Blood-soaked Stars - Chapter 2 1/8/15

Chapter 2

         “Please… sit down Master Gullouch, after all… it’s your office.”  The man said with a flourish before seating himself in the ruddy foreman’s cardinal-red armchair, crossing his large, black boots on the accompanying oak desk.
         Escorted by two mammoth infantrymen, the normally large Gullouch stood uncomfortably facing his own workplace. He briefly considered running, but remembered the even larger sergeant standing at attention in front of his door. After a moment of open-mouthed confusion, the foreman’s pride bristled,
         “I have been his Majesty’s finest se-“ spouted the angry factory-operator, before having his rant cut short by the man in his chair.
         “You have been negligent. Did you know that just recently,-yesterday, in fact,-the King passed a new law?” asked the uniformed man, exuding an aura of confidence. “No? Ah, I suppose the mail services are slipping, never were very reliable…” continued the man, answering his own rhetorical question. “You see, this new law stipulates that all royally sponsored businesses must remain open… regardless of past observance of national holidays. We are, after all, at war. Aren’t we Master Gullouch?”
         “Yes,” Gullouch responded, his voice low and hoarse.
         “And in times of war, citizens are expected to do their duty. Are they not?”
         “Yes.”
         “Good, then why-“ began the darkly uniformed man, dropping his legs from the desk. “Has this good establishment closed?” he finished, leaning forward to rest his hands on the desk. The officer, quiet as a predator stalking his prey, waited for Gullouch’s answer in the crowded office, tilting his masked head slightly.
         Gullouch couldn’t think. The stifling heat of the burly infantry and the grotesque stare of the masked officer started to gnaw at his mind, causing more and more thoughts to dissipate. Finally, the oppressive atmosphere caused Gullouch to break.
         “Colonel… please… my workers, they’re gone! Even my floor supervisors abandoned the factory to celebrate in the square. There was nothing I cou-“ Gullouch began nervously, breaking out in a sweat.
         “Master Gullouch. Please… we are not here to assign blame, only to rectify the situation,” said the officer, resuming his jovial tone.          “Did you know that, until today, this particular factory had remained operating continuously for five years, three months, and seven days?”
         “Please I-“
         “Relax. Here, I want to show you something. Please, attend the window with me,” said the blackly outfitted officer. He politely slid out of the foreman’s chair, waited at the large, industrial glass window, and turned with outstretched arm for Gullouch who proceeded cautiously to his side.
         “you see Gullouch, without it’s gears a machine cannot run… as i’m sure you know. Do you know what happens when a machine malfunctions Gullouch?” asked the officer, placing his arm around the sweating foreman.
         “You lose men, money, and materials,” Gullouch answered carefully.
         “Correct,” said the officer, reaching his hand up to his mask. “You lose men,” he continued, undoing the locking clasps between his helmet and face mask. Gullouch dearly did not wish to see what was under that mask and began to struggle, but the officer was far, far too strong.
         “Do you know what happens then, to broken gears Gullouch?” Asked the officer, undoing his mask completely and throwing it on the table. Gullouch froze in horror.
         “They have to be-“ the officer said, grabbing Gullouch. “Replaced.” He growled, hurdling the doomed foreman through the glass.

***

         Epouve sat in the corner. While he passed the time quietly, butterflies gnawed at his stomach. This morning his father would clear everything up and Epouve could stay home. Right? Well, he hoped so anyways, the last thing Epouve wanted was to join the army. He was very afraid. Afraid of the army. Of the officer. Of never seeing his family again.
         Around the house, his father and grandfather were everywhere. preparing their finest dress clothes, meticulously combing; oiling, and touching their hair, spraying perfume, and collecting some boxes that Epouve had only ever seen a few times. In fact, they almost looked wealthy. At first, Epouve thought it was all very ridiculous, but when he asked about it his father explained to him that it was all about appearing important.
         “Only a rich family can dodge the recruiters, son.” Epouve’s father had said,
         “But don’t worry, we’ll see you home.”
         Epouve believed him of course, but he was still afraid. He was about to go upstairs when his grandfather caught him,
         “Ah ah, young man. Where are you going? If you want to stay with us you’re going to have to get dressed up too.”  he told epouve with a raise of one eyebrow.
         Epouve could only angrily stare at him. In no time, he was fitted into a ridiculous turquoise coat, cut at the waist in the front, and tight-fitting pants matched with dark boots of a seemingly high quality. His hair combed back, he felt as if his whole being was squeezed into an artificial shell. It even seemed like his own skin was transformed into a disguise which he could only peer out of. Most of all, Epouve hated his tie. The tight, straight kind that only angry noblemen wear when they formally meet.
         “Alright. This is it. Come on now, it’s just a short walk.” dragging Epouve with him. The grandfather followed, looking by far the most regal of them in his old business wear.
         The wind rustled uneasily as the three oddly-disguised gentlemen walked down the empty street. Their loud steps startlingly real, they made their way quickly to the corner of the densely populated cul-de-sac. Most everyone had either already left for work or weren’t even awake yet, leaving the neighborhood dead.
         Around the bend, they found a mint-condition coach waiting for them, common enough in the more scenic parts of the city, but sadly out of place here. Epouve began to wonder why they were taking a cab when his father explained,
         “Listen, there’s been a change of plans. We’re going to need to go the… nicer part of town, alright? I know things aren’t exactly unfolding how I told you they would, but just trust me.”
         The driver turned out to be one of their next-door neighbors, ready and willing to do a favor for Epouve’s father apparently. Climbing in, the trio found the cabin quite comfortable, lined with plush cushions and sealed by actual glass windows. Soon, Epouve’s grandfather whispered to his father,
         “Greare. I-“ He began before cutting himself off with a smile and look at Epouve before resuming more quietly. Epouve couldn’t make out most of what he said, but he could see his father nodding his ascent a few times and made out the words ‘Oteoh Square’. The large, public space lay near the center of the city in the bourgeoisie section, where many skilled artisans, as well as writers, artists, and famed Oblovhezers dwelt. After a moment of discussion, Greare knocked on a wood slot that opened upwards and gave the driver a few directions before turning back to Epouve.
         “Alright. We’re on our way now. Epouve, listen: for this to work you are going to have to follow our lead.” Greare began, before momentarily turning to share a glance with the grandfather. Turning back to Epouve,
         “Do not speak, unless spoken to. Do not slouch, but do not appear overly interested in this matter either. And finally, for the gods’ sakes, do not interact with anyone you might know.” His father mandated sternly. Epouve, who had never heard his father like this before, could only nod his head in agreement. Looking in his father and grandfather’s eyes, he could see they were both worried about going through with this. In turn, that worried Epouve further. He looked away, out the window which had been poorly cleaned, several streaks of dust ringing the edges.
         It wasn’t long before the worn, wooden labyrinth gave way to an orderly, clean street lined with flourishing stores and businesses. A plethora of people and colors assaulted Epouve’s vision, the likes of which he had never seen before. Eventually, after passing magnificent grand boulevards and towering monuments of stone and water, the coach became stuck in the long taxi lines which often illegally jockeyed for position this far back. A city guardsman, bristling with golden tassel, reluctantly sauntered over and whistled them off, scattering the flustered taxi drivers like frightened seagulls.
         They could hear their coach driver drive the horses on in the fluid traffic. Finally, they ended up in a huge public space, Oteoh Square, Epouve presumed.  As the coach came about, Epouve could see a large crowd of people standing around a few, lonely desks. Out of the crowded huge lines snaked across the square.
         “Well, we’re here. Is everyone ready?” Greare asked. Epouve and his grandfather nodded. In a flurry of excitment, the family readied themselves. Fixing their ties, buttoning their jackets, and endlessly straightening, they made their way slowly onto the brick pavement, sore from nerves and a bumpy ride. Epouve’s grandfather sighed.
         “Show time,” he said to no one in particular. The driver, looking sadly on, tipped his hat to Greare and with a crack of the reins flew away from the scene as quickly as he could. Epouve, standing aimlessly could feel his father’s hand on his should. Looking up, he saw his father’s loving face, rough and thin, but full of life and hope.
         “We’re ready,” Epouve said.
         “yes we are son.”
         The family put on an air of pomp and circumstance that rivaled the king’s court itself. Back’s straight, formalwear flowing, and hair tidy the trio approached the wriggling mass of people. The crowd, formed of begging family members and angry kin, waved money and gifts around or brandished fists, shouting and screaming at the tough recruiters of let their loved ones go.