The Phoenix Fallacy_Book III_Magnus

by Jon Sourbeer,

  Everything is less certain with Phoenix gone. All the Corporations have become hesitant, fearful of what happened to Phoenix. No wonder the Executors spend so much time on Magnus, they don’t know what else to do.

  The last chime sounded, it was ten o’clock. Norm stared at the clock. The Overlords were late. Overlords should never be late.

  There was a knock on the door, and Magnus answered, “Yes?” He quickly stuffed the pistol away.

  Not a confident ‘Enter’…Norm thought.

  A squat, rotund man ambled into the room, a confident smile upon his lips. “You requested my presence, Executor?” His voice was strangely harmonious.

  "Yes, Overlord Rassan. I wanted to discuss some ideas I had…”

  Norm stared at Magnus in surprise, his voice seemed almost… timid.

  His grin widened, showing sharp teeth, “Absolutely, Executor. I would be more than happy to assist.”

  Norm hated Rassan. The man sickened him. Rassan was a close ‘friend’ from the past few years, protecting Magnus and providing valuable information. After the first assassination attempt, Rassan had appeared, offering a helping hand. It was clear to Norm that only ambition drove the man to do anything. The only trait more noteworthy than his loyalty was his chivalrousness, according to Norm’s sources in the maid’s quarters.

  Magnus peered behind the rotund man, “Where are the others?”

  “The other Overlords requested that I stand in their place, Executor,” Rassan said.

  “And Executor Delacroix ordered all of you to be present,” Norm stated flatly.

  Rassan bowed his head, “My apologies.” His smiled at Norm, “Executor Delacroix requested that all of us be present. After some discussion, we felt we would better serve the Executor’s wishes by representing our shared loyalty with one united front, and allay any suspicions that might arise among the other Executors.”

  “Just because you have the other Overlords simpering at your command Rassan—," Norm said, stopping when Magnus raised a hand.

  Magnus nodded, “That seems wise. I am glad to have allies who consider such important matters.” Norm gaped at him.

  “I have been considering what you have been telling me recently about some of the attacks,” Magnus began. “I’m having a difficult time managing all of my resources while trying to deal with my…internal corporate issues," he said delicately.

  “I understand completely," Rassan said reassuringly. Norm noted the lack of a sir or title, but Magnus did not seem to notice the slight.

  “It seems to me," Magnus continued, "that for Titan to survive, drastic action must be taken. Titan has declined severely over the past few years, especially after the terrible plague that affected the population.”

  “Terrible…terrible…” Rassan echoed, his face became slightly downcast, although the smile did not lessen. Norm at least took to heart that Rassan was still not aware of the Nanytes; the Executors guarded that secret well, although they had distributed a “vaccine” for the plague to the upper classes and stopped the aging drug. Much of the older population had died off anyway, despite their efforts. The damage had been too severe, and Norm suspected that even those who received the Nanyte injections would take years to fully recover from the drug’s effects, if ever.

  “Stagnation has hit all the Corporations, and the Executors are too focused on managing the day to day woes of the corporation. We must be more…open-minded when exploring our strategies for the future.”

  Rassan’s puzzled look reflected Norm’s own internal questions. Where is he going with this? Norm caught a brief flash of a smile on Magnus’ face, but it disappeared quicker than it had come.

  “The stagnation is from a lack of fresh ideas and vision,” Magnus paused, letting his words have full effect, “Do you think that allowing the Overlords a presence on the Executor council could give the jolt we need?”

  “WHAT?” Norm exclaimed, the loud outburst startling Rassan, and he eyed Norm in shock.

  “Executor Delacroix…” Rassan hesitated, gathering his thoughts, the smile slowly developing on his lips, “I am honored that we could contribute in such a way. The Overlords would most certainly do whatever is necessary to ensure that none question Titan's dominance.”

  “Excellent,” Magnus said excitedly, “It’s decided then. You will accompany me to the next Executor’s council so that we may propose my plan.”

  “I look forward to it,” Rassan’s still reflecting his surprise. He turned to leave, but hesitated, and bowed his head slightly, “Until next time, Executor Delacroix,” Magnus waved him off and he exited the room swiftly.

  Norm waited until the door was shut fully before he began shouting, “Sit the Overlords on the Executor Council! Are you insane?” An annoyed expression flitted across Delacroix’s face, but it quickly returned to a pleasant smile, and he asked uncertainly, “You think the Executors will shoot my idea down?”

  “Yes!” Norm yelled, “They won’t just shoot it, they will shoot you! Even the Phoenix council would have never agreed to such a proposal, and you had power there!”

  “I’m not giving away power, Norm, merely adding a voice. The Corporations are afraid to do anything since the Phoenix incident.” He picked up a small data slate and shook it. “You know what this is? A message from Middleton. Do you know what she included in her report? Not intelligence about the Corporations, and certainly not any moves to action by them. And do you know why?” He asked rhetorically. Norm slumped his shoulders.

  “There aren’t any. None. Not one of the Corporations is planning an offensive. Ever since the Phoenix Declaration, not one Corporation has had a major assault or move. Not one has a planned expansion. Each is too afraid that the others will band together against them. Instead, she discusses how Cerberus’ garbage problem has accelerated because they had no place to store the recycled surplus. Instead, for the past three years, Cerberus has been dumping all of it straight into the bottom levels of its own city to save itself time and effort. How, between the amount of people they have cut loose and the garbage, a whole ecosystem of trash has formed at the base. A Corporation! Dumping its garbage on itself! The idea of it! No, Norm. We need fresh ideas and leadership, and a voice from the Overlords will help provide that.”

  “But Rassan!” Norm said, exasperatingly.

  “You don’t trust him?” Magnus asked.

  “About as far as I can throw him,” Norm grumbled, “And neither should you! He treats you like a lapdog.”

  Magnus laughed, “He is a rather large fellow. But don’t worry. He won’t act against us, Norm. I have everything under control.”

  Norm bit his lip, the last time he had heard that, things had not gone well.

  Chapter 21: Love Lost

  Norm sat alone in his private study.

  Along with the promotion to Overlord that Magnus had granted him, much to the chagrin of the Executors, Norm had been given a small set of apartments connected to Magnus’ estate. They were not as large as some of the more established Overlords, or even close to what he had possessed in Phoenix, but they were more than enough for him. His study was a small, simple affair of green walls with long, thin, curtained windows running along the ceiling. A single stiff, brown leather armchair with an ottoman sat next to a tall lamp with an ornate stained-glass shade. A wooden cabinet filled with Ambrosia, a sweet liquor that had spread from Hydra ages ago, stood next to a large bookcase filled with all matter of works and a corner letter-desk.

  He stared at the book in his lap: A Corporate Manifesto by Thanigessus.

  Rassan troubled him. No matter how confident Magnus was, Rassan was still a snake in the grass, and Magnus – what had happened to him? The Magnus of old would never have allowed the attacks to continue. The Titan Executors would have been begging for mercy instead of plotting. As much as Norm liked this newer Magnus, he would have been far more comfortable with the Magnus of old calling the shots.

  I never wanted this anyway… Norm grumbled to
himself, pouring some of the sweet, golden liquid. It burned his throat as he drank. I wasn’t cut out to be an Overlord…

  His eyes drifted to the corner desk. Setting his book upon the ottoman, he stood and walked to the cherry-wood desk, running his hand over the surface. His fingertips rested on a hand-written note underneath an old fountain pen. So simple, yet so much more secure. In a moment, he pulled the letter out and reread it once more, Natalie’s elegant cursive script flowing across the page:

  Norm,

  I’m writing to you because I’m extremely concerned about Magnus. He’s grown increasingly distant, and I fear for what will happen. I don’t understand – you have known him for so many years – why doesn’t he heed my advice? We both know that we are in grave danger and that Overlord Rassan is playing both sides, why does he refuse to see it? My own agents suggest there are rumblings of discontent among the others, as well, and I am torn as to what I should do – I am not supposed to be involved in the dealings of the Executors. I fear greatly what may be coming – perhaps you could speak with him?

  I know you will keep this message in the greatest confidence.

  With love,

  Natalie

  No doubt she had struggled mightily to write those words. She, too, could see the changes in Magnus. And she believed she could carry the weight of everyone else’s problems on her shoulders. It was certainly why she had written the letter, she wanted to carry a burden she didn’t think Magnus could bear anymore. And why she had written in secret; Magnus would only be angry if he found it. Or at least, the old Magnus would have been angry…

  She wanted to avoid frank conversation. But frank conversation was needed. Magnus was the Executor and he held the cards. Rassan could not be trusted, and with the Executors constantly plotting behind Magnus’ back, something had to be done… and quickly. Glancing at the letter once more, he smiled. Love, Natalie. It strengthened his resolve. Norm carefully tucked it into a drawer and left to find her.

  Chapter 22: Tremors of Revolution

  Overlord Rassan glanced over his shoulder, tapping his foot anxiously. He waited in one of the many alleys connected to Titan’s industrial sector. It was indistinct, and thus perfect. He had several that he had chosen over the years, whenever he had wanted to exchange information – with his own informants, or an enemy’s. A rolling wet, grey fog covered the area, steam pouring from the rusting pipes that ran along the length of the alley. It was sticky, hot, and extremely uncomfortable.

  “You requested me?”

  Rassan turned around to see an Infernus coming out of the fog, his movement surprisingly silent in the bulky armor.

  “I’m glad you decided to finally show up,” Rassan said irritably.

  The Infernus shook his head. His helmet had been modified so that it appeared like the face of a devil, with bright red fangs beneath the fierce red visor, and the gesture took on a sinister quality, “Some of us are not as free to move as others. What do you want?”

  Rassan smiled, both of them were cautious. If it weren’t for the visor, he wouldn’t know that he spoke with Commandant Burke. “Things are moving more quickly than we could have hoped. I spoke with our mutual friend today.”

  “Him?” Burke grunted in surprise.

  “Of course. Do you think I would deal with that woman?” Rassan asked disgustedly.

  Burke shrugged, “What news is there?”

  “How that man is in power, I’ll never know. The fool wants to put the Overlords on the Executor Council.”

  The Infernus gasped in surprise, “What? Will they have voting powers?”

  Rassan laughed, "You assume such a thing could happen. The Executors would never allow it.”

  “So what do you need me for?” Burke asked with eager expectation.

  “Security for the council meetings. It’s time for us to move,” Rassan said.

  “Now?”

  “Yes. The Executors are predictable when it comes to threats to their power. They will react, and poorly, when the fool makes his plans known. If we play our cards right, this will give us just the edge we need to justify a change in Titan's structure, so to speak.”

  Burke laughed, “And it will be about time, too.”

  “Indeed,” Rassan said. “Are you sure your troops will support our actions?”

  “My troops are loyal to Titan, not the Executors – at least as long as the distinction is made that Titan will still be taking very good care of them. We are all restless and want to have something better to do than sit by and watch Titan sink into oblivion."

  “Good. When the Executors are gone, a new power structure will be in place, and you can be assured that you will be well compensated.”

  “That’s not enough,” Burke growled.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Rassan feigned ignorance, “Surely you could not ask for more than what we have already agreed.”

  Burke's Infernus armor shook with his laughter, “You’ve offered me nothing that I couldn’t earn by killing you and handing your corpse to the Executors,” he raised his clawed arm to Rassan’s head. Rassan eyed the spiked fingers.

  “So I’m creating a new deal. One that will ensure my loyalty," Burke said simply.

  “I am listening,” Rassan said calmly.

  “You and your allies will make up the new Executor Council,” Burke said.

  “Yes, that would be the plan,” Rassan said sarcastically.

  Burke's smile was hidden by his visor, but his voice hinted it was there, “No need to be haughty. I don’t presume to underestimate your intellect – don’t underestimate mine. When you and your allies ascend to form the new Executor Council, I will join you as one of the new Executors.”

  Rassan looked shrewdly at the tall Infernus, and then smiled, "You will fit right in. But I want something in return."

  “You aren’t in a position to negotiate,” the Infernus said.

  “Oh, but I am, since you have made it clear that becoming an Executor is more valuable to you than killing me and getting a pat on the head from your masters.”

  Burke chuckled, lowering his hand, “And what do you want?”

  “You will back me for Executor Ascendant."

  Burke nodded, “Done. I had already assumed you would take it.”

  Rassan smiled, “As we both know, it helps to have an ace up your sleeve.”

  Their laughter was muted by the pressing fog.

  Norm listened carefully to the voices laughing again, to be sure he had heard everything correctly.

  “How did you get this?” he asked, his eyes shifting to the long blue gown Natalie wore. She certainly looked like the wife of an Executor.

  Natalie smiled, not turning her head from the recorder, “I’ve had three years to train and implement my own spy network, Norm. What have you been doing all this time?"

  She was joking with him, he knew. Norm also knew perfectly well who had gotten the recording, but he was more interested in the details.

  “Where is Aubrey, by the way?” Norm asked.

  “Doing what any loyal servant girl should be doing – her chores. She should join us shortly,” Natalie glanced at the clock and fiddled nervously with the locket that hung around her neck. It had been Magnus’ wedding gift. It was the jeweled Immutium Phoenix pin that he had kept from their escape – the sole surviving link to their former home. Magnus and Norm had worked on it together, and the newly minted Executor had even secretly commissioned tiny portraits of both him and Natalie for it. While the pair had posed for their larger works as part of Magnus’ ascension to the Titan Executor caste, “assistants” had worked furiously upon the miniature canvases.

  It had been the perfect complement to her pistol. Only the Executors had any idea of the true significance of the pin – most of the elites merely thought it a valuable token. But all had seen the reverence with which Natalie had handled it, and understood it carried great meaning to the two of them.

  Norm had never seen Natalie take it off, and she o
nly played with it when she was nervous. Distracted. “It’s too bad she couldn’t get better sound. Or video,” Norm commented. The shapes were vague, nearly indistinct. And only Natalie’s word had convinced him that the two figures were Burke and Rassan.

  Natalie nodded absentmindedly, “She tried, but she couldn’t get any closer without running the risk of being seen. Too foggy and too much ambient noise. Too foggy for definitive video is not foggy enough to hide from an Infernus’ heat vision.”

  Norm tapped his chin thoughtfully, “The Overlord of the Armoury and the Commandant Novus of the Infernus Corps. This does not bode well.”

  Natalie shook her head, but said nothing as the pair sat in silence, reflecting on the dire situation. The room suddenly felt very cold, despite the roaring fire that burned within a hewn stone fireplace just a few steps away. Frosted glass from the winter weather was visible between the heavy red curtains of the library. Great shelves of books, many untouched in centuries, filled the private study of the estate that Magnus and Natalie shared, giving Norm the feeling that he had stepped back into a bygone era. Norm loved the feeling of the room – like something to be treasured and remembered, but he knew that Magnus hated it. He yearned for the shapely curves and straight edges of the architecture of old Phoenix.

  There was a knock. Natalie shut off the recorder, "Enter."

  Two serving maids strode in, bearing trays with an assortment of dried fruits, nuts, meats, and vegetables, a carafe of cold water and a wooden box. Both were followed by a small, fat daedulus that seemed to be a stark contrast to the ancient décor of the room. The first maid was short, pale, and frail-looking. She was a plain woman, with loose brown hair. The second maid, who stood behind her, was absolutely stunning. Long curly blond locks fell in waves to her shoulders and her serving maid’s gown fell loosely across her body to hint at the shapely figure underneath. The two maids placed the silver trays on a nearby table, and both curtsied, quickly heading for the door. Norm struggled to not visibly follow the blond woman. Natalie paid no attention to either of them, lost in thought.