Of Wars & Weddings
Heinreich T. Sioson
Copyright 2015 Heinreich T. Sioson
For Chris & Anh
The Prince
The battle had been costly. The costliest since Pittsburgh. But it was worth it. His trepidation had vanished the moment his banner was draped over the edifice of that once mighty statue in the harbor, now a ruin caused by the disastrous years that followed since the collapse. When he was victorious the men cheered as the red and gold banner flew full and proudly, its stately form a symbol of the years of blood and bullets spent since his armies first began its march.
The Prince. Ever victorious. He stood on his flagship on the Hudson, his back to his home state. But it wasn't really his home. He loved it for sure but he never truly referred to it as "home." Someone called out to him and he turned. A man was standing behind him ramrod straight wearing an officer’s uniform.
"Sir, the prisoners are here."
The Prince nodded. The soldier saluted with fist to heart, turned and walked off. The Prince turned back to the bow of the ship. He could see smoke billowing from parts of the city, evidence of the battle now ended. All was silent. He heard no gunshots; he was grateful for that. The surrender held. No one else need die in anger. He inhaled a heavy breath and headed below deck.
Four men were waiting for him. Each different, products of the time before and after. But that didn’t matter to The Prince. He stood while they knelt with hands held behind them by thick chains anchored to the metal flooring of the ship. Every step he took sounded like a bell made of blackest iron. He stopped in front of the man at the forefront of the group, a man so tanned he glowed. The man was covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. The Prince surveyed the others who were also kneeling. They were similarly dirty.
“One day, you’ll get yours too. Like we did...,” said the man kneeling at the far right. He spat blood onto the floor in front of him.
The Prince smiled. Bronx. He had fond memories of that place, once upon a time. A soldier wearing black fatigues and a black mask emerged from the shadows behind the man and hit him with the butt of a pistol, causing him to fall over. He didn’t cry out – he was tough. His people were all tough, even the ones who surrendered did so with dignity and more than a little defiance. Another soldier donning black hidden within the ship’s darkened holds walked over and made the fallen man sit upright. He looked straight at The Prince with fire and murder in his eyes.
“What will you do to us?” asked the white man second on the left. The Prince turned to him. This one had tried to cut a deal in the eleventh hour: he wanted that great borough to keep its sovereignty. In exchange his forces wouldn’t participate in the battle. The Prince scoffed at his terms and ordered his army to advance. It wasn’t all or nothing. It wasn’t all or just some. It was all or all. The Prince stared at him, and unable to return the stare the man averted his eyes.
The Prince took measured steps past the men. When he reached one end, he turned and walked the same way back, and when he reached the other end he did it again. Until suddenly, he stopped and snapped the fingers of one hand, the sound reverberating throughout the ship’s interior. Appearing from the rear of the ship was a third man in black holding a box. Built from a sturdy dark wood it was a foot and a half across and just as wide with iron bands running along the surface. The soldier stopped in front of The Prince and held it out. The Prince turned and opened it, the hinges making no noise as it swung back. He paused to examine what was inside and nodded. Closing the lid he picked it up off the hands of the soldier who saluted and stepped back. The Prince tucked it under one arm.
“Sir?” said one of the men in black. Gesturing to the prisoners he asked, “What of them?”
The Prince said nothing. He just looked at him.
The man in black saluted and said, “Yes, sir.” And with that The Prince made his way towards the ship’s hatch and walked up the stairs to the deck above. He didn’t look back as the hatch was sealed behind him, filling the room in darkness.
Dusk was coming. He had seen it dozens of times on both sides of the Hudson, but never like this. The Prince stood at the very edge of the ship with no railings to prevent him from falling into the river. He was a terrible swimmer so the dip would likely kill him. He was alone – he had ordered everyone else below. Everyone had obeyed without resistance because there were celebrations to be had. And he allowed it. They had earned it, as they always did. His boys and girls. His soldiers. While they may have loved him, he surely loved them. Since the unification of his state he had led and they had followed, bringing victory everywhere they went. But wars have their costs and lives and loved ones were lost. However, despite the heavy casualties of the battle morale was at an all-time high. The Prince sighed and was grateful.
He knelt before the box at his feet and swung the lid open. Reaching in the jangle of heavy chains broke the silent coming of night. He gripped the steel links and pulled out what was inside. Four crowns, all ornate and opulent. Two were made of gold, a third of silver, and the last of platinum. The Prince cringed. He examined them until he could no longer stand it and then threw them into the Hudson. The Prince watched as the combined weight of the crowns and the chain forced them to the depths. He shook his head.
The Kings of the Four Boroughs were fools. To a man they had refused to join him. But he was prepared. Divide and conquer. It had worked for millennia. Thankfully, the Four Kings had helped with the first half of that old equation - they had been fighting each other for years. This made conquering them all the more easy.
“Sir,” said a voice from behind him. The Prince turned and the soldier saluted with a fist to his heart. “I’m sorry to disturb you but we have word from ours in the north: small groups of men from Albany and Hartford have been spotted heading this way.” The soldier was trying to hide a smile but was failing. The Prince allowed the breach of decorum and flashed one of his own.
The man continued. “By sea we expect the representatives from Hartford to be here in under a week. But Albany... Sir, that’s a long walk.”
The Prince nodded.
“Will you meet with them, sir?”
“No,” said The Prince. “I have a wedding to go to.”
The Knave
Even after so many years he wasn’t used to the humidity. During these times he wished for the skies to open and shower the land with rain as it often did. But the heat was the least of his problems. The North Carolinians refused to be moved. After taking South Carolina last year you'd think they'd get the hint. But they didn't, and so all there was to do now was to lay siege to the state. He wasn't used to the waiting game - he was aggressive by nature. He loved being on the move. The Knave had conquered much of the south in this way, rolling over every army he’s ever faced. It helped that his army dwarfed those of his enemies. Even his cousin up north would be foolish to face him. But he wasn't the enemy. The Knave shook his head. He was tired.
There was a knock on the door. Before he could speak it opened.
"Hey," said a female voice.
He smiled. "Come in."
His wife walked in with all the regal poise she possessed. Reaching his desk she looked him over. She said, "You need to get some sleep."
He rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, but there’s no time for that." She said his name and he recognized the tone. "I'll get some sleep on the ship, I promise."
"You better."
He nodded. "Our bags ready?"
"Yeah, the servants put them in the car. When do we leave?"
"The ship leaves in three hours. I'm just finishing up a few things and then we can go," said The Knave who turned to the papers on his desk. His wife sat against the edge facing the door and waited. She smiled. He hated this part of it
, the deskwork. At times she had been fearful for his life – there had been many close calls – but he loved battle. She wasn’t going to take that away from him. She had been too lost in thought to notice The Knave had gotten out of his seat and had walked around to her. She let out a yelp as he pinched a fleshy part of her stomach.
“You fucking jerk,” she said, giggling.
He laughed. “I’m done here. Let’s head out.” She turned to see the stacks of papers pointed at them with eyebrows raised. He said, “They’re signed, I’ll have one of the men clean up after we’ve gone.”
“Okay,” said The Knave as he pulled his wife close and kissed her. She couldn’t help but smile wantonly in between intense kisses. She didn’t want to stop but forced herself to and pushed him away. He allowed it.
“There’ll be time for that on the trip.”
He smirked. “Mmm hm.” The Knave wrapped one arm around her waist and they walked out of his office.