is given, however corrosive. My father was my pillar and he had taken it.
I said it all, everything deep within… when he realised who I was meant to be after those words and without having to mention the name of Lanmir, his eyes visibly filled with misery. My vengeance felt accomplished in that moment so, I took his head.
I granted chaos to “his” land and its people, while simultaneously giving it freedom from his tyranny.
The same feeling Henry had gifted me, the sprinkles of chaos in my life, I had offered abundantly to his little nation of two-faced bastards.
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