Pleasant Little Kingdom

[Natasi Fortan]

THE BLUE PALACE​

2340 HOURS LOCAL TIME​

T-5 MINUTES: CHANGING OF THE GUARD​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piNnioXqpzk​

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It didn't have to be bloody to be cruel.

It didn't have to be brutal to be dishonorable.

As far as coups d'etat went, this was shaping up to be one of the most Galidraani in history. Vitalis was already inside the grounds of the Blue Palace by virtue of his rank as commander of the city's garrison, which incorporated the royal guard. His most trusted footsoldiers would soon be replacing the guards, so that the palace would be secure in the event that anyone tried to stop what was about to happen.

Not that anyone would. It was too late for that.

Dark eyes scanned the horizon; in the distance, beyond the river and park that surrounded the governor's mansion, the lights of Calavar burned quietly and efficiently -- like almost everything in the pleasant little kingdom of Galidraan. The planet's motto may as well have been a place for everything, and everything in its place. Order, dignity, honor -- these were the hallmarks of Galidraani society.

And Thaddeus Vitalis was about to trash all three.

He glanced at his watch in the pale moonlight; not long now. He took a small vial out of his coat pocket, unscrewed the cap and shook a tiny white pill onto his trembling palm, then clapped it to his mouth, tossing the pill into his mouth. It dissolved nearly instantly, and a moment later, he dropped his hand, now steady as a rock, back to his side. The vial disappeared back into his pocket, and the pain in his temples began to subside. He stretched his neck, rolling his head back to look up at the stars.

They were the issue.

In a universe without neighbors, the Galidraani system could have continued. He could be in bed now, instead of freezing in the gardens of the Blue Palace. But the Sith Empire was up in those stars, out there, hungry and sniffing. They had struck at Rhen Var in recent days, another chunk of space painted red, and Galidraan couldn't be far behind. And what did Governor Daltera do to prepare the planet for what was coming?

Did he order the defenses to be raised, to repel the invaders or die in the attempt? No.

Did he prepare plans to negotiate with the Imperials, to bargain for a position for Galidraan? No.

Daltera waited. He dithered. He hemmed. He hawed. He asked for advice and he never took it. He stared out the window. He sighed.

It was a problem. Thaddeus liked Daltera; he thought the Governor a conscientious and faithful public servant. But he was overcome, somehow. Paralyzed with indecision -- indecision that would ruin the Galidraani people. Thaddeus was torn from his dark ruminations when his wristwatch clicked, notifying him of the time he had set the quiet alarm for, and he suddenly felt nervous. In the distance, the sounds of ancient machinery started; the bridge gate was being raised to allow the changing of the guard. It was time.

"You two, with me," he said to his two most trusted Captains, Draven and Alderny. They fell into step beside and behind Vitalis, forming a triangle as he turned away from the railing overlooking the city. He walked along the central path, pausing in front of the large, circular parade ground on which the the changing of the guard took place. He watched as the ceremony, as quick and efficient as ever, transpired. When the old guard marched away, Vitalis turned his head to the right. "Follow them and get the gate. Meet me in the Audience Chamber when it's done."

"Sir," said Alderny, snapping a salute before turning to complete his orders.

"You have your orders," he told the Captain of the Guard, who nodded. Vitalis continued on towards the main building, let himself in through the back door. The palace was quiet; the guards patrolled the exterior, and automated security handled the interior. Or it would have, if it hadn't been disabled for maintenance. Vitalis' excuse for being present. He mounted the steps in the great hall, ascended to the third floor. His head turned to the left. "Fetch the Governor. Gently."

"Sir," said Draven.

Vitalis proceeded into the Audience Chamber, a magnificent room that could have been, with equal facility, a ballroom or an exhibition hall at a museum. It featured a raised platform with a large wooden and marble desk in the shape of a C. Rather than a throne, behind it sat a comfortable leather chair. There were other chairs in the room, which served as a room for state occasions, decrees, pleadings, and the like. Thaddeus stood in front of the desk and withdrew a scroll from his inside pocket, pulled it open, sat it on the desk. A few moments later, the scuffling of bare feet on marble could be heard and Vitalis turned to see Governor approaching in a dressing gown and pajama pants. "Vitalis -- what the devil is going on? Some sort of security threat?" he asked before stifling a yawn with his fist.

"Please sit down, Governor Daltera," said Thaddeus. "I'll explain everything. Leave us," he called to Draven, who had escorted the governor in before pausing at the door. He nodded and saluted, then left the room. Daltera, meanwhile had sat down behind his desk and put his reading glasses on and pulled the paper Vitalis had just unrolled towards him.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Daltera, a smirk on his face. "Some kind of joke?"

"No, sir." Thaddeus reached for the ceremonial pen that stood on a stand at the edge of the desk, then held it out to Daltera. "Sign it."

Daltera's smirk died as he realized what he was being asked to do. "Don't be absurd. I'm not signing that. How dare you come into my home -- who put you up to this? Your brother? His wife? The Blakes?"

"This isn't a discussion," Vitalis said sternly. "Sign it."

"Or what?"

That was really the question, wasn't it?

 

[Natasi Fortan]

The question hung between them, like breath on a cold winter day. "That's not the question you should be asking," said Thaddeus. He turned and casually walked towards the door. "The question you should be asking," he said, wrenching one of the gigantic latches into place, "is why?" He wrenched the other into place, and nearly lost in the reverberating echo was an insistent click-click-click-click! "You can keep doing that, but I feel like you should know your panic button isn't connected to anything. The signal isn't going to your guards and even if it was, the men on patrol tonight are with me."

With the door secured, Thaddeus turned and strolled back up the blue carpet to the desk. He stood and pushed his coat open so that he could rest his hand on his belt; whether by intention or by incident, this movement exposed the polished hilt of his blaster pistol. "Since the Silver Jedi collapsed, I have watched you sit behind this desk and waste time while events transpire outside our borders that could spell ruin for our people. The Sith Empire approach our borders and we don't know what their intentions are. And you have done -- nothing -- to prepare. Our military readiness is at the same level it was a year ago. No diplomatic efforts have been made to reach out to the Empire -- or any of the other galactic powers. You seem to be operating under the assumption that if you don't react, nothing bad can happen."

He leaned forward, placing a hand on the desk. "It cannot go on. You have lost the faith of your people. The Lords are too polite to say it, but you've lost them, too." He picked up the pen and once again held it out to Daltera. "We can protect you, Iain, if we do this right. Sign the document."

Daltera raised his chin defiantly; Thaddeus was almost pleased to see a backbone in the Governor at long last. But it was too little. It was too late. "Or what?" the Governor replied.

Thaddeus sighed and gave his head a sad shake. "Or I will kill you and your wife, and it will be a tragic assassination that will have the same outcome as if you signed that paper, retired quietly offworld, and let us get on with it." He dropped the pen with a solid clunk on the table. "It's your choice."