Now, what we have here, is Fiction. Show these ladies and gentlemen everything they need with Fiction. Fiction alone is needed in their lives. Write nothing else, edit out the rest. You can only control the minds of the reasonless herd with Fiction: anything else is irrelevant. These are the principles on which I control my people, and these are the same principles that will give me the world. I will rule, rule with fiction.

We stand in a colorful and smoke filled parlor with every form of comfort imaginable. The speaker, a man puffing the smoke that wore a red and black suit fashioned to look like a male peacock during mating season, smiled. His associates, other men with cigars wearing similar extravagant suits, nodded when he asked for agreement, laughed vehemently at every joke he made, and denied vigorously at any notion of the speaker being wrong.

His name is Christopher Jolly and he is the ruler of Happiness. If you were to ask one of the many residents of Happiness from their beautiful towers to the lower slums what kind of ruler Emperor Jolly was: They would tell you that he rules with kindness for his enemies, hope for the future, and love for his allies. They would say this in the well-rehearsed way someone that had to repeat such a thing each morning would say such a thing, which they did. For many generations the Jolly family has ruled this way, but none, not Census Jolly, not Cameron Jolly, or even the founder Christoph Jolly, has ruled the kingdom Happiness as thoroughly and with as much joy as Emperor Christopher Jolly.

A Page rushed into the parlor sweating and smiling, then bowed before Jolly.

“Report,” Jolly ordered.

The Page stood slightly, but stayed bowed. “Oh, you’re imperial joyfulness—

“Skip the pleasantries.”

“The envoys from Victoria have arrived.”

“What!” Jolly yelled. “They’re a day early.”

“A day and seven hours,” One associate wearing a rhinoceros hat said.

“A day, seven hours, and five minutes,” Another associate, wearing a flamingo button-up said.

“A day, seven hours, five minutes, and three seconds,” One more, that smoked seven pipes the shape of geckos, said.

“Early indeed,” Jolly agreed. “I shall see them in the morning.”

The Page nodded. “As you—

“Christopher Jolly!” A feminine voice called from the parlor’s entrance.

A young lady stood in the doorway, but in an instance the parlor found her completely unladylike. She dressed in dark clothes, and pants on for that matter. She was not deterred in any noticeable way by the smoke in the air like a decent girl should be. Her smile had a level of sincerity that perturbed the parlor’s guests. Most importantly she, and her blindfolded associate didn’t bow upon seeing Christopher Jolly.

“Lady V,” Jolly said. “I’m honored to make your acquaintance.”

“Though, you’d rather make her acquaintance in the morning,” The blindfolded man said. He was a scrawny, but fit fellow that dressed like a common workman than a person accompanying royalty.

“Now, now Blackpool,” Lady V waved away her associates misgivings. “I’m sure his royal positive-ness was just put off by the earliness of our arrival.”

“Blackpool?” The rhinoceros hat repeated. “The mercenary?”

“Chuck Blackpool the slayer of the West Witches?” Flamingo button-up asked.

The associate with seven gecko shaped pipes gulped.

“You bring a killer to my parlor?” Jolly snapped.

“Oh, Blackpool’s,” Lady V said with an innocent smile that didn’t match her intimidating stare. “He’s just my bodyguard.”

Blackpool took a slow stride into the room and waved his bandaged hands around the room as if he used them to see.

“It’s clean.”

“Are you insinuating my parlor could’ve been filthy,” Jolly scoffed. “That’s completely uncalled for.”

Jolly looked at his associates for their usual nods and agreements, but none responded, though the one in a rhinoceros hat looked like he was about to, but he just sneezed from the smoke.

“Blackpool is cautious because of the assassination rumors,” Lady V said as she pulled out her own pipe, a simple silver conduit, and began to puff.

“Assassins!” Jolly snapped. “What assassins?

“Hugo Wrinks, Gregor Roul, Sam Duel,” Blackpool listed.

Jolly frowned. “Who are these people?”

“Popular citizens of Happiness,” Lady V answered. “They’ve been dropping dead for seemingly no reason.”

“Popular?” Jolly asked. “I’d never heard of them. Have you?”

His associates managed to give slight nods at the direct question and the Page, not sure if he should leave the room, widened his indentured smile.

“They all had one connection,” Blackpool said. “They didn’t like you.”

Jolly lost all sense of self and furrowed his brow. None, no man, woman, or child in Happiness were allowed to not like Christopher Jolly.

Reading his expression Lady V smiled. “They were rebel leaders.”

“Rebels?”

“Not in the military gathering way,” Blackpool said. “In the I don’t like my leader and will tell my neighbor about it and that neighbor will snitch to the officials out of fear and then they get dragged out into the streets and killed in front of their families kind of way.”

“Guards,” Jolly yelled, but no one came.

“But you know what happens when you kill innocent men?” Lady V asked.

Jolly ran to the entrance of the parlor and found two of his guards laying dean and where they stood the street urchins he’d see at the bottom of his shining city.

“You make martyrs.” Blackpool answered.

“What do you do with martyrs?” Lady V asked.

“Well,” Blackpool drew a hidden blade from under his shirt and decapitated the men in the room wearing ridiculous clothes. “When you’re a neighboring country looking to expand, you can send an envoy with a hidden agenda to take over the country.”

“But we’d need an expert in espionage that understands the struggles of the down trodden, wouldn’t we?”

“I’m not one to brag about such things, my Lady.”

“You come into my home and murder my—

Jolly would not have finished his tirade, Blackpool would’ve decapitated him first, had the Page with a happy frown not hit him with a nearby chair and continued to beat him.

Lady V stood and wrapped an around her protector. “I think we can call this mission a success.”

“Is my debt paid?” Blackpool asked.

Lady V frowned. “Are you bored of me already Charles?”

“Never, my lady. I just—

“Mother will tell you when you’re debt to Victoria is over, that’s not my call.”

“I understand,” Blackpool frowned. “When do you think your mother will be satisfied.”

“The Queen of Ash will be satisfied when she rules the world,” The Page said over Jolly’s now dead body.

“Well, put young man,” Lady V said. “What is your name?”

“Page’s don’t get names, my Lady,” The lad said.

Lady V gave a solemn pout. “That’s sad.”

“I think you’ve more than earned one kid,” Blackpool said. “Killing an enemy of the crown and all.”

“Indeed!” Lady V agreed. “I’ll give you a name, would you like that?”

The boy hesitated.

“Answer quickly,” Blackpool urged.

“Yes,” He said.

Lady V hugged the boy, slightly covered in some of Jolly’s blood. Then held him out to get a good look at him. “Let’s see, I’ll name you… Dodger.”

“How artful,” Blackpool laughed.

“Don’t mock the boy Blackpool,” Lady V said. “He’ll be of great service to you.”

“Me?” Blackpool and Dodger said in unison, though for wholly different reasons.

“Yes,” Lady V nodded. “You need an apprentice before you get to old and the boy seems to have an, she looks at the body of the man that used to rule happiness, adept skill in killing.”

“How can I ever repay you?” Dodger asked.

“Don’t you remember,” Lady V smiled. “When my Mother rules the world.”

HEY GUYS THANKS FOR READING. I'M GOING TO TRY AND POST ONCE EVERY WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY. SOMETIMES I'LL POST POEMS SOMETIMES NOT. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE IN MY STORIES AND WHAT YOU DON'T.