Political Love of Country

“Mister Municipality.” Anetho took a moment to bow in deference to the head of the financial department. “Lovely to see you again.” Magister Len’thar Leviticus nodded, clapping his right hand flat against Dawnpride’s shoulder as he rose to stand his full height. “Its been far to long, Mister Red.” He replied just as courteously. “Quite so… I was almost worried you’d have forgotten me.” The Red Magister confessed. “What’s two years between friends?”

The second movement is a stolen one. Born of deception and treason by all rightful accounts. Within our very own sacred halls, the beliefs of the warmonger and blood-thirsty monster still hold reign over those likewise power hungry individuals whom have no scale or comprehension of consequences beyond their own livelihood. No sense of moral dignity or professional pride. Only in how much greater they themselves may be as individuals, gods amongst men, as it were.

I see such petty notions as nothing more than mere fantasies never to be indulged beyond simple bedside stories told to little ones. There is power, but only fools believe that one alone may possess the strength of Titan’s or Old Gods. An imbecile flaunts what they possess, but the truly wise reserve their strongest assets until the very last second. Surprise is an element that has turned many a battle; political and petty alike. One I enjoy quite frequently.

“…As much as I would like to say I’ve come here to reminisce… And believe me, there are many memories I would yet enjoy revisiting.” Anetho sighed, taking a seat opposite the Magister’s finely engraved oak desk. “Nostalgia.” Len’thar chuckled. “…It attacks us all in old age, from time to time…” He paused a moment to pour himself a drink. “What’s your fancy, Dawnpride?”

To impose one’s will is power. To warp another’s will is power greater still. But no one individual can ever dominate that inner voice, no spell craft will ever permanently suppress that inherit persona that drives us in our ambitions, be it greed or benevolence. The rationale behind this conjecture is that they seek such power in artifacts and in the embrace of mana. When in reality I alone possess the secret. The key to rewriting the mortal soul and it’s engineered method of thinking.

Though perhaps that is somewhat conceited to profess to myself in the moonlight. Surely there are others that possess this gift, this capacity to utterly destroy worlds and reforge them. To command the minds of others in such a way that goes beyond bribery, seduction, and even mind control. But I would dare the Gods to find one as astute in the craft as I. I have manipulated the core beliefs of the Demonkin and of mortals alike. Controlled public opinion; soaring as high in popularity as Sig Nicious, and stooping even lower than Arthas in the eyes of some.

“…Bourbon, if you’d please.” The Red Magister replied, removing a thin vial from within the first fold of his robes. He uncorked it slowly, and emptied the contents; a faintly glowing blue powder. Drawing them into a neat line along the desk he set it aside as the Financial Magister rested a small glass beside it. “Chasing new vices, Red?” Anetho chuckled, running his nose the length of the counter, snorting the glistening substance through his nostrils. He sat upright after a minute, exhaling in exhileration, wiggling his nose about as if a rabbit. “…Working up a spot of confidence, good sir. For you see… I’m not here to exchange pleasentries… I’m here to take you into custody.”

I suffer no loss of sleep over the displeasure of men once named as friends. I harbor no regrets in severing their strings when they cease to be of value and attempt to tug the hand that demands their attention. I shall harbor no evil, more pernicious or malignant that it’s toleration beyond what must be employed to it’s destruction. And I will uphold justice, the oath that I swore before a council of ten when first I took my seat amongst this most prestigious institution of men, the Magistrate.

I will defend those within the banner of the Phoenix, their interests, and their subsidiaries; even if they themselves choose to fight against the change that must be imposed to their well-being. I will sacrifice tens to save thousands. Burn thousands to ensure the future of millions. Incinerate the millions to protect the potential of billions.

“What madness is this, Anetho!?” Leviticus exclaimed, spilling the cup over the stacks of parchment cluttering his desk as two Blood Knights entered and flanked the door to his office. “Simply put, we’ve found evidence to support the accusation that you, Mister Muncipality, are involved in the illicit transaction of state funds to support the private interests of yourself and a select circle of colleagues in this ‘New Horde’. Presently, they conflict with the interests of the city-state in that those same interests also played part in the destabilization of our prior negotiations at the table of Stormwind.” Anetho set his feet atop the Magister’s desk with a smirk playing at his lips as he twirled a pair of arcane shackles idly. “…Your first mistake was in trusting me with the liquidation of my initial assets about a year ago… Then again when we became business partners in the affairs of lives. The second came in believing me when I told you that Mister Iloine was sleeping with your wife…. and that I was not.” Leviticus stared at Dawnpride with an almost incredulous look etched upon his face. “…You can’t believe that her lips would remained sealed forever amidst her great discontent.. Did you?” He threw the shackles at the Municipal Magister, as if expecting him to place them upon himself. “Your hands or their gauntlets. You decide, Mister Muncipality.”

…And I will always -destroy- the one…

…He that stands before progess…

…He that deigns to defy dreams of the future…

…Anaralah Belore…


~ by anethodawnpride on July 5, 2013.

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