Ch. 80 - Election Results (Start of Book 2)

BOOK 2.

Ch. 80 - Election Results

A dense line of citizens curled around every corner in Nam’Dal, each waiting their turn to witness the results. The news of the election had spread quickly throughout the city, with each faction picking their hopefuls and placing their bets. As with any city where money flowed, the election quickly devolved into a gambling pot – the livelihood of every betting bird reliant on the outcome.

Of the twenty court members, only four candidates had their names placed in the hat. Those four became the frontrunners, each with their associated fanbase. With his face plastered over every city grate, Rudolph was certainly the most advertised. Teddy scored a few fans himself, mostly through thinly veiled threats and promises of tax-free prosperity.

Even Dusk had accrued a rather confusing, yet devout, following. Momo would have wondered who put the cat’s name in the hat, but she had looked over Radu’s shoulder just in time to see him scribble it in, giggling to himself for several minutes afterwards.

The candidates sat on a high balcony overlooking the town square. From above, the crowds looked like ravenous ants, each trying to outdo the other to get a better look at the proceedings. Chants in favor of Rudolph came from a small, furry faction to the right. The aptly named Meows for Dusk group assembled to the left, and the greatest mass of all stood in the center – Momo’s supporters.

“Momo oh Momo, great savior of all,” they chanted musically. Momo stared down in bewilderment, turning bright red as they performed their rehearsed ballad. “Famed Destroyer of Towers, great Rider of Birds. Her name will be remembered, her legacy too, For Momo, the liberator, was brave and so true.”

The liberator? Momo squinted at the crowds. Her eyes widened in recognition – identifying many of the faces below. The hundreds of petty criminals that she had freed from the Banquet Hall were joined by the arm in song and dance, praising her name with religious zealotry.

Momo squirmed in her seat. That level of attention would have previously sent her into an embarrassment-induced coma. Not anymore. She still burned as red as a tomato, but she didn’t mind it much. As the thought dawned her, a piece of parchment flew into her lap.

Congratulations! Your [Self Assurance I] has upgraded to [Self Assurance II]. +3 CHA to the previous tier of the skill.

Momo smiled down at the paper. Progress is progress.

Valerica strolled out onto the terrace. She was carrying that green box that Lorvis had left – still perfectly wrapped. She laid it out on a table before the candidates, and then gripped the railing. She clapped her hands loudly to get the attention of the crowds, and the makeshift arena soon quieted. Her voice echoed with unnatural volume through the square.

“Greetings, new friends,” Valerica bowed, wearing her signature smile. “I know you have been kept waiting for many long hours, so I will make this speech short and sweet – just like the reign of Sera before me.”

Momo held in a laugh at the joke. It had been one in thousands that Valerica had delivered in the last few days. She had made sure that the Necropriest wouldn’t quickly forget just how short lived her incumbency had been.

“If we have not been acquainted before, let me introduce myself. I am Valerica, the High Necromage of Morgana’s Dawn, and one of the members of the Circle of the Lich – Morgana’s elite circle of Excalibur necromancers.”

The crowd’s silence went from obedient to eerie. While it was known that the new heir to the Nam’Dal throne was not of the Holy sort, the people had yet to completely understand just exactly who was in charge. Those two words in particular – Excalibur Necromancer – held quite the volume of baggage. The fear that took hold of the crowds was palpable.

“Ever since the so-called Dark Calamity, our people – the necromancer, the thief, the con artist, the Rat, the halfling – have become the shunned and oppressed boogeymen of this nation. That ugly tyrant Jarva insists we are the threat, and yet… who is it that jails us? Who is it that refuses to educate our children? Who is it that destroys the dreams of budding entrepreneurs?”

Momo was quite sure Valerica was talking about her ‘entrepreneurial’ business of selling bugs and bones to naive wizards, but luckily the crowd didn’t know that. In fact, they looked completely absorbed, holding onto every word. Momo sighed, relieved. She has an usual way of going about things, but you can’t say she’s not persuasive.

“Luckily for you, I have the solution. A new nation – a better, kinder nation. The Queendom of Morgana. It will be the Goddess’s mortal empire, of which I will be the figurehead. Your beloved city of Nam’Dal will serve as the capital to this new Queendom. How splendid does that sound?”

After several long seconds of uncertainty, a singular clap echoed through the crowd. Out of either genuine agreement or peer pressure, the applause quickly spread. Within a minute, the entire square was enveloped by cheers.

“Wonderful,” Valerica giggled, clearly pleased. “Now, onto the main event. Before you are your four candidates. Each of these candidates has received at least one vote from their fellow court members. One in particular received the majority. I will leave it to our Bauble Chancellor, Excalibur, to announce the winner.”

Momo blinked in disbelief as Valerica unearthed the bauble from her pocket, and then proudly displayed it to the crowds. From its perch on her open palms, the bauble cleared its throat. Just like Valerica’s voice, the bauble’s words carried unnaturally far, propelled by a magical quality that filled the entire square.

“Citizens,” the bauble greeted. The crowds seemed bewildered by the choice of speaker, but they were too curious to care. “I will now read out the vote count, in ascending order.”

The bauble took a long pause, as if recalling the list from memory.

Momo wondered where exactly a bauble stored memories, but then quickly remembered she was quite possibly several breaths away from becoming the leader of a nation capital.

“In fourth place, with 2 votes, is Rudolph the Rat Prince.”

A dismayed clap echoed from Rudolph’s followers. Momo could see Fromage’s furry face bow towards the street, obviously dispirited.

“In third place, with 3 votes, is Dusk… the cat.”

Momo’s jaw dropped. Three votes?! She looked down at the cat, who was busy purring softly in her lap. Momo shook her head in disbelief. She knew the feline had management potential, but she imagined it’d be hard to rule a city without being able to communicate anything other than ‘am hungry, want food’ and ‘am bored, want to kill something.’

“In second place is Teddy, The Thief of Many Faces, Guildmaster of the Thieves’ Guild.”

Momo froze, her blood running cold. Every single sound dulled to a soft ringing in her ear. The angry boos of the Thieves’ Guild, the early chants and cheers of her supporters. She felt faint, her entire body pulsating in expectation. If Teddy is in second place, then that means…

“In first place, the newly appointed ruler of Nam’Dal, is Momo the – err – Ripper?”

The overwhelming cheers tore her from her stasis, the black rim around her vision clearing. The roar of applause came like deafening blows on her eardrums. She stared forward blankly, completely consumed by the cacophony of sound.

“I… what?” she said aloud, finally.

The bauble turned to her. “Miss. Ripper, I believe you must now give a speech.”

Momo stared at him. When she wrote her name down on that paper, it had been nothing but a fleeting feeling. A misplaced emotion. Sure – she was more self assured then before, but she wasn’t a bloody politician. Valerica’s charisma count had to be somewhere in the hundreds, hers was just peaking above ten.

Every eye in the city stuck to her like glue. With a shaky breath, she rose, and stepped towards the podium. She trembled like a chihuahua as she gazed down at the waiting crowds, their smiling faces directed up at her like light beams. Their genuine excitement nearly knocked the wind out of her. They were here for her.

It wasn’t just Valerica anymore. An entire council – an entire city – believed in her.

“Hi,” she said, swallowing down years of adolescent fear. “I’m Momo.”

—

The speech hadn’t lasted much longer than the opening line. Sweat nearly engulfed her by the second syllable of her name, she said something along the lines of “thanks” or maybe “you’re welcome,” and then shuffled off-stage. The crowd gave a confused, but still enthusiastic, bout of applause.

—

Valerica found her in the Banquet Hall, absentmindedly painting the walls. The bucket of Nether still remained, and without the pressure of having to, Momo found that she quite enjoyed the thoughtless nature of stroking the brush up and down the wall.

“An unconventional first act of leadership,” Valerica remarked. “I have to say, you’re the first ruler I’ve met whose immediate urge after ascending the throne was to go do some menial labor.”

Momo turned towards her, startled. Seeing that it was only Valerica, she visibly relaxed.

“I had to get away for a bit,” Momo muttered. “I was getting nauseous hearing my name over and over.”

Valerica joined her on the floor. She remained silent for a couple of seconds, watching as Momo stroked a final touch on her current artwork. She had painted a rather convincing mural of Dusk.

“Just gorgeous,” Valerica commented. “I didn’t know you were so gifted with the paintbrush.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as gifted,” Momo said, bowing her head. She could identify at least ten different places where the silhouette was off – the ears were too perky, the bones were too gaunt, her snout looked a bit more like a rottweiler’s than anything feline.

Dusk seemed to share the critiques, meowing annoyedly as she pawed at the painting. Her claws dragged the Nether off easily, smudging off several whiskers.

“I think gifted is an understatement,” Valerica continued, in her usually over-complimentary way. “I didn’t just choose you for your meekness, small build, and otherwise unremarkable character. I chose you because of one moment in particular – do you know what that was?”

“Moment?” Momo squinted. “What do you mean, moment?”

Valerica laughed. “Right. I forget that the Nether Pool is a one-way window. I watched you for several months, viewing your life as – what is the Earthling word – a tv show. I watched you get up in the morning, brush your teeth with toxic paste, gargle that odd blue liquid, and then eat your ceremonial morning…”

Valerica trailed off.

“What are those circular purple things called?”

“Grapes?” Momo said, voice laced with horror. “You were spying on me?”

Momo’s face went bright red. If someone had told her back then that her every movement was being watched by an eccentric necromancer from an alternative universe, she would have fainted on the spot.

“Right – grapes!” Valerica grinned. “Oh how I craved to try them. The way your mouth curled to a smile everytime you consumed them. They seemed to be such a delicious delicacy.”

Momo frowned, mind reeling as she tried to remember every embarrassing thing she might have done that Valerica could have witnessed.

“Anyway, I have flown off-course,” Valerica laughed. “Yes, right – the moment I knew that you were the one. It was after one of your art instructions. A lecture on portraits,” Valerica waved to the cat on the wall, and gave her an odd smile. “The entire class had vacated the room, but you stayed, sitting under the dim light, completely spellbound by the drawings the professor left on the wall.”

The description sounded familiar. It was something Momo had done countless times during college. It had been hard for her to focus during class – what with the cacophony of sounds and faces. Once the room had cleared out, she’d often sit in front of the blackboards, following the professor’s instructions over and over again until her hands bled.

“I watched you for hours that night. I had never seen such concentration. Everytime I thought you were going to leave, you were only sharpening a pencil, or waving your hand around in the air to release the tension in your wrists. You’d fill up a hundred pages of a notebook, sketching the same exercises, over and over and over.”

Valerica’s eyes turned soft and blue as she recounted the memory.

“Determination beyond reason. Dedication beyond sanity,” she whispered, turning to her. “That is why I picked you, Momo.”