Acting General Raemond

Tired eyes glared back at him through the mirror. The emerald color seems to have faded, while the wrinkles around them only grew more prominent. His dark brown hair was in shambles, flayed left and right. He sighed and closed his eyes.

          “This will be the last day.” He said softly. “The last act.”

          His eyes opened slowly. After taking a long look at himself, he straightened his back and took several deep breaths. Each one returned his strength. Glaring at himself, he quickly moved to a commanding stance. Now he was the picture of authority. With a set jaw and square shoulders, he imagined donning his country’s colors, only to find everything overwhelmingly foreign. His stance relaxed, and the gray and purple soldier's uniform he had imagined faded away into his white tee shirt and blue shorts.

          A short growl escaped his lips. “Where did General Raemond go.” He slumped down; hands rested on the counter of the bathroom and stood for what felt like hours.

          He couldn’t afford to do this. For far too long, he kept his head high as the Tyrant guided his character with his every whim. His faith in the Dragon, Lashier, extinguished when the man had started throwing innocent people in jail for a number of derisory reasons. Nevertheless, he continued acting as General Raemond. His role was nothing more than a ruse.

          He lifted his head once more, gazing back at his reflection, before breaking into a big smile. “Welcome back, Bamon.” He said with enthusiasm. “There are plenty of new recruits. Which ones do you want on your squad?”

          His smile dropped as he gauged the words. They were too fervent. It was unlikely he would even see Bamon on his return.

          He sighed, and let out a little mumble. “Play the part.”

          His smile this time was smaller - far more reserved. “Bamon.” He gestured with an open palm a small ‘go ahead’. Yes. That would be more what the General would do.

          He moved to the right side of the mirror, crossed his arms, and stood as Bamon would. “Ray. Don’t you try to distract me.” Ray’s version was a bit too bearish, maybe, but he continued with fervor and stepped right, standing as General Raemond.

          “Not at all my intention.” He smirked through the words. “I am simply letting you choose a squad first.”

          He shimmied left. “There is a break in the palace defenses and you are wasting time with this?” 

          He moved right, and let out a small chuckle. “’The rebellion isn’t strong enough to cause any fear or panic.’ You said that Bamon, not five minutes ago.”

          He hopped back over to the left and resumed his mockery of Bamon. “Don’t you patronize me, Ray. I see through your words.”

          Ray dropped his arms and lazily moved back to the center of the mirror. He gazed at his own tired reflection. “I don’t even know my lines anymore.”

          This mission had kept him away from the palace for so long, he didn’t realize his own role had changed. He went from the powerful and resourceful General Raemond, to the Rebellion’s dependable commander, Ray.

          He gave himself another once over in the mirror before moving swiftly into the main room. His room. He had forgotten just how massive it was. General Raemond had it good. This single room was the size of a small apartment. Ray, on the other hand, only had a room the size of a closet. At least it was cozy.

          He shook his head. Things like housing meant very little to him now. Now he was much more interested in working for his cause, and if that meant acting once more, he would gladly do it.

          Ray moved to the closet adjacent to the bathroom. Reaching up on the top shelf, he grabbed a small duffle bag. To be sure, he double-checked to make sure nothing was in there. He nodded his head and shuffled into the main room once again. He looked around for a bit before placing anything useful or valuable into the bag: Loose silver and gold coins, a diamond necklace he had bought, the computer hub and screen, his old magic charm, and a few other trinkets were thrown in carelessly.

He summoned some magic energy into his hand and drew a small circle in the air. The dull white of the circle slowly changed to a vibrant green as he added characters and incantations. A mere second later, the magic energy stabilized. Ray grabbed the duffle bag and moved it toward the circle. The green of the circle brightened, and the bag disappeared. Ray waved his hand across the magic. It rippled a bit, as if in water, before disappearing altogether. It was an easy and convenient storage spell. He had everything in there. Clothes, weapons, armor, drinks, snacks, and anything else a lazy Commander could need.

Ray took another look around the room with a thin smile playing on his lips. It wouldn’t be too long now. He moved to the closet once more and grabbed the heavy, stuffy General’s uniform, then went into the bathroom and threw the clothes unceremoniously onto the floor.

He further ignored the clothes, deciding instead to take a much-needed shower. Ray threw his boxers and tee-shirt towards the laundry bin, not caring if they actually made it in. Hot water began to steam the room, and as he stepped into the shower, he sighed in relief. It had been far too long since he could properly shower. He hummed a show tune or two as he enjoyed the scalding water.

After half an hour or so passed by, he turned off the water and stepped out. With a glare sent towards the uniform, he lazed through the motions of drying, tossed aside the towel, and finally lowered himself to meet that dismal costume where it belonged. Rising in character, he hung the garment neatly on a rack and began the routine.

Clean boxers, socks, leggings, and undershirt went on first, before his armored vest with physical resistance and magic dampeners. Then went on the dressy, light gray pants with purple trim up the side. His shoes, freshly polished, went next. The coat was his least favorite part. Those buttons were more difficult than they needed to be, and the Dragon required them to be immaculate. He slung the gray jacket over his vest and worked his arms in. He took care to fasten each purple button just as Lashier liked.

Ray glowered in the mirror. It felt strange to be wearing this again. He has been out of character for far too long. He ran his fingers through his hair haphazardly. It was never kept prim, so no one would pay him any heed if his hair was a bit messier than usual. That was just fine with him.

“Lashier, allow me to reintroduce myself to you. My name is Ray. I am the Commander of the Rebellion that intends to drag you off that throne. My troops have liberated the innocent prisoners, and a majority of your soldiers have sided with us. This break-in was just a prelude of events to come.”

He took long, deep breaths after his short speech. This would be the most dangerous play he had to perform. General Raemond renounces his title, his status, and his loyalty to the dragon, only to give it all to the Rebellion that is sworn against him. This scene was a long time coming. Ray would start with Bamon, and the news would quickly spread to an enraged Dragon. It would surely end in disaster for both sides. 

He glanced in the mirror, donning his authoritative look once more, before stepping into the main room. No sooner than he did, alarms rang through the palace with a piercing screech. That was his cue.

He reached for the door and stepped out onto his stage for the last time.

“Let the show begin.”