The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix

by Ava D. Dohn

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  Mihai’s return from the Prisoner Exchange to Palace City was celebrated in grand, holiday fashion, the streets converging upon the spaceport packed with jubilant merrymakers. Countless thousands pressed ever forward, seeking to add their voices to the grand chorus of the happy throngs gathering to greet their victorious king, she having bravely forced Asotos’ hand into surrendering up the hostages to her. Everything was come to a standstill with everyone abandoning home, hearth and business to attend this glorious festival.

  (Author’s note: Other than the military with its established protocols, there was no official organized volunteer corps in those days, such as exists presently. At best, there was a loose amalgam of people who offered whatever times and energies they were willing to, to assist with maintaining Palace City’s infrastructure. More as you might see at a community barn-raising, there was an air that permeated the spirit of volunteerism of that day - whatever the mood, so would go the action. Thus, when Mihai returned to Palace City, most of the people currently serving in support of the city, its maintenance, transportation and so forth, took their leave to join with the partying public, leading to a temporary, massive gridlock throughout the region.

  Although being little more than a minor inconvenience that day, the potential danger at more crucial times was obvious. To prevent such breakdowns during times of emergency, it was common practice for the military to take over the civil operation of transportation, communication, and other essentials within the people’s governance. Under these circumstances, the military machine of the Children’s Empire took up the role of public servant, not that of a military dictatorship, such as was found within the League of Brothers.)

  The orderly procession begun by Mihai and her entourage after stepping from the DishonPele had quickly dissolved into a confused throng of merrymakers slowly progressing toward the grand review stand set up in front of the spaceport’s main terminal. The crowds crushed in from every side upon their new king, jubilant voices crying out praises while hands reached out to touch even a strand of Mihai’s hair or just her outer garment.

  The people’s new king attempted to accept the adoration as well as any royal person should, but it only deepened the guilt pangs of her troubled heart. Long had the accounts of the Prisoner Exchange been revealed to the people. No matter the facts or explanations offered by herself and others, Mihai was the grand architect behind the well-orchestrated events that played out, leading to the greatest public humiliation of Asotos since Gabrielle’s violent denunciation of him so many millennia ago. Every act of intrigue up through her field marshal’s departure had been part of Mihai’s detailed battle plan, and no matter her personal confessions - which she did attempt on several occasions that day - her ardent admirers would have none of it. She was the grand star, the people’s shining light.

  With every word of praise and every pat on the back declaring ‘Well done!’, Mihai sank further into despair until she broke down and wept, covering her face with her hands as tears flowed like rivers. The crowds reacted to this by louder and more fervent declarations of adoration. Soon the woman was being carried along by them toward the spaceport’s review stand, where there would be hours of obligatory speeches and orating, providing a much needed festival of the soul for a people long tired of this never ending Rebellion.

  Gradian’s Clock had chimed well past the midnight hour by the time Mihai escaped and made her way to the Palace. Arriving alone, she avoided any chanced contact by taking little-used passages that delivered her to the younglings’ quarters instead of the staterooms of the First Born. Spying the small bed in the corner of the darkened room, she flung herself across it and began to weep. So much the woman attempted to confess her rueful delinquencies of character and utter failure of duties, declaring that others had carried the day despite her heroic incompetence, but all to no avail. Through fitful sobs, the despondent child eventually drifted into a troubled sleep.

  With the morning sun, the city began to take its ease, the partiers having tired of the celebration, many casting their exhausted bodies down wherever the mood took them. Peace was returned to the world, the lonely footsteps of the changing of the morning watch being the few sounds disturbing the early quiet. In a small village some leagues to the east, the morning sun was rising upon a far different scene. There, in another room, a young heart was growing restless, tiring of the endless game of patience forced upon it.