- Nov 18, 2018
- The Gentleman King
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PALAST DER VOLKSREPUBLIK, WIEN
OFFICE OF THE PEOPLE'S CHANCELLOR
Horst stared at the half empty bottle of rum as he held a lighted up cigarette in between the fingers of his left hand. Outside, the thundering steps of the soldiers of the Volkswehr shocked the floor of his office. The open windows allowed the notes of traditional military marches to invade the room, disturbing his mind and deviating his thoughts inebriated by alcohol. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked to the windows. From the windows he could see thousands of citizens who had gathered to pay homage, for the last time, to their Weiser Fuhrer, their Wise Leader, whom they still regarded as a savior, as a father, as the "peerless great leader" Ostmark had never seen before.
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He knew he ruled with the support of the majority of the people despite deprivating them of political and civil rights. But he also knew of the actions of the State Security Service, and he was aware that thousands of dissidents and opposers had been ordered arrested or, in some cases, executed for daring to challenge his rule and, in general, the rule of the Grasser family.
The Volkskanzler closed the windows and sealed them. A spectral silence descended upon the room. Horst walked back to his chair, stumbling, and took a seat behind his desk. He loosened his tie and opened his jacket. Finally, probably for the first time in the past two years, he allowed his mind to deviate from the constant preoccupations regarding the state of the economy, geopolitics, diplomatic tensions, concerns related to welfare, the planning of the economy and all the issues he was constantly kept busy with, almost around the clock, seven days a week, 365 days a year. It was in that moment that Horst reached the drawer with his right hand and opened it. From the drawer he pulled out a picture of his defunct wife, Laura, and carefully placed it on his desk.
He stared at the picture, taken many years before, during a Freikorps Festival in his hometown, Wilhelmstadt. He stared at his wife's eyes for almost fifteen minutes, before someone suddenly opened the door. Andrea, his sister, slowly walked into the room and took a seat infront of his brother's desk. She silently grabbed the empty glass and poured a drop of rum, drinking it in one fast sip. Horst seemed as if he completely ignored his sister's presence in the room, but both he and his sister knew that their end was imminent. For how long could the regime keep control of the country? For how long will the State Security Service suppress the ever increasing demands for democracy, free elections and the release of all political prisoners?
The Volkskanzler opened a second drawer, on the right side of his desk, and pulled out a Kadikistani-made Tokarev pistol. He placed it in the center of his desk, next to his wife's picture, and finally met Andrea's eyesight. She had tears in her eyes, and so did he "What have we done.." said Horst. "..what had to be done" replied Andrea. "But it didn't bring her back" asked again the People's Chancellor, who for a brief moment looked at his wife's picture "No.. it didn't.." Andrea took a short pause, before continuing "Is it really over, Horst? Is this the end?". Horst smiled and nodded "I don't want to live in a world without National-Syndicalism, Andrea.." said the People's Chancellor "Neither do i, Horst..".
Andrea slowly reached for the gun. She firmly held it in his right hand and moved it closer to her face. She placed the tip of the pistol under her chin "Glory to the Volksrepublik Ostmark and the National-Syndicalist People's Party!" said Andrea, before pulling the trigger. Horst closed his eyes and jumped on his chair as the bullet blasted trought his sister's head. He quickly grabbed the gun from her hand, and aimed it under his chin. He stood up from his chair and looked down at his wife's picture, staring at her eyes as tears dropped down his face "Glory to the Volksrepublik Ostmark and the National-Syndicalist People's Party!".
"Laura, i'm coming..." After a few moments of hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
Later, that night...
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