Post Election

Avon sighed as he brushed his Needaimus bonded shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was pushing some dust away or merely imagined it due to his father’s lack of use over the years. The old man likely couldn’t survive in any proper fight anymore. The elder prince flipped his hair as the vehakul stopped, and his chauffeur opened the door. With a smirk, he stepped out and looked up at the blocky Hobusian castle. It was all his now, and he would use it wisely.

The front door of the castle—a large metal contraption with spikes jutting out the front—creaked open, and the head of a servant poked out. His lips moved around, sliding back and forth, a couple of times before he spoke: “Avon, sir… King Avon, sir, we… welcome back. I… I trust ever… everything went well?”

“Of course! Who do you think I am, Clive?” Avon strode through the door as Clive held it open. The servant scurried after, letting the large door shut with a heavy boom behind them as he stayed just behind the new king.

“S… So you told yo… you’re father?”

“Every bit of it! You should have seen the look on his face!”

“Don’t you wo… worry he’ll be… be mad?”

“He will come around once he sees the results! Now is everything prepared?”

“Th… the room is, bu… but most the others wanted to wait until a… after the election.”

Avon rolled his eyes and began to twist the tips of some hair between his grey fingertips.

“Typical, no confidence,” he said with a laugh and a shrug. “Guess they’ve seen the error of their ways.”

“Of… of course, sir.”

Clive waved to a door on their left, and the duo stopped. Avon spun on his heel and gently but firmly grabbed Clive’s shoulders.

“Clive, this is the beginning of a new era for the Hobusians, and you get to be a key player!”

“No… no need for that, sir, I’m happy just se… seeing you make it to… to the throne.”

“That was a given, but think grander than that… what will the future hold?” To emphasize his words, Avon thrust one hand in the air like he was reaching for a star. He closed the open hand slowly into a fist when nothing conveniently fell in and turned to Clive with a smile. “But we still have work to be done.”

“Of co… course, sir. I shouldn’t neglect my du… duties!” Clive scrambled off before Avon could get another word. The prince shook his head and softly snorted.

“Different kind of work, Clive, but that is a burden only I must carry,” he said softly before entering the room. To the prince’s surprise, there was one Hobusian already waiting.

Her grey face was contorted into an unpleasant expression as she filed a fingernail, but it did not detract from her beauty.

“Celyn, what a sight to walk into!” Avon chirped as he skipped to the girl. She shivered as he ran his grey hand through her course white hair. The elder prince pulled away before she could slap him. “Is that anyway a queen should act?” Avon said with a smug face.

“You better hold a grand wedding; it took all sorts of convincing to get my family to shut up,” she said as she resumed filing her nails.

Avon stuck his hand in the air and spun on his heels in a complete circle.

“Why of course, there is no such occasion grander than the wedding of a king to his first wife!”

“First wife?”

“You don’t surely expect someone of grand stature to be bound so strictly.”

Celyn rolled her eyes and slid her file away. She pushed her hair neatly in place before resting her elbow on the table—her chin firmly pressed to her hand. The new queen looked at Avon with a sad look, but the prince didn’t mind. He spun away from her as sounds of feet came from the doorway. “Welcome!” King Avon said as he greeted the first group to arrive.

The pair of Ailsa and Alair looked like they wanted to spit on him, but doing so would have been a serious crime. Avon strode closer and grabbed each by a hand. “You both performed wonderfully!” he said.

“Spare us,” Alair was the first to speak, his voice sharp. “We were supposed to rest before facing each other.”

“We were all going to fight at some point; best to just let the winner take the early lead! Fighting my father isn’t the easiest thing to do, you know.”

“You sure made it seem like it was,” Ailsa sighed as she sat at the table.

“A wonderful observation, my dear. Would you be interested in being the King’s second wife?”

Ailsa slid down the table, away from Avon and closer to Celyn. She whispered something to the Queen.

“It’s necessary for my ambitions,” Celyn groaned.

“It’s not worth it,” Ailsa said as she looked at Avon, “whatever it is.”

The conversation ceased as more Hobusians began to shuffle into the meeting room. Heads from many departments and other important figures soon stared at Avon—some with angry expressions, some with happy expressions, and others neutral. The king jumped up on the long table and strutted down it like he was on a runway. He hopped to the floor at the head and spun to smile at the others.

“Wonderful to see everyone here! Though I would have been happier if more of you were here sooner…. It shows confidence in your future king!”

A bang on the table got the attention of everyone. An elder Hobusian wearing a military uniform stood up, keeping his six-fingered hand flat on the table.

“Spare us your cheap talk.” The man, Napoleon, was the military head of the Hobusians. He was shorter than most and known for his fiery temper and big mouth, which was on full display, “I think I speak for everyone when I ask, is what you said during the election going to be your policy as king?”

Avon grinned ear to ear. He knew such a question would come up; he was waiting for it.

“Of course!” Jumping back on the table, King Avon held his long arms to the sky. “I would pull down even Het and Tet for the sake of the Hobusian people!”

“Trying to pull down the suns would only get you burned,” Celyn said as she rolled her eyes. Avon crossed his arms and chuckled.

“It is good for a queen to challenge the king, but I will help you learn how to do it properly later.”

“You speak in grand terms,” interrupted Napoleon, “Why don’t you put it more concretely for old timers like me to understand.”

Avon sighed and shook his head. He strode across the table and crouched before the old war dog—patting his head gently and ignoring the scorn returned in Napoleon’s glare.

“Very well. The first thing we will do is strengthen our army. We’ve grown weak lately; an invasion would plow through to the castle in no time. I propose a strong push for even stronger fighters to join us!” With disgust, Napoleon pushed Avon’s hand away but nodded that he approved of the idea. “After which, we will invest in our technology. The Netzians have been getting busy lately, and we will be outpaced in no time.”

Avon began to pace back and forth down the table as he spoke—his heavy feet clanging between words.

“We will offer an incentive for young talent to join. I am thinking of guaranteed education for them or their families and decent retirement support. I am open to suggestions, but not if they try to pull a fast one on our recruits. We are too starved for our defense and infrastructure talent to ‘play it safe.’ I know some of you want to dial back my father’s past peacetime policies, but I’m telling you to do even better than that old fool, not prove him right.

“Once our military and technology are improved, we will take a year to get everything in order; we will start evaluating treaties. I plan to reopen negotiations with several nations. We will also be withdrawing from the annual conference. Not only is it a waste of time and resources, but we all saw what happened at the last one….”

Avon jumped off the end of the table and spun to the crowd. They were stunned if their faces were any indication, and he grinned with glee. He had spent countless nights planning for this moment and almost felt a shiver as he drank in the shocked looks.

“Any questions?” Avon asked. His words broke some stunned expressions, chiefly Napoleon’s, who crossed his arms and frowned.

“Very well, you have my attention. I will play along with you for now, King Avon, but don’t believe my loyalties are fully aligned with you.”

“I never would dare, my dear Napoleon, not to worry, I have all sorts of extra eyes who would keep tabs on you regardless of what you said here. Try to snuff them out if you like; it can be a fun game! I’m sure you’ve done the same?”

Napoleon snickered. “A funny one you are. Very well, I’ll take my leave; sounds like I finally can push the new barracks to be built.”

With his final words, the short—for a Hobusian—military leader hopped from his seat and strode out the door. Avon dismissed the others and waited until he was alone. He smiled and stared at the ceiling.

“Now the fun begins!” the young King said to no one as he drank in the moment. He took a deep breath, his smile not faltering, and shot out the door where his kingdom awaited.