Walking through an African city felt different for Jack. He could not say because he landed in Kenya, as opposed to Egypt the year before, since the structure, the busy nature of the people in wartime, the beams of lights from holes above, the underground bazaars etc. all felt similar. In fact, despite the existence of a gaping cavern that allowed ships in and out, it didn’t change anything. Rather, the fact that he went about his journey as an ally of the population (instead of the traitor he once was), gave him a new, relieving feeling. No more worry about getting caught. No more imminent dread of missing some form of assassination deadline. No need to kill to take their identity. At least for now.
Besides him, trudged the ever-gloomy Skilshar and the always-talkative Elivia. He didn’t take part in their conversation yet still listened in as he stepped off the ship.
‘Alright! Where’s our home here?’ Elivia stretched out. ‘I want to sleep in an actual bed for once.’
‘Ehhhh, that’s what you’re complaining about?’ Skilshar responded, his face buried inside of his hood. ‘You’re lucky you’re actually getting sleep.’
‘Not my fault that you’re keeping yourself up at night, depressed at every inconvenience that happened that day.’
‘But that’s what makes Shilshar, Skilshar,’ Jack smirked. The once hard stance he had on the captain melted down throughout his travel (more than he would like to admit). ‘The hammocks were alright. Much better than what I had coming to Australia.’
‘See, I’m not alone here,’ Skilshar emerged triumphant.
‘Oi, don’t take his side,’ Elivia hissed. ‘Just because you can somehow sleep like a baby even during storms.’
‘I’m still tired, you do realise that?’ Jack signalled for her to shoo away. ‘If anything, all that bad weather did was mess up my knee, Elivia.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll have a look at it l–’
The medic squeaked at the last word, prompting Jack to look back. He found her staring at the floor, murmuring something under her breath. Her eyes glanced to and fro in a certain direction. What’s wrong? Jack raised his brows.
It took a while but Jack began to follow her line of sight. He looked down the ramp of the boat, towards the path that led to the main city, then at the city itself. He looked at the stone buildings where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He looked at the ceiling where the clear, blue skies could be seen from below. Finally, he scanned the massive crowd that moved in and out ahead of them. He wondered if Elivia spotted an enemy or if an unknown traitor blackmailed her into silence.
I can’t see it, the gears whirred in Jack’s mind as he stepped onto the ground. However, as he did so, he heard an unsatisfying quelch beneath him. He looked down at large globules of slime under his shoe. ‘Disgusting. It’s not this, is it?’
Elivia shook her head.
Thought as much, Jack continued surveying the area when, all of a sudden, in the corner of his eyes, he spotted the black and white suit of a tall man. And beside him was the small stature of a man he recognised in an instant. What is he doing here? How did he even get here so quickly?
‘You saw Bastion?’ Elivia whispered.
‘Mm,’ Jack grunted back.
Skilshar on the other hand took initiative and started a light jog, weaving in and out of the crowd like a shadow. Upon arriving, he sparked a conversation with the king until he looked up and beckoned the other two to come too.
‘Guess you need to be your “old” self again,’ he remarked. ‘Finally, some peace and quiet!’
‘You better zip it too,’ Jack could tell how much she seethed from his joke.
Though one thing did disturb the stealth bestial. The man who stood amongst the crowd, chattering and laughing with Skilshar, was Bastion…right? He was the famed king, ruler of the whole of Africa and Australia, right? For goodness’ sake, he owned whole rooms lavished with devices and technology no one else knew about. Of course, people knew about the living legend. Yet, no one paid mind to him as if Bastion went into stealth instead. Why?
‘Ey, Jackie boi. How’s my favourite sneaky-boy doing?’ the king scampered towards him, Alfred and Skilshar close to follow.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ Jack kneeled down. He looked around as he did so. However, no one batted an eye at Bastion still. ‘Can I ask something?’
‘Ah, I know exactly what you wanted to say,’ the man in boy’s clothing held out his hand. ‘You’re wondering how we got here so fast. Well, show them, Alfred.’
The always-suited butler pulled up a rolled-up sheet of paper from his pocket. He unravelled it, revealing a map from Australia to their current location. On it contained two lines. The first belonged to Skilshar’s ship with a straight line going from city to city. The other, however, went in all sorts of directions and did several loops across the ocean before landing in Kenya.
‘By all means, it doesn’t make sense, does it?’ the king beamed with joy.
Another reference to something? Jack got an understanding of those sorts of whims bit by bit. ‘No, it doesn’t. Although that wasn’t my question.’
‘It wasn’t?’ Bastion’s face crumpled. ‘It’s that woman, isn’t it? You can tell her to f*** off if that’s the case, you know that, right? Don’t let anyone give you a hard time unless it’s me.’
Jack almost burst out laughing. Sure, the “real” Elivia took him by surprise, but he wouldn’t say she gave him a hard time. Despite that thought process, he could feel glares stabbing him as if she didn’t believe his opinion of her.
‘No, sir, it’s that you are…how should I say it? The one at the very top, no? Then why is no one paying attention to you?’ Jack composed himself. He looked up and saw Bastion’s face crumpled. The king did not speak nor move. Instead, he turned his back and began walking in a slow, step-by-step, manner. Did I do something wrong?
‘All of you, follow me,’ Bastion instructed.
Jack gulped a little, turning to Elivia who kept her head down then to Skilshar who appeared as oblivious as always. At last, he turned to Alfred who gave him a glance of contempt.
‘Over here.’
They stopped outside a tall mound of dirt, about two Jacks in height, in the middle of nowhere. The other residents of the city didn’t interact with the monument at all but rather treated it as some form of natural structure. They walked past it without worry, too busy with their duties to stop and inspect it.
‘Pull the lever, Alfred!’ Bastion exclaimed all of a sudden, drawing some attention before everyone carried on with their work.
The butler nodded and felt around the sides. He found a dirt-covered rod which he dusted off before yanking at it when, all of a sudden, the ground began to shake. The mound of dirt started to collapse on itself, dust flying everywhere, until a staircase formed beneath a gaping hole left inside. Jack watched in awe. However, when he fancied a glance at Bastion, he did not look impressed in the slightest.
‘God dammit, Alfred! You were meant to pull the wrong lever then the right one afterwards,’ he threw a tantrum.
‘Apologies, sire,’ Alfred gave a simple, apologetic bow.
‘Ugh. Whatever, everyone come down. Make sure no one follows us,’ Bastion made a hand signal.
With a nod to one another, Skilshar, Elivia and Jack headed down the staircase while Alfred took the rear. Once everyone climbed a fair way down them, a door rose up from behind them, filling the hole in the mound once more. Alfred then flicked a switch which caused several luminescent lights to shine on either side of the walls.
‘Here’s a question for all of you: What does it mean to be a king, mm?’ Bastion asked with his back still turned and arms clasped behind him.
Elivia stayed silent. Meanwhile, Skilshar went for an immediate, ‘I don’t know.’
‘And you Jackie boi? I already know that Alfred knows my answer.’
Jack thought about it. If he wanted to, he could give nothing answers like the other two. Although, now that he pondered some more, he didn’t want to. These sorts of serious interactions didn’t come often; an opportunity he could not miss out on.
‘I think it’s being the ruler. It’s impossible for people to be fully in sync together,’ Jack stopped at his words as visions of Esper flooded his memory, ‘So what we need is someone to make the decisions on our behalf. And a battalion leader or mentor or whatever are just lesser forms of a king who governs everyone instead of a handful of people.’
‘Interesting. Veeeery interesting,’ Bastion slurred his words. ‘You see why he’s my favourite, Alfred? He knows what’s up!’
‘Yes, sire,’ Alfred agreed.
‘But you’re making one incy wincy misstep, Jackie boi. You’re thinking way too literally,’ the king looked over his shoulders for the first time. ‘You see, becoming an image gets you into too much trouble. Our target is called Gin Julius Gale according to our traitorous bastard of an ally, yes? Well, my great grandfather knew of another Julius who was an emperor. Guess what happened?’
Bastion paused for a moment, imitated a knife and began stabbing motions. His eyes brimmed with joy as the violent nature of the shanks got more violent. When he had his fill of the make-believe bloodshed, he carried on walking and resumed his speech.
‘You get the message. People, manush especially, are never uniform in thinking. You could never appease everyone. Be kind? Some people will see you as soft and want to kill you. You’re dead. Be more authoritative? Now some people will see you as a tyrant and start a revolution. You’re dead. Be smart, you’re a smart-ass. You’re dead. Be cheerful and optimistic, you’re not realising how badly everyone else is suffering. Dead. Too young? Dead. Too old? Dead. Cause a mass genocide to root out the discontents… Ha, well, let’s just say you’re f***-king dead for sure there.’
Silence filled the passageway.
‘Eh? Nobody? Bloody spoilsports. That was a good pun too,’ Bastion grumbled. ‘But the point stands. No matter how or who you are, someone’s out to get you. Some things you can’t even control like who your family are. Simply being the king causes jealousy amongst brothers or people don’t like your cousin twice removed. It’s all b*******, I tell you! Now, for an immortal genius such as I, I cannot allow that to happen. I’m immortal, not invincible, remember.’
The stairs stopped and so did Bastion. He held out his hand to another one of those metal pads which beeped, whirred and all other noises before another stone door opened in front of them.
‘This way,’ they all went forwards as the conversation continued. ‘Now to answer your question, my faithful servant, I simply found a solution to the age-old conundrum. I made the king not a person but an ideal. Now everyone is working for a being they’ve never seen with an authority that they can never usurp. After all, who are they gonna overthrow? Some random pleb and call him the king? Pfft, don’t make me laugh. I’ve worked too hard on the MBP for any of that to happen.’
‘Do you not care about people looking up to you?’ Jack asked without thinking. Regret crept up on him as he could tell Alfred looked down on his informal approach.
‘Pfft. Don’t make me laugh,’ Bastion wasn’t bothered, however. ‘Never wanted the job anyway so let me have my freedom. I can work in the shadows without a massive target on my back constantly. When you’ve lived as long as me, you start becoming less like an egotistical prick and actually enjoy the little things in life: like the revival of the manush!’
Before he knew it, Jack found himself inside a large room with a simple set of furniture: a round table, several chairs, torches and a whiteboard. Someone already sat on one of the chairs. That’s the hairy guy from the mission, right? Rob, I think.
The sasquatch bestial rose up, bowed his head at the king, then went back to his seat. ‘It’s good to see you, Bastion. Been a while, hasn’t it?’
‘It has. Give me the good news pronto,’ Bastion snapped back with a click of fingers.
‘Turns out you were right about the manush. I confirmed it myself.’
Bastion burst out in laughter. Not the kind where he heard something funny but rather a manic one. The one you’d hear when the mad scientist found the answer to his experiment. ‘Brilliant. That makes this mission all the more exciting! Settle down, everyone!’
Those standing up took a seat at the round table. They watched as Bastion waddled towards a specialised chair made with steps at the bottom and a throne-like visage on top. With a hefty climb (for someone so small), he sat on top, higher than anyone else in the room, accompanied by the greatest smile Jack had ever seen out of him.
‘As my trusted men, I will give you my plan. It’ll involve the tactics of Napoleon, the guile of the British navy, and the deceptive nature of Troy,’ Bastion smirked harder and leant forwards, ‘because if we play our cards right, I get not just one, but several manush all in one go.’
