“King Arohoanda,” Hezago said, smiling primly,”You and your nation, the Cape Republic, have had the… privilege of remaining independent. You won’t even have to pay any reparations!” Arohoanda, sitting across from New Galaxia’s president, while Hezago stood behind him, frowned, Aladora speaking. “Are you sure the people will be okay with just… letting them go?” Hezago smiled knowingly, speaking thereafter. “They’ll have no choice but to, after all it is from their royalty. Done with the signing, Arohoanda?”
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Arohoanda’s hand hovered over the last and final signature, hesitant. He set the fountain pen down, a worried look upon his face. “We- we can’t remain independent.” “How so?” Aladora asked, impatient. There were two other surrendering nations she had to get to, and this, in her opinion, was taking too long. “Well, we’re very unstable as of now, and protests, they’re ravaging the-” “You realise this is all your fault, right? You declared war on us so-” “We didn't ask you to level every major city we had! Our population centres, gone!” Aladora simply smiled in response. “Deal with it, then.”
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“Why can’t you just annex us?” Hezago blinked at him. “Ah, you see, your people- they hate us. So the riots you deal with? You can deal with that. They’re aggressively racist to people from other cities, of all things, and that type of thing is something I don’t have time for, nor do I care for it. So on with the signing, Arohoanda, haven’t got all day!” “But-” Hezago’s smile now had a strain to it, of which could be felt. “A continuation of the war, I suppose?” Arohoanda opened his mouth to speak, then closed it quickly. He simply stayed silent, signing the peace deal.
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Yemen and Peninsula to go.
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. . .
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11:30 A.M.
Greater Gloria City, Gloria Terr. (Ownership Disputed)
Terr. Capitol (Ownership Disputed)
Glorium Council Building
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“Well I’ll be damned. Blood! All over me! Just… fantastic.” Hezago said, as Rosalene, frowning at the splatter of red that damaged his dress. The damn thing was worth more than all of the republic of the isles, but that isn't important.
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He was standing north of the council building, albeit multiple miles away. He frowned some more, picking up his dress once again. There was an ire only rivalled by gang violence on his face, and he sped off into the horizon once again, leaving a crackling trail of dust behind.
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. . .
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He came to a sudden halt, heels spotted in blood, of which quite obviously caught the attention of the four that stood before him. “So you’re… defending them! How… pointless.” They were caught off guard by the sudden anger displayed in Hezago’s voice, and looked him up and down, the blood on his dress starting to brown. “Very well then. How are we going to do this? One by one? Or-” The quartered drew their wands. “Ah, I see how it is. Very well then.” Hezago drew his wand, smiling thinly. “Let’s get this over with.”
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Hezago took stance, then out of nowhere, charged. His hair refused to flow behind him, physics not affecting it in the slightest, as the quartet cast whatever came to mind, unprepared for his charge. The spells hit nothing, and not by fault of theirs, but the reason for such would dutifully be answered by a sickening crack.
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The other three turned to look, and found their comrade fallen. Hezago, being as magically adept as he was, distracted them with his charge, teleported behind one of them, and with the force of a mother beating the life out of their child for being annoying in public to the power of nine hundred and sixty four, he had kicked them in the back, sending their heart flying out of their chest, leaving a trail of blood behind as it rolled down the hill that they stood upon, like a duckling trying to gain its footing.
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Hezago straightened up, still thinly smiling as another of the now trio disposed of their wand, switching to a wandless format. “Ah. At least one of you has talent.” Hezago stood there, almost as if he was posing for a portrait, before glitching violently and launching a nonsensical barrage of punches at his new opponent. Mach 2 proved to be the speed he was going, and his opponent of the soon to be duo was putting up good defence. The ground had quaked upon first impact, and now winds worthy of a category four hurricane had formed.
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“Oh. You’re holding up. How… lovely. I suppose I’ll up the speed, then. The speed of light it is.” And the results proved to be- well, speedier. The only things that could now be seen were simply flying fists, and a wizard on the verge of tears, very much fearing for their life. The wizard kept strong, and Hezago was getting impatient. “Oh, damn it, I have better things to do than this! Elselxior!”
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And upon the increase of speed, death was the only thing visible. One punch took out each of the wizard’s arms. And another went straight through his head. He fell limp, and Hezago stood there, letting it slide off his now crimson stained gloved hands like a loose bracelet. The wizard’s body parts were spread apart like a broken doll, a life proved pointless.
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Hezago once again stood in that portrait ready pose before speaking. “I simply don’t want to deal with you.” Black tentacles (I’m sure you remember those) rose up out of the blood ground and began to sneak up on the remaining duo, intentions very much clear. It would impose upon them goodbye.
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Hezago then masked a bright smile, saying two words; “Good bye.” And the tentacles grabbed them by the ankles, pulling them into the ground. Hezago watched, a smiling disdain on his eyes. “By Melbourne, that took too long…” He muttered, adjusting his strapless gown. ‘Now,” He picked up his dress, “off to the capitol.”
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And he set off, only a trail of flame being left behind.
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. . .
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And finally, the castle. The place where the council was housed; Their glorian version, of course. Hezago walked in, the grand hall pitch black, but since when did things so trivial as that stop Hezago?
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He barged into the commons floor, to find its members with their wands drawn, uselessly so, as Hezago could quite easily overpower them all. Hezago looked slowly at them, before speaking. “Ah. Hello.” They were very much concerned by his blood splattered appearance, but were otherwise unshaken. “I’ve, ah, dealt with the four you’ve sent out there, I’d say they put up a good fight.” He looked at some of their members, of which he recognized, and noticed piles of documents galore strewn across the floor, likely a result of unending bickering that their infallibly useless brains couldn't put to an end.
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“Now,” He said, standing before them, “Those who no longer find Borealia supportable may depart, I see no use in ending you. The others- well, we’ll see.” And as if somebody had emptied out a drawer looking for something, the entire room was empty, with most disappearing, some with cracks and others without, seeing no need to forfeit their existence.
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But then again, the key word was almost. There still stood a former high speaker, one who just so happened to know Hezago’s mother, Auoriana. What a coincidence.
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The man, a descendant from the Worth side of the Worth-Dallatine family, gritted his teeth as he looked upon Hezago, muttering. “Cowards…” He said, to which Hezago simply chuckled at. “I think the only coward here is you. Thinking you could escape the Borealis Lineage? But, aha, look what we have here, you’ve finally been found.” He smiled up at Worthington, who frowned with disdain at him, crossing his arms, almost as if impatient. “I wasn't running from anyone-” “Then why was it you fled to Gloria, a place you should not have been in, to try to get away from my father’s ire?” Worthington opened his mouth to speak before closing it.
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“I had my reasons.” “Ah, so that’s why the council stated you were ‘forced into hiding’ when they reignaurated you?” “That- That’s just rhetoric that floated around, nothing true at all!” “Ah, no need to get your temper up, not just yet.” He appeared next to Worthington on the podium he’d been standing on, startling the man. “But now; I have many questions for you.” “And who says I’m going to answer them?” Hezago simply smiled, looking Worthington right in the eye. “Oh the things I could do…” Worthington was very much reproachful, and still was when Hezago asked his first question.
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“Why do you try to… how should I put this… sell me?” Worthington was very much confused. “Sell you? You’ve been the monarch the entire time, what are you talking about-” “You misunderstand, and you are desperately misinformed. You puppet the council- don’t act so surprised- and lead them, where once my mother could veto any bill, to a point where I am a mere decoration to the people, and I could only propose laws.”
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“But I simply ask; why were you so power thirsty? What problem was there keeping a system that had already been in place since time itself? And why, were you so desperate to enter marital union with the Kingdom of Lohans?”
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Worthington opened his mouth to speak and found no words. Hezago refused this reaction. “Answer my questions, Worthington?” The man, aged yet so immature, rolled his eyes. “You were a child; why would anyone in their right mind give a nine year old the governing ship of a country? And I don’t see why you’re complaining anyways, Prince Leonard’s kingdom fell anyways, so there was no need to enter marital union, no problem there.”
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Hezago tensed ever so slightly upon the prince’s name being mentioned, but Worthington’s insensitivity didn't allow him to notice that. “Nine years. Ha, when I tried to pass an animal endangerment protection bill, yet mother had passed a sixteen trillion dollar infrastructure bill by four. My bill was shot down; because of you. But now is no time to dwell on that. With the power of calling the people to protest and being brutally honest about your council, and a dash of using your loopholes against you, I managed to still better Borealia more than you ever could.”
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“But yet again, that’s not why I’m here. You had ire against me when I successfully ‘forced’ through my first laws, the Right to a Public Curriculum clause, along with the Right to Sue Any Entity clause. You took it upon yourself to hijack a train I spent years working on. My Borearcis was front and centre of a train crash that nearly destroyed the moon, our Luna. I was criticised for that. Why did you do it?”
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Hezago looked at Worthington with a face blanker than a sheet of white paper, emotion unreadable. Worthington replied. “Well, you simply got in the way. We told you the lawmaking process was our responsibility, and you were by no means to intervene. Your train’s boiler exploding with you in it were simply consequences you put upon yourself.”
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Hezago stood, silently outraged. Consequences put upon myself? A metal beam through the eye was not a consequence many deserved! And the moon might as well be gone, if not for the fact I took all the impact! I’d have died if not for the fact I was a Borealis, Soldamnit!
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Wait-
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Soldamnit.
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Hezago turned once again toward Worthington, speaking. “Why did you promote the religion of Sol, or Joy, whatever you call it?” Worthington chuckled, the senile old man. “To distract you. Why not give you responsibilities we didn't have to implace? Attend whatever tradition your new followers deemed holy, and if you denied, well, the consequences were on you. But you worked so hard to keep up a good image; there were excuses you made I could never have made in a nonillion years, so that ended up backfiring on us; they thought you had some ‘cElEsTiAl dUtIeS’ to attend to, which is why no matter what we did, your image always remained pristine, simply because you could actually do the stuff they said you could. Ah, the Goikan Terrazaster was useless after all.”
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Hezago paused. “That was you?” “Of course! Where else would a terrorist group find nine thousand pounds of gaseous uranium?” Hezago wanted nothing more than to punch Worthington, but kept on his facade of calm. “Ninety four million people died in that.” “Ah, never read the reports, so don’t really know much on that account.” “The Goikan Forests, a national treasure, was practically eviscerated that day-” “Of which I am well aware of. Used to go fishing by the lake shore, but now I can’t.”
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Hezago simply blinked. “I see. Well, as the saying goes, all things must come to an end.” Worthington turned toward him, fearful. “Wait-” “Six hundred years. From a family friend to an enemy worthy only of death. Well, ninety four million people will be welcoming you with open arms. Worthington-” “Wait- you can’t!” “I hereby revoke your immortality.” And Worthington screamed, turning to dust, as the castle crumbled alongside him.
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“Tch, all things must come to an end? I won’t. That won’t happen this time.” Hezago looked toward the setting star. It was fake, a thing Melbourne Borealis put there to make the dead feel more comfortable. A clock tower stood in the distance, simply ringing.
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Hezago frowned at it, though the expression was void of any negative emotion.
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“Took you long enough.”
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Hi! Welcome to the Borealis's list of fun facts!
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Did you know?
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The clocktower mentioned still stands! Now surrounded by 1st Elizabethan era like buildings, it gracefully ticks its life onward, giving the time proper, and controlling it for Gloria all the same! It changes colours to match with the season, and all who come visit during christmas time receive a gift that satisfies their wildest wants. It sits on a plot of land directly governed by the crown, four kilometres in each cardinal direction, forming a square. Its status is akin to that of the old Washington D.C. plot, as it contests for provincehood, but the presence of the ‘Great Glorian Time Tower’ makes such practically impossible.
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And they told me; Just move elsewhere! I said, are you crazy? I can’t Afford it!
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Hey. Hey! This is your last info snippet from Wide Sun Production’s Fact Factory! Your free trial is over, so select your new payment plan at:
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