Democracy

The Antediluvian Intranet was filled with propaganda overnight. Propaganda that talked about a mystical warlord that is saving the war in Concursus, who fought valiantly to secure the planet for the cause of the Empire. It went into intrinsic detail as to why people should care about this war, this man, and the disturbances brought upon him by the Senate which they called “Untrustworthy.”

It called upon the average man to stand up against its oppressive state government, one way or another. Now, whether it was an effective tactic or not is up for debate, but overnight, there were a hundred thousand standing in the steps of the Senate Hall. They all called for special elections, they all called for the things Julius wanted in his propaganda, to escalate the war further, to send troops to the amazonias and complete Julius’ conquest “for the empire.”

Of course this wasn’t everything he wanted, but now he had the once disinterested people in his hands. It’s a wonder what a dash of propaganda could do. Of course, this riled up the senate. There was Brutus who was relentless in his sayings of ‘I told you so!’ And there were the pro-Julian senators who were trying to calm down the senate in any way they could.

“We cannot condemn Julius! He has done so much for the campaign, pulling out now would prove detrimental to the name of every person in this room!” Reasoned Metternich, and for the other senators, there were merits to his words. What was said and done has already been that, said and done.

For Seneca, this was troubling, for one thing, this was directly against their deal of keeping the peace. Julius has essentially rallied the people against the senate, turning himself into an overnight celebrity. Now, he was faced with a dilemma, one he can’t be so sure he’d be able to answer knowing the disjointed state of the senate nowadays.

Veto, dictatoria, the things that Seneca wished to bury under the graves of the previous administrations. But now, he felt the need to do so, of course he wouldn’t give Julius dictatorial powers, that would just be absurd! Instead, he smacked his gavel twice, “Silence! In this time of crisis,”

“NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Protested Brutus, he knew well what those few lines meant, he told all his supporters to collectively protest, but it seemed that only he and eight other people didn’t want Seneca to hand himself Dictatorial powers.

Eventually, Seneca finished his speech. And it is declared.

“As first man, the Consular Dictatorum of the Great Antediluvian Empire, I command the Legions of a thousand planets, a thousand systems in the palm of my hand. But I will be liberal in my use of these legions, for what are their use if not for conquest and the defense of our great Empire? Thusly I command six million able men all over the empire to form into Legio XXIV Expeditio Amazonium and be helmed under the command of Julius von Kaiser, hereby…” He struggled with his next few words, his lips shook and he could not maintain his steady breath, “Hereby Noble General of the Empire.”

It was a speech that not only emboldened Julius’ claim of nobility, but it resonated with the crowd, being officially recognized as the savior an Empire that never needed saving, an empire destabilized by one man who, because of the ineptitude of the senate, rose into public fame.

“Sons of Mars, save our souls.” Seneca whispered to himself as he heard the crowd outside in their rapturous cheers, he was under the influence, under the mercy of the people he served. As I should be. He thought to himself, perhaps to cope.

*

“Democracy is dead.” That was how Brutus began his speech under the floorboards of the Theater of Venus, the democratic function of the empire was dead according to him, it was killed when Seneca declared himself dictator to quell the crowds.

With him, in a circular table such that no man may be greater than the other, sat seven other people. It was seven people that, for the purpose of Brutus’ ambitions, weren’t really that important, indeed, he only saw them as a way to build up the mirage of his greatness. His first followers, as some may say.

This entire facade of the circular table, a way to harken back to the roundtable of legends, but he wasn’t genuine. Mars knows he couldn’t be anything less than disingenuous in how he’d treat these men, “And we must get democracy back! Even if by force!” His seven followers followed his cheers.

There was a storm brewing in the Antediluvian Empire. Something sinister, something severe, and though one man cannot bear to touch the severity of this storm, he could certainly feel it. Like a crack in the wall where air from the outside slowly blows through it. The chill of the air could be felt, but the source cannot be found.

Just as Brutus Junius planned for an armed incursion, so too did the numerous factions that lived under the conquered planets of the Antediluvian Empire planned theirs. They integrated, reintegrated, and planned for an attack.

Over the next few days, as the six million soldiers slowly trickled in from numerous planets, Brutus armed his followers, which slowly but surely grew into the thousands, the angered factions of the Antediluvian Empire also armed themselves.

Seneca prayed.

He prayed for the safety of his people amidst the conflicting ambitions of the people around him, he lamented peace, he lamented war, he lamented stability which was all he ever desired. Maybe it was never really meant for his empire built from war. But nevertheless, he thought he’d be the name that would transition the empire from conquestalism to stability in working with the rest of the galaxy.

He wept in his hubris.

All the while, Brutus lamented about something else. For he could build an entire army of soldiers loyal to him in a span of less than a week but could not win the war of Amazonias by himself, how could he ever hope to beat out Julius? He doesn’t know, frankly he doesn’t care.

His goal was never the Amazonias, nor beating Julius. He already knows he lost in the countless matches they’ve had way back. He eyed a bigger objective, one that was presented to him but acted against it in the first place. Brutus wanted to be emperor, consul, dictator, first man, whatever name they put upon the throne. He wanted it to be his.