just a little story im brewing up, an origin story for pendragon. hope you enjoy it, if i complete it it wont be as large a scale as the trilogy, but hopefully its still of a similiar quality.
The boy lay on the hard bed; not knowing when they would come for him was frustrating in the extreme. He wasn’t worried; far from it in fact, he knew perfectly well his safety was assured. He WAS the son of a distinguished general of the Phoenix Fighters, after all. They would give him a good dressing down, no more. It hadn’t even been that severe a crime, anyway.
He had only defaced a poster of President Kiachi, after all. What was wrong with that? The old bastard deserved to be mocked, he was leading the Archangel Alliance into disrepair with his ridiculous warmongering against the Chimerean Empire. It was causing the economy serious problems, too much money was being plunged into this ridiculous war. What about the infrastructure, the serious poverty that rotted Haven from the inside, and so many other words?
He sighed ruefully. Oh the rich, they lived in comfort, they were well fed and enjoyed power and privileges beyond what the poor could imagine. The injustice sickened him to the core. He sat up on the bed, upon hearing the sharp clicking of hobnailed boots on a concrete floor. Finally, they had come.
The many locks shunted back inside the thick metal door, and the door itself swung open, revealing a large man’s silhouette striding into the cell.
The boy raised an eyebrow, and spoke in a relaxed, almost bored voice.
‘Father, what on Haven took you so long?’ The large man sighed, a deep sound that echoed in the small cell.
‘Arexel, what the hell do you think you are doing? This is the third such stunt you’ve pulled this month. My reputation as an Admiral cannot indefinitely protect you from your own impertinence!’ The boy called Pendragon looked his father straight in the eye.
‘Father, why is it a crime to deface the President’s image?’ His father opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat. He scowled, and decided to continue scolding his wayward son.
‘Arexel, you are 17, soon you can be tried as an adult if you try this kind of rubbish again! Are you listening to me?!’
Arexel, who had been staring at the opposite wall, looked back at his father.
‘You see, a President is defined a democratically elected representative of the state, who has the best interests of the people in their policies. They periodically stand for re-election in a free and democratic vote every few years, and are replaced by the people if they aren’t happy with them.’ Arexel’s father rolled his eyes, and went to speak, but Arexel cut across him.
‘How long has Kiachi been President, father? How many years?’ His father scowled again, and almost spat out the answer as though it hurt his throat.
Arexel nodded slowly.
‘And how many re-elections has he held in that time? The fact is, we are not living under a President, we are living under a tyrant!’
His father’s patience, however, had run out. He roughly grabbed Arexel’s leather jacket by the scruff, and half-dragged him out of his cell. Once they were out, he slammed his son against the cold stone wall outside the cell, and shouted at him in a voice that carried down the corridor easily.
‘If you carry on being a disruption, I will have no hesitation in giving you over to the authorities! You will LEARN to be a good citizen, even if I have to force it out of you!’
Arexel was used to these outbursts from his father, but this one was particularly violent. Clearly, he had really struck a nerve this time.
‘No father would sell his son out to the government, just because he doesn’t want to conform to this dictatorship. I’ve had enough of this bullshit, Kristoff!’ His use of his father’s first name stunned him. Kristoff Pendragon watched as his son stalked off down the length of the corridor, and turned the corner.
That boy will never amount to anything, he thought irritably.