Walking the Razor
A short story about a reluctant rise to power.
This isn’t the way I’d wanted it to happen. I’d never had designs on being a leader, but I sure as shit wasn’t about to be no follower. I guess in the grand scheme of things, this was just the natural order, the way it had always meant to happen. Don’t mean I wanted it this way though. You see, to survive as long as I have in the politics of this hellscape, you have to have a certain amount of savvy. You have to know who to know, who to show, and who to blow. You have to know when to get on your knees, and when to stand proud. Its a balancing act on a razor wire that’s constantly cutting your feet to the bone. That is, unless you’ve invested in a thick pair of boots.
For me that pair of leathers was a dear, close, useful friend of mine, time. I knew I had it, knew I had an eternity of it. Hell, several eternities if we're getting technical here. While the others all ran across that wire, putting the pressure on bleeding trotters, I ambled along at my leisure. When they all fell, clutching at severed stumps, I walked right past with a nod and a smile. Oh yeah, that’s another lesson, be gracious in victory. There’s nothing more dangerous than a daemon who thinks you've slighted them, not offered them their due. We're all ready to fail, but we're prideful creatures. Even though I may hate their guts, its easier just to keep them on my side for when the shit hits the stove.
Which brings me to my current predicament once more. Connected to the end of this wire is the throne itself, where our high prince once sat. For time untold that seat has been the rest to countless asses, usually for no more than a few centuries. But there are those rare times that a prince is strong enough, or connected enough, to hold onto that seat for much, much longer. Those are the ones that live on in our memories, the ones that actually managed to get shit done, for one end or the other.
Now I had crept my way up to that seat, as close as I dared. Though like I said before, I had no designs to place my ass upon that chair. I just wanted to be close enough that I didn't have to walk that wire any more. Even though my feet were amply protected, its still a long and tiring row to hoe. I was tired. I'm one of the oldest, a primer, one of a couple hundred or so. Time for me is measured not in years or even centuries, but in eons. Countless civilizations, peoples, hell even worlds have risen and crumbled in my time. Now thats a long while to be walking that wire.
The old prince, well, lets just say he'd made himself many enemies in his run across the razor. He was a young one, headstrong, bullish, and devilishly powerful with an animal cunning that no one could deny. He'd managed to do quite well for himself in the court before ascending the throne, ingratiating himself with the prince of the time. That was, before burying an ax in the poor devils back. He then seized the throne, claiming sovereignty by conquest. Or, more simply, you keep what you kill. Now this didn't sit well with the rest of the court. They'd had their own designs upon that chair. Whether for themselves or their allies will never be known, but the short of it is, plans for his forced abdication began almost immediately. And those plans just as quickly started to run into each other, threatening the very balance of the court for all those involved. And, you guessed it, yours truly would have been one of those jostled about in the aftermath.
I did what I had to do. I used my connections and my pull to stabilize the court, got the combative factions to see eye to well, not all of them had eyes but you understand my meaning. I got them to that table, then stepped back into the shadows to watch and rest my feet. Little did I know once they had forced out the young pup, they'd nominate the old Crow to perch upon the throne.
So here I sit, the prince of the denizens of the hellscape. Each one simultaneously licking my boots, and polishing their blades. Now that I'm in the position of decision, every move I make will be studied and picked apart for weakness or opportunity. But this old Crow still has a few tricks up his sleeve alongside his old friend. With any luck, age and cunning will outweigh youth and exuberance. I'll have to get used to not having a moment to rest, but at least now, I'll get to stop walking and put my feet up.
©Nicholas B Girard 2020
