Knives & Levels - Chapter 82

It had been a grand total of five hours since they conquered Denny and then marched to the city of New Nashville and declared the former dictator dead.

The reaction was mixed. Even now, Colt was still reeling from the change and surprised by just how fast the remainder of the guard had capitulated to them.

Colt stood in the office of the most prestigious of all within this little begrudging city in the middle of the apocalypse. Nominally, the White House was it. And within it, he was in the office that formed the hub of power of this city—the former office of the man he slew to free the people within it.

The office had wooden panel walls and a big round window overlooking the city outside. It positively buzzed with anticipation and worry as people darted to and fro. Nobody was working—and nobody could really be expected to, given the dramatic news that was circulating. How the people reacted would matter just as much as the guards.

They, at least, had given in, especially when provided with evidence of some of the atrocities committed by Denny and confirmed by the captured soldiers. 

He crossed his arms and looked around; some guards were still milling about, picking out pieces and documentation. This wasn’t going to be his office; the truth was, nobody knew what to do with it now, much less how they would pull the city together and figure out who would be in charge of it in the absence of Denny.

“Went better than I supposed,” Nate said as he stood next to Colt—the two had wanted to personally see to this spot to check if any major loot was stashed away. Any special items recovered by the dungeons, though, weren’t here.

“They’re lost, and we have power, and given we flat out said we killed Denny and took his most elite soldiers as prisoners…”

The truth was that the guard was still new. His loyalists had been defeated, and even those who had worn his crown mark and submitted to his authority were about fifty-fifty on regretting it.

Denny hadn’t been the most stable of leaders for the past couple of weeks.

So… The change of leadership and the declaration that there would be no more war with outsiders—well, they accepted that. The dealing with prisoners part…

“How many do they want to let go?”

“All of them. People know people, form friendships, and don’t see a need for them to remain ‘jailed up.’ Now that the person we’ve declared at the problem is taken care of.”

It’d been about five hours since Colt and his group had returned to the city. It took about two to talk their way in, though Colt’s soul felt sore and worn like a muscle abused to the point of failure. Oddly, with his new Edict, there was a certain sensation of being unbalanced, as if it were on the precipice of tipping over. Gaining Momentum had changed things. He felt it now in the air; the way things moved and their Momentum were two separate things, yet close.

He felt them circle in his soul. Momentum was not yet a Lesser Edict, and given their weight and influence in his soul, they were now out of sync.

He also had to figure out how to use Momentum, which would come in due time when he had time to practice.

Colt reached out to the power in the office, and winced, the pain of his soul immediate. But also it felt like putting his will into a pool of putty, hard to grasp or even untangle as he was right now, unbalanced and not fully understood.

The soul being sore too, was only a starting point; thankfully, the soreness in his body was just that. Healers within the city had gotten to him three hours after their surrender, repairing the physical aftermath of his confrontation with Denny.

“Nick is staying in a cell.” Colt offered, to a grunt of approval from Nate.

“They see you as a replacement for Denny. Talking to our people, the guards have gotten the idea you will take over the spot.”

“I’ve told them multiple times I have no intention of leading this city. I’m not here to be a dictator.” Colt reinforced again, baffled that Nate was now asking about it. Out of everyone, this guy should know he didn’t want to be a pure leader—he was the one who covered for Colt in the group and took on that role when it was needed.

Nate folded his arms, watching as the guards rifled through drawers, pulling out paper and shoving it into different bundles. Administrative and otherwise—documents that whoever the new regime would go to would be responsible for seeing through.

Colt ran a hand through his head and sighed.

There wasn’t any good loot here; he’d go and check in with Sarah—who should have Jimmy safe and secured by now. “Let me know if there’s any problems. We can work them out, and we will help New Nashville figure out who they want to lead them. But it’s not a job I want. There’s too much going on in this world, too many changes that have happened for us to settle in and take on the role of government officials. Unless that’s what you want to do. In which case, I can think of no better person to run for ‘governor.’”

Colt gave Nate a pat on the shoulder, only to hear a grunt from the man as he walked out of the office and, in steady order, out of the White House itself, finding himself once more on the street of the city.

When he arrived in the light of the day, the rushed rapids of conversation suddenly and dramatically stopped.

The eyes on him felt like a tangible weight—people stopped in the street to stare at the man who killed Denny.

There were neither cheers nor anyone screaming insults… Which went to show, that even amongst the people, what they had done was still being weighed in the court of public opinion. More details about Denny will leak out with time, but for now…

Colt straightened his shoulders and cut through the street with resolve, not letting judgments weigh him down. He was confident in his ability to get himself out of any situation. Even while still healing from the fighting.

These people were more free now than they had before, though some of them didn’t know it yet.

Information would flow, and with it, he trusted people would understand the gravity of the threat that had been there.

The street passed like grains of sand, slowly falling through an hourglass; each step was an exercise in patience as eyes followed him. In steady order, he left the busiest part of the city, the place immediately by the White House, and took to the outskirts.

Here, in the poorer-built buildings, where the start of New Nashville’s society’s lowest rung was being formed—he received some cheers rather than quiet stares.

This, too, he passed through as fast as he could manage, making his way to the stadium, and then into it—and then up further into the sides of it, climbing stairs and raising his way upward until he reached the ‘administrative offices’ hidden away above, a place which Colt hadn’t even known existed, until they questioned the ‘loyalists’ who they’d captured.

Leave it to Denny to construct a fancy building in the middle of the city for no real reason when he could’ve used the place already built into the city to serve as his office instead.

Colt shook his head, and then he reached it. Doors were thrown open. People were crying, united with their families. The whole place was a mess—citizens, guards, and everyone stashed up here.

He watched with his may slightly agape as he took in the scene. Feeling like he’d missed context. Wasn’t Jimmy supposed to be up here? What in the name of hell was this?

One of the guards noticed him.

“Your uh—your friends are further down that way.” He pointed down the hall, and Colt gave him a nod. He walked past the chaos of citizens and prisoners uniting. The hall twisted and turned, and then, he saw a door made of steel, which had been bashed in violently and without regard to itself, as evidenced by smeared blood left in the craters of metal.

Wow. Colt thought as he walked through the battered door. When had Sarah gotten this strong? 

Dutifully, he carried on and saw both Jimmy and Sarah in an office; the first thought he had was that the smell was awful. There was a bucket in the corner—that was the source of it, but even past that, there was a reek of sweat and blood. In fact, there was too much blood, decorating the carpets, decorating the table…

Jesus.

“Jimmy,” Colt said, voice going somber as he walked up to his friends. Jimmy was curled in Sarah’s arms, shaking.

“You guys came.” Jimmy said, his voice hoarse as he spoke; when he looked at Colt, those eyes were dark and empty, “He… He kept saying you were dead. But you came.”

“We came,” Colt said.

“And we killed him,” Sarah reassured Jimmy, pulling him closer. “I’d kill him again if I could—that son of a bitch.” 

Colt looked at the room—how many days had Jimmy been here? How many days had he withstood while Colt was acting out his plan on the outside? Had it been right? Should he have tried to infiltrate again… If he’d known…

To think, they’d been through the entirety of the Endless Dungeon, had suffered there not knowing they would get out, only for Jimmy to be thrown once again into an endless hell.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving over to crouch beside Jimmy—a deep sadness in his heart. There wasn’t fear there, but he still felt the tugging pain of seeing someone who he considered a friend hurt and treated in a way no human wished to be.

“You saved me.” Jimmy broke Sarah’s grip—to throw a hug around Colt, breaking out into a sob. Colt hugged him back, letting the emotions flow out of his friend, knowing that he was safe now. He and Nashville were safe now. As he held Jimmy, he promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone else fall into a horror like this. Not when he had the strength to prevent it and to rid the world of this kind of awfulness.

For a while, Colt determined, he would stay with Jimmy. As penance for leaving him alone for so long.

###

A lot can change in twenty four hours. A new life can come into the world—a dear friend can leave it—a city can fall, a government can be born. That last one wasn’t a reality yet, but Nate was staring at the paperwork on the desk that would see it happen, the reality was rapidly setting in.

This was a temporary pain Nate had taken on, one he was eager to be free of.

There wasn’t really anyone with the proper ‘authority’ to issue such a document, but considering they were just stealing the work done by a bunch of people in 1797, it was a lot easier. Nate rubbed at his eyes—a history textbook next to him, while five other people took turns talking to one another in the former governor’s office.

Five people. A representative from the guards—a representative from the new business sector—someone from the groups they’d led into the fight against Denny and one of the healers Denny had kept under his thumb. And some mid-level government officials since they ended, Denny had fallen out of grace after disagreeing with the slew of executive orders issued on behalf of the departed governor.

Was it a perfect gathering of individuals? No. But some things needed limited numbers, and the document they were working on would hopefully led to a better representation of the involved parties in the city.

But one thing was for sure, he didn’t think he’d be seeing this document finished in the next twenty-four hours.

Nate sighed and pushed the paperwork away from him, his hand cramped from writing with the pen for hours. This was the fifth draft of New Nashville’s constitution; until it was done, he’d see little rest.

“This is good so far.’ Mumbled the merchant—the man who ran the pancake bar. “Elected officials. We’ll have a congress, a court, and the executive. People will like it since it’s familiar. But what about dungeon rights? Are we going to say everyone is equal despite clear levels saying otherwise?”

“Equality is important. Regardless of level. Does a rich man have more rights than a poor one?” argued the former administrative official. Nate nodded with this—and felt confident again in his choice with this man. There’d been a reason he’d gotten into hot water with Denny.

“There needs to be more action for war-time power; we aren’t at peace, and we are far from it. There’s monsters outside the walls still, and we have to account for that.” argued the guard, a man with a thick mustache as he was staring at it.

“Congress can pass the laws and will be doing so fast, and the executive will deal with the threats.” continued the businessman, shaking his head. We’ll need elections to get everyone filled in and time to work out our official laws. But you’re right; trouble could arrive before then before we have a mayor.”

“Trouble has arrived before then. You’ve seen the mist. We all have. It’s getting worse by the day; it feels more real and tangible.”

Nate jostled himself out of his exhaustion, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in the chair and raised a hand to command the attention. And the attention he got. These people were very aware that the method they were taking here was a delicate thing; in a way, he and his group had walked in as conquerors and were among the most powerful, especially considering the town’s strongest were currently locked away in cells pending judgment.

The fact he’d come in and demanded they set up an election and write a constitution—Colt’s idea—had been a hard sell.

But this was the first bit of news that’d come his way since taking on this arduous task that had captured his attention.

“The mist is getting worse?” Nate asked.

“My men have been hearing things in the last couple of days. You can feel it, too; it’s getting thicker, heavier. Like something is making it, and the problem is escalating. The scouts are afraid to go out when the mist gets thick now. Says they hear things too.”

The mist had been present before. The strange reoccurring weather phenomenon… With preparations against Denny, he hadn’t paid much mind to it. There’d been too many practical concerns to worry about instead of the weather.

On one hand, this could be superstition. Set a guard on a point for too long, with as paranoid of orders as Denny was bound to give, and they might start seeing invisible threats. Especially since a few weeks ago, almost all of these guards had been normal people.

But there was something to his tone that hinted at more.

Nate folded his hands and stared at the man, setting his jaw. “I’ll reiterate what I said at the start of this meeting to all of you fine people. Me and my friends do not intend to take this town. But, if actions need to be taken to defend it while it’s still getting on its feet, we will use our strength to see our promise for its future carried through.”

There was a weight to his words that made the guard settle back and relax. The rest gave their thanks and returned to the document at hand. All the while, Nate made a note in his head.

Trouble, it seemed, was brewing.