A Walk Down Memory Lane. . . .in chains [Alex Nester]

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

The Royal Military Academy in the Capital of Stefania, St. Tiberius.

It was certainly impressive.

Its grand and majestic architecture a statement of the power and ability of Crina. It definitely stood out among the world's major features. Perhaps even comparable in form to the Royal Palace, the Cosmina Academy for Practitioners, or Crina's mighty shipyards at Andreea. It sat so excellently as a prominent location within the capital city, perhaps that's what made it feel so integrated and beautiful. It felt as though it were a part of the city itself whereas many other renown places of Crina tended to stand out on their own.

Personally Alva Calvarona wondered what the curriculum was like, how different it was from Cosmina's since that was where she and her sisters had been sent to study. Well today she would likely get a good understanding of those differences and learn much about the place she didn't know aside from its reputation.

After all, a guest would be entertaining her, and she would be enlightening him as well. A former student of the military academy.

A rebel.

Alexander Nester.

If the time were any indication he would be arriving relatively soon, from the dungeons from which he had been thrown into. His name truly meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Unlike others in history like Crina or Nicoleta, or even Alva herself in the present, few would know his name commonplace likely. Enough did though, many rebels likely knew the man, as did plenty of Royalist soldiers. Traitors and rebels from the military academy and even from Cosmina had arisen before, enough to not be surprised, but they were noticed by their former classmates, respected and recognized by their fellows in the rebellion.

Alex appeared have earned just enough of a reputation as a competent leader in the lower cadre of the rebel forces, and popped up enough he had been identified. His capture during the last great battle meant little to the overall war effort. Unless she utilized him to the fullest to quash even more of whatever ashes of resistance still existed. She hoped the setting of his alma mater would bring up nice memories for the man whenever the Crinan Royal Soldiers brought him here.

 

[Agatha Nestor]

Despite it's pristine condition, the eastern outskirts of Stefania was composed out of nothing more but desolated sectors, filled to the brim with numerous small buildings, few rising above two or three floors, and complexes. It was a veritable ghost town that you couldn't help but feel uneasy in due to the crowded layout of the buildings, the narrow streets and one lane roads, the absence of electrical circuits in the majority of areas, and the lack of any greenery or public administration, reaching the point where one would be justified in feeling claustrophobic just walking through the streets at night. The only sound emanating from this sector was that of a lone truck slowly making its way eastwards, jumping in and out of the numerous potholes that have been left unattended.

There were four men in total riding in the car. The driver, a short in stature, large in girth man wearing tattered down civilian clothing, a pair of broken glasses fixed with duct tape hanging on his nose, carefully looking at the round ahead of him, one arm out the window clutching a cigarette. The other three sat in the back, two soldiers garbed in a white armor in pristine condition, holding tightly onto their weapons while maintaining their fingers off the trigger, sitting on opposite sides of the bench while facing each other. Next to one of them sat Alexander, his body laid against the cloth that covered the back of the truck, his head hanged low. His face was bruised and scarred, cheeks red and not bandaged. His body armor and equipment were stripped from him, only clothed in a pair of green civilian clothing and black boots. Mud, blood, and grass hanged onto them. Both of his hands were tied to one another by a pair of steel, reinforced cuffs.

The truck violently pulled to a stop, shaking the travelers in their seat. Banging on the wall coming from the drivers seat signaled them that they have reached their destination. Rising to their feet, one of the soldiers grabbed Alexander by his clothing and quickly pulled him onto his feet, pushing him forward and out of the truck. Jumping out from the back, he instinctively covered his reddened and puffy eyes with the broad side of the cuffs, slowly looking around the area with an expression of melancholy. The driver left them about a ten minute walk from the main academy, presumably not given permission to drive any closer due to the proximity of military installations in the area. The walk towards their destination was silent, only the chirping of birds doing anything to break the monotony as Alexander looked around his surroundings halfheartedly. The group passed by one of the local defense installations, apparently run downed and abandoned at first glance. The paint coating fell off from most of the installation, taking on it's natural brownish color, black graffiti painted over it with Royalist slogans and markings. But it seemed some people were still tending to them, one person running around the electrical circuit that connected every piece of the installation together, as more people dressed in the clothing of army mechanics came out of the units. It seemed that they were still operation, despite their poor appearance.

They passed by a unit of a few dozen men running a marathon around the academy campus, an officer shouting at the top of his lungs lyrics to an old folk song which the men proceeded to repeat enthusiastically. A quick glance through their ranks showed young and old men alike, a glimmer in their eyes and a smile on their lips. The recent victory against the invading force seems to have lifted their moods considerably. Approaching the entrance to the main plaza, Alexander could see a woman waiting on the other side of the arcs, surrounded by several more men wearing the same pristine, white armor pieces of the Royalist soldiers, standing in a line behind her at the ready. His eyes darted upwards, towards the center of the arc where a small, metal plaque was bolted on tightly.

~Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory.~​

​

Read the plaque, the motto of the Academy. This past few weeks, he has started to doubt the truth of those words due to the recent interference of outside forces into the war. Brought to a halt a few feet away from the woman, his eyes stared passed her, unfocused and uncaring. The guards that were with him stood by his side, one of them placing their hand on his shoulder and roughly placing him in his knees, demanding that he show due respect, before turning back to the woman and giving his report.

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

Presentation.

It was everything one could say after all. The impact one could have on others greatly effected the outcome before things ever happened. It was what Alva had been hoping to utilize in her quest and plans before to crush the rebellion herself and create a legend of herself as a hero ending strife and suffering from disillusioned murderers who were selfish and did not care about the people. Of course, that hadn't happened, and it wouldn't anymore. All her careful planning and desires meant little in the face of the Imperial conquest her family invited upon Crina. Now she would have to handle matters in a different way. Still, this would be a nice step today towards that path.

It was a little funny that Crina's Royal Soldiers wore such beautiful white armor, seeing how that was also the color that the Imperial Stormtroopers elected to wear themselves. However, she liked to believe that Crina's forces had a much more pristine and appealing shape and contour to the armor and helmet design. It made it feel more alive, and much more vibrantly powerful, all while still being menacing to those who had to face them. Their armor was made from a light mixtures of metals with plastisteel and several kinds of armorweave and organic fabric. It was strong and flexible, especially against stabbing, slashing, and ballistics, though it didn't do much against fire or acidic/chemical weaponry. Nonetheless Alva felt empowered and safe with the soldiers in this armor behind her.

Armor that Alexander Nester might have worn if he had entered the Royal Army after his graduation rather than defecting to the Rebel Forces.

Crina's second princess saw how the traitor looked past her. She had seen it earlier herself, the plaque, and now she wondered what he was thinking of, unless Alex was just looking at something else or beginning to feel the weight of fatigue being a prisoner could have. Alva took the report from the soldier holding Nester secure with little response, it was merely standard procedure and formality. Not that she didn't enjoy watching the rebel forced to his knees to give her proper homage. He needed to be reminded of his due place. It was the rebels greed and desire for more in life when everything could be so content that caused the war after all.

"St. Tiberius Academy, the Royal Military Academy in our great Capital Stefania. . . . . .to be truthful I went to Cosmina Academy for Practitioners. You however, you came here like many others when the policy changed so long ago to allow even the least fortunate to rise up and experience a full education here. All because of General Tiberius who they named this place after yes? His motto is even on the arch behind us. Tell me Mr. Nester, what did you think of that man when you studied here and learned about him? Our courses at Cosmina didn't delve into history as deeply over his time. I would think the way he lived spoke rather well for him from what I do know though, and he was a loyal Royal Soldier. . . . . just like your uncle I believe yes? I'm sorry to have called you out here, but many of Crina's influential have been called to go around and see to the state of such places as this, to tour them and see how they are holding up with the civil war's perhaps final battle having concluded. . . and with a new regime perhaps settling in. I have many things I have thought over and after discovering you and your history I found you could help very much, as a tour guide for my visit here. . . . and someone to listen to many of the matters I have been contemplating."

Turning to the academy with her soldiers in tow, those holding Nester likely picking him up by now and maybe bringing him forward, Alva took a moment of thought before moving. "I'd like to visit the school's major locations. I'd very much appreciate seeing the classrooms and supporting facilities."

 

[Agatha Nestor]

Alexander sat on his knees in front of the small group, listening quietly and only halfheartedly paying any semblance of attention to the woman who spoke. His head hanged low, he fidgeted his lower body and arms, attempting to get himself in a better position, while stealing some glances at the area around him. When she asked him about his opinion on The Saint, Alexander replied with absolute silence, his face contorting in a grimace, and his chest aching. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he let out a gnarly sound, as if his nasal passages were filled entirely with mucus. Once the woman brought his uncle into the discussion, he sharply raised his head to face her, his eyes meeting hers, and fidgeting forward on the ground towards her, his cheeks redder than before.

"You koorkin' bi~!"

Was all he managed to blurt out in a raspy voice, spit flying out of his mouth and mucus streaming down his nose, before he received a heavy blow to the back of his head that placed him flat on the ground. Roughly grabbed by his arms by both men besides him, he was forced back onto his knees, his eyes unfocused once more as his head swirled around slightly. The woman continued to speak regardless of this, her reaction to this unknown and uncared for by Alexander. Placed upon his feet by force, both soldiers next to him held on tightly to his arms and kept his posture straight, as the woman in front of them turned around and began to move and speak. He was stupefied by her relaxed attitude and request for a few good moments, staring blankly with mouth agape, before it quickly turned into indignation and hatred of her. He couldn't care any less about her status as Royalty or military woman, all he harbored for her at the moment was pure hatred for seemingly casually pouring salt into his wounds. Yet as much as he may want to say anything, the several guards surrounding both of them, fingers near the trigger, deterred him from saying anything that may result in his head found on a spike the following day.

" . . . I 'ave me rites. If all 'yer gon' do today is gloat in me face, I'd rather be put back in ta' cell an' wait on ta' court martial."

He responded in a nervous voice after a few seconds of silence, his lips cracking, trying his best not to show his emotions to Alva.

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

The attempt of an insult from Mr. Nester did not go unpunished, and were she not trying to keep her semblance of generosity and gentleness Alva likely would have struck the impudent man as well for his behavior. For one not only was it ill mannered period, but he was in the presence of royalty, and someone who could decide his future. She never understood the damned defiance of rebellious individuals when it made them so stubborn they lost site of decent human interaction. Say what you will, but Alva did not consider the importance of order and peace to the Royalists a problem. Certainly it was understandable people may wish to be in touch with the greater galaxy, but when everyone led peaceful and content lives, it seemed so selfish and greedy of the rebels to claim they didn't have enough freedom and wanted to leave the world and disturb its society and infrastructure.

Perhaps the rebels felt the Royalists were too controlling or craved power, she didn't care. They started the war and created chaos from contentment and harmony. They brought whatever suffering came from the war and the Imperial intervention on themselves. The fact the rebels perhaps doomed everyone else to suffer with a change in the system infuriated her as well. Especially when she was so close to the throne and now it was denied her. Alva knew for certain what she had lost personally. However, she couldn't beat the man senseless or burn him to death on the spot. She couldn't show how angry she was, she needed him. He would be a tool to bring about a much greater goal.

So she ignored his outburst and request to be locked away again. Instead she began walking towards the entrance of the academy and waited for her guards to take the lead to a classroom where they could begin a proper tour of the grounds since it appeared Alexander wasn't willing to do so himself quite yet. "You're being given the opportunity to have fresh air and revisit a place of importance for both Crina and you're own life. Plenty of others would love to have this chance. However, you are someone who can do the most with what you will see and hear today. The decisions you might have when the day is over and they've been presented to you, could determine much of Crina's future. Along with the future of its people, your fellow rebels, and yourself."

 

[Agatha Nestor]

Alexander sat idly and silent on the spot, refusing to utter another word to the woman in front of him, his expression morphed into one of disdain. Nevertheless, if one were to examine his facial features properly, they would easily notice the signs that indicate that his interest and curiosity have been piqued, regardless of how much he would undoubtedly deny it if asked. Pushed from behind by one of the armored soldiers keeping him in check, his body flailed around in the air for the briefest moment, seeming to topple over and fall on the ground before he was violently jerked back by the same man gripping his shirt and pulling him back. Taking the hint, he began to slowly limp behind Alva, his body struggling, and failing to maintain either a straight posture or walk properly. Curiously looking around his surroundings as he walked, he took note that not much seems to have changed with the passage of time.

They currently found themselves walking through a large, circular plaza that served as the main entrance to the campus of the academy. A neatly laid out stone path guided the group towards the center of the plaza, where a moderately sized stand had been erected. Intended to be used for either drills or entertainment, it primarily served as an intersection where every road found within the campus grounds convened, a small metal plaque built into the stand detailing what road led to which building. The surrounding area was nearly entirely covered in shrubbery and greenery, several small trees planted in a fenced off garden near border of the plaza. If they were to follow the beaten path, it would take them several minutes to get from one end to another, while cutting through the grass would land them wherever they wished to be in less than half a minute.

The woman in front of him spoke incessantly, speaking like a broken record each and every time something seemed to strike her fancy. Be it a certain pattern in the stylistic approach the Academy took, the architecture of the buildings compared to that of the academy at Cosmina, the uniform of the students, or even the relatively common plants planted all through the plaza, she never seemed to miss an opportunity to speak her mind, as if she was enthralled by the sound of her own voice. Whenever something stroke her as peculiar, she stopped in her tracks for a few seconds, ignoring the offending item, and ask a pointless question or another. Time and time again however, Alexander said nothing, the uneasy silence after the woman asked being broken by one of the accompanying soldiers answering in his stead, which seemed to only serve to annoy the woman slightly, judging from her body movements. A small nudge in his ribs from one of his escorts, and a slap across the back of the head from another, came along with a warning from the men to stop ignoring her unless he wished to end up in a ditch.

Bringing themselves to a halt in front of a pair of metal doors, two of the soldiers accompanying the woman quickly took positions on both sides of the entrance, quickly pulling the doors apart and clearing the way for the group to walk past the entrance. They were greeted by a large hallway leading straight ahead for a good distance, a pair of doors placed on either side of the wall every thirty feet from one another. Numerous busts were prominently placed on display along the walls, representing either officers or historical figures in great detail. A good majority of them were, unfortunately, chipped and broken due to the destruction of the old academy, but still fairly easy to recognize the person they are honoring. The walls were lined with framed portraits of members of the Royal Family, one seemingly being in place near the other end of the hallway for Alva herself. The students present in the area quickly began to mumble and mutter amongst each other, hugging the walls and the and door frames in order to make room for the group to advance. Taking a quick glance among them indicated that most looked on to Alva with admiration and a glimmer in their eyes, some directing this view to the royal soldiers themselves, while the few that paid attention to Alexander looked at him with either confusion or scorn. Stepping in front of a large, wooden trophy cased placed against the wall, the woman stared at the assortment of awards with interest, pointing towards one in particular and asking about it.

". . . Hounds Medal." He replied in a tired and defeated voice, staring at the small rectangular award. "Awarded fo' valiant sacrifice in battle. Named aftah ta' Kath Hounds, most commonly given postmortem. Lord Tiberius 'ad one of 'em."

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

The traitor was becoming highly irritating and Alva was close to sighing and having him sent away if he continued to refuse to participate in the proceedings in front of him. After all she could easily just begin another search to find a likely candidate for her plans, he should feel honored and lucky that he had been the one to be pulled from the prison, even if he did not, and likely would not, know of the full circumstances surrounding the decision and his good fortune. Nonetheless he was here now, she hoped he took the chance given to him as they walked around the premises. Alva tried giving him ample opportunity to speak as well, commenting on the theme of the academy's construction and the choice of the student's uniforms. Yet he stayed silent.

It was beginning to irk her by the time they passed by one of the classrooms, filled with simple yet still impressive holographic displays along with old fashioned texts for the students to utilize, and Alexander's silence still persevered. At least the loyal soldiers escorting her and the rebel eased the annoyance with a good few smacks to the traitor's thick head, though she didn't deign to appear as though she noticed it. Entering one of the main halls within the academy appeared to finally bring in some new results from her captive guide. At first there was little change in the man's stubborn silence as he received glares and sneers from the students, while she was looked upon with awe and reverence, but once they neared the array of awards that the military had devised within a display case and she inquire about them, she finally got her answer.

She smiled when he finally spoke, especially considering how perfectly setup everything was. Everything was planned, everything calculated. "Right, I remember. An award for those who died in battle ensuring the safety of others. . . . .if I recall your uncle was a recipient of this medal of honor as well. Odd how you justified the rebels execution of him yet blame those among the Royal Army so painfully for the death of your parents. Shooting a man merely for wearing his old combat equipment as he evacuated his fellow civilians out of a combat zone. His bravery was commended and quite well noted, he may even make it into the curriculum for this academy's students some day. It's what happens in war though, people die, its not entirely the fault of who pulled the trigger, or those who gave the order to fight that day. You've lost more than most sadly, and both sides are to blame. Perhaps that gives you clearer views of suffering and the pain of loss."

The Crinan Royal felt a moment of rest was necessary to see how things sunk in. She wasn't about to press immediately after dropping news on the rebel if he didn't know about his uncle's passing already. After all, she wasn't. . .entirely heartless. . . .or foolish in matters of negotiation.

 

[Agatha Nestor]

The woman spoke in what appeared to be an informal and uncaring tone of voice, without even the slightest hint of any genuine pity, or empathy discernible in either her speech or mannerism. Alexander remained silent through her entire exposition, his entire body trembling uncontrollably, knees bend forward and shoulders slumped. His eyes were wide-opened, staring blankly at the small piece of metal in front of him that spurred this entire entire chain of events, safely anchored to the wall on the other side of the glass. His expression quickly morphed from one of resignation and indifference into that of confusion, followed by grief. He could feel an all too familiar lump forcing it's way back into his throat, transforming every attempt of his to speak quietly or calmly into a cacophony of grunts and guttural sounds that were supposed to pass for phrases. His cheeks became as red as a virgins, tears streaming down his face from his half-closed eyes as if they were waterfalls. Raising his head to face Alva, she could see the face of a broken man as he attempted to string together a full sentence through constant sobs and cries.

"Yu . . . 'ye, 'yer full o . . ."

He spoke in a whisper like voice, trying to finish his sentence several times before finally giving up. He brought his hands closer to his head, covering his face with his palms and resuming to quietly sob within them. As much as he kept repeating to himself that she was lying, trying to get a reaction out of him, the recent death of his old friends in Arcadia made it hard to deny the possibility that the Grim Reaper finally took away everybody from him.

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

And so the stubborn and resistant rebel was finally beginning to break down. This was what she had been hoping to save for last, to allow Alexander to wallow in his own wretchedness, torment, and suffering while he was taken away to the dungeon to think over his options with that information. However, with his refusal to participate in her plans at all thus far, his silence needed to be broken, even if it meant tearing the man apart at the same time as well. Hopefully he would end up recovering enough of his composure by the end of the tour so that he could be of any use. After all it would be such a waste to go through all of this and have nothing sink into the traitor like she intended.

Alva needed him to get things clear. She needed him to hear what she had to say and take the choice she'd give him. He would be such a useful tool to eliminate the much of the remaining resistance against the Royal Family and the new Imperial regime. Sure the rebel army and navy had been primarily defeated in that last battle, but there were plenty who hadn't been killed or captured still, hiding out underground, waiting for their chance to fight back once more. They still had hope. Soon enough she intended to crush it, by both using the rebel Nester before her, and dashing their last symbolic bastion of freedom on Rodica, the outpost set up by Nicoleta.

Removing the last vestiges of rebellion from Crina would increase her standing both in the Imperial system she had to climb through as well as make her more popular within the Royalists regime on Crina should attaining the crown mean anything again. "Let's keep going. We still have much to tour of the academy. I understand the news may be difficult, but. . . . .you are a criminal essentially. You've lost much of your rights, though you may have a chance to reclaim them if you choose to cooperate." He was crying even, if she weren't trying to be as sympathetic as she could while maintaining an air of authority and power, she'd laugh at the fool. He was a rebel and a criminal and deserved every infliction of pain upon his person. It wasn't her job to console him right now or win him over just yet. The man was just as prejudiced towards her as she was biased towards him. She didn't bother trying to sound utterly concerned for him or convincing, she knew she wouldn't even if she really were feeling that way. She was though, professional and experienced, raised to be a speaker and leader after all. If not because of her status of being among the Royal Family, then because she had also had a wonderful education at Cosmina Academy.

Nevertheless the tour would continue, as Alva began to walk, looking sadly and disappointed at Alexander as she passed, her guards and escorts soon following and dragging the rebel along soon after. They would visit the generator and server rooms first. Alex's involvement in their commentary and touring would be minimal she assumed as compared to any classrooms, workshops, or supply depots. She nonetheless invited him to speak, asking which way as before, and continuing on even if he didn't answer. "You know I wonder how our servers and generators here could be improved. They power everything within the academy and on its grounds, but perhaps the Imperials technology could expand our resources further. Sad though we had to trade so much away just to begin gaining peace again. I had plans in place even to deal with matters, others can be so impatient for results though. And the matter of rebellion isn't entirely handled still either. Its a shame. I have thoughts on those though. . . . .ah this academy is a wonder isn't it. It has a much more grand and robust style around sturdiness rather than the intricacy of Cosmina."

 

[Agatha Nestor]

As Alva, and the majority of the guards accompanying her began moving onwards with their little tour, the two soldiers standing besides Alexander gently slid their arms under his shoulder, and lifted him a few millimeters off the ground with their combined strength, as the man kept his face buried in one of his palms, the other weakly attempting to wipe off the tears and mucus streaming down his face. His sobbing slowly died down over the span of several minutes, replaced with occasional whimpering and hiccups, as the woman in front led them through a maze of hallways and staircases, going up several levels before returning to the ground floor. They were taking the scenic route to reach their next destination, stopping occasionally to peer through a doorway or another and quickly inspect it's contents before carrying on, apparently being delighted in the amount of attention she was receiving from the students, and the looks of pity, contempt, and disgust Alexander was receiving from them as well.

Reaching another pair of metal doors on an opposite side of the Academy, two soldiers once again posted themselves on opposite ends and pushed them apart, finding themselves on a stone pathway again. Going for a few feet away from the Academy, it split itself into three directions. Two of the paths encircled around the main building, diverging again afterwards to reach several other buildings and, inadvertently, the main plaza. The third one, and the one the woman led the group onto, led directly in front of them, towards a relatively small building, it's entrance guarded by two soldiers in less extravagant armor than the ones protecting Alva.

"'Yer a bloody hypocrite."

He spoke in a soft tone, subtle anger and annoyance detectable in his shaky voice. He managed to get his emotions somewhat under control for the time being, but seemed to be still unable to form a long sentence without breaking down and becoming unintelligible.

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

Honestly by this point the Crinan princess was wondering just how stupid people could be, especially the man she was having dragged around behind her. This was someone who had even gotten himself a thorough education and she knew there were always plenty of courses on philosophy and politics available. The utter lack of understanding and complete stubbornness to remain a blind and petty fool was beginning to grind on Alva's nerves. The crying and whimpering was pitiful enough, but she was willing to overlook it considering how crushing all the news likely was to the man, even if he was a damnable rebel.

However, when Alexander spoke up again to call her a hypocrite she couldn't help but sigh in irritation and annoyance. At this point after having walked around so much having given the traitor to authority ample time and opportunity to come to understand things she was close to done with him. Even with no one around she couldn't just hit him if she wanted her goals to come to fruition, but she did use a simple telekinetic spell. . . the Imperials problem with Practitioner belief could shove it, and threw a small rock at the back of Alex's head while she stood before him patiently waiting for the doors to the generator room to open.

"I'm the hypocrite? You betrayed your world and its order to blame the Royalists for your family's death, even though your uncle met his fate at the hands of the rebellion. You stick to looking at only one side of a problem and blame everyone else who thinks otherwise regardless of their actual involvement in matters. I didn't invite Imperials to Crina nor would I have, you rebels finally got the outside connection and look what happened, you pressed the patience of the Generals and King and this was the result. I've lost much because of it but you don't see me shooting every rebel in the dungeons or starting a new rebellion do you? You're blind and ignorant and arrogant. Stop thinking like some man stuck in the stone age." Looking throughout the generator and servers Alva found herself rather pleased. Powering the academy and its defensive emplacements, this room was rather important, and typically well defended during emergency and required proper clearance. Perhaps in the future Imperials could bring in a stronger power source and they could see about adding a shield generator to the complex as well.

 

[Agatha Nestor]

Noticing the stiff mannerism of their ruler, and the irritation in her voice, the two soldiers carrying Alexander looked down pitifully at the man, and then at each other. While their helmets completely obscured their faces from all prying eyes, their less than subtle mannerism left little room for imagination, as they were silently arguing amongst themselves as to who should discipline the man, 'lest all three of them feel her wrath. A small rock whizzing past both of them, and colliding with the back of Alexanders head, caught them by surprise, making them quickly look over their shoulder, only to see nobody else hanging around in the area. They both exhaled in relief as they assumed Alva did their work for them, while Alexander let his head hang low, muttering insults and whizzing through his teeth as blood poured down his nape.

They found themselves in a small room with a low ceiling and dim illumination, what little there was provided either by the generators themselves, or the security doors and cameras scattered through the area. One of the soldiers quickly pressed a small button on the wall next to the entrance, before the doors closed behind them, lighting the entire room in a bright, white light. Numerous cables were strewn around the floor and on the walls, leading from one room to another. A table was placed on the side opposite of the light switch, a computer connected to the power source, used to measure the power production and consumption of the generators, as well as the condition of the power lines through the academy. Four doors were placed on each wall, one leading outside, while the other three leading to identical rooms within the building. Each room had been separated based on what part of the area they were supposed to power up.

"Lanius . . . 'ad a noble death." Alexander spoke up once the woman was done talking, his expression sorrowful and his tone melancholic, quickly turning into a more aggressive one as he continued speaking. "He died savin' othas, while ye' and 'yer ilk ordered their end. I ain't a bettah man than me uncle, but neither are 'ye and 'yer own. And when it comes down ta' it, I diddun lose ta' war."

[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

Oh now she was having close to enough of it, but Alva wasn't about to let some forsaken bastard have his way with words. Not when she knew oh so how to deliciously tear him apart with words herself. So instead she laughed at his remarks, laughed at his hypocrisy, laughed at his shame and his pathetic and foolish nature. With a snap of her fingers and a sigh at the end of her laugh she signaled the guards to picks the traitor up again so they could leave the generators, not that she wanted to take much longer. This was all pretty much over. Alexander Nester was a bastard and a stupid human being, his family deserved what they got, they suffered for his stupidity. It was the will of the world, he was an arrogant and ignorant human being, so others would be punished because he was too stupid to understand it if it happened to him.

Stepping out of the room, Alva paused only to consider where they could go next. . . .and smiled as she heard her guards and escorts rough up the rebel a bit. Kicks and a few fists would rain on Alexander's face and ribs for a minute before Alva deigned to call off the soldiers. "And what about your rebel leaders who order the deaths of others as well? I've only killed anyone in self defense, but how many others like your uncle did the rebels kill? Sure, the Royal Army has claimed innocents as well, but I don't see where that falls on me. I don't command them directly, I don't send them where they ought. You though. . . .how many did you kill never questioning your orders? You wanted petty satisfaction because you're so stupid, I'll have to have a look into the curriculum, because it shames Crina for anyone from its Academies to be so blindly arrogant and stupid as you are. You're parents died so you blame the Royals because its easy and you can't accept life. That was no one's fault but those who pulled the trigger, and who knows what the situation there was like. But you want to know who you can blame for certain for something? You can blame yourself for your Uncle's death. You're selfish and childish actions left him destroyed, you who betrayed our world after he cared and did so much for you to help save it. You're actions caused him to try and stand up for your fallen family members so that you're shame did not stain them. He risked his life as a civilian, wearing his Royal Markings as he did so, just because he believed in justice and order, and not the anarchy that started this pointless war. An anarchy you supported and shamed him by joining. You broke his heart, you pushed him to lengths beyond his duty. I know I lost the war, I lost any chance of being Queen and having any actual authority, the Imperials own this world now. But at least I'm not a fool like you who refuses to help his world, to the point he ignores the one chance he's being given to help make things better, all because you're a child who didn't get his way and wants to blame others for his misfortune. You only have yourself to blame. For your imprisonment, for your failure to win the war, and for your uncle's death. If you can't even stop and think like an adult for just a moment after all this you can just rot with that knowledge until you waste away."

 

[Agatha Nestor]

Once the woman had snapped her fingers and proceeded to move on, the soldiers standing guard by her side quickly glanced at each other. They began to silently attempt to communicate with each other, substituting their speech for frantic mannerism, motioning their hands amongst themselves and towards the group surrounding Nester. They quickly seemed to reach an agreement, sharing a single nod of the head between themselves, as two of the guards hurriedly scurried away from their ruler, and towards Nester at a brisk pace. Exchanging a knowing glance, Alexander could feel himself being slightly lowered as the men holding onto him slumped their shoulders in dejection, before quickly being lifted back up as he traded hands. The two that were entrusted with keeping him on a leash slowly made their way towards the woman, their walk halfhearted as they whispered to each other.

With new found vigor, the men roughly placed him on his feet, marching across the room towards the exit, before stopping a few feet away from the door frame and staring at their ruler. Peeking over the door frame into the open, they took another step back, as one man began to pummel him without remorse, as another kept his hands at the back in a tight grip with one hand, the other muffling his voice. They made sure to avoid hitting the man in the face, focusing entirely onto his ribs and thighs with the blunt of their force. A few seconds later, they followed the rest of the group, exiting in the main courtyard alongside Nester, his ears reddened and cheeks more flushed than before. His face was winced in pain, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Ye' . . . Ye' ever been told . . ." The man spoke between heavy breaths and violent coughs, spitting out blood and phlegm onto the grass before he continued. "Ye' sound like a korkin' twa-UGH!" A quick fist into his stomach cut him off mid-sentence, pushing his body backwards and making him lean forwards as it sent him into another violent coughing fit, drooling blood onto the stone beneath him. "An' . . . for somewan callin' othas childish . . ." He continued, not fearing neither death nor punishment for whatever he would say anymore, as he already felt there was nothing left of value for him to lose anymore. "'Ye sure like ta' project 'yer insecurities and failures on me."


[member="Alva Calvarona"]

 

[Alva Calvarona]

[member="Alexander Nester"]

Alva couldn't help but sigh. They were done here. This charade had gone on far enough and the rebel had made her more than furious with his refusal to show a mediome of intelligence. Not only did the fool not understand, but he willingly resisted full of ignorance and arrogance blind to only his selfish needs. Certainly Alva herself knew she was being selfish, but her greed was at least aimed to benefit Crina as a whole, the only thing that Alexander Nestor seemed to care about on the other hand was fulfilling a base desire to blame everyone else for his problems and then sait his bloodlust by murdering them. if he really cared about Crina he'd stop blaming the Royal Family as if they personally were out to kill his family and every innocent on Crina and actually focus on improving the world when it faced the problems it had now.

It made her furious! Enraged! But she wouldn't just lock him away or kill him. His stupidity needed to be made an example of, she just had to think of what. She would give him a full and threatening speech later, let herself sound more generous now still. "I don't think this will go anywhere, I suppose it was fruitless to hope a rebel would truly care for his people. For your selfishness you will be returned to the dungeons. For your stupidity and ignorance in Crina's current state, and for your arrogance and self centered nature a new punishment will await you fitting for your sins."