Liberté, Ordre Public
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He had the confidence of the people. The military would back him if he were to fail. Little could go wrong.
A second chance. The first time he had let the bureaucrats take too much power, the first time he had trusted them. He had thought then that it was the people at fault. Malk's tenure had proven him wrong. It was not the people who killed, who schemed, but the public officials who claimed to rule on their behalf, who had been taken from the rest and raised, taught, trained separately, who had become a caste of their own above the other. They fought among themselves for a twisted amusement; but when someone from outside came, they would unite to keep their power. They were intelligent people, but greedy, wanting to hold on.
He could not fault them for that. Was he not doing this because he wanted to hold on? He could not go back to the past, he was stuck here, in the same position as his ancestors who he hated with a vengeance, in this miserable place, until at last he would die. He was not so young anymore, and yet still he wanted to live. Living required him to remain in his post, to defend it with ruthlessness. Perhaps a year ago he would have been willing to die, but even but a few months in the politics of Istkalen had corrupted him. He had become, in part, someone else, desperate and paranoid and, as much as he hated it, power-hungry.
In part it was survival, but a part of him really did desire power and the ruthlessness it necessitated, power in part for his country but also for power's sake. There had always been something of that in him, but it had, it was, inexorably growing, and he felt as though he were losing control. A curse, a curse, the curse of his line, of the two Relems and Listrestesz and Kales and those hundreds who had come before them. He was not a superstitious person, or wasn't before, but that as with everything else was changing.
But now, perhaps, things would change in a better direction. He remembered September, the height and beginning of his power. Power had enraptured him, but he had not abused it. In but a month, Malk had torn asunder whatever democracy Istkalen had had under the occupation, imprisoning and destroying; he had not done that. What he had done had been for the good of the nation, to save it from the grip of a terrible force.
Or perhaps he was merely trying to comfort himself. At the end he had given in, had he not, to conserve his own rule?
Enough. The process had begun; it would have to be completed. The cabinet was gathered before him.
A fan whirred above the dimly lit room, yellowed lights flickering, ancient walls slowly crumbling.
He stood from his chair, running his hand over its smooth surface.
"I have gathered you here today to discuss a simple issue," he said firmly. He was sweating. "I will put this shortly. The transitional basic law of the state vests me with the legislative power. In the past I have delegated it to you. I no longer see this as tenable. Therefore, with the express approval of the workers' associations, I am to again assume it in its totality. You will retain an advisory role, but you will no longer vote on legislation. From this point forwards, that is to be my sole prerogative."
Minister Arkalis stood to interrupt him. "This is illegal, illegal! We aren't under any obligation to listen -"
Rikkalek sighed. "If you leave," he said, "the consequences will be severe. I cannot tell you what they are, but you are free to find that out for yourself. Perhaps this is illegal, perhaps it is not, but it is necessary, and thus it will be done. Those who oppose may resign."
Arkalis opened his mouth, closed it, and sat back down. There was silence in the room.
"You are all aristocrats," continued Rikkalek. "I don't deny that you are intelligent and perhaps the best qualified in the nation; but you are apart from the people. For the past month you have ruled without regard for them. Control is necessary; as flawed as I am in this respect, I will be the control. At the very least, I was and am closer to the people than you could ever be."
Arkalis spoke again. "Close to the people?" he spluttered angrily. "Close to the people? You are the son of emperors. You are the head of the imperial house. What are we? The children of peasants, of craftsmen! What a thing to say, 'close to the people!' What hypocrisy!"
"And yet,,*" said Rikkalek with more than a hint of malice, "you've lived the life of an emperor, and I a peasant."
Arkalis tried to speak, but was interrupted by Minister Demirkol. "
"As everyone might have already guessed," she said, "I prefer this arrangement. I have for a long time stood against the bureaucracy of this state, and thus in recent months found myself aligned with the Head of State and his aims. I see this merely as a continuation of this anti-bureaucratic action. However, I will say one simple thing. I do not deny that this is legal, but I would like this to be put to a vote here, an unofficial vote, for the purposes of...legitimacy, let's call it."
Rikkalek nodded. "Of course," he said, "of course..The usual mechanism, I assume."
"Of course," said Demirkol. "Then, I introduce a simple motion to this Council, on granting legislative powers to the Head of State. If the motion passes, the powers are granted; if it fails, they are not."
"This is illegal!" screamed Arkalis. "Illegal!"
Minister Sancar spoke for the first time. "It's an informal vote," he said quite softly, "the form doesn't matter." Several others in the chamber began to nod, slowly, in concurrence.
Arkalis visibly calmed down. "Regardless, it is a farce. I will not participate."
The vote went ahead regardless. 10 in favor, 6 against. Both Rikkalek and Arkalis had not voted.
"So," said Rikkalek, "you see. It has passed even here."
Perhaps they would kill him, now, he did not know. These were ruthless people, far more ruthless than even he. It would be the end for them; it was unilkely, he thought. He was more supported even here than he had thought, or perhaps it was a strategem.
To save the nation was his next task, to restore it. He looked back to September, and realized what he had to do.
-
Rikkalek was not there. They had said that he was the one who had called them there, and yet he was absent.
Minister Demirkol got up from her chair, pacing around the room. She had been half frightened, half sympathetic, with the man; now she was completely, utterly terrified. Why had they been brought here? Not for a meeting, not for an address; otherwise he would have been present. She had thought that her support for him would have gained his confidence. In different times she might have been swayed by Malk and the others of the older guard of the bureaucracy, trying to overthrow him; but she more than they knew that Rikkalek was different. He was not a Kerel, nor an Ikomar; he was more careful, more cautious but all the same more radical and this had given him the support of the people, or really the associations.
What was in a name? Kerel referred to a place, Ikomar to a social rank, something akin to the middle class, but Rikkalek referred to the position his ancestors had once occupied, a secular rendering of it after they had fallen, for the name of their house, their dynasty, had been lost to the ages. And indeed, Kerel's tenure had been tepid and conservative, unchanging as places were; Ikomar's one of a liberal paternalism, where he advocated for an equal society but in reality dictated to the rest from a high position; and Rikkalek's one of authority, of something approaching but not quite, or not yet, the imperial flair of his forefathers.
But names nor ancestry mattered; only the present. It would be simple for him to purge the bureaucracy as he wanted now, with the level of power and support that he had; had he brought them here to exile them, to kill them? There would be no issues afterwards; those who governed the associations were more than prepared to take over. She knew that that was what he wanted, what the associations wanted; it was what she had pretended to support to keep her power.
That was what they all had always done, but now ideology was beginning to override their machinations.
The director of the Agriculture Association opened a door and walked in. "Good evening," he said, his voice carefully modulated. '
"When may we expect to see the Head of State?" asked Minister Sancar, calmly. He as well as anyone except perhaps Arkalis, thought Demirkol, knew that anger got oneself nowhere in these situations. These were different times, no longer the Istkalen of the 80s and 90s but of the 2000s, a place where they had to remain quiet to keep their places, lest those below replaced them.
"He's not to arrive," said the director.
Was this some clever farce, or the truth, thought Demirkol. The implication was that Rikkalek was not involved in what was happening. Was he seeking to separate the two, to save Rikkalek in the case that it failed; or was he acting of his own accord?
"Why, then, were we called here?" she asked, careful not to convey anger nor worry, careful only to convey a slight unease, a slight curiosity, a general neutrality.
"Firstly, of course, I have to say one thing. Among yourselves," said the director, "you engage in your petty struggles. Killing people and the such. Everyone knows it, and I imagine you all think that we are ourselves engaging in your struggles; that we are but an extension of you. But we are not corrupt as you are; we still have something of a moral compass."
"We did not come here to listen to you moralize from on high," said Arkalis. "The whole bunch of you have an issue with hypocrisy. First it was Rikkalek, your idiotic goon, coming to us and lecturing us about being 'close to the people,' the great-grandson of the last emperor, and now it is the most corrupt people in the whole of our country seeking to lecture us about right and wrong! Oh, the humanity! First our legislative power, given to Rikkalek, now whatever other powers we have to you; what is next, our lives, you idiots?"
"This is baseless," said the director. "You also have a penchant for repeating your own ideas again and again at meeting after meeting, please say something original the next time you open your mouth. The message I have for you is simple. You are a lot of aristocrats, in our view, a cancer on the nation. You exist only because of tradition; there are so many others just as 'talented' as you who are denied entry into your exclusive class. To liquidate you all would be a shame, and a disaster from the nation; but to keep you in your current positions would be the same."
He paused, and Demirkol sighed. She would not speak, she could not speak - she had already committed her support for such a thing, what could she do without giving herself away - but she knew that others would speak.
Isteresskemar was the one who did. "So then what is to happen to us? You cannot transfer all power to you; there are a number of bureaucracies, as you term them, which cannot be easily integrated into the associations, as I imagine you seek to do. To lessen, to return to the people, is always good; but we must remain pragmatic."
"You say this because you are fearful," said the director. "It is your office, really, that you refer to. The head of the only ministry to deal with matters of the outside world. But, as I said, we are merciful. To suddenly strip you of your positions would appear...chaotic to the outside world. We perhaps better than you - for you between yourselves quarreled insanely and allowed this to consume the state - we understand the danger of this. You will not be sacked, that would cause disorder. But you will not retain your powers. You imply that your office does work that is impossible for us to do; but what work is this? I can think already of several associations which can take on your tasks."
"And we are to remain," said Sancar, "as advisors to the Head of State alone?"
"We do not deny your expertise, nor do we think it wise to leave you without work completely and still feed you. Of course you will remain in that role - but it will be limited, to prevent you from scheming as you have done. Ours will be a democratic state, not your aristocracy, your so-called 'meritocracy.'"
Demirkol listened and listened to the questions and responses, and realized that they were soon to be done away with entirely. First their legislative powers had been stripped, then their executive powers; and in all likelihood their advisory powers would be next. She could not protest lest she be discovered for what she really was; she, as the rest, she thought, could merely smile until she was finally thrown away, discarded, at the end. But whose machinations were they? Those of the associations, or those of Rikkalek's? Or were they one and the same? Difficult to say.
"Social democrats!" screamed Arkalis at the end of the meeting. "Fascists!"
No response. The director merely turned, quietly, and left the room. They were left alone, in silence and shock.
