If I Ruled the World: Chapter Six

It is pleasant for the Good on the mountains of Excella Er, until the not-so-good arise and disrupt the status quo.

Need to Catch Up? Start Here.

If I Ruled the World: The Novella

---

Photo by Paul Pastourmatzis on Unsplash

Mille and Klado arrived on Excella in a castle tower that overlooked the vast blue mountain ranges covering the Er’s surface. The tower, made of huge hand-cut stones, had been standing for centuries as the meeting place between Traveler and Excella’s Good.

Klado strode onto the balcony beneath the ornate, curved roof—and froze.

Mille stepped out into the dusky blue air behind them. “What’s wrong?”

“It is too quiet,” Klado said. “The officers are gone.” They narrowed their eyes. “And the courtyard is empty.”

Then suddenly it was too loud. Mille clapped her hands over her ears as rockets burst, one after the other, hurling enormous balls of fire into the sky and slamming massive pieces of shrapnel into the dense castle walls. Each hit shook the tower to its rocky foundations, toppling red clay tiles from the roof, just missing their heads.

Mille clung to Klado to keep from falling. “What’s happening?!”

A tower officer, pale blue and sweating, waved frantically from the interior room. “Most Honorable Traveler, you must leave! It is not safe!” His purple uniform, adorned with brass buttons from chin to waist, had large dark stains under each arm. “Didn’t you get our message? We are under attack!”

Klado stumbled inside, frowning down at his armlet. “The jump from Lierne drained the transponder. We cannot go until it charges.”

“Then you must hide,” the officer said, sprinting toward the stairway. “Follow me!”

Without a word, the officer led them deep inside the mountain, down ten flights of stairs, and far from the raging battle above. “You will be safe here,” the officer said. He turned to leave the dim and sparsely furnished room. “I must get back to my post.”

“Before you go,” Klado said, his voice weighty with authority. “How did your excellent kingdom come to this?”

The officer paused, sagged, then closed the thick metal door with a thud. He dragged a chair to the table, sat down and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he hung his head as deep, heaving sobs shook his shoulders and soaked his neatly trimmed beard. Mille patted his hand; it was obvious the young man, even younger than Klado, had never experienced the bloodshed that came with war.

The officer took several deep breaths to compose himself. “Too many not-good people,” he said.

Mille jerked her hand away from his. She had her Travelers armlet on; she didn’t need to touch him to hear his disturbing words. “What makes a person not good?”

“Everyone in our kingdom has an opportunity for education and employment. When they take advantage of it, they are Good.” The officer’s eyes fluttered. “When they do not—or cannot—then they are not-good.” He lifted his chin. “They are a burden on our society.”

Mille pouted. “Who can’t take advantage of opportunity?”

The officer blinked. “People who can’t work—the elderly, the infirm. Most of the time, relatives take them in, but those who have no family—” He cringed. “Or those whose families are not honorable; the kingdom must support them.”

Klado sat with elbows on the table, and hands clasped under their chin. “And those who choose not to take advantage?”

“Criminals.” The officer’s eyes fluttered. “Our most excellent kingdom has many factions, each with their own standard of Good. For centuries, less than 3% of the population fell through the cracks, having no interest in what the kingdom considers Good. The resentment of 3% is unpleasant, yes, but tolerable.” His lips curled. “But the percentage has increased in the past decades and the not-good are making our lives pure hell.”

Klado narrowed their eyes. “So … criminals are attacking you?”

The officer looked at Klado wide-eyed. “No!” He lifted his hands toward the ceiling. “Criminals can’t do that kind of damage. The Moddeshe are attacking us.”

“Who are the Moddeshe?” Mille asked.

The officer smoothed his damp blue hands down his tailored purple uniform. “The most powerful factions are the Traddeshe and the Moddeshe.” He fondled the brass buttons at his waist. “I am Traddeshe. We believe crime is increasing because immorality is also increasing. The Moddeshe,” he said, sneering, “with no data to support their claims, believe criminals are being brought in to weaken our kingdom.” He gripped Klado’s arm. “They are blaming the Travelers. They want to put an end to immigration and they are—violently.”

Mille looked at Klado. “Is that true?”

“Is what true?”

“Do the Travelers transport criminals?”

Klado straightened in their chair, their narrow grey eyes glistening. “The people whom Travelers help may not fit societal norms in their own worlds, but they exhibit exceptional moral character in the galaxy.” They directed an accusatory glare at the officer. “If they ultimately become criminals, it is because opportunity for education and employment is not as equal as the kingdom claims.”

The officer hung his head once again. “That’s what I said. Immorality is the underlying cause.”

A beep from Klado’s armlet interrupted the ensuing silence.

“The transponder is ready. It is time to go,” Klado said. They stood, took Mille’s hand, reached in their tunic, and pressed the button for Gujetta—but nothing happened. Klado lifted their face to the ceiling and moaned. “The transponder does not work underground.” They started for the door. “Come, Mille. We must return to the surface.”

The officer jumped up and held out his hands. “No! Wait! I’ll go first and make sure it’s safe. Then I’ll come back for you.”

Mille lifted her head from the table, yawned, and stretched before noticing Klado on the floor with their back pressed against the wall. “How long was I asleep?”

“A while.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Klado’s shoulders slumped forward, and the silky sleeves of their tunic brushed the floor. “Mille. We are in trouble. Serious trouble.”

The air in the room was already dank from being trapped inside for hours, but the ominous weight of Klado’s words made her shudder with fear. “What? I don’t understand.”

“The officer. He never came back. The Moddeshe must have captured him … or worse.”

“But we’re safe down here, right?”

Mille knew, before she asked, they could not stay in that room forever. Ten stories beneath whatever was happening on the surface, there was no food or water to sustain them.

Klado pulled off their tunic and unfastened the chains that secured the silver breastplate to their chest. Their skin beneath it was also the color of wet rice paper, and so thin she could see their blood vessels and the outline of their heart.

“What are you doing?!”

“I am going above to investigate. Here,” Klado said. “Keep the transponder. If I do not return, at least you still have a chance.”

“No!” Mille rushed to kneel at Klado’s feet. “You can’t leave me here by myself! My only chance to survive is with you.”

After nine grueling flights, they stopped in their tracks—terrified. The officer was lying in a heap at their feet, lifeless, with his magnificent purple uniform stained scarlet with his blood.

“Get those foreigners!”

They looked and faces, deep blue and bloodthirsty, were rushing down the last flight of stairs. The mob snatched them and dragged them up and out into the open, where people, not blue, were being herded screaming and pleading to a cliff behind the smoldering tower.

Mille watched in horror as the enraged mob hurled each man, woman, and child over the edge to the jeers of scandalous onlookers.

“Foreign scum!”

“Rapists!”

“Thieves!”

“Filthy immigrants!”

Then Mille was plummeting through the dusky blue sky toward the matching mountains below. She squeezed her eyes shut and remembered her mother, her sisters, and her father. Why had she been so determined to leave them?

“Mille!!!”

Her eyes opened, and there was Klado, their body straight as an arrow diving toward her. Klado stretched out their hand and she grasped it. But was it too late? Klado was losing consciousness, their grey eyes rolling back in their head.

“Klado! Push the button!” Her hand was slipping. “Kladooooo!—”

---